Chapter twenty four
Funeral day
/
Unfortunately, what Dumbledore had predicted became true. Harry found that out as soon as he came to breakfast quite late in the morning. Many inquisitive and sympathetic gazes turned to him, and excited whispers echoed throughout the Great Hall.
He did not move an inch and he calmly sat down across from Ron and Hermione, who was clutching the Daily Prophet in her hands.
"Harry… We're so sorry," Hermione said very quietly, after at least most of the curious eyes had turned away from them.
Harry just nodded and remained silent.
"Why didn't you tell us last night?" asked Ron and Hermione stomped on his foot angrily under the table making him squeal in surprise.
Harry looked at him: "I didn't really feel like talking about it."
"Sorry," Ron hummed guiltily.
"It's all right," Harry said, looking around the Gryffindor table. "Isn't Daria here?"
Hermione answered him: "No. Ginny carried her breakfast to the bedroom."
Harry looked down at his plate but didn't feel like eating anything. He could still feel someone's eyes on him and knew that he was once again the subject of many conversations.
"What exactly does it say?" he asked unexpectedly.
Hermione flinched in surprise.
"Well, nothing too precise… Just that the Death Eaters attacked the Dursleys for sure because they're…" Hermione trailed off and bit her lip.
"My relatives," Harry whispered instead of her. "How else," he added darkly.
"And you don't know who exactly it was?" wondered Ron. "You've talked with Dumbledore, and he might know, even if it's not written in the news, right?"
Harry raised his head and glared at the Slytherin prince's back. "And that's lucky for some," he gritted between his teeth.
Hermione followed the direction of his gaze and understood.
"Nobody behaves very nicely to him already, and if it was known that it was mainly due to his damn Daddy..." Harry purposely didn't say the rest.
/
Reading an article in the Prophet, Draco sensed someone's hateful look and turned around. Emerald and Storm gaze clashed. It only took a moment, but Draco realized that if Potter could, he would end up pushing up daises. He put two and two together and realized that their famous boy probably knew something he did not – something about that attack on his uncle and cousin. It wasn't hard to realize why he was looking at him with such hatred.
He preferred to turn around again. There was an unpleasant tingle in his back for a moment, but then Potter finally turned his attention to something else.
Angela sat tiredly on the chair across from Draco. The previous evening, she sat with Daria in the Room of Requirement late into the night, but at least she was much calmer now. She decided to go with her to the funeral and requested the permission from Dumbledore. He had no objections.
She was just a little worried about the fact that Harry wasn't talking to her at all. He didn't even try to make another appointment with her.
Draco cleared his throat and Angela looked at him.
"How's Prescott?" he muttered questioningly, almost as if forcing himself to ask.
Angela stared at him for a moment with a strange look.
"Not particularly well. She lost both parents yesterday," she replied coldly.
"I was just asking," grumbled Draco. He felt the look in his back again and thought of something.
"Weren't you with Daria by any chance when… Well, when she found out?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, I was," Angela replied curtly.
"Hmm, and you didn't find out who was responsible?"
"Death Eaters," she continued to pretend she didn't understand where he was going with those questions. "You can read it in the Prophet."
"But there are no names," Draco narrowed his gaze.
"Do you really want to know?"
He just kept looking at her. Angela leaned toward him, as close as possible so that no one else could hear them.
"Daria didn't listen much, but I was quite interested, so I asked Dumbledore about it. According to the testimony of two Muggles, whose memories were of course already altered, the Ministry obtained a description of only one of them. It is said that Daria's mother tore off his mask in an attempt to defend her husband. Unfortunately, it seems that it was your father. And he probably led them all."
Draco paled.
"How can they be sure about it?" he asked in a firm voice, but his hands were shaking under the table.
"I assume Aurors know how to do some proper interrogation at least," Angela replied coldly, pulling away from him and getting back to breakfast.
Draco unconsciously clenched his nails into his palms and stared intently at the table. He was as white as a wall. Angela watched him by the corner of her eye. She did not think this news would hit the untouchable prince of Slytherin that much.
