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 that was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the funeral. She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade, Seamus told Vega, Harry and Ron, for wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore.
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 palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the forest.
Vega watched quietly 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 of Magic himself, was being accommodated within the castle, something that was not quite welcoming to Vega.
Almost diligently, Vega was avoiding contact with any of them; she was sure that, sooner or later, she would be asked again to account for Dumbledore's last excursion from Hogwarts. She had not stuck around in the Hospital Wing for more than a few hours after she had fainted – she did not want to be caught by the Ministry questioning.
It was an issue – there was no way that Vega wanted people to find out that she was feeling this way, that there might be something wrong with her. She insisted that she was okay and only tired, leaving the Hospital Wing before the sun had set.
Vega, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were spending all of their time together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock them; Vega could imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore 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... life normal as always...
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 just 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," Fleur told them 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," Ginny spoke up as she sighed later that evening, as she, Vega, 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," Harry said, trying to assure his girlfriend. "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, I can," Ginny said.
"Fleur can be a bit blunt but she's not entirely a bad person," Vega spoke up, playing with a strand of her hair. "I'm sure we'll all come around to her. I feel like if Bill is happy with her and likewise back, then it is a love that should be appreciated,"
"You have a way with words, don't you?" Ginny asked but the younger female was smiling. Vega just shrugged lightly and gave her a weak smile back.
"Anyone else we know died?" Ron asked Hermione, who was perusing the Evening Prophet. Hermione winced at the forced toughness in his voice.
"No," Hermione told him rather reprovingly, folding up the newspaper. Vega looked toward her. "They're still looking for Snape but no sign..."
"Of course, there isn't," Harry said, who became angry every time 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," Ginny spoke as she yawned. "I haven't been sleeping that well since... well... I could do with some sleep," She kissed Harry (Ron looked away pointedly), waved at the other three, and departed for the girls' dormitories.
The moment the door had closed behind her, Hermione leaned forward toward Vega and Harry with a most Hermione-ish look on her face. Vega looked at her in surprise and wondered if everything was truly okay or if they were just pretending in front of Ginny.
"I found something out this morning, in the library," Hermione told them.
"R.A.B.?" Vega asked.
Vega did not feel the way she had so often felt before – excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; she simply knew that the task of discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed before she could move a little farther along the dark and winding path stretching ahead of her, the path that she, Harry and Dumbledore had set out upon together, and which she now knew she would have to journey along with Harry.
There might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere, and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Voldemort could be killed. And they had to find and work them out if they were to finish Voldemort.
It was a mantra in Vega's head, the names of those Horcruxes – Slytherin's Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, Nagini the Snake, and something of Gryffindor, and of Ravenclaw.
This was something that floated in her head as she fell asleep at night, and her dreams were thick with cups, lockets, and mysterious objects that she could not quite reach, though Dumbledore helpfully offered Vega a rope ladder that turned to snakes the moment she began to climb.
The locket they had discovered was shown to Hermione by Vega the moment she woke up, and although the brunette had not immediately recognised the initials as belonging to someone either, 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," Hermione said sadly as she looked at Vega. "I've been trying, Vega, 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,"
Hermione looked nervous even saying the name again.
"What about him?" Harry asked heavily, slumping back in his chair.
"Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Prince business," Hermione said tentatively and Vega bit her tongue slightly.
"Do you have to rub it in, Hermione?" Harry asked. "How d'you think I feel about that now?"
"No – no – Harry, I didn't mean that!" Hermione replied hastily, looking around to check that they were not being overheard. "It's just that I was right about Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see... she was Snape's mother!"
"I thought she wasn't much of a looker," Ron said but Hermione ignored him.
"I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape," Hermione told them. "And then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth to a –"
"– murderer," spat Harry.
"Well... yes," Hermione said. "So... I was sort of right. Snape must have been proud of being 'half a Prince,' you see? Tobias Snape was a Muggle from what it said in the Prophet,"
"Yeah, that fits," Harry said. "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, Muggle father... ashamed of his parentage, trying to make himself feared using the Dark Arts, gave himself an impressive new name – Lord Voldemort – the Half-Blood Prince – how could Dumbledore have missed –?"
Harry broke off, looking out the window.
"I still don't get why he didn't turn you in for using that book," Ron spoke up. "He must've known where you were getting it all from,"
"He knew," Harry replied bitterly. "He knew when I used Sectumsempra. He didn't really need Legilimency... he might even have known before then, with Slughorn 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?" Ron asked.
