Chapter 63: Closure II
"So, it has come to our understanding that Antonin Dolohov is somewhere in the mountains of Austria. He is armed, and he is dangerous. Mind you, this is one of the last fugitives of Voldemort's regime, so we need to close this case..."
Harry listened to Terry Boot drone on from his place at the long conference table. Ron was by his side, and further to his left, Hermione was taking detailed notes, as a representative from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry felt his Muggle phone buzz in his pocket and he slyly slipped it out to read the incoming text message. It was from a contact simply labeled Big D:
He's gone. In his sleep.
Harry stuffed the phone back into his pocket. "I have to go," he murmured and excused himself. He stepped out into the stairwell. In the quiet privacy of the stairs, Harry hung his head heavily, simply remembering.
Should he feel something? He wasn't sure. He had known it was coming; Dudley had been texting and emailing him updates on Vernon's cancer battle and treatment for months. Would he mourn? Did Dudley expect him to? No, surely not; Dudley had used his cousin as a sounding board, needing someone to whom he could vent.
The door on the landing above echoed ominously, followed by the clacking of heels. And there was Hermione, looking as concerned and generous of heart as ever. She rested her hand in his.
"What is it?" she searched his face.
Harry looked down at his feet. "My uncle's dead."
Hermione gasped. The question was out immediately. "Are you going to the service?"
"I don't know. Petunia and Dudley might ask me. Even then, I still can't be sure. But there's a good chance the old bastard had the presence of mind to put out a restraining order against me in his will, so perhaps the point is moot."
Sure enough, when Harry got home that night, beating Ginny back from the Prophet by a good ten minutes, there was Pig waiting on the windowsill of his kitchen with a formal invitation. He dashed off a reply, flipped the bird a Sickle, plugged the information on the invitation into his phone, and dropped the envelope into the trash.
It was the night before the service when Harry returned from the office late, to find his wife at their kitchen island with a crumpled piece of paper in her fist. She looked murderous.
"When were you going to tell me about this?" she asked, her voice icily calm. Harry just glared at her and dumped his briefcase beside his favorite easy chair. He retreated into the hallway, turning for the stairs.
"Don't you walk away from me, Harry James Potter!" Ginny snapped, following him, talking to his back. "So it's true, then? You are going. To the funeral of your abuser."
Harry spun around sharply on the top step. "What do you expect me to do, Gin?"
She gawped at him. "Have some pride. Don't go. Don't grace the fucker with your presence!"
"I'm not going for him; I'm going for Dudley and Aunt Petunia!"
Ginny rested her hands on her hips. "Like they're any better..."
"What do you want me to do, Ginny? They asked me to go, the request was heartfelt. They've been having a pretty rough go of it!"
"Obviously, if you're Muggle inbox is any indication..."
Harry gaped at her, his ears turning red, fuming. "Oh, so you've been reading my emails? My text messages? Dudley forwarded that information to me in the strictest confidence!"
"Honestly, love, I've never understood why you've been buddy buddies with your cousin for all these years…."
"He is not a loser! He asked me to go!"
Ginny eyed him hard for a moment, then marched back down the stairs to the kitchen. Against his better judgment, Harry followed her. "You know, Harry, sometimes you're too noble and giving for your damn good -"
"Lower your voice! Our children and our niece are upstairs asleep!"
"I don't care! Have some self-respect! They'll be plenty of others who will go to the piece-of-shit's sham of a memorial!"
"Actually, no, because if what Dudley told me is any indication, it's looking like it's gonna be a party of five! Him, Petunia, Evangeline, Little Hermione, and me!"
Ginny let out a vindicated laugh. "Good. He'll be just as despised in death as he was in life!"
"Yeah, and how would you feel, Ginny? If that was you? Not even his Grunnings colleagues will be there; Dudley's gotten decline after decline!"
Ginny frowned. "Grunnings?"
"It's a Muggle drill making company; he worked there all his life. Used to drive Dudley and me to boredom at the breakfast table. The point is, they're probably not even going to have enough folks to be pallbearers, Gin! Dudley and I are gonna have to do it ourselves. It's not like a magical service, where you can just float the casket over to the gravesite. Remember Colin Creevey's funeral?"
This made her take pause, and her eyes filled with tears. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered.
"Because no matter what happened, it's the right thing to do."
"It should have stopped being the right thing to do twenty-five years ago! I'm not going to that bastard's funeral and you shouldn't, either! You should stay at home, have a nice, quiet evening with your family, and the people who actually love you the way they never did!"
"They're my family, too!"
