11. Funeral

Harry woke with a start and a scream dying in his throat. His heart was pounding and he was breathing heavily, sweat pouring off his skin like he’d just run a marathon. The sun was about to break over the horizon, it’s reflection bouncing off the bright orange walls of Ron’s room, casting a warm glow over the empty bed on the other side of the room. Just like all the other times Harry had woken that night Bill was sitting next to his bed. Wordlessly Harry took the glass Bill offered him, gulping down a mouthful of the fresh water before sinking back onto his pillow and covering his eyes with one arm. He felt Bill reach out and lay his hand on his shoulder and Harry reached a hand up to Bill’s and grasped it, his heart still pounding from the ghastly nightmare.

Harry heard the door creak open and soft footsteps cross the carpet. There was a clunk as a beaker was placed on the windowsill.

“Your muzzer, she has finished ze potion,” he heard Fleur whisper and then the sound of her kissing Bill softly. “Try and get ‘im to drink eet. We ‘ave ‘eard ‘ow often ‘e is waking up.” Her footsteps receded and the door shut behind her with a soft click.

“Harry,” said Bill, “talk to me.” Harry had not said a word to anyone since arriving at the Burrow the night before. The wards had held well during the time the Weasleys had been away and apart from a thick layer of dust all was in order, including the expulsion of the ghoul from Ron’s room, which Mr Weasley had managed the morning before on his brief visit. Ron and Bill had led Harry up the stairs and into a pair of pyjamas and then into bed in Ron’s room but Harry had been unable to sleep for longer than an hour without being woken by nightmares filled with red glowing eyes and flashes of green light, he was falling and dying over and over again. And when the light wasn’t coming towards him he watched as one by one those he loved fell to the green flashes. It was like going to sleep and running into one giant Boggart. Mrs Weasley had started making a Dreamless Sleep potion after Harry woke the fourth time a little after midnight.

“I’m worried about you,” Bill tried again. “Please, talk to me.” Harry removed the arm from across his face and looked up at Bill.

“I’m terrified,” he whispered, turning away to look at the wall. “All the time. Well not every single minute but a lot. I was terrified of George. He hexed me and I was afraid of him after that. When I ran into the business end of Charlie’s wand that day in the Entrance Hall I started to panic and then I started seeing green lights. Every time I close my eyes to sleep I see green flashes of light and Voldemort’s eyes. It’s been getting worse. Sometimes when people talk about the war I’ve been getting the shakes or reliving the times when I’ve seen someone killed. Reliving the times Voldemort tried to kill me. I panicked when I saw the green sparklers. I couldn’t help it.” Harry turned back to Bill. “I think I’m going mad.”

“You’re not going mad, Harry. It’s just panic attacks. A normal reaction to everything you’ve been through I’d say,” Bill paused. “It happened to a mate of mine in Egypt. He got trapped in a tomb once when things went a bit wrong and he was dead scared of small spaces after that, couldn’t go into tombs. The thought made him hyperventilate.

“I’ve been watching you the past couple of days. You hide it well but I could see you shaking and your eyes glazing in panic, I just couldn’t figure out what was panicking you. And you go about telling everyone you are fine. They believe you when you say that, you know. Except Hermione I think she was figuring it out too. Don’t cover it up, let us help. If you’re feeling panicky tell us, we can help. Promise me, Harry.” Bill’s eyes were full of concern and they pleaded with Harry to trust him.

“But who’s going to be here? You all live or work someplace else. And I can’t expect your mum and Ginny to deal with me if I am going to panic about every little thing every five minutes,” Harry’s breathing quickened as he continued. “I don’t know what’s going to happen and everybody has got their lives to go back to but I don’t have any place to be and I can’t even go five minutes talking without –“ he broke off panting, gasping, trying to catch his breath. Bill gripped his shoulders and told him to breathe.

“No one’s going anywhere right now,” he said firmly. “You have a place to be – here. We are all here and we are all staying together as a family. We need each other right now and that includes you, kid.” Bill pulled Harry into a rough hug before pushing him back onto the pillow and drawing his covers up. “Now, you are going to drink this potion and get some proper sleep.” Harry choked the potion down with Bill smoothing a hand through his hair as tenderly as if he were Mrs Weasley.

“ ’Mnot a kid,” mumbled Harry sleepily, “ ‘m nearly eighteen, ‘m all grownp.” Harry’s breathing evened out and he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

************************

The sun was streaming through the window when Harry woke again. The clock said it was almost midday but he could smell one of Mrs Weasley’s delicious breakfasts wafting up to the little room beneath the attic. Harry was hungry. He swung out of bed and padded his way downstairs. The Weasleys and Hermione were sitting around the kitchen table eating and talking quietly. Ron looked up from his enormous plate of sausages and bacon to spear a kipper from the middle of the table and saw Harry standing there.

“Morning Harry!” he cried. Several heads whipped around and Ginny scrambled from her chair and ran to pull him into a hug which Harry returned enthusiastically.

“Come and have some breakfast before Ron eats it all,” she said pulling him over to sit into the chair between her and Bill.

“It’s a bit late for breakfast, isn’t it?” Harry asked as she and Mrs Weasley began piling his plate high.

“Yes, well we only just got up, we didn’t get much sleep last night,” Mr Weasley said kindly. Harry looked down at his hands.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He felt Bill’s hand on his arm and looked up at the older man.

“It’s okay, Harry, remember what I said,” Bill said. Ron cocked his head to one side.

“What did you say?” he demanded. Bill resumed eating, swallowing a bite of toast before answering.

“He’s family,” said Bill simply. After a pause he added, “Awfully polite chap though. Say Harry, reckon you could teach that to Ron?” Ron glowered and Charlie sniggered.

“Well as I’ve been unable to influence Ron, or indeed any of you in that direction all these years, I don’t like his chances,” Percy said as he primly cut his sausages into small bite sized pieces.

