Chapter 29: An end is just a new beginning

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: very brief allusion to suicidal thoughts, and depictions of cutting for magical/ceremonial purpose. If you wish to skip this section, stop reading at "The brunette took a ceremonial dagger from Sirius" and start again 20 lines later. Please do skip this section if these topics are upsetting to you, I don't want anyone to hurt themselves in any way if they're affected by these issues.

Rose stood before the mirror, putting the final touches on her hair, pinning the last of the simple ornaments onto her head.

It was yet another moment that she wanted to cringe at the choices of her past self, knowing that her magical peers had no doubt considered her to be a callous traitor to one of her Houses after the death of a family member.

She'd had no concept of death rites or mourning practices before – hadn't even been aware that there was somebody to mourn in the first place – and the naïve Rose of the past had always been far more caught up in the day-to-day minutia of Hogwarts, or whatever plot Voldemort had been cooking up at the time.

This time around she was Heiress Black, was a Lady in her own right, and Cygnus' death had been announced by the Lord of his own House in a very public space. Rose simply couldn't allow herself to sit back and not give a flying fuck about the misogynist's death. She had her duties to the Black family, and that included going through with the practices of returning dead kin to the earth for their afterlife.

Rose stepped back and surveyed her appearance. She was clad in a floor-length black gown of velvet, with flowing sleeves past her wrists and intricate amethysts sewn into the square neckline. The Black colours were a stark contrast to her pale blonde curls, as were the obsidian pins woven into her hair, holding the small apple blossoms in place.

She knew that it was more appropriate to wear lilies or chrysanthemums for such an event, but Rose wasn't going to lie at a something as sacred as a magical funeral. Cygnus hadn't ever given her an indication that there was any innocence of his to restore, and suggesting that the twat had lived a cheerful life was ridiculous to the extreme.

The apple blossoms were admittedly more due than she wanted to give a man that had looked down his nose at her for the simple fact of being female, but Rose desperately wanted this life to have more meaning than her last. A life in which she'd been bitter, reclusive, and someone who was so angry at the world that she'd disregarded any sort of etiquette in order to spite a society that had never lifted a hand to help her, even when she was on the verge of death.

Rose wanted to be more mature about as much as she could, even if the thought of honouring Cygnus felt like pulling her own teeth out. Which she knew was hypocrisy at its finest, but she'd never claimed to be emotionally logical in any manner.

If some part of Rose could still empathise with Tom Riddle, then she could damn well send off Cygnus Black into his next life with some dignity.

She stared at the reflection of the pink blossoms, willing herself to accept them and feel their emotions in her very soul. They were as much for her as they were for her departed relative. An offering of good fortunate, for better things to come in the future; these were ideals that Rose wanted to be able to live by without conscious thought.

Rose told herself that the flowers might even be far more appropriate than she'd ever know, anyway. Rose didn't truly know anything about Cygnus' early years, his life as a young boy who'd sired his first child at the tragically young age of twelve. For all she knew, his vile behaviour could have been a result of decades worth of conditioning and psychological abuse (as was something that was terribly possible with the House of Black from years previous). Or he could have always been a bastard of the highest degree in character, but Rose would never really know the truth about him.

The only thing left to do was forcefully wrap herself in a cloak of maturity that Rose still found fleeting and false, and move forward with determined purpose.

She was Heiress Black, after all.

The best thing about funerals, Rose thought, was that they were too respected to be used as tools for publicity.

Well, usually. She still remembered the spectacle of Dumbledore's funeral – both times – and subtly wrinkled her nose. The dead should be interred in private. Respectfully, quietly, magically. Memorial services and celebrations after the fact were still common among the ennobled Houses, but the actual funerals were supposed to be private affairs for family, not aired for all and sundry.

Like this one. Even if the showing of people was rather sparse, that was more a result of the sad state of their population rather than Cygnus' existence being denied by his living kin. Even with the House of Black slowly rising up from its near extinction in the past years, there were still far too few of them to make a proper showing at anything.

