Chapter Four

Harry's Funeral

Harry slammed the large book he and Ron had been reading at the empty Hogwart's library in his frustration.

"Harry, I was reading that!" Ron complained.

"It's no use. We'll never find anything to get me back. I think we've already found what we need to know and there's nothing we can do."

"Oh what do a few books know?"

"Ron, we've been through every book on life, death, the soul, killing curses and the human body in this library, even in the restricted section. Everything says the same thing."

"On what in particular?"

Harry reached for one of the books on general reference of deadly spells and began to read:

"Any living being hit with the Avada Kedavra curse dies because the spell causes all organs to stop functioning immediately. A dead organ can not be revived at all and there is no way to return them to life. And here," he reached out for another book. "Upon death, the soul directly ejects from the body and there is no known way of returning it. The souls may choose to walk as phantoms of their former selves, more commonly known as ghosts. But as ghosts have reported, most souls choose to take another path that is to what can only be known as the afterlife. No further information on this state is known as no soul has been known to return from the afterlife." Harry pushed the book away.

"There, it's the same thing over and over again on every book. We can't resurrect me."

They had been stealing out of the house and flooing into Hogwarts for the past five days whenever Molly left for St. Mungo's. The Weasley home, fortunately, was among the few places connected to the exclusive Hogwarts floo network since the start of the war, so it was easy enough to come and go to Hogwarts without anyone else's knowledge. In addition, Madam Pince was still among the injured at the hospital so it gave them the opportunity to explore the library's restricted section. It had been quite a task at first as alarms had initially triggered when they tried to enter the restricted section. But eventually, they managed to get around the security with a few well-placed silencing charms on each book they took off the shelf. They didn't, however, find anything significant.

With just two hours before Harry's funeral, Ron was practically panicking. In truth, Harry had already given up hope in ever getting back to his own body much earlier. He was dead and there was no way of going back. He had learned that long ago when Sirius had been murdered. He didn't really mind going on to the next step, whatever that was, in the afterlife. Since the end of his fifth year he had contemplated the possibility of dying and he wasn't afraid. But it was the thought of the pain he would cause Ron if he let his hopes down that kept him from telling him to let go. But now it was pointless to go on. There was no more time left.

Ron buried his face in his hands and cursed.

"Look, Ron. It's okay. If it's not meant to be, we'll just have to let it go. Come on, let's go home, your mother will be back soon to pick us up and we need to be there."

Harry stood up and Ron let him walk them out of the library into the nearest fireplace. He grabbed some floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece and stepped into the fireplace. He was about to shout, "the Burrow," when Ron beat him to it by saying something different.

"St. Mungo's!"

"Ron, what the—" But they were already caught up in the whirlwind through the vast network of fireplaces. They crashed on the floor and Ron got up before Harry was even reoriented to his surroundings. The fireplace was at the end of an empty hall and Ron quickly ran and turned a corner leading them to the familiar lobby of the hospital. He passed it quickly and came to a flight of stairs, but this time instead of going up, Ron ran down the other way, leading to the basement which Harry had never seen before.

"Ron, where are we going?"

"Stopping you from being burned."

Ron rushed on and they came to a large door of what was apparently a large room. A pair of orderlies was just coming out, levitating a rather large box. There was something imprinted on the box and when Harry looked closely he saw his own name.

"Ron, you can't mean—"

"Stop!" Ron yelled to the orderlies. "You can't take him yet!"

The wizards were startled at his outburst and almost dropped Harry's body. "What are you doing here?" the younger looking one asked. "Are you a patient? You must be lost."

Ron ignored him and continued. "Look, I know this sounds weird, but you can't bring him to the funeral—"

The wizards looked at him and comprehension dawned on their faces as they noticed the scar on Ron's face.

"You're Ronald Weasley, aren't you? The boy who survived You-Know-Who," the older man said. He was a big burly man who looked rough and unshaven with his dirty blond beard, but he gave Ron a sad yet kind smile that reminded Harry of Hagrid. He looked at the box with Harry's body and back at him. "I'm so sorry, lad. It must be awful to lose a friend."

"Listen. I know his funeral is in a little more than an hour from now. But I have to ask you not to bring him there."

The older wizard continued to give Ron a look of pity. He gave Ron a comforting hand on the shoulder. "I know this is a bit hard for you, but there's nothing left to it. We have our orders to bring him to Hogwarts now. Now be a good lad and go up those stairs. I'm sure your mate Harry, wherever he is, wouldn't want you to be bothering about his body. Now go on up, lad." They continued to levitate Harry's body down the corridor to the end of the hall where a rather large fireplace had been waiting to floo his entire casket to Hogwarts.

Harry could feel Ron's desperation but Harry was unable to stop Ron from taking his wand out and releasing the levitation spell on his body. It fell to the floor and Ron rushed to it.

"You don't understand," Ron gasped. "Harry's alive! You can't take him!"

