Disclaimer: How many times do I have to tell u?: I AM NOT JK Rowling. (Sorry to disappoint u. lolx)
Author's note: This is probably really cheesy, but I like it. Decayed to all the people in the world that were and are looked at as heroes. Just a little something about what's going on in Harry's head with Sirius's death/ceremony.
We had the service that was decayed to him about a week after Hogwarts was out for the summer term. I didn't even want to go, but it's the least I could do for Sirius, he died trying to save me. It was hell to be there. They were all in black because of that horrible muggle tradition. I felt out of place in the tight, rough black suit I had picked out. I couldn't picture Sirius, himself in a tie, much less a suit.
We had to keep the service secret as well. If the Death Eaters knew that we had risked having one, they would have been there. It was an easy way to kill a dozen people in the Order. All throughout the speeches on how he would be missed I half expected Sirius to come bursting there the doors and say "I was over at Grimmauld Place, and I saw there was an unexpected meeting here. What's up?" I was disappointed when he didn't.
The ceremony took place underneath Hogwarts, the one place that ever was a home to him, I had to beg Dumbledor before we could have it there. It would be the first place that Voldmart would look, but he gave in, probably because he felt pity on me. It was located in a small room in a pale blue color and smelt like shinny wood and jasmines. It was decorated with a, somehow, nice look of death flowers. I remember, clearly, this one bouquet was in a wreath shape, made of Gryffindor colored roses, with the exception of one black rose in the middle.
Although the ceremony Dumbledor was saying what a noble person he was, and rambling on and on about, what felt like nothing. Every now and then you would hear a sob (usually Hermione, or Mrs. Weasley), everyone had tears in their eyes. It was almost funny, how so swift and gracefully they would wipe away there tears with the hankies they brought with them. Why did they want to hide how they felt? I wish I could have been like them, and cry atleast. I couldn't even bring myself to do it. His death took all my emotion out of me.
What the Head Master was saying was only words, that continued and nothing more to me. Once he was done, he called for me, unexpectedly, to say a few words on behalf of my Godfather. Once I got up to the table that was placed in the front center of the room, all I said was, "He shouldn't have left us like that. He didn't deserve it."
I sat down after saying those two sentences. I don't think they needed me to say anymore. The once we said our 'good-byes' all of us went up to the Great hall to have some lunch. Everyone kept coming up to me and giving me hugs and telling me how sorry they were for my lose. I was dazed and kept forgetting why they were all coming up to me. I felt like I did something wrong.
The night after the funeral was the first time I had a nightmare about that day. It wasn't at all like the ones of Cedric and Voldmart's return, I hardly new Cedric. He meant anything to me, but one step closer to Voldmart's return to power. I knew Sirius, though. Maybe I didn't know when his birthday was, or his favorite color. I can't say that I knew his middle name, or even how he met my Dad, but for the two years that I had with him, I felt so safe, and even when the world was against me, he was there to help me face it.
Hermione and Ron took him as a father figure, to me. He was more like a brother then a father, the way he would get so rapped up in an adventure. Or how he would want me to take the risk and try to get into trouble. I laughed remembering that. It was like it was the first time I had ever laughed; it felt nice.
The summer has been fading, I'll have to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Right now I'm at the Borrow with the Weasley's and Hermione. Ron tries to talk to me, but I don't say anything worth hearing, only how I wish he could have died free. I have yet to cry over it.
I have to remind myself that in a way it's a good thing that he died. He had it a lot worse alive. He had to hide his face from the world, in his final mouths he couldn't even go out as the playful dog 'Snuffles'. To be trapped in the one place you hate with all your heart. And to be powerless to the world around you. I could only make sense that he would have- that he is- honored to have died a hero to me.
A/N: I can feel the love! The pain! Am I the only one feeling it?
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