The students filed somberly into the dining hall. Several seats remained conspicuously empty at their first meal outside of the common rooms since Halloween.
Albus Dumbledore caught the mood of the group instantly, and he worried. He felt the expected sorrow and mourned the loss of innocence in so many children. What he should have felt, and did not, was the accompanying rage. He felt it in some – Harry Potter and his friends, the remaining Weasleys, even Draco Malfoy, whose friends Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had been among the casualties. But most seemed numb with horror.
Dumbledore rose to his feet. There was no need to motion for quiet.
"It has been, perhaps, the longest three days in the history of Hogwarts," he intoned. "We are much poorer now, for the loss of fifteen of our friends. Others, as you know, lie in a most terrible state in the infirmary. We can not change this. We can not reverse this. It is done, and now it is the past. We can only help those who still need it, and mourn those who do not."
"Those who did this will return. I say this not to frighten you, but to make you understand. I know you have all heard the rumors. If Hogwarts were to close, if it were to remain, they will still be out there. Waiting. Watching. They will return for all of us, wherever we might be, until no one is left to oppose them."
"We must be ever wary. For when they return, it will be incumbent upon all of us to stand and fight them. If you can not muster the strength to do so on your own behalf, I ask that you remember our fallen friends, and do so on theirs." The elderly wizard returned to his chair, remembering his similar speech following the Tri-Wizard Tournament the year before. For a brief moment, he felt every bit the tired old man. The fleeting sensation passed, though, and he switched to more urgent worries.
Only two patients remained in the infirmary. Everyone else had been either healed or lost. Madam Pomfrey, after 72 straight hours on her feet, retired to her quarters for a brief rest. In her absence, visitors piled in.
The Weasleys, an army in their own right, besieged Ron's bed. He had been awake on and off for a day; the lightning left him badly burned on his back and left shoulder. There would be scarring, but Madam Pomfrey believed he would recover quickly. His mother sat on the side of his bed and stroked his hair as her husband and sons quietly conversed. Ginny, exhausted from maintaining a constant vigil, slept in the next bed.
Seeing Ron in that condition left Hermione hysterical each time they brought her in. She spent much of the week partially sedated in the Gryffindor common room.
Willow remained with Grey the entire time. The cuts and burns, some nasty but most superficial, would require several more days to heal properly, even with magical care. Madam Pomfrey had mended his skull, but he struggled with wooziness from the nasty concussion. After passing out when Jess ran from the hall, he had come awake on the second day. He had barely made a sound since then.
"So I guess it's down to us," Harry said to Giles and Spike in the corner of the room. He was referring to the rapid fall of what Giles had come to think of as his Hogwarts team of Scoobies. "Are they really going to close Hogwarts?"
"The Board of Governors is considering suspending school operations, yes," Giles responded honestly.
"We can't let them."
"I do not know how we might stop them, Harry. I seriously doubt we could prevent another attack. And with the string of attacks occurring simultaneously as they did, the Ministry lacks the resources to shore up our defenses."
"Don't you see? That's what Voldemort wants. If we close Hogwarts, no one will be training young wizards. No one will have the knowledge or power to stand against him five years from now. Or ten years from now."
"Even if that is the case, and frankly I rather agree it is, the Ministry seems to feel that the safety of students takes precedence."
"When their actions makes them less safe later?" Harry was outraged. Giles gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder.
"It's called politics, young man, and there's nothing we can do about it."
"We need backup, Rupert," Spike said. Had he been alive, he would have been dying for a cigarette. The infirmary had strict rules, and he had been there for days. "What about the Slayer?"
"We can not remove her from Sunnydale, Spike. Besides that, I doubt she would be much help against our current foe."
"What about the other witch?"
"Other witch?" Harry asked. Giles eyed Spike carefully.
"She will not come."
"Why the bloody hell not?!?" The vampire roared. Except for Willow, all heads turned to look at them. Giles shook his head and waved the onlookers away. He pulled Spike into the hall; Harry followed.
"She will not come because she fears destabilizing Willow's training," he whispered harshly. Giles looked at Harry, realizing the boy had no idea what was being discussed. "Willow's ex … girlfriend is a powerful witch named Tara." Harry's eyes bugged. Willow was gay? "She specializes in defensive and healing magic. I invited her here as a safeguard against another outburst such as the one at Harry's house. Buffy and Dawn prevailed upon her, but she steadfastly refused." Spike pondered that.
"This is different. We know the training has held. You didn't see her in there, Rupert. When the Jedi began dancin' with that cupcake, Willow almost lost it. But she didn't. She held it in. Then she held it in and didn't fry the cupcake when Grey let her go."
"I'm not sure how we can communicate that to Tara."
"We let the Jedi tell her, if he ever talks again."