The tall boy knelt at the gravestone, tears falling silently from his eyes. He reached up to his face, pulling the glasses away from his emerald green eyes. He could remember almost anyone he'd ever met who remembered his parents commenting on them.
"You have your mother's eyes," they'd say. "Other than that, you're the spitting image of your father."
Almost subconsciously, he ran a trembling hand through his unruly black hair. A small pattering noise startled him from his reverie, and he realized that the dusky light he usually enjoyed at this time of day had faded, giving way to a light rain. Cool droplets fell steadily onto his head.
He stood, looking up at the gray, clouded sky. He knew he'd been here far too long already, but his crusade against the Dark Lord could wait. There was one more thing he needed to do. As he drew the potion he'd need, he realized that someone had planted a flower here. Funny, he hadn't seen that kind of lily before.
The tall boy smiled, reaching down to stroke the petals. He knew who had thought to bring the beautiful flower to the grave of both his parents, and so he gave another smile, in memory of his godfather. It had taken him ages to find the tomb; they weren't buried in the small cemetery near Godric's Hollow, as he had supposed, but in a cemetery hidden by a grove of evergreen trees, especially designed for the Order.
He stepped back, looking around at the rest of the expansive plot. These remains lay as of yet untouched, but everyone knew that if the enemies of their side discovered them, that would quickly change. This was the job he had taken on, for now. The bodies of his parents – the bodies of them all – deserved to be laid to rest in peace.
Striding over to one of the largest of the needled trees, he pulled an armful of smaller branches, setting them all down in the circle of runes, in the center of the clearing. With a quick, silent wave, he set them all afire, and then sat down to watch the blaze carefully, vanishing the smoke and sparks whenever either was visible, and ensuring that the rain didn't put the fire out.
After two long hours, there were no embers left on the ground, only a pile of white ashes. He left them there, once he had carefully shielded them from the rain, and went off to each of the graves, marking the ground above the memorials with the strongest runes he knew. It had taken weeks of careful practice to get these symbols right, and in the end, it was only with his best friends' help that he had mastered them.
Continuing the spell, he walked to the outskirts of the clearing and dug forty-nine small holes, each around four inches in diameter, and two feet deep. He poured a kind of cement into these, made with bowtruckle sap, and powdered dragon scales. This took days to dry, but was harder than diamond when it was done, looked like plain rock, and strengthened charms incredibly.
Once he finished preparing for the spell, he returned to the circle in the middle of the clearing. He spoke a foreign word, and waved his wand in circles above the charred stone, pulling the ashes into the air. Carefully reaching onto the ground beside him with his left hand, he lifted a crystalline beaker, filled halfway with a thin fluid the color of light amber, and set it down on the stone where the ashes had been.
He directed the stream of ashes cautiously into the mouth of the beaker. As the charred, gray powder dissolved into the liquid, it began to bubble. As soon as it turned dark red, he stopped pouring the stuff in and it vanished. Taking a deep breath – this was the most complicated piece – the young wizard walked to the outskirts of the cemetery, closing his eyes before continuing.
He reached into his pocket and took out a small, shiny black stone, and measured one bead of the potion onto it. After a moment, the liquid spread to cover the surface of the stone, and he let it fall from his hands before it could touch them. As the rock fell through the air, its shiny coat sank in, penetrating every atom of the bezoar. It sank directly into the hole he had dug for it, sticking fast in the cement. He poured the dirt back in, sealing the hole with an elaborate spell, as tightly as he could. After repeating the process forty-nine times, he had finally finished.
It would probably be a good idea to test it, but there would be no way to tell unless someone with an evil intent touched it, and apparently, there weren't any of those around. He'd have to make sure it was unplottable when he got back. After all, all of the Order, save Albus Dumbledore, was buried here. And one more thing…
"Harry?"
He whirled, drawing his wand. "Oh, it's you, Remus." He paused before asking the man a quick question. "What color was Tonks' hair the night she made her first pot roast?
The other man laughed, remembering the exploding meat. "It was maroon. Yes, it's me, Harry. I thought you might like to come around for a spot of tea. It's nearly midnight, mate."
"It is? I hadn't noticed." He looked around. Sure enough, the sky had long since been blackened by the approaching nightfall. "I've finished, though, Remus."
"You have? That's good news, Harry, good news indeed." The tall man smiled down at his younger companion as they apparated out of the graveyard.
"What spell did you use, by the way?" he wondered, as they sat down to a pot of tea in the cozy little cottage.
"Now, Remus," Harry grinned, "You know I can't tell you that."
"Of course, mate, of course. Only checking." He smiled at his friend, and poured them each a steaming cup. "Harry – did you like it?"
"Did I like what?"
"Did you like the verse? The one on their graves, I mean. Sirius and I thought it out, just hours before he was arrested. It seemed like the perfect way to say it, but you should be the one to judge that."
"It was. It most certainly was, Remus." He took a sip.
The fire glowed a moment, and then, with a small pop, Tonks stepped out of it, giving Remus a kiss and a smile.
She grinned at their younger guest. "Hello there, Harry! How'd you like to drop by the Weasleys' after dinner? I promised Molly that Remus and I would, but you're welcome to come as well. I know Ginny will be glad to see you."
He smiled. "Ron and Hermione, too?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah, they're taking a few days rest, as well." She smiled.
"Better and better! Sure I'll come, Tonks. It'll be my pleasure."
Fin