A/N: A bit depressing perhaps, but still. Sorry for the time between updates. Hope everyone likes this, please review.
It was funny how the smallest things changed when a war began.
The littlest noises became suddenly very frightening.
The tiniest, most obscure details were suddenly crucial to peace, perhaps to survival. Everything was scrutinized five times over. Life was very suddenly all about the bits and pieces instead of the big picture.
Paranoia set in all across England, new locks were set on doors, windows were barred. Magical wards went up. To someone who was looking for it, the haze of magic was so thick in the air it distorted what should have been a typical hill, or a suburban house. The air wavered and snapped, thick with magic and tension.
People took extra precautions, listening for the first time in years to the constant advice of Mad-Eye Moody. He stumped around grouchily muttering, "Vigilance, constant vigilance!" and the wizarding populace listened.
They bought charms and antiquities meant to keep them safe from all manner of Dark creatures and wizards, from everyday household pests to Inferi and Deatheaters. They wore garlic vigilantly around their necks and kept their wands with them at all times.
They took classes from Aurors on basic defense, and more advanced protective magic. They reviewed Shield Charms and Stunning Spells that they had never thought they'd have an occasion to use.
They tiptoed around their respective houses, villages, and cities, shooting wary glances at passerby, reporting every other "shifty" looking personage to the Ministry.
For its part the Ministry was just as worried as the general public, and it had almost no new employees any more. Being a member of the Ministry was akin to being a target, and no one wanted to be a target. Aurors were few and far between, due to retiring, or mysterious disappearances. Mad-Eye himself was back to grouching around the Auror office, yelling out orders in his gruff voice and chastising those Aurors who remained for leaving their wands in their back pockets.
But the miserable irony, Ginny thought as she looked out over one more ruined village, was that none of it was doing any good.
They could prepare all they wanted, because in the end the only thing that would really make for change was the outright defeat of Voldemort. Not wards or charms, not locks or bars, nor self defense classes, not even Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley.
None of it was doing any good.