"I don't think he wanted to associate himself with that book," Hermione said. "I don't think Dumbledore would have liked it very much if he'd known. And even if Snape pretended it hadn't been his, Slughorn 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',"
"I should've shown the book to Dumbledore," Harry said. "All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was too –"
"'Evil' is a strong word," Hermione said quietly.
"You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!" Harry said.
"I'm trying to say, Harry, that you're putting too much blame on yourself," Hermione said. "I 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," Ron said.
Vega watched the three of them as silence fell between them, each of them lost in their own thought. But Vega was sure that, just like her, they were thinking about the following morning when Dumbledore's body was to be laid to rest at last.
It was still a strange thing to think about for Vega, she had not expected that she would be going to Dumbledore's funeral at this age. In fact, it had been long since she had been at the last funeral, which had been a Muggle one, from Ted's family. She hadn't been very close to that person but she had felt very... congested amongst so many heartbroken people.
On the other hand, Vega wondered if Dumbledore's death would be more real to her once she had attended his funeral. She felt like she could still find him somewhere.
Though Vega had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm her, there were blank stretches of numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was talking about anything else in the whole castle, she still found it difficult to believe that Dumbledore had really gone.
The fake Horcrux sat in her pocket wherever she went, her hands deep in her pockets so she could feel the cold chain of the locket.
That kept Vega in her senses, reminding her constantly who she was, how much it took to get the locket, and what remained still for her to do. Dumbledore was gone, but Vega had to finish this mission, she had to finish it, and avenge those killed.
When Harry, Ron and Hermione had departed off to their beds that evening, Vega left the Gryffindor Common Room to see if she could find something more about Slytherin somewhere. She looked into Myrtle's bathroom but still wondering if there was something that she could find in the Chamber that resembled one of the Horcruxes.
But there was nothing, and with Myrtle bothering her with questions upon questions, Vega decided to leave, travelling through the secret passageways to avoid running into anyone, especially anyone who didn't have any good for her in their hearts.
Fleur was still in the Hospital Wing, and since Bill had gone to sleep from all the potions, Vega agreed to hang out with her until she finished having her dinner.
"You should eat dinner on time," Vega told her, speaking in her rusty French. "I feel like... it might worry Bill, and I'm sure he'll like to see you eating with him,"
"Bill said something like that, too," Fleur said, and she gave her tinkling laughter but Vega felt like she was a bit concerned underneath all that.
"I'm really sorry that things came down to this, Fleur," Vega spoke up, choosing her words and tone carefully. "It is hard to see someone you love so much to be hurt even a little... and none of us blame you if you're having a hard time. If you're not comfortable sharing with others yet, I want you to know that I'm here to listen and understand your troubles,"
For a few moments, Fleur was quiet, looking down at her empty dishes, and then said, "Thank you," Vega smiled at her softly, reaching out to pat her shoulder.
The two females were distracted when the door to the Hospital Wing was opened, and for a moment, Vega thought that it was Madam Pomfrey but –
"Fred?" Vega asked, shooting to her feet when she saw the male step into the ward, holding onto a bag in his hands, clearly sent by Mrs. Weasley.
Vega continued to stare at her boyfriend, trying to hold back all the emotions surging in her chest at once and when he reached her with his arms, she held herself from collapsing into them. She wrapped her arms around his waist tightly, her head in his shoulder.
"Mum sent this change of clothes for you, Fleur," Fred told the girl, handing over the bag that Fleur took. "Vega..." He looked down at her. "How are you, love?"
"I'm okay," Vega whispered, clutching on his jacket. "I didn't know you were coming..."
"Please talk freely," Fleur said as she picked up her empty tray, heading off to drop it off by Madam Pomfrey, leaving the two to talk.
Fred waited until Fleur had left before reaching Vega's lips to give her a kiss before wrapping his arms tighter around her shoulders. Vega could feel the tension in his body, and she rubbed his back, knowing that he must be more stressed than her.
"Mum told me all about Bill... but I wanted to come visit," Fred told her and Vega nodded assuredly.
"You can see him if you want to," Vega told him. "He's behind the curtains, he's been bandaged up... we were all here earlier and he was joking as always, you know,"
Vega held onto his hand to show him around to Bill's bed, stroking her boyfriend's hand with her thumb to comfort him as he looked over at his eldest brother.
It was quiet between them for a few moments.
