I do not own Harry Potter.

Sweat inducing sunlight and oven high heat was a pleasant change to the horrific downpour from just a week ago. A sweet little park had been Auntie Hermione's choice of destination for the funeral of her son, and Albus' cousin, Hugo Weasley, just a long car drive away from the original Weasley's house, The Burrow. As Albus thought about it, it was just as well. Being trapped for hours on end in a stuffy church on a hot day like this with no air conditioning would be . . . Well, a living nightmare really. And a church close to The Burrow would just be an unpleasant reminder. Besides, it was nice to be in a large, open area, full of sunlight and grass and bushes and ponds for the funeral. Row after row of small, bamboo chairs lay in the view, surrounded by a thin layer of lush green, finely mown grass. A glittering pond was in front of the chairs: it was full of exotic, colourful fish and water features of cherubs spraying water out of their little stone mouths. There were berry bushes and trees around the outside.

The funeral itself was for a young wizard, Hugo Weasley. His death had occurred a little more than a month ago when he threw himself of a tower with a known Death Eater, at his school, Hogwarts. It wasn't quite a suicide. The reason he had jumped was a long and complicated one. Before he went to Hogwarts, he made an Unbreakable Vow with a gypsy witch which would ensure his magical ability. Unfortunately, the Vow made him promise that he would never have a friend, a promise he had broken. Therefore, his death wasn't much of a suicide, more of paying a debt. And he would have died from breaking the Vow anyway; and probably in a more horrifying, bloody and catastrophic way.

Albus had decided to have some time to himself, sitting in a chair at the front. The silver and black suit he wore was starting to stick to his chest in the heat, but it was worth it just to stew in his thoughts, undisturbed, just for a while whilst he could. The other option would've been to meet the family as they arrived, and the ever expanding amount of Potters and Weasleys and family friends would cause the meet and greet to last for centuries. Then, of course, he'd have to plaster on a smiling face and offer out, how have you been? and I'm so sorry for your loss and Hugo was a great guy and all that. Besides, he'd have lots of time to meet cousins in Hogwarts.

Speaking of Hogwarts, three more relatives were about to join Albus in September: Lily, his sister, and Roxanne and Fred, his cousins, George and Angelina's children. After that, Bill and Fleur's children, Dominique and Louis. Uncle Percy and Auntie Audrey's children, Lucy and Molly, were starting private education that year at Professor Pansy's Higher Institute of Magical Studies. It was a well known school, available only to highly known magicians, those who could afford the tuition fees and children with exceptional ability who could achieve a scholarship. It hadn't took Albus long to work out how Percy Weasley, highly paid Ministry worker, had got his children in.

Albus just spent some time in the sunlight, thinking of Hugo and the memories he'd had of him. Everything from him Hugo stealing his dummy as a child to their first time on a broomstick, then from him setting fire to a corridor in Hogwarts to day he died.

He then pulled a small black, leather notebook out of his blazer pocket. It was an idea his mother, Ginny had suggested. The notebook was a place Albus could write or draw anything he wanted to cope with his cousin's death. So far he'd written a song, draw pictures of the night on the tower (all of which were unrecognisable and scruffy), a couple of ideas and paragraphs on his feelings. And two days ago, he'd given into Ginny's pleads and had written a speech for the funeral. Albus wasn't that good at giving speeches, except for when it mattered, and for some reason, the funeral didn't seem like the right time. Nevertheless, Albus opened up the notebook, turned to the speech page and ran through the words in his head:

Hugo, to me, was a great cousin and an even greater friend. I spent a long time with him, younger as a child. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to go to the same primary school as him, due to the distance between us, but we spent many weekends and holidays together. Hugo was always adventurous; he liked breaking rules and exploring. He was always good to be around and was funny and, as we all know, a bit geeky, (pause for laughs). The one thing I will miss most now that Hugo is gone . . .

Albus couldn't bring himself to think, never mind say this . . .

The one thing I will miss most now that Hugo is gone is that I will never again have such a protective and admirable friend . . . I'll miss him.

