"Molly, Arthur, " Professor McGonagall leapt up as soon as she saw them. "I'm so sorry, "
"Bill," Mrs. Weasley whispered. At the sight of her son's mangled, bloodied face, she pushed past McGonagall and rushed to his bedside. "Oh, Bill…"
Lupin and Tonks quickly stepped aside to make room. Mrs. Weasley bent down and kissed Bill's bloodstained forehead gently.
"You're saying Fenrir Greyback attacked him?" Mr. Weasley asked McGonagall, his voice tight with concern. "And he wasn't transformed? What does that mean? What's going to happen to Bill?"
"We don't know yet," McGonagall admitted, glancing helplessly at Lupin.
"There might be some changes, Arthur," Lupin said carefully. "This kind of case is rare… possibly unique. We won't know for sure until he wakes up."
Mrs. Weasley took a foul-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey and began dabbing it gently on Bill's wounds.
"And Dumbledore…" Mr. Weasley asked quietly. "Minerva, is it true? Is he really…?"
McGonagall gave a solemn nod.
"Dumbledore is gone," Mr. Weasley said softly.
Mrs. Weasley didn't look up. Her eyes stayed fixed on Bill, and tears began to stream down her cheeks, falling onto his scarred face.
"Of course, his looks don't matter… they're not really important… but he was always such a handsome boy… and he was going to be married…"
"What do you mean by that?" Fleur said suddenly, her voice loud and sharp. "What do you mean, 'he was going to be married'?"
Mrs. Weasley looked up, startled, her tear-streaked face frozen in surprise.
"I—I just meant, "
"You think Bill won't want to marry me anymore?" Fleur demanded. "You think these scars will make him stop loving me?"
"No, I didn't mean, "
"He won't!" Fleur declared fiercely, tossing her silver hair over her shoulder and standing tall. "A werewolf bite cannot stop Bill from loving me!"
"Well, yes, I, I do believe that," Mrs. Weasley said, clearly flustered. "I just thought, maybe, you'd consider that he, he, "
"You think I don't want to marry him now? Or maybe you hope I don't?" Fleur's nostrils flared. "You think I only care about how he looks? My beauty alone is enough for the both of us! These scars only show how brave he is! Let me!"
She shoved past Mrs. Weasley and snatched the ointment from her hands, beginning to apply it to Bill's wounds with swift, decisive strokes.
Mrs. Weasley fell back against her husband, watching Fleur in stunned silence. Her expression was unreadable. No one said a word.
"Aunt Muriel," Mrs. Weasley finally said after a long pause, "has a beautiful goblin-made tiara… I think I can convince her to lend it to you for the wedding. She's always been fond of Bill. It would look lovely in your hair."
"Thank you," Fleur said stiffly. "I'm sure it will."
Suddenly, she and Mrs. Weasley were in each other's arms, sobbing.
"You see?" Tonks said, her voice unusually high and bright as she looked at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he was bitten! She doesn't care!"
"It's different," Lupin replied quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked tense, his whole posture rigid. "Bill won't become a full werewolf. This is entirely, "
"I don't care either!" Tonks said, grabbing a fistful of Lupin's robes and shaking him. "I've told you a hundred times, "
"And I've told you a hundred times," Lupin said, staring at the floor and avoiding her eyes, "I'm too old for you, Tonks. Too poor. Too dangerous."
"And I keep telling you, those are terrible reasons," Mrs. Weasley said gently, patting Fleur's back as she addressed Lupin over her shoulder.
"They're not terrible," Lupin said firmly. "Tonks deserves someone young, whole, and unbroken."
"But she wants you," Mrs. Weasley said with a sad smile. "And besides, Remus, young and whole, doesn't always last." She glanced down at her son.
"This isn't the time," Lupin muttered, looking around the room in panic. "Dumbledore is dead…"
"If this world had a bit more love in it," McGonagall said briskly, "Dumbledore would be the first to approve."
At that moment, the door opened again and Hagrid stepped inside.
The spot on his face where his beard didn't cover was soaked with tears. His shoulders shook as he sobbed, clutching a giant handkerchief.
"I—I've done it, Professor," he choked out. "Moved him. The Minister's here… wants to see you. Some students are still in the courtyard and the halls."
Professor Flitwick had already woken by the time Anne entered and was sitting up, looking toward McGonagall, now the acting headmistress.
"Thank you, Hagrid," McGonagall said, rising swiftly. "Filius, Horace, please come with me. We need to meet. Hagrid, please go inform Professor Sprout, and I'd like you to attend as well."
Hagrid nodded solemnly and lumbered out of the room.
"Reeve, Granger, Weasley," McGonagall addressed Anne, Hermione, and Ron, "you're all prefects. Please return to the courtyard and escort your houses back to their common rooms. If you see any other prefects, pass on the message."
They nodded.
McGonagall turned to Harry. "Before I speak to the others, I'd like a word with you, Harry. Would you come with me?"
Harry gave a quick nod and followed her out.
Anne, Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Ginny exited the hospital wing.
At the front entrance, the castle doors stood open, but no one was there. Anne held Hermione back.
