Chapter 3
Double Funeral
The sky above was darkened by clouds that were heavy with impending rain and the wind was blowing with a firm undertone, tossing leaves about in the air. The grass was crunchy underneath of the feet of the people whom had just left, with winter only weeks away. The air was cold, chilled by the cold winds coming in from the north.
Despite all of this, five people stood before two tombstones that rested at the head of the two freshly dug graves. They were what one could consider a strange bunch. They all wore black cloaks and robes with no gloves and regular boots. A rather old fashion style, with two of the five looking rather raggedy in cloaks that were obviously older than all of the others in the five person group.
One of these five was a rather elderly man. He had white hair with a matching beard that extended far past his waist. His baby blue eyes were sad and had a lifeless look to them. Tears were glittering on his wrinkled cheeks, and his half moon glasses were perched perilously on the end of his beak like nose.
Two of the five were men in their middle ages. One had shaggy black hair, blue eyes that were dulled with grief and had heavy bruises from lack of sleep around them. He was pale, as if he hadn't seen the sun in quite a while, and too skinny to have been eating regularly for the past few years.
The other had brown hair that was liberally streaked with gray, giving him an rather sophisticated air of a gentleman. The only downfall was the fact that exhaustion was shone on his pale, haggard face, and his amber eyes were too, struck with grief. This man was wearing a pair of worn, patched and fraying black robes that had obviously seen better days a decade or so ago. He held onto the other middle aged man, whom was sobbing softly, staring at one of the two graves in particular.
The remaining two of the group were teenagers, quickly coming up to the marker of young adults. One was a girl with brown bushy hair, the other a gangly and tall red haired boy. Both were hugging each other, staring at the same grave as the other two men, while the first elderly man, gazed particularly at the other that the four of the group seemed to ignore.
The gravestone to the right read:
Harold James Potter
July 31, 1981 - October 21, 1998
He didn't want to be used
by the wind anymore.
Below this inscription, written so elegantly upon the cold, white marble of the gravestone, was an etching of a maple leaf. The leaf gave the impression of twirling in the wind, to symbolize what the young man, whom had committed suicide by hanging himself, had written in a note that they had later found in his jeans pocket.
The gravestone to the left read:
Severus Seripan Snape
April 1, 1961 - October 21, 1989
He didn't want to be used
by any one or thing.
Below this inscription, also written so elegantly upon the cold, black obsidian gravestone, was an etching of a single raindrop. This raindrop symbolized what they had found written on a suicide note that they had found in his journal that was dated the day before he died. Also, inside of this journal was an apology towards Harry Potter, for using him to vent out his frustrations and anger at James Potter, the father of the boy.
In the suicide letter of Harry Potter, there had been a small note at the bottom, apologizing to Severus Snape for using him as a scapegoat for all of his problems and frustrations. He had even gone so far as to thank the man for not treating him like a hero.
It was only a pity that the two had, had the same idea.
Commit suicide on the same day before anyone could ever use them again.
"It's time for us to go." the elderly man, Albus Dumbledore, whispered into the silent air.
"Can't we-" began the dark haired middle aged man, Sirius Black.
"No, Siri', we do need to leave." replied the other middle aged man, Remus Lupin.
"Ron, can I-" Hermione Granger, the teenage girl, began to ask, but Ronald Weasely, the red haired boy, cut her off.
"Yes, you can stay at the Burrow tonight."
With sad, longing looks towards the two graves, the five wizards left, returning to their places of residence to continue to mourn the loss of the two war veterans.
Deep in the pits of Hell, a teenaged boy with black hair and lightning bolt scar on his forehead was laughing hysterically. He was rolling on the ground, holding his ribs with tears pouring down his face. His cheeks were flushed as he tried to struggle to breath before he was finally able to calm down. When he did, he could help but giggle occasionally.
"It's not funny!" snarled a dark haired man, glaring fiercely at the teenaged boy in front of him. He was rubbing his behind, wincing in pain.
"Yeah, it is! Voldemort spanked you!" the boy collapsed back into laughter.
"I wouldn't laugh if I were you, Potter. It's your turn next." Voldemort snickered evilly. This silence the boy immediately. The dark haired man began to snicker.
"Shut up Snape!" snapped Harry Potter. Severus Snape just shook his head.
"Make me, Potter." he shot back.
Harry sighed, looking up in exasperation, procrastinating as long as he could the spanking that Voldemort was going to give him. He then glanced at Severus, a small smile making its way across his lips.
"You know, we saved the wizarding world. You'd think we'd go to heaven for it, rather than hell. I mean, bloody hell, we could have at least been ghosts as a reward for our hard efforts." Harry pointed out.
"What makes you think that I wasn't on a mission from god?" Voldemort demanded, breaking into the conversation. "After all, I'm only down here to administer your beginning punishment, then I'm heading on back. Now get over here, Potter!"
Would you believe me if I told you that, that came out of nowhere? I can't believe I ended it like that... But then again, it always did annoy me that people would finish their stories with Harry walking away into Heaven, occasionally with someone at his side...
Oh well, I'm not changing it. I like it how it is. Cheers!