Harry didn't want to walk through the doors. If he walked through then it would be real. He was still almost hoping this was one long nightmare.
Sirius placed his hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright, Harry."
The man looked like someone else entirely, with mousy brown hair, green eyes and a square jaw. He had a flask of Polyjuice potion in his new black robes.
Harry was sure he himself looked like a wreck. He hadn't cared to look. It wasn't like it mattered, he was showered and wearing good clothes, that was good enough.
He did wish that he could come and live with Sirius, but Dumbledore had explained the protection spells active at Number 4 Privit Drive quite thoroughly. At least he didn't have to suffer the Dursleys company too long this year.
He pushed through the doors, Sirius right by his side. He'd been in contact with him every day since the school term had ended. He hated the coddling, but he also wasn't sure what he'd do without him.
Hermione was already here, along with her parents. She was wearing a black dress that came to just above her knees, and her hair was looking less bushy than usual. Everyone would be wearing black today.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, spotting him and rushing over, "Goodness, did you even try to fix your hair?" He swatted her hands away as she tried to tame the untameable.
"Don't worry about it, Hermione."
"Are we late?" Sirius asked her, nodding politely to her parents who were still standing at the wall, chatting amiably to an odd looking man with long blond hair.
"No, the service starts in about ten minutes. I think you're the last ones to arrive, though."
Harry nodded absently, looking around the room. It was a small gathering, about twenty-five people. He spotted a few members of the Order, some students from the DA, and several students he vaguely recognised as fourth year Gryffindors.
He saw the Weasleys all grouped together at the front of the room, their missing member as obvious to him as a missing thumb.
At the very front was a large wooden casket, delicate engravings carved along the edge, and several oversized bouquets placed on top. The casket was closed. There was no body. The Veil didn't even left them with that much.
It had been 27 days since he'd gotten Ginny killed. He'd been counting them.
It was hard to believe that he'd saved her life once. Now everyone just died around him, first Cedric and now Ginny. How many more would he get killed?
"Hello," said a soft, ethereal voice. Harry whirled, startled.
Luna Lovegood had walked up next to him. Her layered, frilly dress was bright pink, with silver feathered cuffs around the sleeves and waist, and she wore a long twine necklace threaded with baubles.
"Hi, Luna," he said, trying to get his heart rate under control and putting his wand back in his pocket. He was too jumpy.
Sirius nodded at her, "Hello. Nice outfit."
"Hello, Luna," said Hermione, eyeing her dress but saying nothing.
"You should be careful, this sort of gathering attracts the Glumbilps."
Hermione visibly bit her tongue. Harry knew he shouldn't ask. He did anyway, "What's a Glumblip?"
"Its a small gnome-like creature that's drawn to sadness and drinks the blood from your ankles."
That didn't sound too weird, although Harry had a hard time imagining that people wouldn't take precautions against such a creature at funerals.
"That doesn't sound like a real thing, Luna," Hermione said.
Luna shrugged, "We should find our seats now. I think Ron is looking for you, Harry."
Ron. Although they had been talking by mail, he still felt nervous at the thought of speaking to his best friend in person.
He felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder again. "No one blames you, Harry. Least of all the Weasleys," Sirius said. He'd been saying that constantly. Harry was sick of hearing it.
He turned back to Luna, "Luna, I'm sorry. Ginny was your friend and-"
"Harry," Luna interrupted, "You didn't kill her. She died fighting for a good cause. Don't ruin her sacrifice by making this about you." With that she turned and walked off.
"Close your mouth, Harry," Hermione said after a minute, like she hadn't also just stood there gobsmacked.
Sirius just shook his head, "Alright kids, time to find our seats. Hermione, are you sitting with your parents?"
Hermione bit her lip, looking at Harry worriedly. "No, I'll sit with you and Ron."
Harry frowned. "Ron will probably-"
"There you are, mate," Ron's voice interrupted. He saw the tall redhead hurrying towards them, "I've been looking for you."
He seemed subdued.
"Hey, Ron."
"Hi, Ron," Hermione said.
"It's gonna start any minute, come on you lot."
He turned and headed towards the rows of chairs, Harry, Hermione, and Sirius trailing behind him.
After the last person had sat down, the chatter of the room faded.
Harry was waiting for whoever was going to stand and give the eulogy when the casket burst into flames, a huge bonfire rising almost to the ceiling. Harry jumped, eyes wide. Beside him, Hermione had done the same and was clutching her chair.
Harry looked around, none of the wizards seemed fazed. He guessed that that was supposed to happen.
