Chapter 30: The White Tomb


All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students

were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of

days - the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the morning following

Dumbledore's death and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his

haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-

blank to accompany his mother home; they had a shouting match in the

Entrance Hall which was resolved when she agreed that he could remain

behind for the funeral. She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade,

Seamus told Harry and Ron, for wizards and witches were pouring into the

village, preparing to pay their last respects to Durnbledore.


Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never

seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a

dozen giant winged palo-minos, came soaring out of the sky in the late

afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the Forest. Harry

watched from a window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, black-

haired woman descended the carriage steps and threw herself into the

waiting Hagrid's arms. Meanwhile a delegation of Ministry officials,

including the Minister for Magic himself, was being accommodated within

the castle. Harry was diligently avoiding contact with any of them; he


was sure that, sooner or later, he would be asked again to account for

Dumbledore's last excursion from Hogwarts.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were spending all of their time together.

The beautiful weather seemed to mock them; Harry could imagine how it

would have been if Durnbledore had not died, and they had had this time

together at the very end of the year, Ginny's examinations finished, the

pressure of homework lifted ... and hour by hour, he put off saying the thing

that he knew he must say, doing what he knew it was right to do, because it

was too hard to forgo his best source of comfort.


They visited the hospital wing twice a day: Neville had been discharged,

but Bill remained under Madam Pomfrey's care. His scars were as bad as

ever; in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody,

though thankfully with both eyes and legs, but in personality he seemed jusi

the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that he now had a

great liking for very rare steaks.


'... so eet ees lucky 'e is marrying me,' said Fleur happily, plumping up

Bill's pillows, 'because ze British overcook their meat, I 'ave always said

this.'


'I suppose I'm just going to have to accept that he really is going to marry

her,' sighed Ginny later that evening, as she, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat

beside the open window of the Gryffindor common room, looking out over

the twilit grounds,


'She's not that bad,' said Harry. 'Ugly, though,' he added hastily, as Ginny

raised her eyebrows, and she let out a reluctant giggle.

'Well, I suppose if Mum can stand it, 1 can.'


'Anyone else we know died?' Ron asked Hermione, who was perusing the

Evening Prophet.


Hermione winced at the forced toughness in his voice.


'No,' she said reprovingly, folding up ihe newspaper. 'They're still looking

for Snape, but no sign ...'


'Of course there isn't,' said Harry, who became angry every lime this

subject cropped up. They won't find Snape till they find Voldemort, and

seeing as they've never managed to do that in all this time ...'


'I'm going to go to bed,' yawned Ginny. 'I haven't been sleeping thai well

since ... well ... I could do with some sleep.'


She kissed Harry (Ron looked away pointedly), waved al the other two

and departed for the girls' dormitories. The moment the door had closed

behind her, Hermione leaned forwards towards Harry with a most

Hermione-ish look on her face.


'Harry, I found something ou( this morning, in the library ..,'


'R.A.B.?' said Harry, silling up straight.

He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, excited, curious,

burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; he simply knew that the task of

discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed before he

could move a little further along the dark and winding path stretching ahead

of him, the path that he and Dumbledore had set out upon together, and

which he now knew he would have to journey alone. There might still be as

many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere and each would need to be

found and elim-inated before there was even a possibility that Voldemort

could be killed. He kept reciting their names to himself, as though by listing

them he could bring them within reach: 'the locket .., the cup ... the snake ...

something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's ... the locket ... the cup ... the

snake ... something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's ...'


This mantra seemed to pulse through Harry's mind as he


fell asleep at night, and his dreams were thick with cups, lockets and

mysterious objects that he could not quite reach, though Dumbledore

helpfully offered Harry a rope ladder that turned to snakes the moment he

began to climb ...


He had shown Hermione the note inside the locket the morning after

Dumbledore's death, and although she had not immediately recognised the

initials as belonging to some obscure wizard about whom she had been

reading, she had since been rushing off to the library a little more often than

was strictly necessary for somebody who had no homework to do.

'No,' she said sadly, 'I've been trying, Harry, but I haven't found anything

... there are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with those initials -

Rosalind Antigone Bungs ... Rupert "Axebanger" Brookstanton ... but they

don't seem to fit at all. Judging by that note, the person who stole the

Horcrux knew Voldemort, and I can't find a shred of evidence that Bungs or

Axebanger ever had anything to do with him ... no, actually, it's about ...

well, Snape.'


She looked nervous even saying the name again.


'What about him?' asked Harry heavily, slumping back in his chair.


'Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Prince

business,' she said tentatively.


'D'you have to rub it in, Hermione? How tTyou think 1 feel about that

now?'


'No - no - Harry, I didn't mean that!' she said hastily, look-ing around to

check that they were not being overheard. 'It's just that 1 was right about

Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see ... she was Snape's mother!'


T thought she wasn't much of a looker,' said Ron. Hermione ignored him.


'1 was going through ihe rest of the old Prophets and there

was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called

Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth

to a -'


'- murderer,' spat Harry.


'Well ... yes,' said Hermione. 'So ... 1 was sort of right. Snape must have

been proud of being "half a Prince", you see? Tobias Snape was a Muggie

from what it said in the Prophet'


'Yeah, that fits,' said Harry. 'He'd play up the pure-blood side so he could

get in with Lucius Malfoy and the rest of them ... he's just like Voldemort.

Pure-blood mother, Muggie father ... ashamed of his parentage, trying to

make himself feared using the Dark Arts, gave himself an impressive new

name - Lard Voldemort - the Half-Blood Prince - how could Dumbledore

have missed -?'


He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself

dwelling upon Dumbledore's inexcusable trust in Snape ... but as Hermione

had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been taken in just the

same ... in spite of the increasing nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had

refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had helped him

so much ...


Helped him ... it was an almost unendurable thought, now ...

'I still don't get why he didn't turn you in for using that book,' said Ron.

'He must've known where you were getting it ali from.'


'He knew,' said Harry bitterly. 'He knew when I used Secfumsempra. He

didn't really need Legilimency ... he might even have known before then,

with Slughom talking about how brilliant I was at Potions ... shouldn't have

left his old book in the bottom of that cupboard, should he?'


'But why didn't he turn you in?'


'I don't ihink he wanted to associate himself with that book,' said

Hermione. 'I don't think Dumbledore would have liked it very much if he'd

known. And even if Snape pre-tended it hadn't been his, Slughom would

have recognised his writing at once. Anyway, the book was left in Snape's

old classroom, and I'll bet Dumbledore knew his mother was called

"Prince".'


T should've shown the book to Dumbledore,' said Harry. 'All that lime he

was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and 1

had proof Snape was, too -'


'"Evil" is a strong word,' said Hermione quietly.


'You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!'

'I'm trying to say, Harry, that you're pulling too much blame on yourself. 1

thought the Prince seemed to have a nasty sense of humour, but I would

never have guessed he was a potential killer ...'


'None of us could've guessed Snape would ... you know,' said Ron.


