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Bad News
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 11-11-12 15:27
Bronwyn clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "Let's get all the girls together. We can leave the boys behind to babysit and do whatever it is that boys do when they don't have their women around."
Desi actually laughed. "I think you might be opening up a can of worms."
"Eww. Can you imagine?"
"Ever been fishing, Bron?"
"Of course not," she replied. She headed inside with Desi trailing behind her and a large owl neither had previously seen following behind them both. The brownish-blackish bird created a gust of wind strong enough to rustle Bronwyn's and Desi's hair and to startle them both.
It deposited a letter on the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the living area and then landed on the back of the couch, where it gazed at them expectantly.
"I think it wants you to feed it," Bronwyn told Desi, as she walked to the counter and picked up the envelope. It was addressed to Karma.
"Why do you think it wants me to feed it?" Desi asked, going into the kitchen to find something suitable for the owl.
Bronwyn yelled, "Karma! You've got owl post!" To Desi she answered, "Because it was looking at you."
Desi emerged with leftover chicken wings and held it out in front of the owl's beak. It snatched it up, nearly taking one of her fingers with it, and then launched itself off the couch.
"Thanks for that," she told Bronwyn.
Bronwyn beamed at her and handed Karma the envelope when Karma emerged from her bedroom looking a bit flushed. "It's probably my mother harping on me about marrying an Indian wizard instead of living in sin with someone not of my family's culture." She rolled her eyes and ripped open the letter.
She read it rather quickly. Bronwyn and Desi both noticed Karma's face fall.
"Is everything okay?" Bronwyn asked.
Karma shook her head and wordlessly handed over the letter. Bronwyn and Desi read it together. They exchanged glances. None of them had expected this.
"We should tell everybody," Bronwyn murmured. "They'll want to know."
"Not in front of the kids," Desi advised. She took the letter from Bronwyn, looking at the handwriting anyone who had ever gotten a letter from Hogwarts recognized. It was in Professor McGonagall's handwriting and signature green ink. She had written to inform Karma that Professor Dumbledore had died.
Dumby's Dead
Author: Lucius Malfoy
Date: 11-11-12 20:43
A house elf answers Lucius knock, pointing him in the direction from which an odd sound echoes down the hall into the entrance. "Mistress is there."
The closer he gets to what passes for Bellatrix's sitting room, the more distinctive the noise becomes. Standing in the doorway, Lucius watches Bellatrix dancing around in glee, cackling hysterically. Her antics put him in mind to her crazed demeanor when first escaped from Azkaban.
Skirting around the prancing woman he joins Barty on a couch. "How long has she been like this?"
"Since the news broke. If not for muffling charms I wouldn't have had any sleep in the meantime."
"Why are you even sitting in here?"
"It's amusing in small doses and the house elves and I have bets going on how long she can keep up this energy level."
Bellatrix's gyrations bring her directly in front of the couch. She shoves an Italian newspaper in Lucius's face. "Dumby's dead!" This is followed by more of the maniacal laughter and a giddy pirouette that takes her the opposite direction.
"You realize, Barty, this is nothing compared to how she'd be if she'd killed him herself." Lucius pauses then asks, "She didn't do it, did she?"
"Not as far as I know and I think she'd be gloating about that if she had."
"My thought as well."
Bellatrix, now stuck on the, "Dumby's dead," mantra is skipping around the room. On her fourth pass she adds another line. "Dumby's dead. Potter's next."
Lucius quickly tires of watching so gets up to leave. There's no point in staying if Bellatrix is this wound up. "Want to come, Barty?"
"Merlin, yes!"
They are halfway down the hall when Bellatrix's cackled chanting grows louder. "Pretend you haven't notice," Lucius advises.
Barty had been of the same mind but suddenly has an urge to look and see what she's doing now. As soon as he does, Bellatrix rushes up to them, grabbing each by the hand. "You have to help me pick something for the funeral. I was thinking black but I could be persuaded to wear another color. You know, something like deep, dark grey."
Lucius attempts to pull his hand free as he asks, "You plan to go to the funeral?"
"Isn't that a given?"
"Nooo. I can't say it crossed my mind you'd be entertaining the idea of going."
"Attending Dumby's funeral has moved to the top of my bucket list."
"Bucket list?"
"A list of things to do before I die. You have a young child, Lucius. You really need to keep up with the times better for her sake. Who shall you go as?"
"Me?"
"Of course you, don't be daft. You can't not go."
"Yes, I can. I stay home. Easy as that."
"But you will miss the grand send off."
"I am fine with that."
"You have become a stick in the mud. Here we are, which of these outfits is best for celebrating Dumby?"
Until then Lucius had not realized Bellatrix still had hold of his hand and has moved them into a room where she's got a number of outfits on display. He also realizes Barty is not with them. "Where did " he starts to ask only to have Bellatrix cut him off. "To the loo. Do pay attention, Lucius. You can't be my escort as that might give you away no matter who you escort. I have decided it will be acceptable for you to attend with someone else."
