It wasn't too difficult to start with just a few of the older children who needed patching. It was like they were being kind to the children, sparing them for us. Then it all changed.
Fifth years. Fourth and Third years. Second. Even first.
They all came to me. All of them crying in pain. All wanting to fight as soon as they could. I had no way of stopping them, I could hardly keep them safe.
Then the battle paused and I treated so many, some hanging on to life, desperate for help. When they got the help that they needed they would be returning to fight. Some called them stupid but it wasn't about bravery and being honourable. It was about protecting people.
I felt ashamed. Everyone over the age of seventeen, and so many that were younger, was fighting. I wasn't. I was helping, of course but all I was doing was patching people up. Allowing to walk back into battle, to their possible deaths.
A sea of body had been laid out neatly. Catching sight of a few faces, I began to choke back sobs.
So many had died. So much pain and so much destriuction.
It looked like Hogwarts had fallen.