Silence fell between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but

Harry was sure that they, like him, were think-ing about the following

morning, when Dumbledore's body would be laid to rest. Harry had never

attended a funeral before; there had been no body to bury when Sirius had

died. He did not know what to expect and was a little worried about what he

might see, about how he would feel. He won-dered whether Dumbledore's

death would be more real to him once the funeral was over. Though he had

moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm him, there

were blank stretches of numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was

talking about anything else in the whole castle, he still found it difficult 10

believe that Dumbledore


had really gone. Admittedly he had not, as he had with Sirius, looked

desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that Dumbledore would

come back ... he felt in his pocket for the cold chain of the fake Horcrux,

which he now carried with him everywhere, not as a talisman, but as a

reminder of what it had cost and what remained still to do.


Harry rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be

leaving an hour after the funeral. Down-stairs he found the mood in the

Great Hall subdued. Every-body was wearing their dress robes and no one

seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in

the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was des-erted too: Harry

thought thai perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast; but Snape's

place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry avoided

his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; Harry had the uncomfortable

feeling that Scrimgeour was looking for him. Among Scrimgeour's

entourage Harry spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy

Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware of Percy, apart from stabbing

pieces of kipper with unwonted venom.


Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were mutter-

ing together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked

oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malfoy between

them, bossing them around. Harry had not spared Malfoy

much thought. His animosity was all for Snape, but he had

not forgotten the fear in Malfoy's voice on that Tower top, nor

the fact that he had lowered his wand before the other Death

Eaters arrived. Harry did not believe that Malfoy would have

killed Dumbledore. He despised Malfoy still for his infatu-

ation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity

mingled with his dislike. Where, Harry wondered, was Malfoy

now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of

killing him and his parents? ? ···>.


Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Ginny.

Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall

died away at once.

'It is nearly time,' she said. 'Please follow your Heads of House out into

the grounds. Gryffindors, after me.'


They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. Harry glimpsed

Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long

emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor

Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single

patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found

Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her

knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reek-ing of mothbails.


They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out on to the stone

steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed

his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where

hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the centre of

them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It

was the most beautiful summer's day.


An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the

chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not recognise, but

there were a few that he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix:

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously

returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be

holding hands, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill sup-ported by Fleur and followed

by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. Then

there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own,

Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry's Squib

neighbour, the hairy bass player from the


wizardmg group the Weird bisters, hrnie Frang, dnver ol the Knight Bus,

Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom

Harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head and the

witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts

were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when

they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.


Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row

beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a

breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued

to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville

being helped into a seat by Luna. They alone of all the DA had responded to

Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died, and Harry knew

why: they were the ones who had missed the DA most ... probably the ones

who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be

another meeting ...


Cornelius Fudge walked past them towards the front rows, his expression

miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual; Harry next recognised Rita

Skeeter, who, he was infuri-ated to see, had a notebook clutched in her red-

takmed hand; and then, with a worse jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an

unconvincing expression of grief upon her toadlike face, a black velvet bow

set atop her iron-coloured curls. At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was

standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried

hastily into a seat a good distance away.


The staff were seated at last. Harry could see Scrimgeour looking grave

and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered

whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that

Dumbledore wasand he forgot his dislike of the Ministry in looking around

for the source of it. He was not the only one: many heads were turning,

searching, a little alarmed.


'In there,' whispered Ginny in Harry's ear.


And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface,

reminding him horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople singing in a

strange language he did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their

purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Harry's

neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and

of despair. As he looked down into the wild faces of the singers he had the

feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing. Then Ginny

nudged him again and he looked round.


Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying

quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in

purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Harry knew to be

Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in Harry's throat at this sight: for a

moment, the strange music and the knowledge that Dumbledore's body was

so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Ron looked white and

shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast into both Ginny and Hermione's

laps.




They could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid

seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated

down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew

scandalised looks from some, including, Harry saw, Dolores Umbridge ...

but Harry knew that Dumbledore would not have cared. He tried to make a

friendly gesture to Hagrid as he passed, but Hagrid's eyes were so swollen it

was a wonder he could see where he was going. Harry glanced at the back

row to which Hagrid


was heading and realised what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a

jacket and trousers each the size of a small mar-quee, was the giant Grawp,

his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat

down next to his half-brother and Grawp palled Hagrid hard on the head, so

that his chair legs sank into the ground. Harry had a wonder-ful momentary

urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front

again.


A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood

now in front of Dumbledore's body. Harry could not hear what he was

saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of beads.

'Nobility of spirit' ... 'intel-lectual contribution' ... 'greatness of heart' ... it did

not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had

known him. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's idea of a few words:

'nitwit', 'oddment', 'blubber' and 'tweak 1, and again, had to suppress a grin ...

what was the matter with him?


There was a soft splashing noise to his left and he saw that the merpeople

had broken the surface to listen, too. He remembered Dumbledore crouching

at the water's edge two years ago, very close to where Harry now sat, and

conversing in Mermish with the Merchieftainess. Harry wondered where

Dumbledore had learned Mermish. There was so much he had never asked

him, so much he should have said ...


And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more

completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead,

gone ... he clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he

could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes: he looked away from

Ginny and the others and stared out over the lake, towards the Forest, as the

little man in black droned on ... there was movement among the trees. The

centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move into the

open but Harry saw them


standing quite still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wiz-ards, their

bows hanging at their sides. And Harry remem-bered his first nightmarish

trip into the Forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was

then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and Dumbledore

had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important,

Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then

could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated ...

And Harry saw very clearly as be sal there under the hot sun bow people

who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his

father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him;

but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and

Voldemort; he must abandon for ever the illusion he ought to have lost at the

age of one: that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt

him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the

dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and

greatest of his proteclors had died and he was more alone than he had ever

been before.


The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat.

Harry waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches,

probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.


Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around

Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they

rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made

strange shapes: Harry thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a

phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In

its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the

table on which he had rested.


There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared

through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Harry knew, the

centaurs' tribute: he saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees.

Likewise the mer-people sank slowly back into the green water and were

lost from view.


Harry looked ai Ginny, Ron and Hermione: Ron's face was screwed up as

though the sunlight was blinding him. Hermione's face was glazed with

tears, but Ginny was no longer crying. She met Harry's gaze with the same

hard, blazing look that he had seen when she had hugged him after winning

the Quidditch Cup in his absence, and he knew that at that moment they

understood each other perfectly, and that when he told her what he was

going to do now, she would not say 'Be careful', or 'Don't do it', but accept

his decision, because she would not have expected anything less of him. And

so he steeled himself to say what he had known he must say ever since

Dumbledore had died.


'Ginny, listen ...' he said very quietly, as the buzz of con-versation grew

louder around them and people began to get to their feet. 'I can't be involved

with you any more. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be

together.'


She said, with an oddly twisted smile, 'It's for some stupid, noble reason,

isn't it?'


'It's been like ... like something out of someone else's life, these last few

weeks with you,' said Harry. 'But 1 can't ... we can't ... I've got things to do

alone now.'


She did not cry, she simply looked at him,

'Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you as

bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how

much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll

try and get to me through you.'


'What if I don't care?' said Ginny fiercely.


'I care,' said Harry. 'How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral ...

and it was my fault ...'


She looked away from him, over the lake.


T never really gave up on you,' she said. 'Not really. I always hoped ...

Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people,

relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in

the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I

was a bit more - myself.'


'Smart girl, that Hermione,' said Harry, trying to smile. 'I just wish I'd

asked you sooner. We coukTve had ages ... months ... years maybe ...'


'But you've been too busy saving the wizarding world,' said Ginny, half-

laughing. 'Well ... I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would happen in the

end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort.

Maybe that's why I like you so much.'

Harry could not bear to hear these things, nor did he think his resolution

would hold if he remained sitting beside her. Ron, he saw, was now holding

Hermione and stroking her hair while she sobbed into his shoulder, tears

dripping from the end of his own long nose. With a miserable gesture, Harry

got up, turned his back on Ginny and on Dumbledore's tomb and walked

away around the lake. Moving felt much more bearable than sitting still: just

as setting out as soon as possible to track down the Horcruxes and kill

Voldemort would feel better than waiting to do it ...


'Harry!'


He turned. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards him around the

bank, leaning on his walking stick.


'I've been hoping to have a word ... do you mind if I walk a little way with

you?'


'No,' said Harry indifferently, and set off again.


'Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy,' said Scrimgeour quietly, 'I cannot tell

you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard.

We had our disagree-ments, as you know, but no one knows better than 1 -'


·What do you want?' asked Harry flatly.


Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his

expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

'You are, of course, devastated,' he said. 'I know that you were very close

to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite ever pupil. The

bond between the two of you -'


'What do you want?' Harry repeated, coming to a halt.


Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at Harry, his

expression shrewd now.


'The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night that

he died.'


'Whose word?' said Harry.


'Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after Dumbledore

died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two

and two, Harry.'


'Glad to hear it,' said Harry. 'Well, where I went with Dumbledore and

what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know.'


'Such loyalty is admirable, of course,' said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be

restraining his irritation with difficulty, 'bul Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's

gone.'

'He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him,'

said Harry, smiling in spite of himself.


'My dear boy ... even Dumbledore cannot return from the-'


'I am not saying he can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to

tell you.'


Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was evidently


supposed to be a tone of delicacy, The Ministry can offer you all sorts of

protection, you know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my

Aurors at your service -'


Harry laughed.


'Voldemort wants to kill me himself and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks

for the offer, but no thanks.'


'So,' said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, 'the request 1 made of you at

Christmas -'


'What request? Oh yeah ... the one where I tell the world what a great job

you're doing in exchange for --'


'- for raising everyone's morale!' snapped Scrimgeour.

Harry considered him for a moment.


'Released Stan Shunpike yet?'


Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple colour highly remin-iscent of Uncle

Vernon.


'1 see you are -'


'Dumbledore's man through and through,' said Harry. 'That's right.'


Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then turned and limped

away without another word. Harry could see Percy and the rest of the

Ministry delegation waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the sobbing

Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their seats. Ron and Hermione were

hurry-ing towards Harry, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite

direction; Harry turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up,

which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which they had sat

in happier times.


"What did Scrimgeour want?' Hermione whispered.


'Same as he wanted at Christmas,' shrugged Harry. 'Wanted me to give

him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster

boy.'

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to

Hermione, 'Look, let me go back and hit Percy!'


'No,' she said firmly, grabbing his arm.


'It'll make me feel better!'


Harry laughed. Even Hermione grinned a little, though her smile faded as

she looked up at the castle.


'I can't bear the idea that we might never come back.' she said softly. 'How

can Hogwarts close?'


'Maybe it won't,' said Ron. 'We're not in any more danger here than we are

at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is

safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon,

Harry?'


'I'm not coming back even if it does reopen,' said Harry.


Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, 'I knew you were going to

say that. But then what will you do? 1


'I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore wanted

me to,' said Harry. 'But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good.'


'But where will you go if you don't come back to school?'

'I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow,' Harry mut-tered. He had

had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore's death. 'For me,

it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can

visit my parents' graves, I'd like that.'


'And then what?' said Ron.


Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?' said

Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the

other side of the lake. That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me

all about them. If Dumbledore was right - and I'm sure he was -there are still

four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've

got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his

body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape


along the way,' he added, 'so much trie better tor me, so mucn the worse

for him.'


There was a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed now, the

stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he

cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the water.


'We'll be there, Harry,' said Ron.


'What?'

At your aunt and uncle's house,' said Ron. 'And then we'll go with you,

wherever you're going.'


'No -' said Harry quickly; he had not counted on this, he had meant them

to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone.


'You said to us once before,' said Hermione quietly, 'that there was time to

turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?'


'We're with you whatever happens,' said Ron. 'But, mate, you're going to

have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else,

even Godric's Hollow.'


'Why?'


'Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?'


Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a

wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful.


'Yeah, we shouldn't miss that,' he said finally.


His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of

everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for

himself, in spite of the final meet-ing with Voldemort he knew must come,

whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought

that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and

Hermione.

The End.


Chapter 29: The Pheonix Lament


C 'mere, Harry ..."


"No."


"Yeh can' stay here, Harry. ... Come on, now...." "No."


He did not want to leave Dumbledores side, he did not want to move

anywhere. Hagrid's hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice

said, "Harry, come on."


A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him

upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he

walked blindly back through the crowd did he realize, from a trace of

flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back into

the castle. Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and shouts and wails

stabbed the night, but Harry and Ginny walked on, back up the steps into the

entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry's vision, people were

peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on

the floor like drops of blood as they made their way toward the marble

staircase.


"We're going to the hospital wing," said Ginny.


"I'm not hurt," said Harry. !

"It's McGonagalls orders," said Ginny. "Everyone's up there, Ron and

Hermione and Lupin and everyone -"


Fear stirred in Harry's chest again: He had forgotten the inert figures he

had left behind.


"Ginny, who else is dead?"


"Don't worry, none of us."


"But the Dark Mark - Malfoy said he stepped over a body -"


"He stepped over Bill, but its all right, he's alive."


There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill.


"Are you sure?"


"Of course I'm sure . . . he's a - a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback

attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won't - won't look the same anymore.

. . ."


Ginny's voice trembled a little.


"We don't really know what the aftereffects will be - I mean, Greyback

being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time."

"But the others . . . There were other bodies on the ground. . . ."


"Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but Madam Pomfrey says

they'll be all right. And a Death Eater's dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse

that huge blond one was firing off everywhere - Harry, if we hadn't had your

Felix potion, I think we'd all have been killed, but everything seemed to just

miss us -"


They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Harry saw

Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Ron, Hermione,

Luna, Tonks, and Lupin were gathered around another bed near the far end

of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Hermione

ran to Harry and hugged him; Lupin moved forward too, looking anxious.


"Are you all right, Harry?"


"I'm fine.... How's Bill?"


Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw an

unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that

he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some

harsh-smelling green ointment. Harry remembered how Snape had mended

Malfoy's Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand.


"Can't you fix them with a charm or something?" he asked the matron.

"No charm will work on these," said Madam Pomfrey. "I've tried

everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."


"But he wasn't bitten at the full moon," said Ron, who was gazing down

into his brother's face as though he could somehow force him to mend just

by staring. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a - a real -

?" :


He looked uncertainly at Lupin.