Aunt Cassi was stood back with Uncle Marius' family, all of them making the trip to the manor for the process of sending Cygnus on. Rose's aunt and uncle were eyeing the open casket with barely-hidden distaste, the body of their nephew not seeming to elicit much sympathy from two of his favourite victims of verbal abuse. Siblings consisting of a headstrong and unmarried woman and her Squib brother had been just the sort of people that Cygnus enjoyed metaphorically shitting all over.

Phineas and Helena were holding onto their children tightly, though it seemed that only Scarlett had any real idea of what was happening judging by her fearful gaze as her eyes continuously danced to and from the dead body several feet away.

Callidora was standing with Frank, Alice and Neville, quietly surveying the circular space with her silver eyes when she wasn't keeping half an eye on Neville and Draco quietly chatting to one another. Rose's cousins had their heads together a few feet away from the Longbottoms and Cygnus' daughters, Draco with a conflicted expression on his face. Rose would have to speak to him later. (Between Lucius' earlier incarceration, and becoming embroiled in the heart of the Blacks, Draco Malfoy was a very different person than Rose had known previously.)

The final party was the reason that everyone had decided to dress in the formal attire that wasn't technically required for the funeral rites. The Crabbes and Goyles – well, some of them, anyway – had elected to attend the funeral of Cygnus Black, for apparently no other reason than them grasping at the Black connection to shove themselves up another rung on the social ladder.

Rose might be a royal bitch sometimes, but even she wasn't that callous.

She wouldn't have accused them of such disgusting behaviour if Aunt Cissa hadn't told her that Cygnus' maternal family hadn't contacted them in years. If it weren't for the fact that the House of Black were infinitely more palatable for the masses this time around, Rose had no doubt that the shitty arseholes wouldn't have even bothered to send a letter of condolence.

Cygnus' mother had been Irma Crabbe nee Black, and as such he'd had kin not of the Blacks. Cygnus' uncle Heinrich had been Lord Crabbe before the title passed to his son Friedrich, one of Voldemort's contemporaries. Friedrich had two children, Alfred Crabbe and Prudence Goyle nee Crabbe. These two were the parents of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle respectively, meaning that Draco's loyalty to them went a lot deeper than past Rose had originally assumed. Because she'd been a fucking idiot.

"Rose."

She turned around around to see her father walking towards her with Amelia at his side, the blonde woman only just starting to show, a gentle curve to her stomach that spoke well of the child's health. Sirius Black was clad in robes of black and violet, a stoic – and slightly pained – expression on his face. As harsh as it sounded, everyone just wanted to get on with things so they could get back to their lives, and her dad was no different.

Yes, his uncle had just died, but his wife was expecting their first child together. Not to mention the shop that was only just getting off the ground. He had far more important things to do than stand here and pay heed to a man than had always treated him like shit for no other reason than rebelling against an abusive home life.

Amelia squeezed her husband's hand quickly before walking over to Dora and Ted, leaving the father-daughter duo at the edge of the circle surrounding the open casket.

"So. How long do you think we'll be here?"

Sirius snorted softly. "Far less than an hour if I get my way. There's no real reason for the actual rites to take that long. I hate to use Amy as an excuse, but I do want to get her home so Andi can look her over."

Rose frowned worriedly. "Is everything alright?"

"Nothing's wrong, Bambi," he replied with a small smile, "it's just a case of being safer than sorry. And citing a pregnant woman means I've got a pretty useful 'get out of jail free' card from this bloody mess. Besides, I've got so much to do for Yule, it's not even funny," Sirius added dryly.

She snorted, shaking her head slightly. As this was the first winter with all the Blacks as a cohesive unit, it had been decided – by Narcissa – that the family would enjoy Yule at Black Manor. There was also going to be a melded celebration with Christmas – as stated by Andromeda – as well as a day of decorating the manor with traditional magical ornaments – because Cassiopeia Black was nothing if not proud of her heritage, and was determined to drag every single one of her kin into lessons of magical society, whether they wanted to learn or not.

