Despite McGonagall's plan to conduct the funeral faster so that the students could be brought home as soon as possible, it was not fast enough for some parents. Harry, being a prefect, had a front-row seat when parents came marching into Hogwarts to collect their children from the castle. He had escorted a fair share of Gryffindors from the castle.
Some of the brave lions strenuously objected to being taken away. Such students thought they would be perceived as cowards, but Harry smothered such thoughts from his fellow Gryffindors.
"There is nothing heroic about attending a funeral, Freckle. For now, go with your father and be with your family these holidays. I'm sure you'll have your opportunity to pay respects to Headmaster Dumbledore next year. By then, everything should be back to normal." Harry consoled the troubled youngster, who was only a second-year student.
"Will everything go back to normal?" Freckle asked with giant doe eyes.
"Of course. Trust me, you go and enjoy the holidays with your family." Harry patted the boy's shoulder and shook hands with the kid's father.
"Thank you, Mr potter. I… please don't think less of me… I…" Mr Roberts looked flushed and stammered a lot, searching for words.
"Family comes first, Mr Roberts. You take care now." Harry said before extracting himself from the awkward situation and letting the father and son take their leave.
Like them, many others were leaving Hogwarts early, not waiting for Dumbledore's funeral. Running parallel to this was the funeral preparations in Hogwarts. A lot of important people gathered at Hogwarts for the funeral. The Board of Governors agreed to bury Dumbledore inside the castle grounds, which was unprecedented. No other Hogwarts Headmasters in the past were buried inside the castle grounds. If there was precedence, it remained in the dusty pages of history long forgotten. There were no marked graves near Hogwarts that much everyone knew.
Pretty soon, Hogwarts crawled with Ministry officials, foreign dignitaries, parents, and other guests. Hagrid made the grave while Professor Flitwick helped construct the tomb. Hagrid's eyes were red, brimming with tears as he helped carry Dumbledore's body in a casket. There were many sorrowful faces as Dumbledore's body was placed before them to pay last respects.
The air hung heavy with palpable grief as if the very skies mourned the loss. Hogwarts, once alive with laughter and the clamour of students, felt eerily still.
Harry stood with Neville, and his fellow year-mates sat along with guests who were welcomed to the castle grounds. There was quite a long lineup of guests present as Dumbledore's fame and connection stretched across international boundaries. Almost all European Ministries of Magic were represented with at least one representative to pay their respects to the famed defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald.
But it was not just wizards and witches appearing for the funeral. Centaurs were present for the funeral, although they stayed far away from everyone else at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. But that didn't make Professor Firenze shy away from standing prominently with other Hogwarts professors. The Merpeople had chosen to come out of their watery homes to attend the funeral, and they paid a jaunty tune with their special flutes. There were a few Dwarfs in attendance as well, although Harry had no idea what their connection to Dumbledore was as they were highly isolationist and secretive.
Even Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp, was present. Thankfully, Hagrid's 'giant' brother was on his best behaviour and seemed to understand Hagrid was in mourning. He supposed even thick-skinned Giants could feel deep sorrow when their loved ones were hurting.
His eyes once again went to Hagrid, and he felt a twang of pity for the friendly half-giant. He could understand why Hagrid would be so heartbroken today. Dumbledore was the only guy who believed Hagrid when Tom Riddle framed him all those years ago. If it wasn't for Dumbledore, it was most likely that Hagrid would've ended up in Azkaban or worse.
"Thank Merlin, those Merpeople are not singing their song." Ron was heard muttering in the background.
Everyone in Harry's company flinched at the reminder of their fourth year when Harry opened the golden egg inside the common room. No one wanted that horrid sound to repeat here. Thankfully, the Merpeople used their flutes to expertly touch notes so beautifully, leaving many in tears.
Suddenly, with a bright glare of fire, Fawkes appears above the casket with a sorrowful trill. Fawkes' majestic flames cast a warm glow on the guests assembled, putting everyone at ease. Even Harry, who was on edge, looking out for any sneak attacks from Voldemort's supporters, momentarily relaxed as the Phoenix song reached his ears.
He looked closely at Dumbledore's familiar. Fawkes looked healthy and brightly lit, with red and gold flames clinging to its body. He wondered what would happen to Fawkes now that Dumbledore was dead.