"You're giving me permission to take a date to a funeral?"
"Not just anyone, but yes, if you must put it quite like that."
"You will not let this lie, will you, Bellatrix?"
"I have made up my mind I am going at myself and you are going as someone else. Barty, also in disguise, will be my escort. It's only right for him to attend when it's because of Dumby he was given the Dementor's Kiss. And Potter but he's not dead. Yet."
Lucius brow crinkles. "It was my understanding that it was the doing of Cornelius Fudge."
"Semantics but let's not nitpick. Help me pick something to wear. Or, do you think I should have something new made. I could always use more black in my wardrobe."
"How about I have some things sent from Narcissa's for you to try?"
"Excellent idea!"
"I shall go take care of that right now." He leaves unsaid that he also needs to send an owl to Cloris Mockridge to take her up on an offer she made. If Bellatrix keeps pushing for him to attend the funeral of Albus Dumbledore, he may want somewhere to stay for a night rather than apparating from St. Tropez and back again in a single day.
Barty is nowhere in sight as Lucius makes his way back to the house's entrance hall. Not wanting to wait for Barty to decide it's safe to show his face again, Lucius leaves without the other man, trying to remember what in hell had brought him here today in the first place.
Funeral
Author: Jolyon
Date: 11-12-12 10:26
The day dawned bright and sunny. Near the lake, the surface of which reflected a shimmering gold, were arranged rows of white folding chairs. They were divided by a single aisle, which led to a marble pedestal on which the body of Albus Dumbledore lay. He looked serene in flowing purple robes with silver stars and moons on them.
Jolyon paid his respects and then filed into the fourth row. He wore midnight blue robes, which were too warm for the summer weather, but suited the solemn occasion. They were so dark they almost seemed black, which was the traditional color of mourning.
The white folding chairs rapidly filled with mourners. Jolyon saw many of his fellow staff members and quite a few students in attendance. It had already been decided that a memorial service for all students would take place sometime after the start of term, allowing those not able to attend the funeral to get a chance to say a formal goodbye to Professor Dumbledore.
Jolyon saw many more people not associated with Hogwarts. Some were Ministry officials, like the Minister himself.
Eventually the line to pay respects to Dumbledore dispersed, and everybody who could find a seat took one. A small, tufty-haired wizard stepped in front of the marble pedestal and spoke in a clear, singsong voice.
"We are here to honor the life and legacy of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"
Different Perspectives
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 11-12-12 11:56
Berthold Beatenberg stares at the Austrian newspaper open on his desk. There is a small article, set between one on an annual crup show in England and another on last minute holiday deals to the Mediterranean coast, about the death of Albus Dumbledore. The article interests Berthold for several reasons. A) Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, the dark wizard Berthold himself had served more than half a century ago. B) Dumbledore's death followed that of Grindelwald's. Is it possible that the person behind Grindelwald's death also killed Dumbledore? And if so, why? Grindelwald and Dumbledore had very different agendas. To kill one and then the other makes no sense.
Berthold feels puzzled, but at the same time he does feel elated. At last, there is some justice for Grindelwald's defeat…
---
Fritz and Coco sit side-by-side somewhere in the middle of all the white folding chairs arranged on the banks of the Black Lake. It's a beautiful day, which seems in sharp contrast to the reason they are at Hogwarts today. In Fritz's mind, the weather ought to be miserable. Cold and rainy, perhaps.
The ceremonial official tells a little about Dumbledore's life, from his childhood, to his time at Hogwarts first as a student and then as a teacher. Dumbledore's many accomplishments are given. It becomes even more obvious to everybody present that they have lost one of the greatest wizards who ever lived.
Fritz holds Coco's hand. Neither are crying, at least not yet, but there are a few guests in attendance who are sniffling into handkerchiefs. Hagrid, near the front of the audience, is sobbing quite loudly. His whole body shakes, causing the chairs and occupants on either side of him to quiver.
While he listens to the official eulogize Dumbledore, Fritz thinks about his own impressions of his old headmaster. He doesn't ever remember a time when he and Dumbledore really had a conversation beyond hello and a few friendly words. Fritz is a little sorry about that, but he supposes it was impossible for Dumbledore to really get to know every student who walked through the doors of Hogwarts.
Fritz has no doubt that Dumbledore knew him well-enough, though. Dumbledore always seemed to know everything about everybody.
One thing Fritz knew for sure was that Dumbledore would be greatly missed.
What to Expect
Author: Rowan Westwick
Date: 11-12-12 12:28
Rowan thumbed through her school books. In a few weeks, she would be attending Hogwarts again, after an absence of 26 years. She wondered what it would be like. Would the castle look the same? Would she remember where to find her classrooms? Would it be strange seeing professors she remembered from back then, who had aged in the meantime where she had not?