“Au contraire Percy old chap!” exclaimed George. “I’ve learnt a lot from you and your example has influenced me no end my lad!” Percy shot him an icy look.

“I’m polite,” Charlie protested. “Have to be when trying to impress the ladies.” He puffed his chest out. Fleur scoffed.

“Eet ees not politeness that ees attractive to women!”

“Really?” said George, leaning forward. “What’s the secret then?”

“Charm, charisma, joie de vivre,” winked Bill. “That and a generous p-“

“William Arthur!” hissed his mother. Charlie sniggered and Fleur blushed.

“-urse,” finished Bill innocently.

“Being polite has always worked with Penelope,” Percy said, his nose in the air. Harry suppressed a snort with great difficulty as he saw Charlie, George and Ron all seize that piece of information.

“Penelope, huh? How about you tell us about Penelope, Perce?” said George with an evil gleam in his eye. Ron began singing a rather childish ditty about love and marriage under his breath that Harry once thought he’d heard a version of on a television show that Dudley was particularly fond of.

“Yes,” said Charlie, “have you shown her your generous purse yet?” Percy looked at Charlie with disdain.

“Our relationship is suitably proper according to those who are not yet married,” he said primly.

“They’re not talking about money, are they?” Ginny said under her breath to Hermione as both girls giggled uncontrollably. Mrs Weasley shot a disapproving look at Bill.

“So, it’s not the size of your purse then, Bill? It’s how generous you are about it?” asked George with a wink. Fleur went as red as any Weasley and Charlie went purple with the effort of trying not to laugh. Ron, who had obviously completely missed the double entendre, chose that moment to add his thoughts to the conversation.

“Well, if that’s all it takes then Ginny’s in luck because I’ve seen Harry’s. It’s sizable and he’s generous to a fault.” Harry and Ginny collectively sprayed their pumpkin juice clear across the table.

“Well, at least Ginny hasn’t seen it yet,” Charlie glared at Harry menacingly.

“Bollocks! Course she has!” scoffed Ron, his mother glared at him and Hermione muttered something about his appalling language. Harry began to choke on the bacon he just put in his mouth.

“She has not!” he wheezed.

“Yes I have Harry,” said Ginny breezily. “Don’t you remember?”

“It’s a bit of a worry if a bloke can’t remember that,” muttered George, a scowl on his face.

“Right before I went to Hogwarts, we had a look down there,” she said brightly her face gleaming with barely suppressed mischief. Harry just looked at her in horror. He could see Hermione behind her, a hand stuffed in her mouth to prevent her bursting into loud, uncontrollable laughter. Ron was nodding along, his mouth full of his tenth sausage and Bill, Charlie, Percy and George were looking at Harry in a way that made his blood run cold. Harry appealed to Hermione with his eyes.

“Well at least she’s only seen it that once and you’re the only one who has access so we can be sure it hasn’t happened again. It’s a pity I haven’t had the chance to see it. I’d love to see your family jewels.”

“You. Are. Not. Helping,” Harry ground out but Bill now shook with silent laughter and George and Charlie stared at Hermione with unconcealed glee. Percy looked as though he was trying to disapprove. Ron swallowed the last of his breakfast.

“Oh give it up Harry, we’re all big enough to deal with the size of it, we’re all grownups here,” he said. “You’ve probably got some really brilliant family jewels stashed in there.” Harry simply groaned and, pushing his plate to one side, put his forehead down and began banging his head lightly on the tabletop.

“Oh, I’d like to see those!” said Ginny, collapsing into uncontrollable giggles, Hermione following suit.

“So it’s okay with you if Harry shows Ginny his family jewels, Ron?” asked Bill, his eyes now twinkling with unconcealed mirth.

“Really Bill –“ began Mrs Weasley. But Ron interrupted her.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging. “He should probably wait a while before he gives her any though. They’ve not been going out for long. I mean, I used to have a problem with his generosity but I like to think I’ve matured a bit since then.” That was enough to make Charlie and George lose control completely and they began howling with laughter. Ron looked at them as if they were daft before he turned to Harry, concern on his face.

“Say Harry, you think the goblins will let you back in to it, after the, er, mess we made of Gringotts?”

“Oh, you are talking about my vault,” said Harry weakly.

“Yeah, what did you think I was talking about? Where else would your family jewels be – oh,” Ron went scarlet.

“And there it is,” said George in an undertone that was quite clearly meant to be heard.

“That’s enough, boys,” said Mr Weasley failing completely to hide his mirth despite Mrs Weasely’s glare. “Let’s organise what we have to do today. Who’s going to Muriel’s to collect our things and who’s going to help your mother straighten things up around here?”

******************

Mrs Weasley soon had Fleur, Ginny and Hermione helping her dust, change bed linens and tidy the kitchen. She packed Ron and Harry off to the chicken shed to clean it out for when Percy and Charlie brought the chickens back from Muriel’s. Bill apparated to Shell Cottage to collect some things for himself and Fleur and Mr Weasley and George headed back to Hogwarts to bring Fred home. The funeral would be the day after tomorrow and the sobering thought considerably dampened the enthusiasm anyone felt for the various tasks they were allocated.

Harry himself was completely distracted by thoughts of other funerals and quickly excused himself to send a letter to Andromeda. First he quickly dashed one off to Kingsley asking for the details of Snape’s funeral. He had then finished writing a letter, asking as delicately as he’d been able, about funeral arrangements for Tonks and Remus, when he realised he had no owl to send them anyway. He didn’t know if Remus had anything organised for his funeral arrangements but he knew he didn’t want Andromeda to have to arrange it alone.

Harry traipsed down the stairs mulling over his owl problem when he heard Charlie and Percy in the kitchen. There was a great thump and a clang before something scraped across the floor.

