Chapter Thirty-Six: Ashes to Ashes

Seeing as how Dumbledore had yet to return from Azkaban, there wasn't much for Harry to do after securing the memory from Slughorn, besides wait. Ron suggested an impromptu Quidditch practice to the team, but the weather outside was still cold and rainy, so Harry, Katie, and the twins banded together to shut down the idea before Angelina could get wind of it. So instead, most everyone wound up either lounging in their common rooms or using the extra time to prepare for their exams.

Surprisingly, Hermione was not one of those in the latter group. When Harry asked her about it, she simply shrugged and responded, 'Some things are just more important than exams'. Under normal circumstances, his first instinct may have been to check to make sure she wasn't an imposter using Polyjuice, but Harry quickly understood her meaning. Indeed, instead of taking off in favour of their individual pursuits, as if it were a normal Sunday, the six Gryffindors who had participated in the assault on Chateau Lestrange had almost instinctively gathered together by the fire in solidarity.

Quickly running through names in his head, Harry realised that even with Astoria at home and Terry at St. Mungo's, that still left one of their number at school without the company of others who shared in the experience.

"Neville, do you want to invite Hannah to come and join us?" he asked suddenly.

The boy in question looked back at Harry with a puzzled expression, seemingly unsure whether he had heard him properly.

"I'm sorry?"

"I was just thinking," said Harry. "Everyone else who fought with us yesterday are either here or away from school. I just thought she might like to be around people who've…I don't know…been through the same thing, I guess."

A spark of recognition flashed in Neville's eyes at Harry's remark. "Er — yeah, that'd be great, actually," he replied appreciatively. "But are we even allowed to bring people from other Houses up here?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "After yesterday, she's an honorary Gryffindor as far as I'm concerned," he replied. "If anybody doesn't like it, they can take it up with me."

"And me," echoed George. "I would've been in a bad way if she wasn't there to patch me up."

"It's fine, Neville. There's nothing in the rules that says you can't invite people from other Houses to your common room," Hermione assured him. "You just aren't allowed to give them the password."

"Right; I'll be back in a bit," said Neville as he stood up to leave, only making it a few steps before stopping to turn around. "Er…Harry…would you mind sending her a Patronus to let her know I'm on my way?"

"Not at all," grinned Harry, drawing his wand from his sleeve and casting the charm.

"You've got to teach us how to do that, mate," remarked Fred, as he watched Harry's ethereal stag bound away to deliver the message.

"Sure," he readily agreed. "It's not all that difficult; just takes some practice."

"You say that about everything, though," Neville pointed out, to general agreement from the others. "Anyways, I'll be back in a few — save my seat for me," he added, and then made for the portrait hole.

Shifting topics, Hermione turned to Ron and asked him, "Has anyone in your family spoken to Percy since the Prophet came out this morning?"

"I haven't," he replied uncaringly.

"Neither have we," Fred and George added in unison.

"He didn't even show up in the Great Hall this morning," added George, "so my guess is he was called back to the Ministry at some point."

"I suppose that would make sense," replied Hermione, before setting her head back down on Ron's shoulder.

"Fudge is going to need all the help he can get," agreed Harry.

"What Percy should do is tell the bloody Minister to piss off," Ron growled in response. "How could he still go to work for that tosser even after seeing proof that Harry's been telling the truth all along?"

"Percy's too stubborn to admit he was wrong straight away," offered George. "He's always been like that, you know? He'll come around eventually."

"Too little, too late, if you ask me," grumbled Ron.

Harry nodded in agreement when Ron looked over at him, even though he thought it was a little too soon to write Percy off completely. For starters, his so-far-unremarkable tenure as interim High Inquisitor had been a stark contrast to Umbridge's reign of terror. If anything, Percy had approached the job as professionally as one could expect — it wasn't really his fault that the job itself was created under false pretences and served no real purpose. It was obvious that Percy had been blinded by his own ambition, but Harry had a feeling his loyalty to the Minister would be tested as the fallout from the prior day's revelations continued to unfold.

