To Walk Through Fire
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the characters associated with him. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not making money off of this story. So please don't sue.
Warning: Just to let you all know that although this story is AU and is not going to follow along the storyline of Order of the Phoenix, it will contain small elements of the fifth book – such as certain relations, such as the one in the second part of this chapter.
Chapter XV: A Funeral
Hermione could not stop the tears from running down her cheeks. Nor did she care to stop them. Her best friend was dead. Gone. She would never see him again. There was neither logic nor information from any book that could help her in her sorrow. True she had thrown herself further into her books, but that was only to help her forget, to lose herself in a world of words and known fact. But at the moment not even her precious books could help her as she stood there staring at the cold headstone that seemed to mockingly declare her friend's death.
Thus felt like one horrible nightmare. But no, everything around her was too real. The sounds, the noises, the smells . . . The logical part of her knew that this was all true, right up to the terrifying moment when she discovered that her friend was sentenced to life in Azkaban. She had ruthlessly crushed the small hope that had crept into her; it would do nothing but bring her heartaches and pain. But she still wished with all her heart that this had not happened.
Gently she placed the rose she held on Harry's grave – how she hated thinking about it like that, it sounded so cold, empty, lifeless . . . She didn't know if Harry even liked flowers – probably not since he was a boy, not to mention the fact that he had to weed his aunt's garden, or so she had been told – but she knew that Harry would never refuse a gift sent to him with love. He had even accepted those horrendous socks from Dobby and worn them.
"I'm so sorry Hermione," a voice suddenly brought her out of her melancholy thoughts. She looked up at the intruder only to find Seamus Finnigan. "I know that you and Harry and Ron were close. I can't believe he's dead. You know it was just a few weeks ago that we were all laughing and talking and now he's gone. I can't believe it. It's like we are in a nightmare."
"Welcome to my nightmare," intoned Hermione softly. Seamus gave her an odd look, but she was saved from explaining her muggle reference when Lavender Brown joined them.
"Oh Hermione, it's awful!" She muttered through her tears. "It's just as Trelawney predicted. She's been predicting this every year since our third year. Oh poor Harry! I wish there was some way we could have stopped it."
Hermione grimaced at her year-mate's words. They sickened her. Trelawney had predicted Harry's death only because he was famous, because he was an easy target. Hermione knew with a scholarly certainty that Trelawney had not known of Harry's death. She wanted to yell and scream at Lavender about the phony divination professor and yet she didn't have the heart, nor the energy to tell the girl the truth about the Divination professor.
"And my uncle . . . " She broke out sobbing again. "He . . . he . . . he disappeared a week ago . . . during the raid on Azkaban." She began sobbing in earnest into her hands and ran off towards – or where Hermione assumed – Parvati Patil was.
"I . . . er . . .I don't think that she meant that about . . . well Trelawney and all. You know it isn't true." Seamus said trying to fill the chilly, empty air with words.
"I know." Hermione said, but she did not add anything else. She really did not feel like conversing with anyone. Seamus seemed to sense that and after making an excuse, headed off towards a sixth year Hufflepuff boy whom she had never met before.
Slowly she scanned the crowd of people who had gathered for Harry's funeral – those who had stayed after Fudge's blasphemous ceremony that she and all the Weasleys had suffered through – they all had left part of the way through, unable to stand it any longer. They had returned in time to see the coffin laid into the ground. Many people still remained, even several hours later – several of whom she had never seen before. She could see Molly Weasley with her husband and Ginny speaking to Professor McGonagall, none of whom were smiling. Professor Flitwick was in deep conversation with the squat Professor Sprout, who had tears in her eyes. She spotted Fred and George Weasley on the other side of the clearing, smiles long gone form their faces, speaking to an oddly dressed man with a feather hat. She was sure that despite the mournful ceremony that the twins were planning some mischief. Perhaps it was their way of dealing with the pain of losing a good friend. She really did not care what they did as long as it was not disrespectful to Harry. Nearby the twins, alone and apart from everyone was Ron, silent and withdrawn as he had been ever since they had spoken to Professor Dumbledore. Hermione knew that he wasn't alright, but with a woman's intuition she knew that he would become better in time. The three other Weasley children were dispersed in the crowd speaking to wizards whom she had never seen before.
