The frigid winds of winter encompassed the castle, filling the darkened halls with its eerie howls.
Howls that would send shivers down the spine of one who did not endure the horrors of the second wizarding world.
The moaning breezes sounded more like the soothing purrs of a sleeping cat to the young transfiguration professor.
The sounds instilled a calming feeling in her nerves each night as she walked through the blackened corridors.
The second wizarding war left many deep scars in its wake, taking everything that people held dear to their heart away,
and the number of deaths that piled upon each other even after the death of Voldemort were quite vast.
The remaining death eaters that were able to escape had kept up their mad rampage in vain attempts to claim the title of the next great dark lord.
Those days that followed the demise of Tom Riddle were the worst to behold. So many innocent lives were sacrificed in pursuit of more than one crazed delusional maniac.
It took months to stop them, but eventually it all came to an end. Many of them ended up going into hiding, fearing Azkaban more than wanting the glory that accompanies fear and fame.
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