Disclaimer: Still not JKR
So, this chapter took a while, and to be honest, I don't see the second once coming up soon. Another thing that bugged me was the lack of reviews. It kind of killed the buzz to keep writing. But, I kicked myself a bit, and persevered! Huzzah! I appreciate all my current reviews however, and for your sakes, will strive to take this to the end, whenever that is.
Memorial Day Part One
A bitter breeze blew across Devon, England on a chilly November day in the year of 1986. The day to be precise was November second. All across the United Kingdom, muggles woke up and went about their daily business. Down in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole the muggles were preparing to open their stores and get down on a day's business. However, our story doesn't take place in the muggle side of St. Catchpole, instead, let us follow the bitter winds to the edge of the town, where a large, oddly shaped house stands.
The house looked rather strange, as though someone had rearranged it several times and got bored so they ended up with altered floors and distorted perspective. It seemed to defy all laws of physics as it stood proud and erect in the middle field. However, considering it was magical, it seemed not at all odd. Golden leaves fluttered delicately around the yard, whipping around with the breeze.
On an ordinary day, one might expect to see several red-headed boys out playing raucously. Occasionally a small red-headed girl may trail behind. If one looked much closer, they might see the boys hovering around on broomsticks and tossing apples towards each other. However, today was not an ordinary day in the Wizarding World, and for this particular family, it was not even a happy day as it was for the rest of the world.
Bill Weasley, now sixteen years old, found himself staring around the empty kitchen whilst drowning in bitter coffee. His brothers were all getting dressed in their finest robes for the occasion. What should have been a day of mourning for the Weasley family had been distorted into a day of celebration by the ministry. It was sickening.
What had once started out as a brilliant way to mourn the individuals, who died on this day, including Bill's youngest brother, had been distorted into a celebration day. The first two ceremonies had been solemn and peaceful. People paid their respects to the Potters, and offered their condolences to all the families, Bones, Longbottom, Lovegood, and Weasley. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin received condolences from a distance, mostly because Mr. Black was an incoherent drunk. Afterwards people would go out to drink and celebrate the dawn of a new era. For the families, they often retired to their own homes to mourn their losses. The Ministry had ordered a special holiday on the days of November 1st and 2nd. That's how Bill got out of Hogwarts and was sent home to celebrate. Of course, he'd probably still be forced to leave to show up at the Memorial Ceremony.
However, somewhere between the second ceremony and third, an idiot had come up with the idea to bring in some celebration to the Memorial Ceremony. People would cheer and laugh and congratulate each other. The Potter Family had received an Order of Merlin during the fourth ceremony which Mr. Black had stumbled on stage to collect, before throwing up on Minister Bagnold. Peddlers would go through the crowd, selling tokens and toys to children. Stories of the day would be retold over and over again. Last year, a man had the gall to tell his mother that it was lucky she had so many children, otherwise she's have ended up like the Lovegoods.
This year was possibly going to be the worst year. They had planned to do a re-enactment of the entire day, starting from the destruction of You-Know-Who, leading directly into what had been tragically titled the Final Sacrifice. Then they'd have speeches and to make the entire thing even better, they were presenting each family with some kind of gift to acknowledge their loss. They did it every year.
The first year his family had received a thousand galleons. The second year, they'd received a basket of toys and clothes. The third year they'd been given more galleons. The last year had been the worst yet. Beside the grave of James and Lily Potter, they'd erected five, tiny headstones, to supposedly symbolize the five children who died. His mother had almost gone hysterical when she read Ron's name on the first one. They were in order of how the children had been taken. The Daily Prophet had written her entire episode as some kind of grief and gratitude garbage.
"Is mum awake yet?" asked Charlie, as he stumbled downstairs.
He was dressed appropriately in sombre navy blue robes. At fourteen, he was just beginning to grow, and would be a matter of time before his robes would be handed down to Percy. Despite the ministry having given the Weasley's a large sum of money the year his brother died, and then later the thousand galleons, his family remained frugal to the core. The money was set aside for things like education and major expenses. No one was comfortable in using the money for what it symbolized. His mother on principal had the money separated in the Gringotts vault, and refused to touch it.
"I don't think so. Dad's probably trying to convince her out of bed," said Bill.
"Or he's attempting to slip and injure himself in the shower," said Charlie.
"He'd never let mum go alone to the bloody ceremony by herself, especially not after last year," said Bill with a shake of his head.
"This year they'll be focusing on us," grimaced Charlie.
"Yeah, the first appearance by the entire Weasley Family, I mean, since Ginny is coming too," said Bill with a groan.
"Did you get Ginny dressed yet?" asked Charlie.
"No, I'll get her up, can you make breakfast for everyone, I doubt mum will be capable of it today," said Bill.
"I'll get started," promised Charlie, already searching for some eggs.
