I was very young when I first lost that childish glee, the innocence that all young ones possess.
For me it was a dark war. Brother against brother.
I remember the blood staining the stones around me.
Of the sound of spellfire clashing.
Feeling stones shattering around me.
And I remember the darkness, the silence that comes after.
The halls were empty, but for those injured, screaming, and the quiet murmuring of survivors as they tried to save who they could.
That was a long time ago now.
The blood long since cleaned.
But I have not forgotten.
Now I fear it is too happen again.
That the children I see everyday will be lost as I was.
That their yells of laughter and childish amusement will fade from the halls. Leaving only the sombre atmosphere that pervaded the very air when I was young.
When the children are quiet, and sit huddled in small groups, sharing their fears and worries. When the adults jump at every sound and speak in low tense voices.
I don't like it when it is quiet.
And all I can do is hope.
Hope that my halls will not be stained with blood again.
That my children will be safe.
What else can I do?
Just occasionally I wish I was flesh and blood, that I could speak my fears, my reservations. But it does not do to dwell on dreams.
And so I must wait.
As I have for so many years.
A stronghold against the cruelties of the world.
I must wait and hope that the evil stays beyond my walls.
But I fear this will not be, not this time, for I can already feel the darkness pushing at my wards, testing them.
I push back, magic pooling from the reservoir of power beneath my foundations.
I will not give up my children without a fight.
And for anybody who didn't guess it, the speaker is Hogwarts itself.