“This bird is a menace!” he heard Charlie say. “It’s safer to be around dragons!”

“I expect Muriel kept him locked up the last few days,” replied Percy. “Poor little thing needs some exercise. Where’s Ron? He should look after his owl now he’s back.”

Pigwidgeon, thought Harry and he raced into the kitchen to see Percy holding, in one hand, a small cage with a tiny puffball in it, that was obviously Ginny’s pygmy puff, and a spitting hissing covered carrier basket, that was clearly Crookshanks, in the other. Charlie was struggling with three cages of chickens, several trunks and Pig, fluttering about madly in his cage.

“Here, let me take Pig,” said Harry. “I’ve got letters for him.” Charlie handed the bird over gratefully and Harry made his way up to Ron’s room to stow the cage and release Pig with his letters. He bumped into Ginny on the third landing.

“Oh, are Charlie and Percy back?”

“Yeah they’ve got Arnold and the trunks in the kitchen,” Harry answered. He made no move to continue up the staircase though, he simply looked at Ginny. She returned his gaze, her eyes flickering downwards briefly as she licked her lips. As Harry stood on the staircase he realised that they hadn’t actually been alone in quite some time and he took a step towards her. Pig fluttered in his cage much like Harry’s heart was fluttering against his ribcage. He reached out and captured her hand in his own, pulling her towards him.

Ginny looked up at him, her lips slightly parted and Harry felt his pulse quicken. And then his lips were on hers and Pig was unceremoniously dumped on a step so Harry could bury one hand in her hair while the other found the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. He felt her small hands slide up his shoulders and around the back of his neck before she slid one down his spine to rest lightly on his left hip as he opened his mouth, his tongue seeking entrance to hers.

The landing was small and a little cramped, it didn’t take much for Harry to find himself pressed against the wall, one small hand creeping up his chest and the other running softly through his hair while his own hands found the gap between Ginny’s T shirt and shorts, tracing small circles on her bare skin. Then Harry heard heavy footfalls on the steps below and he pulled away from her, pulling her shirt back down and kissing her lightly on the nose.

“Come on,” he whispered, grabbing Ginny’s hand in one of his own and Pig’s cage in the other, swiftly dragging them both upstairs to Ron’s room where he quickly tied his letter to Pig’s leg and opened the window for the tiny owl to speed off before turning back to Ginny whose lips were still swollen and her face flushed from the heady kiss they had shared on the landing.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly as he reached out a hand to caress her cheek. His other arm snaked out to pull her close to him. “I love you.” He murmured against her lips as he covered her mouth with his own.

Harry had no idea how long they stood there, locked in that embrace, sharing a kiss that made his spine tingle and all his worries fade away. He was, however, sorry that it had to come to end when Ron burst in, the door slamming open with a resounding crash.

“Don’t do that in my room,” Ron groaned.

“Then stop snogging Hermione in mine!” Ginny retorted loudly. “It wasn’t a pretty sight this morning let me tell you!”

“Oh and you think what I just saw paints a picture I want to see?”

“Ronald! Ginevra!” came screeching up the stairs and both Weasleys blanched. Mrs Weasley’s voice was not at all reassuring. “Stop that bickering and get yourselves down here now! And find Harry!” The three of them made straight for the stairs Ron muttering that he’d found Harry alright. As Ron clattered loudly down the stairs, Harry on his heels, Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand, stopping his descent. He turned enquiringly to her to find her looking at him tenderly.

“I love you too,” she whispered. Harry closed the gap between them swiftly as he pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss sweet and tender until it was broken by Ron’s voice drifting back to them.

“Oi! Don’t do it on my landing either!”

The three of them clattered down the stairs and found a trembling Mrs Weasley in the kitchen.

“Your father firecalled,” she murmured, staring into the fireplace. “George has had some sort of breakdown. They are going to be a while longer. Madam Pomfrey is still watching him.” Suddenly she stood up and headed for the living room. Ron jumped out of the doorway as she headed through it determinedly.

“Mum-”

“Not now Ronald,” his mother cut him off briskly. She picked up a feather duster that was lying on one of the bookshelves. “I need to clean up so that we have somewhere nice to put … to put Fred.” She began to dust frantically and rather than cleaning effectively she created clouds of dust. Ginny pulled Ron aside and spoke to him in a whisper.

“What is she doing?” Ginny asked. “She never dusts with a duster, she uses her wand, the duster is for the underage serfs like me!”

“I dunno, Ginny,” shrugged Ron. “But yeah it is a bit odd.” The two of them and Harry watched as Mrs Weasley continued to chatter incessantly and flick dust around the room.

“I do hope George is going to be alright,” she said. “Arthur didn’t tell me what exactly was wrong with him. Of course I’m not sure he knew, but he could have asked Madam Pomfrey. I hope it’s not serious. Do you think it will be serious Ronald?” She turned on him so quickly that Ron actually took a step backwards.

“I dunno, Mum,” he said and opened his mouth to say more but was cut off.

“Charlie and Percy went back to Muriel’s,” she burst out. “They have to clean up the room Fr-Fred and George were using. Those boys left a cauldron running! Just wait until I …”

Mrs Weasley began to wave the duster more erratically. Ginny ran out of the room mumbling something about getting Fleur. Ron and Harry stood helplessly in the sitting room doorway watching Mrs Weasley wield her duster fiercely.

“Mum?” started Ron tentatively. Mrs Weasley shook violently and half the pictures on the mantelpiece that she was dusting fell with a crash to the floor. Mrs Weasley stood, staring at the pictures, their glass faces lying cracked on the floor, a picture of two identical cherubic red headed babies laughing up at her. She sank to her knees amidst the shattered glass, reaching out to pick up the picture of the laughing babies.

