Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five - The White Tomb
All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass were gone before breakfast the morning following Dumbledore's death. Crabbe vanished soon after, whether escorted from campus by his mother, or fleeing of his own accord, Harry could not guess, nor did he care much. If Mrs. Zabini had her way, Harry might have been among those students spirited away from the school, but Remus had taken his side and insisted they remain for Dumbledore's funeral.
They had a difficult time finding a room in Hogsmeade. Witches and wizards from all over the world were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore. Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky the afternoon before the funeral, landing on the edge of the forest. Harry had watched from the school as a tall, handsome woman descended from the carriage and threw herself into Hagrid's waiting arms. Meanwhile, a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister of Magic himself, had been given accommodation within the castle.
Harry knew that Scrimgeour desired another interview, but Harry was quite adept at avoiding him. He spent every waking moment with Blaise or Millie, usually both as they took refuge in his dormitory. On those rare occasions when he could be coaxed into the Great Hall, he was careful to travel underneath his invisibility cloak, which had been considerately retrieved and returned to him by Hagrid.
Harry should have found the presence of his best friends comforting, but they kept mentioning Snape. While Harry's guilty conscience continued to eat at him, he was distressed to find that it was not Snape's alleged betrayal of Dumbledore they found so shocking, but rather his deceit toward Harry.
"It's hard to believe he was lying the entire time," he heard Draco whisper to Blaise while trying and failing to get some much-needed sleep. "I mean, Harry was his favorite. At least, I thought so…"
Harry considered telling them the truth, regardless of his promise to Snape. But he knew that Blaise would never keep such an important secret from his mother, and she was bound to tell Remus, then the rest of the Order…
No, this is exactly what Snape had warned him about. Harry had to be a symbol for good, now that Dumbledore was gone. And so he kept his silence, and changed the topic of conversation to the remaining horcruxes whenever he could.
"There are still three left to find," Harry recited while visiting Hermione in the hospital wing. Neville had been discharged along with Nell, but Hermione had a few minor injuries Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep a close eye on. Only she and Bill remained under the matron's care. Harry cast a careful eye toward the far end of the room, assuring himself that Bill's attention was engaged by Tonks before he continued, "The snake is most likely one of them. Then there's Hufflepuff's cup, and something belonging to Ravenclaw…"
"Or Gryffindor," Millie reminded him.
Harry nodded his head in agreement, though he presently added, "I don't think that's as likely, though. There aren't many artifacts from the founders, and the only known relics of Gryffindor's are…"
"The sword and the Sorting Hat," Hermione concluded with a thoughtful nod. "I agree with Harry. Gryffindor seems unlikely. But that still leaves Ravenclaw, and I haven't even heard of an item that could be related to her…"
"What about Ravenclaw's lost diadem?" Luna asked.
Hermione looked startled, as though she had forgotten Luna was there. She had arrived with Nell, for the same purpose of paying Hermione a visit, though she had remained mostly silent during this conversation.
Nell shook her head and answered, "That's just a legend, Luna…"
"It isn't," Luna insisted, "The diadem was real, and it was said to enhance the wisdom of whoever wore it."
Nell and Hermione did not look convinced, but Harry thought the idea sounded promising. Voldemort was attracted to anything said to bear immense power, particularly if it belonged to a Hogwarts founder.
"And where is this diadem now?" he asked, turning toward Luna.
Luna looked rather gratified by his interest, though the next moment she looked a bit crestfallen, "Nobody knows. It's lost, after all…"
While Nell, Hermione, and Luna continued to discuss possible hiding places for the missing horcruxes, Harry turned his attention to Blaise. He was leaning against one of the window sills, gazing out on the grounds.
Harry felt rather guilty. The weather had been bright, warm, and beautiful, and yet Blaise was spending so much time with Harry, sequestered in their dormitory beneath the school. Harry joined him by the window, determined to suggest that they all spend some time out of doors once Hermione was released from the hospital wing.
But Blaise's attention was attracted to two figures, walking arm-in-arm across the school grounds toward Hagrid's cabin. Harry recognized, even from a distance, Remus's familiar stride and Mrs. Zabini's colorful, stylish robes. Not a day had passed that they didn't make a similar trip back to the school grounds, whether to check on Harry, monitor Bill's recovery, or visit other members of the Order.
"Mum says he's doing much better," Blaise advised Harry in a low voice. "Ever since he got back from his work with the werewolves… But he took Dumbledore's death harder than most, I think because of Snape…"
"What do you think?" Harry interrupted, unwilling to have Snape's actions discussed with him again. He inclined his head toward Remus and Mrs. Zabini while adding, "About the two of them, I mean?"
Blaise shrugged, "I like Remus better than I did most of my other stepfathers, but what about you?"
Harry reflected for a moment, then replied, "It's already been a year. He can't mourn forever. And anyway, Sirius would want him to be happy."