What would Hogwarts be like without Dumbledore?
He had been headmaster when Rowan had first attended Hogwarts. She remembered him well, no doubt because even then he had been a figure of great importance. It bothered her to know that he had been killed, despite the fact that she knew he probably had lots of enemies. She was beginning to wonder if the world she had woken up into was no better than the one she had left behind.
Rowan remembered how frightening that time had been, not only for those with less desirable lineages, but also families like hers who had turned their backs on the Dark Lord. Snubbing Lord Voldemort was what had put the Westwick family into their predicament. Rowan thought about her missing family members and wondered if they would ever be reunited.
She looked up when she saw Willow standing in the doorway to her bedroom.
"Hey," Rowan said. "You can come in."
Willow entered and sat down on the corner of Rowan's bed. "Do you think we should have gone to the funeral? I read about it in the paper this morning."
Rowan shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like we're really far removed from all of that, you know?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Maybe if we had been at school this past year…" She trailed off, no doubt thinking the same thing as Rowan. Maybe if we had been at school this past year instead of cursed nesting dolls.
"Maybe we can go to the house today," Rowan suggested.
Westwick Grove looked vastly improved. All the debris had been removed and properly disposed of. The house looked clean, and was free of pests like doxies and mice. Now all it needed was repainting and refurnishing.
"I like that we are restoring it," Willow said, "but I wonder for what purpose if there's no guarantee we'll ever live there again."
Rowan frowned. "There's no guarantee that we won't," she said. "Besides, it's our family home. Even if we don't live there again, I'd rather it look pretty and habitable than the rundown shack it became while we were lost."
Willow couldn't disagree. Instead, she got up and went to the window. It was open and let in a slight breeze. "It's a nice day out. Maybe we should go for a walk."
Rowan shut her book and got up. "I'm ready now, if you want to go."
Willow turned away from the window and cut across the room to the door. "I'll let Elgiva know we're stepping out for a little while, though maybe she'd like to come along."
Rowan shut her window and then followed her sister out of the room. A nice walk in the fresh air was just what she needed to clear her head of bad thoughts and worries.
On Duty
Author: Griffin Price
Date: 11-12-12 13:10
When told he was going to be on as extra security for the funeral of Albus Dumbledore, Griffin had not protested or complained. Though his only time at Hogwarts had been as an undercover operative when Euphemia Smythe-Jones had a finger in the covert ops department where Griff was employed, he'd grown to like and respect the Hogwarts headmaster.
With the potential for nutcases to come out of the woodwork, intent on stirring up trouble or making some sort of anti-Dumbledore statement during the service, or some sort of over hysterical show of grief more for attention than any true remorse over the loss of a wizard known the world over, a strong law enforcement detail is definitely needed. Better to have them there and the funeral be peaceful with nothing untoward than to have few if any security present and have things go horribly wrong. With as many present, both highly visible to the attendees as law enforcement and seeded through the crowd as mourners, which many are in actuality even if not openly showing it, the idea is to cut off any trouble before it gets out of hand.
All this thinking about dark arts supporters and barmy loons put Griff in mind of his uncle for some reason. Jacob had recently written requesting him to visit. Griff can't decide if he will make the trip to Azkaban or not. While he has no desire to ever see the man in person again, he is curious as to why Jacob would want him to pay a visit.
Noticing someone in the very back row producing a wand from a pocket has Griff casually drifting that way, a hand on his own wand ready to spring into action if needed. He relaxes when the woman uses her wand to freshen her handkerchief, wand going back in her pocket as she dabs her eyes and loudly sniffles.
Eyes back to scanning for potential problems, Griff tries not to get lost in thought. If something is going to happen, he needs to be on full alert and not thinking about things like getting to know Carys here at Hogwarts because of that undercover mission.
Fidgeting at a Funeral
Author: Valeria Mockridge
Date: 11-12-12 14:55
Valeria wrinkled her nose. She didn't like attending funerals, and this one, for a wizard she'd never even met, was worse. But she had to come. Nephele didn't like to leave her with the house elves and both Kirley and her grandmother would be attending. She glanced down at the dark grey dress robes Nephele had insisted on putting her into, her black shoes polished and shining even with the rain spatter. She hadn't been paying much attention to the service, preferring instead to look out toward the Lake or up toward the Castle, thinking of how soon it would be before she'd be starting her first year.
She glanced up at her aunt beside her, noticing how Nephele seemed distracted as well. Nephele's dress robes were almost a dark silver, a hint of green showing in the trim. But her aunt's eyes were roving over the crowd as well, as if she was looking for someone. But that wasn't like Nephele...
