A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Hermione could not hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of beads. "Nobility of spirit" ... "intellectual contribution" ... "greatness of heart" ... it did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as Hermione had known him; he was a manipulative person, though admittedly a genius and an excellent war wizard.