A single tear rolled down Albus' cheek and shattered into glittering fragments as it hit the pages on the notebook. In a way, no speech could express how deeply damaged he felt. But what worried Albus, was how little he seemed to know about Hugo. He hadn't been told about Serpentina and the Vow until the day he died. What else didn't he know? What secrets were still being kept from him?

It was then that the shambles that was Arthur Shaw bounced into the seat behind Albus. He, unlike Albus, was wearing a broad smile. "I've never been to a funeral," Arthur thought, "I buried a hedgehog in my garden once though. And my dad cremated a chicken once, but then again, mum shouldn't have left him in charge of the barbecue."

"Nice to see you again," Albus said, blankly.

"You too. I can see why it took so long to organise this funeral. It looks great," Arthur gasped.

"I know." Albus put his notebook back in his blazer pocket.

Arthur climbed over the chair in front of him and sat by Albus. "You see a little . . . distant, like you're thinking about something or are . . . I dunno, really sad?"

Albus continued to look ahead, where the speaking lectern was. "Both, I guess you could say." He mumbled.

"Same here. Of course I didn't know him as long as you did, but I was glad I got to know him," Arthur sighed. "What am I saying? I shouldn't have got to know him! If I hadn't known him he wouldn't be rotting in the ground like that hedgehog!"

"Arthur!" Arthur calmed down. "Don't start thinking like that. I'd rather he enjoyed his life rather than hate every waking minute of it."

"Yeah, of course. Sorry, Al."

Shortly after, the families and friends took their seats. Albus was on the same row as Hermione and Ron, Harry and Ginny, Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Dominique and Louis, George and Angelina, Fred and Roxanne, Percy and Audrey, Lucy and Molly, Charlie, James and finally Rose, who sat next to him. On the row behind were family friends, including Esther and Poppy, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and Ted and Victoire. McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn and the Thomas and Finnigan families.

Auntie Hermione stepped forward from her seat and stood by the marble, owl shaped lectern. The owl fluttered its wings outwards so Hermione could place the tattered pages of her speech in it. She coughed and wiped her eyes. Silence.

"Hugo," she began, "was an excellent child. He wasn't the most out going, confident or, dare I say it, normal child. But in what he lacked, he gained in other skills. He was smart, talented, kind and head strong. Being his mother, I got to know Hugo very well. But again, being his mother, I never got to know him, in a way, as well as his friends. If I were twelve I know that Hugo would've been my friend. I remember one time when we went to the theatre, in London, to see The Lion King. Hugo, being himself, enjoyed the show, but kept asking ridiculous questions like, why would lions team with hyenas? and why would lions roar if they can speak? I said to him, "Because they're telling you to shut up and watch the show!"" There were laughs from the audience. "I must also say that the person I feel most sorry for is my daughter, Rose. I've lost friends before, and also my parents, you could say, bet never someone as close as a brother . . ."

Rose began to cry. Albus tried to comfort her by handing her a hanky and patting her back but it didn't work. Eventually, Albus took her to sit next to Ron.

The funeral continued with speeches from Harry and Ron, both with teary eyes and jokes about Hugo as a child. Even McGonagall spoke at one point, likening Hugo to his parents as children and expressing how sorry she was for their loss. Albus cried throughout, (but not as must as Rose), and kept his sorrow to himself to avoid making a scene. What was most saddening was Molly and Arthur's speech. It was not as light hearted as the others and spoke a lot about how much they would miss getting to know their grandson.

"Every day, I am sure, I will miss my grandson: a young and talented boy. I feel the same sorrow as when I lost my own son, Fred," Molly was saying. "I can't begin to feel the pain my friend and daughter in law, Hermione, must feel."

"To no longer see Hugo is a great misfortune," Arthur continued. "Since he was born, we longed to see Hugo transform into a man. To see him win school competitions, get married, find a job, get a girlfriend, and maybe even have children of his own one day." Arthur held Molly to his chest as she began to weep. "Our greatest sympathies to Hugo's closer family," was the left thing Arthur said before he and Molly took their seats again.

