Last night, the blood-stained moon had finally regained its clear radiance.
The wilderness, illuminated by pure moonlight, somehow carried a hint of summer's ease.
Yet Hogwarts lay beneath the shadow cast upon the earth by the Isle of Avalon, supported by three Sky-Supporting Pillars and the Whomping Willow.
Even in Hogsmeade, the savage roars of beasts could still be heard clearly, rising and falling from within that indigo barrier.
St Mungo's healers in dark green treatment robes hurried through Hogsmeade's brightly lit streets and alleys, each of them wearing an anxious expression.
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries could no longer accommodate so many wounded, so the Ministry of Magic had no choice but to requisition villagers' homes as treatment sites.
Overhead, teams of stern-faced Hit Wizards swept over the rooftops on broomsticks. The slightest disturbance would immediately put them on alert.
The entire village was shrouded in an atmosphere of tension and sorrow.
Ron rushed out of The Three Broomsticks Inn with an armful of food. Before he could take another step, a team of Hit Wizards landed in front of him with a whoosh.
"Name, business, destination!"
The lead Hit Wizard eyed Ron coldly, his eyes narrowed.
"I'm Ron Weasley, Arthur Weasley's youngest son. You questioned me when I came here just now—"
Ron hurriedly showed the patrol the bags of bread and Butterbeer in his arms, explaining nervously,
"I'm taking food to The Hog's Head Inn. There are a lot of people there. They haven't eaten all day."
"The Hog's Head Inn?"
Suspicion flickered in the lead Hit Wizard's eyes.
"That's strange. They have no food there?"
"There are too many people!"
Ron stressed again,
"The Hog's Head Inn owner doesn't have that much food in his cellar."
The Hit Wizard narrowed his eyes and