Breeding Lilacs out of Dead Land.

Chapter 25 – Kaddish.


\"O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.\"

--O Captain! My Captain! Walt Whitman.


Albus Dumbledore\'s last will was simple and short on words. He was a humble person, who owned little, and wanted little. Wishing that he had said everything that needed to be said, in this world, Dumbledore had endowed all of his property to Severus Snape, excluding this or that item he wished to give one of his many acquaintances. The late Headmaster\'s property, it appeared, had consisted of his modest savings; entrusted in a Gringotts\' safe-box, an ancient, cozy town-house in the middle of Hogsmeade, and most of the contents of his office. A Colourless, insipid description of a man who had been so vigorous and vivacious in his life. Albus had also left his funeral arrangements to Snape.

Around them, the Wizarding World was drunk on the sweet poison of victory. Himself, Snape had finally killed the dragon, bringing his daughter back alive. And Albus Dumbledore was dead. War crowned no winners, Snape remembered. That was, indeed, true.

As far as Snape was concerned, Dumbledore had actually Apparated to Malfoy Manor, where he fought side by side with Macmillan, Mad-Eye and Shacklebolt. It was with that knowledge that Snape made his way down into the Riddle House\' dungeons. He was doing his usual work: back in the shadows, Severus Snape was stabbing his enemies in the back and pulling the fine threads of fate, as he was driving slowly but hastily towards his own personal ends.

He wasn\'t ready to encounter Voldemort – the general belief had been that the Dark Lord was fighting the battle at Malfoy Manor. Apparently, the creature was hiding in the shadows, waiting for his pray. They duelled for one long hour, Snape avoiding Crucios and Avada Kedavras and launching some himself, coaxing Voldemort – who fell into the trap of the cruel biting of Snape\'s tongue – to reveal the hiding place of Ginny and Aubrey.

At last, standing in front the dimly lit cell where his child had been locked for the past week, Snape was finally hit with a deadlyciatciatus, the shock wave shoving him against the rotten oak door, breaking the locks open and throwing him on the cold, musty flagstones. He didn\'t see what happened next, his body twisting and writhing in the agony of the Cruciatus – Hermione and Ginny told him later how Aubrey had thrown herself forward to save him, demonstrating the true courage of a Gryffindor –something he probably had never wanted to see. Then, with the sound of the air cracking to allow Albus Dumbledore to materialize inside the low, damp cell, Snape regained his consciousness.

And screamed.

To have it all over, a second afterwards, with both Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle lying dead on the cold, damp-covered stone floor.

With power Snape didn\'t know he acquired, he had forced himself to move, shoved backward by a crying, shivering Aubrey, who crawled into his body, seeking for comfort, safety and warmth.

\"Father…\" she sobbed. \"Daddy…I knew you\'d come to save us.\"

Gaping, Snape closed his arms around the small, quivering body of his daughter, his fingers digging into the worn, dirty cloth of her robe.

\"Are we going home now?\" she asked, her tear-washed face buried in the curve of his shoulder.

\"Soon, child,\" he promised her. \"Soon we\'ll be going home.\"

With Aubrey curled in his arms, refusing to let go, Snape reached the massive hearth in the dining room of Riddle house, Flooing directly into the Three Broomsticks, where an anxious crowd of witches and wizards who hadn\'t participated any of the battles were waiting, sipping their Firewhiskey and Butterbeer and talking nervously. Appearing at the hearth, dirty and wounded as he was, holding the little child in his arms, Severus Snape was overwhelmed immediately by a rain of question. Adjusting his wand, he pointed it toward no one in particular-

\"Any of you who have guts enough may Apparate to Malfoy Manor or Riddle House – now – and help finish the Dark Lord\'s armies. The rest of you, get the fuck out of my way! Before hex you all out of existence! NOW!\"

And what had worked on Hogwarts students for more than twenty years did just fine for the Hogsmeade population. The busy crowd cleared out at once, evacuating a path for the notorious Potions Master of Hogwarts.

