The thing about funerals is that sometimes God forgets that rain masks tears better than sunshine. Putting two bodies in the ground on a glorious day at the beginning of August had left the rather sizable group of mourners in a predicament. It was either forfeit all their water to tears or perspiration, as the humidity so common to even the mountains of North Carolina made a most tragic family burial all the more unsettling.
A tender thread of breeze interrupted the event as the despondent family and friends endured the pastor delivering his promises of final peace and enduring life. Several of the members of the congregation breathed deeply, glancing up to the perfectly azure sky and smiling weakly, silently thanking whatever power they believed in for the cooling comfort afforded to them.
The majority of the audience subtly nodded their heads in thanks to Mr. Kai McKay. He paid their gratitude no heed as he resolutely stared at his son and daughter-in-law's Blackthorn caskets as he slowly slipped his wand back into the sleeve of his dark grey cloak.
Mr. McKay had come to the understanding during his family trips to the southern region of the States that the stifling humid air is almost always more bearable when it is moving about. He had always been out of doors whenever he got up enough time and energy to visit his remaining family that had moved there twenty years prior, and due to his recent retirement, he had anticipated more time spent with Connor and his two wonderful girls.
But the McKay's had never had too much of the fabled Irish luck.
Mr. McKay had just finished up a charm on the hose to keep the rose bush watered that the late Mrs. McKay had planted several years before her passing. Sibh had been a witch of average talent, with her excellence in Herbology and her deep auburn hair earning her the pet name Rosie during her years at Hogwarts. (She only went along with it because she grew tired of everyone mucking up trying to pronounce her name. Kai had always thought, it suited her splendidly.)
Sibh had written the small time best seller "Charming Bouquets: Aye, It's A Pun", which had a nice run amongst the middle aged witches. Adrian had even "procured" herself a copy of her mother-in-law's book and sent her a blasted email ( "Merlin's Beard, how do I open the fucking eh-mail attachment Kai? I will never understahnd why you tot bringing home a muggle contraption into this house was gas.") with a moving picture of her laughing as she ran down the street of the small North Carolinian magical shopping center with the book master hot on her heels, visibly blasting poorly aimed disarming spells at her back.
Despite her knowledge on all things blooming, Sibh had always watered her rose bush by hand. She would mumble something about the American plant being weaker than the average Irish rose bush when asked by visitors. But Kai knew the true reason why the full and hearty plant received the personal non-magical care, and had continued to water the bush by hand since her passing.
As he walked inside to gather his old leather bound trunk before aparating to North Carolina, a harrowing chime and a set of clunks rang from the upstairs clock.
Kai's hands had been shaking as he ascended the stairs as fast as his arthritis would let him. Connor and Adrian's clock hands were still unceremoniously rocking back and forth on the floor from their short fall from the face of the McKay Family clock. When he finally tore his dampening brown eyes from the fallen hands that so callously announced the death of Connor and Adrian McKay, he could barely make out the faces on the remaining two hands of the clock.
One picture was his own. The other held a waving photo of a jubilant freckled face.
She was currently seated beside Kai now at her parent's funeral, any trace of her normally constant grin completely erased from her countenance.
Anna McKay, on any other sunny August day, would have been found on the west side of the foothill by her home inventing rather gymnastic Quidditch moves that she alone could replicate for the upcoming season.
She would have been found running through town in the dead of the afternoon, beaming and waving , even as she panted tiredly, at every familiar face she passed, both muggle and magical alike.
She would have been found seated in her faded green Adirondack chair, painstakingly trying to review her potions book that was required reading for her 6th year at New Amsterdam's Wizardry School while her father flicked her braids as he brought her out a sweet iced tea.
Instead, Anna McKay was silently letting tears fall and drop onto her black dress as she looked on at her parent's Celtic decorated caskets. She had been adamant that the middle aged wizard who happened to be the coffin maker did the designs by hand, without the use of his wand. He had been somewhat taken aback and proclaimed that a coffin with the fittings done by hand like a muggle was not suitable for a wizard and witch of the McKay's stature.
She had then set about asking a muggle woodworker in town if he was up to the job. He had agreed whole heartedly, and the artwork was so delicately and lovingly crafted into the woodwork she thought it ironic that it should only be seen once and then put in the ground forever.
Anna had wished for rain today.
Turned out God or whatever power controlled the strings of fate had decided that rain was out of the question, much like it had decided it was out of the question for Adrian and Connor McKay to live past the Friday after their only daughters 16th birthday.
The pastor allowed Anna to take the stand under the makeshift pavilion on the west side of the cemetery. Rambling, long winded Anna McKay struggled to choke out her unprepared speech.
Her famous grin would briefly appear right before the moments she had to stop speaking due to her tears. Anna's award winning smile would always be an unconscious small gesture of comfort to the magical and muggle audience at hand.
Every member of the congregation had known the boisterous, kind hearted McKay's, and they cried and reminisced with Anna as she relayed stories of her mother's laugh actually getting the police called on their house due to a noise complaint; of her father always willing and miraculously fixing his neighbor's wi-fi signals at the drop of the hat. She grinned once more as she began to finish up her eulogy, but then her trembling voice finally cracked and her light blue eyes clamped shut, unable to keep herself from sobbing as she tried to tell a story about a rose bush.
Eventually the bodies of Connor and Adrian McKay were lowered into the ground. Kai and Anna grasped onto each other's hands, never letting go as every member of the audience came to offer condolences. A few fell into Anna's embrace as she offered the particularly despondent guests one armed hugs. The embraces served to ease their tears, even as hers continued to stream down her face.
Goodness, she really had wanted it to rain today.
Kai had solemnly accepted the condolences offered by the members of his son's community but didn't bother to memorize their names. It didn't matter anyway. Anna would be returning with him to his home across the Atlantic. He doubted he would ever see these people again.
After a few hours, Anna and Kai stood over the grey headstones. The sunset managed to reflect off the granite stones, transforming them into fiery and glittering gems. Anna would have commented on their beauty, but all she could think about was that she hadn't gotten to finish her eulogy properly.
She cleared her throat. Anna briefly wondered how long it would be before her sorrow dried up enough to allow her to ramble as she usually did. She resolved to make this a priority: no one in the McKay family should ever be silent. Their voices always boomed so loud they could fill a room with laughter with one guffaw.
"Magic is a wonderful tool, but it can often make things too easy. So if you're going to do something for love, make sure it comes from your own hand not your wand, s'always the truest way to show exactly how you feel."
Mr. McKay nodded his head once and pulled two roses out of his cloak."Sibh always did have a way with her words, didn't she?"
"Yeah. These from her?"
"Course. You know she never put any magic into these roses."
"I know. They were my favorites because of that."
"Hers too."
Anna looked him in the eye and nodded. She took the roses from his hand and placed them on top of each stone.
Mr. McKay finally flicked away the breeze charm and the heat of the August evening settled back into the air. They walked back towards the now vacant McKay home, everything prepped beforehand to aparate themselves back to the original McKay stead in the homeland.
Anna would be attending a new school called Hogwarts in the upcoming year, her transfer having gone through due to her grandparent's good standing as alumni.
She had heard it was rainy and cold in the Scotland highlands. She was glad. Misery always seemed a bit more manageable when the sky was crying along with you.