CHAPTER SEVEN
And the school bellowed:
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they’re bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we’ve forgot,
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot.”
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the
Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.
Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and
when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do
here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”
The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering
crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry’s
legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full
of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in
the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they
passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden be-
hind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more
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