“You're right, of course. After seven years why even attempt to break you up now?” One of the staff members moved to get two more chairs, and the three sat themselves next to McGonagall in front of the owl-shaped podium.
Just as the three of them took their seats and McGonagall opened her mouth to begin, the huge double doors to the Great Hall that supposedly locked themselves opened of their own accord, and the professor knew they wouldn't do that unless they had a very good reason.
Standing in the doorway was two wizards who looked as if they'd just stepped out of the Australian outback, a Muggle man and woman standing between them and looking very bewildered.
Before either wizard could say "G'Day" however, Hermione screamed and shot down the aisle at full speed and threw herself into her father's and mother's arms. I needn't tell you that there were tears.
"About eighteen hours ago they acted as if they'd just woke up," one of the Australian wizards explained as Professor McGonagall reached the emotional reunion. "Right in the middle of something called a 'root canal'." He shook his head. "Poor bloke they were working on!" He paused a moment. "Anyway, we got wind of their story when the police came on the scene - their receptionist is a cute little witch, y'see; tipped us off as soon as she heard the word 'Hogwarts'. We figured you might know what to do about them."
"Yes; I think we do, as you can see. Thank you so very much," McGonagall whispered while Hermione exclaimed that there was so much for her parents to catch up on.
"You've a hole in your castle; you know that, don't you?"
"It's been a long few days," McGonagall explained quietly.
"Me and m' mate here are good with reconstruction; wouldn't mind helpin' a bit while we're here." Both of the Aussies whipped out their wands as if ready to go to work right then and there.
"Thank you. Please, come in and have a seat."
McGonagall led the two visitors in to the Great Hall and quietly explained to the audience what Hermione had done the summer previous to protect her parents from Voldemort's wrath - she had erased all memory of herself from her own parents' minds, changed their identities, and given them the sudden need to move to Australia. When the girl finally brought her parents forward the entire audience stood in silent respect - touching the hearts of all three Grangers.
Professor McGonagall sat the Grangers next to Arthur Weasley - they knew each other from conversations about muggle artifacts while school shopping - and then she led Hermione back to the head of the room where the Professor recited to the assembly the history of Tom Riddle up to the time that Harry, Ron, and Hermione started their first term at Hogwarts. Then she invited the three to tell the story of their years of schooling and fighting Voldemort, adding in things and asking leading questions to get the three to further tell a particular story. "Yes, you didn't know I knew that," the professor said more than once as the three looked shocked at what she did know about their escapades. "I wouldn't be a very good Head of House if I didn't keep an eye and ear to my students, would I?" Although it was in fact a somber meeting, there was murmurs of laughter in appropriate places. “He did what?” Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were heard to murmur more than once, and the Creeveys were easily recognizable by their blush when stories of their son's photo-taking was mentioned.
It wasn't until Harry retold the story of watching Voldemort being brought back to life the night of the final Tri-Wizard competition that Harry noticed that in the third row and surrounded by a wizard and witch guard sat Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley, all three with wide-eyed looks of astonishment and very pale faces.
When it was finally over, Professor McGonagall stood. “I know there are many of you who would like to come up and speak to Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger. Please remember they been through much and need time for their own healing. Perhaps we can all show our appreciation to them now?”
The room came to their feet, thunderously applauding Harry, Ron, and Hermione, tears mixed with smiles. Not to be held back, Molly Weasley and Mrs. Granger made her way together to the front and took Ron, Harry, and Hermione in their arms. The doors opened, announcing the end of the meeting, and Professor McGonagall took Harry from Mrs. Weasley and led him to where his aunt and uncle still sat.
“Harry,” Dudley said slowly as he stood to face his cousin, “You really did all that? That was the truth? All of it?”
“Yeah, all of it.” Harry didn't know what else to say.
Uncle Vernon stood, Harry recognizing that the man was speechless. For the first time ever his uncle extended his hand and actually shook Harry's hand as if he were a fellow Man. There were no words exchanged, but the gesture was loud and clear to one versed in the murky mysteries of male communication. Aunt Petunia's mouth tried to work as she too stood, but nothing would come out. She finally leaned over just far enough and gave him the briefest of kisses and then managed to say “I'm so sorry, Harry.”
“Dursley?! Is that you?” They all turned to see Mr. Creevey stepping up to the little family reunion. “You're Harry's uncle?” Mr. Creevey smiled a big, proud grin. “How could you keep such an awesome secret? You have to be the proudest man on earth! That must be why you've disappeared this past year - under magical protection, no doubt?"
“Creevey?” Vernon managed to whisper slowly. Creevey, you see, was Vernon's assistant at the office.
“Excuse me,” Harry mumbled, and he fled the scene.
—————
An hour after the family meeting ended the entire school quietly joined those already in the Great Hall. Also joining the students were their families and all those who had rushed to the defense of the school during the Great Attack - which meant that nearly all of Hogsmeade was there along with many, many others who had Apparated to the village and marched on the school with the villagers. There were many wounded among them, and they bore their injuries with quiet dignity.
