Chapter Three: A Funeral To Remember

12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London

August 4th, 1997

The white light vanished out of existence, and once again the Golden Trio flailed around for a moment – before reality reasserted itself, and the memories of what they had just seen and heard via the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities took hold in their minds.

"No. No..." Ron choked, looking like he was about to throw up. Harry wouldn't have blamed him if he did – he felt like he was about to vomit himself – but then Ron stumbled backwards, muttering, "I-I-I got Ginny killed –"

"NO! Ron, don't think that!" Hermione managed to catch the ginger in her grasp, and forced him to look into her eyes. "Your sister isn't dead! Do you hear me? Everything we saw and heard just now, it never happened!"

"You don't understand," Ron said thickly, still looking as if he was about to be violently ill. "It could have happened, sodding hell – it almost did..."

"What?" Harry demanded, feeling confused.

"I remember," Ron shook his head, obviously trying to clear that horrible nightmare out of his thoughts. "That bit where everything changed – when I charged Lockhart, and slammed him into the wall? I remember thinking of doing that, I was going to do it – but then I froze. I couldn't move, I was so ashamed of myself but still – I couldn't. All these years, I've often wondered what might have happened if I hadn't been such a coward at that moment, but now that I know –"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you listen to me!" Hermione shouted, grabbing Ron's head and forcing him to look at her. "You are not a coward! Do you understand me? You're not! Would a coward have ever chosen to come with me and Harry on the Horcrux hunt? Would a coward have gone to the Ministry along with the rest of us, in order to rescue Sirius? Would a coward have stood in front of Harry on a broken leg, saying that anyone who wanted to kill his best friend would have to kill him first? Would a coward have followed Harry into the Forbidden Forest and faced his worst nightmare, in the form of those acromantulas? So stop accusing yourself of cowardice, Ron, because I won't stand for it! You hear me? I won't!"

{ Bloody hell, } Harry thought to himself in amazement, after listening to Hermione's speech. { I reckon Ron was right all along, Hermione's brilliant and scary! And it's true enough, my best mate really did do all those things, he... }

At that moment, Harry became aware that his two friends were standing very close together, that Hermione still held Ron's head in her hands and that their lips were almost touching. So he couldn't help asking himself, { Are those two finally going to snog each other now? }

"Oh, go ahead and just ignore me, all of you," Mirror Draco spoke up, instantly ruining the mood as Ron and Hermione broke apart and glared at the image of their nemesis within the magical mirror. "Not like I'm going to be sick at the sight of all this, am I? And I should have known you wouldn't want to ask questions about what happened, after all that..."

"What did happen? We all heard your voice again at the end, saying that Sirius broke out of Azkaban earlier than he otherwise would have... so, yeah, what happened next?" Harry wanted to know, suddenly feeling excited.

"What can I say, Pot-head? Black finally got off his arse and came for you, sure. But given what had happened to you, up until that point? Before he showed up, you'd decided to either curl up into a ball and wish the world would go away, or else become a bit more pro-active in terms of ensuring the safety of the people you cared about," Mirror Draco smirked. "Not saying there weren't other possibilities, like you killing your Aunt Marge with that accidental magic instead of just blowing her up like a balloon – but those would be the two main ones, yeah. Making her go pop! would have been cool, though!"

"Which means what?" Ron spoke up, now looking to be a little more in control of himself, emotionally speaking.

"You tell me, Weasel. What do you reckon would have happened during your O.W.L.s year, if the Pink Toad had decided to make Scarhead's life utterly miserable that way? One possibility is that Umbridge would have ended up raped to death by those centaurs, after the Pot-head lured her out into the Forbidden Forest," Mirror Draco smirked. "Or, if your best mate had simply retreated inside his head and ended up in the Janus Thickey Ward alongside Fatbottom's parents, Moldy-shorts would have chosen some other way – some other witch or wizard – to come back to life. Like I said – possibilities are endless, aren't they?"

