"What will you say to them, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, her own
grief set aside out of concern for the students, Gryffindor house in
particular. However, the 'them' she was referring to consisted of just two
students, who had been Harry Potter's best friends.
"The truth, Minerva. It would be impossible for me to hide it from them; nor should I try."
"Are we entirely sure? Perhaps the boy is lost, or in hiding. Perhaps he has no memory?" McGonagall suggested hopefully.
Dumbledore leant forward in his chair, his face grim. "You know as well as I that, if he were living, he would have been found. It is not a pleasant reality, Minerva, but one we must face."
McGonagall nodded, swallowing dryly. "I'll call for Weasley and Granger. They should here the news before word spreads amongst the students. I dare say it won't be kept quiet for long."
Just as she left Dumbledore's chambers, an enormous, heavily bearded man entered. Even through his great bush of hair, though, it was easy to see the telltale redness of his face. A look not suited to a man of his stature, but those that knew him were all too aware of the half-giant's raw emotions.
"It's true, in'eh?" Hagrid asked, his eyes wet. When Dumbledore didn't respond right away, his let out a great, heaving sob. "It is, you ain' sayin' nothin', you'da said something if it weren'."
"I only wish I could tell you otherwise, my friend. But yes. It is true."
At this, Hagrid sank into a chair, his weight causing it to buckle. His sat for a few minutes, murmuring to himself through his tears. "No, no, he's jus' a boy.it ain' righ'.who di' it.tha's wha' I wanna know."
"Now is not the time for such thoughts, Hagrid," Dumbledore said slowly, a note of caution in his voice. "Now is the time for grief, and above all else, we must support the children."
"Why support the children? What's going on?" Ron demanded, almost running to Hagrid's side.
Hermione, who had followed closely behind him, was equally alarmed. Though hers was more substantiated, as she'd known something terrible had happened the instant McGonagall had called for them. Ron had taken the opposing view, chiding Hermione for anticipating the worst, saying that Harry may simply have gotten himself into a bit of trouble for using magic out of school again.
Taking a deep breath, she flatly asked, "It's Harry, isn't it? Something's happened to Harry."
Dumbledore eyed her sadly for a moment; only Hagrid's weeping cut the silence. "Please sit down, both of you," he softly requested.
"I'd rather stand, thanks," Ron said, a clearly audible quiver in his voice. "What's happened?"
"The Dursley home was attacked two days ago. Nothing of it remains. All that was found at the site were these," he said gently, indicating the glasses on his desk. He stopped for a moment, watching as the information began to sink heavily into the 17-year-olds. "Harry is dead."
While he knew he had been very blunt, he also knew he had to be in order for them to accept the truth of the words. The color had drained from their faces, both of them panting slightly. Hagrid's continued and now stronger sobbing did not help the situation.
Hermione, finding her voice, looked desperately to Dumbledore. "How do we know? We can't just assume that he's -- " she started, her voice catching before she said 'dead'.
"Hermione, I'm asking you to trust me. I know for reasons I cannot explain; though I wish I could. Please. Do not hold false hope. Harry is gone," Dumbledore finished, the finality in his voice becoming too much. Before anyone could make a move, Ron bolted from the room, Hermione running after him down the eerily quiet hallways of Hogwart's castle.
* * *
"Such a sad time it is," Lucius Malfoy smirked. "What a terrible waste. So young."
He gazed out at the hooded men who stood with their heads bowed before him, promptly breaking into a wide smile.
"Such an awful shame, his death. Don't you think so, Potter?"
"The truth, Minerva. It would be impossible for me to hide it from them; nor should I try."
"Are we entirely sure? Perhaps the boy is lost, or in hiding. Perhaps he has no memory?" McGonagall suggested hopefully.
Dumbledore leant forward in his chair, his face grim. "You know as well as I that, if he were living, he would have been found. It is not a pleasant reality, Minerva, but one we must face."
McGonagall nodded, swallowing dryly. "I'll call for Weasley and Granger. They should here the news before word spreads amongst the students. I dare say it won't be kept quiet for long."
Just as she left Dumbledore's chambers, an enormous, heavily bearded man entered. Even through his great bush of hair, though, it was easy to see the telltale redness of his face. A look not suited to a man of his stature, but those that knew him were all too aware of the half-giant's raw emotions.
"It's true, in'eh?" Hagrid asked, his eyes wet. When Dumbledore didn't respond right away, his let out a great, heaving sob. "It is, you ain' sayin' nothin', you'da said something if it weren'."
"I only wish I could tell you otherwise, my friend. But yes. It is true."
At this, Hagrid sank into a chair, his weight causing it to buckle. His sat for a few minutes, murmuring to himself through his tears. "No, no, he's jus' a boy.it ain' righ'.who di' it.tha's wha' I wanna know."
"Now is not the time for such thoughts, Hagrid," Dumbledore said slowly, a note of caution in his voice. "Now is the time for grief, and above all else, we must support the children."
"Why support the children? What's going on?" Ron demanded, almost running to Hagrid's side.
Hermione, who had followed closely behind him, was equally alarmed. Though hers was more substantiated, as she'd known something terrible had happened the instant McGonagall had called for them. Ron had taken the opposing view, chiding Hermione for anticipating the worst, saying that Harry may simply have gotten himself into a bit of trouble for using magic out of school again.
Taking a deep breath, she flatly asked, "It's Harry, isn't it? Something's happened to Harry."
Dumbledore eyed her sadly for a moment; only Hagrid's weeping cut the silence. "Please sit down, both of you," he softly requested.
"I'd rather stand, thanks," Ron said, a clearly audible quiver in his voice. "What's happened?"
"The Dursley home was attacked two days ago. Nothing of it remains. All that was found at the site were these," he said gently, indicating the glasses on his desk. He stopped for a moment, watching as the information began to sink heavily into the 17-year-olds. "Harry is dead."
While he knew he had been very blunt, he also knew he had to be in order for them to accept the truth of the words. The color had drained from their faces, both of them panting slightly. Hagrid's continued and now stronger sobbing did not help the situation.
Hermione, finding her voice, looked desperately to Dumbledore. "How do we know? We can't just assume that he's -- " she started, her voice catching before she said 'dead'.
"Hermione, I'm asking you to trust me. I know for reasons I cannot explain; though I wish I could. Please. Do not hold false hope. Harry is gone," Dumbledore finished, the finality in his voice becoming too much. Before anyone could make a move, Ron bolted from the room, Hermione running after him down the eerily quiet hallways of Hogwart's castle.
* * *
"Such a sad time it is," Lucius Malfoy smirked. "What a terrible waste. So young."
He gazed out at the hooded men who stood with their heads bowed before him, promptly breaking into a wide smile.
"Such an awful shame, his death. Don't you think so, Potter?"