The weather was strangely calm that day. There was little to no wind, though frostiness still hung in the air. The sky was smothered in silvery grey cloud, not threatening- looking, but as dismal as Harry felt.
Though it had been a week since the battle of Hogsmead, there was still a thick, smoky smell clinging to the air. Harry leaned against Hogwarts' stony wall, looking into the distance and the ruins of the village. Half of it was perfectly fine, with only minor damage done, while the majority of houses… Harry wondered where exactly they were keeping all the homeless people.
Too many deaths had occurred that night, too much hurt had been caused. There had been losses on both sides, though (unfortunately) it was the Order and the Aurors that had suffered most.
Amos Diggory had joined his son that night. Harry had seen his eerily peaceful body with his own eyes.
Madame Rosmerta had also died, murdered cold-bloodedly by Mulciber.
There had been others, some Harry did know and some he didn't. Stan Shunpike had met his untimely death, as had Elphias Doge, John Dawlish and someone named Gawain Robards.
Harry sighed into the cool air. Too much death…
"Harry?" Remus's voice drifted to his ears. He was in a smart black suit and highly polished black shoes, wearing an expression as dark as his clothes. "Come on Harry. It's starting soon."
Harry stayed where he was, not even turning to face Lupin.
"Harry, come on."
"I can't" whispered Harry, his voice cracking slightly. Today was the day of Hagrid's funeral.
Remus tilted his head slightly, looking concerned. "Harry" he said softly "you've got to come and say goodbye."
"I've said my goodbyes to him." There was a lump in Harry's throat, and his chest was constricting. "I can't face another funeral, Remus, I can't."
Slowly, quietly, Remus walked over to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry felt it, heavy on his shoulder. "I know-"
"No you don't. Everyone around me is dying, I can't take it! I don't want to see him being buried, I just…" he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I want to cut my self out from it. Maybe then people will be safe."
"Listen to me: It is not your fault. It was like this before you were born, it's Voldemort's fault and nobody elses."
"But I can't say goodbye to him forever" Harry felt tears sting his eyes and he looked back into the horizon.
"If you don't go" said Remus slowly "you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
There was a twang of pain in Harry's chest, and he swallowed so hard it hurt his throat. Remus had said the magic words. Harry knew he was right, but had tried not to think of it. No… he needed to go, otherwise it would haunt him forever.
With a heavy heart, Harry followed Remus, so he could pay his last respects to Hagrid.
*
Harry clenched the inside material of his trouser pockets. The lump in his throat felt more like a tennis ball. He adjusted himself in his rickety black chair to face the old man, speaking words over the enormous coffin. They were in an enormous clearing in the Forbidden Forest, not too far from Hagrid's cabin. There was only a small circle of white sky visible, as there were intimidating-looking trees encircling them. The handsome wooden coffin was straining a little at the sides, but they hadn't been able to find a bigger size: it was already three times as big as a normal coffin.
Either side of him, Ron and Hermione were shedding tears. Hermione was almost breaking down: she had managed to keep her sobbing and moaning under control, but she couldn't stop her rapidly shaking shoulders and incessant tears. Ron had his face covered beneath his hands but loud snivels and sobs were emitting from his throat.
Harry looked around again. A few seats back were the rest of the Weasleys, minus Percy. They had only found out about his death yesterday, as there had been injuries: George had had his arm cut off, Charlie had broken three ribs and Ginny had also injured her arm. They had managed to replace George's arm with a metal one. He could move all the digits like a regular arm, but it was made out of stainless steel, and looked robotic. Charlie had come out a little worse for wear, but otherwise fine, as it was a simple charm to mend ribs. Ginny, however, was acting rather odd: he had had a short talk with her, and she had seemed very distant. But he could swear he had seen her talking to Draco Malfoy (whom the Weasleys had had to bring, as they didn't trust him alone in the house), and occasionally catching his eye.
Grawp was at the far corner, his boulder-ish face a portrait of confusion. He didn't seem to understand what was going on. All of the teachers who knew Hagrid were there. McGonagall was wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and Grubbly-Plank looked grave indeed.
Even the animals seemed to know that Hagrid was gone. Buckbeak was lying with his head on his taloned feet and Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, was howling like a wolf at the moon.
There was a miniscule roll of thunder that wouldn't have been audible if everything wasn't so quiet, and tiny spots of rain started spitting down on them. Finally, the little man finished his speech, and Hagrid's gigantic coffin was lowered into the earth.
Harry remained silent and motionless as people gradually started moving, distancing himself from the rest of the world. He stared, lifeless, at the hole in the ground that was being filled in.
How could he have lost Hagrid? Hagrid had been his ticket to freedom from the horrible life he had with the Dursleys. He remembered all the visits to his cabin, all the times they had discussed mysterious plots involving Voldemort, all those times Hagrid had comforted and reassured him.
One of Hagrid's rock cakes would taste so good right now.
Keeping his eyes on the mound of earth, he slowly stood and walked towards it. He conjured a bouquet of giant dandelions- Hagrid had always had a fondness for dandelions- and placed it carefully near the gravestone.
Rubeus Hagrid
1930- 1998
A small trickle of liquid ran down Harry's face, but it was his own salty tear rather than the rain. He turned to go, but he finally glanced back, to take a last look at the resting place of a gentle giant.
*
Harry leant against the windowsill, a habit he had picked up since the Battle of Hogsmead. He was glad he had eventually gone to Hagrid's funeral, he had needed to say goodbye. But he couldn't take back what he had said to Remus.
"Everyone around me is dying, I can't take it!... I want to cut my self out from it. Maybe then people will be safe."
