The sun was setting. Candlelight flickered in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but it held none of its usual warmth. The atmosphere was stifling.
Students from all three schools sat in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. At the staff table, the professors said nothing.
A few students were just as silent. At the Gryffindor table, Harry sat wrapped in bandages, grief etched across his face. Hermione and Ron sat beside him, with Fred and George nearby. None of them spoke. Their expressions were grim.
Neville sat with Seamus. His eyes were red; he had clearly been crying.
That afternoon, Harry had told the members of the High Tower what had happened. Now a heavy silence hung over them all.
Even Ginny kept her head down, her hands twisted together so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
At the Slytherin table, Malfoy sat motionless. Pansy Parkinson looked at him as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she only pressed her lips together and turned away.
Sylvia was absent.
Luna sat with Michael. Neither showed their usual spark. They only stared blankly at Dumbledore at the staff table.
At the Hufflepuff table, Hannah stared at the cup in front of her.
Cedric looked stricken with worry. As a member of the High Tower, he already knew what had happened to Will, and the thought tormented him. If he had been the one to take the Triwizard Cup, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
He might have held out for a while. He came from a Wizarding family, so perhaps Voldemort would not have treated him so cruelly. Like Harry, he might have survived until Dumbledore arrived.
Most of the other students whispered without pause. The Great Hall sounded as though countless mosquitoes were circling overhead.
The