MTL - 94 Diagon Alley-Chapter 182 Festival
"Then I can catch my breath. When are you and George going to get married?" Ginny asked an earth-shattering question without changing her face.
"I can't let Garrick miss my wedding." Gwen said with a small yawn, "Just wait and see, Ginny, after Bill's wedding, I bet a You don't want to be involved in any more weddings this year."
Ron shuddered when he heard the words, "I don't know why I'm scared, but anyway, a wedding is better than..."
They fell silent, everyone fell into contemplation, and Gwen believed that the others, like her, thought of Dumbledore's body being buried the next morning. Although Gwen is the number one proponent of Dumbledore's suspended death conspiracy theory, the whole castle is talking about death, leaving her inexplicably sentimental about the upcoming funeral. She understands that everyone still has something to do. For example, you must guard the wand shop. Dumbledore, for example, must accomplish his great work. Harry, for example, has to keep looking - what's that called? Horcrux.
The next day, Gwen woke up early to pack. The Hogwarts Express will leave an hour after the funeral. She came downstairs and found the atmosphere in the auditorium very depressing. Everyone was wearing dress robes, and no one seemed to have much appetite. Professor McGonagall left the throne-like seat in the middle of the staff table vacant. Hagrid's chair was also empty, and he might not be in the mood for breakfast. But Rufus Scrimgeour sat in Snape's seat, looking very dazzling. Gwen also saw Percy Weasley with red hair and tortoiseshell glasses. Ron showed no sign that he knew Percy was coming, just sliced his smoked fish extra hard.
At the Slytherin table over there, Crabbe and Goyle got together and whispered. Although the two of them were both big and stout guys, but without Malfoy's pale and slender figure in the middle, and without Malfoy giving orders to them, they both looked particularly lonely.
Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, and the sad whispers in the auditorium immediately calmed down.
"It's almost time," she said. "Please follow your Dean to the grounds. The Gryffindors come with me."
They came out from behind the bench in line, barely making a sound. They were walking in the direction of the lake. The warm sunlight shone on everyone's faces, and they silently followed Professor McGonagall to the place lined with hundreds of chairs. There is an aisle in the middle of the chairs, and in front of it is a marble table with all the chairs facing it. This is one of the most beautiful and pleasant days of summer.
Half of the chairs were already filled with people, all kinds of people: ragged, neat and decent; old and young. Most Gwen didn't know, but there were some she did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody with his apprentice Cedric, Tonks—she His hair had miraculously turned a dazzling pink again, and Remus Lupin-Tonks held hands with him, much to Gwen's relief. The Weasleys and Fleur supported Bill, followed by Fred and George in black dragon leather jackets. Then there's Mrs. Maxime - two and a half chairs all by herself, Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, the shaggy double bass player in the Wacky Sisters singing group, Erne Pran, the Cavalier Bus driver, Mrs. Morkin from the robe store in Diagon Alley, and a few others just looked familiar, such as the waiter at the Hog's Head bar, and the witch pushing the cart on the Hogwarts Express. The ghosts of the castle also came, barely visible in the sunlight, recognizable only when they moved, gleaming phantoms in the bright air.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny took the last seats in the row of chairs by the lake. Gwen pulled Katie and the twins to the row behind them, and Oliver Wood hurried from the team. People were talking to each other in low voices like a breeze blowing across the grass, and the chirping of birds was extraordinarily loud. The crowd kept coming. Gwen saw Luna help Neville sit down in the chair and couldn't help feeling fond of them both. On the night of Dumbledore's death, only the two of them answered Hermione's call, and even Harry said to Ginny: Maybe it's because they both miss D.A. the most... Maybe they often put coins Check it out, hopefully D.A. will organize again...but most importantly they are truly loyal and brave. Gwen strongly agrees with this view.
Connelly Fudge walked past them towards the front seat, scowling and twirling his green hat as usual. Then came Rita Skeeter, with a notebook clutched in her red paw-like hands, and then the students recognized Dolores Umbridge, furious. Umbridge had a sad expression on his skinny/toad/toad face, and a black velvet butterfly rested on his iron-brown curls. As soon as she saw Firenze the centaur standing by the lake like a sentinel, she hurried to a seat in the distance.
Finally, everyone is seated. Gwen, forgetting his distaste for Umbridge, turned to look for the source of the music, like the sound of fairy music from another world. She wasn't alone in doing this: many heads were turning, searching, with a little wonder.
"There." Ginny whispered into Harry's ear.
Gwen also looked in the direction of Ginny's finger, in the clear green water of the lake in the sun, just inches below the surface. A chorus of mermen sang softly in a strange, incomprehensible language, their pale faces rippling and purple hair floating around them. The music speaks plainly of grief and despair.
Hagrid walked slowly along the aisle between the seats. He was weeping silently, tears streaming down his face, and he held Dumbledore's body in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet studded with gold stars. Seeing this scene, it seems that everyone feels a stinging pain. Ron looked shocked and pale. Big, big tears kept falling on Ginny and Hermione's legs.
George held Gwen's hand tightly, and they couldn't help looking at the corpse.
In the funeral atmosphere, the corpse that was exactly like Dumbledore still made Gwen feel palpitations. The only thing that comforted her was the magic of binding her tongue tightly.
Hagrid seemed to place the body carefully on the table. He was walking back down the aisle, blowing his nose hard and making a trumpet-like noise, and some people gave him dissatisfied glances, including Dolores Umbridge... But everyone knows Dumbledore Lido wouldn't mind.
A small man with bushy hair and a plain black robe rose from his seat and stood in front of Dumbledore's body. Harry couldn't hear what he was saying. Occasionally a word floats behind hundreds of heads. "Noble spirit"..."academic maturity"..."great mind"... none of this makes much sense.
Professor McGonagall's turn to speak, this strong and brave witch has never shown such a vulnerable side. But she was extremely stingy with her own words, and said only one sentence: "If Dumbledore was here, he would want us not to mourn his death, but to remember his life." Then she hurried back to her seat, and kept her handkerchief over and over again. Wiped his face.
Suddenly, dazzling white flames shot out from around Dumbledore's body and the table: the flames rose higher and higher, covering the body. White smoke curled up into the air, taking on all kinds of strange shapes, just like the white light Gwen had seen under the Astronomy Tower. Then there appeared a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which it was laid.
Countless arrows hid in the air like showers, causing a few screams, but they fell far away from the crowd. This is the horse people mourning. They let out a long hiss, accompanied by a human-language eulogy: "A young warrior."
"Why young?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice.
"Because centaurs are very long-lived magical creatures," Hermione replied subconsciously, sniffling, "Dumbledore is only young for them- oh!" Ron himself blushed. face, and was busy handing Hermione a handkerchief.
Or maybe it was because in the cold coffin lay a real young man who was only a few years older than them when he died.
While Gwen was still infected with grief, George turned resolute and warm, looked at his girlfriend and said, "Do you know what we can do now?"
Gwen didn't know how to answer.
"Fight." The boy's eager faith almost set the snow-white funeral on fire, "Gwen, we will continue to fight them until the day of victory."
Years later, Gwen can still remember that fake funeral, she once thought that Dumbledore's departure would make the wizards lose hope. But many—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Fred and George—whose determined eyes were like a clear, bottomless spring, lived with her Like those who have experienced a lot but are still curious about the world, they have seen the complexity and suffering of life and are still persistent in finding meaning.
This was the last time Gwen took the Hogwarts Express home, and she and