"You're actually enjoying this, aren't you? You get some sort of sick pleasure trying to torment us this way! What on earth was Ron's great-grandfather thinking when he created you? I don't understand how –" Hermione started to rant furiously.

"You watch your mouth talking about my creator, you little cow," Mirror Draco interrupted furiously, his eyes narrowed and sparkling with hatred. "I won't stand for –"

"You ever call Hermione that again, even just once more – and I'll personally smash you into little pieces," Ron interrupted with a vicious growl, looking enraged by the slur against his friend. "I may not be able to order you to stop it with the insults, but I can make you pay for them! Understand?"

"Yeah, Weasel, I hear you," Mirror Draco replied sulkily.

"So, what else?" Hermione frowned. "I mean, what would have happened to me after Ron and Ginny died? Their deaths wouldn't have interfered with the Mandrake Draught being prepared to wake me up, or so I'd assume..."

"There are a few possibilities where it would have interfered, actually, but in the main you're right – and after being de-petrified and discovering how those two had been killed, in most possibilities, you confess everything to your parents after the end of the school year. Hugo and Jean Granger learn one of their daughter's few friends has been murdered, and then you get yanked out of that castle quicker than you can say, 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'! And what happens when the muggleborn purge begins, a few years later? Nothing good for you..."

"Supercali – what? Is that even a word?" Ron asked in confusion, looking around at Harry and Hermione.

"A muggle one, yeah. Don't worry about it for now, Ron," Harry shook his head, glad to see that his friend seemed to have mostly recovered from his earlier shock, after witnessing his and Ginny's deaths. "Anyway, I reckon I've heard enough; we've wasted too much time on this blasted mirror as it is –"

"No, I want to know more," Hermione interrupted firmly, sending him a scolding look. "I want to learn how this thing works! I mean, despite the personality defects –"

"Hello, Pot? This is Kettle. You're black," Mirror Draco interrupted snidely.

Hermione ignored that completely. "As I was saying, technically, this mirror is a magical miracle! And let's face it, Harry – what else do we have to do right now, while we're waiting for Kreacher to arrive with Mundungus Fletcher, and hopefully Slytherin's locket as well? Before Remus showed up, Ron was driving me batty with his Deluminator, even though I was just re-reading all the books Sirius had in the Black library..."

"Is that all I am to you lot, then? A way to simply pass the time? Something for your personal entertainment?" Mirror Draco sneered at the Golden Trio. "And you can forget about trying to learn any of my secrets, princess – Master Frugoldus built me with so many safeguards, you don't stand a chance of doing that!"

"So what do we do with you, then?" Ron asked, shaking his head. "Get you to show us a world where we get a happy ending, or something?"

"Oh! You mean the very remote possibility where all of the Death Eaters, along with their entire families, died painfully but quickly, when Dumbledore performed a ritual in the Wizengamot to prove that they really were remorseful for all their actions – but he then sneezed at the wrong moment, and accidentally opened up a portal to Hell, which engulfed the entire chamber?" Mirror Draco asked sneeringly.

The trio just stared at the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities in shocked silence.

"No, I guess not," Mirror Draco said musingly. "Well, then, maybe... oh, yes, I know just the thing!"

"Now, hold on a moment, what exactly are you-?" Harry started to say worriedly.

But it was too late – the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities had already started emitting that blinding white light, and the next moment, the three magical teenagers saw and heard –


Hospital wing, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

November 6th, 1993

Harry was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him during the Quidditch match today... about the screaming female voice he'd heard, thanks to their influence. But then he looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him anxiously – so much so, that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?" he asked, suddenly recalling his prized broomstick.

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other. "Er," they both said in unison.

"What?" said Harry, looking from one to the other.

"Well... when you fell off, your broom got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.

"And?" Harry demanded.

"And it hit – it hit – oh, Harry – it hit the Whomping Willow," she said unhappily.