Essentially, Sirius Black couldn't win an argument against a woman to save his life. Rose was thoroughly entertained.

Before she could needle him further, his expression turned blank once more, looking every inch the Lord he had once scorned becoming. However, this Lord Black was somebody to be respected, depended on, admired. Her father hadn't grown into the awful men of his past, he was his own person. He was kind where his ancestors were cruel, giving in place of controlling, loving instead of distant. The man that had once adopted her in a spur-of-the-moment drunken epiphany was now the epitome of strength, and Rose was beyond happy for her dad.

"Let's go."

Rose followed the man slowly, watching out the corner of her eye as the assembled crowd made their way over to the blessed circle beside the family crypts. She stamped down on the flash of anger at her birth parents being buried somewhere other than The Pottery, resolving to sort out that issue sooner rather than later. Her anger had no place here though, so she carried on around the casket.

The guests stood in a loose circle around the space, facing inwards towards the body of Cygnus. Rose was inside along with her father, Aunt Cissa and Aunt Andi. The four of them would be the driving force for the ceremony, enabling tradition to be carried out to the letter.

Magical funerals worked using four people for the four elements, though the question of 'who' often depended on the structure of the family itself. The Lord or Lady of a House was required for the ceremony as it was the Family magic – being directed by the Head of House – that worked to release the deceased person from the bonds of life. The other three positions weren't designated to a specific person or position, however. The common practice was for direct blood relatives to send their family on, however any member of the household could step in if required. And of course, the Heir or Heiress was useful for assisting in directing the Family magic if there were still spaces available.

Her dad was of course needed as Lord Black, and Cygnus' parents and siblings were all dead themselves, as was his wife. His youngest two daughters weren't, however, so they'd stepped forward to participate in the funeral. That left an additional spot for anyone else of Black blood to assist, though considering the character of the man in question, it was no real surprise that nobody had been rushing to volunteer.

That left Rose to make up the numbers. Aunt Cassi probably would have been better at this sort of tradition if it weren't for the perpetual sneer on her face whenever her late nephew was mentioned, her lips curling up into something twisted and repulsive. The woman hadn't gone into detail about her relationship with Cygnus, but the glacial tone to her silver eyes was enough of an explanation in and of itself. It made Rose mournful in an abstract way, that somebody could live their life so horribly that even their own family weren't devastated at their own passing.

If there was ever a thought to inspire good living, it was that right there.

Sirius Black stood in the position of North, after which came Andromeda for East, Rose for South, and Narcissa as West. It was about balance; Rose and her father were Lord and Heiress, hence they were opposite one another, leaving the siblings to face themselves over their father. The positioning itself was enough to evoke the magic of their surroundings, and Rose tensed a little at the Black magic curling around her form.

Her father shifted his feet a step and the crowd fell quiet, carefully watching the Lord Black stand with his shoulders back and head held high. The solemn look on the usually mischievous man made Rose's chest ache, both from the knowledge of Sirius' years of suffering, and pride at how he'd overcome so many demons to be here today.

If there was one thing that would never change in Rose's life, it was how much she was proud of her parents. All of them.

The Lord Black pulled his shoulders back slowly and silently cleared his throat. "As we all believe in Life after Death, an eternal cycle of our spiritual selves, Death itself is a process to respect before we may meet them again in the next Life.

"Let us call for Peace from Mother Magic, that in this place of Peace she may be heard by us all."

Rose opened her mouth and joined in with her family, enveloped in their shared magic.

"May there be Peace in the East.

May there be Peace in the South.

May there be Peace in the West.

May there be Peace in the North."

When the four of them stopped speaking in unison, a cold wind blew through the clearing, sending the scattered leaves around them flying. Perhaps there really was a grain of truth in the weather reflecting the emotions of those below, she thought, eyeing the darkening clouds in the sky above. Depressingly appropriate.

Andromeda stepped forward, austere and proper in every way possible. It was rather disconcerting. "Spirits and Magic of the East, Powers of Air, we call upon you here. Bring to us bright memories of Cygnus, of times long past, and of the songs of life that guided him so. Blessed be."