"Why are you so taken aback?" she asked caustically.
Draco looked at her with pain and rage in his eyes and Angela realized she overdid it. The smirk disappeared from her face right away.
"Sorry," she muttered apologetically. "Seriously. I just... I knew them, I liked them, and it's hard for me to deal with it. I… I know it's not your fault."
Draco did not respond to that. He got up and slowly left. He knew that none of this was his fault as well, but he was also aware that what his father had done cast a bad light on him as well.
I´m just lucky they didn't publish it, he thought glumly. Otherwise they would probably stone me to death here.
/
Saturday morning was freezing. Small snowflakes fell from the sky and silently landed on the wreaths placed on two white coffins. Mr Prescott was a wizard, but he wished to be buried with his wife, in a Muggle graveyard. Not far from the mourners stood a single watchful Auror, whom luckily no one noticed.
Daria was shaking with her head down between her grandparents, while Angela stood behind them. Aside from Daria's mother's parents, there were plenty of other relatives and a few wizards and witches from Mr Prescott's side, who were definitely feeling a bit uneasy.
The priest recited his litanies, which did not mean anything to Angela, and then individual relatives approached the coffins and placed flowers on them in farewell. Daria went first and placed a white rose tied with a black ribbon on top of both.
When Angela turned away from the caskets, she saw Daria standing in shock away from all the people around. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her grandfather was supporting his wife, so Angela walked up to her and hugged her tight, hoping it could give her at least a bit of comfort.
There was not much more she could do for her…
/
The wake was held in the house in London outskirts that belonged to Daria's grandparents. The one in the Little Whinging was now empty, but according to the last will of her parents, it belonged to Daria. The shaken up girl could not stand the constant expressions of sympathy, broke down and fled upstairs. When Angela wanted to follow her, but Daria's grandmother stopped her.
"I think it would be better if we left her alone for a while," she said quietly.
Angela nodded. She looked at the clock. It was half past eleven. She knew from Dumbledore that the second funeral started at eleven.
"Please, Mrs Merrill, I need to go somewhere now. They won't come for us from school until the evening. If Daria happens to ask for me, tell her I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?'
"Sure, you can count on it, dear," Daria's grandmother told her gently. "And take care of yourself. It's sliding everywhere now."
"Of course, do not worry."
"And, Angela?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for coming. Serena liked you. And your aunt as well."
She nodded: "That was a matter of course, Mrs Merrill. Bye for now."
Angela quickly walked out of the house, away from the flood of black suits and dresses. Pulling her coat tighter around her body, she carefully made her way down the smooth sidewalk toward the park.
It was quiet and nobody was there. Looking around cautiously, Angela stepped off the sidewalk and went behind a clump of thick bushes. She checked her surroundings once more, turned quickly and disappeared with a loud snap.
/
Angela entered the second cemetery that day with snow crunching under her feet. It was quite vast, so she was relieved to see a sparse group of black-clad figures nearby. She also noticed that there were perhaps a dozen or so Aurors watching them at a respectful distance, and her jaws clenched.
She suspected that Harry would have a large entourage. Nevertheless, she headed toward the place where the funeral ceremony was taking place determined.
Her heart sank when she saw a figure with wild black hair standing alone near the coffins. Everyone stood as far away from him as possible. As if he had the plague.
She was only a few meters away from Harry standing with his back to her when a strong hand grabbed her arm.
Grumpily, she looked up into the face of the quizzically frowning Auror and pulled out a silver Hogwarts school badge from her pocket, which although it had not been issued to students for a long time, Dumbledore thought it might come in handy. Angela did not expect she would have to use it so soon.
The wizard´s hand went to the hidden wand, but when Angela quickly opened her palm and he saw the badge, he relaxed and nodded.
She hid the badge back and quietly walked up to Harry. He hadn't noticed her at all yet, staring blankly at the two sturdy oak coffins. However, a rather plump lady with a black veil supporting a sobbing thin woman saw her and watched her in disbelief. Angela ignored her and gently touched Harry's free hanging, icy hand.
