Unplottable

36 - Harry

Finding the bodies in the scorched Hogwarts ground was maybe the worst part of all. There were almost forty dead enemies, most of them burnt beyond recognition. Hagrid and a few of the older students were digging graves in one of the unharmed parts of the grounds; Professor Sprout, Professor Vector and Madam Pomfrey had undertaken the task of magicking the bodies to the graves. Harry volunteered to help them. He had no idea why, but the felt it was something he had to do. He still remembered shooting red, fatal magic at his attackers, remembered the faint jolt his wand had given each time he had hit a target. Telling himself over and over again that the fight had been necessary, that he had only defended his own life and those of his friends and fellow students, was only of limited help. Some of those lying dead in the grounds of Hogwarts might have died by his hand.

They worked in a field of ashes between dead trees and burnt shrubs, locating and isolating the different bodies and speaking Assembly spells which ensured the bodies would not fall apart during their journey through the air and into their graves. A horrid smell of burnt meat lay over the grounds, clawing its way into Harry's mouth and nostrils, causing nausea. He was working together with Professor Sprout. While using her magic steadily and professionally, the Herbology teacher was shedding tears ceaselessly. At first, Harry thought she was crying about the dead plants, about the beautiful old trees in the ground which would never bear leaves again. Then he heard her sob: "These two are former Slytherin students - Crabbe and Goyle, I'm sure of it! I remember them from my classes."

He turned to look. Surely, from the bulk of their bodies, the two dead looked like Draco Malfoy's former cronies. For a moment, he wondered whether Draco Malfoy had fought with them, and whether he was among the dead.

"They sent our own students here to kill us - or to be killed by us," Professor Sprout sobbed. "None of us will ever forget this." She clenched her teeth. "We will never give in to You-Know-Who, not even now, especially not now. We will avenge the deaths of these students, and if it's the last thing we ever do. Dumbledore will lead us into victory."

Harry bit his bottom lip and kept on assembling a crumbling pile of ashes which had once been a human being. He did not contradict her.

The day before, right after the other participants in the Astronomy Tower battle had checked that nobody else in the castle had been hurt, Flitwick and Varlerta had called them to a meeting. They asked if anybody had told anyone of Dumbledore's death. All of them shook their heads mutely; they had been too scared and to confused to talk about the loss they had witnessed.

"Good - keep this an absolute secret then and defend it with your lives," Varlerta had told everybody. "If I am not mistaken, Voldemort will attack us the moment he finds out that Dumbledore is no longer among us. Without Dumbledore we are close to defenceless. You have seen what he is able to do, and if he sends such a fireball towards the castle again, I believe there will be numerous, maybe hundreds of deaths. The fewer people know, the smaller is the chance he will find out by hearsay. Do not tell your closest friends, your lovers or your families. We must even keep it from the other teachers of Hogwarts. All of our lives depend on secrecy now."

"You can't pretend forever that Dumbledore is still alive, can you?" Hermione retorted grimly. "People are bound to notice they never see him around the castle any more."

"My predecessor, Professor Snape, left an enormous and meticulous collection of body samples in his storeroom," Roary replied. "With it, I found a note stating that he has found a way to magically preserve the hair, so that even if one of us dies, a living person can assume his or her looks by Polyjuice potion without Transforming into a dead person. With his hair supplies of Professor Dumbledore, it seems we may be able to fake things for a long time."

Hermione shuddered. Harry could clearly see she did not like the thought of Transforming into someone who had died. However, as much as he hated Snape, he had to admit that the former Potions Master probably had known what he had been doing.

Now, working side by side with Professor Sprout, Harry found it strange to know something of such importance and not be allowed to tell her. After all, she was a teacher, and Dumbledore had trusted her. However, he accepted the decision of Professor Flitwick, who, after all, had been elected third in command by Dumbledore's order.

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Later that day, they laid Dumbledore to his last rest in the ancient mausoleum situated in a lonely corner of the Hogwarts grounds. Harry learned that all headmasters of Hogwarts were buried below the plain white building. He had never noticed it before and wondered whether the mausoleum was usually concealed by spells, but he didn't ask.