Neville returned a short time later with both Hannah and Susan in tow. The unusual sight of two Hufflepuffs in their common room drew plenty of curious looks from the other Gryffindors, but nobody seemed outwardly bothered by their appearance. On the contrary, several of the other fifth years stopped by to say hello. Seamus even lingered around for a while attempting to chat up Susan, with minimal success.

As the day wore on, Harry grew increasingly anxious for Professor Dumbledore to return. He had no idea how long it took to get back and forth from Azkaban, but when dinnertime started to approach without hearing from the headmaster, Harry started to get worried. That's why it was a major relief when Professor McGonagall stopped him in the corridor soon after their meal had concluded.

"There you are, Potter," said the professor, as she walked briskly towards him. Signalling to his friends to go on without him, Harry stopped to allow Professor McGonagall to catch up to him. "Professor Dumbledore has just returned to the castle and has asked you to join him in his office," she informed him. "The password is Fizzing Whizzbees."

Suddenly overcome with anticipation, Harry replied, "Thanks, Professor," and immediately turned to leave.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry stopped and turned around. Professor McGonagall began to speak, then hesitated for a moment before finally telling him, in a stilted voice, "I was glad to hear that you were…unharmed, after yesterday's horrible incident. When you see her, please pass along my condolences to Miss Greengrass on the loss of her sister."

"I will," replied Harry, somewhat taken aback by the rare display of emotion from his head of house. "Thank you, Professor. I'm sorry, but I really need to get to Professor Dumbledore's office — I've been waiting all day for him to get back."

"Yes, well…good luck with whatever it is the two of you have been up to," said McGonagall, trying and failing to hide the note of disapproval in her voice. "And for Merlin's sake, do try to be careful. I feel the headmaster sometimes forgets that you are still just a student."

Harry started to respond, but he ultimately decided there was simply too much to unpack with McGonagall's statement, so instead, he kept his mouth shut and gave the professor a stiff nod in reply before heading off in the direction of Dumbledore's office. Once he arrived, he hurriedly gave the password to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance before practically leaping onto the ascending staircase.

"Come in, Harry," called Dumbledore's voice from inside.

As he entered the office, the first thing Harry noticed was how tired Professor Dumbledore looked.

"Are you all right, sir?" he asked concernedly.

"I will be fine; thank you for asking," the professor replied reassuringly. "Azkaban is not a particularly pleasant place to visit, and I am not as young as I once was. I should be back to normal after a good night's rest, but for now, I have important news to share with you."

"Me too, sir," grinned Harry, as he fished the memory out of his pocket and held it up for Dumbledore to see.

At first, the headmaster appeared stunned and didn't react at all. Then his face split into a wide smile as he leapt to his feet. "You've got it!" the headmaster said excitedly. "Harry, this is spectacular news — and well-timed, if I do say so myself!"

Dumbledore came around the desk and took the jar containing the memory from Harry before crossing the room to the cabinet where the Pensieve was kept.

"And you were right, sir," added Harry, as Dumbledore returned with the familiar stone basin. "According to Slughorn, Riddle mentioned something about a seven-part soul."

"Horace said this?" the professor replied sharply.

"Yes, sir."

Harry thought he saw a flash of something like triumph in the old professor's eyes as he set the Pensieve down on the desk and dumped the contents of the jar into the basin.

"I should like to see it for myself," stated Dumbledore. "Let us review Horace's memory first, and then I shall share my tale with you. The conversation that follows will be much clearer, if the memory does indeed confirm our suspicions."

A few minutes later, Harry and Dumbledore exited the Pensieve and moved to occupy their usual seats.

"So…two Horcruxes left, then?" asked Harry, as he sat down.

"It would certainly appear so," the professor replied contemplatively, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "As I am sure you recall, we are reasonably certain that one of them is Voldemort's snake, Nagini," he continued, "while the other, of course, is Helga Hufflepuff's cup."

"Right," replied Harry, who was sure the anticipation would wind up killing him if Dumbledore didn't hurry up and get to the point.

"The snake presents an interesting conundrum," maintained the headmaster, "as she is rarely seen outside the company of Voldemort himself. The cup, as you correctly hypothesised, was entrusted to Bellatrix Lestrange, and is currently residing in her vault at Gringotts."

