Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn’t do anything,
I was under the Invisibility Cloak — and then Malfoy came through the
door and disarmed him —”
Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned. Luna’s
mouth trembled.
“— more Death Eaters arrived — and then Snape — and Snape did it.
The Avada Kedavra.” Harry couldn’t go on.
Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except
Ginny, who whispered, “Shh! Listen!”
Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes
wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry
had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt,
as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not
without: It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across
the grounds and through the castle windows.
How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it
seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but
it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor
McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent
battle: There were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped.
“Molly and Arthur are on their way,” she said, and the spell of the music
was broken: Everyone roused themselves as though coming out of trances,
turning again to look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes, shake their heads.
“Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor
Dumbledore when he — when it happened. He says Professor Snape was
involved in some —”
“Snape killed Dumbledore,” said Harry.
She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam Pomfrey,
who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring a
chair from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall.
“Snape,” repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. “We all
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