As the thought crossed his mind, Fawkes disappeared in a flash of flame.
'I suppose he can do whatever he wants.' Harry thought.
Then, there was a long line of eulogies from those who wanted to honour Dumbledore's memory. It was a long, tedious hour of different people outperforming each other, but he survived the event somehow without falling asleep. When the time came for everyone to pay their last respects to Dumbledore, he went near the open casket, conjured a couple of white lilies and placed them beside the casket. While he did that, he couldn't help but stare at the fake wand Dumbledore was holding in his hands. It was the exact replica of the Elder Wand, but it was entirely a transfigured piece of wood and nothing more.
If Voldemort happened to discover the tale of Elder Wand and trace it back to Dumbledore, all he'd be getting would be a piece of wood he transfigured from a pebble. He wished he could see the face Voldemort would make once he took this fake wand.
Once he paid his respects, Harry was about to join his friends when he noticed a familiar couple. He swiftly changed direction and went to greet them, expertly evading other guests.
"I'm surprised you came." Harry commented as he reached the Flamels.
"Albus was my most talented student. Of course, I'd visit him on his untimely passing." Nicholas said with a poker face that Harry struggled to read.
"You realise Dumbledore sentenced you to death for his act of destroying the Sorcerer's Stone even though he didn't realise it was fake." Harry said blandly.
"When you have lived long as I have, you'll tend to develop immunity to such backstabbing." Nicholas said with a placid smile, sounding like an old monk with some nonsense live-and-let-live shtick.
"Speak for yourself. I came here to spit on that man's grave." Perenelle said with a snort.
"As you can see, not everyone gains wisdom with age." Nicholas said with a grin.
"What you call wisdom, I call it the refusal to do what is necessary." Perenelle said, throwing a dirty look at her husband before her eyes zeroed in on Harry, "But you… you surprised me. You had the guts to do what was necessary. I suppose you got that from me."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, playing it cool.
"There is no need for playing ignorant." Perenelle chided him as if she was speaking to an unruly child, "I can feel that fake crutch on Dumbledore's body in the guise of a wand. You might've used the most powerful wand to place the spell, but my eyes can easily see past such frivolous magic."
Harry didn't say anything and merely stared at his grandmother until it finally clicked that she had prophetic powers.
"You had visions?" Harry asked curiously, neither confirming nor denying her accusation.
"I saw you in possession of all three Hallows. When you are ready, reach out to us. There is work to be done." Perenelle said with a triumphant gleam in her eyes, "I'm sure you know why, and you'll need my help."
"I believe this is not the place or time to discuss these matters." Nicholas commented.
"We shall meet… soon." Perenelle said before setting her sights on the casket.
Harry watched Perenelle and Nicholas Flamel leave his side to pay their respects to Dumbledore. He turned away from them and found himself locking eyes with a pair of brown eyes, which turned out to be Minister Bones.
"I believe we need to talk." said Madam Bones, looking intently at him.
"I believe we shall."
*****
"I believe we have waited enough, and you owe us an explanation." McGonagall looked pointedly at Harry. "What were you and Dumbledore doing the night before he was… murdered?"
Harry stared at the occupants in the room. Almost all the members of the Order were present inside McGonagall's office, including Moody, Remus, Tonks, Arthur Weasley, Elphias Doge, and Kingsley. Sirius was also present with his wife Brigitte, along with Professor Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn. From the Ministry's side, there was Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour and Damien Greengrass.
"Dumbledore wanted me to keep this a secret, and I have adhered to his wishes so far. I disagreed with his method, so I'm choosing to reveal this information now." said Harry.
"If Dumbledore didn't want this information to be known other than you, Mr Potter, then it's better that this information remains as it is per his wishes. I have known Albus the longest amongst everyone here, and he does not do something without reason." said Elphias Doge, his faith in Dumbledore unwavering.
"Stubborn old goat."
Harry resisted the urge to laugh as he heard Tonks mutter under her breath while Moddy chastised her for the comment.
"No one is infallible. Dumbledore included." Sirius spoke up, and no one had the guts to correct him, considering he spent thirteen years in Azkaban on a faulty assumption.
