Wot In The Harri Potter?

3 - Funeral

July 1998 ~ two months after the Battle of Hogwarts

Grief shrouds me like a cloak of darkness.

Two months have passed and I feel as though things are getting worse, not better.

Molly keeps muttering about the funeral being a great healer for us all, an event in which we can all 'move on'.

I don't get how she can be so blasé about burying her son. I don't want to do it, because the moment we put him in that ground is the moment he is gone from us for good.

So, when the morning arrives, I can barely get out of bed.

"It's time to wake up, sleepyhead!"

The words hit me like a freight train. I am barely able to take a breath as my eyes fly open, my heart in my throat as Molly sings Fred's words.

The curtains are suddenly whipped open, dazzling me with sunlight. "It's Fred's day today," Molly continues cheerily, "and I don't want any tears! He is a happy boy, and therefore should have a happy send off!"

She'd originally offered me the twins' old room, but I couldn't face going in there and seeing all of his things. So I find myself back in Bill's old room instead.

Molly's grief is entirely bizarre to me. She's acting as though Fred is simply going away on some trip. But then again, maybe this is her way of coping. At least she let me stay with them, refusing to allow me to go back to twelve Grimmauld Place all on my own.

I slowly, achingly put on the dress Molly has picked out for me. No one is allowed to wear black. Therefore she picked out the green dress Fred had bought me for Christmas.

It hurts to look at myself in the mirror, recalling the last time I wore it during Bill and Fleur's wedding when he told that he wanted his future to be ours.

A future that we both got cruelly robbed of.

"There, there," Molly says smiling as I eventually enter the kitchen, my heart as always aching at the absence of him. "No tears, remember! At least you have a future still! Think of all the wonderful things you can fill it with! Tea?"

I shake my head, thanking her dully for the breakfast which I know I won't be able to eat.

"Mum-" Ron mutters from where he is sat slumped over his cornflakes at the table, "can you stop saying things like that, please."

"Oh, silly Ron," Molly trills brightly, "not you too! At this rate I'm only going to have grumpy sons left! Oh, I do hope George cheers up soon. I miss his jokes! Still," she looks at the large portrait of Fred on the wall which had been mounted the day after he died. "You'll keep those jokes coming, won't you, son?"

I can't bring myself to look at it, let alone hear a shadow of him talking through a picture. I quickly turn around and bolt out of the Burrow.

I lean on the garden fence, breathing deeply, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Harri?"

I get quite the fright when I see George walking towards me up the garden path. For a split second I think it is Fred and he has somehow jumped out of the picture.

George looks so broken, his entire body stooped over as he drags himself towards the Burrow.

"Hey, George." I murmur, wanting to ask how he is but knowing that's the most stupidest question in the world right now.

He looks at me, his eyes lifeless and dull. "How's Mum?"

"Uh- surprisingly upbeat." I confess. "She's at this very minute trying to get your brother's portrait to crack some funeral jokes."