They held the funeral that Friday. In an odd, shadowy echo of the previous summer's celebrations, everyone worked hard for the next two days to get everything prepared. Harry felt almost relieved to have a purpose, something useful to do, it helped distract him from the awfulness of the funeral itself. The devastating loss seemed to have rendered the Weasley family defeated and indecisive. All except Percy, in whom this situation had galvanised a state of manic activity. Perhaps because it was in his nature, or perhaps because he was trying to make up for his previous behaviour by working extra hard, he took up a role leading the planning of the funeral and coordinating all the tasks that needed to be done. The shadow of his former pompousness was somehow deflated, absent even. Harry heard him clattering around at night, preparing bedsheets, cleaning the fireplace, counting out cutlery, writing owls to order extra chairs and organise transport, and wondered if he slept at all.
He instructed Harry, Ron, and Hermione to clear out and de-gnome the garden, and Charlie to prepare meals for everyone while they worked. Ginny, Bill, and Fleur reinforced the protective enchantments around the house, organised the catering needed for the funeral, and sent notifications of the date to family and friends. Mrs Weasley, who also seemed to find a certain relief in the activity, prepared the kitchen and living room, decluttering, and scouring the oven. Mr Weasley, who had been granted leave from work, spent a lot of time alone in his garage. George mostly stayed confined to his room.
On Friday, Harry woke in the early hours of the morning, and with a horrible shock, saw the coffin in the garden through the window. Early morning sun was glinting off its shining surfaces, and fifty white chairs were laid out, facing it. Percy was down there, already in his dark robes, weaving in between the rows, counting chairs and muttering to himself. He looked exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes and his face was pale and thin.
Unable to go back to sleep, Harry rose and dressed softly, trying not to wake Ginny, and joined Percy down in the garden. He jumped when he turned and saw Harry standing there, but recovering himself, said "oh, hello Harry." It was the first time they had been alone together for a long time. Against his bidding, memories of their last exchanges flashed through his mind. In Harry's fifth year, Percy had assisted the Ministry in putting Harry on trial and, later on, when they discovered the DA, attempting to arrest Dumbledore.
Perhaps similar things were occurring to Percy, because he stopped what he was doing awkwardly and drew in a deep breath. "Harry I… the last time we… well I… I'm really sorry," he blustered. It was such surprise to see his normally carefully arranged face looking so crumpled and forlorn, that Harry immediately responded, "don't worry about it, honestly Percy." Looking relieved, Percy turned on his heel, and immediately resumed his formal manner, instructing Harry that if he wanted to help, he could put programmes on each of the chairs, oddly luminescent in the pale morning light. He indicated a pile of parchment stacked on a nearby table. He could have done it by magic, but instead he walked along the rows, carefully placing a copy on each chair. It felt awful to be so close to the coffin, which he knew contained Fred's body, but he forced himself to continue walking up and down the rows.
Mid-morning, guests started arriving. Even though he knew they had been notified, it was still a shock to see the Hogwarts teachers, led by Professor McGonagall wearing robes of midnight blue, making their way solemnly towards the house. They were followed closely by Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, and Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood. Not long after that, the rest of the old Gryffindor quidditch team arrived: Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Oliver Wood. Hagrid arrived soon after, with his large spotted red and white handkerchief in tow. It was the first time he'd seen any of them since the Battle. They greeted Harry, gave the Weasley family tight hugs or firm handshakes and whispered their condolences solemnly, taking their seats among the crowd.
Then more people arrived, Harry saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, acting minister for Magic, and several people he recognised as colleagues of Mr Weasley from the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. All of a sudden, people were pouring in. The entire DA had arrived, as well as all those who had fought in and survived the Battle of Hogwarts. Current and former Hogwarts students appeared, loyal customers of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and those who remembered Fred and George's dramatic escape from the clutches of Dolores Umbridge and the swamp that they had left behind.
The Weasleys stood in the garden in astonishment, staring at the people arriving, the overwhelming number of people who Fred touched during his prematurely shortened life. They hugged and patted George and the rest of the Weasleys, crowding into the area behind the chairs. Percy was frantically trying to clear more space and organise seats, but people obliged themselves by sitting or leaning on trees and tree stumps, sharing or giving up seats to newcomers, or transfiguring objects into makeshift stools. When everyone had settled, the Weasley family, and Fleur, Hermione, Harry, and Lee Jordan took their seats at the front. Bill stood beside the coffin and an expectant hush fell among the crowd.
"We asked you to come here today to celebrate the life of my brother Fred Weasley. Most of you know him as an entertainer, or" with a nod at the Hogwarts teachers, "a troublemaker." There were appreciative but tearful titters from the crowd. "He was also a hero, who died fighting for a better world. Today we say farewell, but not goodbye. We'll remember his laugh, his love, his bravery always."
Harry looked over at the Weasley family. He could see tears streaming down Hermione's cheeks, and Mrs Weasley had buried her face in a handkerchief. Percy looked exhausted, haggard, and George, who was sitting next to Lee Jordan, was staring at the ground in front of the coffin, looking lost. Each of the Weasleys stood at the front in turn, saying a few words, memories of Fred and George's mischief, drawing laughs and tears. Ginny surprised Harry (and by the looks of it, everyone else too) by singing a song. She had a light, clear voice, and the song was beautiful, sad, but hopeful. Even Mrs Weasley managed to steady her voice long enough read a short poem. Only George didn't speak.
The coffin was laid to rest a distance away from the house, in a patch of ground underneath a triad of silver birch trees, lit by dappled golden sunlight. When the earth covered the coffin completely, Bill and Charlie stepped forward to wave their wands in a series of delicate, intricate loops and twirls, and an enormous headstone began to materialise. It was a large shard of rock, taller than a person, with one flat face and two glittering roughly cut sides. Carved onto its surface were the words: "Here lies Fred Weasley. Beloved son, brother, friend, and twin. Marauder, mischief maker, entertainer, you will not be forgotten." The crowds stood there for a minute in silence, and only the rustle of the leaves in the wind could be heard.
When they returned to the house, the afternoon light on the house and the chairs outside was golden. Food and drinks were laid out on the table. For the first time, George stepped up to the front of the crowd and cleared his throat to speak. Judging by the surprised look on the faces of the Weasley family, this was unplanned. The dark hole where his ear used to be caught Harry's eye. Odd unsymmetrical shadows darkened his pale but determined face.
"Fred… Fred was my twin brother, my partner in business and crime, my best friend. Nothing I can say now will be able to describe how loved he was, or… or how much I'm going to miss him. Fred brought laughter and fun to wherever he was, and Merlin knows between us, we knew how to throw a great party." It was the most Harry had seen him say for what felt like years. Watery laughs and smiles emanated from the crowd. He broke off and looked down, taking a deep breath. "So, we wouldn't be doing him justice if we spent the day moping and being sad. I think we can all agree, that isn't what Fred would have done, and no less what he would have wanted us to do. Let's make today about laughter and silliness, appreciating the moments we had with him, sharing stories, and, most importantly, bringing Fred's spirit of mischief with us as we go on. Merlin knows, we're going to need it." The ghost of a smile passed his lips.
"Here, here!" came Hagrid's gruff voice suddenly, from close to Harry, making him jump. While everyone in the crowd raised their glasses in the setting sun, George bent down and pulled a box of Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs out from under a chair. With a spark emanating from the tip of his wand, he said, in a barely audible whisper, "'bye Fred. We're sending you off in style mate," and lit the fuse.