Author's Note:
Yes, I'm back! I'm also on AO3 and intend on cross-posting all of my newer fic over here.
This is a submission for QLFC, Season 9, Round 2: Once upon a song.
Team: Tutshill Tornados.
Position: Seeker.
Prompt: Hakuna Matata.
Word Count: 2,543
Trigger Warnings: canon death of a character
This was beta'd by both the amazing Tres and the lovely AFamiliarWitch. My sincere thanks and appreciation to both of you!
I hope you enjoy!
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Every inhabitant of the Burrow was clad in black and wearing a mourning ring on the middle finger of their non-dominant hand. Even the Burrow itself was shrouded in darkness: mirrors covered in the hopes that Fred Weasley's soul wouldn't become trapped in his childhood home. A dense cloud of despair lay low over the fields and mingled with the acrid smoke rising from the funeral pyre. It was eerily quiet inside the home that had never been silent, Wizards and Witches moving like little more than wraiths, caught up in their bittersweet remembrances and self-recriminatory guilt.
Although there was a funeral-pyre, it was more for traditions' sake than anything else. . The family had long ago ceased using cremation, choosing to bury their loved ones instead, with their heads facing west to allow the departed soul to go into the sun feet first. Harkening back to their Celtic roots, it was traditional for the family to travel in a mourning procession from the graveyard to the home for a wake. The procession always ended with the patriarch and matriarch lighting a pyre together, the smoke symbolizing their family member being released from their earthly bonds and soaring to the kingdom of the sky.
The pyre was to burn overnight and throughout the next day, each family member feeding the fire in turn, the dancing flames symbolizing the presence of the Lost One watching over their home. The morning began with Arthur acting in his role as patriarch as he used magic to build a stone cross for his son, placing it in the family's memorial garden. After a day of meditation and contemplation, friends and acquaintances began to arrive, each one bearing an offering for the family and dropping flowers onto the smouldering pile before joining the burgeoning crowd.
At first, the atmosphere was grim, voices subdued in their grief. Soon, however, memories of Fred's outlandish pranks, combined with the playing of his favourite songs, allowed those present to celebrate his life, rather than focus on his death.
On the opposite side of the pyre from the house, well away from where he would be tripped over, a lone figure sat on the ground under a family heirloom. Round framed glasses partially obscured emerald eyes that stared unseeing at the dark ash floating on the gentle breeze. His too-thin body shivered in the late May dampness, the Invisibility Cloak doing little for warmth around the shoulders of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. Harry had begged off breakfast that morning, his stomach tied in knots and still too used to being empty after a year on the run and a lifetime of starvation. It had still been early when he quietly made his way out of the Burrow to his sentry place, whispering his apologies to his friend as he added branches to keep the fire burning.
He was largely alone until a warm body settled beside the indentation he made in the grass, another moving silently to settle at his other side as a third sat across from him. Harry flinched as a feminine hand reached out and pulled his Invisibility Cloak off to reveal him to the world, passers-by stopping abruptly and taking a single step towards the quartet before a Disillusionment spell was raised and the mourners continued their trek up to the house.
"Mum's starting to worry, mate," Ron said quietly, passing a sandwich wrapped in oil-cloth to his best friend. "She's not the only one." The red-head was immediately smacked in the arm by Hermione, and she sighed with exasperation.
"How are you doing, Harry?"
Harry's laugh was in no way humorous, the sound low and bitter as he shook his head and verdant eyes glanced from one face to another. "I'm sitting here after the funeral of my friend, your brother, because I didn't kill Voldemort fast enough." He shook his head as the other teens flinched. "I'm not calling Tom 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' or whatever the Prophet has decided is the latest name for him. I wasn't afraid to call him by name; I refuse to give him the satisfaction in death."
Ginny leaned forward to place one slender hand on Harry's knee. "Harry, you killed him when you could. You did your best."
"I wasn't fast enough!" The exclamation rang out to hang in the still air, echoing in Harry's head. "Fred died," he croaked, nearly choking as the grief overwhelmed him. "Dumbledore died. Sirius. Remus and Tonks. Snape. Dobby. Hedwig." He swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat and continued in a more subdued tone: "My parents."