"Sirius is right." Remus came to his friend's support, "Dumbledore was a great wizard, but he can make mistakes, too. If he didn't, we'll not be sitting here with Dumbledore buried in the ground."
"Mr Potter." McGonagall looked expectantly at him.
"You might've noticed that Voldemort appears to be immortal. Even though his body was destroyed when he attacked my family, he has managed to cling to life and regain his body." Harry started.
"Yes, we've noticed that." Moody growled.
"The reason the Dark Lord cannot be killed is because he has achieved immortality by splitting his soul into several pieces and binding them to vessels."
"He broke his soul into multiple pieces!" Elphias Doge cried in horror, looking pale.
"Yes." Harry nodded, "It's the foulest of Dark Magic performed by the act of murder and an obscure ritual. The details of the process are far too ghastly for me to explain here, but the gist of it is that to kill the Dark Lord, we need to destroy each of his soul containers."
"He created more than one of these foul things!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed, looking horrified at the prospect of multiple soul shards.
"Yes. You might remember the incident related to the Chamber of Secrets in my second year, Mr Weasley."
"How could I forget?" Arthur said with a shiver, "Are you saying one of these foul things was responsible?"
"Yes." Harry nodded, making Arthur look thoroughly floored.
"Oh, Merlin! My Ginny… possessed by You-Know-Who's soul!" Arthur just sat there with his shoulder dropping and looking like he wanted to run out of the room and be with his family.
"Ah…!" Harry cleared his throat with an uncomfortable look, "Unfortunately, yes, but there is nothing to worry about. The soul shard was destroyed that year itself and no longer has any influence over Ginny."
"So, these soul pieces can possess people?" Minister Bones asked while exchanging a concerned look with Scrimgeour.
"To a certain extent, yes." Harry admitted, "But, some of these containers are not designed to manipulate but to kill. Professor Dumbledore came across one such container during the summer holidays and was inflicted with a dark withering curse."
"So, the blackened skin on Albus' right hand…? It was…" McGonagall asked hesitantly.
"He fell to the effects of a Confundus charm set by the Dark Lord, which made Dumbledore throw caution into the wind and touch one of the soul containers without protection." Harry explained.
"So, you were out with Albus that night to hunt down one of the Dark Lord's soul shards?" Professor Flitwick asked curiously.
"Yes. We tracked down another one that night in an abandoned cave. The defences in the cave were rather ingenious, and Dumbledore insisted on taking them on by himself. I was only forced to intervene when the inferi surrounding the cave attacked us, and Dumbledore was too weak to do anything about it."
"So, I take it you destroyed this soul container then?" McGonagall asked, looking displeased for some reason.
Harry assumed McGonagall was exasperated at Dumbledore's secretive nature and refusal to ask for help.
"Yes, and I'm happy to say we have destroyed them. Right now, Voldemort is as mortal as any of us. A well-placed cutting curse can be the end of Voldemort's reign of terror." said Harry, to the relief of everyone in the room.
"I'd like to inspect this cave you spoke of." Minster Bones suddenly piqued up.
"Of course, but only after Voldemort is dead for good."
"Why?" Scrimegor asked, staring suspiciously at Harry.
"Because if Voldemort learns his soul anchors are destroyed, he'll attempt to make another one, and we'd be forced to deal with an immortal Dark Lord once more." Harry explained, taking no offence from the current head of the DMLE.
"That could be the reason why Albus kept this a secret." Elphias Doge commented grimly.
"Yes, but I believe I can trust the interests of people in this room are aligned in seeing the complete destruction of the Dark Lord and his band of murderers. They need to be brought to heel by any means necessary. Britain cannot be held hostage to his mindless terror any longer." Harry said firmly.
"Hear! Hear!" Sirius voiced his agreement.
"Rightly said, Mr Potter." McGonagall said, looking proudly at him with a hint of a smile before that turned to concern, "Could Severus be aware of these soul anchors? If he knows…"
"No." Harry shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore never told anyone else about this."
"How can you be so sure? Albus trusted Severus far more than anyone for some reason." Flitwick said with a pained look, still smarting from the betrayal of their colleague.
