Most held their tongues, but Auntie Muriel, of course, had something to say about it. "Has she no sense?" the old bat bellowed, breaking the heavy silence. "Must have been raised by savages. No respect!"
Verity let the insult roll right off as she adjusted her magenta work robed. She had been Fred's friend, and she was hurting just as much as many in attendance. But she kept quiet, continuing her way in silence. Let them think what they wanted.
The large group reached the grave site, many pushing Verity to the back. She didn't deserve to be so close if she felt the need to draw attention to herself and not the fallen Weasley they were there to honor.
Verity bit her lip, contenting herself to stay in the shadows. A fight was the last thing she wanted, and many in the crowd appeared to dare her to try.
A hand on her shoulder startled Verity. Looking up, she saw George and offered him a weak smile.
"Fred would have liked it," he told her loudly, staring pointedly at Muriel as he took Verity's hand and lead her to the front where family and close friends stood.
There, Mrs. Weasley embraced the young witch. "Thank you," she whispered in Verity's ear before pulling away, wiping her wet eyes.
Verity held her head high, blinking back tears as she stared at the casket. Yes, Fred would have appreciated the color. He would want them to celebrate his life, not mourn his death.
Feeling a little lighter, she closed her hand around George's. As an elderly wizard began his lament, a smile played at Verity's lips as she lost herself in memories of her adventures with the twins in the joke shop.