A/N-:
The death of one Albus Precivial Wulfric Brian Dumbledore saddened me, to a high extent. I figured I'd write a fanfic about Harry paying his respects after the battle with Voldemort is finally over.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
His Respects
It was magnificent.
No—those words alone are words of fools whom attempt to describe it. Those who understand, who see and who comprehend that one line is not enough to explain what greatness lay before them, they are wise and will not try to find words to say at all.
So he did not bother.
For the greatness of the white tomb did not come from its design, or anything of the sort. Oh no, it came from the lingering emotions that lay with it. The sadness, the power, the greatness, the remorse, and above all, the comfort that lay deep within.
He did not come bearing any flowers, or wreaths. He did not come bearing any present of the sort, for now present could ever repay the great man that now lay to rest for all of the deeds he had done. No present could ever repay him for all he gave…
"Good afternoon, Professor…"
His voice trailed off, tears stinging at his eyes. Here he sat, eighteen years old, whole, intact, yet not emotionally so. The loss of his parents, his Godfather, and the loss of the greatest man he had ever known had hurt him. Hurt him deeply…
Yet every time he neared the grave, he thought not of what faults he had, or how the death of Dumbledore had been his doing. All he ever thought about was what HAD been, and about the happy memories that he cherished so deeply.
Yet somehow, that seemed to make the pain worse.
Running his fingers over the cool stone, he felt as if every single bit of him would melt away into the marble, letting his life slowly but surely slip away bit by bit into the hands of the fate that lay awaiting him.
The designs gently rubbing against his fingers, etched into the slab, never to move. For as all human lives must one day fade away, unable to escape their destinies, the stone would one day erode into nothingness.
It was inevitable.
Yet for a wizard as great as Dumbledore to simply die— that seemed to make him want to forget all laws of reality altogether.
Dumbledore…
It lingered.
A voice, a crooning whisper of what remained of days long past, it always remained… Harry had heard it, heard it ever since the final battle with Voldemort. Words that had no fixed language, voices that had no fixed volumes, everything in an endless array of chaos and distortion to the point where it could make one go insane.
Sometimes it was so soft one could mistake it for the gentle rush of wind, and others, loud enough to almost hear, almost make sense of, yet not close enough.
It was maddening.
"I'm sorry."
The words left his mouth before he knew what he was saying. They seemed to linger in the air, mixing with the whispers, becoming one with them.
He let the tears fall, hot and stinging his cheeks, yet he dared not brush them away.
"I'm so sorry…"
The voices stopped, and now, the silence remained. There was no rustle of wind, no oncoming slapping of waves from the lake, nothing.
And then he heard it. The only three words he could make out from the voice, for the very first time.
Thank you, Harry…
And for the first time at Dumbledore's grave, he smiled.
And so you stand; a memory
All that's left of yesterday...
END
That really is quite mindless and pointless, but I wrote it for the sheer enjoyment of it. R&R, or don't, your choice.
-Chibi Amo