A/N: I wished I owned Harry Potter. Alas, I do not. Ms. Rowling, I'd be happy to take it off your hands

Chapter 68: The Funeral

June, 1995

There were crowds outside the cemetery. Many had tears in their eyes, and some were reaching out for the coffin as it passed them. The wards Nambung had placed along the route from the chapel to the cemetery repelled them all, but that did not stop people from reaching out. It was not every day that the route of a coffin of a national hero was open to the public. But as the coffin entered the cemetery, giant stone walls shot into the sky, closing off the funeral to only the few allowed there.

There had not been a debate about the pall bearers. Neville stood at the front along with Akira, and the back was held up by Harry's master and Remus. Slowly they approached the open ground, next to the graves of Harry's mother and father. Anyone of them could have levitated the coffin onto the slab next to the freshly opened ground, but it just felt wrong so with a small grunt they placed the coffin on the slab.

The funeral was going to be closed casket. A few had argued against that, Nambung chief among them. He thought that a realistic enough fake could be made, selling everyone who had not been at the graveyard. It would keep Harry safe, and if he never returned, which was highly likely, it would protect his legacy.

Surprisingly, Minerva had strongly opposed Nambung. He had framed his argument around the safety for Harry, so it was indeed shocking to those in the headmaster's office that she had disagreed. But when she pointed out that Harry would be horrified to learn that a body fake had been placed with his parents, those arguing for a fake conceded. It would indeed be horrible to Harry for the sacred place of his parent's burial to be disturbed by a fake. So the coffin was closed.

"We are here today to lay to rest Harry Potter."

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O-

June 25th, 1995

"I have gathered everyone here to explain the tumultuous moments that ended the final task of the tri-wizard tournament," Dumbledore said from his podium with a heavy sigh. Neville and Hermione had been quizzed a few times since the Phoenix appeared to flash them away, but they both remained silent. It had been observed by their friends that Neville looked more resolved, and by contrast Hermione looked inconsolable. It did not escape notice that Fleur had been flashed away as well, but she had not returned.

"At the end of the task that you all attended, each champion faced an academic test that was tailored to their specific interests. Mr. Krum was asked to decipher multiple clues based on various languages, some non-human. Mr. Diggory would have been asked to combine a variety of transfigurations and charms to take his barrier down, but as you all saw, Mr. Potter took down the barrier."

"Mr. Diggory was supposed to face and defeat a fully grown acromantula. However, a number of other acromantula found their way into the cavern Mr. Diggory was in, and disabled our ability to view Mr. Diggory. When learning that he should have emerged and that the tournament officials were afraid to help, Mr. Potter raced back to help him, Mr. Krum only a few minutes behind." All around the Hufflepuff table, people were staring at Cedric, who just nodded tiredly. He was a day gone from his experience against the spiders, and he suspected he would have nightmares for weeks.

"Ms. Delacour had solved her enchantments and prepared to go assist them, but realizing the risky magic he would be forced to undertake, Harry erected a wall to protect the stadium, and then was able to destroy the spiders threatening the task. We owe Mr. Potter a debt a gratitude for that…at the very least…" Dumbledore trailed off, his eyes going somewhere far away.

"Did Harry really destroy a whole host of acromantula?" Hannah asked Cedric.

"It was insane magic," Cedric said. "I mean, I knew that Harry was stronger than me, but what he did during the task was crazy. I was covered in shields, and I was still knocked to the ground."

"But we all saw him leave the cave with you!" Susan protested. "Where is he now?" Cedric just shrugged at the question. He didn't know. No one really knew. Everyone had fled at top speed at the end of the task, and Harry hadn't been seen since then. Rumors had been flying around the school that Hermione, Neville and Fleur had been picked up by Dumbledore's phoenix around an hour after Harry grabbed the cup, but Hermione and Neville weren't talking, and Fleur was also missing.

"In the aftermath of the defeat of the spiders, an adolescent Nundu was released into the arena. It certainly would have been beyond the staff and I to contain, let alone defeat the beast. Luck was on our side again, as Harry's Master Nambung Sa-Bum and Ms. Eagle were here and led the charge in defeating it. Let us show them our thanks." Not everyone truly knew how dangerous the beast had been, but thunderous applause came from around the hall. This was a threat that they had all seen with their own eyes, something that made sense in a day where almost nothing else did.

