Chapter 5: Funerals

Okay, so I messed up in like chapter 3 or something and I said the memorial service was in a week but I meant three weeks… so, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.

Disclaimer thing, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be books about the Marauder's Era. There would also be more quizzes on Pottermore like Quidditch position or what subject you would be best at. But, sadly there aren't.

Harry's thoughts are so loud. It's strange because for once everything else is quiet. Maybe his thoughts are trying to make up for the silence that now surrounds his existence—after all, the war is over and Harry feels as if he's fulfilled his purpose, reached his expiration date. He feels like there's nothing left.

It's as if he can't catch a break—which is funny; really, because Voldemort is dead, meaning he should have nothing left to worry about. But he does and the weight of it seems to drag him down constantly; it's like walking with lead taped to his feet. All the while there's a persistent buzz in the back of his mind: this is supposed to be over—it's supposed to get better.

Sometimes, it doesn't feel as if the war ever ended at all, he thinks one day. It doesn't feel like they've stopped fighting yet—not Hermione, who screams in her sleep and wakes up terrified of the world; not Ron, who Harry hasn't seen smile since his brother fell from life; not even Ginny, who seems more alone and distant than ever, slowly sinking further from him with each passing second, even more so than in her second year. And him? Well, Harry fights everyday—he fights himself, he fights the thoughts in his head, and he fights to stay alive. Somewhere along the way he realizes that the fight is a lot harder to win when the enemy is you.

He feels responsible. He is responsible. He's responsible for all of it; all of the death, and destruction—it's his burden and he carries it with tired arms that are a few bad days away from breaking. He sees it in the eyes of the Weasleys on the rare occurrence that he makes a trip downstairs. He feels it in the way Ginny grips his hand, soft but desperate, clinging on to him as if he's liable to float away and leave this life behind. Guilt.

'You walk around like a ghost,' Ron tells him one night as they're pretending to fall asleep. Harry would've realized that it was a joke sooner if Ron's face hadn't been so unbearably blank when he'd said it, or if there'd been just a hint of emotion in his voice. Still though, it's something. Besides, at times Harry does feel sort of like a ghost. He doesn't talk unless he has to, he avoids mostly everyone, and he doesn't feel as if he's fully… there. He's just a shadow.

After a few weeks have passed with the empty feeling in his chest not getting any less empty, he starts to wonder if this is all there is for him in life. Maybe that's the price you pay for being at the front of a war before you're even eighteen, maybe the numbness he feels now is all he'll ever feel. Dread descends on him like a Dementor whenever he sees the wreckage he's bought to those he loves, and he begins to think that maybe it's better to feel nothing.

Ginny provides a light when there seems to be only darkness, but even then his world is dim. He lets her talk to him on the days he can't quite face the world, lets her words dance over his skin and convince him not to act upon the thoughts that drill their way into his brain and plant their roots. It's not much, but it's better than nothing, and it keeps him holding on- at least for now.

There was cool breeze in the spring night's air. Harry Potter could be found lying on his bed deep in thought. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a piercing scream. He shoved his glasses on, grabbed his wand, and bolted out the door. There was no time to put his dressing gown on. The sound was coming from Ginny's room. He jumped down the rickety old staircase and burst through Ginny's door. Ginny and Nyla were still asleep, even after that loud scream because they had taken Dreamless Sleep Potion. Hermione was screaming like she was under the Crutiatus Curse. She probably was, at least in her nightmare. He kneeled beside her bed as the rest of the Weasley family poured in after him.

"Harry? What's going on? Why is she screaming," Molly panicked.

"She's having a nightmare," he responded calmly. Ron ran over and tried to help Harry hold her flailing limbs down. "Hermione, Hermione, everything's okay. Bellatrix isn't here, she's dead, remember," Harry whispered soothingly. Hermione woke up suddenly and gasped for breath.

"Hermione?"

"Ron?"

"Yes, it's Ron," he nodded.

"You're okay," she breathed.

