Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, and I'm merely allowed to play around with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Most, if not all, the reviewers for last chapter told me they had found the last chapter very sad. I found it sad too, and I had to write it, may I remind you! :'( Anyway, that was just to say that this was not the last sad chapter in this story. In fact, this one is pretty bad too. But, hey, this isn't a Disney movie! This can't be lovey-dovey all the way, that'd be boring. Besides, if Mary hadn't died, we should've seen her in the books... Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and I hope you don't hate me after this chapter, but it ties certain lose ends, so… Yeah, enjoy. :) And I answered guest reviews in the AN at the bottom.

Chapter 26

-o-O-o-

Mary's funeral was beautiful.

Sure, it had been raining, but it was dignified. Her coffin was made of ebony wood, of a lustrous raven black colour. Four men Hermione did not know had carried it to her tomb, in Godric's Hollow's cemetery.

No one had cried. Not Lily, not James, not Sirius, not Remus… Not even Hermione.

She wasn't sad, so to speak. She was devastated by her friend's death, sure, but everyone was. It was just that, when the men set the coffin down, she somehow felt like she was watching her own funeral, but from another person's point of view.

She felt hollow, not uncaring but unfeeling. Professor Dumbledore made a small speech about the circumstances of her death, and then it was Remus' turn to speak.

He went to stand on a small podium behind the coffin and started speaking:

"I haven't written a speech; as I was too busy crying myself dry over Mary's… anticipated departure." He cleared his throat. "In any case, I think she'd have preferred it if it came straight from my heart, and not passing by some random piece of paper.

"What I wanted to say is… Mary, you are loved. I use the present tense, because although your body seems cold and unmoving, you are remembered, just as any people who have left us since the beginning of this war. It's an ugly thing, war. It hurts people, the alive more than the dead.

"But we mustn't give up. We must fight. You would have wanted that, Mary… That day that you left, that tragic, tragic day… Mary, it was the day I was going to ask you to marry me." He pulled out a small burgundy box and held it out for the people to see. "I just wanted to wait, wait for all the stress of the mission to be over so I could ask you and have no doubts.

"Mary, I'm sorry. I should have asked you earlier, I know you wanted this… You never said anything, but I could see it in your eyes, when you looked at James and Lily… I knew you were waiting, so I planned everything… But too late.

"The two years I spent with you were the best of my life. I couldn't have asked for any more, especially with my condition. You understood… We went through so much together, I thought nothing could separate us… But it's like in the vows I looked up: 'Until death do you apart.'

"Death did us apart, Mary. But only physically. As far as I'm concerned, you're still alive, as long as someone remembers you as the sweet, loving and brave girl you were. I love you, Mary."

And with that, he left the pulpit; shoving his hands down his pockets and his hair, wet with the rain, hid his face as the tears must have poured down his cheeks.

It was Hermione's turn to make a speech. She climbed on the pulpit and declared: "I haven't written anything down either, for I deemed it more appropriate to let my feelings express themselves, and not restrained in some parchment. However, I will read something out, a couple of passages taken from a Muggle play, 'Julius Caesar', by William Shakespeare.

"It talks of a great ruler, brutally murdered by a man he thought he trusted. After all, the murderer could be among us right now… Anyway, this is taken from Act 2, Scene 2, where Caesar's wife warns him once again of his supposedly close friends. 'When beggars die there are no comets seen, the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.'

"Mary was no Roman princess. But she wasn't a beggar, either. She was a generous, lively woman. She was the first person with whom I had a proper conversation here. I remember it very well, although it was nearly two years and a half ago.

"We discussed how much bullshit Divination was, and had a good laugh." She smiled. "I would never have thought that her life would have brutally been taken away from her, even less that I would've been here to watch.

"Mary died saving someone, sacrificing her life to save another, one of a person she loved. Which brings us to my second quote: 'Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once.'

"Mary was brave. She was a true Gryffindor. She was born one, and has died as one. She has never tasted death but once, and we must admire her for what she's managed. She never woke up one day saying: 'Hey, what if I die tomorrow?' She was always optimistic, believing in the good people possessed, no matter how much wrong they'd done to her.

"I also remember she couldn't stand the sight of someone hurting. Every time something like that happened, she would freak out. She must have though that it made her useless, a coward, but it never did.

"If she could think, I hope she'd be proud of what she's done. She's overcome her fears and decided to die instead of someone. That's the bravest things she could've done.

"So, yeah, I hope she's proud of her, because, I don't know about you," Her voice cracked slightly and she sniffed, but she continued anyway. "I don't know about you, but I'm God damn proud of you, Mary."

She took out a tissue and blew her nose, before taken over where she'd stopped. "And my last quote, before I finish, is addressed to you all, to remind you that whatever happens, we're still together. Mary's still with us, she'd never have left us alive, let alone dead. So: 'Of all the wonders I have yet heard it seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.'"

And so she finished, and the men picked the coffin back up and set in down in the yawning mouth of the earth, its eternal home.

In the distance, thunder rolled, like the heavy drums that closed funerals, and the rain poured harder.

-o-O-o-

"Crucio!"

Regulus writhed on the ground as pain leapt up at him. I didn't last very long, however, and the Dark Lord released him.

"That is the second time you have failed me, Regulus!" he hissed angrily, as the raven haired man struggled to stand up.

When he finally managed, he panted: "I'm sorry, My Lord."

"Sorry?" the Dark Lord spat. "You were given the charge of handling the Mudblood Granger! You let her escape, and now the Order knows that Hestia Jones it at our mercy! We can't use that plan anymore! The whole operation failed, because of you!"

