Midnight.
Delicate paws barely crunch the snow, though they leave their mark in a single line of prints. Christmas is the time for community warmth to defy the winter dark on Longest Night the Headmistress of Hogwarts walks alone.
She twitches a snowflake from her whiskers. Her domain is safe, thus far.
This moonlight, though… it renders the familiar unfamiliar. And thick-frozen air dulls normally vivid scents.
But there is life in those stark skeletal trees, she knows: Life, waiting to burst forth at winter’s end. Yes, the night is long, but the light will come.
The light will come.