"Yeah, I am."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You're okay, too?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Ginny," she started panicking again.

"Ginny's fine," he nodded over to Ginny's bed. "She had a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion."

"The pair of you needs haircuts," she chuckled.

"We know," Ron responded. It was the first time any of them genuinely smiled. It wasn't that funny but they laughed hysterically.

The Weasley family watched from the front of the room.

"What's going on," Bill whispered to Charlie.

"No, bloody clue. Looks like they're laughing."

"Zat's odd, 'aven't zeen zem laugh in a while," Fleur trailed off.

"I know."

Harry made himself go to every funeral to offer his condolences to every family who los someone during the war. Ginny, Hermione and Ron went with him to every single one. There were only two they were dreading though.

The Lupin's funeral was before Fred's. Andromeda was bringing Teddy to meet his godfather, he would have no idea what was going on and he wouldn't remember but she couldn't just leave the baby alone. They were going to have the service at Andromeda's house and then move their bodies to Godric's Hollow.

Ron and Hermione walked hand in hand down a grass-covered slope.

"How do you think Harry's holding up," Ron muttered.

Hermione looked up, with Ron being at least a foot taller and all. "He's seems… okay," she said firmly. "Although he does seem to be holding Ginny's hand very tightly," she whispered while observing them. Ron nodded and looked ahead.

"Seems understandable. He's probably nervous because Mrs. Tonks is bringing Teddy."

"It's sad," she murmured.

"What is?"

"Teddy's just like Harry. Both of their parents died fighting Voldemort…. But Teddy has people look after him, y'know? He doesn't have any awful Muggle relatives that he has to stay with. He has Harry and Mrs. Tonks," the bushy-haired witch said thoughtfully. "Oomph."

Ron caught her as she tripped. "All right there?"

"Yeah… thanks."

"Anytime."

"Harry, that hurts," Ginny said.

"Sorry, sorry," he repeated as he loosened his vice-like grip on her hand.

"No problem. Oi, what d'you they're talking about?"

"Who?"

"Ron and Hermione."

"Oh, us, most likely. See look, Hermione's looking our way," he said as they made eye contact and she gave him a cheery wave. He gave a two-fingered salute in return.

After the service, Andromeda walked up to him and Ginny, carrying a little bundle in her arms. "Hello, Mrs. Tonks," the dark-haired wizard greeted.

"Please, just Andi."

"Not a problem."

"Well, erm- you get to meet your godson, finally," she replied stiffly.

"Yeah," he breathed as she handed him the baby.

"You have to support his head," Andi adjusted his arm.

"Right," he sniffed. "Hi, Teddy," he cooed as tears welled up in his eyes. Teddy giggled happily and screwed his face up in concentration. When he opened his eyes, he had jet-black hair and magnificent green eyes—just like Harry.

"He likes you," Andi stated. He handed Teddy back to her to wipe his eyes. It wasn't helping much though, as tears came faster and harder. He was just like him: orphaned, because of Voldemort. Lost his parents at a young age. The only thing was; he wasn't going to have a horrid childhood. Harry promised that mentally to himself and Teddy. Teddy had a loving grandmum and godfather, and whole family full of red-heads who would love him as much as they loved Harry. "Ginny, is it?" She nodded. "Nymphadora's told me about you. Said you were a fiery witch with a mischievous—or wicked, as she put it—sense of humor." Ginny smiled fondly as she blushed. "Would you like to hold Teddy?"

"Yes, definitely. Never held a baby before, y'know, me being the youngest Weasley and all." Andi nodded. "Hi, Teddy," she whispered. His face screwed up and he had fiery red hair and chocolate brown eyes like Ginny.

That's what I want our children to look like, Harry thought suddenly. Where'd that come from? Well he did want to get married, when he was older of course. But he was only seventeen! Why was he thinking about children already? He wiped his eyes for the last time and Ginny asked if he was ready to hold Teddy again.

"I'm going to go up to the front," the dark-haired witch informed them. They nodded and cooed over Teddy. Little did they know, a familiar beetle was sitting on a nearby tree.