"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," said Lupin, "but that

does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed

wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and - and Bill might have some

wolfish characteristics from now on."


"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron said.

"Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders,

Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state -"


"Ron - Dumbledores dead," said Ginny.


"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the

latter might contradict her, but when Harry did nor, Lupin collapsed into a

chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin

lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something

private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging

in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said.

"How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"


"Snape killed him," said Harry. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on

the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was. . . . Dumbledore

was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard

footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I

was under the Invisibility Cloak - and then Malfoy came through the door

and disarmed him -"


Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned. Luna's

mouth trembled.


"- more Death Eaters arrived - and then Snape - and Snape did it. The

Avada Kedavra." Harry couldn't go on.


Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except

Ginny, who whispered, "Shh! Listen!"


Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes

wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry

had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt,

as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not

without: It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the

grounds and through the castle windows.

How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it

seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but

it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor

McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent

battle: There were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped.


"Molly and Arthur are on their way," she said, and the spell of the music

was broken: Everyone roused themselves as though coming out of trances,

turning again to look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyest shake their heads.

"Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor

Dumbledore when he - when it happened. He says Professor Snape was

involved in some -" "Snape killed Dumbledore," said Harry.


She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam

Pomfrey, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring

a chair from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall.


"Snape," repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. "We all

wondered . . . but he trusted . . . always . . . Snape... I can't believe it. ..."


"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," said Lupin, his voice

uncharacteristically harsh. "We always knew that."


"But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!" whispered Tonks. "I always

thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that we didn't. ..." .

"He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape,"

muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking

eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. "I mean . . . with Snapes history ... of

course people were bound to wonder. . . but Dumbledore told me explicitly

that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine-----Wouldn't hear a word

against him!"


"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," said Tonks.


"I know," said Harry, and they all turned to look at him. "Snape passed

Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and

dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was doing, he

was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead."


They all stared at him.


"And Dumbledore believed that?" said Lupin incredulously. "Dumbledore

believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James. . . ."


"And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either," said Harry,

"because she was Muggle-born... 'Mudblood,' he called her. ..."


Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in

horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.


"This is all my fault," said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked

disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. "My fault. I sent

Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I

hadn't alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined

forces with the Death Eaters. I don't think he knew they were there before

Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were coming."


"It isn't your fault, Minerva," said Lupin firmly. "We all wanted more

help, we were glad to think Snape was on his way...."


"So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters' side?"

asked Harry, who wanted every detail of Snape's duplicity and infamy,

feverishly collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear vengeance.


"I don't know exactly how it happened," said Professor McGonagall

distractedly. "It's all so confusing. . . . Dumbledore had told us that he would

be leaving the school for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors

just in case . . . Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora were to join us ... and so we

patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every secret passageway out of the school was

covered. We knew nobody could fly in. There were powerful enchantments

on every entrance into the castle. I still don't know how the Death Eaters can

possibly have entered. . . ."


"I do," said Harry, and he explained, briefly, about the pair of Vanishing

Cabinets and the magical pathway they formed. "So they got in through the

Room of Requirement."


Almost against his will he glanced from Ron to Hermione, both of whom

looked devastated.

"I messed up, Harry," said Ron bleakly. "We did like you told us: We

checked the Marauder's Map and we couldn't see Malfoy on it, so we

thought he must be in the Room of Requirement, so me, Ginny, and Neville

went to keep watch on it... but Malfoy got past us."


"He came out of the room about an hour after we started keeping watch,"

said Ginny. "He was on his own, clutching that awful shriveled arm -"


"His Hand of Glory," said Ron. "Gives light only to the holder,

remember?"


"Anyway," Ginny went on, "he must have been checking whether the

coast was clear to let the Death Eaters out, because the moment he saw us he

threw something into the air and it all went pitch-black -"


"- Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," said Ron bitterly. "Fred and

George's. I'm going to be having a word with them about who they let buy

their products."


"We tried everything, Lumos, Incendio," said Ginny. "Nothing would

penetrate the darkness; all we could do was grope our way out of the

corridor again, and meanwhile we could hear people rushing past us.

Obviously Malfoy could see because of that hand thing and was guiding

them, but we didn't dare use any curses or anything in case we hit each

other, and by the time we'd reached a corridor that was light, they'd gone."

"Luckily," said Lupin hoarsely, "Ron, Ginny, and Neville ran into us

almost immediately and told us what had happened. We found the Death

Eaters minutes later, heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Malfoy obviously hadn't expected more people to be on the watch; he

seemed to have exhausted his supply of Darkness Powder, at any rate. A

fight broke out, they scattered and we gave chase. One of them, Gibbon,

broke away and headed up the tower stairs -"


"To set off the Mark?" asked Harry.


"He must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left the

Room of Requirement," said Lupin. "But I don't think Gibbon liked the idea

of waiting up there alone for Dumbledore, because he came running back

downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed

me."


"So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and

Neville," said Harry, turning to Hermione, "were you - ?"


"Outside Snape's office, yes," whispered Hermione, her eyes sparkling

with tears, "with Luna. We hung around for ages outside it and nothing

happened. . . . We didn't know what was going on upstairs, Ron had taken

the map-----It was nearly midnight when Professor Flitwick came sprinting

down into the dungeons. He was shouting about Death Eaters in the castle, I

don't think he really registered that Luna and I were there at all, he just burst

his way into Snape's office and we heard him saying that Snape had to go

back with him and help and then we heard a loud thump and Snape came

hurtling out of his room and he saw us and - and -" "What?" Harry urged

her.


"I was so stupid, Harry!" said Hermione in a high-pitched whisper. "He

said Professor Flitwick had collapsed and that we should go and take care of

him while he - while he went to help fight the Death Eaters -" She covered

her face in shame and continued to talk into her fingers, so that her voice

was muffled. "We went into his office to see if we could help Professor

Flitwick and found him unconscious on the floor. . . and oh, it's so obvious

now, Snape must have Stupefied Flitwick, but we didn't realize, Harry, we

didn't realize, we just let Snape go!"


"It's not your fault," said Lupin firmly. "Hermione, had you not obeyed

Snape and got out of the way, he probably would have killed you and Luna."


"So then he came upstairs," said Harry, who was watching Snape running

up the marble staircase in his mind's eye, his black robes billowing behind

him as ever, pulling his wand from under his cloak as he ascended, "and he

found the place where you were all fighting. ..."


"We were in trouble, we were losing," said Tonks in a low voice. "Gibbon

was down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the

death. Neville had been hurt, Bill had been savaged by Greyback... It was all

dark . . . curses flying everywhere . . . The Malfoy boy had vanished, he

must have slipped past, up the stairs . . . then more of them ran after him, but

one of them blocked the stair behind them with some kind of curse. . . .

Neville ran at it and got thrown up into the air -"

"None of us could break through," said Ron, "and that massive Death

Eater was still firing off jinxes all over the place, they were bouncing off the

walls and barely missing us. . . ."


"And then Snape was there," said Tonks, "and then he wasn't -"


"I saw him running toward us, but that huge Death Eaters jinx just missed

me right afterward and I ducked and lost track of things," said Ginny.