The older wizard's expression changed to alarm and he shot sparks from his wand that disappeared up the flight of stairs. In seconds, several wizards appeared.

"We have a situation here with Mr. Weasley," the older man explained to the new arrivals. "Kindly see to him."

"Mr. Weasley," a female healer said sweetly. Too sweetly. It reminded Harry of Dolores Umbridge. "Let's go for a walk shall we? I think your father and brother may be upstairs and I'm sure they'll be glad to see you."

"I'm not leaving here without Harry's body!" Ron made a move to come closer to the box.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Weasley," the healer said. Harry caught her eye signaling to the other orderlies. He grabbed his own wand and placed a protection spell just as they started firing restraining hexes.

"Accio Harry's Body!" Ron shouted. The box shot forward just as Ron bolted up the stairs, the box following closely behind them.

"Ron, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Getting your body back, Harry!"

"Are you insane? You can't just steal my body!"

"Well I can't let you be burned. They're not going to listen to us, so I'm keeping it safe until they have the sense to understand."

"How in the world are you going to do that? We can't get past the healers once we get to the lobby."

True to Harry's words four or five St. Mungo's employees were standing at the ready in the lobby when they reached the ground floor. Apparently the orderlies at the basement had already informed them. Instinct made Harry cast a protection charm. The second round of restraining hexes bounced safely off of them while Ron continued levitating Harry's casket.

"He could perform two spells at the same time?" Harry heard astonished murmurs from the healers around them. They were surrounded now, but most of them looked slightly afraid of Ron that none of them even thought of casting a spell. Harry released the protection charm.

"Mr. Weasley, please let go," the same female healer said.

"Ron, just do what she says," Harry said.

"No, Harry!"

"Mr. Weasley, please..."

"Ron, we can't do this. It's crazy. The healers will think you're mad and we'd both end up with Lockhart."

"Ron! What are you doing here?" Molly had just come down the stairs with Mad-Eye Moody.

"Mum, we have to delay Harry's funeral! He's still here! He's inside me! You have to—"

"Stupefy!"

Harry was startled with the number of spells that hit them at once from different directions. He didn't even have time to react. He saw a split second of flashing lights from the spells before they both blacked out.

Harry found himself lying in Ron's bedroom at the Burrow, feeling extremely sore and tired. He heard Ron curse in his head.

"Damn healers!"

Harry had to agree. Those hexes were a pain. He tried to get up, but Ron's knees gave way and they fell back to bed.

"They probably gave us something, a relaxing potion of some sort," Harry said. He looked at his watch. It read quarter past eight in the evening.

"We have to get to Hogwarts, Harry!" Ron jumped. He stood up, a little wobbly at first, but then managed to get out of bed. He frantically searched for their wands. They were placed on his desk next to a note from Molly telling Ron to rest up.

Ron pointed his wand at them.

"What are you doing?"

"Apparating to Hogwarts."

"We can't apparate to Hogwarts, we'll get splinched. Didn't you ever listen to Hermione?"

"Damn!" Ron apparated them downstairs to the fireplace and grabbed the flowerpot with the Floo Powder.

They landed ungracefully again at one of the stone fireplaces in Hogwarts near the courtyard. It took them several minutes to get reoriented. It was exhausting what with the potion in Ron's system. But they had little time to think. They moved as quickly as they could outside to the lake. But even before they could approach the edge of the lake where a large crowd had gathered, they could see the flames over the water.

"NO!" Ron screamed and made a move to run to the lake, but Harry stopped him.

"It's over, Ron. There's nothing we can do."

Ron sank to the ground. "I'm not giving up, Harry. We'll find a way to get you back somehow, even without your body."

Hermione watched the funeral pyre over the Hogwarts' lake and her vision blurred with tears. It was painful to think that one of her best friends was under that flaming inferno, his body consumed with flames, never to be seen again.

Earlier, she had a sad reunion with some of the Weasleys. They had lost another son and their grief was as deep as hers. Ron wasn't there. Molly told her Ron had barged in at St. Mungo's a while ago, demanding to stay Harry's funeral. No doubt, he was going mad with grief, just like when she woke up next to him and he was speaking nonsense. He was still unconscious at home after being subjected to a calming potion. Molly didn't think it wise to bring Ron to Harry's funeral. "I don't think he could handle it yet," Molly had explained.

Hermione, however, thought how unfair that was for Ron. 'He and I were Harry's best mates, why shouldn't he be here with her to properly say goodbye to Harry?'

'Are you feeling this way because you really feel for Ron or are you just looking for someone to comfort you?' a nagging voice was saying at the back of her mind and Hermione admitted it was also part of the reason. She hadn't had a chance to escape home again after she had gone to the Burrow that night. Her parents had engaged her in a lot of activities of late to help her get over the grief but it hadn't helped much. It only annoyed her and she ended up rowing with her parents.

Her parents had only let her go out tonight to honor Harry after much pleading. She expected Ron to be here and was sorely disappointed when he wasn't.