Exiting the noisy pub, Snape wasted no time, and headed to the Aurory headquarters, where he could borrow a broomstick. With the Chief Auror\'s permission, he picked a good, reliable racing broom, and securing his still crying daughter, kicked the ground and raced into the clear blue sky.

The castle\'s grounds were still empty, partially covered by the bluish mists that crawled out of the Forbidden Forest; creeping in between the shortly cropped grass stems. Hogwarts itself was so quiet, one could almost believe it lay in a hundred years of magical sleep, with a waking man once again stepping into the castle\'s grounds. Aubrey silent sobs alone had fractured the glassy stillness.

Crossing the wide lawn with the weeping child held in his arms, Snape climbed up the marble staircase, glaring at the Aurors who dared blocking his way and flooding him with questions. Knowing those people were ready to fight and had only stayed in order to protect the castle, he removed the edge of his cloak, slightly uncovering Aubrey\'s face. Allowing the Aurors who remained in Hogwarts one look at his daughter\'s tear-streaked face, Snape had thus let them know the war was indeed, over. Behind him, someone was crying with joy, and the student body was suddenly flowing into the corridors, flooding the hallways and pouring unto the entrance hall. Snape barely noticed them. All that mattered now was to bring the child back to her mother.

The door to his private office, the Golden Eagle\'s claws still marking it, was closed and warded. Seeing that Hermione\'s magic was still somewhat rough and would probably never return to its full extent, it was rather easy for him to lower the wards. Gently, uncoiling one arm from around Aubrey who was quick to crawl deeper into his embrace, Snape pushed the door open and stepped in. There, sitting on the floor on a strange looking pouffe she had conjured, lay his Hermione, curled in a shivering, trembling ball.

Treading softly, yet forcefully enough to make noise that would alert her of their presence, Snape approached the recumbent figure, kneeling beside the small, plump woman who had become inconceivably important to him during the last few months.

\"Hermione,\" he whispered, reaching his hand to remove a stray look off her tear washed, rounded, beautiful face. \"Look at me. I have killed the dragon for you.\"

She blinked – dim light flashing in the tears caught in her damp eyelashes – and turned her face to look at them.

Aubrey, slowly releasing her hold in Snape\'s neck, was looking back at her mother.

\"Aubrey,-\"

\"Mummy,-\"

Carefully, Snape put the child down, watching her bundle herself against her mother\'s lush, full body, small fingers tangling into the tricot of Hermione\'s shirt; her nose stuck against her belly, like a small, lost kitten. No words had been spoken, but when Hermione extended her arms, pulling him into the circle, Snape let himself drop, encompassing both woman and child in his embrace.

Locked in this artificial, mellow, quivering womb, there was no time for grieve or for sorrow. And not for long hours afterwards.

* * *

Hermione was bent on praising her Christian Lord she didn\'t believe in, for a victory he didn\'t win them, just in case she might need his help someday: Snape accepted it quietly. Maybe the woman he loved was somewhere, somehow, partly a Jew –doing things just-in-case; preparing herself for trouble that might, or might not, come.

Being the main and almost only beneficiary of Albus\'s last will was something he hadn\'t expect. It made it impossible for him to give his grief a full expression. Damn you, Albus. Why couldn\'t you just give me one of your many books, which I could take back with me to the Elizabethan manor where I spent my youth, climb up the three flights of stairs and read until there was no longer me and no longer you? But he didn\'t. Instead, the frigging, dead old bastard had loaded Snape with his funeral arrangements.

\"How would you like to bury him, then?\" Hermione asked him, her big, brown eyes full of sadness. She, like him, like so many others, was unable to celebrate the victory properly with the ground still red with the blood of their loved ones. For her, it has been not only Albus Dumbledore, but Ron Weasley too; John Ackart, who had been so kind to her upon first arriving to Hogwarts; a few of her former schoolmates: inhabitants of the castle she had befriended. It was lucky, in some ways, Snape thought, to love only few people. Less people to lose, your heart safer, less fractured.