Harry's moment of celebration at confirming the location of the Horcrux was short-lived, as his brain caught up with the rest of Dumbledore's words. Gringotts was one of the most secure institutions in all of Britain, if not the world, and being that it belonged to an extremely old and extremely rich wizarding family, the Lestrange vault was likely given the goblins' highest degree of protection. At that moment, Harry couldn't help but recall Hagrid's words to him as they entered the bank on his first trip to Diagon Alley:

"…yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it."

"I see you recognise the challenge we face," said Dumbledore, noting Harry's reaction. "Removing the Horcrux from Gringotts will be no easy task. That said, I choose to be optimistic about our situation. We have eliminated the majority of Tom's Horcruxes and have also identified both the identities and the locations of the remaining two. That is significantly more progress that I ever would have expected by this stage."

"I suppose so, but still…Gringotts…"

"Alas, that is not the only unfortunate news I bring from Azkaban. The dementors have also abandoned their posts and fled the prison."

"They have? Why?" said Harry, frowning at the latest disturbing development.

"To join Lord Voldemort, I presume," Dumbledore replied simply. "They served him during the last war, so it is not surprising that they would join him now."

"The Death Eaters!" Harry suddenly burst out. "Won't it be even easier for Voldemort to break them out again without the dementors there?"

"I should think so," nodded Dumbledore. "Which is why it was fortunate that I happened to be present at the moment of their defection."

"What did you do?"

"At first, I was concerned that Tom was going to turn up then and there," he explained. "When he did not, I quickly sent a communication to Amelia Bones, who sent a detachment of Aurors to guard the prison until further notice. Perhaps more importantly," continued Dumbledore, "she authorised moving the five currently incarcerated Death Eaters to an alternate location."

"So, Voldemort won't be able to free them?" Harry asked hopefully.

"That is indeed our hope. While the new location is not nearly as secure as Azkaban, it carries the distinct advantage of having very few people who are even aware of its existence in the first place."

"That makes sense," said Harry. "I don't care for the idea of Voldemort having an army of dementors, though."

"Nor do I," concurred the professor. "It does lead me to wonder, however, how many of our students have mastered the Patronus Charm," he enquired knowingly, peering intently at Harry over the tops of his glasses.

"More that you might expect, sir," grinned Harry, immediately understanding what the headmaster was getting at. "Easily a dozen, if I had to guess. Plus, this latest news will probably motivate the others to push even harder, so I figure that number could double within a month."

"That is wonderful to hear, Harry," replied Dumbledore, clearly relieved.

A warmth filled Harry's chest at the headmaster's praise, especially knowing that the Hogwarts Underground was better equipped to deal with Death Eaters and dementors than many adult wizards and witches. Between Diagon Alley and the assault on Chateau Lestrange, some of them had already seen a fair bit of action, and Harry had a feeling that was only the beginning. He resolved then and there to redouble his efforts with the group, in hopes that there would never be another Daphne.

In the meantime, there was another pressing issue they needed to resolve.

"So…" Harry began slowly. "How exactly are we going to get the cup out of Gringotts?"

oOoOoOo

The following Wednesday, Harry stepped out of the floo and into the Greengrasses' formal receiving room. It was not the only time he had done so, of course, the first time being the day Daphne had caught him and Astoria returning from Mr. Cartwright's office. The main difference this time was that he had actually been invited by Mr. Greengrass, who was waiting to greet Harry when he arrived.

"Mr. Potter, allow me to welcome you to our home," said the man, as he stepped forward to shake Harry's hand. He was wearing black formal robes similar in style to Harry's, only they had the wider sleeves preferred by many older wizards.

"It's Harry, sir," he reminded him, "and thank you again for allowing me to come."

"Astoria would never have forgiven me if I hadn't," replied Mr. Greengrass, with a strained smile. "She wanted to be here to greet you, of course, but I was hoping to speak with you privately first."

"Of course," nodded Harry, attempting to convince himself there was no reason be nervous.

"I understand that you became friends with my Daphne near the beginning of the current school year, and that the two of you often practiced spells together."

"Yes, sir."

"I admit to being curious how that came to be," said the older man. "Even in my Hogwarts days, a friendship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin was practically unheard of."