"I saw him run straight through the cursed barrier as though it wasn't

there," said Lupin. "I tried to follow him, but was thrown back just like

Neville. . . ."


"He must have known a spell we didn't," whispered McGonagall. "After

all - he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. ... I just assumed that

he was in a hurry to chase after the Death Eaters who'd escaped up to the

tower. ..."


"He was," said Harry savagely, "but to help them, not to stop them . . .

and I'll bet you had to have a Dark Mark to get through that barrier - so what

happened when he came back down?"


"Well, the big Death Eater had just fired off a hex that caused half the

ceiling to fall in, and also broke the curse blocking the stairs," said Lupin.

"We all ran forward - those of us who were still standing anyway - and then

Snape and the boy emerged out of the dust - obviously, none of us attacked

them -"


"We just let them pass," said Tonks in a hollow voice. "We thought they

were being chased by the Death Eaters - and next thing, the other Death

Eaters and Greyback were back and we were fighting again - I thought I

heard Snape shout something, but I don't know what -"


"He shouted, 'It's over,'" said Harry. "He'd done what he'd meant to do."


They all fell silent. Fawkes's lament was still echoing over the dark

grounds outside. As the music reverberated upon the air, unbidden,

unwelcome thoughts slunk into Harry's mind. . . . Had they taken

Dumbledore's body from the foot of the tower yet? What would happen to it

next? Where would it rest? He clenched his fists tighdy in his pockets. He

could feel the small cold lump of the fake Horcrux against the knuckles of

his right hand.


The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making them all jump: Mr. and

Mrs. Weasley were striding up the ward, Fleur just behind them, her

beautiful face terrified.


"Molly - Arthur -" said Professor McGonagall, jumping up and hurrying

to greet them. "I am so sorry -"


"Bill," whispered Mrs. Weasley, darting past Professor McGonagall as

she caught sight of Bill's mangled face. "Oh, Bill!"

Lupin and Tonks had got up hastily and retreated so that Mr. and Mrs.

Weasley could get nearer to the bed. Mrs. Weasley bent over her son and

pressed her lips to his bloody forehead.


"You said Greyback attacked him?" Mr. Weasley asked Professor

McGonagall distractedly. "But he hadn't transformed? So what does that

mean? What will happen to Bill?"


"We don't yet know," said Professor McGonagall, looking helplessly at

Lupin.


"There will probably be some contamination, Arthur," .said Lupin. "It is

an odd case, possibly unique. . . . We don't know what his behavior might be

like when he awakens. . . ."


Mrs. Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey

and began dabbing at Bill's wounds.


"And Dumbledore ..." said Mr. Weasley. "Minerva, is it true ... Is he

really. . . ?"


As Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry felt Ginny move beside him and

looked at her. Her slightly narrowed eyes were fixed upon Fleur, who was

gazing down at Bill with a frozen expression on her face.

"Dumbledore gone," whispered Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley had eyes

only for her eldest son; she began to sob, tears falling onto Bill's mutilated

face.


"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks. . . . It's not r-really important. .

. but he was a very handsome little b-boy . . . always very handsome . . . and

he was g-going to be married!"


"And what do you mean by zat?" said Fleur suddenly and loudly. "What

do you mean, ' he was going to be married?'"


Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking startled. "Well -only

that-"


"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" demanded Fleur.

"You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"


"No, that's not what I -"


"Because 'e will!" said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and

throwing back her long mane of silver hair. "It would take more zan a

werewolf to stop Bill loving me!"


"Well, yes, I'm sure," said Mrs. Weasley, "but I thought perhaps - given

how - how he -"

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?"

said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. "What do I care how he looks? I am good-

looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my

husband is brave! And I shall do zat!" she added fiercely, pushing Mrs.

Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her.


Mrs. Weasley fell back against her husband and watched Fleur mopping

up Bill's wounds with a most curious expression upon her face. Nobody said

anything; Harry did not dare move. Like everybody else, he was waiting for

the explosion.


"Our Great-Auntie Muriel," said Mrs. Weasley after a long pause, "has a

very beautiful tiara - goblin-made - which I am sure I could persuade her to

lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would

look lovely with your hair."


"Thank you," said Fleur stiffly. "I am sure zat will be lovely."


And then, Harry did not quite see how it happened, both , women were

crying and hugging each other. Completely bewildered, wondering whether

the world had gone mad, he turned around: Ron looked as stunned as he felt

and Ginny and Hermione were exchanging startled looks.


"You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. "She still

wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!

"It's different," said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly

tense. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely -"


"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of

Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times. . . ."


And the meaning of Tonks's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the

reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a

rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear

to Harry; it had not been Sinus that Tonks had fallen in love with after all.


"And I've told you a million times," said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes,

staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor . . . too dangerous. . .

."


"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," said

Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back.


"I am not being ridiculous," said Lupin steadily. "Tonks deserves

somebody young and whole."


"But she wants you," said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. "And after all,

Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so."


He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.

"This is... not the moment to discuss it," said Lupin, avoiding everybody's

eyes as he looked around distractedly. "Dumbledore is dead. ..."


"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there

was a little more love in the world," said Professor McGonagall curtly, just

as the hospital doors opened again and Hagrid walked in.


The little of his face that was not obscured by hair or beard was soaking

and swollen; he was shaking with tears, a vast, spotted handkerchief in his

hand.


"I've . . . I've done it, Professor," he choked. "M-moved him. Professor

Sprout's got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick's lyin down, but he says

he'll be all righ' in a jiffy, an' Professor Slughorn says the Ministry's bin

informed."


"Thank you, Hagrid," said Professor McGonagall, standing up at once and

turning to look at the group around Bill's bed. "I shall have to see the

Ministry when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the Heads of Houses -

Slughorn can represent Slytherin - that I want to see them in my office

forthwith. I would like you to join us too."


As Hagrid nodded, turned, and shuffled out of the room again, she looked

down at Harry. "Before I meet them I would like a quick word with you,

Harry. If you'll come with me. ..."

Harry stood up, murmured "See you in a bit" to Ron, Hermione, and

Ginny, and followed Professor McGonagall back down the ward. The

corridors outside were deserted and the only sound was the distant phoenix

song. It was several minutes before Harry became aware that they were not

heading for Professor McGonagall's office, but for Dumbledore's, and

another few seconds before he realized that of course, she had been deputy

headmistress, . . . Apparently she was now headmistress ... so the room

behind the gargoyle was now hers.


In silence they ascended the moving spiral staircase and entered the

circular office. He did not know what he had expected: that the room would

be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore's body might be lying

there. In fact, it looked almost exactly as it had done when he and

Dumbledore had left it mere hours previously: the silver instruments

whirring and puffing on their spindle legged tables, Gryffindor's sword in its

glass case gleaming in the moonlight, the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the

desk, the Fawkes's perch stood empty, he was still crying his lament to the

grounds. And a new portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters

and headmistresses of Hogwarts: Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden

frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacle perched upon his crooked nose,

looking peaceful and untroubled.


After glancing once at this portrait, Professor McGonagall made an odd

movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the' desk to look at

Harry, her face taut and lined.

