bDisclaimer/b As always, I write for fun and love of the fandom. None of the characters included are my own. No copyright infringement intended or money to be made. Thanks always to JKR for the wonderful world of Harry Potter and the fandom that supports it.
According to iThe Prophet/i and the textbooks to come, the war ended May 2nd, 1998. If you were to ask any of the families and children who had been there, fighting alongside and losing schoolmates and loved ones, you know that to be a lie. War doesn't end when the fighting is over. An enemy is defeated, but some scars never heal.
Katie Bell sat staring at a small scar on the tip of her first finger. To her left and right were former members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Oliver, Alicia, and Angelina. Each wore black robes and a somber expression. So many had died, there had been so many funerals. Every person deserved recognition, but this one was particularly painful. Seated in the rows between these friends were dozens of red-headed members of the Weasley family. In the very front sat an inconsolable mother, a distraught father, heart-broken siblings, and one lonely twin. Even the large portrait of Fred's smiling face could not lift the spirits of the grieving.
The afternoon was meant to be a celebration of life. Friend after friend and family member after family member stood and told a story of something memorable Fred had been a part of. The humor was often drowned with tears. Katie wanted to stand and tell about the time Fred had wanted to fill the changing rooms the Slytherins were using with frogs. She had walked in just in time to catch him in the act and was, as he had put it, an accomplice. The Slytherins had been extra slimy that match. She smiled a half smile and let it sink back to neutral. She knew she could not get through the tale without crying like the others, and she didn't feel as though she ought to worsen the mood.
With some difficulty she raised her gaze to the cherry oak casket. Fred would have thought it was hideous and too proper, but no one could argue with Molly Weasley; no one had the heart too. All around the wooden box were flowers. Harry had made sure that every person who passed away in the Battle of Hogwarts received flowers at their service. Fred had received many more than those. There was an array of roses, wild flowers, lilies, daisies, and gladiolas. On the very end was a familiar bouquet Katie had seen many times, and not only at the funerals.
An elegant mix of yellow roses, ivy, and lily of the valley seemed oddly cheerful in this particular setting. Katie recalled only now that she had received several of these, but waking up disoriented from a cursed necklace made such details seem trivial. There had been many flowers on her bedside, but her mother and father carefully and excitedly cradling her suddenly awake form had pushed thoughts of gifts from her mind. When she finally had the sense to ask and people stopped asking what she remembered from the attack, which was nothing at all, Katie questioned who the flowers had come from.
"Oh, your friends at Hogwarts. Those Weasley boys tried to send in a box of treats, but I pulled those aside. From what I hear, they only serve to make you more ill." Katie would have bet her broomstick that there wasn't a thing wrong with the treats the twins had sent. They were funny, not cruel. Katie tried to relax over the next few days as she was tested and questioned with no real results either way. Eventually she was released.
Everyone seated around Katie stood to exit the room ahead of the procession. She joined them and attended the burial in near silence. When Angelina began to shake with her cries, Katie wrapped a supportive arm around her back. Silent tears slipped down her own face. The most upsetting thing about death was the finality of it. Despite the justice that was to be served to those responsible, it wouldn't change anything. The Death Eaters could rot in Azkaban for the remainder of their days, and it would never bring Fred or Collin or Lupin or any of the others back.