It was Albus' turn. After him, only Rose and Arthur would be left. Rose gave Albus a friendly hug out of his seat. Albus stood in front of his seat; the obedient eyes of everyone were focused on him like the preying eyes of eagles. He felt a lot sweatier than earlier, it was like he'd been drenched in water. His head spun with dizziness and his legs felt stiff, rigid and heavy. With slow clumsy steps, Albus staggered up to the lectern, where he set his notebook on the wings of the owl shaped lectern. Looking down on the crowd, every face was looking up at him. Albus leaned on the lectern to stop himself from collapsing from the pressure. His sweaty fingers felt like they were magnetized to the lectern, and completely immovable.

Albus sucked in the air around him and gathered just enough confidence to begin. "Hugo, to me, was a great cousin and an even greater friend." Albus stammered, hearing his mocking voice inside his head, laughing at his fragile state. "I . . . I spent a long time with him, younger as a child. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to go to the same primary school as him, due to the distance between us, but we . . . we spent many weekends and holidays together. Hugo was always . . . Hugo was always . . ."

Albus blanked. Each word was clearly written before him, but stuck like glue on Albus' tongue. He just couldn't bring himself to say it. It couldn't to Albus' true feelings any justice anyway; how he really felt inside. The words were just useless and stuck in his mouth! Perhaps this was his chance to tell the truth.

"When you're a kid, you're parents protect you. They hold you in their arms and tell you everything will be okay and that there are no such things as monsters. You get wrapped in lies so you can't see the world as it is. But there are such things as monsters and lies can't cure the truth. Hugo always knew that. He was unlucky, he was thrown into the darkness with no turning back, and from there on his life had ended. But that wasn't entirely the end. Hugo was brave, and Hugo was resistant. He never let the darkness win and he repelled everything that fought against him to the point where he could laugh in its face. A bad choice was made by him at a young age and he fell into darkness. Then a better choice was made. He chose to resist what kept him from enjoying life, and that's not when he died, that's when he started to live! He made friends. He was popular. Hugo lived a better life as long as he could until he was swallowed by the darkness. I'm not afraid to say that his death was a gift. By choosing it die, he chose to enjoy life more than he ever had done! I was honoured to know him. Such a brave and talented person. We are in a world of danger and monsters and lies . . . But that doesn't mean we can't learn to enjoy life . . ."

Albus could've sworn that there were fireworks and cannon shots. The shear noise of the applause was enough for anyone to think that. Everyone there was clapping and smiling and standing in applause. Rose had even stopped crying to applaud Albus' speech. Albus looked to see his father, Harry, wink at him. It made that sweating and stammering worth it.

When Albus get back in his seat, the speeches continued, but with an obvious lack of applause and some references to Albus' speech: his speech had obviously had a large impact. Even after the speeches, a few, maybe several times more than a few, people came to congratulate Albus in person.

It was then the time for Hugo to be buried. Every person there had donated to make a collective fund to buy Hugo's tombstone. The tombstone was unusual; shaped like an outstretched hand, cast in marble. Hugo's name and date of birth and death were written across the fingertips. An outstretched hand was meant to represent that Hugo was never able to reach what he wanted in life as he'd died at such a young age. It must have been a metre in height.

Lying beneath the marble hand was the grave. Dug into the earth with around two metres in length, one in width and one and a half in depth. This was where Hugo was due to be buried.

The crowd gathered around the grave and silenced themselves for the ceremony. Once perfect silence was achieved, Harry, Ron, Grandad Arthur and George carried the black coffin to the side of the grave on their shoulders. They lay the coffin on the ground, took out their wands, and lowered the coffin into the grave with the simple charm that Albus had learnt in his first year at Hogwarts: Wingardium Leviosa. They then covered the coffin in mud with what was an unknown charm to Albus; encasing Hugo's body, forever, in the soil . . .

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