Dumbledore's funeral took place in secrecy. Only those who had seen the headmaster die were permitted to attend or even know about it. Roary, Ambrose, Harry and Ron bore the coffin; they were covered with Harry's Invisibility Cloak and Dumbledore's own Cloak until they had entered the building. Behind them walked a stony-faced Professor McGonagall. Seeing her that day had deeply frightened Harry: Her raven-black hair, always tied into a neat bun, had turned snow-white over night. For the first time, he realised how old she had to be; he wondered whether she would ever fight as fiercely as the day before again.

Ginny, Neville, Hermione, Professor Varlerta and Professor Flitwick brought up the rear. They all held back their tears, trying to remain inconspicuous. Harry himself felt a pain behind the bridge of his nose that felt suspiciously like tears waiting to break out. However, it seemed he had forgotten how to cry; the pain stayed where it was and did not leave him for the whole event.

The round white building was furnished with a kind of altar only. Flitwick told them to place the coffin between two the candles on it. Roary opened the coffin. The figure in it looked unusually frail, but also peaceful. Dumbledore was dressed in a robe embroidered with silver and golden stars. His white hair and beard shone in the semi-darkness. On his chest was a gold ornament bearing the crest of Hogwarts; Harry had never seen it before. They all placed themselves in a semi-circle around Dumbledore's mortal remains. Flitwick, who apparently presided over the event, said solemnly:

"Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, we hereby lay you to rest in the mausoleum of headmasters. This place is reserved for those who have served this school faithfully and well. Like many of your predecessors, you have given your life to save Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For this, for your long and prosperous rulership of this school, and for your many achievements on its behalf we honour you deeply."

On a gesture of Flitwick, they all bowed low.

"Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, you have made use of the right to name your successor. May she rule this school as wisely as you, and may she succeed in protecting the children of magic as you did." With these words, Flitwick took the gold ornament from Dumbledore's chest and handed it to Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva McGonagall, on behalf of your predecessor, on behalf of the teachers and students awaiting your guardianship, I name you headmistress of Hogwarts," he said solemnly.

"I am honoured, and I accept my predecessor's wish. I will rule Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and give my life for its protection if necessary. May I be worthy," Professor McGonagall replied quietly.

Harry had the impression that the whole proceedings were highly ritualised, and that the conversation between the two teachers was following a prescribed scheme. She did not look honoured, he thought; rather, she looked deadened by grief.

"You know you cannot bear the title openly yet," Roary said quietly, "but this is not done for ceremony's sake only, Minerva. We need you as our leader, just as he asked you to be." Flitwick and Varlerta nodded their assent.

"I will do my best," Professor McGonagall replied hoarsely. It seemed to be all she could say at the moment.

Roary closed the coffin again; together with Ambrose, Ron and Harry, he bore it down the spiral stairs into the dungeon. Along circular walls, coffins were placed on stone shelves; each bore a plaque with the former headmaster's or headmistress' name and dates - date of birth, date of becoming head of the school, date of death. Harry noticed that almost all of them had been head of the school up to their death; almost none of them had retired or moved on to another profession. Being the headmaster of Hogwarts, he realised, was not a job; it was a vocation, and it required giving your lifetime for the school - or even your life.

Far down, after passing many, many coffins, they found Dumbledore's empty shelf. It had been decorated with flowers from the unburned part of the ground, but it bore no plaque. Even if this mausoleum was hidden most of the time, announcing Dumbledore's death in writing was too risky.

They all said their last goodbye to the headmaster, touching their fingers to the coffin and whispering something incomprehensible to everyone alive. Harry watched Flitwick, Varlerta, Roary and Ambrose approach. He waited for Professor McGonagall to move, but when she didn't, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny followed the example of the teachers and the Unspeakable. Still, the new headmistress of Hogwarts did not move; Harry decided she wanted to be the last, so he stepped up to the coffin. He was unsure of what to say. Eventually he whispered: "I don't know what to do without you." Perhaps it was not a very comforting thing to say to the dead headmaster, but it was exactly how he felt.

Finally, Professor McGonagall stepped to the coffin, in her hand a small golden box. She opened the coffin one last time and placed the box in the dead wizard's hands in a tender gesture.

"These are some of the ashes of Fawkes the Phoenix, set aside when he burst into flames last night," she said softly. "I believe this is a part of himself he meant you to have, a wound that will always remember him of you if he rises from his ashes again - although I'm not sure he ever will. - Goodbye, Albus - I believe you take a piece of all of us with you."

