"Goodbye, England's rose;
may you ever grow in our hearts.
You were the grace that placed itself
where lives were torn apart."

The rain was falling steadily over the Hogwart's grounds, while the gray, dreary clouds that hung overhead like a sheet of sorrow captured the sunlight and happiness of the hundreds of witches, wizards, and magical creatures who crowded outside the doors, leaving them encased in the darkness and suffocated by emptiness. The small drops of water trickled gently from the ends of the many black umbrellas moving slowly yet steadily toward the palace doors where he lay.

Inside the Great Hall, the magical ceiling imitated the dismalness of the sky outside. The rows of house tables were pushed back to accommodate the many who had arrived to pay their respects to him, the one lying lifelessly behind the opaqueness of the casket. The dark decor of the room attenuated the attire everyone who passed threw had dressed in: black, a sea of black clad mourners.

"You called out to our country,
and you whispered to those in pain.
Now you belong to heaven,
and the stars spell out your name."

It was slightly ironic that such sadness could overcome the magical realm so soon after the end of the war, and the vanquishing of the Dark Lord; however, this was a day to remember. To remember why mommies could now go home to tuck their children in at night without worry they wouldn't live to see another day. To remember that one could now walk through midnight streets safely hand in hand with their lover as stars glistened overhead. To remember why fear no longer captured the soul of every witch or wizard alive.

He saved them. He suffered, fought, and died for them. Those who had shunned, mocked, and scorned him. Did they deserve his grace?

It was his destiny, most would say, his destiny to lead them from the threshold of evil into a more righteous world. After all he was the 'chosen one'.

"And it seems to me you lived your life
like a candle in the wind:
never fading with the sunset
when the rain set in."

Behind the casket and ample assortment of flower arrangements protruding into the halls of the school, sat the long authoritative staff table; however this time not occupied by professors. After the public procession, the large oak doors of the Great Hall were closed to outsiders, leaving only those close friends of the departed, who had survived the war, within it's gloomy walls.

Slowly, one by one, those seated behind the table rose to pay their last respects. Tears trickled down the end of Minerva Mc Gonagall's long nose. Molly Weasley had to be supported by her husband and eldest son to remain from collapsing on the casket. Remus Lupin sauntered up to it arms tightly around his fiancé Tonks. He simply sighed as he approached the black box, but inside his emotions were howling.

Then came Ron and Hermione. A hush befell all those who remained in the room. Their attention was now fully focused on the young couple approaching the casket of their best friend. Everyone knew they had been the pillars that previously solidified the hero from underneath throughout his long doomed journey, and now the roof had come crashing down leaving the pillars standing alone to stand for eternity.

They stood there blankly for a few moments, arm in arm with each other for support. Then Ron brushed the lid of the box with his cold hand and whispered, "Miss you already mate," so softly only Hermione, with torrents of tears pouring down her face, could here. After what seemed like hours of standing, and starring at the deathly boxes' lid, Ron and Hermione sauntered away. The trio was broken.

Ron crawled back to his seat, with Hermione at his side, and fiercely banged his fists on the old oak table. The power to hold back his tears was escaping him as he noticed the empty chair beside him, unoccupied, reserved for someone special.

"And your footsteps will always fall here,
along England's greenest hills;
your candle's burned out long before
your legend ever will."

Ginny Weasley was in a room outside the Great Hall putting the finishing touches on her makeup and dress. Her long, fiery red hair was softly pinned back into a half up half down curly bun. Her cheeks and white wedding dress sparkled despite the hollow hole in her heart. She lacked the self-pity to mourn, or perhaps she was too numb by grief. No matter, Ginny was on a mission.

She made a promise to him. One she intended to uphold. Ginny stole a last glance at the mirror smoothing all the crinkles from her off the shoulder dress before adding the veil. Together, she remembered, they decided, only two short nights ago, before he left, that on this day she would walk down the aisle in this very dress, and he would be waiting at the end. Although he was no longer with her Ginny was going to meet him there.

She slipped on her white sparkly satin shoes before parading into the blackness of the Great Hall. Her dazzling white beauty glowed amongst the black clad mourners as she marched up to the casket of her true love. She laid her delicate hand gently upon the lid without a tear. Her other hand reclined softly on her stomach, what was feeding her the strength to carry on.

She lowered her head to the box and whispered tenderly, 'I kept my promise, watch over me and Lily, I love you." Then Ginny turned to face the few friends of his remaining in the room.

"Loveliness we've lost;
these empty days without your smile.
This torch we'll always carry
for our nation's golden child."

Rows of chairs magically appeared before Ginny. Lighted candles floated in the air above her. Everyone took a seat solemnly as Ginny began the speech she had recited in her head over and over again all night long.

"Dear friends, we gather hear not to mourn, but to celebrate the life of our fallen hero. He came to me the night before he died, and told me that if the unfortunate happens to carry on, life's not about reminiscing on the past but moving forward into the future. I believe he unfortunately understood that future did not have a place for him.

He wants us to remember he died for our freedom, so our children could live in a world not encompassed by fear and choked with sorrow, and if we look back on the misfortune of his tragic death for too long we may miss out on something pretty special.

His life was short, only eighteen brief years." A hush fell over the crowd as a single bewildered and confused muggle interrupted her speech entering timidly threw the giant doors. Overcome with fear to be surrounded by so many wizards, Petunia Dursley took a seat in the small three-chair-length section, reserved for family. Ginny smiled softly to herself before pressing on.

