In the Great Hall, Madam Pomfrey moved back and forth with a group of young wizards, her brow furrowed as she busily handed out freshly prepared medicines for injuries.
The wizards stationed at the other entrances had arrived in the Great Hall. In twos and threes, they sat beside injured companions or wizards whose faces had already been covered with white cloths, their expressions grief-stricken as they sobbed aloud.
Others sat alone on the floor, gazing up at the dark clouds pressing down in layers across the ceiling, their thoughts unknown.
A solemn hush hung over the Great Hall.
Battle was no children's game of make-believe. Even though Voldemort's true core forces had yet to move, quite a few people had already lost their lives. The Killing Curses flying everywhere and the Dark Magic modified by Voldemort were hardly easy magic to contend with.
Yes, anyone with eyes could see that Voldemort had not committed his full strength at all. Even he himself had only acted once, shattering the Protective Charm enveloping the entire castle.
Just as he had said that morning, this was merely psychological warfare meant to demonstrate his power.
"The entire castle has only one entrance left." Professor McGonagall came up to Su Er and Flitwick as they entered the Great Hall, deep sorrow on her face.
"Mr. Diggory said the Ministry of Magic is back under our control. Do you know the details, Su Er?"
"It was Professor Dumbledore's contingency plan." Su Er nodded slightly, but he was thinking about where Dumbledore had been earlier, whether he had seen the lives people had sacrificed, and how he must be struggling inwardly.
"That's good." Professor McGonagall exhaled. "I'm afraid Voldemort won't leave us much time. Let's hope the people from the Ministry of Magic get here soon."