The glass hanging from the frame sliced into her skin, but she didn’t seem to notice and the blood dripped from her hand sinking into the threadbare carpet, mingling with the swirls and loops already woven into the faded pattern. Ron crossed the floor in two short strides, kneeling with his mother in the glass fragments.

“I’ll, I’ll get something for that cut,” Harry stammered. He hurried into the kitchen and found Ginny, Fleur and Hermione quickly making a pot of tea.

“Bandages,” he blurted at Ginny. “Your mum cut herself.” Ginny blanched and hurried to collect a box from a shelf before hurrying into the sitting room with Hermione on her heels.

“I wish Beel would ‘urry up and come back,” Fleur said wistfully, staring at the fireplace as if she could make him magically Floo in.

“Why don’t you take that in to the living room? I’ll firecall him, let him know mum needs him,” said Harry. Fleur nodded, gathering the tea things and stepping quietly into the living room. Harry swiftly knelt at the hearth and stuck his head in.

“Bill! You’ve got to come home!” he called frantically. Harry could hear his footsteps hurrying in from the other room.

“What’s wrong Harry?”

“Your mum,” said Harry. “She’s … sort of had a turn.”

Bill swore and promised he’d be only a few minutes longer. Harry withdrew his head from the fireplace and went back to the living room where he found Ron and his mother still kneeling in the ruins of the photograph frames while Hermione and Fleur tried to convince Mrs Weasley to come and sit where they could clean and bandage her cut. Ginny was standing shaking and watching her mother cry silently, Mrs Weasley’s tears mingling with the blood still dripping to the floor. His heart breaking, Harry enveloped Ginny in a hug as Ron managed to coax his mother to her feet, still clutching the broken picture frame that held a picture of laughing twin babies. By the time Bill came racing into the room Hermione had repaired the picture frames and was putting them back on the mantelpiece, Fleur had cleaned and bandaged the cut and Ron had removed all the shards of glass from the picture frame Mrs Weasley still clung to.

Mrs Weasley was now sitting next to Ron on the couch staring at the picture, tears still slipping slowly down her cheeks and the front of Harry’s shirt was wet with Ginny’s tears. Bill knelt in front of his mother, putting a hand over hers.

“Mum?” he whispered. Mrs Weasley did not look up.

“I need your father,” she said.

“I’ll go,” said Ron. “I’ll send dad back. I’ll bring George and F-Fred home.” Mrs Weasley patted his knee.

“You’re a good boy, Ronald,” she said softly. Ron got up and Hermione went to follow him but Ron shook his head.

“Please,” he said, “please stay with them.” He indicated Fleur standing helplessly next to the tea service, Ginny sobbing in Harry’s arms and Bill still kneeling motionless in front of their mother who had not stopped staring at the picture of Fred and George as babies. Harry met Hermione’s eyes over the top of Ginny’s head and he knew that they were both aware that someone needed to hold things together right now, and it wasn’t going to be a Weasley.

Hermione gave Ron a swift hug and kissed his cheek as he left to go to Hogwarts and then began to straighten out the living room, pushing Fleur into a chair and handing out cups of tea. The crash of the kitchen door as it opened shattered the stillness of the now sparkling living room where Mrs Weasley still stared, motionless, at the laughing babies and Ginny was sniffing away the last of her tears as Harry stroked her hair. Mr Weasley soon came rushing in looking extremely haggard and gathered his wife in his arms as she unleashed a fresh wave of tears. This seemed to set Ginny off again who flew at her parents and they gathered her in, Mr Weasley rocking both of them as his own tears dripped down the end of his nose, reminding Harry painfully of Ron at Dumbledore’s funeral a year previously.

Hermione looked helplessly at Harry as Bill simply moved to Fleur, now that his vigil over his mother was no longer necessary and Harry watched as he laid his head in his wife’s lap seeking her comfort. A crash and an oath from the kitchen startled him out of his reverie and he and Hermione dashed into the kitchen to see Percy and Charlie in a heap on the floor having just come through the Floo – a cloud of ash and dust rising from their robes.

“You prat! Why on earth would you jump in before I’d cleared out?” Charlie said angrily. “I reckon you’ve broken my foot with your great hefty feet!”

“Well it isn’t my fault Muriel went spare when we couldn’t stop that swamp box! She practically shoved me on top of you, screaming at me,” Percy bellowed back. “Now move out of the way she’s going to shove everything else through any minute do you want to be in the way when she manages it?” They were too late. An avalanche of WWW products came tumbling out of the kitchen fireplace as Bill and Mr Weasley burst in the door, stumbling into Harry and sending him careening into the kitchen table. Charlie and Percy lay buried under boxes of Skiving Snackboxes, WonderWitch products and Patented Daydream Charms and the ash from the fireplace rose ever higher in the chaos.

It seemed to Harry that things couldn’t get any worse when he saw a silver panther drop gracefully through the kitchen ceiling and perch on the teetering pile of boxes to say, in Kingsley’s voice,

“Arthur, I sent your boys home in a Ministry car. They’ll be there any minute.” The last time Harry had seen Kingsley’s Patronus at The Burrow it signaled a Death Eater attack and between being winded after crashing into the Weasley’s kitchen table and fighting down a surge of panic at the memory of the attack Harry’s composure was lost. He sank to the kitchen floor gasping desperately for air just as the kitchen door swung open to reveal Ron silhouetted against the afternoon light.

The panther dissipated and Percy and Charlie scrambled to their feet as one final box came flying through the kitchen fireplace, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding splat and burst open splattering the kitchen’s occupants with its contents and rapidly filling the kitchen with an oozing green swamp.

“Oh great,” muttered Percy. “We couldn’t fix the one in Muriel’s second best bedroom and now there’s one in mum’s kitchen!”

“Well, you had to go and have a poke about in the boxes didn’t you!” spat Charlie. “I bet she hurled that one through on purpose!” Harry was still trying to calm his racing heart and regulate his breathing but Bill saw his battle and was by Harry’s side in one huge step, helping him focus and breathe while the swamp slowly oozed over the sink and into the scullery.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Ron.

