Dumbledore's Death
written by Louisa S R W
King Grapa, Queen Eléa and Garit Prince of the Woodland Elves
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
2
Reads
853
His Death
Chapter 1
Late at night, or perhaps more accurately, early in the morning of the 30th June 1997, Professor Albus Dumbledore died. You can read about the last year of his life and my last conversation with him, if you are so inclined. But there was far more to come for me.
On the night he died I went to the Gryffindor Common Room and waited. Our last exam was over and celebrations for the 7th years were happening all over the castle, they had been for quite some time. It was when one of the 4th years ran in and told us there was a dark mark over Hogwarts that people started to panic. Were there death eaters here? Had somebody been killed? If so who?
I had been told to do as I saw fit. To do the right thing. Whatever that meant. At the time it meant keeping people calm and telling them not to panic. That they should stay in their dorms and I would see what was going on. I left prefects in every house in charge but it became clear, when I arrived in the corridors that the situation wasn’t as simple as I would have it.
Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf I would not like to meet in a dark alley, The Carrows, Death Eater after death Eater coming through. It wasn’t the way it should be. Draco knew it I knew it. I had to seal the Vanishing Cabinet, I had to stop more of them coming in. They would have to find another way out.
They fought in the corridors, battled people of the Order of the Phoenix. I couldn’t ask students to fight, but it didn’t stop them. It was confusion, mayhem and delusion for a long time. The Death Eaters were gone but I stayed. If my father asked, I assumed my Uncle would make up an answer. I trusted him.
In the end I don’t know how it all ended, how it all came about. There was a body, shock and people seemed to know that Professor Snape had killed him. Even when you have a year to get used to the news it still seems to hurt.
At breakfast on the 1st of July 1997 I didn’t know what to do. Or indeed what to say. There was an absence, a distinct lack of people. Some were taken by their parents before breakfast and others just during the day. The hush around the room was immense. Snape was the word that echoed around and nobody wanted to look or talk to me. It was hell. Our exams were postponed and I was apprehended by the Minister of Magic about giving a speech for the funeral, I thought it was because I was Head Girl or something but then he looked at me uncomfortably.
On the night he died I went to the Gryffindor Common Room and waited. Our last exam was over and celebrations for the 7th years were happening all over the castle, they had been for quite some time. It was when one of the 4th years ran in and told us there was a dark mark over Hogwarts that people started to panic. Were there death eaters here? Had somebody been killed? If so who?
I had been told to do as I saw fit. To do the right thing. Whatever that meant. At the time it meant keeping people calm and telling them not to panic. That they should stay in their dorms and I would see what was going on. I left prefects in every house in charge but it became clear, when I arrived in the corridors that the situation wasn’t as simple as I would have it.
Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf I would not like to meet in a dark alley, The Carrows, Death Eater after death Eater coming through. It wasn’t the way it should be. Draco knew it I knew it. I had to seal the Vanishing Cabinet, I had to stop more of them coming in. They would have to find another way out.
They fought in the corridors, battled people of the Order of the Phoenix. I couldn’t ask students to fight, but it didn’t stop them. It was confusion, mayhem and delusion for a long time. The Death Eaters were gone but I stayed. If my father asked, I assumed my Uncle would make up an answer. I trusted him.
In the end I don’t know how it all ended, how it all came about. There was a body, shock and people seemed to know that Professor Snape had killed him. Even when you have a year to get used to the news it still seems to hurt.
At breakfast on the 1st of July 1997 I didn’t know what to do. Or indeed what to say. There was an absence, a distinct lack of people. Some were taken by their parents before breakfast and others just during the day. The hush around the room was immense. Snape was the word that echoed around and nobody wanted to look or talk to me. It was hell. Our exams were postponed and I was apprehended by the Minister of Magic about giving a speech for the funeral, I thought it was because I was Head Girl or something but then he looked at me uncomfortably.
