A Funeral, but at Hogwarts

After being hit by "Avada Kedavra," Zhang San split into two parts. His conscious ghost floated beneath the Great Hall's vaulted ceiling, contemplating life, while his unconscious body was sealed in a coffin with magic by Headmaster Dumbledore, awaiting retrieval by people from the East.

Chinese culture placed great importance on returning fallen leaves to their roots. Since soul-reaping envoys from hell lurked outside the castle, Zhang San's soul could not leave Hogwarts Castle. Thus, representatives from the Celestial Masters' Mansion had to cross the ocean and bring Zhang San's body home for burial.

Actually, they could have simply shipped the thing back by courier. But China valued the dead above all else. To show how seriously they regarded Zhang San's death far from home, the Celestial Masters' Mansion broadly invited fellow cultivators from across the land and grandly formed a funeral committee, chartering a plane to Britain to pay their respects.

Though Zhang San was only eleven, he had entered the sect early, so his seniority within the cultivation world was astonishingly high. The fact that the current Celestial Master was his senior brother alone was enough to make people take him seriously.

If this had been the world of Under One Person, Zhang San would have occupied Tian Jinzhong's position. What cultivator in the world wouldn't have given him some face?

The most absurd thing, making Zhang San laugh and cry at once, was that this deceased man had taken on the task of welcoming the Chinese Daoist delegation at Dumbledore's earnest request.

And since his ghost was floating right there, Zhang San's funeral did not even need a portrait. Visitors simply bowed three times to his ghostly form, and that was that.

The following afternoon, the chartered plane carrying sect leaders and elders from China landed in London. They had to travel the rest of the way by road. They had rented seven Iveco minibuses, painted their bodies with azure cloud patterns, and hung flags embroidered with Taiji diagrams from their hoods to show the occasion's importance.

Both Complete Truth and Orthodox Unity had sent representatives to offer condolences. The Supreme Clarity Sect and the Numinous Treasure Sect had both sent purple-robed elders, while quite a few Daoist friends from the Three Mountains and Five Peaks had also come. The seven vehicles carried a total of forty-six people.

The vehicles stopped in the open space before Hogwarts. The moment the doors opened, the Daoist priests bustled out and began pulling things from their spatial bags.

Incense, candles, spirit money, gold ingots... those were still normal enough. But the rest left Zhang San baffled—gongs, big drums, suonas, cymbals, erhus, sanxians, yangqins, wooden fish, shengs...

Were they here to hold a concert at Hogwarts? Sure, the place did look rather like a golden concert hall, but wasn't this a little too unsolemn for a funeral? The dead guy was still floating right here, and they were already about to put on a show. Was that appropriate?

Then Zhang San thought of his own existence and immediately stopped finding it so outrageous. No matter how outrageous a funeral was, it could not possibly be more outrageous than the deceased personally attending it and receiving the guests.

The last thing unloaded was a funeral banner. Four large characters had been written upon it in a bold, heavy hand—"Honor the Dead, Remember the Ancestors." Zhang San took one look through the window and knew that the writing looked extremely imposing from a distance, but was utterly unbearable up close. It was the authentic calligraphy of his senior brother, the Celestial Master.

He really could not understand it. His senior brother was clearly an expert at drawing talismans, so why was he such a disaster when it came to writing? It was truly baffling.

Once the preparations were mostly complete, Zhang Da stepped forward and warmly shook hands with Hogwarts' leadership. As he shook their hands, he said in Chinese, "Our Way has come from afar and disturbed your esteemed school. We ask for your generous understanding as we join together in this solemn occasion."

The interpreter beside him immediately translated Zhang Da's words into English for Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled and welcomed them, while also apologizing to Zhang San's family and friends from China. He admitted that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had failed to protect its student, allowing Zhang San to meet such a tragic death on his very first day.

At that moment, the fun-loving Fat Friar drifted out of the wall and floated over to Zhang San. "Little brother, are all these people here to see you?"

"Yeah, they're elders from back home." Zhang San nodded blankly.

He had not expected his senior brother to make such a huge spectacle of it. It could be said that more than half the important figures in China's Daoist world had come to Hogwarts to hold a funeral for him. Zhang San felt that his prestige was spreading wider and wider, like a pancake being rolled out... So I'm the one with the Face-Face Fruit power?

