Chapter 322 - The Funeral (1/2)

Chris found the mood in the Great Hall subdued the morning of Dumbledore's funeral. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted too; Chris thought that perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast, but Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Chris decided not to focus on him until he tries to talk to her. Among Scrimgeour's entourage, she spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ginny gave no sign that she was aware of Percy, she didn't even spare him a glance except only one time, when she met Percy's eyes and her expression turned disgusted; Percy looked away from her sister. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral, but Chris wouldn't be on that. She had everything packed and planned.

She also had met the Grey Lady that morning to thank her.

”Don't be ridiculous,” the Grey Lady had snapped. ”You know why I don't want Malgino to win. And to be honest, it was nice revenge. Once he will realize the Keys, he will know that it was my idea.”

”How? The magic was cast by Luna and Hermione,” Chris had asked.

”Yes, but the spell was my invention, he knows that,” Helena had said turning around. ”I have made a mistake of trusting him once. I always wanted to show him that he did a terrible mistake by using me. But I never get to until now. He will angry and disappointed. I wish I could see his face.”

Seeing Helena's savage triumph and feeling a little uncomfortable, Chris had left Helena alone.

After that, she had gone to Dumbledore's office, which was now Professor McGonagall's office. Luckily Professor McGonagall had not changed the password, so she had easily entered the empty office just before breakfast.

The office had looked exactly the same as it had been two days ago when she and Dumbledore had talked about the Flamel couple's death. The only difference was Fawkes' place was empty but Chris knew where Fawkes was.

After a moment of hesitation, Chris had looked at the new golden frame among the dead headmasters and headmistresses and had cleared her throat.

”Professor? Professor Dumbledore?”

At once, the snoozing untroubled Dumbledore in the portrait had open his eyes and peered down at her.

”Christina,” he had beamed.

His smile had taken Chris by surprise but she had forced herself to continue, ”Professor, I have your wand. I found this at the - tower.”

”Oh yes, my wand,” Dumbledore had said turning sombre. ”But is it my wand now?”

”What do you mean Professor?”

”When that man Aeneas came up and disarmed me, I think my wand had changed Masters and then you stunned him, so it must have found another strong master in you.”

”So, you mean. . . your wand is now. . .”

”Obeys you, yes,” Dumbledore had nodded. ”I should advise you to keep it, but Christina, be careful, as it is not a very fortunate wand.”

Chris had stared at Dumbledore's portrait to the wand in her hand.

”Elder wood and Thestral hair.”

Chris' thoughts were interrupted by a nudge from Ginny. They had barely talked to each other in the last two days. Chris knew the others were giving her time to recover and she felt a tiny bit of guilt for leaving them.

Professor McGonagall was on her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

”It is nearly time,” she said. ”Please follow your head of the houses to the grounds. Gryffindors, after me.”

”You all go, I will catch up,” said Chris hanging back.

Ginny and Hermione gave her an odd look but Harry pulled them with him.

”Let her,” he said and Chris felt a little more guilty.

As the students started to walk out of the Hall, Chris walked to the dungeon and straight to the Slughorn's voice. Chris opened the lock waving her wand and quickly collected all the potion ingredients and made potions from Slughorn's personal boxes and potion cupboard. She tucked everything inside her newly chanted brown side bag. It was a gift from her father on her last birthday.

Chris slipped on the bench beside Harry, Hermione and Ron just as Hagrid set Dumbledore's body on the table in front. Not many people noticed Chris as her friends were sitting on the third row from last. As soon as Chris saw the body of Dumbledore, everything about that night hit her hard. She felt she was going to suffocate. She clutched the bench and her hand brushed Harry's and Chris realised his hand had gone stone cold. She grabbed Harry's hand after a moment of hesitation. Without looking at her he clutched her hand painfully. Tears were spilling from his eyes.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes was saying something standing in front of Dumbledore's body.

Chris felt tears burning on the back of her eyes but reminded herself what Dumbledore had taught her. . . It was important to fight and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then evil be kept at bay. . .

”It's important to keep fighting, isn't it?” Harry mumbled and Chris looked at him surprised.