The brunette took a step back, a well of regret in her eyes that told Rose more than any words ever would. There was some part of Cygnus Black that should be mourned. Andromeda wasn't a spiteful woman, or overly prideful, yet she certainly wasn't somebody to roll over and forgive at the drop of a hat. If she was responding to her father's funeral in such a manner, then Rose had no doubt that her dearly departed uncle hadn't always been a complete and utter bastard.

Which certainly helped her resolve in this very moment.

Rose lifted her head, standing proud and moved forward for her own part. She was going to do this right, was going to go forward willing and ready to pray for Cygnus to find a better life in his next. She would be mature about this, stubborn pride be damned.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before reciting her own lines. "Spirits and Magic of the South, Powers of Fire, we call upon you here. Keep the fire of our hopes for Cygnus alive in the memory of this lover of the sun and of Helios. Blessed be."

Rose finished solemnly and retreated, staring blankly at the deceased figure mere feet away from her. Maybe next time he too would get another chance.

"Spirits and Magic of the West, Powers of Water, we call upon you here." Narcissa's dignified voice echoed around the clearing, directing the magic to all present with nary a thought. She looked so strong now. Strong, and beautiful, and poised beyond reproach. (There was a reason that she and Lucius Malfoy had been a brilliant match in terms of politics and aesthetics.) "Open our hearts, let our tears and love flow from within to where it is much needed. Bring us healing and renewal. Remember Cygnus who loved his life, valued his friends and cherished his magical family. Blessed be."

The time traveller watched her fellow blonde finish, her blue eyes – so like Rose's own, yet simultaneously so different – as cold as ice, as was her entire person. Rose didn't think anyone else would ever achieve the same level of frozen dignity as Narcissa could, even if there was a hint of anger in the sky blue depths that Rose could uncomfortably relate to. It wasn't a nice feeling.

Her father taking a step was enough to send a harsh jolt through her very being, her breath catching at the imposing sight. This life had been immensely different from the very moment that she'd woken up in that accursed cupboard, but it was this sight that resonated with her very soul.

For all her life, Sirius Black had been a rebel against tradition, using his bitter regret to scorn ages of culture in order to protect his wounded soul. He had been too cavalier, never in earnest concerning his responsibilities as a wizard of their society. The concept of abiding by the revered culture of their world hadn't even been a blip on his radar, and Rose knew that his behaviour in his early life had been rather appalling, to say the least.

But here and now … Her father was Lord Black, not only in appearance or by chance as the next in line, but within his very being. He wasn't simply adorned in robes and wearing the ring as a symbol of abstract power, he was the Head of House Black. Rose could feel a warmth from her Black ring, the sensation seeping deep within her, beyond even her physical body. This man was a powerful figure, but more than that, he was a human. Sirius Black was a father, a husband, a Lord, and above all, a grounded and caring man.

Voldemort and Dumbledore might be dead now, but it was this sight that was the biggest difference in this life.

"Spirits and Magic of the North, Powers of the Earth, we call upon you here." His words rang out across the space, even without raising his voice. "From you we have once come; to you we shall once more return. Bring to us Strength. Remember Cygnus to whom you gave strength and wisdom and embraced in his passing. Blessed be."

Warmth suffused her body even as a chill swept through her. Rose could see she wasn't the only one affected and noticed Dora out the corner of her eye, subtly rubbing her arms to dispel the goosebumps. Combined with her dark robes and brunette hair for the day, the woman was a far cry from Rose's nominally sarcastic and vivacious cousin. It seemed to be par for the course today.

Her father took an additional step towards the casket and let his blank silver eyes rest on it for a few seconds, looking to be in deep thought. He blinked suddenly before lifting his head, keeping in place though allowing his piercing gaze to sweep over the small gathering. Rose had no doubt it was chilling to see; Sirius Black as a man wielding his not-inconsiderable power was a sight to behold.

