Elizabeth Lily Potter-Petrified

Chapter 19 ~~ Funeral Planning and House-elf Meeting

One would never think that such a happy day could ever possibly come to such a miserable ending.

I trudge up to the Common Room after an eventful Potions lesson involving some poor Slytherin missing out several steps and confusing a vital ingredient with something else entirely. Tomorrow will surely be another fun day, as it is Saturday and Hufflepuff play Slytherin. In other words, Ginny, Vena and I clean all the spare brooms. However, tonight is a night for planning. My parents funeral. I meet Harry at a quiet table in the corner where no-one would see us.

"So, how would our dearly beloved mother and father like to be buried? Or would they be cremated?" I start. What an ice-breaker.

"I don't know, but what about a lovely, bright summers day. In Godric's Hollow. It's where Dad grew up and they gave birth to me. Also, they would have died there if Peter weren't such a mole in a hole." Harry replies. I shrug.

"Sound good. Who are we inviting? And how? Letters, invites, postcards? Remus, definitely. Aunt Petunia and co., Professor McGonagall, Snape? He and Mum were best friends when they were here." I reason.

"Yeah, but... Snape is awful. He's a bully and a deranged soul. You can invite him if you want, but I had nothing to do with his appearance. You hear? We could make invites, right?" Harry counter-reasons. I nod. "Music. What music shall we play? And when, I know I said a summers day, but when in the summer?"

"For the when, we could do it on the day they first kissed because that is a milestone in their relationship, second to them meeting, but that was the first of September, here."

"And how are you going to find that out?"

"I have sources," I say, mysteriously tapping my nose. "As for the music, I'll ask Uncle Mooney."

"Okay, agreed. What would their headstones look like?"

"Um, how about a great big statue of them both! Yeah, no, but like, normal. They wouldn't have wanted anything else."

"True," Harry holds out his hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you." I grasp his hand, giving it a firm shake before turning and walking to my dorm, thinking about what to write to for invitations and Uncle Mooney for information. I yawn just as the door closes behind me.

"Good day, huh?" Myra says from her bed, where she is laying done with her arms folded behind her head and her legs crossed at her ankles.

"Mh-hm." I hum, walking over to my bed and yanking my flats off, letting my feet breathe a bit and wiggling my toes. Suddenly, Myra is stood over me with her hands clasping my shoulders firmly.

"You don't get to have a good day, you hear? I heard all about your little playtime in Flying, and the fun you had after. I have dirt on you that everyone in school would gladly hear, especially the Creeveys and one oh-so-sad Mr Filch." She takes one hand off me to rummage through her robes. Soon, she pulls out a thick, black book of empty pages. Or, more specifically, Tom Riddles' black diary. I gasp and reach for it. "Nope, no more fun for you, missy." She holds it high out of my reach, still pinning me to my bed with her hand. She gently places the book on the bed directly opposite me and brings out her wand.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, only to get shushed as a face of pure concentration forms on Myra's face. She's muttering something but is too quiet for me to hear. My heart beats quicker and my breath gets shallower. This must be a panic attack. I'm having a panic attack because one of my friends are muttering and pushing onto my bed.

"Wingardium Leviosa." She flicks her wand at the wardrobe by the door and it hovers for a second before gliding jaggedly over to cover the door. "You know, I was never top of the class. Heck, I was never even average. My parents always wanted me to be the best, you know? I'm sure your parents would want the same for you and Harry. Wingardium Leviosa." She says. I'm unable to look at what she just moved, as it is behind me, but I know exactly what it is when it's rough texture touches the bare skin of my tender neck and Myra manually begins to tie the thick rope around my body.