Actually she knew less than half the people who had gathered for Harry. There was a white-haired witch with a kindly face who everyone seemed to pay reverence to. A man in ragged robes stood speaking to a tall dark man and a witch with black hair. She could see a lady, an older lady, whom everyone seemed to avoid, dressed in a simple, yet elegant silver robe. There was a brown-haired man whom she recognized as Cedric Diggory's father beside a light-haired woman who must have been Cedric's mother. Both looked sad, and confused, as if unsure whether they should mourn the boy who had survived when their own son hadn't survived, and he had been accused of their son's murder. And yet they had shown up for Harry's funeral. She had a feeling that it wasn't in mockery either, like several of the others who had come, namely Fudge and the Malfoy's.
Of the half she did know, most of them were from Hogwarts. Every single one of her professors, including, surprisingly enough, Snape had appeared – and he did not even look at the headstone in mockery. Professor Dumbledore was there of course, he had said something at the beginning of the ceremony, which for once, she had not listened to. She could see Neville standing stony faced bedside a harsh old woman – with a vulture on her hat – who could be none other than his grandmother. The Patil twins were speaking to Lavender Brown, who was still crying. Justin Finch-Fletchly was speaking to Hannah Abott. Even Cho Chang, whom Hermione had reason to believe, who had had a crush on Harry, had shown up and was silently sobbing into her friend's – a girl who Hermione had never met before – robes. All of Harry's roommates, except for the muggle-borns had shown up.
Hermione scanned the crowd gathered searching for a familiar black dog. He wouldn't' miss this, not his godson's funeral, even if he was caught by the Ministry . . . But she did not see him. There were no black grim-like dogs wandering through the sea of people. He should be here. How could he miss the best chance to say good-bye to his godson, even if it put him in danger?
No. She did not see him.
Unexplained anger rose up in her, rushing over her like a wave upon the rocks. How dare that man not show up for Harry's . . . funeral ceremony! How dare he leave his godson alone again! First the Dursley's and now this! That man had no right being Harry's godfather. He had abandoned Harry too many times! First there was Azkaban, where he abandoned poor Harry to the mercy of his relatives, who she knew were not good people, then he abandoned Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, and now he even abandoned his godson in death – and he never would be able to speak to Harry again. She doubted that he even cared. The man was egotistical – he cared only for himself. Perhaps she did not know him well, but from the stories she had heard about him, Sirius Black cared for nothing but himself.
Why did Harry never receive anything? He had terrible guardians, a terrible godfather – who did not even care enough to go to his funeral – and a physco-maniac man after him. And yet he was such a nice boy – he was always kind and generous – he always thought of everyone before himself – although he should have put more effort into his homework, he could be brilliant, in magic at least, after a little practice – alright, a lot of practice – Harry was able to produce a perfect summoning charm. Not to mention that he could produce a Patronus in their third year, something none had ever achieved thus far. So why did Harry have to . . .
No she couldn't finish that sentence. Part of her truly didn't believe that Harry would . . .leave them.
But why would Dumbledore lie to the world if it wasn't true? Or was Harry hiding from all of them? But why would he do that? Didn't he care for them?
She knew that it was improbably, if not impossible that it would even happen. It was a ridiculous hope that would bring nothing but pain and sorrow.
Suddenly she caught sight of her one time Defense professor. She didn't know why, but her feet took her towards the best Defense teacher that she had ever had and moreover Harry's friend. The professor's eyes widened slightly as she approached him.
"Hello Hermione," he said sounding extremely old and tired. He looked more haggard than ever. But despite that his eyes had . . . a twinkle in them, as if he was happy. But he couldn't be happy; she must just be imagining it.