“Language, Ronald!” scolded Hermione.

“How are we going to fix this before mum finds it?” hissed Percy.

“Finds what?” asked Mrs Weasley who was looking decidedly more composed, although her eyes were red rimmed, now standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong with Harry?” Harry felt six pairs of eyes swing towards him as he fought down another wave of fear and began to control his breathing.

“Kingsley’s Patronus,” muttered Bill. “He’s alright, it was a short attack.” Harry closed his eyes, obviously they all knew about his panic attacks because no one asked for clarification. Suddenly Harry heard a snort of laughter coming from the direction of the back door and opened his eyes to find George, looking somewhat pale, doubled over with mirth.

“George?” asked Mr Weasley hesitantly, “are you alright?” George straightened up.

“Yeah, dad, I am,” he replied. “Seeing Perce and Charlie covered in soot and green ooze it’s just like old times. You guys sure know how to cheer a bloke up.” A blob of green slime hung precariously from Percy’s nose as he straightened up and puffed out his chest as if personally responsible for George’s cheery façade. The blob of green slime fell to the floor and made a sucking sound on the floor as it took root and began to transform the hearth into a swamp. The sight of a soot covered Percy standing officiously in front of the kitchen fireplace, up to his ankles in a swamp, with bits of green slime still clinging to his hair and coating his glasses was so absurdly funny that soon the occupants of the kitchen were all laughing.

Ginny and Fleur came in to see what was causing the laughter and Ginny found it particularly funny.

“Oh, if Fred could see you now,” she wheezed. “He once told me that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to swamp you, Percy.”

“Yes, no doubt,” said Percy drily. “He obviously waited for that opportunity. We are treated to this spectacle, courtesy of Fred, who wrote in big letters on a box, ‘Dear Percy, Don’t open this box, Love Fred’. I, of course, am apparently unable to resist such a message.” Percy appeared to be looking disdainfully at himself, if that was at all possible, as he attempted to wipe his hands on his filthy robes.

“Well, I’ll be,” said George wonderingly. “He won the bet. Ten Galleons I said you’d ignore that message if you ever came across it.”

“Eet would appear, Percy, as eef you are Fred’s last prank, non?” giggled Fleur.

“Couldn’t happen to a better bloke, old chap!” cried George. Percy just shook his head muttering that mashed parsnips were preferable.

“Yes, well, we can’t eat dinner in a swamp,” Mrs Weasley fussed. “George, dear do you think you could possibly get rid of this, er, product?”

The mood in The Burrow lifted and although bringing Fred home and situating his lifeless body in the living room was not without tears and sadness it felt, to Harry, like certain ghosts had been purged along with the tears that had been shed that afternoon and that rather than Fred’s spectre hanging over them like a dark cloud his memory enveloped them like a familiar blanket, beginning to chase the sorrow out of the dark corners of their souls that they had all tried to cover up and hide.

*********************

The next day was a solemn affair. George spent the day in his room while his father and brothers prepared the site chosen for Fred’s grave near a grove of trees that bordered the garden. Harry had spent another restless night dodging nightmares. Seeing his pale face Mrs Weasley had tucked him into a cozy chair near the kitchen hearth and plied him with hot drinks and soup and Harry was simply too tired to protest. As she fussed over him, keeping herself busy as she tucked a blanket around his shoulders and felt his forehead, Harry reflected that perhaps Professor McGonagall’s admonition to let Molly Weasley mother him had not been for himself, but for her. He let himself be comforted and mothered and found that his nightmares were a little less that night.

The day of Fred’s funeral dawned clear and cloudless. George emerged from his room, resplendent in flamboyant robes of bright purple which clashed splendidly with his hair. His mother looked at him sideways all through breakfast but chose not to say anything at all. The rest of The Burrow’s occupants were attired more sedately in stiff dress robes in muted colours. As they finished the meal Ron turned to Harry,

“I don’t know how I am going stick it out in these robes all day,” he muttered, pulling at his collar.

“Then why are you wearing them, Ron?” George asked pointedly. Ron stammered and stumbled over a hopelessly garbled explanation about propriety and decorum and fear of his mother.

“And you think that Fred possessed either propriety or decorum?” George enquired, and added in an undertone, “I’ll give you healthy fear of the matriarch.” Ron considered this for a moment while George continued.

“Remember what Fred said at Bill’s wedding?” Ron shook his head. “He said that when he got married he wouldn’t be bothering with all the nonsense and we could all wear what we liked. I know he won’t be getting married but…” George trailed off, staring at the fireplace where Harry cold see a small patch of swamp still hidden behind the kindling box that Mrs Weasley clearly hadn’t noticed.

“Right, er, well, I’ll be right back,” Ron said in a rush and bolted out of the kitchen, thundering up the stairs. He emerged a few moments later in a pair of Muggle jeans, his trainers and a blindingly orange T shirt with a cannonball whizzing across the back. George smiled at him and winked. Mrs Weasley sighed, but there was the ghost of a smile on her face.

When the Weasley family gathered out in the yard to greet those who had come to pay their respects and give their condolences they were an eclectic group. Fleur and Hermione had donned sun dresses of fuchsia and cerulean blue and Ginny was wearing a floaty green skirt and a summer blouse. Charlie wore a bright red shirt with a fire breathing dragon roaring on the back and Bill, an extra large fang in his ear, had on his favourite dragonhide jacket, Mr Weasley was in his best Muggle tweed suit and Mrs Weasley was wearing the sparkly midnight blue witches’ hat that Fred and George had given her for Christmas in Harry’s sixth year. Percy was still wearing his navy blue dress robes.