She was so caught up in her tears and her frustrations that she didn't notice Ron walk calmly toward his family. He had been standing a few feet away from her for several minutes before she realized he was even there.

When she did notice, he was not looking at her but was absorbed on the flames in front of him. She wondered what he was thinking. Was his heart breaking like hers? She wanted to go to him. Surely they could comfort each other. But she stopped herself. There at the corners of his mouth she saw what was unmistakably a small smile. A smile? How could he smile at a time like this? And he looked... amused.

Harry stared at the flames as they danced in the wind. It was a bit unnerving watching your own funeral rites. But he was more concerned with Ron's spirits.

"Cheer up. We couldn't do anything about it anyway. Besides, you know they can only keep my body fresh for a few days with a spell. They can't hold it like that forever, I'd rot. If we'd gotten it out, where would we store it? I highly doubt your mum would appreciate a smelly corpse at the Burrow. Besides, if we did manage to return me, I'd probably be half-eaten by maggots. Could you just imagine what I'd look like? I'll be a living nightmare."

Harry felt Ron suppress a laugh and it felt good.

"Harry, your funeral is not a good time to make jokes." Ron admonished, but he still couldn't hide the fact that he was feeling more cheerful.

Harry was encouraged by this opening and decided to keep it up. He was tired of grieving and it was a relief to just to be a bit positive for once.

"It's my funeral, Ron. You can make jokes at your own funeral and I'll laugh with you then."

"Oh, sod off." Harry laughed inwardly and Ron couldn't help but be infected. However, Harry tried to help his best friend keep from bursting out. It would not look good for Ron to be seen laughing at his funeral.

When they had calmed down a bit, Ron turned serious. "I should be asking you how you are, mate. You're the one that died."

"I'm okay. It's not so bad. Kind of funny actually, that I get to see my own funeral. Not everyday a bloke gets that chance."

"Well, you'll get to hear later what people will say about you. I've always wondered how it would be when I die, what would people say about me. You're lucky."

"Ugh! I hate eulogies. I always think they gloss it over. Everybody's a saint when they die."

"Hey, I have to give you one later."

"And what would you say about me?"

"I don't know. It's a little hard to give you a parting speech when you're in my head. I don't have one prepared. Hey! Here's an idea. Why don't you give your own eulogy?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, that way you won't have to gloss yourself over. Give everyone the real you."

"Very funny, Ron."

The flames slowly died down and the sobs were growing softer. Everyone turned their attention to Dumbledore as he came up at front and began his speech. It was touching really, Harry had to admit. He talked about Harry's strength of character and how he grew up to be a mature young man who accepted his destiny. One by one the other guests came up and said their own speeches and little anecdotes about him. Harry felt his heart constrict. He never really realized how it would feel to know that others were mourning over him. It pained him to know that he was the cause of so much sadness. He appreciated his friends and was comforted to know that they meant something to him. When Hermione finally came up and said how much she loved him, he felt tears on his cheeks. He went to her and caught her in a hug when she was done.

"I love you, too and I never left," he whispered into her ear before Ron could stop him.

Hermione stared at him with confusion in her eyes, but he was led away so Ron could give him a speech.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"What do I say?"

"Whatever you think." Harry was a bit relieved from the distraction. But he was still a bit shaken up. Whatever Ron could make up was fine, but he wished it would be something merrier. He couldn't stand it if he had to make a speech about his death that could make others cry even more.

"I can't. You're not really dead."

"Well, come up with something. It doesn't matter. Just don't patronize me."

"Um... Harry's my best mate and I'll never find anyone like him."

"You're doing okay."

"Shut up will you, I'm trying to give you a speech here!"

"I was with him the night of the battle he defeated Voldemort."

There were gasps from the crowd but Ron ignored them. "I wondered how he had done it. He told me—"

"I can't tell you, I'm dead, remember."

"I mean, I knew...I knew he defeated Voldemort because he had one thing that Voldemort didn't have. It was love. Voldemort tried to kill me that night. Harry got in the way and he got the full blast of it. But that same magic destroyed Voldemort. He could never survive against a bond so strong."

Ron paused and Harry watched all his friends sob even harder. This wasn't going well at all. His heart went out to all of them who were grieving over him and he longed to comfort them somehow. He had an idea.

"Ron, let me..."

"Be my guest, Harry. I reckon they're all broken up."

"I know all of you are saddened by me—over Harry. But I'm sure that wherever he is, he's heard all that you've said and he wants to thank you for all the love and support you have given him. You gave him the most wonderful life he could ever wish for and he is forever grateful."

He stepped away and felt a flood of tears engulf him. Who would have thought that he would cry at his own eulogy?

"Alright there, Harry?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm glad I have you here. At least there's one person not grieving for me. I'm glad it's you."

He let himself be engulfed by embraces from his family and friends. He hugged Hermione the longest and spent the rest of the night comforting everyone else.