\"I wouldn\'t like to bury him at all,\" he answered at last, voice strained and icy.

Hermione bit on her lower lip. \"I\'m sorry Severus. Would you like me to take care of the arrangements?\"

\"No. He had left them for me; therefore, I\'ll do it. Not to mention you have enough weighing on your shoulders as it is.\"

\"No more than you,\" she said quietly. \"Well, a proper Wizarding burial ceremony consists of cremation- would you like to do that?\"

Cremation. His guts clenched: he could see a cloud of greyish smoke, smelling of burnt human flesh ascending to touch the cloudless bottom of an expressionless winter sky. Sickened, his pupils widening with horror, Snape turned to stare at her.

\"Oh God!\" realising her mistake, Hermione was now blurting an apology. \"I didn\'t think of that…\"

\"That you didn\'t think,\" he spat, \"seem quite obvious. Now please be quiet, I must think, I can\'t think… Merlin!\" Snape suddenly straightened. \"Very well. I have reached a decision. I will give him a Jewish burial. No coffin. No flowers. No other such nonsense. He came to the world naked, and naked he shall return. What time it is?\" he asked Hermione, who reached for her Muggle wristwatch.

\"Eleven AM. Why are you asking?\"

\"Jewish burial should be immediate and on the spot,\" he said with calm finality of a man who finally reached a resolution. \"According to the Jewish law, we actually had to bury him two days ago, immediately at the end of the battle. But we\'ll bury him now. Would you please notify Minerva and Aberforth Dumbledore of my decision?\" he asked Hermione.

\"Of course I will.\" She had then moistened her lips, swallowing. \"I know you won\'t like to hear that, but I… think you made the right decision. I think Albus would have approved of it.\"

Snape nodded. \"Thank you.\"

\"You\'re always welcome, Severus. I love you.\"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore\'s funeral was held on a chilly, dull, spring afternoon. The sky was soft and cloudless: a pale, whitish grey, as if rich milk had been poured into a fist of storm clouds.

The funeral, by Severus Snape\'s request, was small and humble. Earlier that week, Minerva McGonagall, now Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had given a speech to the public, in which she had spoken about Albus Dumbledore the warrior, Albus Dumbledore the great wizard, the wizened Headmaster and the clever, sensitive leader.

This event was altogether different.

Albus Dumbledore\'s last resting place was located on the edges of the Hogwarts ground, on the top of a hill, under a low, ancient olive tree, just where the bluish mists drifting from the Forbidden Forest could reach it on rainy days. Gathering in front of a hole which had only recently been dug in the ground – earth spilling beside it like fresh blood – was a small assembly. All of whom were people Albus Dumbledore had known, cherished and loved. Amongst them were his long time friend, former Auror Alastor Moody, who lost his left arm in the last battle; Minerva McGonagall, who had been his Deputy and taught students by his side for more than fifty years now; Maggie Macmillan, whom Albus Dumbledore loved like a daughter; Harry Potter, the boy the late Headmaster had been protecting since babyhood. And a few others as well.

Severus Snape, his black robes ripped on the shoulder, supported by his lover, Hermione Granger, who was dressed in a similar manner, was standing in front of that small gathering, holding a small prayer book. The rushing wind was disheveling his hair – which he had chosen not to cover – playing mercilessly with the raven locks. Eyes unblinking, he turned his gaze to the body of Albus Dumbledore, wrapped in a white, linen shroud, who was lying on a narrow stretcher alongside the open grave. Then he cleared his throat, fixing his eyes at the prayer book.

\"Yeetgadal ve\'yeetkadash she\'mah rabbah.\"

\"Amen.\" Hermione Granger\'s sweet, high-pitched voice, had echoed clearly after the low, beautiful baritone of the man on her side. Rising her head, she signed for the rest of the mourners to do the same.

