It was quiet. And still. The only movement being the gentle swirl of the mist as its tendrils coiling around the bars on the gate and seeped through the gaps...almost as though reaching out to grab a hold of any living thing that came with in its ghostly grasp.

A twig snaps in the distance. Another ominous rustle in the grass. More silence. And there was a feeling that easily made the hairs stand on the back of your neck and palms sweat anxiously.

But the grey encroached no further, its phantom-like presence seemingly tied to the Hogwarts grounds themselves.