Bill climbed up the stairs, past his room, where he saw his younger brother. He stopped. Percy was wearing his robes, and had some paper in his hand as he looked towards a large mirror. Bill's room held the only full mirror for someone to look at themselves. Curious, Bill began to watch his younger brother whilst trying to puzzle out why Percy was looking at himself.
"Good day madam Minister, my name is Percy Weasley. On behalf of the Weasley Family, I want to tell you that we are not going to stay and are leaving, thank you very much. You see, we have all these reasons for leaving that it just makes better sense that we go now," said Percy, reading awkwardly off of his sheet, that Bill stifled his laughter with his fist.
Something about the ten year old in robes a bit too short, preparing a speech for the Minister was hilarious.
"What are you doing Percy?" asked Bill, entering the room.
"I'm practicing my speech!" said Percy solemnly, staring up at Bill with big blue eyes through his horn-rimmed glasses.
"I see that, but why?" asked Bill, sitting down on Percy's bed.
"Because I don't want to go," said Percy with a scowl, moving to sit beside his older brother.
"None of us do, but telling the minister doesn't help anyone, she can't excuse us anymore than we want to be excused," said Bill.
"Why not?" asked Percy, taken aback.
"Well, the minister has to make everyone happy, and the general people are happiest when they get to celebrate today, because for them, todays not about loss, it's about winning. We have to go because we're like the reminder of the final loss. People want to see us because we're like the last connections to the war, and to losing. They want to make themselves sad for us and think that we're unhappy for them," said Bill.
"That's stupid, why do they want us to be sad Bill?" asked Percy.
"They don't want us to be sad; they just treat us as the closest thing to heroes. People expect us to be sad because we lost our brother, but they want to feel like they're doing well by making us happy with this ceremony. In the ministry's twisted mind, this ceremony is to make us happy," said Bill bitterly.
"But it doesn't make us happy," said Percy, confused.
"Yes, but we can't tell anyone because that's making them look bad, and you don't make the ministry look bad," said Bill angrily.
"I'm going to make them change," said Percy resolutely.
"Sure thing kid, but why don't you save speeches for when you're older?" suggested Bill.
"Fine," pouted Percy.
"Go downstairs and help Charlie make breakfast," said Bill, as the two walked out of the room.
Bill continued walking across the hallway until he reached Ginny's room. Inside, he saw his younger sister. She was still asleep in her bed. Her red hair fanned out around her messily. Her pale cheeks were slightly rosy with color. Clutched tightly with her tiny fists was a patched and dirty green dragon toy. It was Totty.
"Stupid dragon," muttered Bill with slight fondness as he approached his sister to wake her up.
When Ginny had been born, Charlie had given up Totty to her. It had surprised everyone since he absolutely adored the dumb dragon. Later on, Charlie had explained, as best as a nine year old can, that it was to protect Ginny. Charlie had somehow worked it out in his head that Totty had saved Bill and Fred from the evil men and that's why they'd made it to Muriel's safely on that godforsaken night. So he gave the dragon to Ginny to protect her from the evil men, because he didn't want to lose another baby.
"Wake up Gin, it's time to get dressed," said Bill, shaking Ginny slightly.
Immediately, her brown eyes popped open, and she gave him a big smile.
"Totty's not dumb, and I'm already awake!" she said, sitting up proudly.
"It's time to get ready for the ceremony today," said Bill.
"Alright," said Ginny, as she bounced out of bed to pull on her new dress for Memorial Day.
"Excited, are we?" asked Bill.
"Well, Percy told me that they're doing a big play and it's all about Ron!" said Ginny excitedly.
Bill frowned. Ginny knew the story about Ron, but, in hindsight, she really didn't know about his death. In her mind, Ron was another brother who'd disappeared and then became a hero when he died. None of the Weasley's particularly liked to talk about Ron. He suddenly had a grave feeling in his stomach. This would be the first time Ginny would get all the dirty details about Ron's death. Could she really handle it?
"It's not all about Ron," said Bill.
"I know, but it talks about Ron. Percy said Ron was a really cute baby, and that he would have been a really good big brother to me, do you think so?" asked Ginny, as she began stuffing Totty in an absurd doll's dress.
"I'm certain he'd have loved you," said Bill with a smile.
"Bill, why does nobody want to go?" asked Ginny, once again displaying her childlike insight to complicated matters.
"It's one of those things that will make you sad," said Bill.
"Oh," said Ginny, frowning.
"Let's get you dressed, alright?" said Bill, not wanting to upset his sister on what was sure to be the worst day in her life.
"Wake up Sirius!" called Remus. His voice rang throughout the poorly maintained apartment.
Remus sighed. Five years ago, he and Sirius had drunk to their sorrows. Fast forward five years, and Sirius was still drinking. Remus would confess that he too partook in his fair share of alcoholism, but, having to be the bigger person, had let the drink go to care for Sirius. He owed it to his last remaining friend to atone for his sins of not believing him in that last moment. He owed it to James and Lily, who he'd already failed when their son died. He owed it to the Marauders to keep what was left of their last unhappy members alive. It wasn't easy, especially since Sirius was intent on drowning himself in sorrow.