"None of which was your fault, Harry. You are not responsible for anything that happened," Hermione stressed.
"Aren't I?" He cocked a brow at her. "I'm the Boy-Who-Lived or the Man-Who-Lived… twice. I'm Dumbledore's heir, the Light's new leader." He shook his head and turned back to the pyre. "I'm either the Savior or the next Dark Lord, depending on which way the wind blows. But what doesn't change is that whatever happens is my responsibility."
"You're not anything you don't want to be!" Ginny's hand clenched around his knee, fingers digging in almost painfully at the self-loathing in his voice. She herself had once been guilty of seeing the Boy-Who-Lived instead of Harry Potter, wizard son of James and Lily, but it was the boy hiding in the shadows of unwanted fame had quickly captured her heart.
"I don't even know where to go from here," he admitted quietly. Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, was pushing for the entirety of the Golden Trio to return to school for an unprecedented Eighth Year. Backed by Hermione - who had hated interrupting her education - both witches hoped that their example would lead to most of their year-mates returning. The ones that were still alive, at least.
After that, it was assumed that he was going to be an Auror, continuing to fight the good fight against dark wizards. Harry was sure that he would quickly rise through the ranks, more because of his name than any actual hard work he put into the position. Not that he wanted to rest on his laurels, but he was well aware that he would unofficially become the face of the Ministry, perhaps even more so than the Minister. It would lead to his face and name continuously being plastered across the newspaper, something he had always hated.
Could he really look forward to a life full of nothing but public expectations and disappointments?
"Harry? What's going on in that head of yours?" Hermione ventured the question quietly, knowing that Harry was still a bit volatile after wearing a Horcrux for so long. To say nothing of being essentially abandoned by his closest friends, something she still regretted, before walking to what he thought would be his death.
"I'm thinking about Disney, actually," he answered under his breath. He was fairly sure that sitting at the graveside of a de facto family member and thinking about animated movies helped prove the insanity he was so often accused of.
"Disney?" The question was echoed by the red-haired siblings. Hermione had grown up in a Muggle household and was well aware of the corporate powerhouse that specialized in animation and theme parks. The Weasleys, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea what either of them was talking about.
Harry nodded absently, picking at a thread on his slacks. "Did you know they came out with a new movie a few years ago? Well, they came out with a few of them, but I'm thinking of The Lion King."
Ron frowned, working the unfamiliar words around his tongue.
"A movie is just a longer program that you can watch, similar to in a pensieve memory but made up instead of being a memory," Hermione explained to the clueless pair. Their Muggle Studies had been interrupted and, even if it hadn't been, the entire class was little more than a joke to anyone who lived among those without magic. "Disney is in the business of making movies similar to drawn comics for small children." She knew that comics were familiar to Ron through one of his dorm-mates, a die-hard fan of both DC and Marvel who had brought the books to Hogwarts.
"And they made one with… lions?"
"We'll find a way to watch it later," Hermione promised with a nonchalant wave. "I'm surprised the Dursleys let you watch it," she said to Harry. It was as close as they ever got to mentioning just how awful the Dursleys were to the young wizard that had been left in their care.
"I didn't. I listened to it as Aunt Petunia and Dudley watched it. He kept saying he was too old for it," Harry lifted a shoulder slightly, "but Aunt Petunia couldn't get enough of any Disney movie and it wasn't 'normal' for a grown woman to watch them without a child present."
"What's it about?" Ron questioned.
"A young prince's father is murdered and then banished until he comes of age. He comes back and defeats his uncle in a fight and saves the land."
Ginny blinked at the succinct response from Hermione. "It… doesn't sound like a children's movie."
"There's singing," Harry assured her with a chuckle. It was the first sign of anything positive that he had shown in days and his friends took it for the win it was. "One of Aunt Petunia's favourite songs was Hakuna Matata. It means 'no worries'," he finished, almost sing-song. Only Hermione knew that it was an actual line to the song.
"This is a strange place for no worries." Ron considered the burning pyre, adding another branch with a flick of his wand.
