Hogwarts was a scene of destruction. Nothing more, nothing less. Broken statues, ripped portraits and rubble lay on the floor, making it nearly impossible for it to see the floor. Walls lay, once strong and proud, and ceilings struggle to hold the weight on top of them. This Hogwarts was quiet, no children ran between classes, talking and laughing with other children. There were no teachers lecturing in the empty classroom or scolding children for silly little jinx's and secretly passed notes. The bodies had been cleared weeks earlier, memorial services for the dead occurred almost daily. Many families had been torn apart by Voldemort's ruthless last campaign. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and friends had all been touched in some way by the war. People carried terrible memories in their mind of that terrible day, the day when many people had first seen the Thestrals that run wild in the forbidden forest. People still could hear the screams of people, telling them to run and the sick laugh of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They said that during the first war that Hogwarts was safe, a refuge from the war around them. But this time, the same statement could not be said. Hogwarts, one of the safest places in wizarding Britain, had been the scene of mass destruction and heartache. Many people say that Hogwarts is beyond repair, the once school in shambles, and that they should start anew somewhere else. But many contradict this statement, and raise their wand for Hogwarts.