[ You've stepped out of the forest and into the corridor of a castle. You can imagine its size from the high walls and grand stone ceilings but there's no time to admire it nor the moving paintings or the exquisite tapestries—because all of it is shaking, crumbling, burning, thundering under a barrage of spells, of giants' fists. The school is under siege and you are trapped in the thick of it.
You may recognise the redheaded young woman who comes running out of a passageway, clothes torn or burned away in places, bleeding but alive and angry and frightened all at once. She has a wand in her hand but she isn't the witch you're seeking (is she?). When the castle shakes again, she turns and shouts to you, sharp and unintelligible in the din, and gestures—come with me, we can't stay here.
If you follow her, you might be drawn into a raging battlefield, a smoky corridor filled with brightly flashing lights, screams and cries, bodies on the cracked and bloodied flagstones (some in pyjamas, some are children, and others are men and women in black robes and masks). Ginny lifts her own wand and plunges into it, tries to cut a path through the combatants to safety, the maddening tempo of family, must find my family, and suddenly she isn't that sweet English girl everyone seems to know but a soldier in her own right, vicious strokes of her wand and precisely aimed hexes.
The vision continues like this. Bursts of battle followed with eerie lulls in silent, empty hallways. Welcome to Hogwarts. ]
ginny weasley | nightmare.
You may recognise the redheaded young woman who comes running out of a passageway, clothes torn or burned away in places, bleeding but alive and angry and frightened all at once. She has a wand in her hand but she isn't the witch you're seeking (is she?). When the castle shakes again, she turns and shouts to you, sharp and unintelligible in the din, and gestures—come with me, we can't stay here.
If you follow her, you might be drawn into a raging battlefield, a smoky corridor filled with brightly flashing lights, screams and cries, bodies on the cracked and bloodied flagstones (some in pyjamas, some are children, and others are men and women in black robes and masks). Ginny lifts her own wand and plunges into it, tries to cut a path through the combatants to safety, the maddening tempo of family, must find my family, and suddenly she isn't that sweet English girl everyone seems to know but a soldier in her own right, vicious strokes of her wand and precisely aimed hexes.
The vision continues like this. Bursts of battle followed with eerie lulls in silent, empty hallways. Welcome to Hogwarts. ]