Harry's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds. "And?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"And – well, you remember what the Whomping Willow's like, mate," Ron said uncomfortably, referring to that unforgettable event during the previous year, when he and Harry had crashed his father's flying car into the tree in question. "It – it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought the remains back just before you came around," Hermione finished up in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped roughly a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed – the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

"Oh no," Harry whispered, feeling like he'd just lost one of his best friends. "No, no, it can't be..."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione tried to be comforting, even though that was a hopeless endeavor. "It's just – smashed beyond repair, you know, there's nothing anyone can do..."

"So, that's it? I just get another broom from McGonagall, forget this ever happened?" Harry demanded, an angry tone creeping into his voice.

"No, 'course not!" Ron said hastily. Then he said musingly, "Huh. No reason we can't give your Nimbus 2000 a proper send-off, is there?"

"What do you mean?" Harry and Hermione asked together.

"Yeah, that'll work!" Ron said enthusiastically, caught up in his own thoughts for a moment. "Don't worry, mate, I'll make all the arrangements! We'll give your broomstick a decent funeral, I promise you, or my name's not Ron Weasley!" With that, the ginger turned around and rushed out of the room.

{ A funeral for my Nimbus 2000? } Harry thought vaguely to himself, as he noticed Hermione staring open-mouthed at the door where Ron had just now exited the hospital wing. Then he glanced down at the remains of his broomstick, before the Boy-Who-Lived reached over for the bag and gently gathered the few pitiful remains back into the container.

{ Well, why not? Ron's right – it'd be the best way to say goodbye to a good friend... }


Hogwarts grounds, not far from the Whomping Willow

The next day

Hermione still couldn't believe this was actually happening.

Okay, she'd encountered a lot of things in the realm of oddness since the day Professor McGonagall had shown up at her house with her Hogwarts letter, and told her and her parents that she was a witch...

A troll. A basilisk. Talking portraits. Ghosts and magic of all kinds.

But this? A funeral for a broom, of all things?

{ Only in the wizarding world, } Hermione sighed to herself, as she wondered – and not for the first time – how she'd been persuaded to go along with this sort of lunacy. Then she took note of a mournful-looking Harry standing at her side. { Oh, yes, that's how... }

She looked around, and saw Harry's teammates standing close to their captain and dressed in their Quidditch robes. Someone had persuaded Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell to wear black widow's veils for the occasion, and Fred and George – Ron's older brothers – were wearing black top hats. The two pranksters were grinning madly, while Oliver Wood was looking as grim and heart-broken as if an actual person had died.

{ Quidditch nuts, the lot of them. Still, this rather reminds me of that old James Bond movie, "Live And Let Die". And it's not like a kidnapping is unheard of here at Hogwarts, } the Granger girl reflected to herself.

"Hem-hem," Ron cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention. The young man then went on, "My friends, fellow Gryffindors and Hogwarts students. We're gathered here today to say goodbye to a loyal companion and a faithful friend; Harry's Nimbus 2000."

"Hear, hear," Fred – or was it George? – spoke up.

"Great girl, she was," George – or Fred – responded.

"George is right; that broomstick was definitely more than just an 'it', a piece of wood with twigs attached," Ron nodded and went on, and Hermione noticed how that remark immediately caught Harry's attention. "Like the great ships of the air, Harry's Nimbus 2000 was definitely a 'she'. And 'she' was, without a doubt, the greatest ride I've ever experienced!"

"Well said, little bro," Fred said, with a huge grin on his face. "I remember my first time with her, y'know – it was incredible to actually feel her between my legs, to mount her and ride her like there was no tomorrow..."

{ OHHHH! } Hermione's face burned scarlet and the three female Chasers giggled, as they caught the sexual innuendo. { How dare Fred say that at a funeral – no, wait, what am I thinking? This isn't a real funeral, it's a stupid farewell for a lousy broomstick of all things! }

"Doesn't compare to my first time with her," George responded to his twin's eulogy. "The first time Harry ever let me ride her, I felt like smoking a fag afterwards, it was such a thrill..."