"Up until this year, we'd barely interacted," admitted Harry. "Even though we were in the same year, we only met — really met — because of Astoria. For the most part, we only met up to work on spells together, but we were definitely friends. If I learned anything about her during that time, it was that to her, family was more important than anything."

"It was," agreed Mr. Greengrass, shutting his eyes for a moment to gather his composure. "And in your unbiased opinion, just how good was she at magic?"

"She was phenomenal," replied Harry, without even the slightest hesitation. "Daphne was fully dedicated to improving, and by the…the end…she was probably the best duellist in the school."

A look of pride briefly appeared on Mr. Greengrass's face. "You mean the best besides yourself, of course…" he said pointedly.

"I guess so, but I'm not sure that really counts," shrugged Harry. "I'm…different…"

It wasn't really a fair comparison, in his opinion, since he was the only one taking private lessons from Professor Dumbledore. Even so, seeing her in action at Chateau Lestrange only confirmed Harry's belief that Daphne could have easily handled every other student at Hogwarts.

Mr. Greengrass gave Harry a speculative look, almost as if he were evaluating him. "So I hear," he said eventually, fixing his gaze on Harry. "I have also heard that you intend to fight against the Dark Lord."

"I've been fighting him since I was eleven, when I returned to the magical world," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I see," said the older man. Harry could tell that his statement only made Mr. Greengrass want to ask him more questions, but instead, he said something surprising. "In that case, I would like to offer whatever assistance I am able to provide," he revealed. "If there is anything I can do to aid you in your…endeavour, then you need only ask."

Whatever Harry was expecting, a sincere offer to assist in the fight against Voldemort was about as far removed from it as one could get.

"Er — thank you, sir. I'll definitely keep that in mind," he replied haltingly, being totally unprepared to respond to such an unexpected offer.

"Judging by your reaction, I take it you are surprised by my offer?"

"I meant no offence," Harry attempted to explain. "It's just that your daughters — Daphne, in particular — made it clear that your family preferred not to take sides."

Mr. Greengrass nodded his understanding. "Historically, that has been true," he replied, his tone softening. "Right or wrong, for centuries, the Greengrass family has stood for themselves, and themselves alone," he continued, his expression darkening once more. "But that was before they attacked my girls. They kidnapped my daughter because I wouldn't bow down to their demands," growled Mr. Greengrass, and Harry started to interrupt him but was cut off. "Yes, I've been told that she was taken specifically to get to you," he continued, almost dismissing the notion. "Oh, I'm sure Lestrange managed to even convince himself it was his own idea, but believe me, the plan had Malfoy's name written all over it. I am confident that Astoria would not have been targeted otherwise."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't find the words. He appreciated what the man was trying to say, but Harry knew better; no one would ever convince him that Astoria's relationship with him was not at least partially to blame for her being abducted.

"And then they…they killed my Daphne…my firstborn," continued Mr. Greengrass, choking up slightly at the mention of his daughter. "She was taken from me — from us — by those animals," he snarled. "And by one of her own blood, no less! Tell me, Harry — if you were in my place, would you allow those bastards to simply get away with it?"

"Of course not," Harry replied firmly.

"I know you wouldn't, which is why I cannot fault you for running off with Daphne and a gang of schoolchildren to rescue Astoria on your own," lamented Mr. Greengrass, his shoulders drooping as he spoke. "How could I, when I would have done the same in your position?"

Unsure of how to respond, Harry simply nodded and looked down at the ground, and the conversation lapsed into a brief, yet awkward silence until Mr. Greengrass was able to gather himself well enough to complete his train of thought.

"For what it's worth, I knew my daughter well enough to know that Merlin himself could not have stopped her from going with you that day," he sighed. "Daphne was both brilliant and headstrong, and she would never allow others to dictate her decisions — not if she could help it. I tell you this because while I cannot stop you from harbouring guilt over what happened, I want you to understand that it is not necessary to do so."

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry. "I — I really appreciate you saying that."

"As I told you before, at Hogwarts, if I am to use your first name then I insist you call me Elias."

"I'll try to remember."