"We meet here today, in both sadness and joy, to say a sincere farewell to Cygnus, a much loved brother, husband, uncle and son.

"We are sad at the closing of this chapter, yet we should be joyful by this closing as a new chapter can begin. We meet to commend Cygnus to the blessing of the Spirits and Mother Magic, that he may rest, free of illusion or regret, until the time shall come for his rebirth to this world.

"And knowing that this shall be so, we know too, that this sadness is nothing and that the joy is all."

Sirius ceased speaking, the sombre words having flowed without effort, painting an image of a man of deep power, yet directed through controlled restraint. He'd begun the prayers, now it was time for his cousin to continue them.

Andromeda shifted in her spot and lifted her chin, willing yet defiant, angry yet mournful, determined yet torn. Death always did have a habit of pulling people in all directions at once.

"Mother Magic, parent of us all, we ask for your Blessings on this our ceremony of thanksgiving, and honouring and blessing of Cygnus.

"We stand at a Gateway now.

"A Gateway that each of us must step through at some time in our lives. Cygnus has stepped through this Gateway already.

"His soul is immersed in the shining light of Magic that is the parent of us all. The sadness and pain that we feel now is in our knowledge and our experience of the fact that we ourselves cannot yet cross the threshold to be with Cygnus until our time has come."

Rose shivered where she stood. Mentioning the Gateway in her presence, right in front of the very father that had perished via the Veil, was more than enough to make her feel dizzy, nauseous with long-buried grief. His being here now wasn't enough to erase her devastating memories from before. Anyone who thought otherwise was beyond foolish.

"Let us spend some time in silence to remember Cygnus," her father carried on stoically, "to call him up in our minds and to speak to him in the private places of our heart, saying to him those things that we always wanted to say to him."

And so began the two minutes of silence, akin to the silence of Remembrance Day every year in the non-magical world. It was a time used for the same purpose, to remember and cherish and communicate in silence. Rose felt like a fish out of water.

Why? Why could you never see me as I was? Was me being a female the true root of your problems with me? And if so, why? Were you raised with a strict view of patriarchy? Were you ridiculed and scorned for only having daughters? Were you resentful of the line of succession? What was it that made you such a horrid man?

Rose questioned silently in her mind, over and over and over again, yet she wasn't surprised to receive no answer. Perhaps one day her inner magic could allow the barriers of life and death to fade somewhat, to allow her to commune easier, but today was not to be that day. Even if she'd been more familiar with magic surrounding death, she knew full well that she'd receive no answer from her dead cousin. Communing with the dead was difficult enough. Having an entirely absent relationship with the person in question made it impossible.

Narcissa steadied herself and began speaking, the very picture of dignity that Rose so admired.

"The Blessings of the Ancestors and of Family and Friends are with you, Cygnus, as you travel beyond. There is a reason for leaving, to pause, to rest, and to wait for those that are loved. For the world beyond is a land of Eternal Summer, and of of Joy, far from the cares of this world, with happiness and youth renewed. So Mote it Be."

With the end of her declaration, Rose took a deep breath and opened her mouth with her other three companions.

"Earth my body

Water my blood

Air my breath

Fire my spirit."

The simple proclamation was repeated another three times, four in total to resonate with each of them and the cardinal directions. The more they spoke, the more she could feel, and Rose could have sworn that she'd been sprinting for ages the way her heart was thundering in the presence of sheer magic.

Narcissa stepped forward once more, her blue eyes boring into the image of her father. Rose, for all that she was curious by nature, was sure that she didn't want to know what had caused that expression on her aunt's face. Despite what many thought, ignorance could be bliss.

"Did you know it was time to fly?

I didn't want to say Goodbye.

We all know this is not the End,

Farewell for now, my dear, dear, Friend."

Her fellow blonde quieted and Rose felt the eyes of her kin focusing on her, boring into her with intensity as she shifted forwards slightly. The words for the ceremony were what she'd learned, but learned with a fervent wish that she would never have to use them. A pipe dream.

Yet again, the joke was on her.