Hesitantly, the members of the crowd had followed Hermione\'s example.

Snape swallowed. \"B\'almah dee v\'rah kheer\'utah, v\'yamleekh malkhutah, b\'chahyeykhohn, uve\'yohmeykhohn, ba\'agalah u\'veez\'man karev, ve\'eemru: Amen.\"

This time, the response was somewhat quicker, still awkward, as not few people were left wondering as the strange, raw words, strangely pronounced by the Hogwarts Potions Master. The crowd was echoing \"Amen,\" several eyes brimming with tears, responding to a prayer, which meaning they did not know.

At that, Hermione took the small prayer book in her slightly trembling hands, silently asking for the attendees\' attention. Her big, expressive eyes were washed with bare sorrow. \"Please follow me,\" she said quietly, leaning to read from the little black book. \"Amen,\" Hermione read, her voice loud and clear, \"May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.\"

\"Amen. May His great Name be blessed forever and ever,\" the attendees echoed her words.

Nodding, Hermione Granger passed the smallish, black book back to Snape, who shifted a stray lock out of his gaunt, stern face. \"May His great Name be blessed forever and ever,\" he read. \"Baruch Hu, beyond any blessing and song, praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. Now respond: Amen.\"

\"Amen,\" uttered the mourners.

Snape continued. \"May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life, upon us and upon all Israel. He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace, upon us and upon all Israel. Now respond: Amen.\"

\"Amen.\"

The tall, redheaded wizard, who stood silently beside Minerva McGonagall during the Kaddish, had removed a worn out leather bag from his left shoulder, taking out an ancient bagpipes out of the shabby looking sac.

Bringing the mouthpiece to his lips, he played a long, hollow note. The cry swept through the Hogwarts ground, rising the above the peaceful surface of the Great Lake and climbing up to the summit of the Astronomy tower, where it dissolved into the clear cloudless sky.

The bagpipes kept on weeping their sad, timeless tune, while Albus Dumbledore\'s body was lowered into the earth and covered with earth, and stones, not flowers, were adorning his last resting place.

* Anyone who\'s interested can find the full version of the mourner\'s Kaddish in this address: http://www.jewfaq.org/prayer/kaddish.htm. The Kaddish, which is the Jewish prayer for the dead, mostly consists on repeated glorifying of the Lord, and doesn\'t have much to do with the event involved, i.e: funeral. That is, because the Kaddish is actually acknowledgment of God\'s eternal grace and goodness, although the suffering the mourners are currently experiencing. Myself, I chose to shorten the prayer as it brought in the story, for this reason as well as the actual wording irrelevance to the plot. However, atheistic as I may be, I have the utmost respect to my ancestor\'s traditions and their struggle over the centuries to stick with their religious identity, and can think of no better way to depart from my loved ones than with Kaddish.

As to the Kaddish practicalities: it is the prayer the closest male relative supposed to recite for his late parent/loved-one, and is traditionally recited by the firstborn son. Being one of the more important prayers, the Kaddish is said in the presence a quorum, meaning: a crowd of ten men. Being good Jews, they would, of course, cover their heads and wear a praying shawl. Since my Snape is not a good Jew and is merely following an ancient tradition in a secular manner, I didn\'t find it necessary to stick to the mundane practicalities of the more orthodox, or even of those who have more knowledge of the subject.

The transcript of the Kaddish you\'ll find in my story is also relatively different than most of the transcript you\'ll find over the net. The reason to that is my choice to use the Sephardic diction of the Hebrew language –the diction currently used in Israel, which is more Semitic and therefore probably closer to the original Hebrew\'s diction, rather than the Ashkenazic diction that American and European Jews use.

~ BTW- the most accurate diction of the Hebrew language currently used, is the Yemeni. I am incapable of it, lacking the ability to pronounce laryngeal sounds properly, but it\'s relatively much closer to the Sephardic diction than to the Ashkenazic one.