A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but I think a monthly updates, might become more regular as summer and new career/grad school progress. Warning: this chapter does contain more sadness for Ron and Hermione, but I promise, things for the trio will look up soon!

Disclaimer: Still none of the characters or places mentioned here are mine.


CH 8

Saturday came too fast. Mrs. Weasley had put her foot down firmly that everyone would be attending, and at eight in the morning she served breakfast to a bleary eyed and irritable family. The children were dressed in their school robes in accordance to the Minister's request that all Hogwarts students attending do so in solidarity to their fallen classmate. It was a seemingly reflective and thoughtful request, but Hermione whispered vehemently to Ron that it seemed more like a media set up than anything else.

Fred and George had even come home from the flat they were renting in Diagon Alley. It was a testament to Mrs. Weasley's grief that she didn't remark on their lack of school robes as they were most certainly no longer students in their eyes. For the first time since Percy's leaving the table was silent. Ron pushed a bit of egg around hit plate with a piece of toast, but he thought he would be sick if he actually took a bite. This wasn't real. This couldn't be happening. His mind still drew a blank on the "how" behind it. How did something like this happen? A week ago and the three of them were still together, talking about plans for the D.A and O. . His musings were interrupted as Mr. Weasley looked at his watch and cleared his throat.

"Well, it looks like it's time to go." He stood up, pushing his chair back as he did so and headed to the door head already lowered in respect. They would be taking Portkey to Hogsmeade and walking to Hogwarts from there. Due to the nature and publicity of the memorial, it was decided that the Great Hall would be the best place to accommodate attendees. Afterwards a small marker would be placed next to the Potters' headstone in Godric's Hollow. In Arthur Weasley's pocket a small letter lay inviting the Weasley Family to attend the more intimate ceremony later. Hermione had her invitation as well. Everyone stood up following him, leaving their dirty dishes of uneaten food sitting on the table and shuffled out of the door.

It was a quiet walk to the old tin can on the hill. Ron stared at the cloudless sky. It was a warm, beautiful spring day, a perfect day for quidditch. If Harry had been with them they could have just finished breakfast and gone right back to bed. It was the first day of Summer Holiday after all, or they could have been on their way right now to the broom shed to fly around the burrow, or convince others to play a game, or just sit in the yard and talk about how stupid and vile Umbridge and Snape were. He swallowed hard. They couldn't do that now. Logically he knew that on the first day of summer Harry would be at the Dursley's, doing who knows what, and perhaps missing his friends. He always was so happy to leave the Dursley's, and now…well, now Ron wasn't even able to attempt his idea for this year's rescue plan. In his mind though, Harry, Hermione and him were relaxing by the old cow pond, or creating a DA training schedule for next year. He looked around him again, certain that at any moment his friend would pop out of the tall grass or wood line and come running up, apologizing in typical Harry fashion for worrying them. Then they could all walk back to the Burrow, he would actually be able to stomach breakfast, and, slowly, they would make their way to his room, and he would fill them in on his adventure. Ron scowled at his polished shoes. Stupid polished shoes- Harry never cared what shoes he wore. Heck, all that Harry ever cared about it seemed was genuine friendship. A friendship Ron had almost thrown away last year. Why hadn't he been a better friend? A lump formed and sat in the back of Ron's throat. He swallowed it down painfully. He felt Ginny's hand on his shoulder as he grabbed the can with the rest of his family, then they were off.

They had reserved seats in the second row, right behind Ministry Officials. A big picture of Harry was framed and next to the podium where Dumbledore usually gave his start of term speech. There was no Albus Dumbledore in attendance now. The picture was one that Rita Skeeter had snapped fourth year, and Harry looked annoyed to have been caught on camera. He kept turning his face to the side corners of his lips a little turned down… not at all how he should be remembered. Ron looked over at Hermione, her face was slightly green. Slowly the hundreds of attendees began to sit down and an elderly woman was assisted to the podium on the arm of a somber-looking wizard. He introduced the crowd to Bathilda Bagshot as she tottered behind the podium and cleared her throat. A few scattered gasps were heard in the audience and Hermione leaned over to whisper in Ron's ear, "She wrote Hogwarts: a History" Hermione was now staring at the stage giving the woman her full attention. Ron busied himself scuffing the bottom of his shoe on the Great Hall floor. She cleared her throat again, though in a completely different way than Professor Umbridge had.

