‘For November, it was surprisingly mild. That was what Augustus had just thought as he crossed the park on his long legs. His wizard's robe, embroidered with gold thread and proudly emblazoned with the Godric crest, brushed against the thankfully dry ground. Augustus had fallen asleep in the pale but unseasonably warm sunshine, and now he was late. Late for his History of Magic class, where he could - normally - continue his nap. Professor Binns, if he held it against him, would at least have the decency not to say anything. When he finally arrived at the huge gates of the Castle, he had this feeling. An impression he can't even describe, because it's irrational and he doesn't believe in irrational things.
