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The castle was a scene of destruction. How had a sight that was normally so glorious and majestic come crumbling down?
The survivors of the battle crowded into the Great Hall, looking around skittishly. It hadn't fully hit them that the battle was over. The survivors were still on alert for curses to fly through the air or for another part of the castle to explode, hit by a stray spell.
Some of the younger students gathered together, sobbing quietly. They couldn't forget the sight of the dead, the sight of bodies laid out across the Great Hall. A few of the older students wandered around the castle, picking up pieces rubble before discarding them. They wanted to clean, to start the recovery of their school, but the destruction was so great that they didn't know where to start.
There were a few words here and there but for the most part the large room was quiet. It wasn't silent—the muffled sobs prevented true silence—but it was quiet enough to give the room a solemn and eerie atmosphere.
A lone phoenix perched in the rafters, crooning softly. His intelligent eyes scanned the room, looking for someone that needed his help. After a moment, he took off into the air, his destination a seventh year with a badly gashed thigh. She would bleed out eventually if the wound wasn't treated soon.
A plump, gray-haired witch looked around. This wasn't right. The battle was won and the war was mostly over. It should be a time of celebration but instead it was a time of sorrow. She knew the dead had to be mourned but the students needed to be distracted, especially the younger ones. They didn't need to see the dead counted and named. They would learn the death toll soon enough.
The Herbology professor gathered the students around her. She gathered her Hufflepuffs and the youngest of the students first, drawing them away from the Great Hall and into an area less damaged. The other professors noticed her efforts and ushered their own students toward the classroom where the Hufflepuffs had gathered. Soon, the majority of the Hogwarts students had crowded into the classroom, glancing around in confusion. The first years through the fourth years were all present, as well as half of the fifth years. A few of the sixth years and seventh years lingered outside the hallway, wondering what was about to happen.
"We say at the beginning of each year that Hogwarts was founded by four great wizards and witches. Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. Not much is known about their time before Hogwarts but we do know that all four of them were dedicated to this school. They believed that students were the future, the pathway to something better."
Professor Sprout took a deep breath.
"I don't know about you, but I don't think this is better. I don't think that our four founders would have wanted their school to become a battleground, a place of destruction. They wouldn't have wanted their place of creation to be tainted in such a way. We can't do anything about what happened this past night but we can pave the future. We can stop things like this from happening again.
"But to stop this from happening again, we need to understand our history. Every year I hear students reference the great feud between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin and how Slytherin left the school in a fit of rage, but they never talk about what it took to start our school. They never mention the sheer determination of our four founders or the trials they encountered. They never talk about how the friendship between the four started.
"Before we make any judgments about the people in other houses and reignite the rivalries, we must remember that there were never supposed to be any feuds. Hogwarts was supposed to be a place of community and friendship between people with similar talents."
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