Relations, Revelations

Horribly sorry for the lack of updates. I\'ve been dreadfully busy with school and papers and all sorts of crap. You know how it goes. Also, this is the last chapter I\'ve completed. Like I said, the rest are all plotted out and ready to be written, but they aren\'t. Good news is that I\'ve been accepted to attend the University of Heidelberg in Germany next year! So, since I won\'t be working anywhere, I\'ll have time to write out some of the plot bunnies that have plagued me. Anyway, on with the story. Relish it, because an update might not come until early May... cross your fingers for me.

Harry’s POV sort of. Not really going for quality. Just trying to show what a daze Harry’s in as he’s going through the motions. Short, somber chapter.

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Chapter 29 - Goodbye

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Friday morning arrived in stereotypical funeral fashion. Gray clouds hung low in the skies over northern England, wind blew furiously at the windows, and rain poured down in sheets, landing in harmonious splishes, splashes, pitters, and patters on the roof of the Burrow. Harry crawled out of his foldaway at the foot of Ron’s bed, pulled his glasses on, and pulled his blanket even tighter around his shoulders to fight off the early March chill. The lanky redhead snored loudly nove fve feet away. Mrs. Weasley bustled in looking emotionally exhausted, draped Ron and Harry’s dress robes over a chair, and bustled back out. One of the twins walked past in the corridor half dressed, though Harry couldn’t tell which one through his still-bleary eyes. Mr. Weasley followed, trying to hand the twin a tie while straightening his own. Another twin flashed by the door wearing only a towel. The first twin said something obscene to the second twin, oh, right, that was George in the towel, and Hermione came bolting down the corridor. She stopped in front of Ron’s door, hands on her hips, and shouted something twice as obscene at Fred.

Harry faintly heard water running somewhere nearby, then Ginny belting the lyrics to the latest Weird Sisters tune. Hermione entered Ron’s bedroom, greeted Harry, and shook Ron awake. He just mumbled something, turned over, and pulled his pillow over his head. She motioned to Harry, who crawled out of his foldaway and stumbled to her side. In one swift motion, the two of them had the blanked pulled back, the pillow pulled off, and the mattress flipped off the bed, leaving a half-awake and fully-agitated Ron sprawled out on the floor. Harry pulled his bathrobe on, leaving Hermione to berate Ron for being a lazy bum, and reminding him that he only had another hour to get ready.

The singing and running water stopped, and Harry padded down the hallway to wait his turn for the bathroom. Minutes later Ginny exited, wrapped in a large orange towel, a purple one perched atop her head. He leaned in for a kiss, but Ginny pulled away, twisting her face at his morning breath. He shrugged, closed the door, peeled off his pajamas, and got in the shower, reveling in the hustle and bustle of a large family getting ready for the day. He eventually got back out, pulled a blue towel out of the tall fluffy pile, and went back to Ron’s room to dress.

Fully decked out in his finest dress robes, Harry made his way down the stairs and into Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen. Father and Daughter Snape sat at the long wooden table, silently eating their eggs and sausages. The three exchanged pleasantries, and Harry joined them for his breakfast. Ginny and Hermione arrived shortly thereafter, each only taking a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast. At long last, Ron stumbled down in his new dress robes, hair a wet mess. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and finally after allowing the sweet caffeine to penetrate his veins, offered his girlfriend a kiss while Harry distracted her father with a question.

Mrs. Weasley summoned her brood and the guests to the sitting room, where they each grabbed their umbrellas and a pinch of floo powder, and headed off to Godric’s Hollow Cemetery.

The weather in Godric’s Hollow was just as miserable as it had been at the Burrow, and the Weasleys, Snapes, Harry, and Hermione wrapped themselves even tighter into their robes. They greeted the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had gathered to say farewell to their fallen member, and situated themselves around the grave. Hermione cast a waterproofing charm on herself and George, Harry and Ginny got cozy under an umbrella, and Ron and Sephera clung to each other for warmth.

Six wizard pallbearers carried Charlie’s coffin out onto the green, placing it carefully over the resting place. Formalities and wizarding customs ensued, which Harry would normally have been fascinated with, but he was so wrapped up in the sadness of the situation that he completely missed the 21 Wand Salute and the lone dragon that silently passed overhead. Dumbledore made his usual long speech, but it was drowned out by Harry’s own somber thoughts. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and two wizards slowly began covering it with wet earth. The Order offered their condolences to the Weasleys as Harung ung back, left to his own melancholy feelings.

“Harry?” He spun around quickly, shaken from his silent trance.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Harry blindly followed, not knowing precisely where he was being led. Severus took his customary long strides across the lawn, and down a narrow rosebush-lined path to a small white arbor in a corner of the cemetery. He motioned for Harry to enter, but remained by the entrance.

An angel of carved ivory-colored marble stood on a golden pedestal in the middle of the arbor with a simple gold plaque at its base:

James & Lily Potter – 1957-1981
Loved By Many, Lost Too Soon, Sacrificed So Much

Behind the statue was a small shrine that was graced by a plaque of farewell messages from the Potter’s friends. Harry’s fingers traced its surface as a tear trickled down his cheek. He read Dumbledore’s, Lupin’s, Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys’ messages, slowly realizing that neither Sirius nor Severus had left messages. It made sense. Sirius was on the run, and Severus was still in Voldemort’s inner circle. A small black and white muggle photograph of his parents was framed in the corner of the plaque. Someone had spent a lot of money on this shrine. His parents had meant a lot to someone. Or to a lot of people. His parents were probably very influential in their group of friends. And yet they had died when they were twenty-four. They were only eight years older than he was.

So many thoughts flooded from the back of his mind and into clear focus, leaving Harry no choice but to crumble to his knees and sob. He sat slumped over on the floor, arms around his knees, shoulders shaking violently, his eyes awash with tears. That evil bastard Voldemort had killed his parents, tortured countless other people, led followers to kill his friends, and inflict senseless violence upon scores of witches and wizards simply because their parents weren’t gifted with magic. And he, some scrawny sixteen-year-old kid had been chosen to remove him from power. And he had succeeded.

A pair of strong hands gripped his shoulders and gently turned him around, then pulled him into a tight embrace. Uncle and nephew clung to one another, each relieved in their own way that the reign of terror had ended.