It had come with the passing of time for the students of Hogwarts to realize that the famous Harry Potter had died. Professor Dumbledore announced his death on New Years' Day, to everyone's dismay.

Ron and Hermione were distraught. Hermione broke down and wept for days on end; even Ron was so overwrought he cried his eyes out. They found it hard to do their day's work. Ron was extremely behind, and Hermione's marks were falling. Work could just not be done with Harry's presence. Even the thought of knowing that Harry existed would have made all the difference to the Ron and Hermione.

And it wasn't only Ron and Hermione: all the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs could be seen walking along the corridors with handkerchiefs in hand, a few sympathetic Ravenclaws shed their share of tears, and much to everyone's surprise, a few Slytherins couldn't hold back a few tears.

The teachers had a hard time teaching their classes, all except for Snape, whose cold heart seemed always to show. Dumbledore and McGonagall both were the most bereaved teachers. They loved Harry much, as they had known him since he was a wee baby. They had given less and less homework, and the students were let out sooner than usual. Everyone was affected by Harry's extremely unexpected death.

"Ron," Hermione said one evening, while she and Ron were doing homework, "what could've made Harry – die like that? I mean, what could've made him – er – explode?"

"I've no idea," he scratched his chin with his quill as he thought pensively. "It was as if he was possessed or something."

"Yeah, like someone was controlling him?"

"Yeah, like Snape, or . . . ." He stopped in his sentence and his eyes widened with horror.

"Or what?" asked Hermione, apprehending Ron's terrified stare.

"V – v – v – olde – mor – t – t," he stammered, trying not to be too scared saying the name.

"You don't think?"

"How could we tell?" he asked, now starting to quiver slightly.

"I dunno, wha-" she was cut off by McGonagall's voice over the intercom.

"Will all House Prefects lead all students to their Houses immediately!"

"What do you think's happened?" asked Ron.

"I hope it's nothing awful."

The next day, Ron and Hermione went to breakfast to find the entire Hufflepuff table crying most convulsively.

"Oh, no!" Hermione exclaimed, "What's happened?"

Parvati Patil was walking by and said, "Hannah Abbot's killed herself." A tear rolled down her beautifully dark face.

"Oh, my God!" shouted Ron. "Not another death!" He sat down at the Hufflepuff table, and buried his face in his arms and cried shakily. Hermione sat too and put his arm around him. She cried a lot also. When the rest of the students started filing in and the teachers filled the table in front of the Great Hall, not one person ate.

Dumbledore stood, his face solemn and looked as though he had cried for hours, "I've more bad news, my dear, dear friends."

Professor McGonagall was done; she was sobbing horribly with Sprout's arm around her I order to comfort her. Dumbledore continued.

"Hannah Abbot, who should be sitting at the Hufflepuff table, has died." There was a fourth year girl over at the Hufflepuff table who yelled into the air. She sobbed so loudly it was nearly a shout.

"Since there is a danger to you all here, the school must be closed and you all will go home. I'm sorry, what must be done must be done." He sat and seemed to break down internally as he rested his elbows on the table. Tears rolled into his long silver beard. It was terribly moving to see this powerful and influential man cry in front of hundreds of children, and it caused many to hug and cry together.

Later that day, when all were packed to go home, Dumbledore led the pack to the door. He said his farewell goodbye to them all and moved to the great door that led to the Hogwarts Express. He pulled open the door, but it didn't budge. Many students threw their bags to the floor in impatience.

Dumbledore pushed and shoved, even got his wand to blast the door open, but nothing worked to save their lives.

Professor Dumbledore turned to face the students and he gulped, noticeably . . . .