Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, obviously.
The staircase is crumbling. Beneath her heels are the stones, blood, and rubble. She doesn't want to think about all the ashes that lay spread on the floor, her friends, her students, and her home are all pieces of gray dust. Everything is ashes.
Wind is howling through the castle for parts of its walls have been destroyed tonight. Parts of her life have been destroyed tonight. They'll be rebuilt stone by stone but the fact that miscreants can come in and crush her home is terrifying. The fact that he has so much power as to come into a sanctuary, her sanctuary, and wreck it without remorse is burning. It scorches her skin when she remembers his skeletal fingers, the cold maddening look in his eyes as he wielding green light towards her loved ones.
Tomorrow she will not be surprised if Fawkes burns for the last time. After all who could survive when their familiar is gone? She must prepare his arrangements while the students are sleeping. White stone will be his resting place, a place where he may finally find the peace he has been fighting for all his life. White like his beard, white like his skin in death, white like her face as she tries to organize something she never wanted to.
Arriving down at the stars she looks upon their home. Impulsively she takes out her wand and turns to exit. The night is cloudy; although his mark has been erased she can still feel its imprint in the sky, his mark will always haunt her. The path to the gate reeks with the smell of spent spells and sweat. Reaching the gate she begins to cast protective charms. She can remember her first time learning about charms but that was so long ago. Now is not the time to dwell, she has no time for useless memories when there is work to be done. Swishing her wand she completes the ritual and feeling the gates quietly pulse around her she turns.
Dizzy with the amount of magic she's used to protect Hogwarts she nearly misses the figure standing a little ways from her. Thinking it is a student she straightens her shoulders and walks briskly before realizing it's not a student, it's not a person. The white, ghostly figure of Albus Dumbledore stands before her. For a moment she can picture him as he has always appeared to her strong, wise, and caring. For a moment time is suspended and she can almost feel her soul being ripped from her body as it calls out to him. Her heart is beating frantically in her chest as her hand reaches for him. She can almost see his tears as he fades away. Desperately, she casts spell after spell to make him stay, but he is gone. She fears her heart and soul have gone with him.