Ginny's face appeared in the flames, smiling, laughing, and watching over them all, her red hair almost seeming like part of the fire itself.
In front of the bonfire, a scene appeared. It was a large bright field, grass and flowers waving in the breeze, and Ginny in the middle, younger than he'd ever seen her, sunny and giggling as she ran around chasing insects.
As she ran past the edge of the fire she disappeared, and the image shifted to grey stone, another Ginny coming into view from the other side.
Here she looked as she did when Harry first met her, about ten, shy and smiling. She looked nervous and eager in equal measure. The Hogwarts Express shifted into view, and Ginny boarded, pausing to grin and wave one more time. The train took her with it out of view.
The images continued, flowing one into the other, Ginny playing gobstones with her friends, practising Quidditch, playing pranks with her brothers. She moved and talked, laughed and danced and played. She grew up before their eyes, stubborn and fierce, joyful and beautiful.
Her voice echoed out from her face in the fire, the only sound aside from the crackle of flames, "I'd do it all again, you know. Nothing would stop me. Not the whole world."
And then the world was plunged into silence and darkness. Everything was still, the fire and flames banished.
Harry stared, his heart aching. A realisation hit him, something he knew but hadn't really known, couldn't have known without the girl's full life marching in front of his eyes; Ginny would always have marched along side him all the way to her death, willingly, and there was nothing he could ever do to stop it. You couldn't control Fiendfyre, not really.
Knowing that, feeling it within his bones, his guilt gave way to grief like a tidal wave.
After several long moments, fairy lights flickered back into being, lighting up the room once more.
Looking around slowly, he saw that almost everyone was crying. Hermione's eyes were swimming, Luna had silent wet tracks down her cheeks, Mrs Weasley was sobbing openly into a handkerchief, held by her equally distraught husband, even Ron's eyes were red-rimmed and watery, as were every one of his brothers'.
Harry almost felt bad that he himself wasn't crying, but his pain was just as real all the same.
The casket was still there on the podium without even a scorch mark, even the flowers untouched, but now the whole thing was glowing brightly, almost blindingly.
"It will stay as bright as our grief is fresh," Hermione said, quietly and sadly. Perhaps she was eager to explain something, if only to be back on solid footing, "The casket will fade away as we process her passing. The family takes the casket home, usually outside in a place of honour, and when it has faded completely they put up a gravestone."
"We'll put it in the garden, just in front of the field," Ron said, his voice low and cracking, "She always loved to play Quidditch out there."
Harry put his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Ron…" said Hermione, gently.
"My sister's gone," Ron said, looking down at his feet, tears running down his face as his voice broke "I don't know what to do."
Hermione stood up and walked over to Ron's seat, knelt down in front of him and pulled his head onto her shoulder, weaving her arms around him and rubbing his back.
"I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Ron," she said.
Harry felt awkward, he had no idea what to do but needed to be here, needed to comfort his friend. He followed his gut, leaning right onto both of his friends to hold them both, his arms reaching around both of them.
People around them were beginning to stand up and walk around, forming groups and talking amongst themselves, all low and sad.
Everyone talked and wept, and talked more. Like if they could extol Ginny's life enough then she would come back.
But she wouldn't, she never would. All they could do was miss her terribly, and hold the good memories close to their hearts, so she could live on in them.
They sat there, a huddled pile amongst the crowds, and just held on.
Harry was staying at the Weasley's for the rest of the summer.
Sirius, no longer in Polyjuice, had dropped him off at the Burrow with a promise to visit often and write even more often. Hermione was staying too, as was, for some reason, Fleur Delacore.
He had half expected it to be awkward here, but it wasn't really. The air was always sombre, and Mrs Weasley broke down crying a lot. But life went on as normal. Mr Weasley still tinkered in his shed, the Twins still pranked the staircase, Percy still poured over his textbooks on the dining table. Mrs Weasley still made too much food. It was comforting and very strange at the same time. Surely something should be different? A piece was missing.
He found himself in front of Ginny's casket a lot. He talked to her, like she was really there, like she could hear him. The others did it too.
He found himself wishing that he'd been a better friend. Her starstruck crush on him had put him off from the start, and to be honest there were times that he had avoided her. But this year had been different, she'd started being, well, normal towards him, and she was really cool. Then everything with the DA happened, and then this. And there was no getting the time back, no way to apologise, or move forward.
The casket glowed brightly, bright enough that at night one would have to shield their eyes.
Harry didn't see how it would ever fade away. Her family would never stop missing her. But, maybe one day the pain would stop being so constant. For all of them.