Where the Headmaster and staff usually sat there was a silent row of more than fifty simple caskets, each draped with the colors of their house. The stool used for the Sorting Ceremony was among the caskets, bearing a grinning picture of Dobby.
Just before the funeral service was to start there was a noise heard in the entry, and a herd of centaur appeared in the doorway.
“May we enter?” Bane, the tough, blond leader asked quietly.
Professor McGonagall was on her feet and striding the length of the hall before the request was completed. “Welcome, all of you. You honor us with your presence.” And she nodded her head respectfully. Bane saluted Firenze, who still lay on blankets in a corner of the room, his wounds being carefully tended by Hagrid.
“Told you they were real,” Dennis Creevey whispered to his astonished parents as McGonagall lead the equine warriors to the great hall, where they of their own accord began to line the walls. It was obvious who the muggle parents were as they reacted to the herd's entrance into the room, but all was done with great dignity on the part of the humans and the centaurs.
A somber silence finally fell as Acting Headmistress McGonagall stood at the owl-shaped speaker's podium and welcomed the staff, students, families of the Deceased, and other defenders of Hogwart's.
“Two years ago,” the Headmistress began, “we ended our school year in memory of one very brave young man, one Cedric Digory - killed as Tom Riddle came back into his power.” She very deliberately used Voldemort's given name. “Last year it was to honor the greatest wizard to have ever headed this school. And today… ” She paused as her emotions caught in her throat. “Today there are so many. Every one of them had the chance to leave. They could have left when we smuggled the underage students out, some of which, as you know, stubbornly returned for the fight.” A distinct sniffle was heard from all three of the Creeveys, the family of one such underage hero. “Some of these before us were alumni; not even current students.” She looked momentarily to where Remus Lupin and his wife lay silently side by side. “But they came of their own accord because they believed in Fre
edom. Because of them and those of us who fought beside them, next year's term will end without a memorial service.
“As Professor Dumbledore told more than one student, it is our choices that make us who we are. These who lay before us now made a choice to fight. They made a choice that no one should live in tyranny, terror, or fear. They made a choice that Freedom had to start with them; not with someone else. They made choices that will resound through the history of this school. And so, we are only the first who will honor them."
Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and around the walls of the Great Hall portraits of those being honored appeared, hanging in beautifully-carved frames. Portraits of Cedric Digory and Professor Dumbledore were included.
“Today's service is for the families, the school, and those who defended the school; I have not even admitted the Ministry as we who fought the fight need a ceremony all our own. The rest of the magical community, however, has been invited to the interment tomorrow morning.
“I have asked each of the heads of the Hogwarts houses to stand and tell something of each of these brave souls.”
As Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, she remained at the head of the room as the two remaining heads of house joined her; one house being without a head. In fact, the only member of that house who had fought the fight was the Head of the House, but he was no longer to be found. Together they went down the line of coffins, each taking their turn at a coffin bearing their house colors, sharing stories both humorous and somber about each student and alumni. As they finished they removed the house colors from the coffin, so by the time the service was done each of the coffins bore only the Hogwarts seal - a silent sign of unity.
The final casket, and the only one to bear the colors of the house no one wanted to name, was that of Severus Snape, and as the heads of the houses approached it Harry stood.
“Please; May I?”
McGonagall nodded and motioned for him to come forward. As she suspected he would do, Harry recited the memories Snape had given the boy while he died, beginning with the man's earliest memories of Lily and Petunia Evans and concluding with the man's death. Aunt Petunia's look told Harry that she remembered the strange boy from the playground of her childhood.
“So you see, he was as much a hero as anyone here.” Harry paused. “I almost don't even hate him any more. In time I hope to be able to forgive him. If nothing else, for my mother's sake."
Harry looked around the Great Hall. “Next time any of you shun or ridicule a fellow classmate or anyone else for whatever reason, remember Professor Snape. Remember how easily your teasing, your ridicule, your snubbing of a fellow human being can affect their choices. Yes, they still make their choice, but we have to do our best to effect them into making the better choice.”
With the heads of houses nodding, Harry returned to his seat.
McGonagall approached the speaker's podium once more. “Most of the families have given their consent for their loved one to be interred here at Hogwarts. Those who will be taking their child home… ”
“Professor?” It was Mr. Creevey who stood, his wife nodding agreement with something he'd just whispered to her. “We've changed our minds. We'd like Colin to be layed to rest here. With his friends." A single huge tear rolled down the man's cheek as he held the most manly of faces. "It's the right thing… ” A quiet sob stopped him from finishing the sentence.
Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded with a most tender look on her face that generations of students would not have thought possible. “It appears, then, that all the internments will take place tomorrow morning. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Creevey, and know that you and all the parents of our Heroes will be welcome here at any time, Magic or non-Magic. We will make the arrangements later.
"We will, then, reconvene tomorrow at Sunrise in the entrance hall. Family members who are visiting: please do not hesitate to call upon the students who have been assigned as your hosts for any of your needs – those of you who are new to the magical world I'm sure will have many questions before our memorial proceedings are completed. Supper, then, will be at Eight O'clock, and all who are here are welcome.”