All of a sudden, Oliver – a seventh year who (up until now, anyway) Hermione had held some respect for, for his dedicated and unquestionable work ethic – he fell to his knees and openly started sobbing. The brightest witch of her age was flabbergasted, { What on earth is he – }

"It's not right, it's not fair! She was taken from us too soon," Oliver sobbed, which instantly made Hermione want to clobber him. "Harry's broomstick still had so much to look forward to! Winning the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup – and not just this year, but for the rest of Harry's time here at the school! Then there would have been the big leagues – and maybe, just maybe, one day, the Quidditch World Cup..."

"There, there," Harry awkwardly comforted his captain, while Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from exploding in annoyance. It didn't help that Angelina, Alicia and Katie were giggling nonstop by this point, and Fred and George were likewise snorting with laughter.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Oliver," Harry went on, oblivious to the mirth of his teammates, "but I'm not even fourteen yet, honestly – I mean, the Quidditch World Cup?"

"I reckon you could do it, mate," Ron said loyally, and just for a moment, Hermione forgot to be angry over this farce in the face of her best friend's honesty and compassion. "You were born to fly, Harry, and Charlie told me he thinks you could play Seeker for England, after you finish up at Hogwarts! It's just too bad your Nimbus won't be there, to share in the glory..."

{ Honestly, how can he act like Quidditch is the meaning of life this way? } Hermione quickly got annoyed all over again. { I swear, any moment now... }

"Ron's right," Wood sniffed, as the team captain finally got up off his knees and wiped away the tears. "I'm sorry, everyone. It's just – I never even got the chance to ride her –"

"THAT'S IT!" Hermione suddenly yelled, her patience and self-control finally exhausted. "IT WAS JUST A BROOM, FOR PITY'S SAKE! HAVE YOU PEOPLE GONE MAD, OR SOMETHING?!"

There was a long moment of silence, before Ron stared at her in shock and said, "Hermione! Have you no respect for the dead?"

"No respect for Quidditch, more like," Fred sniffed, even though he was still grinning like a loon.

"I'm surprised at you, Hermione. Don't you know how important Quidditch is to our Harry, here?" George asked in fake surprise, his grin growing even bigger than that of his twin.

{ Grrrrr... } Hermione growled to herself, after seeing Harry staring at her with a look of betrayal and confusion plastered all over his face. { I don't believe this! Still, it's probably more or less what I deserve, choosing to be best friends with a couple of boys... }

"And what are you three laughing at?" Hermione semi-snarled at the three Chasers.

"Nothing," Alicia choked out, trying not to snicker and grabbing hold of George's hand.

"Not a blessed thing," Angelina likewise choked out, and grabbing hold of Fred's hand.

"Nothing funny as far as I'm concerned," Katie shook her head violently. "This is a funeral, after all."

"Right, let's not dwell and all – it's time for the burial," Ron spoke up. The annoyed look on the ginger's face instantly made Hermione want to do something drastic.

Damn it all – she never used to get into these situations, before she became best friends with Ronald bloody Weasley and Harry effing Potter!

Somehow, somehow Hermione managed to keep her mouth shut as Oliver used his wand to dig a shallow grave into the grass-covered earth, and then Harry slowly and reverentially placed the bag containing his broomstick's remains into the hole. Fred and George then filled in the grave, as Ron continued to speak about the wonders of the Nimbus 2000. And quite a few other broomstick models as well. { Oh, honestly! }

Hermione finally gave up and simply clamped a hand onto her mouth, to keep herself from screaming all over again. It was either that, or she'd punch Ron (and probably everyone else) for forcing her to witness all this! It didn't help that Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina and Katie were openly laughing at her – neither did it help that Oliver, Ron and Harry were still too engrossed in the so-called 'funeral' to notice!