Harry had changed into comfortable jeans and a T shirt and was hanging back near the house as he watched people arrive. The first person to arrive had been a rather giggly witch who had headed straight for him, fawning over him rather embarrassingly and as such he now chose not to be immediately visible to the people who were streaming in The Burrow’s gate. Harry soon spotted a large group of his schoolmates surrounding Ron and George near one of the hedges and made his way over. Ron hadn’t left George’s side all day and they had now been joined by Lee Jordan attired in rather garish robes of salmon pink. The three of them clashed magnificently.

‘Alright, Harry?” asked Neville as he spotted Harry approaching. Harry shrugged. “I mean you left pretty suddenly the other night and – “

“I’m fine Neville,” Harry cut him off abruptly and the other boy swallowed whatever he had been about to say and nodded. Luna floated over to them, clad in voluminous yellow robes, dragging Dean Thomas by the hand.

“Hello, Harry,” she said dreamily. “Have you gotten rid of the Wrackspurts and Nargles yet?”

“Er – “ began Harry, quite used to her odd outbursts, but speechless all the same.

“I’ve never seen an attack quite so bad as that before, I expect it was the effect of them combined. Are you quite sure you are alright now?” Luna pressed.

“I’m fine, thank you, Luna,” Harry managed to say before he was suddenly engulfed by a pair of arms swathed in massive black robes, an enormous black feather swung in his face, tickling his nose mercilessly. He was ruthlessly pushed away by the arms and inspected fiercely by none other than Auntie Muriel. Harry caught Ginny’s eye over Muriel’s shoulder and Ginny was looking at him apologetically and mouthing sorry at him.

“So, Ronald, you weren’t boasting at all were you. Seems you do know him,” she eyed Harry critically. “Harry Potter, my you are quite a bit skinnier than I thought you’d be. Hmmm your eyesight’s obviously not much to write home about, dreadfully thick lenses there.” Harry tried desperately to keep a straight face as he caught Ginny collapsing with laughter, Ron turning puce with the effort of holding in his hilarity and Neville staring agog at the back of Auntie Muriel’s head.

“Not to worry!” Muriel boomed as she pulled him back into a suffocating hug and patting him forcefully on the back. “Obviously one can overlook these flaws, you dear, dear boy.” And Muriel burst into loud tears, squeezing Harry so tight that he thought he was going to pass out, and between sobs endlessly pontificating about the incomparable service he had done the wizarding world and that he was to be esteemed among all men for his outstanding courage. She eventually released him before turning to George and patting him forcefully on the head muttering about his ears and then she rounded on Ginny who backed away.

“Ginevra, have you found yourself a beau yet? I can recommend several decent young men that you can correspond with during your final year of education, if you insist on returning of course,” said Muriel loudly, catching the attention of Ginny’s parents. “You’ll have several suitors lined up for your parents to choose from when you finish then. Wouldn’t do to leave you on the shelf!” Ginny rolled her eyes discreetly and Mr Weasley and Mrs Weasley hurried over.

“Ah, Muriel, wonderful to see you, wonderful,” began Mr Weasley and Muriel turned to him, looking him up and down.

“Arthur,” she barked, “one does not say it is wonderful to see one at a funeral. Have you selected any beaux for Ginevra yet? There’s a rather wonderful young man I was sorry I didn’t get to introduce her to before she ran off with her brothers a couple of days ago, perhaps I could bring him around, you know, get things started.” She winked conspiratorially at Mr Weasley.

“That’s very sweet of you, Auntie Muriel,” said Mrs Weasley breathlessly. “We do, er, that is to say, ah, Ginny is, well – “

“What mum means to say,” said George, “is that young Ginny here is currently being, ah, courted, yes courted, by a young man of um exceptional breeding and it is going to be entirely her choice if, well, she lets him, sort of, well that is to say…” George trailed off looking imploringly at Ron and Harry as if begging them to say something.

“He makes me sound like a stud animal,” muttered Harry under his breath to Ron who snorted indelicately.

“It’s fine, thank you, Auntie Muriel,” said Ginny. “As George said just now, I do currently have a boyfriend.”

“Yes, yes,” Muriel waved her hand dismissively. “I suppose he’s some ruffian of no account without name or family, or money for that matter. Boyfriends don’t get you married though. Proper suitors chosen by your elders and betters are what you need. Molly, I do hope you are not encouraging this flight of fancy?” Mrs Weasley stiffened.

“As a matter of fact, Muriel,” she said, “Arthur and I are quite pleased with Ginevra’s choice and she certainly doesn’t need our interference in the affairs of her heart. Perhaps this conversation could be had at a more suitable time.”

“No, no, let’s continue,” said George cheekily. “No better time like the present, would someone care to introduce Auntie Muriel here to young Ginevra’s Romeo?”

“Oh, he’s here is he?” Muriel peered at the assembled crowd which included, at the forefront, a salmon pink and dreadlocked Lee, a pale and trembling Neville and a rather scruffy looking Seamus Finnegan. “Well, which of you degenerates is it?” Harry glared at George before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me,” he said quietly. Auntie Muriel’s resulting astonishment rendered her speechless, and possibly gasping for air, and Mr and Mrs Weasley were able to pull her away and sit her down ready to begin proceedings.

“Priceless, Harry, priceless,” said George thumping Harry on the back. “Come on, let’s get this party started.”

People were slowly seating themselves at the graveside as George headed into the house, followed by his brothers. Harry went over to Ginny as the group surrounding them went to take their seats.

“How are you doing?” he asked her softly as he put his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him.

“I’m okay,” she answered. “I’m sorry about Auntie Muriel, she sort of spotted you and swept over here like a giant vulture before I could stop her.” Harry smiled at her as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“That’s okay, I have to get used to people wanting a piece of me,” said Harry. “But I promise that there’s always one piece of me that’s only for you. This piece here.” And Harry put her hand over his heart as he bent to kiss her lightly.