"Do not weep for me for I have not gone.

I am the wind that shakes the mighty Oak.

I am the gentle rain that falls upon your face.

I am the spring flower that pushes through the dark earth.

I am the chuckling laughter of the mountain stream.

Do not weep for me for I have not gone.

I am the memory that dwells in the heart of those that knew me.

I am the shadow that dances on the edge of your vision.

I am the wild goose that flies south at Autumn's call and I shall return at Summer rising.

I am the stag on the wild hill's way.

I am just around the corner.

Therefore, the wise weep not,

But rejoice at the transformation of my Being.

So Mote it Be."

Rose swallowed thickly. She felt the words resonate deeply, as if she were saying farewell to more than just Cygnus Black. Maybe part of herself, too.

Perhaps she was.

"You have been called from the place of your dwelling,

May blessed soul-friends guide you,

May helping spirits lead you,

May the Gatherer of Souls call you,

May the homeward path rise up under your feet

And lead you gladly home."

Andromeda's warm voice was tinged with hope and genuine emotion, so much so that Rose could feel the Family magic respond to her will. The area was still chilled and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but the young blonde could sense a calm in the air, a call for peace that touched them all. Maybe the ceremony could be somewhat of a success, after all.

Without a word, her father turned to lead the group of four into the adjoining crypt, the casket being levitated behind them. This was a place where nobody outside of the family could enter without express permission, and even then it was rare to have somebody not of House Black visiting. While it was true that there were others of Black blood present just outside, this part of the ceremony was only for the four participants to take part in, let alone witness. This was why funerals in magical Britain were sacred, not only for the spiritual connotations, or even the opportunity for family to grieve as they wanted in private, but because the magical ritual was one in which the family could invite danger if they weren't careful. And there's the little issue of legality, of course, because why wouldn't funerals be illegal?

Rose allowed her eyes to wander as the casket of her father's uncle was sealed shut, runes flashing a stark black against the white surface before fading into nothing. She was more interested in the size of the crypts, noticing the stairs and seemingly endless corridors amidst the stony caverns. It was massive, no doubt. Definitely bigger than the burial site at the edge of The Pottery, but then again, the House of Potter had never been one for focusing on numbers.

She could feel the magic in the air, the centuries worth of spells designed to make the crypts larger on the inside, spells for structural integrity, preservation, spiritual and magical balance … It was overwhelming to her senses, yet there was also a feeling of rightness in the air, even with the centuries worth of bodies tucked away inside the walls.

There was a reason that Tom Riddle had never attempted to use a magical burial site in his schemes, and for once it hadn't been hubris.

Rose flicked her eyes back to the middle of this particular cavern, studying the circle of runes now around Cygnus' coffin. They weren't charged yet, and wouldn't be until this particular prayer, said in the original order of their declarations to the cardinal directions. As always, Andromeda was a woman of action and just got on with it. Rose really did admire her.

The brunette took a ceremonial dagger from Sirius, holding it firmly in her right hand for a second before resolutely slicing a line up the middle of her left hand. She grimaced at the obvious pain but remained silent, simply turning the bleeding appendage upside down so that she could cover the runes closest to her. One drop, two, seven, she stopped, pulling her hand back as she spoke softly into the eerie silence.

"Deep Peace of the Blazing Sun to You."

The runes remained thick blocks of chalk, rough yet confident, however there was now a distinct hum in the air, a hint of a promise. The very notion made no sense to Rose's logical mind, yet she knew her interpretation to be true. It was … strange.

She took the blade from her aunt and repeated the same motion, meeting her father's eyes as she did so. He looked mournful, almost guilty, and she was so tempted to run from her spot and bury into his arms. Hold him close and try and reassure him, make him see that she wasn't being forced into this in any way. But she couldn't, not when she'd promised to do this.

Rose wasn't going to go back on her word here, no matter what.

"Deep Peace of the Radiant Moon to You."

The sight of her own blood made her slightly queasy. Aware of her own life. She mentally shook off the thought; her past had no bearing on the present. Not now at least.

