I rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs, I 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 thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted too; I thought that perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast, but Snape's place had been removed altogether.
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 Draco Malfoy between them, bossing them around.
Harry softly nudged me from my thoughts. 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 Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."
We filed out from behind our benches in near silence. I glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long, emerald green robes embroidered with silver. I had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when everyone reached the entrance hall, I 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.
Toward the lake, Professor McGonagall led up to a clearing where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of us: There was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer day.
An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs; shabby and smart, old and young. I didn't recognize most of the people, but I saw 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 supported by Fleur, his fiancé, and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin. 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; 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 I 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.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I 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, I 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.
The event lasted for a few hours, people coming to see Dumbledore's body, lying still on the table. A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. I could not hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of heads. "Nobility of spirit"..."intellectual contribution"... "greatness of heart"... It did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as I had known him.
There was a soft splashing noise to my left and I saw that the merpeople had broken the surface to listen too. I remembered Dumbledore crouching at the water's edge two years ago, very close to where we now sat, and conversing in Mermish with the Merchieftainess.
The severity of the situation finally hit me with a wave of dreadful grief. Dumbledore was dead, gone... I breath got caught in my throat, earning a reassuring grasp from Hermione, who say next to me, teary-eyed, as well. I looked away from Hermione with a sad smile and looked into the forest. There was movement along with trees, large pine trees swaying in the wind... I saw the centaurs approach the forest wall, coming to pay their respects with their heads hung low.
The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. I waited for somebody else to get to their feet; I expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.
Then several people screamed, including me. 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 spiraled into the air and made strange shapes: I thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that I 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.
I looked at Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione: Ron's face was screwed up as though the sunlight were 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. Harry moved Ginny over to the side while I searched for Fred through the crowd.
Meeting his eyes, I took a deep breath and walked over to him. His smile fell when he saw the look on my face; I was never good at hiding my emotions on my face, more or less to him.
"Fred..." I said very quietly, once I reached him. There was a buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet. "I... what do we have?"
"Well I like you and you like me, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?" Fred said, the cheeky smile reappearing on his face.
Taking a deep breath, I shook my head.
"I can't, Fred... I-I can't be with you anymore," I said softly. "We can't be together..."
His smile twisted and he shook his head, "It's for some stupid reason, isn't it? I bet Harry's doing the same thing to Ginny."
I looked over my shoulder to see Harry and Ginny in an animated conversation.
"Fred, I'm being serious," I said, tears in my eyes, "I can't... we can't be together. It's not safe."
The twisted smile on Fred's face fell, his eyes full on concern and confusion.
"Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used Ginny as bait once, and I can't bare to think what he'd do to you! 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. That's why Harry is also... leaving Ginny," I said firmly— well as firmly as I could through tears.
"What if I don't care?" said Fred fiercely.
"I care," I raised my voice. "Fred, I care, too much that is. I- I don't know what I would do if this was your funeral... and it'd be all my fault because I'd be too selfish to let you go! I—"
"I knew you had given me that Valentine's card your second year," Fred admitted. "I recognized your handwriting from the owls you had me send to Ginny and then for the Yule Ball, I was too afraid to ask you and was glad you had asked me..."
"You liked me all that time?" I said softly.
"Of course," he smiled. "My little Mousey... but you've been too busy saving the Wizarding world with Harry to notice that I like you just as much as you like me."
"Fred," I breathed.
"Well," sighed Fred. "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 with Harry. Maybe that's why I like you so much— starting, independent, brave..."
"Fred—"
Before I could say anything, he pulled me into a hard, longing kiss. The last kiss we'd have. I couldn't allow myself to allow him to be in danger. My heart broke at the salty kiss and broke, even more, when he pulled away. With a shaky breath, I turned away from Fred and Dumbledore's tomb, and walked away to Harry, who made his way around the lake.
"Did you break up with Ginny, too?" I croaked.
Harry looked over to me and nodded before embracing me. I cried in his arms knowing he felt the same. Moving felt much more bearable than sitting still, just as setting out as soon as possible to track down the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort with Harry would feel better than waiting to do it...
"Harry! Maisey!"
We turned. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly toward us 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 both?"
"No," said Harry indifferently, and we set off again.
"Harry, Maisey, 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 disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I —"
"What do you want?" I asked flatly, not wanting to deal with the Ministry after all of this.
Scrimgeour looked annoyed, but as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.
"You both are, of course, devastated," he said. "I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you two may have equally been his favorite pupils ever. The bond between the three of you —"
"What do you want?" Harry said, coming to a halt.
Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick, and stared at us, 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 marhs is important to the Ministry," said Harry. "Anyways, 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, "but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone."
"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him," I said, smiling in spite of myself.
"Dear girl, even Dumbledore cannot return from the —"
"I am not saying he can, sir. You wouldn't understand," I snapped. "But we'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. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your services —"
Harry laughed. "Voldemort wants to kill us himself, and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."
"So," said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, "the request I made of you at Christmas —"
"What request?" I seethed. "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 looked at me as if he were considered him for a moment.
"Released Stan Shunpike yet?" Harry said.
Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple color highly reminiscent of Uncle Vernon.
"I see you are —"
"— Dumbledore's man through and through," said Harry. "That's right. Needn't forget Maisey'a title as well."
Scrimgeour glared at us for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. I 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 hurrying toward us, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite direction. Harry turned and walked slowly on as I waited for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which we had sat in happier times.
"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered.
"Same as he wanted at Christmas," shrugged Harry. "Wanted us to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster kids."
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 and I grinned a little, though Hermione's 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?"
"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," said Harry.
"Neither am I," I said.
Ron gaped at us, but Hermione said sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you two do?"
"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."
"I'll go to the Burrow, as I always do, and then... where d'you reckon Harry?"
"I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered. "For Maisey and me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling we need to go there. And I can visit our parents' graves, I'd like that."
"And then what?" said Ron.
"Then we've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes," I said, my eyes flickering from Harry to Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. "That's what he wanted us to do, that's why he told us all about them. If Dumbledore was right— and I'm sure he was— there are still four of them out there. Harry and I've got to find them and destroy them, and then we'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," Harry added, "so much the better for me, so much 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," said Ron.
"What?" Harry and I said.
"Maisey, you live at my house so I'll go with you to Harry's aunt and uncle's house," said Ron. "And then we'll go with you two wherever you're going."
"No—" I said quickly. I had not counted on this, I had excepted them to understand that we were undertaking this most dangerous journey by ourselves.
"Harry, 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 and I 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.
"I can't miss it, I live with you," I chuckled softly.
In spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path I saw stretching ahead for us, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort I knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, I felt my heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.