"And so, as we lay Harry's broom to rest and return her to the earth from whence she came, let us pause and remember her life. Her accomplishments, her victories, the lost opportunities she would have had in the future..." Ron started to finish up his speech.

"Not to mention," Fred started.

"What a great ride she was!" George finished.

{ That's it, } Hermione fumed silently. { I'm going to murder those two in their sleep later tonight, see if I don't! }

Oliver Wood, who had finally stopped weeping by this point, transfigured a nearby clod of earth into a gravestone. He then placed the gravestone at the head of the grave and said, "What would you like inscribed on the stone, Harry?"

"Errrr..."

It was pretty obvious her speckled, scrawny git of a best friend hadn't considered that, either before or during this sham of a funeral, and again Hermione wanted to growl in annoyance. { Hurry up and say something, Harry, or I swear – I'll save Voldemort the trouble, and kill you myself! Slowly! }

"We'll do it!" Fred and George said together, and the boys used their wands to inscribe the following onto the gravestone:

HERE LIES HARRY POTTER'S NIMBUS 2000
31-8-1991 – 6-11-1993
THE BEST RIDE A TEENAGE BOY COULD EVER HAVE

{ Forget killing them, that's too good for the twin terrors, } Hermione thought to herself vindictively, ignoring the amusement from most of the others. { I'll write to their mother, that's what I'll do! Get Mrs. Weasley to send them a Howler or something. I won't let this, this, this horrible fiasco go! I'll – }

Hermione abruptly noticed that the three Chasers had laid flowers upon the grave (that was enough to almost burst a blood vessel in her brain!) and then Ron said, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Farewell, Nimby – you'll be missed!"

"Well, that's that. And bloody brilliant speech, Ron," Fred smiled and clapped his younger brother on the back.

"Splendid funeral, one of the best I've ever been to," George grinned and likewise gave his sibling a thumbs up.

"You've been to lots of funerals, then?" Harry asked, making Hermione want to growl at him all over again.

"Best one before this was for Uncle Bilius, few months back," Fred smiled at her wickedly.

"Before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party, he was," George reminisced fondly. "I remember one time, the man downed an entire bottle of firewhiskey – then he ran onto the dance floor, hoisted up his robes and started pulling bunches of flowers out of his –"

"Yes, your uncle sounds like a real charmer," Hermione hurriedly interrupted, not wanting to hear details. "Oh, Ron, could I speak with you – alone?"

Ron shrugged, as the Gryffindor Quidditch team closed ranks around Harry and they headed back towards the castle. "Yeah, alright. What is it?"

Hermione didn't waste time with words – she just drew her wand and starting chasing the ginger-haired boy in the direction of the Whomping Willow, firing stinging jinxes and pus-squirting hexes at him relentlessly, and ignoring Ron's desperate pleas for mercy.

Back at the broom's gravesite, a huge black dog – one that was horribly thin, and looked very much like a Grim – trotted up to the transfigured headstone, placed a paw on it and barked loudly, "Woof!"

It was the most beautiful funeral Sirius Orion Black, fugitive and animagus, had ever eavesdropped on. { Hell of a send-off, that was; going to have to ask the Weasley boy to conduct my funeral as well, in case I snuff it before I catch that blasted rat! }

Elsewhere, Hermione finally lost sight of Ron – and so the bushy-haired genius thought to herself, { I have got to find some female friends, instead of my two current idiots. Maybe Ron's sister Ginny? No, wait, I've heard she's just as much of a Quidditch fanatic as her brothers, and Harry... oh, well, never mind. I'll find someone. Eventually. Even if it's the last thing I do! }

And, much to the detriment of Harry's godfather and the British wizarding world later that year, she did.


A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and sent feedback so far, it's much appreciated - and please, keep it coming! Oh, and this 'might have been' initially begins at the end of chapter 9 (p. 182) of JKR's 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.' So anything from there in this chapter doesn't belong to me, no way, no how!