"Many did not know it, but I was great friends with the Potter's." She began in a gravelly, yet soft voice, like lake bed pebbles being gently rolled together in an enclosed fist. "Yes, it's true, we lived on the same street all those years ago…" her voice faded and became wistful. "Yes, I was familiar with James and Lily and their friends. Mostly Lily. She would come and keep me company, I was often alone in those days, and she never turned down an invitation to tea. She told me once that she loved hearing me talk about my interesting life. But really I loved hearing about her. She, they both really, were so young when they died. They barely seemed out of Hogwarts to me. I was mystified. I suppose I shouldn't have been considering all the murders that took place that year, but I was. It was a great shock, and like most the adults in this room, I was very concerned with Harry's continuing life and Lord Voldemort's disappearance" many gasps were heard throughout the Hall, and she waited with a stern expression until there was complete silence again. Harry would have liked her, thought Hermione. "Now, Harry and I were never friends, not even acquaintances. While he had probably heard my name a few times in his life I believe it doubtful that he carried any memory with me in it. Though, I did know him, and will remember him, as will all of you, until the day I die. I knew him when he was not famous, when he was an infant and a toddler, sweet and innocent, as we all initially are, and oblivious to the evil that surrounded the world around him. I knew him when he was learning to talk, and when he had his first display of magic, and when Sirius Black," the corners of her mouth twitched down sharply, "gave him his first child's training broom." Ron stopped scuffing the bottom of his shoe and joined Hermione in rapt attention. Her pale face was awed looking, her mouth partly open. "I knew him when he was still uninfluenced by primary teachers, and his Mother's sister." Hermione and Ron had both noted that the Dursley's, though they had three seats reserved for them next to Cornelius Fudge, were not in attendance. "Uninfluenced by Hogwarts professors and magical peers." Her eyes scanned the room noting all the children in school robes. "I knew him, when all he cared about was his parents and a soft blanket that he carted in a little hand everywhere he went. But like the majority of you here, the rest I learned from watching the papers, and from gossip carried in and around the Leaky Cauldron, Three Broomsticks, and The Hogshead." There was a soft chuckling throughout the crowd at that. "He received his Hogwarts letter at age eleven, as all young witches and wizards do, and came to Hogwarts. He was sorted into Gryffindor and began his education. In his first year, he, along with some of his classmates" she indicated Ron and Hermione, "saved the sorcerer's stone. He was also selected as the youngest member of the quidditch team in the past century. In his second year, it was discovered that he is one of two known parselmouths. Instead of letting bias and fear corrupt him, he used his skill to save a classmate from the Chamber of Secrets. Then last year, he was awarded the title Triwizard Champion. He was known for his character and loyalty to his friends. Those who were close to him were people whom he trusted and loved and who trusted and loved him in return. His kidnapping and subsequent death will darken our days for a time, but we must try to find meaning in a meaningless tragedy. While Harry is gone now," she cleared her throat and paused a second and began again, "While Harry is gone, we must remember his spirit. We must remember the brave boy whose daring courage truly set him apart, and who strove to better the world around him."

She exited the stage looking small. Following her eulogy a few others made some comments about Harry's life and legacy, but all of the well-intentioned speeches seemed empty of substance. No one really knew him. Not like Ron and Hermione, and there was no way that they would speak at this show of a memorial, even if asked. It was too impersonal, too showy. At the end of the speeches sad music played and the attendees were ushered to another room for food and drinks. The Weasley's slipped out of the crowd slowly, eyes downcast not wanting to be seen or stopped. After another portkey ride they found themselves in Godric's Hollow and slowly made their way to the little graveyard on the hill, walked through the kissing gate, and joined the others that had gathered in a loose circle around a grave stone. Lily and James Potter lay under the ground in front of them. "The Last enemy that will be destroyed is death" emblazed on their tombstone speaking to all the members gathered there.