With these words, she closed the lid and turned away. There was nothing more to say.

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The next two weeks passed as if in a dark dream. No matter how often Harry told himself that even Lord Voldemort would need some time to recover from his defeat in the grounds of Hogwarts, he could not help fearing an attack by day and night. Without Dumbledore's protection, they were more vulnerable than ever. All great fighters among the teachers and even students of Hogwarts, they would fail and fall at the enemy's wand next time. He found it hard to sleep. If he did sleep, nightmares tortured him. In some, he saw the castle as a smoking ruin, everyone in it dead; he heard the high-pitched laughter of Voldemort and saw green flashes shooting from his wand. In others, he was in the Astronomy Tower again, shooting lethal magic at the attackers; only this time, he could see them die. He could hear them scream and smelled his own magic signing their flesh.

Although he knew defending the castle had been necessary, the dead were a heavy burden on his mind. He tried to talk to Ron and Hermione, but somehow he could never find the right words. His friends seemed to feel the same. For hours, they just sat by the fire in the common room, not talking about much. Occasionally, Hermione suggested they should study for the final exams, which were only a few days again, but even she was doing her work only half-heartedly. Getting good marks somehow seemed pointless if Voldemort might attack again any minute.

The exams came and went. None of the sixth year Gryffindors got any particularly good or bad marks; it seemed like even the teachers lacked the energy to examine properly. Even the teachers who did not know Dumbledore was dead were listless: Experiencing an attack on the castle by some of their former students, or maybe burying these students in the Hogwarts ground after the battle, had blunted the edge of everybody's zeal or strictness.

On the day after the last exam, Harry ran into Cho Chang on the stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower. She planted herself in front of him. "You have been avoiding me," she said without introduction.

Harry did not know what to reply. She was right; he had been avoiding her. Knowing what he knew, and not being able to share that knowledge with her, was hard. Whenever he met his fellow students in the common room, those who had not participated in the battle of the Astronomy Tower, he felt they had little in common with him: They had not seen the terror of that day, and neither did they know the danger all of them were in since Dumbledore's death. He had simply not known what to talk about with Cho.

"Just in case you care, I just passed my oral NEWTs - the result of the written NEWTs will be sent to me during the holidays," she told him, obviously quite put out.

"I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "Yes, I do care. I'm glad you passed, and I'm sorry I wasn't with you before your exams. It had nothing to do with you. I haven't been myself since the battle."

"I know." Her face softened a little. "None of us have. It's just - well, you are supposed to be my boyfriend, and you have simply stopped talking to me. My NEWTs were not a particularly good time to have me cry at night because my boyfriend decided to completely ignore me."

Harry felt ashamed. However terribly he was feeling, it would not have been beyond his capacities to hold her hand every once in a while and tell her she would do just fine in the exams. Busy with Quidditch and NEWTs, she wasn't a particularly demanding girlfriend, which had permitted him to ignore her for two whole weeks.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please, forgive me. Everything will be different - I promise."

"Yes, it will," she said bitterly. "My parents will pick me up in about an hour. I will start at Gringott's at the beginning of the month."

Harry stared at her. This was complete news to him. Of course, he knew she was a year older than him, even though he had largely managed to ignore the fact that she would finish school this year. However, they had never talked about what she would be doing afterwards.

"But - is it safe for you to leave the castle?" he asked. Many seventh year students, he knew, were staying, either in the castle or in the refugee camp on the grounds. Between Malfoy's government and Voldemort's unpredictable attacks on his opponents, the world outside Hogwarts had become at least as dangerous as the ill-protected castle, at least to some.

Cho looked down at her feet. After a conspicuous pause, she said: "My parents told me there'd be no danger for me as long as nobody knows I'm your girlfriend. They said You-Know-Who would kidnap me at once if it became known, and they want me to break off contact with you."

All of a sudden, a very funny feeling spread in Harry's stomach. He thought that after the battle and Dumbledore's death, nothing could truly touch him anymore. He found out he had been mistaken.

"Is that what you want, too?" he asked, fearing her reply.

Cho looked up and met his eyes. "Three weeks ago, when they hinted at something like this in a coded owl, I became quite angry at them. I wrote them back that I loved you, and that you loved me, and that I would not deny you no matter what the danger might be. Now I'm not so sure anymore."

