Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 1529: The White Tomb

At that moment, music sounded in the open space by the lake shore.

The sound was ethereal, like otherworldly music.

Suddenly hearing the sound, many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

Evan was also a little distracted, but soon realized that it was the voice of the Merpeople.

He noticed that Hermione had already found them, while Elaine and Gabrielle were still searching, looking bewildered. Evan nudged the two of them and motioned them to look to the left.

In the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, a chorus of Merpeople were singing in a strange language humans could not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them.

The music made the hair on people’s necks stand up, and yet it was not harsh or unpleasant.

It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. The Merpeople’s emotional, deeply sorrowful faces were reflected in the water.

Accompanied by the mournful music, Hagrid also stood up.

Comforted by Madame Maxime, Hagrid nodded, raised his hand and vigorously wiped his red and swollen eyes, picked up the portrait of Dumbledore wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, and walked slowly up the aisle between the chairs.

Since there was no body of Dumbledore, the funeral ceremony was carried out in this way.

In the photo, Dumbledore looked as kind, wise, and gentle as ever, smiling — just as he had when Evan first saw him at Hogwarts upon his arrival.

People began to cry, tears fell, Hermione, Ginny and Gabrielle were all wiping tears.

Only Elaine blinked, tilted her head and looked at Evan, but did not cry.

She had already witnessed too much death in her past experiences.

Her parents, her clan, enemies killed by vampires, and the weak lives that died one after another on the frozen Norwegian soil and in the dark underground world…

Even though Caresius had done his best to protect her, Elaine had still seen those lives fade away. Death itself was part of what made up a vampire. She was probably used to it by now and didn’t think it was something worth shedding tears over. Besides, she had learned from Evan that Dumbledore wasn’t truly dead! He had merely left this world due to a magic left behind by Salazar Slytherin, just like how her own clan’s fate had also been sealed by another spell from Slytherin. …

But after knowing the ins and outs of the matter, Elaine had privately asked Evan to confirm: Was it possible that her parents, like Professor Dumbledore, hadn’t really died either? That they had just gone to another world, and would one day return, when the magic ended. …

Facing Elaine, Evan didn’t know how to answer this heavy question.

In the end, he simply repeated what Dumbledore had once said:

Death is not the end, but the beginning of another great journey. Only the most courageous people can go on.

If one day they too embarked on that journey, they would eventually meet them again.

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Hagrid carefully placed the portrait on the middle table, then turned around and retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalized looks from some, including Dolores Umbridge. …

But she had no time to concern herself with Hagrid. Umbridge suddenly let out a high-pitched shriek. Though it was quickly cut off, it still sounded especially jarring amid the solemn, reverent atmosphere of the funeral. Everyone turned their heads to look at her. Her face was particularly pale, as if she had exhausted all her strength in an instant.   

Following Umbridge’s line of sight, Evan turned his head and realized what was going on.

The giant Grawp was wobbling his way out of the Forbidden Forest, waving toward Hagrid.

He hadn’t seen Umbridge, because after her scream, she had quickly turned her head back around. Under the curious gazes of those around her, she gave a forced smile in an attempt to hide her reaction. But the smile was terribly strained and looked quite grotesque. Her face flickered with a tangled expression, a mix of disgust, fear, shock, and embarrassment.

The funeral continued. No one pursued the matter of Umbridge’s outburst. A few Ministry officials merely shook their heads helplessly. Ever since their Senior Undersecretary had returned from Hogwarts last summer, she had been rather… off. Who knew what had triggered her again now?

Hagrid, however, did not return to his original chair. He walked to the back and sat down next to Grawp, who was dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee. His great ugly boulderlike head was bowed. He looked docile, even considerate, as though he understood the meaning of the occasion.

It had to be said, Grawp had indeed improved a great deal since they’d last seen him.

  ……………………………………………………..………………

After Hagrid, Professor McGonagall also stepped forward and placed Dumbledore’s Elder Wand in front of his portrait. At that moment, the music stopped.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore’s portrait, and began to speak. He did not use magic to amplify his voice, and occasionally only a few words floated over hundreds of heads to the back, “nobility of spirit” … “intellectual contribution” … “greatness of heart”. …

This was how Dumbledore was viewed in the eyes of the wider Wizarding world: the greatest wizard in the world, the most powerful White wizard, a scholar of unmatched accomplishments. In countless dark and stormy times in the Wizarding world, it was his presence that upheld the courage of good wizards in their fight against evil.

Dumbledore had become a symbol, a synonym for a great wizard.

But in Hogwarts, in the hearts of students, Dumbledore had always been their approachable Headmaster, a role model they were proud of and learned from, and the white-bearded professor who had invented words like “nitwit,” “oddment,” “blubber,” and “tweak,”…

There was a soft splashing noise from the left, and more and more Merpeople surfaced.

All the Merpeople in the nearby waters had come to the funeral, and they were all listening carefully.

Then, there was a sudden movement in the Forbidden Forest.

The centaurs had come to pay their respects as well. They did not move into the open but stood quite still, half hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides.

Under the hot sun, Evan sighed. Whether Dumbledore had truly died or had merely left this world temporarily because of magic, it made no difference. They had lost their most remarkable protector. The battles ahead would have to be fought on their own.

The little man in black had ended his monotonous and dull speech at last and resumed his seat.

No one else stood up to speak, and no one moved, including the Minister and Professor McGonagall.

Time seemed to stop at this moment, and everyone was waiting silently.

Suddenly, several people screamed.

Bright, white flames had erupted from the tip of the Elder Wand, surging up around Dumbledore’s portrait and the table: Higher and higher they rose, obscuring everything. White smoke spiraled into the air and made strange shapes. For a fleeting moment, people seemed to see a phoenix fly joyfully from the flames into the blue sky, accompanied by the unique cry of the phoenix, but next second the fire had vanished.

In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing everything inside: the portrait, the Wand and the table on which they had been. …

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