(1997, If Voldemort had won the battle)
"You ask where they all died? Well... Everywhere... On the steps, in the corridor, in the bathroom, in the classroom, on the long table in the auditorium... Everywhere, piled up in a pile, some with only one leg, an arm, or - just a head rolled down there. Their faces were gray, covered with black blood stains, and they were kicked aside like pockets... All of them were dead, not a single one was left."
"What? The Dark Lord has searched, and the 'Boy Who Lived' is dead..."
"Myself? I was too young at that time and couldn't understand or understand... Is Potter really dead? I used to believe that he was still hiding and waiting for an opportunity, but after so many years, if he were still alive, he would be too old to hold the Sword of Gryffindor!"
"Ah? She? She... I don't know, I left in the middle. Her... Body was probably found somewhere." The white-haired Mr. Malfoy suddenly paused, and his cloudy eyes stared at the window of the video studio as if he had seen something. It was evening, the sky was filled with light outside the window, and the setting sun was like blood. All reporters remained silent.
"Look, all the heroes are dead, even the castle is destroyed, only me survives, only me..."
The old man tried hard to stretch the loose muscles on his face, and finally pulled out a forced smile, which was particularly desolate under the dimming sunset.
Intention: Even if there are storms and storms coming, there are still people who never give up hope and light.
