The stone of Hogwarts had always felt warm to Leo, like a living thing that hummed with the collective breath of centuries. But tonight, the stone was cold. It felt like a tomb.
Leo Thorne was thirteen. In the wizarding world, he was a third-year Hufflepuff who still struggled with the wand motion for *Expecto Patronum* and often forgot the difference between a monkshood and a wolfsbane. In the eyes of the Ministry, he was a child. In the eyes of Professor McGonagall, he was an evacuation priority.
"Move along! Quickly now! Third years, follow Mr. Filch to the Room of Requirement!"
The Great Hall was a sea of panicked robes and shouting voices. Leo was shoved toward the back of the line, his hand gripping the strap of his satchel so hard his knuckles were white. He looked for his sister, Sarah. She was a seventh-year, a Gryffindor. He saw her standing near the staff table, her face smudged with soot, her wand already out. She wasn't looking for him. She was looking at the windows.
"Sarah!" Leo yelled, but his voice was swallowed by the roar of the crowd.
The line surged forward. He was being pushed toward the exit, toward safety, toward the Hog?s Head. But as they passed a narrow corridor near the grand staircase, a blast shook the castle. The floor groaned. Dust and plaster rained down, blinding him.
When the smoke cleared, the line of students was gone, cut off by a pile of smoldering rubble. Leo was on the wrong side of it.
"Hello?" he coughed, waving his hand in the air. "Is anyone there?"
Silence. Then, a low, rhythmic thudding started. It was the sound of the giants hitting the protective dome of the school. *Boom. Boom. Boom.*
Leo?s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He should find a teacher. He should climb over the rubble. But then he heard a different sound: a high-pitched whimper coming from a darkened classroom to his left.
He crept toward the door, his wand trembling in his hand. "*Lumos*," he whispered.
The tip of his wand flickered with a weak, pale light. In the corner of the Charms classroom, huddled under a desk, was a first-year girl. A Slytherin, judging by the green trim on her robes. She was clutching a stuffed owl to her chest.
"Hey," Leo said, his voice cracking. "It?s okay. I?m Leo."
"They?re coming," she whispered, her eyes wide. "The shadows. I saw them through the window."
Leo looked. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple, lit by the flashes of spells hitting the shield. It looked
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