"Harry," she said, "I would like to know what you and Professor

Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school."


"I can't tell you that, Professor," said Harry. He had expected the question

and had his answer ready. It had been here, in this very room, that

Dumbledore had told him that he was to confide the contents of their lessons

to nobody but Ron and Hermione.


"Harry, it might be important," said Professor McGonagall.


"It is," said Harry, "very, but he didn't want me to tell anyone."


Professor McGonagall glared at him. "Potter" - Harry registered the

renewed use of his surname - "in the light of Professor Dumbledore's death,

I think you must see that the situation has changed somewhat -"


"I don't think so," said Harry, shrugging. "Professor Dumbledore never

told me to stop following his orders if he died." But -


"There's one thing you should know before the Ministry gets here, though.

Madam Rosmerta's under the Imperius Curse, she was helping Malfoy and

the Death Eaters, that's how the necklace and the poisoned mead -"


"Rosmerta?" said Professor McGonagall incredulously, but before she

could go on, there was a knock on the door behind them and Professors

Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn traipsed into the room, followed by Hagrid,

who was still weeping copiously, his huge frame trembling with grief.

"Snape!" ejaculated Slughorn, who looked the most shaken, pale and

sweating. "Snape! I taught him! I thought I knew him!"


But before any of them could respond to this, a sharp voice spoke from

high on the wall: A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe had just

walked back into his empty canvas. "Minerva, the Minister will be here

within seconds, he has just Disapparated from the Ministry."


"Thank you, Everard," said Professor McGonagall, and she turned quickly

to her teachers.


"I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts before he gets here," she

said quickly. "Personally, I am not convinced that the school should reopen

next year. The death of the headmaster at the hands of one of our colleagues

is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts's history. It is horrible."


"I am sure Dumbledore would have wanted the school to remain open,"

said Professor Sprout. "I feel that if a single pupil wants to come, then the

school ought to remain open for that pupil."


"But will we have a single pupil after this?" said Slughorn, now dabbing

his sweating brow with a silken handkerchief. "Parents will want to keep

their children at home and I can't say I blame them. Personally, I don't think

we're in more danger at Hogwarts than we are anywhere else, but you can't

expect mothers to think like that. They'll want to keep their families

together, it's only natural."

"I agree," said Professor McGonagall. "And in any case, it is not true to

say that Dumbledore never envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts might

close. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered the closure of

the school - and I must say that Professor Dumbledore's murder is more

disturbing to me than the idea of Slytherin's monster living undetected in the

bowels of the castle. . . ."


"We must consult the governors," said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky

little voice; he had a large bruise on his forehead but seemed otherwise

unscathed by his collapse in Snape's office. "We must follow the established

procedures. A decision should not be made hastily."


"Hagrid, you haven't said anything," said Professor McGonagall. "What

are your views, ought Hogwarts to remain open?"


Hagrid, who had been weeping silently into his large, spotted

handkerchief throughout this conversation, now raised puffy red eyes and

croaked, "I dunno, Professor . . . that's fer the Heads of House an the

headmistress ter decide ..."


"Professor Dumbledore always valued your views," said Professor

McGonagall kindly, "and so do I."


"Well, I'm stayin," said Hagrid, fat tears still leaking out of the corners of

his eyes and trickling down into his tangled beard. "It's me home, it's bin me

home since I was thirteen. An' if there's kids who wan' me ter teach 'em, I'll

do it. But... I dunno ... Hogwarts without Dumbledore .. ." He gulped and

disappeared behind his handkerchief once more, and there was silence.


"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, glancing out of the window at

the grounds, checking to see whether the Minister was yet approaching,

"then I must agree with Filius that the right thing to do is to consult the

governors, who will make the final decision.


"Now, as to getting students home . . . there is an argument for doing it

sooner rather than later. We could arrange for the Hogwarts Express to come

tomorrow if necessary -"


"What about Dumbledore's funeral?" said Harry, speaking at last.


"Well. . ." said Professor McGonagall, losing a little of her briskness as

her voice shook. "I - I know that it was Dumbledore's wish to be laid to rest

here, at Hogwarts -"


"Then that's what'll happen, isn't it?" said Harry fiercely.


"If the Ministry thinks it appropriate," said Professor McGonagall. "No

other headmaster or headmistress has ever been -"


"No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school,"

growled Hagrid.

"Hogwarts should be Dumbledore's final resting place," said Professor

Flitwick.


"Absolutely," said Professor Sprout.


"And in that case," said Harry, "you shouldn't send the students home

until the jfuneral's over. They'll want to say -"


The last word caught in his throat, but Professor Sprout completed the

sentence for him. "Good-bye."


"Well said," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Well said indeed! Our students

should pay tribute, it is fitting. We can arrange transport home afterward."


"Seconded," barked Professor Sprout. ]


"I suppose ... yes .. ." said Slughorn in a rather agitated voice, while

Hagrid let out a strangled sob of assent.


"He's coming," said Professor McGonagall suddenly, gazing down into

the grounds. "The Minister . . . and by the looks of it. he's brought a

delegation . . ."


"Can I leave, Professor?" said Harry at once.


He had no desire at all to see, or be interrogated by, Rufus Scrimgeour

tonight.

"You may," said Professor McGonagall. "And quickly."


She strode toward the door and held it open for him. He sped down the

spiral staircase and off along the deserted corridor; he-had left his

Invisibility Cloak at the top of the Astronomy Tower, but it did not matter;

there was nobody in the corridors to see him pass, not even Filch, Mrs.

Norris, or Peeves. He did not meet another soul until he turned into the

passage leading to the Gryffindor common room.


"Is it true?" whispered the Fat Lady as he approached her. "It is really

true? Dumbledore - dead?"


"Yes," said Harry.


She let out a wail and, without waiting for the password, swung forward

to admit him.


As Harry had suspected it would be, the common room was jam-packed.

The room fell silent as he climbed through the portrait hole. He saw Dean

and Seamus sitting in a group nearby: This meant that the dormitory must be

empty, or nearly so. Without speaking to anybody, without making eye

contact at all, Harry walked straight across the room and through the door to

the boys' dormitories.

As he had hoped, Ron was waiting for him, still fully dressed, sitting on

his bed. Harry sat down on his own four-poster and for a moment, they

simply stared at each other.


"They're talking about closing the school," said Harry.


"Lupin said they would," said Ron.


There was a pause.


"So?" said Ron in a very low voice, as though he thought the furniture

might be listening in. "Did you find one? Did you get it? A - a Horcrux?"


Harry shook his head. All that had taken place around that black lake

seemed like an old nightmare now; had it really happened, and only hours

ago?


"You didn't get it?" said Ron, looking crestfallen. "It wasn't there?"


"No," said Harry. "Someone had already taken it and left a fake in its

place."


"Already taken - ?"


Wordlessly, Harry pulled the fake locket from his pocket, opened it, and

passed it to Ron. The full story could wait. ... It did not matter tonight. . .

nothing mattered except the end, the end of their pointless adventure, the end

of Dumbledore's life. . . .


"R.A.B.," whispered Ron, "but who was that?"