"So you've waited to tell me this until it's too late for me to change a thing, because you're leaving today - is that it?" Harry asked. An hour ago, she had been far from his thoughts, but suddenly he was desperate to lose her.

"I was afraid of talking to you before my last exam," Cho replied quietly. "Call me superstitious, but I was thinking I'd totally crack and mess up my marks if I talked to you and we split up. I've been working like a madwoman to make up for all the time I've lost with my illness and - you know."

Her eyes went dark; Harry was sure she was talking about the time when she had been mooning about Snape up in her tower.

"I didn't want to risk all that," she continued. "But today, after I had passed my last exam, I really felt I needed to see you. I didn't want to leave for good without even talking to you."

For a few seconds, they just stood there in silence, looking at each other. Then Harry said tentatively: "I could come visit you in London during the holidays, you know - except for that your parents don't want me to, and that it's too dangerous."

In his heart, he knew that her parents were right: Voldemort would probably kidnap Cho to get Harry in his power. He just wanted very much to ignore this.

Cho nodded. "I've been turning it over and over in my head, too, and I don't know what we can do. If I want to keep things secret, I can't visit you here, either, unless I can find a very good excuse. You will, I suppose, spend your holidays at Hogwarts?"

Harry smiled wryly. "Where else could I go?"

"You know, Harry Potter, the question you are presently not answering me is, do you want to see me or not?" On Cho's forehead, two slim, vertical lines appeared; Harry had only seen her look that way if she concentrated very hard during a Quidditch game. He liked it very much, even though he knew she was angry with him now.

"I do," he said. He took her into his arms and kissed her many times. "I do," he repeated.

"We could send each other coded owls, you know - maybe I could use another addressee for the sake of secrecy - maybe one of the more easy-going teachers, for example Professor Lyons," she said, her forehead resting against his. Harry noticed there were tears running down her cheeks.

"Sure, we will do that," he promised her.

"I'll write out a personal code just for you and me so nobody can decipher or owls if they are intercepted," she promised, wiping her eyes. "My parents can protect me, but they can't keep me from owling you. I'll get a good job and make my own money, and by the time you finish school, we can get our own apartment in London," she said hoarsely.

"Yes, we will," he promised, knowing the danger would not go away even if he finished school in a year. Suddenly he thought of his parents. Had it been the same for them - the wish to be together, to have a life, in the face of a danger that forbid them have a life?

"I need to go pack," she said, wiping her eyes again, because more tears had flowed. "Also, I'll write out a code and give it to you. You need to tell Professor Lyons to give you your letters. I'll meet you in an hour at our own special place - you know, the corridor we used to meet."

He agreed to everything, quite unsure whether or not things were all right between them now. Everything was happening too fast; he felt overwhelmed by the turn of events and did not know how to react. After kissing again and promising each other to meet on the windowsill where Harry had found Cho crying so often during the year before, they parted.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with this hour. There was nothing he wanted to do and nowhere he wanted to go at the moment; he had altogether forgotten why he had left Gryffindor Tower in the first place, but he felt no desire to return there now. He walked about aimlessly until he found himself in their corridor, more than forty minutes too early. He sat down on the windowsill, hugging his knees and waiting for her.

The holidays lay before him like a dark and lonely stretch of time. Cho would leave, and Sirius had not been freed yet. He would miss them both. At least Ron and Hermione would stay at Hogwarts, seeking refuge from a world where Muggle-borns and Weasleys were endangered species. Still, there was no telling how far the protection of the castle would go now that they were without their leader and protector.

Gazing out of the windows onto the sunlit, but grey and burned grounds, Harry wondered about his own future. Where could he go once he had finished school himself? Would there be a future waiting for him, or only a life spent hiding away in dark corners? More importantly, would he be able to hide? Would he, would all the inhabitants of Hogwarts castle even see the end of the next school year?

Harry pushed aside all such worries. There was no point in being afraid; they would have to face the dangers lying ahead of them. They would have to hope that after being steadfast for more than ten centuries, the castle of Hogwarts would keep its students safe for another year.

Of course he would stay here for now, he thought, remembering his words to Cho. Indeed, where else could he go?

The End