Title: Lost and Found
By: Twelvish
Disclaimer: No dearies. I do not own the Harry Potter people. Which sucks. J.K. Rowling does. My peasant stature does not compare with her elegant royalty.
A/N This is my first posted fic so go easy on me. Flamers are... not... welcome. Constructive criticism is much better, thank you very much.
Fifty years after Lord Voldemort won the battle between Light and Dark, he was defeated by none other than a muggle. Shotguns will kill even the most immortal of the wizards. Of course, the muggle thought he was killing an albino deer-snake (it's rare so don't ask), so it was purely an accident that the wizard-snake-thing died at all.
Unfortunately, by the time the Dark Lord was killed, there was nothing left of the Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts, and, in all reality, most of the light side of the Britain Wizarding Community. That included none other than Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter himself. They were all laid to rest in a beautiful secret ceremony in Hogwarts. The only thing marking the final resting place was a single bronze plaque.
Hogwarts eventually fell into disrepair. The ghosts went into a deep slumber deep in the lost chambers and rooms of the school. It became just one of the other castles in Europe, nobody really knowing or caring about the history of the structure. That could be because nobody knew about it in the first place. If they did, they weren't telling. Or, it could be that some magic still existed in the land around the dilapidated building, thus making it a less-than-worthwhile castle to look at. Maybe nobody would have known, if it wasn't for a man in need of a place to sleep.
Michael Laudmund was hiking along an old path when the first rumble of thunder sounded.
'God curse this timing,' he thought. 'I'm not even close to my next shelter. Well, might as well keep on going. Maybe I'll find something to rest in.'
And so he did. He walked and walked, even after he was drenched to the bone and dead tired. Eventually, he made it to a clearing. Startled, he looked up.
'How come I didn't see that castle from the forest? It's on a cliff for God's sake!' Michael decided that it was because he was so tired that he didn't realize the castle was there.
'It's a roof, so it'll do.' He pushed open the grand doors at the entrance, and promptly collapsed on the cold, unforgiving floor.
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Whispers penetrated the normally silent hall.
Who is that?
Not a wizard, surely.
Muggle?!
...Stranger...
... Let him stay...
Let him sleep.
That seemed to be the final word. The whispers faded into the wind still slithering through the ancient building.
A pair of eyes, though, still watched out for the man currently asleep on the floor. The eyes watched... and waited.
Quite short, I know, but I'm working on it. If anyone reads this at all, please review. That little button down in the corner there is quite a nice button.
I'd press it... if I were you. (insert dramatic backround music)