Regulus bowed his head, not daring to tell him that he hadn't only let her escape, but he had also lent her his wand, therefore making everyone else escape.

"Your punishment-" the Dark Lord started, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter!" he shouted out, seriously irritated.

"My Lord." Severus said as he entered and bowed low. The Dark Lord motioned for him to stand up, and he did, his face impassive. "I have brought the person you wanted. He was reluctant at first, but with the use of force, he complied."

Voldemort nodded, waving his hand at the greasy haired Death Eater. "You can leave now, Severus. Tell him to come in."

Severus bowed low again and left the room. Regulus took a glance at the Dark Lord. He was smiling. That was definitely not a good sign. Gulping, Regulus waited a few more seconds before entered…

Regulus' breath caught in his throat. "Father?" he asked.

Orion Black didn't look his best. His expensive robes were torn and tattered, as well as smeared with blood. His nose looked somehow crooked, as if it had been broken, and he had a black eye. His face was bloodless, however, so Severus must have cleaned him before sending his in.

The Dark Lord laughed at Regulus' expression. Regulus stared at him, horrified at what might happen next. He watched him pull out a golden locket from his robe pocket, and walk to place it in front of Orion, on a little stool.

"Your father," Voldemort started. "Has agreed, albeit reluctantly, to participate in my conquest of the wizarding world. He has agreed to make me immortal." He laughed. "You are familiar with the concept of Horcruxes, I presume?"

Regulus nodded. He had read all about them in the books that his family possessed. Then everything dawned on him. "You're not," he choked in fear. "You're not going to kill my father, are you?"

The older man laughed. "You are rather slow, aren't you?" he sneered. "Not only do I get to kill your father to make another Horcruxe, but you are going to have to watch."

"No!" Regulus called out, outraged but terrified at the same time. "You can't do that!"

Voldemort, with an evil gleam in his eyes, flicked his wand, and suddenly, Regulus was pushed against a wall, unable to move or talk, his eyes fixed upon the sight of his father, at the hands of the darkest and most evil person the world held.

And from that moment on, Regulus hated the Dark Lord.

He raised his wand, pointing it at Orion Black's head. The father stared at the son, their light silver eyes mirroring each other's expressions, until Voldemort cried out "Avada Kedavra!"

The two pairs of eyes still stared, though one alive and angry, the other lifeless and unseeing. Slowly, like an angel descending upon the Earth, Orion Black fell, hitting the floor with a dull thud as his son watched.

His stomach churned, but he found himself unable to empty his stomach. So he watched as the locket gleamed with a sick, greenish glow and a piece of black soul detached himself from his father's murderer and flew, only to latch itself to the golden piece of jewellery.

There was a bang, and everything went black.

-o-O-o-

"But, Master Regulus, Kreacher doesn't want to go."

Regulus sighed. "But the Dark Lord wants you to go, so you will." he told the House Elf gently.

Kreacher pouted, making him even uglier, but nodded in agreement.

Regulus smiled. "Thank you, Kreacher." he said. The man and the elf both left the room, where the Dark Lord was waiting.

It had been a week since Orion Black's death, but he had already been buried. Since he was more loved than Alphard had been, they didn't make him wait as long. Besides, they didn't need to know if it had been murder or not. They knew it was.

But still, nobody had said anything.

After the Dark Lord had left with Kreacher, Regulus sat down next to his mother, on the living room couch. "Don't you hate the Dark Lord?" he asked her softly after a while.

She shook her head, although rather stiffly. "He wants to rid the world of its scum. If your father's life was the price to pay, then so be it."

He sighed at her stubbornness. "Didn't you ever imagine, just once, that the world is okay with…Muggles and Muggleborns cohabiting with us?"

She turned to him quicker than he would have thought. "Regulus!" she shrieked. "What are you saying?! We wizards possess things that Muggles do not! We have magic! We are superior! We should be the dominants in this society, not them!"

"But Muggles have things we don't!" he argued. "They invented electricity, cars, washing machines… We may have magic, but our world is modelled on theirs. They have learnt to adapt without this advantage that we possess."

"Regulus," she said, her noise pinched. "You are denying everything I have put my heart and soul teaching you!"

"But, Mother," he tried again. "We could be dominant, if we mixed with them. Out society is like…An egg. The Muggles would be the white, as you said, disadvantaged but more represented, and we would be the yolk. Right now, they are separated, but if we mix them… All we'd have is yellow, right? So we would win in the end."

She shook her head. "I don't believe it." she said, looking disgusted at her own son. "You are just as bad as your brother. Comparing us, the prestigious, most ancient Black family, to egg yolk?"

He sighed. "I'm just saying that maybe isolating ourselves from the rest of the world isn't the best idea." And with that, he simply stood up and left the room, climbing the stairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he called out: "Kreacher!"

With a resounding crack, the elf appeared, and Regulus could do nothing but gasp at the sight of his faithful servant, mangled and bloody, wet and shivering, bruised and dripping onto the thick emerald carpet. Kreacher opened his mouth and croaked: "Mas…ter…" before dropping to the floor, unconscious.

-o-O-o-

Please review! :D

Leo- I'm glad you like my fast updates, because I enjoy them too! :) I'm sorry you were in the train when you read it, it must have been awkward... And I hope you liked the Regulus presence in this chapter. ;)

breizh- No, she didn't change the course of time. She figured she can't do that, and in the books they can't, so I respected that. Also, I did read quite some fics where Remus is the one who loses his love... But Hermione had to (temporarily) be with Sirius, and it was better for Mary to be emotionally attached to someone. Lastly, I'm very glad you like the way I portray the characters.