It is the middle of the summer, but there is an unseasonable mist pressing against the window panes. Harry Potter is waiting nervously in his bedroom at the Dursleys’ house in Privet Drive for a visit from Professor Dumbledore himself. One of the last times he saw the Headmaster was in a fierce one-to-one duel with Lord Voldemort, and Harry can’t quite believe that Professor Dumbledore will actually appear at the Dursleys’ of all places. Why is the Professor coming to visit him now? What is it that cannot wait until Harry returns to Hogwarts in a few weeks’ time? Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts has already got off to an unusual start, as the worlds of Muggle and magic start to intertwine…
The ending to this book made me wince. I have always favored the way J.K. Rowling plotted the stories, but this story gave a churn to my stomach. I have never felt this way after reading a book. Especially a Harry Potter book.
All along I have never written a spoiler, but in this book I could not stop myself.
In the end of this book, Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, dies. He drinks poison right in front of Harry Potter. I am astounded how Harry works. Even though it is obvious that Dumbledore will die, Harry tries his hardest to keep him alive. In the end who knew that Draco Malfoy would threaten to kill Albus and Severus Snape kills Albus Dumbledore.
They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. Harry glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the entrance hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.
They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out onto the stone steps from the front doors, toward the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: There was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer’s day.
An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half the chairs; shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not recognize, but a few he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt; Mad-Eye Moody; Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink; Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two and a half chairs on her own; Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron; Arabella Figg, Harry’s squib neighbor, the hairy bass player from the Wizarding group the Weird Sisters; Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley; and some people who Harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog’s Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially on the gleaming air.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. Neville and Luna alone of the D.A. had responded to Hermione’s summons that night, and Harry knew why: They were the ones who had missed the D.A. the most… probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting.