❝ a darkness that holds me,
and loves when I bleed,
it locks all the doors and then hides all the keys,
wish someone had told me what I couldn't see,
a glimmer of hope that was staring at me ❞
fred weasley x fem!oc
golden trio era
rewr...
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A PHOENIX'S LAMENT WAS A thing of horrific beauty. It was bone-chilling and cold in its true nature – for it was only in times of death and despair that brought it out, echoing in the brisk air – but still, the tune remained warm. The song of grief was sung lovingly, in reminiscence of a past life, but it still held every bit of sadness and terror like any other wail of pain. Fawkes was no different. Even with his own fair share of death, having been reborn from his own ashes far too many times to count, he still mourned. He grieved and sang out in a heart-wrenching tune that even had the castle's gargoyles shifting their stoney faces in reciprocal pain.
The sun rose slowly in the following hours, as if it too were saddened by the events of the prior night. The day started slow and barren of sound. Not that anybody really managed to take notice – far too consumed in their own thoughts; their own fears that had blossomed in the dead of night and festered with the sudden demise of Albus Dumbledore. When the word had finally got out the following morning, released by a Ministry delegation that had entered Hogwarts just shy of the bleak afternoon, the village of Hogsmeade began to fill up. Beds, rooms, and inns were all full to capacity and there was to be a funeral. A moment to say final goodbyes, to give a proper send off to the deceased headmaster.
Rebecca Black wasn't allowed to attend the funeral. There'd be far too many people there, far too many wandering eyes and The Order didn't want to risk it. She was sent right back to the flat above the joke shop alone – despite Fred's many protests – and she was just to wait for them to return when it was all said and done. In honesty, though, she really didn't care for the funeral. She didn't care that it was happening, nor if she'd be able to attend or not. It might've been harsh, or seen as mean or inconsiderate – maybe even rather cruel – but she couldn't help it. Everything she knew and thought of Albus Dumbledore had changed the moment she learned the truth of the Potters' prophecy. When she learned the truth about the man.
"I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone," Fred's voice had suddenly wafted into the bedroom from the opened doorway, appropriately clad in all black and tugging nervously at the cuffs of his blazer, "not while we'll all be so far away."
"It'll be suspicious to see your entire family paying their respects and you're not there alongside them," Rebecca muttered in a slight monotone, barely lifting her sights up from a tattered Divination textbook on her lap to meet his concerned gaze, "plus, you do feel upset about it; you liked Dumbledore, and should you stay, you'll only regret it later."
"I'll regret leaving should something happen to you and I'm not here," He stated softly, eyes glassed in worry as he watched her make note of something in the margin of the book, "so many people will be over there, and the alley will be empty – what if –"
