Chapter Text
North Wing, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
1:46 a.m.
A personal lament dated 4.12.20
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The ancient castle trembled in frustrated agony, desperate to scream, to wail, to cradle a son.
It stood, impotent
as a boy it had loved
bled his secrets out onto the marble floors,
secrets that that had been meant to heal the world.
This boy had called death’s bluff once before-- and won!
He won with an ace up his sleeve that shined like a powerful sword, but was in fact, his courageous heart.
Where were Gryffindor's trump cards now? Where were the hat, the sword, the keening bird?
Was Magic, in the end, a cruel game of chance, or did Magic Itself choose the winners and the losers?
This dear child’s luck had ran out.
Hogwarts hated itself in that moment.
It Hated Magic. Magic that could not give life, only take.
The mighty fortress’ walls shook and water pipes burst in savage grief.
With a wrenching cleave of stone, Hogwarts yawned wide its broken heart,
and swallowed the boy and his secrets,
Whole.