He himself had tried getting a job at a library, and raked in a few galleons to support himself and Sirius. Sirius had given up on supporting himself at all, and was best only when he was drunk. It wasn't that sobering up would be difficult for Sirius; it was just easier for Sirius to face people when drunk. He was just so angry and depressed that the high from the alcohol made him a lot more tolerable, if obnoxious and stupid.
"Remus, is that you?" groaned a voice from underneath some dirty laundry. Remus made a note to scourgify that mess, and then possibly burn it.
"Are you awake? It's time to get dressed to go celebrate," said Remus sardonically.
"Fuck me, that's today," said Sirius, as he lifted himself up and began to search for a bottle.
"They're empty," said Remus as he helped Sirius to his feet.
"Bloody hell, couldn't you have replaced them?" asked Sirius with a glare.
"When you're showered and presentable, maybe," said Remus.
"Who cares if I'm bloody presentable? Skeeter won't be looking at be for gossip. She'll be looking at the Weasleys, or the Lovegoods," said Sirius.
"As far as I recall, last year she published a lovely article on our relationship," said Remus with his own smirk.
"Which one? The one where I'm the abusive tyrant and you're my meek-mannered friend trying to support me in our eternal grief? The one where I was your lover and then at the loss of our best friend and godson, I broke and you still attempt to care for me in your love? Or the one where my antics constantly make you miserable, but deep down, you know I'm just a wild, lost soul and you need to stand by my side and care for my tortured soul, in hopes that I one day wake up and realise we were meant to be?" asked Sirius.
"I think she published all three last year, she feeds off the Memorial Day service like a vulture preying on the dead," said Remus, his face falling at the appropriateness of the analogy.
"Just so you know, I would propose to you, it's just I would embarrass you at our wedding," said Sirius mockingly.
"Oh shut up. Get yourself showered or else," said Remus.
"Or what?" asked Sirius.
"I'll hose you down and make you go through the service sober," said Remus with a smirk.
"Bloody hell. This is a mutiny! Just you wait; I'll corner Skeeter this year and tell her all about how I'm the abused one in this relationship! It's about time I got some sympathy," said Sirius as he got up to shower.
"Oh be gone with you," said Remus, as Sirius left to shower.
Remus sighed as he collected the Daily Prophet from the delivery owl. On the front page were details of what this year's memorial service would include. He'd already hidden from Sirius the re-enactment, and he knew that Sirius would be enraged by it. He had been boiling already. It had taken all his self-control when he read it to keep Moony from emerging in the middle of the library and tear down the shelves in rage.
When the early ministrations by the Prophet had turned up in an attempt to glorify this day, Xeno had been furious. He'd printed article after article about the horror of this day. Selene had perched behind him adding insults where she could, channeling her anger into the magazine. However, the ministry had banned the issues from continuing and created a law that disallowed any negative publications about Memorial Day. So, in retaliation, the Lovegoods did what was possibly the only thing they could do without being hauled to Azkaban, they published one issue entirely on the horror of the war and the grief. Then they remained silent and refused to acknowledge the Memorial Day service.
The Quibbler was really the only magazine that seemed to fight the ministry. After many convicted Death Eaters walked free and many implied Death Eaters escaped trials, they'd published articles about the injustice. They had fought for all the Death Eaters to be tried under Veritaserum, but only succeeded in getting a trial for them all. Later, they continued to publish things the ministry didn't want revealed. Anybody who had a story could go to the Quibbler to have it told. Sometimes a few far-fetched and rather strange articles would crop up, but all in all, many angry people who wanted to be heard on controversial issues would go Xeno and Selene and have their articles published.
Bagnold had already decided to retire early. By next year, they'd have a new minister. Possibly an idiot who the peons at the ministry could control. They'd want someone who had a bit of charm and a kindly nature to him. They'd want someone who looked too nice to be someone the Lovegoods could paint in a bad light.
Remus paused in his thinking as he heard Sirius come out of the shower. A few broken items later, Sirius stumbled out of his room dressed in his nicest dress robes.
"The Prophet? Really?" asked Sirius, upon seeing the newspaper.
"It's the official newspaper of the ministry," commented Remus absently.
"It's bloody biased. Why didn't you get the Quibbler? At least then I could do the crossword and try out their recipes," said Sirius, sitting down at the table and grabbing an apple that looked rather brown.
"They have horrible recipes," said Remus with an eye roll.
"Some are good," argued Sirius.
"Only when you don't cook," said Remus.
"Whatever, how are the Lovegoods doing anyways?" asked Sirius.
"Still hot and cold," said Remus, "They hate each other some days, love each other on other days. I think that they're cracking under the strain that is marriage. They're having a tough time getting through losing their daughter. I don't think they've even considered having another child."
Sirius stared impassively at the table, leaving Remus to read his paper in an uneasy silence. They both agreed on one thing though in their silence, today was going to be hell.