Nambung just nodded silently, leaning against the back wall, body half hidden by shadows. Next to him, Rebecca flocked to the praise, blowing kisses to the hall. Slowly the applause died out, and all eyes turned back to Dumbledore. There was clearly still more to the story. Harry was unaccounted for, and while it had been unclear the day before, Fleur was certainly not around anymore. The mystery monster killers were off interest, but not nearly as much as the tri-wizard champion.

"So it's that girl?" Rebecca muttered under his breath. Nambung followed her eyes and saw a young girl at the lion table in Eagle's crosshairs. She couldn't be older than 13. "I don't sense much."

"Harry is many things, but certainly not the boy-who-cried wolf," Nambung told her. "Check it out, that's all he would have asked for."

"For what he did, I'll train her, at least a little bit, even if her power doesn't pan out." Nambung nodded in agreement. "His fight with that dark lord was impressive enough, but what he did at the end? My husband would be thrilled to have an heir with his moral convictions. You did well with him."

"I know. But it wasn't meant to be… that." Rebecca felt Nambung's magic start to rage, so she quieted herself. Nambung had probably not faced true adversary, something he couldn't fight, in a while. Not only had he been unable to stop the end result, but this wasn't something he could fight his way past. It would clearly take the magical premier of Korea a little while to get used to the new status quo, heirless and more importantly without an apprentice.

"The cup was a portkey," Dumbledore was continuing. "It took Harry, who grabbed the cup to allow others to combat the Nundu, out of our reach." He took a deep breath. "While what I will say may seem remarkable, many of you knew Harry well, and saw him do the remarkable in his time here. But what occurred after the task goes beyond anything he had ever done before. Harry was taken by servants of Lord Voldemort, and a dark ritual was completing, allowing the dark lord to regain a body." The hall went quiet for a moment, before erupting into a tumultuous wave of sound.

"Did you discuss with the greybeard what he would tell everyone?" Rebecca asked.

"Briefly," Nambung told the woman. "I said he could say whatever he wanted, as long as it was clear that people shouldn't hold their breath over Harry's return. I think he decided to make up a tale where Harry died killing Voldemort, and the French girl- Fleur, left after he fell." She deserved to be referred to by name. What she had done was probably braver than what Harry did.

"Harry was able to recover his wand and engaged in combat with Voldemort, holding him at bay until the staff and I arrived," Dumbledore was telling the now spellbound crowd of students. "The staff and I engaged some of the men who had come to the now resurrected Dark Lord's aid, allowing Harry to truly begin his combat in earnest. He could have fled with us, allowing himself time to heal after an already exhausting day. But Harry refused to quit, and after a battle that words could not do justice, Harry destroyed the dark lord once and for all." This time the stunned silence was interrupted by giant cheers.

Dumbledore allowed the cheers to go on for almost an entire minute. He suspected the cheers would have gone on longer, but the Gryffindor table was the first to quiet. They had seen the looks on the faces of Harry and Neville, who would have been leading the cheers if Dumbledore was done. But their faces now showed only hazard resignation and Hermione didn't bother to hide the tears sliding down her face.

"The magic Harry used to ensure the dark lord would never return was remarkable, but it came at a high cost. After ensuring Voldemort would no longer return, Mr. Potter unfortunately was gravely wounded. Some of you may have seen my phoenix Fawkes arriving and taking Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Granger, and Ms. Delacour away a day past. Harry was able to hold on long enough to say goodbye to his closest friends, but in the end, he passed as well. Britain truly lost one of the greatest wizards to ever grace it's shores."

"We will forever owe Harry an unpayable debt, both as a baby, and now, knowing full well what he was doing, what he was giving up to ensure that our friends and loved ones would remain safe. I will not pretend that I was a confidant or mentor to Harry this year. In fact, I would guess that this year I failed Harry as a headmaster and a wizard. But I am sure of his character, and Harry would have no regrets."

"He would want us to go on. He would not want us to lament his passing. We can honor him with stories, we can give him awards, we could name things after him. But that is only a paltry response to what Harry did. When given the chance to take the tri-wizard cup, Harry prioritized the safety of his friends. When given the chance to escape, Harry stared down evil and did not flee."