This was the hardest one for Ron and Ginny.

They were having it on the grounds of the Burrow. Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Leanne Smith, Lee Jordan, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, and Verity Lester were attending.

It took a lot to convince Molly to not have a traditional funeral. They wanted it to be bright and colorful and fun. They wanted to celebrate his life rather than brood over his death. The pall-bearers (Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Ginny, and Harry) would wear Headless Hats and make an entrance through dungbomb smoke. It was a small affair. George was going to give a speech.

Each pair of wizards and witches threw down three dungbombs each as they carried the casket. Some people sniggered as six headless people entered their line of vision. They laid down the casket and went to sit down in their respective seats. "All right, Ginny," Harry asked as they dropped into their seats. She nodded. "You're sure?" She nodded. "Okay."

"Fred was my best friend, my brother, my twin, my other half," George started wearily. "Thanks to our little bro," he said looking directly at Harry. "We were able to start Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Everybody says we shouldn't mourn over someone's death. Fred wouldn't say that, he would say 'Celebrate their lives' and that's what we're here to do.

"Fred went out in style. He went out laughing at our dear brother's joke. He went out fighting for what he believed in. He went out fighting for what's right. He went out fighting for freedom. Our family is known as blood-traitors. We're proud. We don't discriminate against people because of their blood status. We judge their personality. We judge their choices. Our world shouldn't be ruled by some nose-less bigot. That's what Fred believed in and he fought for it." He wiped his eyes as he stepped down from the podium. The casket was lowered into the ground as George set of fireworks. There was one spelling out F-R-E-D, a large 'W', a few dragons, and Bludgers.

"Nice speech, mate," Harry said walking alongside George.

"Thanks- for everything really."

"No problem, I didn't need the money anyway."

"No- I mean, like, really- everything. With y'know, Quidditch and saving Ginny, and giving us your winnings, and forming the DA, and saving Dad, and just in general- just being there," he said earnestly.

"N- no problem," Harry said as he ducked his head. "You know the Marauder's Map?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, and erm- I know who the creators are."

"You do?!"

"I'm sure they've told Fred about it."

"You mean- they're all dead?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed.

"Well tell me! Don't just lead a bloke on."

"Who d'you wanna know first?"

"Moony," he replied eagerly.

"Professor Lupin."

"No!" he gasped.

"Yes. Who's next?"

"Padfoot ."

"Sirius Black."

"I can see that. How come he never told us," he seemed genuinely offended. Harry shrugged. "Wormtail."

"Peter Pettigrew."

"The bloke who died."

"Nah," and Harry explained everything.

"Prongs."

"My dad." George dropped on his knees in front of Harry.

"We're not worthy! We're not worthy!" he repeated over and over again. "How- why- what? Why didn't you ever tell us," he asked still kneeling.

"Erm… never came up I guess…" They sat down on the steps to the Burrow.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I wanna dye my hair."

"Why?"

"'Cause every time I look in the mirror I just see… him, y'know?"

"Yeah… your mum won't be happy, you know."

"Yeah," he sighed. "But who cares…"

"You do you." Harry shrugged. George grinned. "What?"

"You're telling me to go fuck myself in a polite way."

"Oh?" he asked in surprise. "Oh," he chuckled.

"Oi! George!" he put up a finger.

"I'll talk to you later, Harry. Angie's calling me." Harry nodded as he got up, and went to find Ginny. He checked her room, by the pond, he even asked Nyla and Luna, but they just shrugged. He finally checked in the broomshed.

"What are you doing?"

"Hiding," she replied simply.

"Okay," he said as he slid down the wall next to her. "You all right?"

"Ye- no," she sighed in defeat.