"See that you do," he replied. "And please consider my offer. I am no warrior, but I shall do everything in my power to see the end of the Dark Lord and his followers, whether it be simple financial backing or supporting you in the Wizengamot. I owe that much to Daphne."

"Actually, sir — er…Elias — there is something you could do in the short term," said Harry, having a sudden stroke of inspiration. "My godfather should be tried before the Wizengamot any day now. It'd be really great if you could help make sure Fudge can't railroad him into a conviction like he tried to do with me over the summer."

"Your godfather?" replied Elias, wearing a puzzled expression. "Who —"

"Sirius Black."

The expression on Elias's face would have been almost comical, if the mood of the day were any less serious. "Sirius Black is your godfather?" he repeated, with a hint of disbelief. "But…does he not serve the Dark Lord? Isn't he the one who —"

"No, Sirius is innocent," Harry corrected him. "Peter Pettigrew was the traitor all along — he's still alive, by the way. I'm sure you'll hear the full story at the trial," he added, in response to Elias's shocked expression. "What's important to know is that Sirius is innocent, and he was sent to Azkaban without a trial. We found out almost two years ago and told Fudge, but he refused to believe us."

"The pure-blooded son of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families sent to Azkaban without trial?" he replied bewilderedly. "That alone should have been a scandal of unthinkable proportions, whether he was guilty or not."

"That's the Ministry for you," shrugged Harry. "There's probably even more you could do to help from that side of things, but honestly, Dumbledore's the one you should probably speak to about that," he admitted. "All I know is that making sure Fudge isn't allowed to keep mucking everything up is probably a good start, and that includes freeing Sirius."

"Very well, then. I will work to see it done; you have my word."

"I appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it," Elias returned sincerely. "And now, I suggest we go find my youngest daughter. She has been having a difficult time, as I'm sure you can imagine, and I am afraid today will be particularly difficult."

"I know," said Harry, as he allowed Elias to escort him out of the receiving room.

"Astoria tells me the two of you became acquainted over the summer?" Elias asked him as they walked.

"She actually wrote to me out of the blue," confirmed Harry, grinning slightly at the memory. For a brief moment, he wondered if they might one day be able to tell him the full story. "She wanted me to know that not everyone believed the rubbish the Daily Prophet was saying about me. We kept in touch from there and quickly became friends, so we decided to meet up on the Hogwarts Express," he explained, sticking to the version most people were familiar with.

"I see. And how long have the two of you been…involved?"

Harry glanced sideways at his girlfriend's father. "Since October," he answered. "Hasn't Astoria told you all this?"

"Not directly," admitted Elias. "It is a difficult topic for a father to broach, and she has likely sensed my discomfort and refrained from offering too many details." Without warning, he stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to Harry. "My daughter is very important to me — now more than ever," he said quietly. "She has a gentle soul, and I would not see her experience any more hurt than she already has in her young life."

Looking into the man's eyes, Harry saw not the threats of an overprotective father, but rather a plea from a grieving parent. "I think we can both agree on that," he returned sincerely, in the same low voice.

"I am glad we understand one another," replied Elias earnestly, before dropping his gaze. "I have come to realise — too late, I'm afraid — just how many mistakes I have made with regard to my girls. I should have spent more time with them when they were young, been home more often…done more to protect them…"

"If it helps," said Harry, after an awkward pause, "Astoria has never doubted that you love her and Daphne."

Elias suddenly looked up. "And this…this is something she has told you?" he asked, somewhat hopefully.

"She did," Harry confirmed.

Elias shut his eyes for a moment and gingerly rubbed his forehead. "It pleases me to hear this, even if feel as though I do not deserve it," he said eventually. "And from this day forward, I shall strive to finally be the father she deserves," he added quietly to himself, before addressing Harry once more. "Come; my daughter awaits."

After another short walk, Harry found himself being ushered into a small parlour on the far side of the house. Standing in the centre of the room was Astoria, wearing a conservative black dress and a small, matching hat with a veil of some sort attached to the front, which came down just over her eyes. Judging by her odd posture, she had been pacing across the room and suddenly stopped when the door opened.