The doors to the great room opened on their own power, and a powerfully-built man in a kilt and traveling cloak stood in the door. He was as red-haired as any Celt could be and looked like a male version of Professor McGonagall except for his youthfulness.
"Grandfather?" the acting head-mistress said, surprised, as she stepped from the podium and towards the door. It was actually her great-grandfather Angus; a member of the Brotherhood of the Dragons you read about in the first story…
The embrace as she reached the door was tender, and she even shed a tear or two.
"Someone else here to see you, Lassie," Great-grandfather Angus finally whispered, and another man stepped into the light. He too was powerfully built, his raven-black hair pulled back in a braid that fell as far as his waist. Professor McGonagall fell into this man's arms and they embraced and then they kissed. And as they kissed her hair spilled out of his familiar bun and cascaded down her back and turned from grey to red and shimmered in the light. Her figure filled in curves that had not been filled for quite a few years, and wrinkles softened and disappeared, and she was young again. At least for as long as the kiss lasted, which was not a short interval.
"Who? What?" Arthur Weasley asked.
"Well, Jacob of Ely, o' course!" Molly whispered back.
"Oh, of course," Arthur mumbled, not having a clue.
"She really did have a summer romance with a dragon?" Charlie whispered.
"Just not the sort of dragon you thought," Molly grinned at her family's confusion.
"You knew about this?" Arthur asked.
"You don't think Fred and George are the only things she and I discussed during all those parent-teacher meetings, do you? And if even one of my children - or you, Harry - whistle or cat-call, I'll silence the lot of you for good!"
A half-dozen Weasley men and a Potter closed their mouths.
"Does love really make you young again?" Davey Creevey asked his mother.
Missus Creevey put an arm around her husband. "If it's the right person it does."
—————
An hour before sunrise the castle's residents began to trickle down the stairs from the high towers while others trickled up from the lower levels. By the time the entry doors opened to let in the rays of the rising sun the students were ready to fulfill their task as pallbearers. The rest of the school was in fact empty as even the ghosts gathered in the entry and lined the stairs to watch solemnly as each of the caskets were reverently carried through the entry and out the door, led with great dignity by their Headmistress. As each casket left the hall a centaur stepped up to lead the way to the loch's shore, outfitted with full weapons and looking as regal as any warrior could for the funeral of fellow warriors.
It would have taken a blind or heartless person to not see that Professor McGonagall was struggling to hold on to some shred of dignity as she led the procession, but she was a proud woman who would not appear weak for this important role. Just as the woman thought she would collapse, however, the crowd to one side opened, and Bane, the proud, militant centaur, stepped through and stopped in front of the acting headmistress. After silently staring at each other for a moment the warrior who had almost killed another centaur for the sin of giving a human a ride knelt before the woman and motioned backwards towards his equine back.
"May one warrior honor another?" the centaur asked simply.
Aware of Bane's violent revulsion to such an action, McGonagall nearly chocked on her tears while with the greatest of dignity she settled herself on his back in a sidesaddle position, humbled beyond expression by the honor being shown her. Bane turned with equal dignity and began to lead the procession down to the loch, the headmistress laying a single, dignified hand on his shoulder to steady herself.
In a deliberate act of defiance, short, small Davey Creevy refused to walk
behind his brother's casket with his parents but insisted on being a pallbearer, even though it meant he had to raise his arms above his head to help carry his brother's body. He never knew that every time his arms began to give out a witch or wizard respectfully lining the path quietly raised their wand and shot some extra strength his way.
While Fred Weasley was being borne by his brothers and sister, Arthur, Molly, and Fleur walked soberly behind Fred's casket, holding to each other for support. Harry was ahead of them, however, as the caskets were being carried in alphabetical order and he was in his place bearing Remus Lupin – friend, teacher, and the last of his parents' companions – on this last departure from the great castle. Hermione Granger was helping to carry Tonks to her final rest beside her husband of not even a year.
As Remus Lupin's casket reached the doors to the great entry, Harry felt a cold touch on his arm. He turned briefly and saw Myrtle, the ghost who inhabited the girl's bathroom and quite possibly the first of Tom Riddle's many victims, touching his arm. She smiled weakly at Harry as she leaned forward and tried to give him a short little kiss on his cheek. Harry smiled, understanding the great emotion in a ghost trying to make such strong contact with a mortal. She smiled back, their smiles saying everything that needed to be said. Myrtle held up one hand and Harry saw a small shell on a chain.
"From the merpeople," Myrtle whispered in her little-girl voice as she slipped the chain over Harry's neck. "I was flushed into the lake last night and they surrounded me and asked me to deliver this to you." Harry smiled again and was out the door, humbly wearing the gift as Myrtle attempted to take his free elbow and float along beside him towards the final tribute.
As it was a long walk to the loch's shore for those bearing the Fallen, other students walked alongside the path, ready to take over for those whose shoulders and arms gave out in carrying their companions to their final rest. By the time they had reached the shore most every student had helped carry one or more of the caskets.
Harry Potter - Three Short Stories Page 5