Shaking her head, she tried to ignore it, looking up at Kirley on her other side, in his plain black robes with the Ministry crest, signifying his employment there, while other details showed that he worked in the Minister's office itself. But he looked distracted as well, though what had him puzzled was clear enough to see, even to his eleven year old niece.
Valeria's gaze followed his, landing on her grandmother, who was sitting nearby but not with the family. Cloris was next to a rather dashing looking male, who didn't look like anyone she knew, but something about him felt familiar. She shrugged, looking at the two who sat with Cloris and her mysterious escort and the rather pointed way the other female ignored her grandmother. It was odd, but then, it was Cloris.
She had been told she wasn't to visit the Dower House this week, though she'd heard Cloris telling Kirley that was a lot of nonsense and that Valeria would be in no danger from her guest or his frequent companions. She hadn't heard much more, Nephele had been calling her for dinner, but none of it made sense to the young girl. She certainly didn't understand who it was that Cloris had opened the Dower House to. Something in the officiant's voice draws her attention once more and she shifts in her chair, attempting to listen to more words about a wizard she'd only heard speak of, and not always in the most flattering of ways.
Making the Best of Bad News
Author: Karma Davyd
Date: 11-12-12 15:03
The letter from Professor McGonagall had sent alerting her to the death of Albus Dumbledore arrived about the time that all of us girls were going to go out and go shopping, leaving the boys to their own devices.
However that was put on hold for a little while while the adults had a conversation, after ensuring the room was muffled so that they couldn't listen in.
"I received a letter from Minerva, Professor McGonagall, informing me of a tragedy that has struck Hogwarts and all of the Wizarding world. Albus Dumbledore has died. More importantly, he has been murdered. The timetables today, but there will be a memorial after the start of term for those that could not attend."
We talked for a little while and ultimately, we decided to continue on with our plan to go shopping because we would only be here for another day or so.
"I am seriously in need of some retail therapy, and something to try and shake myself out of this funk that the letter put me in.." I said with a sigh and ran a hand through my hair as we started going through some of the best shopping areas near where they were staying.
Within several hours Bronwyn, Ember and I had several bags each of clothes, jewelry, and other things. Even Fallon and Desire had picked a few things for themselves. We currently had hit a show store and I found a couple of awesome boots. I had also managed to grab a gift for Desi for her birthday at the end of the month.
"When do you think we should head back to the boys, and do you think that the beach house is still standing?" I asked as we indulged in a late lunch at a nice little café.
"We can give them a couple more hours and hit another couple of stores, unless you all are ready to head back..." Bron said, looking to Desi who was the least likely to enjoy extended time shopping.
The Grump
Author: Harry Potter
Date: 11-12-12 17:32
Anyone seeing the frown on Harry's face would most likely attribute it to unhappiness over Albus Dumbledore's death. They might think the frown represents Harry's effort to not show emotion, to not cry as Dumbledore's many accomplishments are read, as a moving eulogy is presented, as friends get up to speak in praise of a wizard who impacted their lives in some way or another. They would be partially right.
Harry is deeply grieving for the man who was the only grandfatherly figure in his life, who was a mentor, a friend. He has been since arriving at Hogwarts to learn that this wizard he held in such high esteem was dead. Since that recent night Harry's also been angry. Angry at whomever had killed the greatest wizard the world had ever known. Angry at Kingsley Shacklebolt for shutting him out of the investigation. Angry that the Minister would no doubt carry through on his threat to lock Harry away if he did not desist with the harassment to be included. Angry that he could not even be part of the funeral's security detail.
Harry had gone to Kingsley to make the request, considering it a separate issue from the begging to be put on the investigating team. Before he'd even gotten the question out Kingsley had shaken his head. "No, absolutely not. Just go to grieve. Be a pallbearer if they require it of you."
The following day he'd been summoned to the Minister of Magic's office. Harry had hoped that meant he was about to be told he could be part of the funeral security detail or, better yet, included in the investigation. Instead, Kingsley just angered Harry more. The Minister had cut right to the heart of the matter. "We have a suspect, Harry. Adriana Fairchild."
"As in my cousin Adriana."
"Yes."
"There must be a mistake, the murderer picking someone to take the blame."
"I'm sorry, there is no mistake."
"Why her? Is there a witness? Who?"
"You know I cannot divulge that information."
Harry had left in an even fouler mood. Ginny has taken to calling him The Grump. He doesn't think he's been that bad around her but last night she threw up her hands and said enough. "I am trying to keep in mind that Professor Dumbledore's death has hit you hard and you are frustrated at not being allowed to locate his killer, but this is ridiculous. Fix your own damn dinner. I'm going to my parents'."
Harry didn't see her again until this morning when she'd come home to get ready for the funeral. Now, sitting next to her, her hand in his, and surrounded by the large Weasley clan, Harry feels extremely isolated and, he has to admit to himself, more than a little grumpy.