"Hi professor," she said slowly unsure of exactly why she had wandered over.
"It's Remus, please Hermione, I no longer am your professor." He stated staring into the distance.
"Where's Snuffles?" She asked unable to stop herself . . . Perhaps Sirius was here and she just didn't see him.
"He's . . ." Lupin paused for a second as if he was at a loss for words. "He's doing something important that could not be left."
"But shouldn't he be here? He'll never be able to do anything for Harry again. He won't ever have another chance to be there for his godson!" Hermione realized that she was becoming hysterical, but she couldn't seem to stop herself, not even the logical part of her mind could prevail. When she looked at her ex-professor there was a strange look in his eyes that she was barely able to observe in the grip of her sorrow and pain.
"Don't you think that Harry would rather have his godfather miss his funeral and be safe, rather than be here and become a prisoner again?" He stated calmly as if he wasn't ashamed at all from his friend's actions.
"But he owes it to Harry!" Tears were now falling down her face. "Harry's gone and he's never coming back . . .Harry's dead." Unable to stop herself, Hermione collapsed on the ground and began sobbing in earnest. She felt Remus' arms move around her comfortingly. It really wasn't the fact that Sirius wasn't there that bothered her as much, it was the fact that Harry was dead, that he was never going to come back. She truly had not accept4ed the fact until she had seen his body placed into the ground.
She could not hear the words Prof – Remus was saying, but she knew that he was speaking to her and rubbing her back like her parents did when she was little. Harry never had any parents to do that for him . . .
She did not know how long she cried for. Hot tears kept falling down her cheeks and she was unable to stop them, unable to regain her composure.
It must have taken some time fro her to stop crying, for when she looked up the afternoon seemed to have worn away.
"Sorry Professor," she mumbled softly into her robes as she rubbed away the moisture on her cheeks. Hesitantly she looked up at the man and was almost shocked to see tears in his eyes. But she knew that he had loved Harry to, in his own way.
"It's OK Hermione, you've just lost a good friend," he said softly, "I know how it feels. And I never thought that I would live to see Harry, James' own son, buried. He was supposed to outlive me, and Sirius. He was supposed to live a long happy life . . ."
Hermione felt awful, not only had the man had to suffer through the loss of his best friend, and the betrayal of another, now he had to suffer through the loss of losing James' son, his best friend's only heir, as well. He had known an entire family that had been murdered by one power hungry, madman – powerful madman. And here she was sobbing in his arms for comfort, when someone should be comforting him. But perhaps that was why she had gone to Remus; she had known instinctively that he knew how to deal with the loss of a good friend.
"Prof – Remus," she began uncertainly. "Does the pain every go away?"
Remus looked at her sadly then turned towards the forest that guarded the sanctuary of the dead. "No, it never goes away. It does not fade either. Sometimes, even years later you feel the loss of them so sharply that you believe that you can no longer go on . . . Sometimes the pain becomes so unbearable that . . . No it never fades completely, you just learn to adjust, to live with it. Some men never adjust; I've seen a man drink himself to death when he lost his wife and child . . . But you'll survive, you will adjust, you are young, and you have friends and loved ones you can go to when you miss him. You still have your whole life in front of you Hermione don't waste it. Harry would have wanted you to move on. To be happy."
Remus turned back to watch the forest, as if it was the most intriguing thing in the world. Hermione looked at it but could see nothing interesting about it whatsoever. It was a normal forest and did not eve have the power and age that the Forbidden Forest had.
"How do you deal with it?" Hermione whispered, not wanting to bother the man, but needing to know how to live with the pain.
"Some people drink, others go about their everyday lives and force themselves to live, convincing themselves it would be what the deceased person would want . . . The best way is to mourn and then continue on each day and eventually you learn to smile and laugh again."
The sound of several footsteps alerted them to the fact that several people were headed their way. Both of them turned around to see who was intruding. Coming towards them was none other than a group of redheaded Weasleys and Hermione's parents.
