Time is a fragile thing (слэш)

Harry’s eyes fluttered open. He was lying on soft grass, the scent of fresh earth filling his senses. His fingers dug into the dirt, grounding him as his pulse raced. Where was he?
Sitting up, he blinked in confusion. Hogwarts loomed ahead, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon. Its towers stretched toward the sky, unchanged, familiar.
But something was… off.