Unofficial Portkey Archive

The skies were an overcast grey, casting everywhere into television's black and white greyscale, tones of grey; the only colour that has that quality which seems to dampen everything and depress people.

I stepped out of the sleek black limousine and kept my eyes averted. I didn't want anyone to see how hollow and lonely they had become; brown orbs brimming with sadness. They had wept so much previously that they couldn't even shed a single tear now.

The precious age of seventeen had been denied for me. Technically, I was seventeen. Emotionally I wasn't. And that was saying something.

I finally took a look at my surroundings: a bleak graveyard, much more depressing than it would have been, given the circumstances. Headstones scattered the sparse grass, blatantly obvious to whether or not they were recent or fresh by the tail tale signs of recently disturbed earth or flowers placed carefully at their bases. My eyes grazed a few of them, and I thought about how many people actually died that day. There was only a few trees here and there, breaking up the endless gravestones, most of them leafless due to the season. The spindly empty branches stretched eerily like skeletal fingers, and the lifeless nature of them made the atmosphere even more disheartening, if that was possible.

A royal red carpet had been placed as the walkway up to the coffin, it reminded me of the colour of blood The wizard priest stood in front it, surveying the arriving wizards and witches. I looked behind me to see thousands of magic folk apparating into the graveyard, appearing so suddenly in so many places it almost seemed as if the deceased were coming out of the ground, like some sort of zombie horror movie.

All of a sudden Ron's hand was in mine and he was breathing in my ear, "We can do this. We can do this..." I closed my eyes, feeling a lump coming to my throat painfully and my eyes prickling. I wanted so bad to believe him.

The rest of the Weasleys were right behind Ron. Ginny's face was stony, and she looked like she would rather be anywhere else in the world but here. I didn't blame her.

Ron and I reached the end of the red carpet, and stopped just in front of the coffin. Dozens and dozens of flowers had been placed around it. A short old man with balding grey hair was passing out roses. I took two and held them to my chest. Ron took one, looked at it sadly, and held my hand tighter. I bit my lip hard, hoping that the pain would distract me and make the ache in my heart go away.

We stood there for a while, waiting as everybody else that had recently arrived circled us, and spread out to form a ring around the coffin. There was an enormous amount of people there - it didn't surprise me. Numbly I noticed former classmates, teachers, and even old archenemies.

Once the crowd had settled a complete silence fell onto us, all heads looked up expectantly. The wizard priest stepped up onto the podium. I took a deep breath with difficulty, my lungs feeling constricted.

"We are here," he said, his voice powerful and sombre, "to mourn the loss of the most courageous, extraordinary, and memorial man this earth has ever seen. Harry James Potter's life will be remembered throughout eternity. He sacrificed himself for his family, his friends, and the whole wizarding world itself."

Ron and I walked down the corridor to the Great Hall. It was the end of the day and we were going to dinner. We wanted to find Harry, because we hadn't seen him since class, but we figured it was just because of his training program that he had been in since the beginning of their seventh year.

Ron didn't share in my anxiousness. "
on't worry, Hermione," he said, "Harry's just fine. Why wouldn't he be?"

"Yes I do." He said gravely, he was trying to sound brave and noble, but I knew that deep down inside he was terrified at the prospect of having to duel Voldemort. "I'm not going to endanger the people I love most in the world." He touched my cheek softly, and then pushed a wet strand of hair behind my ear. My lips quivered as I tried to come up with something to say that would persuade him to stay, but I knew it would be useless.

"Goodbye, Hermione. You will tell Ron and Ginny 'goodbye' for me, won't you? Tell them I love them. I love you, too. More then words can say. Without you . . . I wouldn't be here and I want to thank you for that." Harry whispered the last few words in my ear and I shut my eyes tightly, wishing it was all a dream. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, his face mere inches from mine. My heart was thumping so loudly I wondered if Harry could hear it. He leaned forward and firmly but gently planted his lips upon mine.

"Harry! Harry!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "Please!" I was sobbing now, huge sobs that wracked my body, and made me feel as though my heart was cracking excruciatingly in two. I tried to chase after him, but after a few steps someone's arms were around me and pulling me back. I tried to fight against it, but they were too strong. I felt my legs collapse and fell to the soaked grass, I turned my head to see Ron. "Its okay, Hermione, he'll be back . . . don't worry . . . he had to do this . . ."

"...Without Harry Potter, we wouldn't have come as far as we have today," the priest was saying. "He was a modest and noble man, equal and fair to everyone."

I blinked, forcing away the memory, and focused my eyes back onto the folds of the priest's black robes.

"I now ask you walk up and place a rose on his coffin, which will represent your love and loyalty. The name Harry Potter will go on for generations, and will be remembered in each and every one of our hearts."

The crowd formed a line and one by one, they stepped up, shamelessly crying, and placed a red rose on his coffin. I waited until everyone had done so; I wanted to be last. Ron stood a few feet behind me and patiently waited.

I stood before Harry's coffin. Harry Potter's coffin. Harry Potter's coffin. The words didn't sound right even in my mind. The man I had known for eleven years; the man that was my best friend. The man that I loved was dead.

I placed the two roses on it, and stood, stooped over the dark wood.

"One's for being my best friend." I whispered to Harry, hoping that, wherever he was, he could hear me. "The other is for being the hero." I didn't notice I was crying until I felt a tear roll down my cheek and splash, a minute puddle onto the mahogany. I touched its salty trail, vaguely remembering the not-so-long-ago time when Harry had touched my cheek, that night by the lake. The night that changed my life forever.

I straightened up, turned around slowly and walked over to Ron. He wrapped his arms around me protectively as I leaned my head on his shoulders. He kissed my forehead, murmuring, "Everything's going to be okay now . . . everything's going to be okay."