Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

his forehead but seemed otherwise unscathed by his collapse in Snape’s office. ‘We must follow the established procedures. A decision should not be made hastily.’
    ‘Hagrid, you haven’t said anything,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘What are your views, ought Hogwarts to remain open?’
    Hagrid, who had been weeping silently into his large spotted handkerchief throughout this conversation, now raised puffy red eyes and croaked, ‘I dunno, Professor … that’s fer the Heads of House an’ the Headmistress ter decide …’
    ‘Professor Dumbledore always valued your views,’ said Professor McGonagall kindly, ‘and so do I.’
    ‘Well, I’m stayin’,’ said Hagrid, fat tears still leaking out of the corners of his eyes and trickling down into his tangled beard. ‘It’s me home, it’s bin me home since I was thirteen. An’ if there’s kids who wan’ me ter teach ’em, I’ll do it. But … I dunno … Hogwarts without Dumbledore …’
    He gulped and disappeared behind his handkerchief once more, and there was silence.
    ‘Very well,’ said Professor McGonagall, glancing out of the window at the grounds, checking to see whether the Minister was yet approaching, ‘then I must agree with Filius that the right thing to do is to consult the governors, who will take the final decision.
    ‘Now, as to getting students home … there is an argument for doing it sooner rather than later. We could arrange for the Hogwarts Express to come tomorrow if necessary –’
    ‘What about Dumbledore’s funeral?’ said Harry, speaking at last.
    ‘Well …’ said Professor McGonagall, losing a little of her briskness as her voice shook, ‘I – I know that it was Dumbledore’s wish to be laid to rest here, at Hogwarts –’
    ‘Then that’s what’ll happen, isn’t it?’ said Harry fiercely.
    ‘If the Ministry thinks it appropriate,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘No other headmaster or headmistress has ever been –’
    ‘No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school,’ growled Hagrid.
    ‘Hogwarts should be Dumbledore’s final resting place,’ said Professor Flitwick.
    ‘Absolutely,’ said Professor Sprout.
    ‘And in that case,’ said Harry, ‘you shouldn’t send the students home until the funeral’s over. They’ll want to say –’
    The last word caught in his throat, but Professor Sprout completed the sentence for him.
    ‘Goodbye.’
    ‘Well said,’ squeaked Professor Flitwick. ‘Well said indeed! Our students should pay tribute, it is fitting. We can arrange transport home afterwards.’
    ‘Seconded,’ barked Professor Sprout.
    ‘I suppose … yes …’ said Slughorn in a rather agitated voice, while Hagrid let out a strangled sob of assent.
    ‘He’s coming,’ said Professor McGonagall suddenly, gazing down into the grounds. ‘The Minister … and by the looks of it, he’s brought a delegation …’
    ‘Can I leave, Professor?’ said Harry at once.
    He had no desire at all to see, or be interrogated by, Rufus Scrimgeour tonight.
    ‘You may,’ said Professor McGonagall, ‘and quickly.’
    She strode towards the door and held it open for him. He sped down the spiral staircase and off along the deserted corridor; he had left his Invisibility Cloak at the top of the Astronomy Tower, but it did not matter; there was nobody in the corridors to see him pass, not even Filch, Mrs Norris or Peeves. He did not meet another soul until he turned into the passage leading to the Gryffindor common room.
    ‘Is it true?’ whispered the Fat Lady as he approached her. ‘Is it really true? Dumbledore – dead?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Harry.
    She let out a wail and, without waiting for the password, swung forwards to admit him.
    As Harry had suspected it would be, the common room was jam-packed. The room fell silent as he climbed through the portrait hole. He saw Dean and Seamus sitting in a group nearby: this meant that the dormitory must be empty, or nearly so. Without speaking to anybody, without making eye-contact at all, Harry walked straight across the room and through the door to the boys’ dormitories.
    As he had hoped, Ron was waiting for him, still fully dressed, sitting on his bed. Harry sat down on his own four-poster and, for a moment, they simply stared at each other.
    ‘They’re talking about closing the school,’ said Harry.
    ‘Lupin said they would,’ said Ron.
    There was a pause.
    ‘So?’ said Ron in a very low voice, as though he thought