"Dunno," said Harry, lying back on his bed fully clothed and staring

blankly upwards. He felt no curiosity at all about R.A.B.: He doubted that he

would ever feel curious again. As he lay there, he became aware suddenly

that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing. And he knew,

without knowing how he knew it, that ilie phoenix had gone, had left

Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the

world . . . had left Harry.

Chapter 28: Flight of the Prince


Harry felt as though he too were hurtling through space; it had not

happened. . . . It could not have happened. ...


"Out of here, quickly," said Snape.


He seized Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forced him through the

door ahead of the rest; Greyback and the squat brother and sister followed,

the latter both panting excitedly. As they vanished through the door, Harry

realized he could move again. What was now holding him paralyzed against

the wall was not magic, but horror and shock. He threw the Invisibility

Cloak aside as the brutal-faced Death Eater, last to leave the tower top, was

disappearing through the door.
"Petrificus Totalus!"


The Death Eater buckled as though hit in the back with something solid

and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but he had barely hit the floor

when Harry was clambering over him and running down the darkened

staircase.


Terror tore at Harry;s heart. ... He had to get to Dumbledore and he had to

catch Snape. ... Somehow the two things were linked. ... He could reverse

what had happened if he had them both together. ... Dumbledore could not

have died. ...

He leapt the last ten steps of the spiral staircase and stopped where he

landed, his wand raised. The dimly lit corridor was full of dust; half the

ceiling seemed to have fallen in; and a battle was raging before him, but

even as he attempted to make out who were fighting whom, he heard the

hated voice shout, "It's over, time to go!" and saw Snape disappearing

around the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and Malfoy seemed to

have forced their way through the fight unscathed. As Harry plunged after

them, one of the fighters detached themselves from the fray and flew at him:

it was the werewolf, Fenrir. He was on top of Harry before Harry could raise

his wand: Harry fell backward, with filthy matted hair in his face, the stench

of sweat and blood filling his nose and mouth, hot greedy breath at his throat

-


"Petrificus Totalus!"


Harry felt Fenrir collapse against him; with a stupendous effort he pushed

the werewolf off and onto the floor as a jet of green light came flying toward

him; he ducked and ran, headfirst, into the fight. His feet met something

squashy and slippery on the floor and he stumbled: There were two bodies

lying there, lying facedown in a pool of blood, but there was no time to

investigate. Harry now saw red hair flying like flames in front of him: Ginny

was locked in combat with the lumpy Death Eater, Amycus, who was

throwing hex after hex at her while she dodged them: Amycus was giggling,

enjoying the sport: "Crucio - Crucio - you can't dance forever, pretty-"


"Impedimenta!" yelled Harry.

His jinx hit Amycus in the chest: He gave a piglike squeal of pain, was

lifted off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall, slid down it, and fell

out of sight behind Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin, each of whom

was battling a separate Death Eater. Beyond them, Harry saw Tonks fighting

an enormous blond wizard who was sending curses flying in all directions,

so that they ricocheted off the walls around them, cracking stone, shattering

the nearest window -


"Harry, where did you come from?" Ginny cried, but there was no time to

answer her. He put his head down and sprinted forward, narrowly avoiding a

blast that erupted over his head, showering them all in bits of wall. Snape

must not escape, he must catch up with Snape -


"Take that!" shouted Professor McGonagall, and Harry glimpsed the

female Death Eater, Alecto, sprinting away down the corridor with her arms

over her head, her brother right behind her. He launched himself after them

but his foot caught on something, and next moment he was lying across

someone's legs. Looking around, he saw Neville's pale, round face flat

against the floor. "Neville, are you - ?"


"M'all right," muttered Neville, who was clutching his stomach, "Harry . .

. Snape 'n' Malfoy . . . ran past. . ."


"I know, I'm on it!" said Harry, aiming a hex from the floor at the

enormous blond Death Eater who was causing most of the chaos. The man

gave a howl of pain as the spell hit him in the face: He wheeled around,

staggered, and then pounded away after the brother and sister. Harry

scrambled up from the floor and began to sprint along the corridor, ignoring

the bangs issuing from behind him, the yells of the others to come back, and

the mute call of the figures on the ground whose fate he did not yet know. . .

.


He skidded around the corner, his trainers slippery with blood; Snape had

an immense head start. Was it possible that he had already entered the

cabinet in the Room of Requirement, or had the Order made steps to secure

it, to prevent the Death Eaters retreating that way? He could hear nothing but

his own pounding feet, his own hammering heart as he sprinted along the

next empty corridor, but then spotted a bloody footprint that showed at least

one of the fleeing Death Eaters was heading toward the front doors - perhaps

the Room of Requirement was indeed blocked -


He skidded around another corner and a curse flew past him; he dived

behind a suit of armor that exploded. He saw the brother and sister running

down the marble staircase ahead and aimed jinxes at them, but merely hit

several bewigged witches in a portrait on the landing, who ran screeching

into neighboring paintings. As he leapt the wreckage of armor, Harry heard

more shouts and screams; other people within the castle seemed to have

awoken. . . .


He pelted toward a shortcut, hoping to overtake the brother and sister and

close in on Snape and Malfoy, who must surely have reached the grounds by

now. Remembering to leap the vanishing step halfway down the concealed

staircase, he burst through a tapestry at the bottom and out into a corridor

where a number of bewildered and pajama-clad Hufflepuffs stood.

"Harry! We heard a noise, and someone said something aboui the Dark

Mark -" began Ernie Macmillan.


"Out of the way!" yelled Harry, knocking two boys aside as he sprinted

toward the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase. The oak

front doors had been blasted open, there were smears of blood on the

flagstones, and several terrified students stood huddled against the walls, one

or two still cowering with their arms over their faces. The giant Gryffindor

hourglass had been hit by a curse, and the rubies within were still falling,

with a loud rattle, onto the flagstones below.


Harry flew across the entrance hall and out into the dark grounds: He

could just make out three figures racing across the lawn, heading for the

gates beyond which they could Disapparate - by the looks of them, the huge

blond Death Eater and, some way ahead of him, Snape and Malfoy. ...


The cold night air ripped at Harry's lungs as he tore after them; he saw a

flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted his quarry. He did

not know what it was but continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good

aim with a curse -


Another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and Harry understood:

Hagrid had emerged from his cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters

escaping, and though every breath seemed to shred his lungs and the stitch in

his chest was like fire, Harry sped up as an unbidden voice in his head said:

not Hagrid. . . not Hagrid too . . .

Something caught Harry hard in the small of the back and he fell forward,

his face smacking the ground, blood pouring out of both nostrils: He knew,

even as he rolled over, his wand ready, that the brother and sister he had

overtaken using his shortcut were closing in behind him. . . .


"Impedimenta!" he yelled as he rolled over again, crouching close to the

dark ground, and miraculously his jinx hit one of them, who stumbled and

fell, tripping up the other; Harry leapt to his feet and sprinted on after Snape.


And now he saw the vast outline of Hagrid, illuminated by the light of the

crescent moon revealed suddenly behind clouds; the blond Death Eater was

aiming curse after curse at the gamekeeper; but Hagrids immense strength

and the toughened skin he had inherited from his giantess mother seemed to

be protecting him. Snape and Malfoy, however, were still running; they

would soon be beyond the gates, able to Disapparate -


Harry tore past Hagrid and his opponent, took aim at Snape's back, and

yelled, "Stupefy!"

