The night wind swept through the empty courtyard, stirring up a few fallen leaves that whirled where the Demon-Suppression Tower had once stood.
All that remained was a stretch of almost excessively level grass-when Douglas left, he had even thoughtfully cast Growth of All Things, instantly restoring the turf that had been crushed beneath the tower so it would not look like a bald patch.
"Click, clack, click, clack..."
Dull, slightly shuffling footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.
Mr. Argus Filch carried his dim oil lamp, his face full of vigilance as he made his routine nighttime rounds.
Ever since he had acquired this whip and the packet of Old Cold Legs Patches Professor Holmes had given him, Filch had felt twenty years younger.
There was a spring in his step now. If school had not been on holiday, he would have been itching to catch a couple of brats wandering around at night just to satisfy himself.
"Hmph, that damned Peeves..."
Filch muttered as he walked, his cloudy eyes scanning every corner of the darkness.
"Just let me catch you again... I'll whip you into a bow..."
He rounded the corner and habitually glanced toward the center of the courtyard.
Judging by past experience, a dark tower should have been standing there, one that gave people the creeps just to look at it.
Whenever he passed it, Filch always gave it a wide berth, because the tower always made him feel as though something even more frightening than students was locked inside.
"Hm?"
Filch stopped. His oil lamp swayed, casting wavering, ghostly shadows on the wall.
He rubbed his eyes and took another two steps forward.
"Strange..."
Filch muttered to himself, a trace of puzzlement in his voice.
"Why is the wind so strong tonight? Didn't