"He's going to be the same as always, huh?" Fred asked, and Vega knew he was trying to keep it normal as well. "Mum said there wouldn't be too much... different about him,"
"She's right," Vega confirmed, rubbing his back. "But he does have a liking for some extra rare steak now. Good thing is that Fleur's really good at making those,"
"Yeah..." Fred agreed, moving back to sit on an open bed. "To be fair, we both know that Fleur wouldn't make him move an inch in discomfort while she's around here,"
"You're right," Vega replied, giving him a gentle smile. "Are you okay, love?"
"I'm fine," Fred said and allowed Vega to hug his head against her stomach. "Now that I've seen him... and you... I think I can sleep easy, too,"
"I'm sorry for worrying you," Vega told him, stroking his hair lightly. "I'm sorry... it's all been very hard, and... let's hope for the better from here on out,"
Clutching back her tears, Vega moved down to give him a kiss, "I love you, let's be safe,"
Vega woke up extra early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral but Vega did not leave her dormitory until Hermione, Fay and Lavender had left. When she arrived downstairs, she found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry.
Professor McGonagall had left the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted too; Vega thought that perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast, but Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour.
Scrimgeour's yellowish eyes were scanning the Great Hall, having the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimgeour was looking for her and Harry, Vega avoided catching attention.
Among Scrimgeour's entourage Vega 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 when Vega sat down with him, Harry and Hermione.
Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malfoy between them, bossing them around as he had done the past six years.
Vega had not spared Malfoy much thought out of her days.
The animosity was all for Snape, but she 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. She did not believe that Malfoy would have killed Dumbledore.
Rather than 'would', it was a 'could'.
It wasn't that Vega was filled with hate for people but she did not like where Malfoy had ended up, and she could only pity him in her dislike. She wondered, however, where he was right now and what else Voldemort had planned for him under his threats of murder.
Noticing movement, Vega was pulled out of her thoughts and she looked up ahead to see that Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet, and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once. Vega remained quiet as she had been before.
"It is nearly time," Professor McGonagall spoke up. "Please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me,"
Everyone filed out from behind their benches in near silence.
Vega glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long, emerald green robes embroidered with silver. She 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 reeking of mothballs.
They were heading, as Vega saw when she stepped out onto the stone steps from the front doors, toward the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed her 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 Vega did not recognise, but there were several others that she did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix:
Kingsley Shacklebolt; Mad-Eye Moody; Dora, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink; Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George.
Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two and a half chairs on her own; Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron in London; Arabella Figg, Harry's Squib neighbour; the hairy bass player from the Wizarding group the Weird Sisters; Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus; Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley; and some people whom Vega 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 on the gleaming air.
Vega, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. When he noticed his girlfriend in attendance, Fred moved through the crowd toward them, and Vega looked up at him as he took her hand tightly, sitting with her.
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, Vega saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna.
Neville and Luna alone of the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died, and Vega knew why: They were the ones who had missed the D.A. most... probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting.
Fred gently squeezed Vega's hand and locked his fingers with her, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder. Vega did the same to his hand, trying to assure him, still, that she was alright and she hoped she wouldn't get emotional and upset him further.
Vega chewed lightly on her lips, feeling like Fred's scent might lull her to sleep in the warmth of the sun but her body was tense as she watched people arrive.
Cornelius Fudge walked past toward the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual; Vega next recognised Rita Skeeter, who – she was infuriated to see – had a notebook clutched in her red-taloned hand, and then, with a worse jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toad-like 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, Umbridge gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away. The staff was seated at last. Vega could see Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall although she could care else.
And Vega wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead. But then she heard music, strange, otherworldly music, and she forgot her dislike of the Ministry in looking around for the source of it. She was not the only one: Many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.
"The Great Lake," Fred told her quietly and Vega followed his gaze to look in the direction of the Great Lake where the sound seemed to be originating.
And Vega saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, reminding her horribly of the Inferi: a chorus of merpeople singing in their Scottish Mermish, something that she had not understood at all, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them.
The music made the hair on Vega's neck stand up, and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As she looked down into the wild faces of the singers, she had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing.
On the other side, 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 Vega knew to be Dumbledore's body.
A sharp pain rose in Vega's heart 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. Vega felt her tears descend and she pressed closer against Fred.
Fred wrapped his arm around her, his expression uncharacteristically solemn. Harry was frozen. Ron looked white and shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast into both Ginny's and Hermione's laps. But Vega knew what was going through their heads.
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