"Because Professor Dumbledore was a firm believer in the Prophecy. He was convinced only I could kill Voldemort, and he only gave this information to me for this sole reason." said Harry.
"This prophecy… what does it say?" Scrimgeour immediately latched on to it.
"You don't have to answer that, Mr Potter." McGonagall immediately intervened, throwing a dirty look at the man.
"I don't mind actually. It doesn't make much of a difference as far as I'm concerned." Harry shrugged before he recited the prophecy.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
Just like Dumbledore, the prophecy easily made more believers in the span of a couple of seconds. In the minds of those in the room, he solidified the position as the prophesied hero born to destroy the worst Dark Lord their world had ever seen. While Dumbledore might've never aired the prophecy to even the staunch Order members, Harry had no such inhibitions.
After all, it was in his interest to make himself invaluable. Every scrap of influence was a stepping stone to take to great heights of political power within the wizarding world. And there was no better position than becoming the prophesied hero, considering he had the magical power and skill to fill that position. If anyone in the room understood that as he did, it was Damien Greengrass. The man was looking at him with a look of understanding.
******
The air in Nott Manor was heavy with the scent of triumph. In the grand drawing room, the flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows, dancing across the walls as if caught in the throes of some dark celebration. Voldemort, pale and snake-like, sat at the head of the long, black table, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and malice. The Dark Lord was silently gloating at the sweet taste of victory over his most dangerous enemy.
Around Voldemort gathered his most loyal followers, the Death Eaters, clad in their black robes, faces obscured by masks, yet their body language betrayed an electric anticipation. Whispers of Dumbledore's death had swept through the ranks like wildfire, igniting a fervour that rippled through the group.
"Tonight, we commemorate a victory," Voldemort began, his voice hissing like a serpent. "The death of Albus Dumbledore marks a turning point. The wizarding world will now understand that hope is a fleeting illusion, easily crushed beneath our boots."
The Death Eaters in attendance exchanged excited glances but stayed quiet out of deference for their lord.
Voldemort's eyes fell on the sole man other than himself without a mask in the room. It was none other than his spy amongst Dumbledore's little band of rebels, Severus Snape. The former potion master was not someone he'd have thought capable of committing the act. He had even expected Severus to botch it up after the disaster that was Draco Malfoy.
But Severus surprised him by completing the mission. It was so hard to find competent followers, and Severus seemed one of the best he had right now. Of course, he shouldn't have been this much surprised. Severus was a half-blood and had to strive most earnestly for everything, unlike his pureblood followers.
For a brief moment, he could see a part of himself in Severus.
"You have played your part well. Your loyalty, though questioned by many," Voldemort cast his eyes wide at the other Death Eaters at the table, "…has proven invaluable. Come, Severus. Tell us how you achieved this great victory over Albus Dumbledore."
Snape leaned into the dim light, the flicker of candles illuminating his pale features. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke, his voice steady and cool.
"Albus Dumbledore is a powerful wizard even my lord respects. I knew I could not overpower such a man but Dumbledore's weakness lies in seeing the better side in everyone. My success lies in convincing Dumbledore that I was his man through and through so that he never saw the trap being sprung."
"Ah, the irony!" Voldemort laughed, his red eyes blazing with mirth. "Albus Dumbledore was brought low by the one he trusted the most. His weak heart finally destroyed him, and you deserve all the credit, Severus. You've performed most splendidly."
"His trust was his downfall," Snape replied, his eyes cold as he met Voldemort's gaze. "He underestimated the depth of my resolve."
Voldemort rose from his seat, his serpentine form looming over Snape. "You have proven your worth, Severus. Your reward will come in time. But for now, let us toast to this monumental victory."
He raised a goblet filled with a dark liquid that swirled ominously. "To Dumbledore—may his legacy be forgotten in the ashes of his defeat."
The Death Eaters echoed his sentiment, raising their goblets in a toast.
Voldemort savoured the moment before his attention shifted to his next most hated enemy that remained in defiance of his designs.
"With Dumbledore out of the way, the sole enemy that stands in defiance against me is Harry Potter. The boy will now learn the true power of Lord Voldemort and what it means to attract my enmity." Voldemort hissed, his thin lips stretching across his face as he laughed cruelly.
"Now, the real war begins!"