"Uncle Harry? Aunt Ginny?"
Both adults turned to find a preschool-aged Rose standing in the kitchen in her nightdress, clutching a stuffed hippogriff and looking scared.
Harry glowered at his wife. "Now look what you did." Gliding over to Rose, he knelt so she was eye-level with him and kissed her forehead. "It's all right, Rosebud. Auntie and I were just having a discussion."
"Pretty loud discussion," she frowned, sounding like a clone of her mother.
"Yeah. But that's OK, because the point is that like Mummy and Daddy, Auntie and I are always... united. Against the forces... " he faltered. "The forces of..."
"Pig-headedness?" Ginny cracked dryly.
"I was gonna say 'evil' or something."
The phone suddenly rang. "Comfort your niece," Harry ordered as he leapt for the landline. "Hello?"
"Hey!" Hermione's voice came over the receiver. "Ron and Hughie and I are at the hotel. Great first day of the conference. Rosie asleep?"
Harry bit his lip, embarrassed. "She, uh... was. Actually got up just now to get a drink of water." Behind him, Ginny snorted at the fib. "You wanna talk to her?" He held the receiver out to Rose. "It's your mum."
Rose took it from him. "Hi, Mummy!" she chirped. "Yes, I got my water, and I'm going right back to bed. I'm in Lily's room! OK... I love you, too. Can I talk to Daddy?" She listened as Ron's voice came over the line.
"Now you be a good little girl, and you do what your aunt and uncle tell you."
"Yes, Daddy," Rose murmured quietly. She handed the phone back to her uncle.
"Yeah?... No, I'm taking her and Al to the school in the morning; Audrey will meet us there... Well, she is the headmistress, so yeah... Uh-huh... Nah, I have a previous engagement, but I'll be back to pick them up at lunchtime... Pleading the Fifth… Sure, thanks, Hermione... OK, I love you... Bye." He hung up.
"We're sorry we woke you," Ginny told Rose gently. "Everything's OK. Go back to bed." Rose turned for the stairs. "In fact," she drawled to her husband emphatically. "We should all be in bed."
"All right, big smiles, baby! Big smiles!" Harry grinned as he flashed a picture of a beaming Rose striking a pose with her backpack on her first day of Muggle school the next morning. "Look at those pearly whites! Just like your mummy... All right, Al, get in for one more..."
"Aw, bollocks!"
"Albus Severus! Language," Ginny scolded. "Let your father take the picture." Harry snapped one more before hustling the kids to the car.
"You know, every time I see a camera, it makes me think of Colin..." Ginny mused, reminiscing.
"Yeah, he'd be working for the Prophet by now..." Harry guessed as he opened the driver's side. "Lily's gonna go to the Burrow... James will be home because he has the chicken pox; you'll Floo in to check on him... am I forgetting anything?"
"Nope," Ginny shook her head. Her anger from the previous evening had dimmed with a good night's sleep. "Have... have a good time... Mmm..." She was surprised by, but accepted, Harry's kiss.
"Goodbye, crazy lady," he murmured appreciatively.
"Oi! Get going, Potter!"
Harry laughed as he climbed into the car, and drove his niece and youngest son to Muggle primary school. By the time he pulled up to the curb, a throng of kids were already streaming for the gates. Rose and Albus got out, racing forward when they saw their Aunt Audrey wave from the steps.
"Love you guys! Learn something!" Harry called to the children's retreating backs. Then, he put the Ford Anglia in drive and began making the long, emotional trek to Little Whinging.
He, Dudley, Evangeline, Little Hermione and Petunia were indeed the only ones there. Despite that, and an overcast of clouds, it was a beautiful service. Harry walked his aunt, cousin and his family up to Number Four, Privet Drive. For a time, they just stood on the sidewalk, staring at the old place, each lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, the matriarch of the family spoke. "We'll be heading back to the children's flat for the wake. Won't you come and stay for tea, Harry?" Petunia asked meekly.
Harry glanced at the house, then back at his aunt. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia, but I gotta get back. I'm picking up my son and niece from Mug - from primary school. But I promise I'll write."
Dudley nodded mutely. Harry held out a hand. "Give me some skin."
Dudley tried to turn away, shame in his eyes on behalf of his departed father. "Hey," Harry pressed, his hand still outstretched. "Skin it." The look in those green eyes was firm, but also filled with something much gentler.
Closure. If not forgiveness, not for Vernon, then at least…. letting go.
Dudley finally slapped palms with his cousin. Harry kissed Petunia and Evangeline each on the cheek, ruffled the hair of Little Hermione and headed for his car.