It absently licked the slab of meat the large one had left out for it. The familiar weight of the harness that joined it to the carriage weighed lightly on its broad, if somewhat skeletal back. As more slobber than blood came off, it abandoned the treat and sedately followed the herd up the path. It deftly wove the carriage around potholes and gently crossed the scars that littered the otherwise well-packed dirt path, enjoying the new challenge.
Patiently it waited as the small ones left the large carriage and walked over. Rather than entering, though, this year there were stares. Fingers pointed. Whispers.
"What are they?" Barely concealed panic.
"I never saw those before." Concern. Curiosity.
"Were they always there?" Worry. Confusion.
"Thestrals." Reverence. A tremor of sorrow.
Last year, only a few ventured over to look, and rarer again to touch. This time, though, there were many. Whispers snaked up and down the road. A river of fingers flowed. The braver came closer, word of reverence, loss or fear on their lips.
"Thestrals. Who was it for you?"
It lipped the hand that was held out, and submitted to a rather pleasant itch behind its ears.
Stories were shared in an outpouring of dulled grief.
A sibling. The ties of blood spilled on the ground as a curse was taken. Falling and never getting back up.
A friend. Too few years of laughter and unity cut short by falling rubble.
A hated foe, whose loss still cut deep as unity overrode schoolyard rivalries.
Ones who never found out the name of those they saw fall. Ones who saw the life leave the wounded they spilled sweat and tears and magic to try to save. Ones who saw men in masks playing God meet their maker. Ones who saw the finale, as the Boy Who Lived himself stood over the body of the Dark Lord.
Through it all, it stood patiently as through pats, rubs, scratches - creature contact, comfort and a common sharing of old wounds which closed a little more - until they sat in the carriages and it walked them gently passed the potholes and scars on the road to the doors of the castle and the inviting warmth of light and life which beckoned in the new school year.