Narcissa looked every inch the noblewoman as she stood dripping blood onto the runes. Strong, proud, feminine, unmovable. If there was every a woman to show that women could be both lady and warrior, it was Narcissa Black.

"Deep Peace of the Shining Stars to You."

Her dad took the blade from his blonde cousin and cut himself without hesitation, without fear of reprisal that his actions could potentially send him back to Azkaban for illegal magic, and Rose could feel her heart clench with pride at how far he had come from the scatterbrained and fearful man that had left that miserable island last year. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"Deep Peace of the Flowing Wind to You."

The circle was complete for one turn, but yet another remained before the final arc.

"Deep Peace of the Running Wave to You."

"Deep Peace of the Quiet Earth to You."

"And the Blessing of the Spirits and Mother Magic be with You and remain with You this today and forever."

"Hail and Farewell."

The chalk on the ground lit up with an ethereal glow, illuminating the smooth grey stone of the crypts, along with the various decorations of nearby graves, and let out a pulse of warmth that they could all feel. The circle around the coffin slowly shrunk, smaller and smaller, receding as it seemed to slide up onto the wooden lid, forming a smaller yet no less impressive runic circle in the epicentre of the lid.

All of a sudden, the movement stilled and the runes flashed once more, light dimming until all that remained was a circle denoting so many runes it was impossible to tell them apart, at least without magnifying them to take a closer look. Right in the middle, wrapped around each other and the perfect balance were Algiz and Yr, Life and Death. Magic could not exist without both to counteract the other, and they were used now to symbolise the cyclical nature of the ceremony they were currently taking part in.

Rose watched on, aware but feeling eerily detached from the situation, strangely blank as Cygnus' casket was finally placed in its final resting space. A stone slab, engraved and modestly simple was moved to cover the opening of the crevice before being sealed permanently, never to be opened again.

"Spirits and Magic of the North, Powers of the Earth," murmured Sirius. "Thank you for the land that Cygnus walked upon, for the beauty in the plants and trees that gave him so much pleasure. Thank you for sustaining him. Hail and Farewell."

Narcissa merely blinked once, then carried on with a clear voice. "Spirits and Magic of the West, Powers of Water. Thank you for quenching Cygnus' thirst, inspiring and washing him. Hail and Farewell."

Rose ignored the irrational urge to scream and recited her lines, wishing for once her mind would stop working. "Spirits and Magic of the South, Powers of Fire. Thank you for the warmth of the summers Cygnus enjoyed and for the warmth of his heart. Hail and Farewell."

"Spirits and Magic of the East, Powers of Air. Thank you for supporting Cygnus with every breath he took, and may the last breath that he took in this life become the first that he took in the next. Hail and Farewell," Andromeda finished with a faint tint of grief in her voice.

Her father stepped forward to his uncle's grave and drew his wand, slowly tracing his wand over the headstone in the shape of Algiz and Yr as he spoke quietly.

"May the Blessings of the Uncreated One, of the Created Word and of Mother Magic that is the Inspirer be with you for always."

There was a sense of finality in the air at the silence, an end that was inescapable. For all that Rose had attended many funerals, there was only one traditionally magic ceremony that she'd witnessed first-hand. Frank Longbottom had been her cousin-cum-uncle, and Alice her godmother, hence Neville had had no qualms in inviting her to the private goodbye of his parents. She could admit that the awe she'd felt at seeing such magic had gone a long way towards influencing her eventual career choice, even if the sombre atmosphere had done nothing to help her ever-growing grief.

But this … This was the first funeral that she'd ever participated in herself, and it was for a member of her family. Cygnus was an arse and a misogynistic piece of shit, true, but Rose was never going to be someone who wouldn't admit to her relatives' faults just to make herself look better. She would own up to every crappy thing her kin had done, because she was not a coward who took the easy way out. As long as the truth wasn't going to hurt those she cared about, she didn't particularly care what other people thought about her.

Rose was far too old to be hiding like a child.