"I just-" Harry broke off abruptly, taking a deep breath. This was something he had never truly voiced before and he wasn't sure how his friends would take it. They were the core of his support but each had shown that they could take their part in that structure away at a moment's notice if he ever did something they disapproved of. It was nothing he blamed them for, but he was still keenly aware of the fact.
"I don't know if I want to be an Auror," he finally blurted out. He closed his eyes against possible censure, hearing the affronted squawk coming from Ron. The redhead had decided long ago that he was going to follow Harry into the Academy where they could train and be partners, watching each other's backs in adulthood as they had in childhood.
"What do you want to be instead?" The question came from Ginny. She had been set on becoming a professional Quidditch player since the first time she had been on a broom, long before her protective parents gave her permission.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I just know that I'm just so… tired. I'm tired of being depended on. I'm tired of being in the newspaper. I'm tired of researching and fighting and going to trials in front of the Wizengamot." He licked his lips and glanced towards his friends. "I'm just tired of worrying. I want to just… sing and dance with a warthog and meerkat," he finished with a shake of his head.
He decided to refrain from mentioning that he wasn't sure if he wanted to remain in the Wizarding World at all..
Hermione could almost kick herself as she noticed all of the tension in her friend's frame for the first time. Friends for years, the muggle-born witch had always prided herself on the ability to read the other members of the Golden Trio. She had no idea how she had missed something as major as Harry doubting his entire life until now.
"Well, the first step is going back to Hogwarts," she said decisively. At her boyfriend's groan, she smacked him on the arm again. "It's important, Ronald!"
Ginny laughed, shaking her head and leaning back on her hands. It was an argument that had been going on for weeks, ever since McGonagall and Hermione had first come up with the idea. Hermione was completely unwilling to accept that Ron absolutely did not want to go back to school for any reason. He was going to go and finish his education if his girlfriend had to force him to.
The very fact that Ron had fallen in love with a witch who could almost out-stubborn Molly was a source of never-ending amusement to the youngest Weasley.
"Look, Harry, I know you don't necessarily want to go back," Hermione glared at Ron, "but it's important. I know that you don't want to be the face of the war, nevermind the victory, but people look up to you. I'm not saying it's right. I'm not even saying that it's your responsibility. I'm just saying that it is what it is."
"So I can never escape it," was the resigned reply.
Hermione's heart clenched in her chest. She never wanted Harry to sound so sad. "I'm not saying that," she answered firmly. "I'm saying that you should finish your education so that you can make an informed decision."
Harry considered her stance before he sighed and stretched, wincing as his shoulders cracked. Looking up as Hermione stood, he accepted her hand and followed the slight tug, his legs unfolding from their pretzelled position in a stiff movement.
"We should go inside," she muttered, looking towards the tilting house held up by magic. "I'm sure people are wondering where we are."
Harry grimaced as he pulled Ginny up, and she tucked in close to his side for a brief supportive hug. He was not looking forward to going inside. While he wanted to mourn Fred and all of the others lost in the war, he didn't want to be a distraction to those who were mourning. The last thing he wanted was to detract from the whole reason they were present.
Biting his lip, Harry glanced at the burning pyre again, debating if he should just stay there.
"Oh, no you don't!" Ginny started forward, pulling him along forcibly until he fell into step beside her. "Mum's going spare trying to keep track of everyone," she explained. "You aren't getting out of this!" It was a surprisingly cheerful threat and Harry wondered just what he had gotten himself into when he had shared sweets with Ron on the train so long ago.
He was well aware that he had brought danger and death to their doorstep, but just maybe they could forgive him for that.
He had left the wizarding world with the death of one family.
Looking first towards the Burrow and then to the trio of teens around him, Harry decided that this time, death might just be worth staying for.
His life had never been problem-free in either world, as much as he wished otherwise. The only thing he could do for now, was move forward. Maybe his friends would be the key to discovering his true purpose in life, aside from being the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice.
With a small grin, Hermione began to hum under her breath as they strolled arm in arm to the open door that awaited them.
Hakuna Matata
What a wonderful phrase
Hakuna Matata
Ain't no passin' craze…
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I hope you liked it! Feedback is appreciated!