"Oh, the war tales, mostly," Eileen drawled in dreary voice, putting the Lumos-lit wand to her chin accordingly. "And the appeal of running into the new Widow Lestrange's ghost, firsthand of course." Eileen's smirk widened.
"Some say they even saw her already... If you manage to make it all the way up to the first Bell Tower at night, and peer outside at its twin, through the wind and the snow, you can see the girl, skinny and pale, looking out of the top window, like a trapped princess.
That's the Widow Lestrange.
Trapped forever, she lurks all the way on the top of the staircase of the second Bell tower, searching for her infant child that was taken from her in death.
She'll never rest now, not unless her bones are reburied with her daughter." Eileen's smirk twitched in the sinister lighting from below. "Quite a sad tale, it is. Mm-morbidly so. Children can be ever so creative..."
And Eileen's inner five-year-old and inner storyteller certainly rivaled them in morbidity. In fact, Eileen had all the confidence that she could tell better stories than any student, especially if a tale in question was her own farewell to the girl she once met.
Lilith.
Yes, the girl deserved a tale to be told about her. One to remember her by.