"Bur those years were not wasted. In fact in that short amount of time he managed to overcome more trials and tribulations than any full-grown wizard I have ever met." She took a long, deep breath before concluding her speech. "Now he has left the world, but he has left us all with a challenge. Will you go home and dwell on his memory, or follow his example, move forward and seize the dawn of a new day!"

Ginny turned back to the casket, bent over and kissed the lid, "I love you." She whispered one last time to the figure behind the lid. The mourners stood and applauded her speech as she pulled back, and took her previously vacant seat behind the long table. Only one tear was left on the lid of the black casket.

"And even though we try,
the truth brings us to tears;
all our words cannot express
the joy you brought us through the years."

Professor Mc Gonagall, Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and Ron all rose to say their last words inspired by the strength Ginny's salutation gave them. The audience laughed and cried reminiscing the life of their fallen hero. Professor Mc Gonagall recalled the time she saw him first ride a broom and made him seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He thought he was going to be expelled. Mrs. Weasley carried on about all the times he came to her house, how she tried to fatten him up. The little adventures she detailed such as his first de-gnoming, the Quidditch World Cup, and how he didn't know how to use floo powder and wound up in Knockturn Alley all lead the mourners to believe their was another side to their hero, a normal one.

He was just a kid, only eighteen, when he put the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders and marched them to liberty. Remus remembered how much he hated the press, and how he fought to escape it his whole life. He recalled how everyone told him he looked so much like his father except he had his mother's brilliant green eyes.

Then Ron rose to address the crowd. "I was there," he started, "There to see it all. Sometimes it wasn't pretty, sometimes he was scared, angry, or felt betrayed, but nonetheless he was a kid like us all, as well as my best mate. We met on the Hogwart's express before our first year, and from there I knew it was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. I was surprised by how little he knew about the magical world. I grew up hearing the tales of 'the boy who lived,' and his triumphant escape from the dark lord. It never occurred to me he didn't know what a chocolate frog was.

Hermione and I were there on his escapade through the bowels of the school in search for the sorcerer's stone. I followed him into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue my sister Ginny, and I stood beside him even when the whole school turned the backs on him. I was there when we were chased into the Womping Willow and met Sirius Black, soon to be discovered as his godfather."

Ron's face turned red as the hairs on his head. He put his hand on his neck feeling the heat coursing through his body as he remembered a particularly ridiculous fight they had, "In our fourth year," he continued, "We had our first, and only, official row. As a set up by, " he gulped as he said the name (Harry would have wanted him to), "Voldemort to lure him into the graveyard, his name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire. I was blinded by jealousy, and refused to stand at his side to support him. I watched from a far as he battled the Hungarian Horntail all the time wondering and worrying about him, my best mate.

The second Triwizard task involved the champions retrieving something valuable to them at the bottom of the lake. I was his thing, and was honored to be so. It tore me to watch my best mate swallowed by the thick darkness of the foreboding maze, and even more to hear what he had been through, had seen. I think what hurt me the most was the fact I couldn't be there beside him backing him up as I always was. After all every pilot needs a wingman.

Throughout his fifth year, probably his most emotionally instable, I stood my ground with him as the world shunned, mocked, and scorned him. I was there at the Ministry the night of our little escapade. The night the world learned of Voldemort's return. The night everyone learned he was right all along.

As we entered our sixth year people started to revere him as 'the chosen one'. He enlightened Hermione and I with the secret message of the prophecy, and I guess you could say that year was the beginning of the end. From the battle inside the walls of the school and the incident atop the lightning struck tower, he knew what he had to do.

His destiny was there all along. It simply took him until then to realize it was there, hiding in the corners. I recall the plans he made at Dumbledore's funeral, to continue on the mission the late headmaster had left him with, alone."

Ron smiled turning to Hermione for support as he remembered the final year of their hero's life. "Hermione and I laughed at this. I recall telling him he could just try and go alone, but no matter what peril lay before us, we would be there beside him all the way. He didn't try to fight it, because he knew he couldn't shake us.

So that was it, we traveled, searched, dug, fell, flew, and worked together. The triumphant trio in its finest hour. We stuck by you till the end mate!" He turned to face the casket again and took a long deep breath before cracking down, "The trio will never divide! I'm gonna miss you."

One last time Ron ran his hand along the black, solid frame of the lid and regained his seat between Hermione and his sister. From behind the long table Ginny, in her dazzling white wedding gown, rose. "To Harry Potter, the most valiant hero, and loyal friend you could ever know! Your candle has burned out but your legend never will!"

"Goodbye England's rose,
from a country lost without your soul,
who'll miss the wings of your compassion
more than you'll ever know."

Suddenly the clouds broke apart leaking sunshine into the Great Hall. Ginny felt encompassed by a loving presence, as the rays of fresh August light danced on her cheeks, warming the hearts of all the black clad mourners present. The doors of the hall flew open where a long tunnel of witches and wizards lined up to watch the casket carried away. Harry was going to be laid to rest in Godric's Hollow beside his parents.

The black box rose magically in the air by Ron and Lupin who, along with Ginny lead the procession. With one final breath and tear, Ginny lightly touched the rim of the casket, keeping her other hand rested on her momentarily flat stomach, where she harbored the final chapter of the Potter lineage. Nobody, except herself at the moment knew. But as the wind blew gently across the grounds, ruffling the layers of her sparkling dress, she understood, wherever he was, Harry knew as well.

HARRY JAMES POTTER

1980-1998

"Your candle's burned out long before
your legend ever will".