There wasn't even a lot of blood. Sure he had bump's and bruises, and there were wounds from where his skin made contact with the pavment-but there was next to no blood. It was bloody embarrassing. Here he was the boy-who-lived killed by a muggles transportation. Harry had lived through a killing curse, a basilisk's poison, and dementors. Yet here he was dead due to a family celebrating two little girls birthday. There wasn't even that much blood.
Harry watched as the man cried and tried-without success- to revive him. His wife was screaming into the phone and the two girls in the boster seat were to young to really understand.
Harry wanted to laugh and laugh he did. He laughed at the irony of it at. For so long he was scared of snakeface and his minions when all along he should have been looking out for familys in death traps on wheels.
The medics had to pull the man away. It didn't matter what he did anyway. With the angle his neck was at there was nothing anyone could do. The man Harry heard called Paul, was pacing and running his hands through his hair. His wife kept rubbing her palms on her jeans looking even more pale as Harry was lifted into a body bag. His head fell awkwardly and poor Paul turned green. Harry almost felt bad for the man as his stomach heaved. His last meal of birthday cake splatered on the ground. Funily enough it was July 31st.
Sirius had to be held back at the hospital. Poor Paul was backed aginst the wall. A dozen or so other familys watched as a greif driven man tried to kill his godsons killer. Remus with all of his strength had a hard time holding him back. All he could do was hold the man as he cried. After Sirius calmed down somewhat all he could think to talk about was how Harry had just turned 16 today. Harry didn't know who he felt more bad for. In the end Harry chose Paul who resorted to clutching his head and rocking back and forth.
Seeing your own funeral was interesting Harry decided. He had three funerals, but he was certian you were only supposed to have one. Sirius was at all three. Two in person and one as padfoot. The biggest and grandest was the public funeral. Harry watched as tentions climed to an all time high. People that were once muggle suporters now started calling for blood, demanding to know who else was next. Harry wanted to laugh at their stupidity but it would make no diffrence so he didn't.
The next funeral was private. His body was placed between that of his mother and father. The Weasly's Hermione and Remus were all there. There were others but Harry didn't care about them as much. Sirius was there too. Standing front and center the gaunt man stood stoic. It was only when He and Remus were alone that they let their tears and sadness free. They only had each other to lean on now.
The last funeral was the stupidest to Harry. It was the muggle funeral. His face had been splashed all over the news. The neighbors knew who Harry was. There was no way for Petunia to avoid a funeral. To strange. Paul and his wife were there. Petunia pretended to sob and refuse their apologies about her 'precious nephew'. Harry had to aplaud her. She could act. Paul aproched Sirius, barely shrinking at his heated glares. Harry ignored most of what was said. Well shouted is more like it. Snipits of his age were mentioned. Crying and pleading were what he heard the most of. Eventully Harry left.
It really was a shame- Harry thought - that Sirius and Remus couldnt hear or see him. He could see them but they couldnt see him. As Harry learned more about his afterlife he had to wonder why. Then he figured it out. He wasn't a ghost in the real sense but an imprint. The leftover if you will. The ghosts at hogwarts did in places with magic. So they still had some allowing them to be seen Harry...Well he never was normal and poor Harry was even more unlucky.
It only took a two years for Sirius to die. Eleven years in Askaban and a full year of nostop drinking took a toll. In the end he was so utterly destroyed that he took his wand and ended it himself before the drinking got a chance to end his already short life.
Sirius was buried in godrics hollow next to James and Harry. They were his true family and Remus thought it only fitting. Sirius snorted and wraped an arm around Harry's shoulders. Remus always did know him well.
Remus went to both of Harry's graves. He changed the flowers once a week. One day Paul was at his muggle grave. The poor man was on a bike in the middle of winter. Harry hadn't seen him drive a car sense that day. He never stopped begging to be forgiven. Weather it was to Petunia, Remus, or Sirius. Remus was the only one ever willing to listen. Willing to forgive. Paul shook with silent tears when he asked for Sirius. When Remus told him of his death, Harry would be liying if he said there wasnt some sick little part if him the loved seeing the man brakedown.
Remus folowed Sirius into the grave five years later. With him came his wife and newborn son. Most of Hogwarts followed in his footsteps intill Voldemort was killed by no other than ickle baby Longbottom. Harry laughed himself silly. He was never the damn chosen one at all.
Harry knew it before anyone else. He knew when paul died years later. He saw his wife come home with his two girls and his son to find their father and husband dead. In his hand was his cofession. His personal death sentence. He blamed himself for both the death of Harry and Sirius. Harry felt sad for the man. He never ment for it to happen. He had looked back to smile at his girls and grab their fallen toy and in that brief second Harry was in the perfect spot. Hit just right to snap his neck from the forse but not to truly send him flying. Just a little slower and Harry would most likely have lived. Fate was a bitch Harry decided and poor little Harry was it's broken little pawn.