"Not many of us can take on dark wizards in combat. That is not the role of the average witch or wizard. It is why we have champions like Harry Potter. But we all have our role to play. Standing up for what is right. No matter the cost, doing what is right, not what is easy. And when you have the choice, when you are faced a dilemma, remember Harry Potter: The man who chose to do what is right, forever and always." Dumbledore sat, and Minerva bent over in tears. Akira put an arm around her, which set the floodgates loose.

The twins surreptitiously turned to the house of snakes, but apparently most of them could read the room. Many people had tears, and more than a few close friends were shocked to silence. There was no mouthing off or jokes from the Slytherins. With the tension in the room, any bad word against Harry would have been met with harsh words at best, and outright violence from worst.

"What happened to Fleur?" Lavender asked Neville. "Dumbledore said she went with you?" Neville shot Hermione a quick glance.

"After Harry… she didn't want to stay. I think her family went back yesterday." McGonagall had instructed both of them on how to respond to inquiries. "She was really only here for Harry anyways." The surrounding Gryffindor's nodded in understanding.

"She really loved him, didn't she?" Alicia said quietly to one of the twins who nodded.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O-

June, 1995

"Harry was my best friend," Hermione started. "I have known Harry since he saved me in first year. I was stuck in the bathroom, with less than two months of magic in my mind, and a troll was trying to club me to death. I thought I was gone for sure, and then all of the sudden a tiny black haired boy was on the troll's back, and his wand was up his nose. I don't know if I have ever seen anything so crazy and brave."

"Of course, that was just a prelude. It was the bravest thing I had ever seen, and yet every year, Harry found another thing, time after time, to set a new standard for bravery and selflessness. I don't know that anyone truly understood the force of nature that was Harry Potter. He was kind, clever, and sweet. But if you dared to threaten his friends or the people he cared for, and a different person existed entirely."

"That second person, the one who fought for the protection of others changed this year." Hermione gave the assembled mourners a mournful smile. "But he deserved everything we gave him none the less. Someone once said that a hero is a man covered in blood, who denies the adulation of others. Harry wasn't covered in blood even if he bore the burden at times. And he certainly denied the adulation.

He was a hero to the end, the hero we needed. We didn't deserve him, but we got him all the same. We got all of him. We got the hero Harry Potter. But before he was that hero, the man who gave his life so none of us would have to, he was that silly boy with messy black hair and green eyes. He was that foolish boy who jumped on a troll's back and stuck his wand up the troll's nose. He was my friend Harry." Hermione's tears were rolling freely now and she seemed to fold in on herself and collapse. McGonagall had to lead her away, her arms grasping desperately for the coffin.

It took a few moments before Harry's master strode up to the coffin. His eyes were on Hermione as Harry's grandmother enfolded her in a hug. It had been a moving speech, and he saw tears scattered around the crowd. Harry's godfather was inconsolable, as was his honorary aunt. The two remaining champions were stunned. Even as she was comforting Harry's inconsolable best friend, the transfiguration mistress did not look much better.

"Harry never would have wanted to be called a hero," Nambung begun. "But make no mistake he was. He made the ultimate sacrifice for us all." Nambung had been ready to dive through that hole, content to never return. But Harry was right. It wasn't his role. He would never forgive the country for the ultimate sacrifice it had demanded of Harry.

He knew the statistics all too well. Over 95% of those who took the mastery test never returned. He remembered his own test with horror. He would never divulge the details, as it was the unspoken rule of those who took that test. But for Harry to survive and return was a foolish dream to hold on to and he was many things, but a foolish man was not one of them.

"He killed a dark lord. Those who step up and take down men who have gone so dark that they make even the strongest of stomachs clench, and make lesser wizards and witches run for cover. He believed it was his task, and he fulfilled it." Nambung looked at the coffin with something akin to fury. Why had he believed that stupid prophecy? It took a supreme effort to not train his wand on the stupid man who had heard the prophecy that governed Harry to stay in that graveyard and start the chain of events that would lead to the death of his heir and the bravest witch he had ever had the honor to know.