She vaguely noticed her aunts retreating out the crypt as fast as they could without looking like they were rushing, the two women no doubt off to surround themselves with their own family units in comfort. It was a nice thought.

Sirius stepped back towards her, reaching a hand up and gently stroking her curls around the apple blossoms. He bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, making her close her eyes before she did something stupid like ask to be carried back to the house like a scared child. The mere idea insulted her.

"If you need anything – and I mean anything – I'll be in the manor, Bambi."

She nodded silently in response, eyes fixed on the engraved name of Cygnus as her father walked away. Rose still felt out of sorts, almost detached from the entire scene. No matter who it was, friend, foe, family, trying to reconcile a person's state of death from their previous life was always difficult for her. She only had to remember the times after her fifth year, when she'd go to write to Sirius to tell him something, only to remember at the last minute that there would be nobody to receive the letter.

It wasn't a nice feeling.

Rose slowly made her way closer to the headstone, stopping mere inches away before placing a hand against the smooth stone. Her other was gripping the Gaunt ring underneath her dress, the Resurrection Stone warm even through the thick dress she was wearing.

"I hope you find what you wanted."

It wasn't formal, or scripted, and the words didn't have any magical purpose, but she hoped that they worked all the same. Nobody ever started off bad; life itself was what turned people into villains. Life began as innocence, and it was that innocence that deserved happiness.

She stepped back and turned around, deliberating for a few seconds. Rose frowned to herself before walking through the crypt for not even a minute until she reached the grave for who she was looking for. She stared at the name, studied the engraving around the edges of the stone. The stark markings of death did nothing to fully convey the entirety of their personality in life.

Walburga Black.

Rose tried not to sneer at the name of the woman who'd treated her father like complete and utter shit as a child, just because he hadn't been the son she'd expected to have. This woman was related to her by blood – was technically even her grandmother after the blood adoption – but Rose didn't think she'd ever consider Walburga to be her family in her soul. Rose might admit the fact out loud, but it would always be lip service, nothing more, nothing less.

This woman had tried to tear her firstborn down, tried to teach him to hate himself. She'd terrorised him and ruined his self-esteem, all for god knows what reason. Wlaburga had never wanted Sirius Black to reach his true potential, all because she was a bitter shrew. Rose wanted to laugh at the irony.

"You failed," she said quietly, staring at the headstone. "You tried everything to ruin him, to make him feel worthless. You tried to stunt his growth, but you failed in every way possible. He's now Lord Black when you never even managed to reach Lady. He has his own Lady now, a wife he loves, and House Black is flourishing under his lead. His family listens to him, loves him, and would do everything they could if he only asked.

"But he wouldn't, because he's a good man. Good, and kind, where you were spiteful and petty. You'll only ever be remembered as the woman who couldn't even be bothered to try and help her son after he was imprisoned, but Dad is the Lord Black who loves his family. He's the Lord Black who works with people.

"He's everything that you never could have imagined being.

"You lost."

Rose Potter gazed at the final resting place of Walburga Black with spiteful pity, a hint of victory in her eyes as she thought of her father. While she might hoped that the dead eventually found some peace in their next life, it didn't mean that she wasn't satisfied at how some things had ended in this one.

Karma really was a bitch.

With a final look, the blonde girl turned on the spot and left. It was time to leave death behind for once.

A/N: Hello again!

I hope that the funeral kind of makes sense. I DO NOT claim to have come up with this myself. I found a pdf online (pagan-transitions . org . uk) for a Pagan funeral, and I pretty much copied it, just altering a few bits and adding some mentions to magic. I'm not saying this is the be all and end all for Pagan funerals either, this is just what I found.

(Some of the poems/prayers were supposed to be in paragraphs, but I couldn't get them to separate without adding line breaks, and they just made it look even more awful. Not a massive difference, but still there.)

I wanted this to get out earlier, but it turns out that working over Christmas and New Years essentially sucks your soul out, hence I was literally just recovering/enjoying some time to myself over the last month. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. See ya later!