Blaise gave a nod of agreement, and for a moment they watched in companionable silence as the two figures disappeared into Hagrid's cabin.
His own future was so uncertain, but Harry liked the idea of Remus and Mrs. Zabini being together. Whatever might happen to Harry, he could be sure that Remus would be cared for by the Zabinis.
"You know," said Harry with a sudden thought, "If they do get married, then you and I… We'd sort of be like brothers, in a way."
Blaise looked at Harry with genuine bewilderment as he bumped his shoulder against Harry's. "What are you talking about? You are my brother."
For the first time since Dumbledore's death, Harry smiled.
Harry rose early to pack the next day. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral, and Mrs Zabini planned to transport them all by private car after the rest of the students departed. In the Great Hall, the mood was subdued. Professor McGonagall had left the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted, too. Harry assumed he had been unable to face breakfast. Meanwhile, Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry avoided his eyes as they scanned the Great Hall. He turned away, wondering, not for the first time, if Snape had made it safely to Grimmauld Place, and whether he was even now holed up in one of the rooms of Sirius's old home, unable to communicate with Harry or send him any news.
His thoughts were interrupted by a nudge from Millie. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet, and the mournful hum of the Hall died away at once.
"It is nearly time," she said with somber gravity, "Please follow your Heads of Houses out onto the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."
They filed from their benches in near silence. Harry and the rest of the Slytherins trailed behind Professor Slughorn, who was wearing magnificent emerald green robes embroidered with silver. They headed en masse, students, teachers and staff members alike, toward the Black Lake. Hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows before a large marble table.
An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs. Most Harry did not recognize, but there were a few familiar faces in the crowd. There were the Members of the Order of the Phoenix, of course, including Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks, who was leading a newly-discharged Bill Weasley on her arm. Mrs. Weasley was not far behind, escorted by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin. Much to Harry's consternation, Rita Skeeter appeared among the crowd, a scroll of parchment in her hand and an acid green quill resting against the tip of her tongue. She was not the only member of the press present for the proceedings. As Harry turned away from her in disgust, he noticed a man wearing an old, patched cloak, taking furious notes in a leatherbound journal. His hood was up, despite the fine weather, and Harry could just make out the edge of a full, blond beard.
The stranger was hardly enough to capture Harry's attention, however. There were a great many guests of much more notoriety to observe. Cornelius Fudge walked past the front rows, his expression miserable. Much to Harry's fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief on her toad-like face, stalked behind him. At the sight of Firenze, who was standing near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away. Harry felt a sense of vicious satisfaction as he turned to observe the rest of the crowd, and was again shocked to see the faces of Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle.
It was easy to recognize them, for they hadn't aged a day. Harry had assumed that after destroying the Philosopher's Stone, Flamel and his wife had quietly passed away. He realized now how foolish he had been. Dumbledore himself had stated at the time that Flamel had enough elixir to get his affairs in order, and it did not follow that he would age any faster than the average man once that elixir ran dry. Now Harry could reflect with a sort of bitter irony that though Dumbledore had been the one to convince Flamel to destroy the Stone, Flamel had still managed to outlive him.
While the staff took their seats in the front rows, Harry spotted Scrimgeour, seated beside Professor McGonagall. He wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead. Then he heard music, different from that of the phoenix song, but no less strange and otherworldly. Forgetting for a moment his dislike of the Ministry, he turned his head, seeking the source of the haunting melody.
"There," said Blaise, pointing toward the green, sunlit water.
Inches below the surface, a chorus of merpeople sang in a strange language Harry did not understand. Their faces rippled beneath the surface of the water, their hair flowing all around them. The music made Harry's hair stand on end, but it was not unpleasant. It spoke of loss and despair and was in harmony with Harry's own feelings.
The quiet conversations of the other guests were silenced as Hagrid began to walk slowly up the aisle between the rows of chairs. He was crying silently, his face gleaming with tears. Atop his massive shoulder, draped in a cloth of purple velvet, spangled with golden stars, was a simple white box Harry knew contained Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in Harry's throat, combined with the sudden urge to vomit. He swallowed his bile and turned his eyes away from the sight. He was not the only one affected. Blaise was gazing mournfully at the ground, while Millie, whose expression showed no outward signs of distress, quietly gripped onto Harry's hand.
Hagrid reached the front of the crowd and approached the white marble slab, placing Dumbledore's casket carefully upon the table before retreating back down the aisle. Harry followed him with his eyes to where he stood at the back of the crowd, astonished to see that his half-brother Grawp was in attendance as well, dressed in a jacket and trousers the size of a small marquee. He patted Hagrid on the head with enough force to kill a smaller man, though Hagrid merely blew his nose loudly into his handkerchief.