"Harry!" she choked, quickly closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around his neck. He had to move his head slightly to the side to avoid the top of her hat, but otherwise, he gladly returned her embrace. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Of course," he replied soothingly, gently rubbing her back. "You know I wouldn't have missed it."

The sound of Elias clearing his throat reminded them that they were not alone. "We shall begin shortly," he informed them, adding, "Please make your way to the grounds as soon as you are ready," before exiting the parlour and closing the door behind him.

"Have things been any better?" asked Harry.

"About the same," responded Astoria, as she stepped back from him and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. "Father has been distant, but at least he's trying. I still haven't spoken to Mother."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she sniffed. "I spent some time with Flopsy last night…she's taking it pretty hard."

"I can't say I'm surprised — she obviously cares a lot about both of you." Harry looked out the window and caught a glimpse of an older couple — also dressed in black — walking together down a cobblestone pathway leading away from the house. "I suppose we should probably get going," he said. "Your father made it sound like they wanted to start soon."

With a sigh, Astoria grabbed her cloak from the back of a nearby chair and threw it around her shoulders. After a quick glance at the mirror above the fireplace, she slid her arm into the crook of Harry's elbow and allowed him to escort her out into the hallway.

"Father didn't give you too hard a time, did he?"

"Not at all, actually," replied Harry, as they stepped out through the rear entrance of the house and onto the covered patio. "He just wanted to ask me a few questions about Daphne, and to make sure I knew he didn't blame me for what happened. He even offered to help with the war."

"He did?"

Harry nodded without offering further explanation, so Astoria turned her gaze forward and stared contemplatively ahead for a while. After a bit more walking, their feet found the same cobblestone path Harry had seen the older couple using, which he soon found out led to the Greengrass family cemetery.

"Are you expecting many people?"

"I don't think so. A couple dozen, perhaps? It's mainly relatives and a few close friends of the family. You're the only one from Hogwarts who was invited, and Father refused to allow anyone from the Travers family to attend."

"Can't say I blame him," replied Harry, with some steel in his voice.

"No," agreed Astoria. After a few more steps, she released a deep breath and added, "I think he might be finished with my mother."

Harry turned to look at her, though her eyes remained fixed straight ahead.

"What do you mean?"

"He told me that after the funeral, Mother will be going to the continent for a while — by herself," she explained. "Supposedly it's so she can mourn in peace without having to be constantly reminded of Daphne, but I think he just can't stand to look at her anymore, so he's sending her away."

"Wow," breathed Harry, unsure of what else to say. "So, how do you feel about that?"

"I've no idea, really," she sighed, after taking a moment to think. "To be honest, for the past few days I haven't felt much of anything at all."

Harry reached over with his free hand and patted the top of Astoria's. It was the first time anyone close to him had died — not counting his parents, of course, being that he was too young to remember — and he had been struggling with knowing what to do or how to act. He wanted to say something to make Astoria feel better, but whatever he came up with in his head always seemed inadequate.

'Just be there for her' was Hermione's only advice to him. She went on to explain that while it was normal to want to help, there was very little he could actually do besides provide support — so that was what he was going to do.

They eventually came to a limestone wall, which was slightly taller than Harry and surrounded by a low hedge. Set in the centre were a pair of swinging wrought-iron gates, which they passed through to enter the cemetery.

The cemetery itself turned out to be much larger than Harry expected. Littering the expansive, grassy field were dozens of gravestones, and upon the slight hill toward the back of the cemetery were set a series of white marble mausoleums. Harry figured there had to be at least a dozen generations of Greengrasses buried there. He was about to ask Astoria about it when his attention was drawn to the small cluster of people gathered off to their right, where a few rows of white folding chairs had been arranged in front of the site where Daphne would soon be laid to rest.

Having never been to a funeral before — muggle or magical — Harry wasn't sure what to expect, and he definitely wasn't prepared to see Daphne's body laid out in the open on a low stone table, with a burning candle set at each corner. She had been dressed in loose robes made from white linen, with her only adornment a glittering golden necklace set with several large emeralds that sparkled in the morning sunlight. Her hands were folded delicately across her middle, and the way her golden hair was carefully arranged about her shoulders almost made it look as if she had simply laid herself down for a short nap.

