Stood side by side in the doorway to the great hall, Harry found he could barely breath. The hall was not as he expected to find it in his mind's eyes. It was dark, lit only by the moonlight glowing through the hall’s transparent ceiling. The candles, though they hovered in midair, were out, their quicks blackened and wilted. The house tables had been pushed flush up against the walls and were stacked one on top of the other (so that the house-elves could clean the hall perhaps?), and the house banners were rolled up and tied in place in the rafters. The hall, that was normally bright and airy and welcoming, was cold and repressive and frightening.