"Hermione, dear, we are leaving now." Molly Weasley said as the group stopped before them. If it had not been such a solemn occasion, Hermione would have laughed at the fact that the whole Weasley clan – well the ones that stood in front of her – was decked out in Halloween colours, especially with their black clothes and red hair. "If you want to stay with us you are welcome to dear." The usually jovial woman stated looking painfully at Ron.
Hermione looked at her parents questioningly. She knew that they would be busy with work and would have little time for a grieving daughter, not to mention that every kid in her neighborhood was not on speaking terms with her. Whereas at the Weasleys she had the whole family, and she knew that Ron needed her support, just as she needed his. Her parents nodded slightly to inform her that any decision she made would be fine with them.
"I would like that if you don't mind Mrs. Weasley," she said politely. All her things were over at the Weasleys anyways, so it would be easy for her to go straight over to the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys.
"Not at all dear." Then Molly Weasley seemed to notice the brown-haired man behind Hermione. "Mr. Lupin," she exclaimed in surprise." When Remus did not immediately reply she added, "I'm Molly Weasley . . .perhaps you would remember – "
"Yes I remember you." Remus interrupted politely before she could continue on. "It's good to see you again, although I wish the circumstance could have been different." He put out his hand, which she shock gently.
"Yes . . .er . . .Perhaps you'll remember my husband, Arthur," she pointed to her husband, who nodded and shook his hand. "And these are our children . . ."
"Whom I have had a pleasure teaching at school." Remus smiled at the children, only Fred and George even attempted to smile back, Ron only looked blankly at him as if he was seeing straight through the werewolf.
"Yes, of course." Molly Weasley nodded. "Bill and Charlie, whom you probably haven't met yet are over there speaking to Professor McGonagall." She said, pointing to her two older children.
Hermione wondered how exactly Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley knew each other. Could they have possibly gone to school together? Mrs. Weasley was slightly older than Remus – or at least she believed so – so it was possible. Not that it mattered really.
" . . .Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione's parents," Mrs. Weasley was saying motioning her parents forwards. "This is Remus Lupin, he was on of your daughter's teachers for a year."
"Nice to meet you," Remus shook both her parent's hands, "You have a wonderful daughter."
"Thank you." Both her parents murmured.
"Would you like to come over for a cup of tea and some biscuits? You look as if you could use it." Mrs. Weasley asked politely. Hermione studied the woman carefully and realized that she really did want Remus Lupin to go to the Burrow with them. How had the two of them known each other?
"I would love to, however, I am sorry to say that I have prior engagements that need my immediate attention." Remus politely nodded at them. "I must be going."
"Oh well, then if you ever are nearby, come and visit, it would be a pleasure to talk." Mrs. Weasley began herding them towards the portkeys, which they would use to return to the Burrow.
"Mrs. Weasley," Remus called, halting them all in their tracks.
"Please call me Molly," Mrs. Weasley said kindly.
"Currently I am residing at Hogwarts, as I am doing some . . .errands for Albus. It would be a great honor if you and your husband could come over two days from now at 5 O'clock pm. Um . . .it's talk about the current . . .situation." Remus said softly looking around everywhere, as if trying to keep anyone else but them from hearing. Even as he finished speaking he looked directly at Molly Weasley and a strange look passed over his face.
Hermione wondered if it was a meeting about He Who Must Not Be Named. It probably was, and they were not invited. And she wondered what the strange look meant. Apparently Mrs. Weasley knew exactly what meant for she answered immediately.
"Yes I believe that we will." With that Molly Weasley quickly herded the group away from Remus and towards their destination.