“You’d better get inside, they’ll be waiting for you,” said Ginny, smiling and just a little flushed. Harry looked at her, confused.

“No, we need to go and sit down so they can start,” he said.

“Oh, goodness, no one told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh Merlin,” Ginny seemed flustered. She seemed to cast her eyes wildly about as if looking for a way to avoid what she was about to say. Finally she forced out, “the coffin, it needs six pallbearers.” Harry paled.

“Oh.”

“You’re supposed to be one of them, didn’t any of those idiots say anything?” Harry shook his head. At that moment Ron stuck his head out of The Burrow’s back door.

“Oi! Potter!” he yelled. Ginny gave him a little push in the direction of the house and Harry slowly walked over to Ron.

“What are you waiting for?” Ron demanded.

“Well, someone to tell me I was supposed to be in there,” Harry shot back.

“Weren’t you listening last night when dad said ‘you boys, his brothers, will be the pallbearers’?” Ron grabbed Harry by one arm and hauled him through the house and into the living room where four red headed men were gathered around Fred’s open coffin.

“I didn’t know that meant me,” whispered Harry.

“You’re daft,” grumbled Ron. Both of them stopped to watch as George reached out and placed something in the coffin that most closely resembled a piece of string and Harry realised it was an Extendable Ear. George sighed heavily and a lone tear dripped down his face and into the coffin.

“Goodbye, Fred,” he whispered. “I promise that I will keep getting up to no good.” And George lowered the lid of the coffin, wiping his face with the back of his hand and turned to face his brothers. “Let’s go then.”

Harry was sure that none of their faces were dry as they carried Fred slowly up the aisle between the chairs set out facing the grave. When they arrived at the front the tufty haired little man again stood waiting to begin and Bill levitated the coffin above the freshly dug grave. It hung there as if suspended on invisible gossamer threads as they took seats next to Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny in the front row. As he sat next to her Ginny turned to him, tears spilling down her cheeks and he simply gathered her into his arms and held her while she cried, their tears mingling, as the little tufty haired man in stiff black robes began to address the assembled crowd.

Harry hadn’t been to many funerals but he was fairly certain that most funerals were not like Fred’s. He was fairly certain that at most funerals the somber officiator dressed in black was not interrupted by a loud red head proclaiming that none of all those fancy words meant anything. He was fairly certain that most funerals did not involve an emotional young man dressed in bright purple recounting all the finest exploits of the one whose life they were honouring and celebrating that day. He was fairly certain that most funerals did not involve playing loud Muggle rock music as the coffin was lowered either.

Harry felt he rather preferred a funeral that was not like most others were.

Later that day, after all the mourners had gone home and the family sat limply inside while Hermione and Mr and Mrs Diggory cleaned up the kitchen Harry slipped outside, looking for George who had not been seen in the last hour. Harry found him, kneeling in front of the fresh mound of earth under which Fred lay, tracing the letters on Fred’s headstone with his fingers.

“It’s not much is it, to show for a life,” said George quietly. “Your name and your birth and death date.” Harry knelt down beside George and looked at the white stone monument that had been placed at the head of Fred’s grave.

<c>FRED WEASLEY

1 April 1978 – 29 May 1998</c>

Harry thought of the words he had inscribed on Dobby’s headstone and the phrase that was on his parents’.

“You want to add something to it,” he said quietly. “Something that tells you about Fred and what he did with his life.” Harry remembered George’s words as he’d closed the lid on the coffin and he drew his wand. In precise neat lettering he etched a final phrase on Fred’s headstone.

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good

***

Two days after Fred’s funeral the Weasley’s gathered at Godric’s Hollow. Andromeda had replied to Harry with the news that Remus and Tonks had not made any sort of funeral arrangements and as she no longer had access to the Black family mausoleum and her husband had been hastily buried in a Muggle churchyard during the war Andromeda was actually entirely unsure what she was going to do. Nor was she sure she would be able to fund it. Harry had Flooed over straight away and convinced Andromeda to let him take care of it. She had been very understanding about Harry’s desire to bury Remus with his own parents and agreed immediately that they should both be laid to rest there.

Harry discovered that he was able to still access his vault (which gave Charlie and George plenty of ammunition to tease Ron, asking him if he’d like to go and have a look at Harry’s family jewels). Harry was entirely unwilling to enter Diagon Alley and be seen in public only one week after the Battle of Hogwarts and not all that keen on trying to go into Gringotts given that the last time he was there he stole their dragon. The benefit of sending Bill was made clear when he returned and revealed he and Fleur were both still gainfully employed. Harry left the funeral service arrangements to Andromeda and arranged payment for the graves, headstones and caskets. It was a lot to do in one day but his name made it very easy indeed.

Kingsley sent Harry back a short note that unless a relative claimed Snape’s body it would be up to the Ministry to arrange his burial. There was a month in which his relatives could claim him, after that it was up to the Ministry. Kinglsey also ensured that they were concealed from the press during Remus and Tonks’s funeral and sent Ministry cars with dark windows for the day. A few well placed Confundus charms and a couple of burly Aurors ensured safe passage into the graveyard where a tall, thin wizard that Harry had never seen before conducted a short service. A light breeze ruffled the trees as Harry, Ron, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill carried first Tonks, and then Remus to the new graves that had been dug next to Lily and James. At first Harry stared unseeing as the tall, thin man began to talk but then his eyes drifted towards his parents’ headstone and he read the words inscribed there over and over. Through the previous two days and the whole process of arranging the funerals and arriving at Godric’s Hollow Harry and kept up an emotionless mask, shoving his feelings deep inside, refusing to feel anything. He arranged things mechanically, ate without tasting and it was only in his dreams that he felt anything at all. In the mornings he put his mask back on and wore it without cracking. Now that he was finally standing, for only the second time, in front of his parents’ graves, listening to the accolades for two more lives sacrificed for the love of a baby son, the mask slipped.