He couldn't stay here, where there were people inhabiting a village just a few miles away. Wherever he went, danger followed.
"What's up, mate?" Ron's voice jerked him back.
"I can't stay here, Ron" said Harry in barely more than a whisper. "We've got to go. Go where people aren't surrounding us."
Ron nodded solemnly and stared out the window along side him.
*
"Come on, you two!" Hermione's impatient hiss reached them from a distance. Grumbling, Harry and Ron picked up their pace as they trekked through the forest together.
They were back in the woods where the Quidditch world cup had been held. It was convenient- completely deserted, and muggle-repellent charms all year round. They trekked deeper and deeper into the forest; Harry's back getting sweatier with every step.
"Ok for her" Ron muttered quietly, wiping his dripping brow "hardly carrying anything…"
Hermione had bought a charmed little bag that could carry things a normal handbag couldn't without getting heavier. But Ron and Harry had two heavy rucksacks and walloping great swords to carry. Ron and Hermione had disguised themselves and bought swords. Harry, who owned Gryffindor's sword, wanted them to have the same level of protection as him, and insisted on them having a backup weapon in case they found themselves without wands.
Hermione had finally stopped, and was making a small clearing with her wand, tearing up the brambles and cutting the grass. Harry and Ron dumped their bags on the floor, and, groaning, stretched their aching backs.
"Blimey" muttered Ron "those things must weigh a ton… I'm dead thirsty, you know, mate." He rummaged in his bag for water, but finding none he sat down and groaned again. "I'm dying…" Harry rolled his eyes.
Hermione, who had finished her bramble-tearing, tossed him a flagon of ice cold pumpkin juice from her bag.
"Cor, thanks, Herm." Ron took a swig, wiped his mouth on his hand and smiled appreciatively at Hermione, who smiled back. Harry smiled discreetly too. Even if it was just a drink, Harry was glad they were acting like friends again. It had been very pressing to be in the middle of their hostility.
They set up the huge tent, put various concealment spells and protection charms around it and unpacked their things. When they were completely convinced that nothing could see or get to them, they started training.
The Battle of Hogsmeade had made Harry realise how junior their magic was. He had seen Order members perform spells on Death Eaters that he had never heard of. They practised curses that knocked Death Eaters out, and completely paralysed them- simple stunners didn't last long, and were easily countered. They needed spells that would get Death Eaters out of the way, but Harry was determined- he would not kill.
They divided their time between brainstorming ideas as to where the next Horcrux was, visiting those places (much to no avail), training and practising sword fighting. Harry felt this was necessary, and he and Ron would often get up early to train, occasionally having Hermione join them. As Hermione's arms were not as burly as Harry or Ron's, her sword was more like a large knife, and not an equal match to theirs.
*
January soon turned into March and March soon turned into May, and Harry was getting restless and felt useless. People were dying out there, and they still didn't have any leads as to where the next horcrux was. They had looked in Borgin and Burkes, another place Riddle went on holiday to as a child, even the muggle orphanage where he grew up, and nothing.
Meanwhile, Harry found his attraction to Hermione was not subsiding: it was growing stronger. He couldn't help but feel his skin prickle and his collar grow hot when she touched him in an intimate way, which was a lot of the time. Hmm. If Harry didn't know better, he'd have said she was doing it on purpose.
That night they were up till way past dark, practising with wooden swords. Bones aching and new bruises forming, they went in for supper: a fish which Hermione had caught and cooked.
They kept in touch with the outside world by the small radio Ron had kept. There was only really one good radio station, and they tuned into it to listen to Lee Jordan's voice every night.
That night they were all cuddled up in a circle, snuggled up in their sleeping bags against the cold.
"… Thanks for that." Lee's voice blared out from the tiny speakers after a man promoting anti-Death Eater activity had been on. "And now… wait…" there was a long pause. "Ah." Lee's voice turned solemn. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you of two more deaths amongst us. Mr. Larry Gomage and Mr. Ted Tonks were both found dead today, killed by Death Eaters. Let us have a minuet's silence, please."
Harry felt terrible. He didn't know who Larry Gomage was, but he was sure there would be people who missed him. And while he had never met Ted Tonks in person, he knew that he was Tonks's father, and he felt terrible for her. Did she know?
Exhausted, they crawled into their separate compartments and settled down to sleep, laying their pillows on the hard, earthy floor.
Eight hours later Harry was jerked awake by Ron's frantic whisper.
"Harry! Harry, I think there's something out there!"
Quick as a flash Harry whipped out his wand, which he kept under his pillow and snapped his eyes open.
He rolled himself out of his sleeping bag and braced himself for the chill he knew would greet him when he unzipped his tent.
A freezing shiver ran through his spine as he stepped outside, his bare toes on the icy dewy grass. Mossy-smelling forest air filled his lungs, and he peered at Ron pointing his wand at the trees.
"Through there" he whispered, looking nervous. Harry took a step closer, and sure enough he could hear an odd humming noise joined with the crunch of twigs snapping underfoot. Something was stepping nearer.
Harry gulped, and crept nearer, stepping lightly on the soggy grass. The humming grew louder, and Harry and Ron braced themselves. The air was thick with tension.
Suddenly the noise stopped, and they stood in silence, straining their ears to pick up traces of the weird humming sound.
"Aaargh!" A small, furry yellow creature had shot out of the bushes and jumped on Ron's chest, licking his face with an enormous blue tongue. Ron swatted at the ball of fuzz, stumbling about in the half-lit bushes. Harry watched, mouth open, and saw that the creature was attached to a leash, and holding that leash was a girl.
"Hi Harry. Hello, Ronald!"
*
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