***************
Bellatrix Lestrange watched as the no good friend of her traitorous cousin disappeared. The man hadn't seemed all that sad at the loss of one Harry James Potter. As a matter of fact she could almost swear that she saw him smirk as he stared at the coffin. That had been odd. She knew that he wasn't one of them, and he certainly was on Dumbledore's side – so why had he smiled? What was it that had made him smile? And why wasn't her no good cousin there to say farewell to his "beloved" godson. Her master had wanted her to keep an eye on Sirius – the son of her traitorous Aunt . . .Perhaps if she took that man, Remus as a prisoner her master would allow her to stay and watch him be tortured for the answers he was seeking. She wondered what he wanted to achieve by keeping an eye on Sirius Black – lying, cheating, useless – and his friend, but especially Sirius Black. He had said that he wanted to know about the men's relationship with Harry, or if they were kind to a boy about his age. He had never give a reason for it, she knew that her Master was desperate for answers, why else would he have sent her to Harry Potter's funeral.
She had seen how pompous Fudge was – the man was fallowing the path that the Dark Lord wanted him to take without even realizing it – pompous, arrogant fool, she wished he would suffer forever in the depths of the underworld, he had kept her imprisoned without any chance of bail. She would take revenge on him if it was the last thing she did.
There had been lost of children – one looked like that young couple that she and her husband had been imprisoned for torturing into insanity. And a group of redheads who had to be Weasleys and Malfoy – although he didn't see her or know about her assignment – he hadn't seemed that happy to be there. Neither had the pair of Aurors who stood on guard at the entrance – the fools didn't even realize that she – a Death Eater – had managed to enter into the cemetery.
As she saw the werewolf – pity the man wouldn't give into his nature more often, he would make such a good ally with his calm presence, and lack of desire for power, not to mention the bloodthirsty part of him – she perked up slightly in her hiding spot. She made a quick decision and followed the world using dark magic – a very simple spell – to track where he apparated to, although she already knew where he was going. She apparated right behind him.
The man turned around with lightening quick reflexes that one would not have expected from someone as haggard as he was, but she was ready for him.
"Stupefy," she hissed – her wand directed right at him before he even had a chance to react. His eyes widened in surprise before he collapsed onto the ground in a heap. She watched him coldly. The man lay at her feet as if dead. Her Master would be so pleased. Perhaps now her Master would allow her to torture some muggles.
***************
Bellatrix arrived in Azkaban in time to see her master smile gleefully at the progress that the awful woman was making with Fudge. Even before she had entered Azkaban she had hated the woman. Now she could hardly stand her. The woman had become so arrogant that she believed that she was the Dark Lord's favorite.
Bellatrix knew for a fact that it was certainly not true. She could see annoyance in the Dark Lord's red eyes when he was speaking to the woman and he punished her, often for no other reason than that she had said a wrong word, although he punished many others for the same insolence, he had rarely punished Bellatrix herself for it – perhaps it was because of her tolerance for pain, she never whimpered like all those other fools did, she only knelt on the floor in submission and accepted the pain, let it flow through her like adrenaline. Now he punished her even less than he usually did. The Dark Lord rarely called that woman to join them at meetings, although he would call everyone else – except for Severus Snape. She hoped that after this was all over the Dark Lord would remove that woman from existence. And leave Bellatrix to deal with Fudge – perhaps she might even leave something for her immature cousin to torment, even he deserved to torment Fudge.
She stood quietly at the back of the room, the Dark Lord knew that she was there, but that woman did not. She could wait; her prisoner was not going anywhere anytime soon. Not until the Dark Lord wanted to see him. It seemed to take forever before that awful woman was finally dismissed. That woman's report was too long, and extremely boring, she repeated the same things happily, over and over again. Did the woman have no common sense? Bellatrix fingered her wand; her madness was attempting to take over her mind. She refused to give into her desire, to kill that woman. The madness from Azkaban, although not prominent in her movement or speech, was sitting, waiting for her to make one mistake. She forced herself to think rationally, not follow her instincts. If that woman died by her hand then the Dark Lord would remove her from his presence . . .forever. And she did not think that she could stand that.
The woman walked so slowly out of the door that Bellatrix thought she would never leave. As soon as the woman exited through the door, Bellatrix was forced to calm herself quickly before the Dark Lord called upon her.
"Bellatrix . . .What have you come to tell me?" The Dark Lord hissed, Bellatrix began to move forward towards her master. When she was close enough to him, she bowed in respect.