"Wanna talk about it?" She nodded. He heaved her onto his lap and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Everyone just expects me to be fine… but I'm not. Mum keeps trying to force herself to be happy and it's depressing because I've never seen her like this and I'm worried. And dad is so stressed—I can tell because I read people well and he's trying to stay strong for the family but I came down for water one night and I saw him sobbing in the sitting room. I wanted to help but I could tell he wanted to be alone so I just walked upstairs. And Nyla, she's scaring me. She's always tired and she always wakes up in the middle of the night and we usually talk about it except I don't wake up much anymore. And Hermione—Ron told me, woke up sleeping while me and Nyla were dosed on Dreamless Sleep Potion. And when Did Ron and Hermione happen?"

"In the middle of the battle," he answered. "Ron said something nice about house-elves and Hermione just dropped everything and started kissing him. I had to yell, and Ron said 'Now or never'."

"Took them long enough," she muttered. "Anyhow, and Harry, you're scaring me too. Your eyes don't sparkle as much anymore and your smile doesn't reach your eyes. And your bags are purple but you can barely see 'cause your skin is so tanned. But you're not eating well, and you barely come downstairs."

"Yeah… well. It's like, Voldemort's dead and it's supposed to be better but it's not. And I feel like I don't really have a purpose now because I was just raised to defeat Voldemort and I did but now what?"

"Harry, you're purpose in life should be to be happy… but obviously, with what all the shit that's happened in your life… it's sorta impossible…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean…"

"Harry…." He hummed in response. "Have you ever just let it all out?" He knew exactly what she meant. He shook his head.

"Go ahead." Her shoulders slumped and laid her head on his.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Anytime," he replied as he combed his fingers threw her long flowery smelling hair. She started sobbing. Heart-breaking sobs. He whispered soothing words into her ear. (Even though everything wasn't okay and it probably wouldn't be fine.) She sobbed until her shoulders grew tired and the muscles in her face started hurting. She cried until she was sick of hiccuping and her stomach moving up and down.

The left side of his neck and his shoulder was soaked with tears and covered with snot. But he didn't care, he thought as he pressed his lips to Ginny's temple. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too," he replied sincerely.

Harry carried Ginny's sleeping form back into the Burrow. Harry wasn't very strong but Ginny was petite, Harry was about a foot taller than her. Every Weasley, Hermione, Luna, Nyla and Nevile shot him questioning looks. "Shhhh," was all he said. He carried her up to her room and placed her in bed. He Banished her dress robes and blushed. "Ginny," he whispered. "I'm gonna need you to cooperate." She mumbled. It was a struggle to get her sleeping gown but he managed. He placed Muffilato on the door and walked back down the stairs.

"Is she asleep?" Bill whispered.

"Yes, and no need to whisper, I cast Muffilato on the door."

"Where'd you get that spell?"

"It was er- useful, while we were gone," he said rubbing the back of his neck. Bill nodded.

"Y-yeah, I-I would assume so…"

"Molly and I are going to bed, behave boys- and girls," he looked at them pointedly.

"Yes, father," the Weasley boys chorused. He gestured to the kitchen and winked as he followed Molly up the steps.

"What was that about," Neville asked. Bill stood up and put a finger to his moth. He walked into the kitchen and came out with fourteen glasses and two bottles of Firewhiskey. Charlie, George, and Nyla whistled.

"Nyla, Luna," Bill said.

"December fifth, 1980," Nyla answered promptly.

"We're asking birthday dates," Luna asked.

"No- Luna, I need to know if you're underage."

"Oh, no, my birthday was in February."

"Great. Ginny's the only under aged one." He distributed the glasses and poured an equal amount of Firewhiskey into each one.

"This is Firewhiskey," Nyla asked. And Bill nodded. "I've never had it before.

*squeals* This is my longest chapter! I hope you liked it. You can just eh... *cough cough* review *cough cough* and tell me if you did. And i wanted to post this on Harry's birthday but life got in the way, ya know. (And by life I mean Cursed Child. How'd you all like it? Personally, it's like a fic that's permanently etched in my brain so it gets mixed up with canon)

Sneak peak: The next chapter will start with an article from the Daily Prophet by the one and only Rita Skeeter and some hungover wizards and witches.