Poisoned Youth | ✓

49- Vows

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I were spending all of our time together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock us; I could imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore had not died, and we had had this time together at the very end of the year...

We visited the hospital wing twice a day: Neville had been discharged, but Bill remained under Madam Pomfrey's care. His scars were as bad as ever — in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs —in personality, he seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that he now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

I rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs, I found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted too; I thought that perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast, but Snape's place had been removed altogether.

Over at the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Draco Malfoy between them, bossing them around. Pansy Parkinson looked annoyed at the absence of her best friend, Adelaide Ward.

Harry softly nudged me from my thoughts and rubbed my forearm softly. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet, and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

We filed out from behind our benches in near silence. I glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long, emerald green robes embroidered with silver. I had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when everyone reached the entrance hall, I found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

Toward the lake, Professor McGonagall led up to a clearing where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of us: There was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs; shabby and smart, old and young. I didn't recognize most of the people, but I saw the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt; Mad-Eye Moody; Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink; Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Bill supported by Fleur, his fiancé, and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two and a half chairs on her own; Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron in London; the hairy bass player from the Wizarding group the Weird Sisters; Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus; Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley; and some people whom I merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially on the gleaming air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, I saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. Ginny, Neville, and Luna alone of the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died and I would forever be grateful for it. They were loyal to the end.