He missed; the jet of red light soared past Snape's head; Snape shouted,

"Run, Draco!"and turned. Twenty yards apart, he and Harry looked at each

other before raising their wands simultaneously.


"Cruc - "


But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backward off his feet before

he could complete it; Harry rolled over and scrambled back up again as the

huge Death Eater behind him yelled, "Incendio!" Harry heard an explosive

bang and a dancing orange light spilled over all of them: Hagrid's house was

on fire.


"Fang's in there, yer evil - !" Hagrid bellowed.


"Cruc -" yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead

illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again. Harry

could see him sneering.


"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" he shouted over the rushing

of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. "You

haven't got the nerve or the ability -"


"Incarc-"Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy

flick of his arm.


"Fight back!" Harry screamed at him. "Fight back, you cowardly-----"


"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" shouted Snape. "Your father would

never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I

wonder?" "Stupe-"


"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth

shut and your mind closed, Potter!" sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once

more. "Now come!" he shouted at the huge Death Eater behind Harry. "It is

time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up -"

"Impedi -"


But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Harry; he keeled

over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die of this

agony, Snape was going to torture him to death or madness -


"No!" roared Snape's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had

started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting;

somewhere overhead Snape was shouting, "Have you forgotten our orders?

Potter belongs to the Dark Lord - we are to leave him! Go! Go!"


And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as the brother and sister

and the enormous Death Eater obeyed, running toward the gates. Harry

uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not whether he

lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward

Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself -


"Sectum - "


Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry

was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: He

was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of

rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi -


"No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was

soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, ;un\ this time his wand flew

out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape

closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless

as Dumbledore hadl been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming

cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed

Dumbledore.


"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented

them - I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like

your filthy father, would you? I don't think so . . . no"


Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away

into the darkness and out of sight.


"Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and

contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward -"


"DON'T -" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented,

inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog

stuck in the burning house behind them - "CALL ME COWARD!"


And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit

him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground. Spots of

light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to

have gone from his body, then he heard a rush of wings above him and

something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak had flown at Snape, who

staggered backward as the razor-sharp claws slashed at him. As Harry raised

himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming from its last contact

with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could, the enormous

beast flapping behind him and screeching as Harry had never heard him

screech -


Harry struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for his wand, hoping

to give chase again, but even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding

twigs, he knew it would be too late, and sure enough, by the time he had

located his wand, he turned only to see the hippogriff circling the gates.

Snape had managed to Disapparate just beyond the school's boundaries.


"Hagrid," muttered Harry, still dazed, looking around. "HAGRID?"


He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged

from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of

thankfulness, Harry sank to his knees; he was shaking in every limb, his

body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.


"Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry. . .."


Hagrids huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, blocking out the

stars. Harry could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt

Fang's reassuringly warm and alive body quivering beside him.


"I'm all right," panted Harry. "Are you?" "'Course I am . . . take more'n

that ter finish me."

Hagrid put his hands under Harry's arms and raised him up with such

force that Harry's feet momentarily left the ground before Hagrid set him

upright again. He could see blood trickling down Hagrid's cheek from a deep

cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.


"We should put out your house," said Harry, "the charm's 'Aguamenti' ..."


"Knew it was summat like that," mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a

smoldering pink, flowery umbrella and said, "Aguamenti!"


A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Harry raised his wand arm,

which felt like lead, and murmured "Aguamenti" too: Together, he and

Hagrid poured water on the house until the last flame was extinguished.


"S'not too bad," said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the

smoking wreck. "Nothin Dumbledore won' be able to put righ' . . ."


Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the

silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.


"Hagrid ..."


"I was bindin' up a couple o' bowtruckle legs when I heard 'em coming,"

said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. "They'll bin burnt ter

twigs, poor little things. . . ."


"Hagrid . . ."

"But what happened, Harry? I jus' saw them Death Eaters run-nin down

from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin' with 'em? Where's

he gone - was he chasin' them?"


"He . . ." Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke.

"Hagrid, he killed . . ."


"Killed?" said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Harry. "Snape killed?

What're yeh on abou', Harry?"


"Dumbledore," said Harry. "Snape killed .. . Dumbledore."


Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen

completely blank, uncomprehending.


"Dumbledore wha, Harry?"


"He's dead. Snape killed him...."


"Don' say that," said Hagrid roughly. "Snape kill Dumbledore - don' be

stupid, Harry. Wha's made yeh say tha'?"


"I saw it happen." , ,..


"Yeh couldn' have."

"I saw it, Hagrid."


Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but sympathetic,

and Harry knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head,

that he was confused, perhaps by the aftereffects of a jinx. ...


"What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with

them Death Eaters," Hagrid said confidently. "I suppose he's gotta keep his

cover. Look, let's get yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Harry. ..."


Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking

uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon. ... As they

directed their steps back toward the castle, Harry saw that many of its

windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as

people moved from room to room, telling each other that Death Eaters had

got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody must have

been killed. . . .


The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto the

drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were

creeping down the steps, looking around nervously for some sign of the

Death Eaters who had fled into the night. Harry's eyes, however, were fixed

upon the ground at the foot of the tallest tower. He imagined that he could

see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though he was really too

far away to see anything of the sort. Even as he stared wordlessly at the

place where he thought

Dumbledore's body must lie, however, he saw people beginning to move

toward it.


"What're they all lookin' at?" said Hagrid, as he and Harry approached the

castle front, Fang keeping as close as he could to their ankles. "Wha's that

lyin' on the grass?" Hagrid added sharply, heading now toward the foot of

the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was congregating. "See it,

Harry? Right at the foot of the tower? Under where the Mark . . . Blimey . . .

yeh don' think someone got thrown - ?"


Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud.

Harry walked alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his face and his

legs where the various hexes of the last half hour had hit him, though in an

oddly detached way, as though somebody near him was suffering them.

What was real and inescapable was the awful pressing feeling in his chest. . .

.


He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the

very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.


Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he

walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and

crouched down beside him. He had known there was no hope from the

moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him

lifted, known that it could have happened only because its caster was dead,

but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken:

the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.

Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and

legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-

moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from

the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and

tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again

would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help-----


The crowd murmured behind Harry. After what seemed like a long time,

he became aware that he was kneeling upon something hard and looked

down.


The locket they had managed to steal so many hours before had fallen out

of Dumbledore's pocket. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which

it hit the ground. And although he could not feel more shock or horror or

sadness than he felt already, Harry knew, as he picked it up, that there was

something wrong-----


He turned the locket over in his hands. This was neither as large as the

locket he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings

upon it, no sign of the ornate S that was supposed to be Slytherins mark.

Moreover, there was nothing inside but for a scrap of folded parchment

wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should have been.


Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry

pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the

many wands that had now been lit behind him:

To the Dark Lord


I now I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that

it was I who dicovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend

to destroy it as soon as I can.


I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be

mortal once more.


R.A.B.


Harry neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing

mattered: This was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself by

drinking that terrible potion for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in

his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.