A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes rose to his feet and stood in front of the altar on which Dumbledore's casket had been placed. Harry could not quite hear what the man was saying, and he wondered why, with such a large crowd gathered, the man had not bothered to magically amplify his voice. There was a soft splashing sound as a few merpeople broke the surface of the water to listen. Among the trees to the other side, there was movement. The centaurs, little caring for wizardkind in general, had nevertheless come to pay their respects to Dumbledore, albeit from a distance.
The little man in black finished his speech and resumed his seat. Harry waited for someone else to speak. He was expecting speeches, perhaps one from the Minister himself. What he had not expected was for the box containing Dumbledore's body to erupt into bright white flames. Several people screamed as the flames grew higher. Harry thought of the phoenix, born again from its own ashes, and for a moment he had a terrible premonition of Dumbledore rising from his grave, ready to single Harry out as his murderer.
Instead, when the flames died down, there appeared a white marble tomb where Dumbledore's casket had lain upon the stone table. There came a few more cries of surprise as a shower of arrows soared through the air, falling just short of the crowd. It was the centaurs' final tribute. Harry watched them turn away, their long tails flickering out of sight in the dim shadows of the trees. Likewise, the merpeople sank beneath the murky waters of the lake, and slowly, one by one, the witches and wizards gathered for the funeral began to walk away.
Harry rose from his seat automatically, prepared to follow the slow trickle of students who were heading back toward the castle, or else making their way directly toward the school gates, ready to meet the train. He paused when he saw Hermione, her face bathed in the tears she had shed during the ceremony, even as she met his eye with a sad smile. She nodded her head toward the edge of the Black Lake, a clear invitation for Harry to follow. Harry allowed Blaise and Millie to make their way toward Remus and Mrs. Zabini, who were engaged in conversation with some acquaintances of the latter, before he went to join her.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked, drawing close to Hermione's side. She had wiped the tears from her eyes, and was staring across the water at the castle.
"Yes," Hermione said, her voice sad, though steady. "It was some ceremony, wasn't it?"
Harry made no reply. It wasn't the sort of question that required an answer. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the castle, as well. He thought attending Dumbledore' funeral would give him closure, or at the very least ease the guilt he was suffering under. But there was no change. Every moment was agony, and he could not look upon Hogwarts without remembering a hundred past mistakes, errors which, if he had been a little wiser, a little braver, or perhaps just a little more kind, he could have avoided.
With thoughts like these racing through his mind, he turned toward Hermione and said, "I don't think I ever apologized for… I mean, I never really… Hermione, the way I acted this year…"
Hermione gave a laugh, though her voice was thick from crying. "Oh, Harry! You want to do this now? It's in the past."
"But it's important," Harry insisted, "You're important, Hermione. I was a real jerk to you. After we broke up, I realized how much I'd taken you for granted. I wish I had realized sooner. I'm sorry."
Hermione was quiet again, the sad smile still lingering on her lips. Taking a deep breath, she said quietly, "Well… I suppose I could have been a bit more understanding of what you were going through. We were both partly in the wrong."
"So I'm forgiven?"
"What brought this on, all of a sudden?" Hermione asked, turning to look at him directly.
Harry didn't know what to say. What he was looking for was forgiveness, while what he really needed was to forgive himself. But since that was impossible, he wanted to at least hear the words spoken by someone else. He needed to be forgiven, even for something small, like his behavior during a short-lived teen romance.
He couldn't possibly explain all of this to Hermione. He turned away, unable to meet her eye. Someone with Hermione's intelligence was bound to see right through him if he stared at her too long.
Misinterpreting his distress, Hermione quickly added, "Of course I forgive you, Harry. Like I said before, that's all in the past now. I'm glad we can be friends again. So if you were hoping to ask Luna…"
Harry almost laughed at the suggestion. With a shake of his head, he muttered, "It's not that… I can't afford to be close to anyone. Not now…"
A look of alarm crossed Hermione's features, and she asked with real concern, "What do you mean?"
Before Harry could answer, they were joined by a large group of friends. Draco, his friendship with Ron restored, approached with both him and Theo, whilst Nell had fallen in with Blaise and Millie, who had left Mrs. Zabini talking with her many acquaintances. Neville joined their ranks, and soon this small band of Marauders were gathered beside the water's edge, all gazing up at the castle.
"What do you think, Harry?" asked Theo, continuing the conversation he had started with Ron and Draco, "Do you think they'll really close the school next year?"
"I hope not," said Neville before Harry could respond, "I can't imagine never coming back! How could they close Hogwarts?"
"It's not a sure thing they will," argued Ron, nudging Theo in the side, "After all, we're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. Hogwarts is probably safer, even without Dumbledore. It's got all kinds of enchantments, and there's the teachers to defend it. Right, Harry?"
He couldn't avoid the question this time. All eyes had turned toward him. Harry glanced once more at the stone edifice, rising majestically from the other side of the lake. Then he turned his back, facing his friends with renewed resolve.
