Harry bolted down the corridor to the stairs, trying to figure out which teacher could be nearest. Behind him the hallway echoed with shouts and sizzling sounds. He burst into McGonagall's office and blurted out, "It's Voldemort! He's attacking the Headmaster!"

McGonagall stood up instantly. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "Already?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" shouted Harry incredulously. "Aren't you going to help him?"

"Not until you're safe," McGonagall replied grimly, thrusting her wand toward the fireplace. Flames burst up from the cold cinders. "When I cast the Floo powder, say 'Hagrid's hut' and step in!"

"But, but…" protested Harry, as she rummaged in a jar on the mantelpiece.

"Do it!" She threw a handful of powder on the flames and shoved him into the fireplace. There was only one thing to do. "Hagrid's hut!" he shouted.

A moment later, coughing from the ashes, Harry tumbled out of Hagrid's fireplace onto the tiled hearth. He lurched to the door and looked toward the castle. Smoke belched forth from a window high in the north tower. As he watched, two figures on broomsticks launched themselves outward and sailed away. A last hammer blow of pain pounded him down and he fell unconscious onto the flagstones.

Harry awoke slowly, dizzily, in a place where the lights were too bright. From the odor, and the curtains around him, he knew he must be in the infirmary. The side of his head ached. He reached up and felt thick bandages covering a bump the size of an egg. The curtain around his bed was pulled aside and Madam Pomfrey marched in, her face grim. "Good, you're awake. Hagrid brought you up half an hour ago. You had a bad knock on the head, but nothing else serious. Lie back now while I check your eyes."

Suddenly Harry remembered. "Never mind me, what about Dumbledore?" he demanded. Pomfrey's face crumpled, and she shook her head slowly. She opened her mouth, but a long moment passed before she could find words.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, " she said in a trembling voice. Her hands flew up to her face, then she choked back a sob and fled through the curtains. It was the worst possible news.

"Oh no, oh no," Harry moaned. He struggled to sit up but the dizziness caught him again and he collapsed back onto the cot, his stomach heaving. Then the tears came, and that was worse. How could Dumbledore be dead? It was as if a huge chunk of himself had been ripped out and burned. He felt as if he would never be whole again. Silent and shaking, he wept until his eyes went dry, but no amount of pain or tears could fill up the emptiness inside him. It went on and on until it threatened to swallow him up. There was no way out, none. Dumbledore was never coming back.

At last, wrung out with weeping, Harry opened his eyes and looked around. His glasses were on the side table with a jug of water. He fumbled for them and managed to get them on without the dizziness overcoming him. The huddled shape two beds away resolved into a small-boned boy with pale hair.

"Malfoy?" he whispered, and when there was no response, "Draco?" The boy turned and heaved himself up on an elbow. Harry thought he might have been crying. "Draco – what happened?"

Malfoy looked at him numbly. One side of his face was bandaged, and his arms were full of sticking plasters. "Dumbledore's dead. It was Voldemort." He turned his head away.

"Well, how come you're alive then?" Harry asked, too drained to feel anything but puzzled.

"He heaved me out the window with his wand, that's when they got him. It was like a bomb or something, I don't know – it all happened too fast."

Pomfrey appeared behind Malfoy with a tray of bandages and pushed him back onto the bed. "Lie down, now. The bandage on your head is coming loose." She drew the curtain around the bed. As if on cue, Ron and Hermione appeared at the door and tiptoed over to Harry's bed. Harry clasped their hands and looked from one to the other, unable to think of anything to say. Finally Hermione broke the silence.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry looked from one worn face to the other. "I've been better. How are you?"

Ron squeezed his shoulder. "We were really worried about you."

"I'm ok. I can't believe he's gone."

Hermione shook her head. "No one can. Oh, Harry, everyone is crying, all over the school." Her eyes filled with tears.

"How did you find out?"

"Professor McGonagall called us all into the great hall," said Hermione. "Someone was saying there had been an explosion by the Headmaster's office. We'd heard you'd been sent there after the fight, so I asked Professor Sinistra 'Is Harry all right?' He said, very quietly, 'Yes, Hermione, your friend is safe'. I was so pleased I didn't realize what Professor McGonagall was saying for a minute. She just stood up and announced that she had some very bad news. She said that Dumbledore was dead...because Voldemort had attacked him. I think she had to stop for a minute because she was so upset. Then she said you and Draco had been nearby but escaped with only a few scratches and bruises. Hagrid called out that he saw two people in robes flying away from the castle on broomsticks."

Harry nodded. "I saw them too. One of them was Voldemort."

"How did you know?" asked Ron.

"Whenever I see him, my scar starts to ache."

"Then Fudge came rushing in and started going 'What am I going to do? What am I going to do without him?'" said Ron bitterly. "Thinking about himself like Dad says he always does. But Professor McGonagall said this was no time for speeches. We stood quiet for a minute and then she dismissed us."

Hermione continued. "A group of us walked over to the Headmaster's office window to see what we could. Ginny is the lightest of us all, so we levitated her high enough to have a look. She said, oh, Harry, that the inside of the office was scorched and all the papers on Dumbledore's desk were burnt up, and there was broken glass and something like licorice string all over the floor. Fawkes was still in his cage. He called to her."

"Too bad he doesn't talk," said Ron. "He could tell us exactly what happened."

"You weren't inside the office when ...?" asked Hermione.

"No, but Malfoy was," answered Harry. "I remember sitting outside. Snape had just left." The scar on his forehead was still pulsing faintly and he suddenly remembered that it had started to bother him well before the dreadful cries from Dumbledore's office had rung out. But why?

Aloud he said: "Dumbledore told me to get help, but I didn't, did I?"

"It was Voldemort, Harry!" said Hermione. "What could you have done?"

The curtains were flung open and Poppy Pomfrey entered with a tray bearing a tall glass and a bottle. "You two have been here long enough. Your friend's been through a lot today. You can come back in the morning if he's feeling better." She turned to Harry and handed him the glass. "This is a sleeping draught, and I am going to watch you drink it," she said as she filled the glass with a clear liquid from the bottle.

Harry thought fast. He could not sleep now. There might be the chance to find something out from Malfoy, to do something to help Dumbledore after death if he had not helped him before. "If you're going to make me sleep, I'd better use the bathroom first", he said, setting the glass down.

Pomfrey shook her head firmly. "You're not going anywhere, Potter. I'll get you a bedpan."

"Help me get rid of it!" hissed Harry as soon as she stepped out.

With a quick look around Ron grabbed the potion. Lifting the collar of his robe outward, he poured the entire contents of the glass over his shirt underneath. "Freezing!" he mouthed, shivering.

"Lucky it doesn't smell," Hermione pointed out, refilling the glass from the pitcher beside the bed. She gave Harry a hug. "Good luck!"

"See you in the morning," said Ron, catching his hand, and padded out.

Pomfrey returned a minute later with a collection jug. She handed it to Harry without a word and turned her back while he filled it. When he was done, he obediently drained the glass under her watchful stare, then lay down as she arranged another blanket over him. He had a lot of thinking to do.