Honestly, if these big shots formed a party and went after Voldemort, then even if Tom Riddle had chopped his soul into tiny minced bits, these people would dig every last scrap out of the cracks and blast it away with lightning.

Wizards had not studied souls deeply enough, but Daoists had spent thousands of years subduing demons, slaying monsters, catching ghosts, and banishing evil. Voldemort could only throw his weight around in Britain. If he went to the East... the Daoist masters would not even need to come down the mountain. The Buddhist light next door would be enough to shine right through his ass.

Since Buddhism and Daoism were, after all, separated by a layer of affiliation, the Buddhists had not sent representatives abroad to offer condolences. However, none of the proper courtesies had been neglected—hand-copied consecrated sutras, premium incense and candles, fruit offerings, and the like had all been sent, and Zhang Da had packed them into his spatial bag.

Once nearly everyone had gotten out of the vehicles, Zhang San's senior brother Zhang Da—the current Celestial Master of Mount Longhu—gave a soft cough. The Daoist priests immediately took their positions. Those who were to set up the tent set up the tent, those who were to arrange the offerings arranged the offerings, and those who were to light the incense and candles lit the incense and candles... Their division of labor was clear, and their efficiency was incredibly high.

Before long, a large tent had been raised on the lawn before Hogwarts Castle, directly facing the castle gates. A waterproof Oxford-cloth canopy was fitted over an aluminum-alloy frame, with twenty-eight constellation banners planted above it. Color prints of the Ten Kings of Hell hung within, while the Western-style coffin Hogwarts had prepared for Zhang San stood in the center.

Even Zhang San, the owner of the funeral himself, could not help but sigh at the sight. This work... was fucking professional.

Three animal sacrifices, five fruits, and six vegetarian offerings were arranged on the offering table before the coffin. Seeing that the table was still a little empty, Dumbledore discussed it with Zhang Da, then summoned the house-elves and had them roast two suckling pigs in the kitchen to fill things out.

After the roasted suckling pigs were brought over, Zhang San clearly saw Zhang Da secretly tear off a piece of crispy pig skin and stuff it into his mouth. After smacking his lips with great satisfaction, he commented:

"Too much sauce. A bit salty."

Zhang San was nearly angered into losing his soul. Did his senior brother have any sense at all? He even had to sample the dead man's offerings first? Didn't he understand that the dead were to be respected above all else?

Once the preparations were nearly complete, Zhang Da cupped his hands to those around him and said, "I am deeply grateful that all my fellow Daoists have graciously attended my junior brother's funeral. Zhang Da shall remember this in the depths of his heart. The auspicious hour is upon us. May I trouble you all to begin the music."

The old Daoists smiled and began blowing, plucking, playing, and singing. Yet the very first piece shattered Zhang San's composure completely.

Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix could indeed serve as funeral music, but why did the tune these esteemed masters played sound so festive? They did not play a single note of "Phoenix Ascending to Heaven," the mournful movement of the trilogy, and instead went straight into the joyous tune of "Phoenix Rebirth," didn't they?

Please, this was a funeral. Could they be a little more solemn? Anyone who did not know better would think Zhang San was getting married at Hogwarts!

As the Daoist ensemble played, the little mountain of incense, candles, and spirit money began to burn. Although Zhang San had died in a foreign land and would have nowhere to spend the incense and spirit money burned for him, the Daoist masters were all used to spoiling children. Zhang San might have nowhere to spend money, but he absolutely could not be without money in his pocket.

Besides incense, candles, and spirit money, the Daoist priests burned quite a few other good things for Zhang San. Paper cars, horses, and villas; paper golden boys and jade maidens; paper refrigerators, color televisions, washing machines, electric fans, game consoles; paper cigarettes and fine liquor; paper clothes, shoes, and hats... The main principle was that one could be poor in anything, but never in education; endure hardship in anything, but never let the child suffer.

Zhang San had already died outside his homeland. If they could not even provide him with a full set of food, drink, and daily necessities after death, how could these Daoist big shots ever show their faces at meetings again?

When classes ended, Hogwarts students flocked to the nearest windowsills to watch the commotion on the lawn. They had lived this long without ever seeing a Chinese funeral, and today had truly opened their eyes.

Many students were filled with admiration. China truly deserved to be called an ancient civilization; its attitude toward life and death was genuinely open-minded. Even after Zhang San's death, such festive music could be played.

Was this the legendary cultural difference? Learned something, learned something!