"I didn't train him to stand like he did." Nambung hadn't had to shove down sorrow. Not ever. But now he shoved that down, so that wherever his apprentice was, he could hear him. "If anything, I trained him to the do the opposite. Faced with the impossible, the unbelievable, I told him to leave it to others. That his existence was meant for greater things, and look what he did? He did it anyways."

"I certainly expect him to do this." He stood there silently for a moment. "What a surprise right? All that time with me, and he was still a foolish boy who needed to be a hero, no matter the personal cost. His life was worth more than so many I have known, but he gave it up for them." He swept his hand at the crowd beyond the obscured graveyard.

"It was admirable, I suppose. I'm sure that he will be praised by thousands, venerated by even more. But it's weird. Despite his actions… I have no idea why, but I don't think I can praise you at all." He stared at the coffin at what felt like an eon. "I'm sure others will, too many to count. Some who Harry knew, but many more who Harry never knew, even those that he didn't even know existed. But I can't praise you. Not one bit." With a final regretful pat on the coffin, lightning flashed and the enigmatic lord of lightning disappeared, to take his terrible vengeance on the organization that had cost him his most precious person.

Neville was the next one to step up. "You know," Neville said. "Harry changed a lot this year, but I think he was still a person we all respected. Respected a lot, but maybe not as much as we should have. I wouldn't presume to know Harry as much as Hermione. I'm not crazy." That drew the faintest of laughs from the crowd. "But I like to think that he was still the Harry we all knew and respected under it all. He certainly changed, but he what he wanted…"

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O-

June, 1995

"I can't even imagine winning," Harry admitted. "Well, not at the beginning."

"Oh, it was so inconceivable after seeming like a pre-cog to dodge a dragon?"

"It was never a question of ability," Harry disagreed. Dean just chuckled.

"Look, I know you are more confident now, but if you don't mind me being brutally honest now?" Neville asked. Harry just gestured for the Longbottom Scion to continue. "You've gotten pretty arrogant at times."

"Neville, what is the difference between confidence, arrogance, and hubris?" Harry asked simply.

"How attractive you are to girls," Dean sniped, but a look from Harry silenced him.

"For those of you who aren't sardonic just to piss me off, the difference is how you show it," Harry shot back.

"You mind elaborating?"

The major difference between confidence and arrogance is where it is expressed. Confidence is internal whereas arrogance is external. Before I fight, I fight a thousand times in my mind. For most I fight, especially for those here, I win 999 of those fights. That builds my confidence. When I continually remind myself of my strengths, it builds confidence."

"If I so chose, I could go around picking fights and maiming or killing people here. What would people do? Send aurora after me to drive up the body count?"

"There's the arrogance right there," Neville spat.

"Neville. Do you not think that arrogance stops idiots from challenging me?" That question rocked Neville back. "The fools who think my win over Bellatrix was a fluke. The people who think a lucky hit could destroy the light, even if I am more a dark shade of grey? I express my confidence externally because it keeps people from drawing their wand in my presence."

Harry saw realization in Neville and Dean's eyes. He did keep the last [art of his master's explanation to himself. To Nambung, there was not a man left in Britain who could threaten him. He deserved the arrogance, as the fact he was returning to the island could never be turned in hubris. Dumbledore has harshly corrected that belief, but the headmaster and him had seemed to come to a ceasefire after their duel. Dumbledore respected him, and Harry the headmaster.

"Besides, like Dean joked, arrogance is fairly unattractive. I suspect I might have some crazy fights in the future. If I seem more unattractive, hopefully people won't continue this stupid hero worship."

"Dude, you killed Voldemort and Bellatrix," Dean pointed out. "The only thing more impressive would be killing Merlin. And if you do that, you won't be the boy-who-lived. You are worried they will see you as the second of Merlin? You are already half way there."

"Oh, Voldemort isn't dead," Harry muttered darkly. Neville and Dean looked at each other, confused. "People seem to have forgotten I was forced into this tournament. I only have one man in England who wants my death so badly."

"Voldemort?" Neville asked.

"I guess it's possible," Dean cautiously admitted.

"Doesn't matter anyways," Harry told them. "I hope it was him. I'll tear him apart, and it will be done." The bloodlust in his voice had Neville drawing back. "I owe him that."

"Harry.." Neville started.

