Time slipped quietly by in silence. The oil lamp hanging from the rotten beam suddenly flickered despite the absence of wind, then went out.
No one moved.
Clear moonlight filtered through the greasy windowpanes, barely illuminating one ashen face after another.
"I'm sorry."
Sirius walked over to Amelia, who was leaning against a pillar in the bar. His lips moved, producing a nearly inaudible voice.
Amelia gently shook her head, then leaned into Sirius's arms.
Holding the slightly cool, delicate hand of the girl in his embrace, Sirius's heart trembled. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.
It was wonderful. Sirius wanted to say something encouraging, but in the end, he only let out a soft sigh and fell silent with everyone else.
Every heart was shrouded in gloom and confusion.
Amosta was gone. No one knew whether he was alive or dead.
Yet Dumbledore was utterly certain that Voldemort was still alive.
What should they do next?
Search aimlessly for Amosta?
Gather more people and, while Voldemort was severely wounded by Amosta, wage another world war against him?
Hogwarts had now become a nest of magical creatures. Classes could not even resume.
All they could do was wait. As for what they were waiting for, even they could not say.
Thud!
The sound of something heavy hitting the ground suddenly came from outside. With a crash, everyone inside, their nerves stretched taut, sprang to their feet in unison, wands already in hand. Some, like Harry, had already put on savage expressions.
"It's me—"
Fortunately, the aged voice that promptly reached the room stopped everyone teetering on the brink of losing control.
It was Dumbledore.
The door was pushed open, and Dumbledore hobbled in with someone supporting him.
Compared with that morning, Dumbledore, having endured a great battle,