Son of Magic

Chapter 12

29th November, 1941

One of the many corridors in Hogwarts

It had been two days since Grindelwald and his men attacked Hogsmeade, robbing the student-body of their sweet innocence and naivety. In a few short hours, all houses, no matter their colours, had their blindfolds ripped from their eyes, causing them to age beyond their years and forcing them to face the reality that awaits them beyond the safety of Hogwarts' walls.

Silence haunted the castle as students and teachers all mourned the peace, those days spent worrying about essays and grades. They mourned the easy days, because now...now their worries were that of a more profound nature.

Yes, they had known about the war—about the violence and useless murders.

They had read about it in the newspapers and had listened to the adults discuss it. They had even discussed it among themselves, naively debating the politics and ethics of war. But it's different now that they knew what it felt like to be terrified of not living through the next moment.

None of them had been prepared for the harsh truth, that, no, they were not exempt from the horror and bloodshed.

To those who wished to conquer the world, it didn't matter that they are nought but children. Their deaths would be considered collateral damage. Yes, even those precious pureblood children. Everyone was expendable.

The war they never thought would reach their shores has come for them, and while it has not taken their lives yet, it has taken something just as precious. The war has taken whatever had been left of their childhood, and none of them would be able to rest until it was all over.

Their futures were no longer bold and tangible. No, their futures were now cast in a shadow of doubt and tainted by the brush of death.

They felt frightened and helpless, but time did not stop and wait for them to process the events. Life continued on at Hogwarts, even with the dark cloud hovering above the tall castle. They had to adjust and move on, however hard and impossible that was.

Thankfully, most of the injured students had been healed and released. There were only a handful of them left that were still recovering in the Hospital Wing—Hadrian and Alphard included.

In a show of great compassion, the Headmaster decided not to cancel classes. 'It's better for all of you to have a distraction from the horrible experience you've had to go through,' Dippet had announced at dinner last night. Not that Orion could fault him for his reasoning. It had definitely helped keep his mind off the fact that Harry had yet to wake up, and that Alphard's trip to Harry's subconscious had rendered him mute.

Orion faltered in his step at that thought and sighed dejectedly.

Yes, his cousin had not spoken a single word since the blood ritual, and nothing they said or did was able to jar him out of his shocked state of mind.

At first, Orion thought that something had gone wrong with the ritual, but his father had reassured everyone that their ancestors had accepted their bid for aid and that the ritual had gone well. He'd even said that their Black Family Magics had been almost eager to help, which was highly unusual since Black Family magic was always difficult at best.

Arcturus had been adamant that Harry would wake up, that he just needed time to rest so that his core could replenish itself. Alphard, on the other hand, was working through what he'd seen inside Harry's mind. 'He's processing,' had been Arcturus' exact words, his face showing great concern. If that concern had been for Alphard or Harry, Orion wasn't quite sure, and he hadn't asked.