Knowing the events that had occurred the last time she and Harry had ventured here alone Hermione had kept very close to Harry. As Harry’s tears began to fall Hermione reached out and grabbed the hand that wasn’t encased in Ginny’s, holding onto it until the tall, thin man had finished talking and the caskets were being lowered. Following the service workers arrived to fill the graves and erect the headstones. Not able to bear watching that but wanting to see the headstones in place Harry contemplated Teddy for a moment, who was cradled in Ginny’s arms, the baby happy and blissfully unaware of how sad this day made everyone else.

“It’s so different seeing this place in the daylight and not covered in snow,” he heard Hermione say to Ginny.

“When exactly were you here?” asked Ginny.

“Christmas Eve,” replied Hermione. “It was beautiful in its own way then but it looks so much different now.” Harry turned towards them.

“Have you ever been here, Ginny?” he suddenly asked. She shook her head and a slight blush rose on her cheeks.

“Wanted to though, didn’t you squirt?” interrupted Charlie.

“Don’t call me squirt!” seethed Ginny and she shot Charlie a glare that Harry knew had nothing to do with being called squirt. Harry had an idea why she blushed.

“Come on!” he said suddenly. “Let’s go see it!” Charlie and Ginny looked at him, puzzled.

“What do you want to see Harry, dear?” Mrs Weasley enquired.

“You’ll see,” Harry’s eyes were alight with mischief and he grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her towards the gate. “Come on!”

“Harry! If you go out there, well, there’s people out there and they’ll see you!” Ginny exclaimed. Harry considered this for a moment.

“Well let’s all go then, including those two,” and he indicated the Aurors standing near the Ministry cars. Harry could see that they all thought he’d finally lost his marbles. He shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine. I want to show you something. It’s cool. Come on!” The Weasleys and Andromeda followed him dubiously and the Aurors brought up the rear and Harry led them out of the gate and emerged into the square where the statue stood.

“Odd how those people are having a look at that big square thing there,” said Ron. “What on earth is it anyway?” Harry grinned.

“Come and see,” he said mysteriously. As they drew closer to the obelisk in the centre of the square Harry watched it transform into the statue and heard the gasps of those around him as it did so.

“It really is there,” muttered Ginny and she wandered towards it wonderingly, Harry, still holding her hand, trailed after her. No one noticed them at first as Ginny stood there gazing up at the statue of Harry and his parents, Teddy blowing bubbles in her arms. Harry slipped an arm around her waist.

“Hey!” said Ron suddenly, loudly. “Harry, you look just like the statue standing there like that!” And suddenly the people in the square turned to look at them.

Harry spent two hours, shaking hands and talking to people. He didn’t mind. The sunshine beat down pleasantly on the little square and birds and insects hovered and buzzed on it’s edges. After Harry thought he had spoken to every possible person in the little square he felt a tug on the edge of his robes. Looking down he saw a little boy with impossibly big blue eyes and curly blonde hair looking up at him solemnly. Harry smiled at the little boy who just stared back at him. Harry squatted down to the boy’s level.

“Hello, my name’s Harry,” he said. “What’s yours?” The little boy just looked at him before suddenly throwing his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry put his arms around the little boy and hugged him back. When he pulled away the little boy smiled shyly at him and scampered off. Harry looked up from where he was still hunkered down near the ground to see Ginny looking at him, a soft smile on her face. Teddy had long since been passed back to his grandmother who had taken him home, so Harry went over to her, gathering her in a hug. Ginny sighed, putting her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. Harry stared after the little boy as he was swung onto his father’s shoulders.

“I want to have kids some day,” Harry said. He smiled down at Ginny as she looked up. “I think mine will have black hair like me, or maybe red. Red haired babies, I’d like that.” And he leaned down and kissed her softly. Their kiss was interrupted by George and Ron.

“Er, things are finished up mate,” Ron said, jerking a thumb towards the graveyard. “They’ve put the headstone up too.”

“It’s getting late,” added George. “Those Aurors are looking mighty restless.” Harry took Ginny’s hand in his and the four of them made their way back into the churchyard where the rest of them were waiting.

“We’ll give you a minute, Harry,” said Mr Weasley. “Come on you lot, we’ll wait in the cars.” Harry kissed Ginny on the forehead and told her to go on, he wouldn’t be long. A new gleaming white headstone sat next to that of his parents, Remus and Tonks’s names engraved near the top, their birth and death dates underneath. A small man suddenly came scurrying over, carrying something wrapped in a cloth.

“Terribly sorry, Mr Potter, we about forgot this ‘un,” he said as he carefully placed the parcel on the ground and unwrapped it. Inside was a gleaming white stone. It was smaller than the other two but matched them perfectly.

“It’s okay,” said Harry. “Let me do it, you can go, and thank you.” The man nodded and collecting his cloth walked away. Harry levitated the smaller stone into place between the two larger headstones, the writing on it clear in the sunlight streaming through the trees.

In memory of

Sirius Black

“Padfoot”

1960 – 1996

Harry heard a rustle and turned to see George standing nearby.

“I thought they should all be together, you know?” he said, his voice only a little strained. “The Marauders. Well the ones who weren’t dirty rats anyway. I know he’s not really there, I can’t bury him, but they’re together. They need to be together here too.” George just nodded as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry as the sun slipped lower on the horizon.

“You’re right, it’s not much to show for a life, names, dates…” Harry trailed off. He noticed George get out his wand.

“You want to add something to it,” George said. “Something that tells you something about them.” Harry watched as George carefully etched two words on the memorial for Sirius, nestled between the graves of his two best friends. George slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they walked back to the cars. Harry took one last look at the monuments, gleaming in the late afternoon sun and read the words that George had etched.

Mischief Managed.