The day after Dumbledore's death, his memorial service began in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
The atmosphere in the Great Hall was extremely oppressive.
Everyone was dressed in black formal robes, and during breakfast, no one seemed to have much of an appetite.
Professor McGonagall had previously left the throne-like seat in the middle of the staff table empty as a tribute to Dumbledore.
But someone was sitting there now.
It was said that the Minister for Magic had strongly insisted upon it.
Dolores Umbridge had always been fond of doing things that highlighted her identity.
Since her attempts to suppress the news had failed, she had no choice but to attend the memorial service.
The consequences of Dumbledore's death had not yet begun to unfold. The public only knew that Dumbledore had suddenly passed away, while the cause of his death remained unknown.
This gave Umbridge an opportunity to make amends, so she had urgently contacted The Daily Prophet, hoping to receive some assistance.
Even now, she shamelessly wanted to say a few words as a special guest, but no one paid any attention to her.
Beside her sat Percy Weasley, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and trying his best to ingratiate himself with Umbridge.
Barty Crouch had stepped down. He couldn't continue putting all his eggs in one basket.
On the long dining table in front of everyone were some dried salted fish, a plate of mashed potatoes, and a few pieces of bread.
However, Umbridge wasn't particularly interested in the food. She disgustedly picked at it with her silver knife and fork before throwing them onto the table with a thud.
In addition, many other Ministry of Magic officials had also come.
Hagrid, wearing a suit that clearly didn't fit him and looked as though it might burst at any moment, sat at the far end of the long table. He was also wearing a black tie.
He needed to take up two seats.
He was attending the memorial service as an employee of the Ministry of Magic.
To his left was Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons, who also occupied the space of two people.
The Headmistress of one of the three major magical schools in Europe had come to pay her respects.
Under normal circumstances, given Hagrid's infatuation with Madame Maxime, he would definitely have tried to strike up a conversation with her again.
But now, the enormous man sat upright and silent. His large face was stiff, dark circles surrounded his eyes beneath his beard, and his eyes were red.
He probably hadn't slept all night.
A small mountain of soft, damp tissues was piled up in front of him.
Madame Maxime had removed her ornate necklace and placed a thin black veil over her large, oval face to show her solemnity.
As for Durmstrang's Headmaster, although he had already passed away, the school had sent a representative to attend Dumbledore's funeral.
Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was also sitting nearby.
Tonks and Lupin sat together. Tonks's hair was a miraculous pink, while Lupin looked haggard, with sunken eyes and an expression of extreme exhaustion.
The current situation looked somewhat like a "cuckoo taking over the nest," as the staff table in the Great Hall was almost filled with people from the Ministry of Magic.
As for Hogwarts itself, all the faculty and staff were also present.
Professor Sprout of Herbology, who was usually somewhat sloppy, was dressed neatly and cleanly, with not a single patch on her hat.
Mad-Eye Moody was now wearing an extremely large pair of sunglasses that covered his one blue, menacing magical eye.
Snape was still wearing his pure-black robes, but his usually greasy black hair seemed to have been specially washed and was no longer shiny with oil.
The caretaker, Filch, had somehow found an old-fashioned suit, probably the most formal attire he could find. He was also wearing a tie and smelled strongly of mothballs.
Madam Pince stood beside Filch, wearing a thick black veil that reached down to her knees.
Madam Pomfrey wore a plain-colored sweater and stood with them.
The main seating area of the Great Hall was empty. Not a single person stood there.
There was only a simple, pure-white coffin.
Inside were two sets of robes that Dumbledore had often worn—purple and green robes embroidered with patterns of stars and moons, neatly folded.
There was nothing else.
In the British wizarding world, there was a tradition that when a wizard died, his wand would be buried with him, provided that was his wish.
Of course, some wizards might regard their wands as family heirlooms and leave them to their descendants instead.
Most wizards only owned one wand in their lifetime.
It could be said that most of a wizard's great achievements were accomplished through their wand. It was the embodiment and symbol of their life's glory.
But even this was not possible for Hogwarts.
Voldemort had taken the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's hands.
His original wand was now missing, so it could not be buried with him.
At this time, the area outside the Great Hall was also filled with people.
Because there were no extra seats inside, many people had come to attend the memorial service on their own initiative.
They were a diverse group.
Some were ragged, while others were neat and presentable. Some were elderly, while others were young.
Most of these people had never appeared at Hogwarts before.
They had all come because of Dumbledore's passing.
Among the more familiar faces was the hairy double-bass player from the eccentric sisters' singing group. They had once performed a beautiful piece at the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament.
There was also Knight Bus driver Ern Prang, Madam Malkin from the robe shop in Diagon Alley, the waitress from the Hogs Head Pub, and the witch who pushed the food trolley on the Hogwarts Express.
They came from almost every profession.
Regardless of social status or wealth, they had all gathered here.
Even some of the ghosts in the castle had come.
They were almost invisible in the sunlight, becoming recognizable only when they moved, their translucent forms shimmering with an illusory light in the bright air.
At that moment, a tall man wearing a striped cloak squeezed in from outside, attracting the attention of many people.
At the same time, a short man with thick hair, dressed in a simple black robe, stood up from his seat and began muttering something in front of the coffin containing no remains.
Ultimately, Dumbledore was officially recognized as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and this was the only identity that everyone accepted.
"He nurtured many outstanding talents for Hogwarts, embodying his noble spirit..."
"Academic maturity..."
"A great mind..."
These words drifted into everyone's ears, but they meant very little.
None of them had much to do with the Dumbledore that the students and teachers knew.
In their eyes, the Headmaster had never been such a serious person.
"That's all bullshit!"
The tall man pushed his way to the front, raised his voice, and shouted.