When Jon returned to the Great Hall, he ran into an unfortunate problem—the house-elves had already cleared the salmon from the Hufflepuff table.
Just as he was wondering what he should eat next, Professor McGonagall returned to the hall as well.
Zacharias gave Jon a nudge, snapping him out of his thoughts. Professor McGonagall stood at the front with a stern expression, and the quiet murmurs of grief in the hall immediately faded into silence.
"The time has come," she announced loudly. "All students, follow your Heads of House to the grounds. Gryffindor students—you will come with me."
The students filed out from behind the benches in orderly silence, then followed Professor Sprout.
The Ravenclaw students naturally fell in behind Professor Flitwick… while Slytherin's situation was a little unusual. Professor Septima Vector, who taught Arithmancy, was leading them. The witch in her thirties was currently the only teacher at Hogwarts who had graduated from Slytherin.
They walked out through the doors in sequence—Gryffindor first and Slytherin last. After descending the stone steps, they headed toward the shores of the Black Lake.
Warm sunlight fell across their faces.
Along the lakeshore, nearly a thousand chairs had been arranged. A wide aisle ran down the center, and at the very front stood a marble table, all the chairs facing toward it.
Nearly half the seats were already occupied, and the crowd was a mix of every kind of witch and wizard. Some wore ragged clothes, while others were dressed in elegant robes. There were elderly people and young ones alike. Even goblins and house-elves could be seen among them.
Most of the faces were unfamiliar to Jon, though he recognized a few.
Many members of the Order of the Phoenix were present—Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the entire Weasley family.
Madame Maxime was there as well. She and Hagrid were sitting together, the two of them taking up nearly ten seats between them. A few Beauxbatons students had also come, seated behind Hagrid.
Hannah's grandfather, Tom the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, had arrived, along with several familiar faces often seen at the pub. There were also a few singers from the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang the Knight Bus driver, and shopkeepers from the stores in Hogsmeade.
The ghosts of the castle had all appeared too. In the bright sunlight they were almost invisible—only when they moved could they be seen, shimmering faintly in the air. Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, even Peeves—all of them wore unusually solemn expressions.
Jon sat near the back of the crowd, listening to the quiet murmurs of those ahead of him.
More and more people continued arriving in orderly fashion, and some who found no seats stood silently in the corners.
Former Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge passed by them on his way to the front rows. He looked troubled, rubbing his hands together restlessly.
Then there was Rita Skeeter, the British reporter who was far from welcome at Hogwarts. She looked extremely excited, clutching a notebook in her claw-like red fingers while glancing eagerly around.
Jon also spotted Dolores Umbridge. Her toadlike face wore a carefully arranged expression of sorrow, and a black velvet bow sat atop her iron-brown curls.
When she noticed the Gubraithian Fire beside the marble table—brought by Hagrid in memory of Dumbledore—she suddenly shuddered and hurried off to a seat farther away.
Finally, everyone was seated.
Minister Amelia Bones sat in the front row alongside Rufus Scrimgeour and Professor McGonagall. All three were dressed formally and looked solemn.
Still, Jon couldn't help wondering—now that Voldemort had escaped—whether these important figures from the Ministry truly felt any grief over Albus Dumbledore's "death."
Once everyone's attention was fixed on the marble table at the front—and no one was watching him—Jon quietly took a young, not-yet-grown phoenix out of his pocket.
He set it gently on the ground and gestured for it to leave.
A few minutes later—
Fawkes's sorrowful song echoed from somewhere unseen.
The phoenix sang a haunting lament unlike anything Jon had ever heard before, the mournful melody drifting across the grounds and echoing through the castle windows.
As if answering the phoenix's song, a choir of merpeople slowly swam toward the shore. They sang in a strange, flowing language that wizards could not understand.
Their pale, ugly faces were solemn, their purple hair drifting in the water around them.
The music sent chills down the spine, yet it was not unpleasant. The merpeople were expressing grief and despair with unmistakable clarity.
...
Albus Dumbledore had left no body behind.
On the marble table lay only a few relics from his life—
The purple velvet robe studded with golden stars, the pale blue half-moon spectacles, and his rather ugly pointed wizard's hat.
As Hagrid placed each item on the table one by one, many witches could not hold back their tears.
A small, thick-haired man in simple black robes stood up from his seat and walked to the marble table.
It was Elphias Doge—member of the Order of the Phoenix and one of Dumbledore's oldest friends.
His voice was choked with emotion, and those in the back could hardly hear him clearly. Only fragments of words drifted back:
"noble spirit"…
"scholarly achievements"…
"great heart"…
There was a splash from the left.
Jon glanced toward the lake and saw more merpeople surfacing from the lake, listening carefully to the eulogy.
Suddenly, Jon remembered how two years ago—at this very spot—he had nearly destroyed the entire merpeople tribe in the Black Lake with a single Ashwinder egg.
The thought made his heart lurch.
He quickly turned away and pulled up his hood, hoping the merpeople wouldn't recognize him.
There was movement in the Forbidden Forest as well.
Grawp slowly emerged from the trees. The giant wore a jacket and trousers large enough to pass for small tents, his enormous, misshapen head hanging low.
The centaurs had also come to pay their respects.
They did not step fully into the clearing but remained half-hidden among the shadows, silently watching the wizards. Their bows were not raised—they hung quietly at their sides.
The small figure of Elphias Doge finally finished his speech and returned to his seat.
Next, Minister Amelia Bones stepped forward and solemnly read the Ministry of Magic's official tribute to Albus Dumbledore.
Then—
Several witches gasped in fright.
Brilliant golden flames suddenly burst upward from the marble table. The fire climbed higher and higher, until it completely obscured Dumbledore's belongings.
White smoke rose slowly into the air, forming the shape of a phoenix that soared gracefully into the blue sky.
Then the flames vanished.
In their place stood a white marble tomb.
A rain of arrows suddenly shot into the sky, but they fell far from the crowd.
It was the centaurs, mourning in their own way.
The merpeople all slipped beneath the surface of the lake again, which made Jon breathe a little easier.
...
Ginny Weasley could no longer hold back her tears. Her face was streaked with shining tracks of them.
Her brother Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were equally downcast.
Hermione Granger, however, stared intently at the phoenix-shaped wisp of white smoke lingering in the sky. Her hand trembled slightly with excitement.
"I understand now," she murmured.
"Understand what?" Harry asked, turning to look at her in confusion.
But Hermione didn't have time to answer.
As the funeral came to an end, Hogwarts' acting Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, stepped forward and stood beside the white marble tomb.
The murmuring crowd slowly fell silent.
"We have lost a Headmaster!"
"A great man!"
"A professor!"
"A friend!"
"One of the greatest wizards of our age!"
"A symbol of hope—a leader among wizards!"
"A man who never bowed to the Dark Arts!"
"And the greatest protector Hogwarts has ever known!"
"Dumbledore may be gone, but he will live forever in our hearts!"