Harry looked at her in surprise. There was pain and guilt in his eyes.
What are you doing here? he asked her in his mind.
I am with you.
He didn't ask any more questions and gratefully clasped her hand in his. He didn't expect it at all, and he didn't understand how came Angela could be there, but he was glad.
At least someone came to cheer me up, he thought dejectedly.
Together they looked at the coffins in front of them. Realizing that the chubby woman was still watching her, Angela glared at her. She immediately averted her eyes. Harry noticed Angela's look.
The robust lady is Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon's sister. She hates me from the bottom of her heart, he informed her. And she supports Aunt Petunia... My mother's sister...
Angela clung closer to him.
Have you talked yet?
Harry didn't answer for a moment.
No. I doubt it's worth it.
But you should at least try.
I know…
Then it was Harry's turn to say goodbye and pour some dirt on the coffins that were already lying in the deep holes. Angela let go of him and stepped back a little. She looked searchingly at the black haired woman that Harry identified as his aunt.
She was pale, clutching a white handkerchief in her hand and staring in disbelief at the place where her husband and son lay hidden. Seeing her like this, Angela once again fully realized the pain that the Dark Lord and his followers caused anywhere they went. It was a damn big reason for her to realize that she had made the right decision...
Angela perked up as Harry approached the tall woman despite the other woman staring at him. He was saying something but Angela couldn't hear him. Then he extended his hand to his aunt to express his condolences. However, it was left hanging alone in the air. Aunt Petunia didn't even seem to see him. Angela's throat tightened when she saw Harry's pained expression. He withdrew his hand and walked away dejectedly.
Angela grabbed his arm when she noticed he was heading for the exit of the cemetery.
Your aunt needs you, Harry, even if it doesn't seem like it.
He just shook his head unhappily.
At least you have to go to the wake. It is certainly expected from you.
Harry nodded after a moment and took Angela's hand again.
/
"How did you even get here?" Harry finally asked when they were alone in his room. There was a sad and stuffy atmosphere in the hall and living room below them, so he took her up for a moment. Angela originally didn't want to go to the number four at Private Drive, after all she had nothing to do there, but when she saw the look on Harry's face, she agreed to stay for a while.
"Daria's parents had a funeral this morning," Angela explained. "And luckily, they don't trail me like they watch over you," she added, looking out the window, through which the Aurors could be seen stomping on the street.
"Yeah," Harry smirked. "My security almost outnumbers the funeral guests."
Angela sat down on the bed next to him.
"It must be very difficult for you. I cannot imagine it," she said quietly. "But you should go to see your aunt."
Harry was silent, lost in thought. Angela suddenly made up her mind. Maybe she shouldn't get involved, but if it helps to make Harry feel better...
"You know what? Come down in about ten minutes. I'll be in the kitchen with your aunt."
"What?" Harry almost freaked out. "What do you want to do? She won't talk to you and…"
"Leave it to me. Just come after ten minutes," Angela cut him off, got up and was gone.
Dumbfounded, Harry wondered what his girlfriend could be up to. Aunt Petunia would not talk to her anyway if Angela told her that she was from Hogwarts...
/
Ten minutes or so later, nervousness settling in his stomach, he came down the stairs. Most of the guests already left, and Aunt Marge was in the living room taking care of the rest for now. He could see the small part of the kitchen from the stairs, but only Angela in there, who was saying something with a serious expression.
Harry took a breath and walked in slowly. At that moment, his girl was already silent and just watched Aunt Petunia, who was sitting behind the table with her head down. Angela gave Harry a look he couldn't read, but motioned for him to sit with his aunt and quickly left the kitchen.
For a long time, there was a stifling silence in the sparkling clean kitchen. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He had to say something.