"It doesn't matter if it closes or not," he said, "I'm not coming back next year."
Ron and Neville stared at him, and Hermione gasped, but Millie merely said, "Told you so" in an undertone to Blaise, who rolled his eyes, and passed her what looked suspiciously like a galleon.
"Not come back?" Draco repeated, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, "Where will you go?"
Harry immediately thought of Grimmauld Place. He needed to see Snape again. Together, perhaps they could come up with a plan to find the remaining horcruxes. But he couldn't tell his friends this. Instead, he replied, "I was thinking of going back to Godric's Hollow."
Draco looked unconvinced. "And then?" he prompted.
"And then…" Harry looked at Blaise and Millie. They knew all about the Horcruxes. They knew what was at stake, and what Dumbledore had charged him to do. He settled for a vague reply, hoping it would be enough to satisfy the curious eyes now gazing upon him.
"Listen, Dumbledore gave me a mission, before he… Well, now that he's gone, I've got to see it through myself."
There was a long silence. The crowd had now almost entirely dispersed. A few stragglers remained near the marble tomb, paying their final respects. Others were preparing to leave the grounds, giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, whose wails of grief could be heard clearly where they stood beside the water.
"Right, so when are we leaving?" asked Blaise, breaking the tense silence.
"What? No, Blaise…"
"You weren't seriously thinking of going without us?" Millie asked, raising a brow.
"You can't," said Harry. "It'll be too dangerous."
Draco let out an angry sigh, running his hand over his face while he muttered something incoherent under his breath. Harry suspected it was nothing more than a stream of curses. When he next fixed his eyes on Harry, he glared.
"I'd expect this sort of pointless bravery from Ron or Theo," he said, "But Potter… You're a Slytherin! It's time you started acting like one."
"What?" asked Harry, rather stupidly.
"Look around you!" Draco said, throwing his arms wide. "We're all on your side! We can help you! Whatever this mission of yours is, won't it be easier if you have help?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Draco's right, Harry," said Blaise. "You can't do this alone. But together? We're strong."
Harry wanted to rebel. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone else getting hurt… getting killed… all because of him and his stupid prophecy.
Then he remembered. Dumbledore had once accused him of putting too much faith in the prophecy. Perhaps he was right. Even if Harry was destined to defeat Voldemort himself, did it follow that he had to destroy the Horcruxes alone? Hadn't Dumbledore and Sirius each destroyed one, without his assistance?
He stared at the determined expressions of those around him. Dumbledore had been right, after all. Harry was a symbol, just as he predicted. There were those who would follow him, join his cause…
And in that moment, Harry formed a new resolution. If Harry failed in his quest, then the sacrifice he had made of Dumbledore at the top of the astronomy tower would have been in vain. His guilt could wait. First, he had to find the other Horcruxes, destroy them, and then eliminate Voldemort for once and for all. And after that… Well, Harry would decide how to pay for his sins when that moment came.
"Alright," Harry finally said, "I'll let you help me… But you have to understand, it will be dangerous. Maybe even lethal…"
"You don't scare me, Potter," said Draco, crossing his arms across his chest.
"This is about the prophecy, isn't it?" Neville asked, "If you're going to take down You-Know… Oh, screw it. If you're going to be fighting, Voldemort, Harry, then I'm with you!"
"Same here," said Ron with a clenched jaw, "I have a score to settle with Fenrir Greyback."
"If you all are planning to fight Death Eaters, then I suppose I'm in, too," said Theo with a shrug, "I won't be satisfied till I've completely disappointed my father."
Hermione was still staring at Harry, her eyes wide with worry and fear. He saw her glance once more toward Hogwarts, then shake her head, as though ridding herself of any further doubt.
"Everyone's right, Harry. You shouldn't have to face this alone."
Harry met each of their eyes in turn, giving them all one last chance to back out, to leave him to his fate. Not one of them so much as blinked. Even Neville stood steadfast next to Hermione, whose tears were now completely dry as she met Harry's with a determined stare.
"Alright," said Harry, "I guess that's settled. Our mission starts now."
And so, with the castle at his back, in the shadow cast by Dumbledore's tomb, Harry gave his friends their instructions. The hunt had begun.
Author's Note:
So concludes Year 6 for Harry and his friends. As per usual, I will be taking an extended hiatus before beginning Year 7. I expect this break to be longer than those between previous years. I have some major plans for the final installment of this story, and will need some extra time for outlining and drafting. Rest assured that I will return, and in the meantime, I hope you'll check out some of my other stories. I have a Marauders fic that I will be updating during this story's hiatus, and I think you will all enjoy it!
As always, thank you to those who have left reviews, sent messages, and supported this story. Some of you have been reading since the beginning, others are new. To all, I say thank you for the feedback and encouragement. Who knows if I would have gotten this far without you.