Mr Moody, Tonks, and Professor Lupin had gone to fetch Harry from Privet Drive and escort him to the service; Moody and Tonks still flanked him, sitting on either side, but Professor Lupin -- she couldn't seem to stop thinking of him as "Professor Lupin" even though he wasn't a teacher anymore -- was sitting up in the front row with the others who would be giving eulogies. Hermione had briefly considered asking Tonks and Moody if they would let her and Ron sit beside Harry, but as soon as she had seen him, she had known Harry was in one of his moods, the sullen set of his mouth speaking volumes, and she had decided against it, thinking their presence would be neither welcome nor a comfort. It usually wasn't when he got like that.
There were others from the Order in attendance whom she recognized, and most of the Hogwarts staff as well, especially the older teachers who had known Sirius as a student. There was a small cluster of people in the back who looked bored, uncomfortable, resentful, or a combination of all three, and by the way Fudge greeted them as he made his way up the center aisle, she guessed they were Ministry officials whom Fudge had coaxed or threatened into attending to make it look good.
Everything about the occasion was set up for that effect, she thought scathingly. The entire room felt like a set for an elaborate production with Fudge, not Sirius, as the center of attention. He was desperate, scrambling to mend the tattered remnants of his reputation by any means possible, and it was obvious. Even Ron figured it out, which meant Fudge was doing nothing but making a laughingstock of himself to anyone with a seed of discernment. The only good thing about it was that the press weren't allowed to attend the service; they had to wait outside if they wanted any photos taken or questions answered, and Hermione had a feeling that Professor Dumbledore had had a hand in that decision. The last thing they needed was for Harry to blow up at a reporter in the middle of the service when the Prophet was finally backing off all the nasty rumors and gossip it had printed about him for a year.
There were others from the Order in attendance whom she recognized, and most of the Hogwarts staff as well, especially the older teachers who had known Sirius as a student. There was a small cluster of people in the back who looked bored, uncomfortable, resentful, or a combination of all three, and by the way Fudge greeted them as he made his way up the center aisle, she guessed they were Ministry officials whom Fudge had coaxed or threatened into attending to make it look good.
Everything about the occasion was set up for that effect, she thought scathingly. The entire room felt like a set for an elaborate production with Fudge, not Sirius, as the center of attention. He was desperate, scrambling to mend the tattered remnants of his reputation by any means possible, and it was obvious. Even Ron figured it out, which meant Fudge was doing nothing but making a laughingstock of himself to anyone with a seed of discernment. The only good thing about it was that the press weren't allowed to attend the service; they had to wait outside if they wanted any photos taken or questions answered, and Hermione had a feeling that Professor Dumbledore had had a hand in that decision. The last thing they needed was for Harry to blow up at a reporter in the middle of the service when the Prophet was finally backing off all the nasty rumors and gossip it had printed about him for a year.
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