"You know the crazy thing?" Harry said. "I actually admire him." That was perhaps the craziest thing Harry had ever said. "He had some good ideas. Wizarding Britain was stagnating. People looked at Dumbledore to answer every problem. The pureblood ideology was killing this country. The way he went about it was surely crazy, but change was needed. He made changes.

"Ollivander once told me that he I was destined for greatness. Not because of what I did as a child, that didn't matter to him. But because of my wand, my first wand, with the same core as Voldemort." This talk at night was just full of jaw dropping revelations. "He told me that Dark Lord did great things. Terrible, but great. I think he has the right of it."

"I guess," Neville said reluctantly. This wasn't the harry he had come to know, but it all made sense, in a twisted kind of way.

"I suspect everyone suspects that I can go make those same changes. Lead the light, campaign for muggleborn, lead the light in the Wizengamot, more nonsense like that. Can I tell you something? I don't have any intent to do anything of that. Voldemort is my task. Once I finish, I'll be famous for something else. And hopefully, I'll be able to disappear." Neville and Dean laughed at the ridiculous of that statement.

"You kill Voldemort, England is going to sink it's claws into you forever."

"You might be right," Harry said, his face turning thoughtful. "Perhaps I will have to find a more complex solution."

"You know you could make changes. Real changes."

"I don't want power, Neville. You can have it all."

"What do you want then?"

"I never told you what my master said to me about death, did I?" Harry seemed to lose himself as he gazed into the crackling fire, and Neville became acutely aware that they were alone in the common room. "He said he saw the faces of the men he killed. They say welcome brother. Come join us. Where you belong."

"If I follow his path, I will become the same, I think. If I follow the other path, the masses may look to me for answers. You know what I want Neville? I want to fall in love. I want to be a father, send my children to school, grow old. I want to see them find happiness and love as I did. What I want Neville? I want peace."

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O—O-O-O-

June, 1995

"That was the Harry I knew," Neville finished his story. He had cut out some of the gory stuff. It didn't fit with the tone of the funeral. It was an edited version of who Harry was, the perfect hero. If Harry had been here, he probably would have hit Neville repeatedly. But Harry wasn't here, might never be here again. And Harry had put a heavy responsibility on him. He was willing to lead, but if he did, if he honed the last request of his brother in arms, he would lie to everyone, lie to himself, create that perfect picture for him to follow.

"Harry meant something to everyone here," Neville said with a sad smile. "He meant something different to the hordes of people outside, something that he wasn't. He was a symbol of hope to all of us, for sure. But to me, and so many others, he was more than that."

"He led by example. He showed us the way, the way to make the hard choice, to take a heavy burden on himself so that others didn't have to. He showed valor and true courage befitting the hero others will glorify him as. I'm sure he is shouting at us that he doesn't want it." A smile broke through, even if it was tinged with pain and suffering. Harry was truly gone. The last vestige of hope that Harry might return to lead them again died as Neville stood there staring at the tears of the crowd. It was his burden now, and he would bear it proudly.

"The headmaster says that death is not the end, but rather the beginning of the next adventure. Take that adventure and worry not for us. We will carry the torch that you lit. We owe it to you, for all you did for us. Your fight is over. You can lay your wand down now. We will take it in your place."

"He achieved one of his dreams, to be sure. He is certainly no longer famous as the boy-who-lived. He took revenge for his parents, and will always be remembered for his own acts, not the sacrifice of his parents. No longer that. But sometimes…" Neville couldn't stop the tears from starting to fall, "sometimes the price of dreams is achieving them."

"He was forced to lead in a time he should not have, did not have the childhood he deserved. It made him the man he was, the hero he was." He placed his hand on the coffin. Unabashed tears slid down his face. He felt like this was suffocating, all eyes on him. He was shaking now, but he would give Harry the final gift he could "You are free now." With that Neville walked away, his head held high, until he found a quiet place a crypt unobserved by those paying their last respects. And he wept.

Not for Harry the hero. Not for the man who was his god brother, who gave him hope. Not for the man who taught him how to fight, who taught him how to stand for what was right. Not for the man who did what was right, no matter the personal cost. Not even for the boy who did not know how little time he had. But for the man, who against all odds, he hoped could finally, finally find his peace.