Not Mine.
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It was just past four in the morning, the night sky slowly brightening on the eastern horizon. The beauty of the coming sunrise couldn't disguise the horror that had befallen the ancient fortress that had once been Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The wall had crumbled; the stone debris lay scattered across the once-green lawn. The Forbidden Forest had been decimated, it's trees stripped bare, fallen and ashen. The walls of the castle were scorched black, the smoking remains of the fire that had ravaged the corridors sending up the acrid smell of carbon and sulfur. All around silence reigned.
At the edge of the ruined grounds, two figures could be seen through the fog and falling ash. Their clothes were torn, their faces smudged and scratched. The shorter of the two, a dark haired young man turned to his companion.
"Neville," he said, "I think we can safely agree that you should rethink that career in potions."