Realising they had both stopped in their tracks and that people were beginning to look at them, Harry stepped forward and guided Astoria to the front row of chairs, where there were two empty seats to the left of Mr. Greengrass. To his right was the girls' mother, Penelope, who was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, which also had an attached veil — but unlike Astoria's, hers covered the entirety of her face. She spared the two of them the briefest of glances before wordlessly turning back to the prone form of her eldest daughter.

There was an awkward moment after Astoria had sat down where Harry wasn't sure where he was supposed to go. The empty chair next to his girlfriend seemed like the obvious choice, but still he hesitated, trying to decide whether it was really appropriate for him to be sitting with the family. Fortunately, Astoria had no such qualms and pulled him down into the seat beside hers and laced her fingers with his. Elias gave them a short nod, which allowed Harry to relax a bit while they waited for everyone to finish gathering.

Before long, an old, bearded wizard with long white hair made his way up the aisle between chairs and turned to address the gathered mourners. Again, being unfamiliar with many wizarding customs, Harry was unsure of how typical the sermon was, but he was almost positive that Daphne would have hated being referred to as a 'delicate maiden', whether or not she was actually 'in the flower of her youth'. He even made the mistake of attempting to picture her reaction, which almost made him laugh until he glanced to his right and saw Astoria's miserable expression. One of her hands gripped Harry's like a lifeline, while the other was busy blotting her tears with a handkerchief.

From that point on, Harry mostly tuned out the speech as he allowed his thoughts to wander back to that week over the summer where he, Daphne, and Astoria spent most of their days together in and around the cabin. Looking back, it was easily one of the best weeks of his life — even considering all the pressure he was under at the time — and part of that was undeniably due to how much he enjoyed sparring with Daphne. It was his fault they stopped practicing together at Hogwarts, but Harry always figured that one day he'd be able to make it right. He always thought there would be more time…

Hot tears began spilling down his own cheeks. Astoria noticed and began stroking his hand while leaning into his side, but at that particular moment, Harry didn't feel like he deserved to be comforted. So instead, he forced himself to listen to the white-haired wizard as he continued to ramble on about 'the goodness of mankind'.

Harry had been expecting others to stand up and speak about Daphne, but that turned out not to be the case. Once he had concluded his remarks, the old wizard took out his wand and walked around the stone table while speaking a few unfamiliar incantations. With one final flourish of his wand, there was a blinding flash, and the table Daphne had been laid upon was suddenly enclosed on all sides, turning it into something more like a sarcophagus. At that point, Elias and three other wizards — relatives, Harry assumed — rose from their seats, and together they levitated Daphne's sarcophagus until it was hovering just above the nearby open grave, before gently lowering it into the ground.

That was the breaking point for Astoria. Harry quickly wrapped an arm around his girlfriend as she slumped in her seat and began sobbing uncontrollably. Not faring much better, Elias returned to his seat and buried his face in his hands, while the other three wizards silently filled in the grave using the large pile of dirt sitting off to the side.

With that done, the old wizard who had presided over the ceremony stood before them once again. "The Greengrass family thanks you for your presence on this day of mourning," he announced. "Refreshment will be offered in the main drawing room for any who wish to stay and offer their condolences, or to simply share their fond memories of young Daphne."

Harry and the immediate family remained seated as the guests stood up and slowly began shuffling back towards the house. Mrs. Greengrass rose from her seat a few moments later and stepped up to the gravesite, her expression unreadable. After spending a minute or two staring down at the place where her daughter had just been buried, she wiped her eyes and wordlessly turned to leave, not bothering to wait for the rest of her family. With a heavy sigh, Elias got to his feet and waved his wand in an intricate pattern before him. Almost immediately, shoots of green grass sprung up out of the bare dirt covering Daphne's grave, and within a matter of seconds, the grass had completely filled in and blended seamlessly the surrounding area.

When Elias finally turned around to face them, Harry was struck by how positively broken the man looked. He personally couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose a child, and frankly, he hoped to never find out.

"Astoria…"

Without hesitation, Astoria leapt to her feet and embraced her father. "I'm so sorry," Harry heard her whimper.

