Chapter Seven: Ashes to Ashes

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"Tonight," Arthur Weasley began, tears in his voice and in his eyes, "we are to bury the person who has a right to be called the greatest wizard of our time. We are to bury Albus Dumbledore."

The lawns of Hogwarts were filled with people like never before. Witches and wizards from all over Britain and even some foreign ones, had gathered on this one place, to pay their last respects to whom had indeed been the greatest wizard of their time- and perhaps even of all times. All were staring at one point.

There, in front of the crowds, a small, black lectern had been constructed, and Arthur, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, lead his first and most important funeral ever. But not at him did all witches and wizards gaze.

No.

Because only a few paces before him, clad in a long, black, velvety robe, stood the tall woman of whom the news she had been Dumbledore's wife had spread quicker than anyone had thought possible.

Minerva McGonagall had her hands neatly folded, her dark, wavy hair curling over her shoulders, down her back. It was her very own, personal goodbye to Albus, the hair.

"You have all my life insisted on me wearing it loose…" she bitterly and yet somehow tenderly thought.

"Now I am- can you see it?"

She hoped so. She could only say she did so hope so.

Minerva was very well aware of the fact that everybody was looking at her, with curiosity and pity, but she did not look up. She stood, not weakly, not hesitatingly and she didn't cry.

All tears had been spilt, and she knew she had to be strong now of all times. This was symbolic to her- a sign to the person she had dedicated her life to, wherever he was, a sign that she would be strong. That she would obey him, that she would lead Hogwarts, that she would bear the weight of it as he had always born her and as she had always born him.

Though Minerva McGonagall knew she'd never truly smile again, she did not cry.

Hermione Granger, to whose trembling arm she, despite herself, clung, did cry, though. Small, half-oppressed sobs escaped from her slightly parted lips, and Minerva, not really knowing what to do, found herself softly patting the other woman's back.

Strange, she pondered. She had been his wife and Hermione had been just a student, yet Hermione cried and she didn't. But that had always been one of Minerva's strange little traits, hadn't it? Whatever you do, a lady does not show her feelings.

She had read that line in one of Agatha Christie's books, she supposed, when she'd been fourteen- she'd been addicted to those novels, then… And she must have, somehow, remembered it, and, years later, she'd realized she'd practiced it all her life. She'd never cried in the public before, and she would certainly not start with it now. For Albus, who had always admired her because of it. For the crowd, who had already their own tears as a burden to carry.

Minerva McGonagall had never been a burden.

"And now…" Arthur Weasley's tear-stained speech had continued without her realizing it.

"Someone would want to say a few words."

Minerva nodded. That person was her. She, the wife, the widow, the one with probably the most pain of them all, and yet the one who had to be strong.

Arthur's look at her was an inquiring one- as if he asked "Are you alright?", as if he said "You don't have to, if you don't want to!".

The answer to the first unspoken question was "No." and the answer to the second was "I do have to.".

It was that simple.

And, before the eyes of so many grieving people, Minerva strode forwards and turned towards the crowd. She had not prepared anything. For the very first time in her life, Minerva McGonagall did something without preparations, without carefully written down instructions, without knowing what to say even. Perhaps there just was nothing to say.

Yet she did speak, and, as she opened her mouth, she knew Albus would guide her words.

"First…" Her voice was trembling, yet she gritted her teeth and went on.

"First I would like to thank you all. Your being here means a lot to me. I am glad- I am glad Albus after this war still had so many friends."

Don't cry. A lady doesn't cry. The widow- wife!- of Albus Dumbledore doesn't cry.

"The reason why I wanted to render this- call it a speech- is a simple one. I want to tell you all something you probably already know by now."

She slightly paused- allowed herself to examine the faces. Molly- Arthur… Ginny and Harry, sobbing, and Hermione, now clinging to Severus' arm. Poppy Pomfrey, Alastor Moody, his scarred skin now stained with tears. Fred and George Weasley, pale yet healthy again, way more serious that anyone had ever seen them. Rolanda Hooch, trembling, arm in a bandage…

It were all those faces which convinced Minerva. She had taken the right decision.

"That something is the mere fact that I loved, love Albus Dumbledore. I love him with a kind of love I hadn't even thought possible before I met him. I would have died for him."

The sincerity of her voice was unmistakable, and she went on.

"But fate has been cruel. I am still here and he, the man, the wizard, my love above everything is gone. Yet I will do what he wanted me to. Because, despite our losses, yesterday was a day of victory.

And don't cry over me, don't pity me, I beg you all.

I am but a dead woman walking. My happiness has faded forever and I will be mourning until the glorious day when I will rejoin my husband. But you all, who have futures, who have lives before you, must remember, for our youth, that goodness, despite everything, has prevailed.

You, we, must rebuild the wizarding world- we don't have the choice, this choice has been made for us. We must rebuild the world, and start with our children's home, with Hogwarts. I promise, here, now, that Hogwarts will again be the school it always has been, even without the greatest Headmaster it has ever known. And…"

Poppy Pomfrey's sudden, loud sobs interrupted her, and Minerva raised her head at the sky as the woman smothered her sobs in a handkerchief.

"Albus, I know you are there, I know you hear me. Close your eyes and sleep your well-deserved sleep of eternal peace, my love, because trust me: Hogwarts will know its magnificence of the past again. It will. It will. And I love you."

The last, three words had come out as barely more than a suppressed whisper, yet somehow, all had heard them and all cried, as if to replace the tears of the woman before them, the woman who couldn't cry though she wanted to.

Minerva closed her eyes, bowed her head and moved back towards her former place, still feeling all eyes on her, but not noticing them. She was praying.

For the first time in what were more that fifty years, Minerva McGonagall prayed.

Through her prayers, she heard the rest of the ceremony, yet she only looked up in the end, as four men slowly, slowly lowered the coffin of her love into his grave.

"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Albus Dumbledore and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen."

Arthur Weasley slowly closed the prayer book, and Minerva's eyes- all eyes- saw the Headmaster's body be entrusted to their last and final resting place. The welcoming arms of Mother Earth.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust indeed, and it were those words, those typical, humble Albus-words, that were carved into the grey gravestone that would mark this spot, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as a sanctuary of goodness forever.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust"

Very simple, very beautiful, very Albus.

It was a large tombstone, and somehow, Minerva had the comforting, almost welcoming feeling it would once form her last blanket as well. It was on that moment, exactly then, that Minerva made her sacred vow to her beloved.

"Albus, I will come to you. Wait for me, and when the time is right, then…"

Minerva's very first tears formed in her eyes, and yet, she did not feel bad.

"Then open your arms and catch me as you've always caught me…"