"...Albus Dumbledore's life was a great one."
After delivering a somewhat impassioned eulogy, the short man finished speaking and stepped down from the stage.
At the end of the funeral, the coffin containing no remains was carried to an open area outside the Great Hall.
There was no need to build him a tomb. His ashes could simply be scattered into the Black Lake.
This was Dumbledore's will.
But McGonagall had certainly never imagined that when he made his will, his body would be lost forever after his death.
Fawkes stood before the coffin and began to sing.
The phoenix sang a moving and poignant elegy unlike anything anyone had ever heard before, as though the sorrow in everyone's hearts had come to life. Its song echoed throughout the grounds and between the windows of the castle.
Then, it suddenly stopped singing, spread its wings, and began circling the coffin.
Its golden-red tail feathers left dazzling trails through the air.
Faint red sparks touched the white coffin and ignited it, slowly consuming the subtly fragrant wood. Eventually, the sparks spread, and the entire coffin burst into flames, swaying in the wind.
In the firelight, whether it was an illusion or not, the crowd could vaguely see the old man's kind smile and hear his earnest teachings.
"Idiot, crybaby, crumb, wring it out!"
Harry's emerald-green eyes reflected the strange firelight, but his mind involuntarily drifted back to the entrance feast during his first year, when Dumbledore had been a kind-looking old man who had uttered some nonsensical words at the end of his speech.
For some inexplicable reason, Harry had always felt that the old man, whose nose had been broken twice, was trustworthy.
But he had been unable to help him escape death.
The feeling of self-blame welled up in his heart once again.
As the fuel was consumed, the thick flames gradually died down.
Just as the last scorching flames faded, a gentle breeze swept across the area. The embers first spiraled upward, then were carried toward the lakeside, turning into wisps of pale-golden smoke that shimmered in the sunlight.
At some point, Fawkes disappeared into the golden mist.
The phoenix had left sometime after losing its master.
But its song seemed to have been enchanted.
The sound still lingered all around them, its echoes resonating and refusing to fade from their ears.
For some reason, neither the merpeople nor the centaurs, both of whom had been on good terms with Dumbledore, attended the funeral or sent representatives.
The funeral ended.
Just then, a light drizzle began to fall, and the misty rain added to the somber atmosphere covering the entire campus.
After the funeral, some dignitaries, including Umbridge and representatives from other schools, left first, while the students gradually began to disperse.
"Potter, Granger, Weasley, wait a moment. I have something to tell you."
Professor McGonagall stopped the three of them and kept them behind.
Holding a black umbrella, she said with a serious expression,
"According to Professor Dumbledore's will, you three will inherit a portion of his estate."
Professor McGonagall nodded, her tall, black pointed hat swaying slightly.
"A will? Professor Dumbledore knew he would...?"
Ron widened his eyes in surprise.
"Even without You-Know-Who, his struggle with Grindelwald alone could easily have resulted in an accident. Leaving a will was quite normal. It's simply a pity..."
As though aware of Ron's confusion, Professor McGonagall explained before sighing and leaving the rest of her sentence unfinished.
"Is it just the three of us?" Hermione asked.
"I'm afraid so."
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and nodded heavily.
"The password to his office is 'apple pie.' Dumbledore told me that if something happened to him, you should go to his office. There, you will find out what he left you."
The new Headmaster's office, belonging to Sinkness, was a newly established space on the seventh floor.
Dumbledore's office remained in the same place it had been when he was Headmaster.
No one had entered it since his death.
The three said goodbye to Professor McGonagall and walked briskly across the slightly damp, soft lawn toward Dumbledore's office in the castle.
Meanwhile, the castle was gradually filling with people.
"Help me! Waaaaah!"
At that moment, a strange, completely black suit of armour creaked and groaned in a corridor on the second floor, as though it were being dragged along the ground.
Myrtle was trapped inside the armour.
She cried out desperately, but her steel throat was blocked, so all that emerged were clanging noises.
The three walked down the dimly lit corridor, with Hermione at the front.
She seemed somewhat dazed.
Her usually quick-witted mind felt as though it were a machine that had lost all its lubrication. The old man's death had dealt her an enormous blow.
Nevertheless, she forced herself to regain her composure, accept reality, and try her best to return to normal.
As she walked, she wondered what relics Dumbledore might have left for them.
Could there be some sort of strategy for dealing with Voldemort?
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she walked toward Dumbledore's office almost unconsciously, paying little attention to the two people behind her.
The two boys following her had fallen considerably behind.
Just as Ron and Harry were about to quicken their pace to catch up—
Ron suddenly stopped.
"Harry, did you hear that?"
Ron quickly shook his head, his eyes darting around as his short, fiery-red hair swung with the movement.
"It sounds like there's some kind of noise."
Harry nodded in response, also glancing around several times.
"The sound seems to be coming from behind."
"Where's Hermione?"
They looked at each other and realized that Hermione seemed to have been walking much faster than them, leaving them behind.
The distress signal wasn't getting through.
Myrtle was trapped inside the armour, and her voice had become rough and distorted, making it impossible to understand what she was saying.
However, the fact that they couldn't hear her did not mean that her cries had no effect.
The armour moved faster and faster.
Its helmet rattled violently, and a huge black shadow appeared at the end of the corridor, stumbling and charging toward the two boys.
"Harry? Look, what's that?"
Ron turned his head and pointed toward the armour, which was moving at high speed, staggering and crashing into the sculptures around it.
By now, his voice was loud enough to serve as a warning.
"Oh my God! It's still charging at us!"
Ron suddenly realized that the armour was already extremely close.
"Impedimenta!"
"Impedimenta!"
The two of them drew their wands and cast the spells at the jet-black armour, which gleamed with a metallic sheen.
However, the force of inertia was simply too great.
Not to mention that Myrtle was now trapped in darkness and had completely lost her bearings, even the two Impediment Jinxes did little to reduce the armour's momentum.
The black-armoured figure merely tilted its body and slammed into the two of them, shoving them into a classroom.
They tumbled inside in a chaotic heap, and the impact instantly scattered the neatly arranged rows of desks.
Meanwhile, Hermione had already reached a higher floor.
She remained completely unaware that her two companions had fallen behind.