Mostly there were Order members, Kingsley, Mad-eye Moody, Tonks, Mrs. Figg, somewhat surprisingly, was in attendance, along with Augusta Longbottom, and Neville. When the Weasley's and Hermione joined the others they were greeted softly. Warm handshakes, gentle hugs, and voices the oozed condolence. Ginny looked like she wanted to bolt, her eyes were wide and she was only kept where she was standing by her mother's firm hand on her back. Hermione's eyes were now glittering wetly, and Ron felt like throwing up. This couldn't be real…but… there it was… a small, unassuming and flat tombstone lay in the neatly trimmed grass. "Harry James Potter," it read across the top, "b. July 31, 1980- d. June 18th, 1996, and 'the bravest of heart'" printed underneath. Ron swallowed thickly. What were they even doing here? There wasn't even a body to bury. Before he could say his sentiment to Hermione Dedalus Diggle stepped forward.

"We are gathered today to morn and pay our respects to a boy, a young man, who we loved. There isn't a script for this service, it is only for us who knew him best. So, we'll just take turns talking." He took a step back. Everyone stood in silence staring at the ground for a while. Mrs. Figg began first…

"I moved to Privet Dr. in November of 1981, I'm a squib, and Dumbledore placed me there to keep watch over Harry while he grew up at his Relatives. I think I failed him…" her voice broke, "They never were kind, but if I had appealed to Dumbledore more often perhaps something would have been done. Harry deserved more love in his life." Augusta, showing more tenderness than she was known for placed a hand on Mrs. Figg's shoulder. She also conjured a rose and laid it simply in front of the stone. Neville cleared his throat next.

"Harry was always good to me. He didn't need to be my friend, but he was. He stood up for me, and supported me. It was through his friendship that I survived my first years at Hogwarts. His legacy will live on. We'll" he looked directly at Ron and Hermione beseechingly, "we'll make sure of it. For now though, I'm not really sure what we'll do without you. Nothing will be the same"

Slowly everyone said something, things that were short and sweet and maybe a little empty…like everyone in attendance imagined themselves coming back to really talk in private with the slab of marble that was a cold representation of their lost friend and ally. Soon only Hermione and Ron were left.

"Harry..." began Hermione, she bit her lip, a poor attempt to stop her chin from quivering. " I don't know where you are now, but I hope you're happy. I hope your scar doesn't hurt you, and that you can finally be at peace from all of the unwanted publicity… I don't know what to say because I still can't believe that you're dead. You can't be…but we're all here, gathered around as if you were, and what if I'm just stuck in one of the stages of grief, what if I'm just the only one that can't accept that you're gone," her voice was very high pitched, she was losing it, careening towards grief, she, and everyone else, knew. "I can't accept it now." She repeated, trying to compose herself, "And I don't want to go home tomorrow and have to face a world without you in it… You and Ron are my best friends, what are we supposed to do?" Ron gripped her hand tightly, "but whatever happened, it wasn't your fault, and we'll find a way to finish what we started together. We love you." She ended, barley finishing before her voice died. Then Ron was the only one. He took a step forward and Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder in solidarity and exhaustion from the emotionally draining day.

"Harry, remember when you showed me the Mirror of Erised First year?" He asked the ground, gulping back the tightness in his chest. "I think it would show me a different image now… I really wish you were here." He couldn't say anymore, so he just nodded, until he felt Hermione tug at his hand and they followed everyone back out the gate, through the childhood village Harry never got the chance to visit, and back to the Burrow, where an unexpected visitor waited for their return.