The train finally stopped and we all got our luggage out of the upper racks. It wasn't until I got off the train at Hogsmeade station that I realized what was causing the unnerving niggling at the back of my consciousness: the area was still held by the anarchist wizards and were sealed in a blood circle as a type of siege until they surrendered. The likeness of Kingsley Shacklebolt was burning in effigy while the locked-down area was covered in anti-Ministry graffiti. Harry Potter was on the other side of it, his face patient and searching as if he were seeking the Snitch in Quidditch. Brutal yet pacifist, I realized, glad to see Harry keeping the peace.