"Shh…You've nothing to be sorry for," Elias replied soothingly.

Feeling as though he was intruding on something, Harry avoided looking at the pair in an attempt to give them some semblance of privacy, instead choosing to observe a pair of redwing birds plucking hawthorn berries from a nearby hedge.

"Thank you again for coming, Harry."

He turned to see Elias addressing him with a hand extended, while Astoria stood off to the side. "Of course," returned Harry, as he rose and accepted the man's handshake. "Thank you again for inviting me."

"You are welcome to stay for as long as you like, but you are under no obligation to socialise with the other guests."

"I appreciate that."

Elias gave him a brief nod in response, and with a final glance back at his youngest daughter, he stepped around Harry began making his way back up the pathway. At some point during the brief exchange, Astoria had turned around and resumed staring silently down at her sister's headstone.

"This still doesn't feel real to me," she said quietly, as Harry moved to stand beside her. "Part of me still believes that if I went up and barged into her room right now, she'd be inside waiting to throw pillows at me. It's like…on some level, it feels like nothing's changed, even though I know that nothing will ever be the same."

"I get what you mean," replied Harry. "Have you thought more about…you know…when you might want to call her back?"

"Only every day," she replied with a watery smile, but then her expression grew serious again. "Only I don't think I'm ready yet. If we can only use the Stone once — and I do still agree with you, by the way," she added quickly, "then I want to wait until I'm absolutely sure I'm ready." Astoria looked down at the ground for a moment as she took Harry's hand. "I'd love to be able to tell her that the curse has been broken," she confessed, in a tone barely above a whisper. "I know it could take years, if it even happens at all," she continued, "but I think I'll hold off for at least a while, just in case I do get the chance to tell her."

"I think that's a great idea," agreed Harry, silently promising to make sure that happened — even if it meant using the Stone to summon Daphne a second time. "So, what do you want to do now?" he asked her. "Should we go back up to the house with the others?"

"I'd rather not, to be honest. Wait, I know," she said, her expression brightening slightly. "Let's walk over to the cabin! I've not been down there since the summer, and it might be nice to relive some happy memories."

"That sounds good. Are you sure you won't be too cold?"

"I'll be fine — come on, let's go."

Astoria looped her arm through his, and together they made their way out of the cemetery and began walking along the treeline, which would eventually lead them to the guest cabin where they had spent so much time together.

"I have to ask," said Harry, after they'd been walking for a while. "Was that normal for a wizarding funeral? I mean, it was fine and all, I was just surprised that no one spoke who actually knew Daphne."

"I'm not really sure," she frowned. "I do know that the reception after is where most of the reminiscing happens, but I agree that the ceremony didn't capture much of what made Daphne, Daphne. At least they made her look really pretty," she added, almost as an afterthought. "I was a little surprised when I saw she was wearing our grandmother's necklace, though — Father must've hated doing that."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, not the fact that she was wearing it," clarified Astoria. "It was meant to be hers when she came of age anyway. No, he would have hated having to go down to our vault to get it."

"Gringotts?" he asked, receiving a nod in reply. "Why doesn't he like going? Does he have a problem with goblins, or something?"

"No, he's just deathly afraid of dragons," she replied simply.

Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Wait, dragons?" he repeated, looking at Astoria in disbelief. "You mean that's not just a rumour? There actually are dragons inside of Gringotts?"

"Just the one, as far as I know. It guards the high-security level, where most of the old families have their vaults. At least, that's what Father told me," she explained, setting Harry's mind rapidly into motion. "If it's just gold he needs, the goblins will bring it up for him," she continued, "but for heirlooms and such, you have to actually go down to the vault and retrieve them yourself."

"Wow…and the vaults for the old families are all on the same level?" asked Harry, an idea slowly beginning to take shape. "Even the Lestranges?"

"I can't say for certain, but I would assume so," Astoria replied thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?" she continued, now sounding vaguely suspicious. "You've got that look you get when you're about to do something dangerous…"

Harry laughed in spite of himself and took a quick look around to make sure they were alone. "Come on," he said, pulling her in the direction of the cabin. "There's something I haven't told you yet."