"My Lord, I have – " Bellatrix was cut off when a short, stubby entered into the room, after banging into the door.
"My Lord!" He bowed to their master. Bellatrix was shocked that a creature such as Peter Pettigrew could remember to bow – the man could hardly walk without tripping on his own feet. She wondered what had caused the rat to be so excited as to be so animated in front of the Dark Lord.
Bellatrix remained kneeling where she was, watching Pettigrew carefully. Unless the Dark Lord dismissed her, he wanted her to be here. So what was it that Pettigrew – that traitorous rat, whom she would one day destroy – was going to report to the Dark Lord?
"What have you found?" The Dark Lord hissed, his voice dangerously soft.
"Harry Potter," Pettigrew began as he stood up – Bellatrix could almost see the man jump up and down in anticipation of his next words – stupid Gryffindor. "He's not . . . urgh . . .urk . . ." More guttural noises followed the first as Pettigrew seemed unable to speak. Perhaps the lying rat had finally lost all his nerve, and now was just a quivering lump of fat. Perhaps now he could be removed from her presence – she could not stand him!
"Spit it out Wormtail, I do not have time for your games." The Dark Lord hissed dangerously, Bellatrix smiled gleefully, daring to hope that the Dark Lord would finally remove the traitor.
"He . . .he's dead." Pettigrew gasped out. "Black did not seem to upset at his death." He muttered lamely. "Neither did the werewolf. Th – . . .ag." He opened his mouth but no more words came out.
Bellatrix was certain that the Dark Lord would let them play with the traitor. Once a traitor, always a traitor. Pettigrew would betray them one day. Just as Lucius Malfoy would, and all those others who betrayed Lord Voldemort to save themselves.
"That is all you have to tell me Pettigrew! After days near that fool and Black?!" The would-be Lord of All hissed slowly, emotionlessly. Deadly.
"Y . . .Ye . . .Yes M-m-master." Pettigrew stuttered his head bowed in defeat. Before Pettigrew had lowered his head, Bellatrix could have sworn that she had seen both complete and utter despair and ultimate confusion swirling in his eyes. Not that it mattered really, but it was interesting nonetheless. What on earth could be confusing the traitor? He should have known that the Dark Lord would punish him for this. How could he not have known?
She watched gleefully as the traitor was punished, her madness attempting to break free of her tight control. He screamed – unhampered by dignity, for he had none – as if the world was ending. Even after the curse was ended the cowardly Gryffindor remained cowering and whimpering on the floor.
"Get up," the Dark Lord demanded harshly, coldly eyeing the figure huddled on the floor. "Go tell Lucius that he must begin." Both Bellatrix and Wormtail looked at the Dark Lord curiously. What was it that Lucius was to begin?
Bellatrix watched emotionlessly as the traitor crawled off the floor, and bowed himself out of the room.
As soon as the door closed the Dark Lord's full attention was turned on her. Bellatrix bowed her head down and rose when he motioned her to.
"My faithful servant, what have you brought me today? Good news . . ." It was not a question, but a threat, and she knew that if she did not have good news that she would be in a worse position than even Wormtail was in.
"Yes my Lord. I have brought something even better than good news. I have brought that git's own best friend, the werewolf, Remus Lupin . . ."
***************
End Chapter Fifteen
A/N: I am soooo very sorry for not having updated in such a long time. I have just entered my final year of high school and I have too many things to do including looking for scholarships, finding a university to go to (any suggestions) and studying for the SATs (does anyone have any hints on writing those). I will continue to write when I can though. I'm sorry that Harry did not make an appearance in this chapter, but it didn't fit in very well. He will appear soon.
Would anyone like to beta this story for me? I would be ever so grateful to anyone who would – and who was willing to help with some ideas in the story. If you are interested could you please e-mail me, or put it in a review. Thank you.
Thank you so much to all those who reviewed, your reviews were encouraging and gratefully appreciated. Thank you.