"Auntie… I'm really sorry," he began hoarsely. "I never wanted… Because of me…"
"No, Harry, don't apologize," his aunt cut him off in a low voice, and Harry fell silent in surprise. "You´re not supposed to be sorry for anything. You didn't do anything to them. Maybe they're dead now because of you and I'll be dealing with it for a long time, but…" Auntie finally looked at him. "I have got only you left now," she said with tears in her eyes.
Harry didn't know what to say to that. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and tried with all his might to hold them back.
Aunt Petunia suddenly hugged him across the table and burst into tears. Harry hugged her back after a moment of surprise.
"I'm sorry for how we all treated you," mumbled his aunt between sobs, pulling away from him. "You're not a bad boy, you're just... different."
Petunia started to wipe the tears from her eyes. Harry handed her his handkerchief.
"Thank you… That friend of yours, Angela, she is very nice," said his aunt unexpectedly.
"What did she actually tell you?" Harry asked.
To his surprise, Petunia smiled slightly: "That will remain just between the two of us. But I can tell you that thanks to her I finally understand you at least a little."
They stayed in the kitchen and talked until Marge came in, since Angela couldn't hold her back any longer. Harry rather quickly got up and left. He didn't want to get into an argument with her because her expression was predicting just that. Angela was waiting for him already dressed in the hall.
"So?" she asked curiously.
Harry looked at her appreciatively for a moment before kissing her softly and briefly.
"You´re my treasure. How did you do it? What did you say to my aunt?"
Angela smiled.
"It's none of your business," she replied teasingly, but immediately became a little sad. "I have to go. They are supposed to pick me up along with Daria."
"Is it far away? How did you even get here?" Harry scowled.
"By bus," Angela answered quickly.
"I'm surprised you're familiar with Muggle public transport," Harry wondered. "I can walk you to the bus stop..."
"No, rather not. Stay with your aunt while you can. You're going back to school today too, aren't you?"
"Yeah, they have a Portkey ready for me. Even allowed by the Ministry," Harry added kind of annoyed.
"So… Goodbye for now," Angela said and gave him a long kiss.
"Well, that's really disgusting!" said a nasty voice behind them.
Harry turned to face Aunt Marge with a scowl.
"Petunia! How can you allow them to dishonour my brother's house like this!"
Angela squeezed Harry's hand and it stopped him from blurting out something nasty.
"But Marge, don't overdo it," Petunia surprisingly stood up for them and approached closer. "So, not just friends, right?"
Angela blushed.
"Well, I have to go now," she stammered. "Goodbye," she said to the two women and Harry walked her to the door.
Neither of them saw the mysterious smile Petunia was giving them, while Marge was just frowning in shock. Angela gave Harry one more short kiss and quickly walked away into the late afternoon.
"Close the door!" Aunt Marge screamed and Harry rather quickly obeyed.
/
Angela slipped into the house and brushed the snow from her hair. It was slowly getting dark outside. She took off her coat and was about to head upstairs to Daria when she was stopped by an icy voice from the living room door.
"Where have you been?"
Angela froze.
What the hell is he doing here?
She slowly turned with an innocent expression to Snape who was staring at her quizzically.
"Good afternoon, Professor," Angela greeted loudly. "Aren't you here a little early?" she asked.
Snape came dangerously close to her. Behind him, she saw pale Daria sitting in a armchair.
"Probably only for you. I asked where you were?!"
"Outside," Angela replied.
Snape narrowed his eyes to narrow slits.
"How can you even afford to roam the streets of London without permission or supervision?" he hissed hatefully.
"I don't need any of that," Angela retorted, tightening the defences around her mind even more.
Snape's face remained outwardly cold, but behind that mask he was furious.
"Headmaster will definitely find out about this, and you´ll have detention until Christmas! Clear!?"
"Yes, sir," Angela replied coldly.
Severus had to supress the urge to growl at her. The insolence of this girl was already getting on his nerves. Before, there were never such problems with her. But ever since her aunt died and he started regularly seeing her with Malfoy, she'd started to behave in a way that really pissed him off.
/
A/N: Thank you to senso69 for comment under chapter 3. :-)