"You go ahead. We'll catch up in a bit."
Ron, Luna, and Ginny exchanged glances, then headed toward the courtyard.
A kiss, not long, not passionate, just a soft, brief kiss. But it left Hermione feeling suddenly steadier, comforted in a way she couldn't quite explain. That was what Anne brought her, peace, even in chaos.
Foreheads pressed together, amber eyes met brown, warm and full of unspoken understanding.
"Look at you, your eyes are all red from crying," Anne whispered. "Once we're back, don't overthink it. What's happened has happened. We'll find a way."
Hermione nodded. "Okay."
"Alright then." Anne gently pulled back. "Go do your prefect duty."
In the courtyard, students from all four houses murmured and pointed toward the base of the Astronomy Tower, shock, grief, and disbelief written across their faces.
When Fanny saw Anne, she cried out and rushed over with a hug. Her face was pale and frightened. "Dumbledore's dead, "
"I know," Anne said gently. "Come on, it's late. Let's head back."
After a quiet word with the Hufflepuff prefect, Anne gathered the Slytherins and led them back to their common room.
There, she gave only a brief explanation, that Harry had witnessed Snape kill Dumbledore. Fanny covered her mouth in horror. Pansy shook her head in disbelief. Millis and Talia clung to each other, crying softly.
"Will Hogwarts close?" Fanny asked from her bed, staring at the canopy.
Silence.
"Maybe. Maybe not," Anne replied. "It's late. Get some rest."
She rubbed a small wooden block in her hand. Carved into it were simple words:
Snape killed Dumbledore. Return immediately.
Before sleeping, Anne etched a reply on the block:
All operations paused. Meet at the Burrow. Five days. 8 p.m.
All classes were canceled. Exams postponed. The day after Dumbledore's death, some parents rushed to retrieve their children, but more witches and wizards arrived in Hogsmeade to attend the funeral.
Diana and Aaron came too, this time as Ministry delegates. They stayed in the castle. The funeral was scheduled for the third day after Dumbledore's death. An hour after the ceremony, the Hogwarts Express would take the students home.
Hundreds of chairs were set up on the grassy hill beside the lake, all facing a white marble table. It was one of the most beautiful summer days imaginable.
People of all kinds were arriving, young and old, scruffy and elegant. The castle ghosts floated in the sunlight, barely visible except when they moved, shimmering in the air like mist.
Anne sat between Diana and Aaron, their hands tightly gripping hers. Since their arrival, she hadn't spoken much to anyone else.
As the funeral was about to begin, she finally turned and looked back.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had taken seats in the last row by the lakeside.
Then, unexpectedly, music began to play. Everyone turned, trying to find the source.
It wasn't hard to spot. Just below the water's surface, a choir of merpeople sang a mournful farewell in their strange, melodic tongue. The song was haunting, filled with aching sorrow.
Hagrid walked slowly down the center aisle, crying silently. Tears streaked his cheeks as he carried Dumbledore's body, wrapped in deep purple velvet embroidered with golden stars.
Anne sniffled. She truly didn't want to cry again. Aaron's grip tightened on her hand, his eyes were red, locked on Hagrid's every step.
A short man in simple black robes stood up. He walked to the front and read from a long piece of parchment.
Ripples broke the lake's surface, merpeople had emerged, watching quietly. From the edge of the Forbidden Forest, centaurs appeared in the shadows, bows at their sides, still and solemn.
When the speaker finished, he sat down.
Then, bright white flames erupted around Dumbledore's body and the marble table. The flames grew tall, hiding everything behind them. Smoke curled into the sky, forming shapes, a phoenix soared into the blue above.
Then the fire vanished. In its place stood a white marble tomb, enclosing Dumbledore and the table completely.
A sudden volley of arrows arced into the sky, some screams followed, but the arrows fell far from the crowd. It was the centaurs' way of mourning. Then, without a word, they turned and disappeared into the trees. The merpeople slipped quietly beneath the water's surface.
The funeral was over. Everyone stood.
Anne turned to Diana and Aaron. "I'm going to see them."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing in the shade of a beech tree, speaking quietly.
As Anne passed the third row, they fell silent. Harry and Ron looked unsure, but after Hermione said something firmly, they both nodded and walked away.
Anne approached Hermione, giving a puzzled glance to the two retreating boys before turning back. Hermione's eyes were red. Her cheeks streaked with tears. There were faint scratches on her face.
Anne pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and raised it, but before she could speak, Hermione grabbed her by the neck and kissed her.
Anne froze in shock, thoughts scattered. But the kiss deepened, raw, emotional, and she responded without thinking.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Anne blinked. "Hermione?"
"I haven't finished packing," Hermione said, gasping for air. "I'll call you when I get home."
"But—"
She turned and ran off before Anne could finish.
"I'll wait for your call," Anne called after her.
She stood there, handkerchief in hand. The same one Hermione had given her weeks ago, and she'd forgotten to return.
She touched her lips, smiling softly.
Some words don't need to be said today.
After all, there's still time, Hermione.
"Diana, Aaron, let's go home. I have something to tell you."
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A/N: Book 6, Finished!