The Greywitch Trials | Harry Potter AU

After

Three Months Later

The funeral of Harry Potter was the most widely attended magical event of the century, if not the millennium. The hundreds on hundreds of silent bodies stood on the Quidditch pitch and in the stands, more still outside and listening to the dozens of speeches and testimonies to his kindness, his bravery, his loyalty. 

Eloise hadn't really known him all that well. He'd seemed fine. It felt surreal to see just how much perfect strangers had adopted an almost worshipful attitude. The papers hailed Harry as the heart of the Resistance in life and death, a martyr. 

More like a pig to slaughter. 

He'd faced Voldemort, and he'd died, all because of the myth and legend surrounding his miraculous survival as a baby. It was like he'd been destined from birth to be thrust in front of this evil tyrant like some sort of human shield. It was sick. 

And so many praised him. 

Eloise thought they should pity him, pity him for living his life only to lose it just as swiftly. 

As the bitter thoughts swirled through her mind, she ignored the way her breaths had taken on a laboured quality from something as simple as walking to the castle from the pitch, something she'd done dozens of times during her time at school. Beside her, of course, Charlie hadn't broken a sweat. His skin was already taking on a caramel quality from his time in Peru in spite of how fair his skin was. Clearly, wrangling dragons did more for the lungs than lazing about in her flat researching warding techniques and remotely studying for her makeup tests for her lost seventh year. 

Though, Charlie being around for Christmas and now the funeral had definitely had her engaging in a bit more physical activity than normal. She missed him when he spent time across the world, but he was happy with his dragons as she was out of the clutches of the so-called 'New Ministry'. 

While Eloise respected and trusted Kingsley a great deal, she'd come to terms with the fact that the mere prospect of giving her time and magic to such a corrupt institution gave her hives, currently uncorrupted or otherwise. She could see the back of the tall wizard's head from where she huffed and puffed her way up the hill. He was walking with a much shorter red-headed figure.

Ginny. 

Eloise's stomach hardened. Ginny had been forcibly involved in many different events after the war, including Harry's funeral. Both Hermione and Ron were stuck in the same shackles, but it was hitting Ginny especially hard. She'd only just accepted the death of her first love, and she was forced to relive the entire ordeal more than a year later. It was cruel. While it seemed to be a form of closure for Ron and Hermione, it was ripping open the stitches on a wound for Ginny. 

Eloise patted Charlie on the shoulder and jerked her chin in the direction of Ginny's rapidly retreating figure as the ginger practically fled the scene, indicating her plan. He nodded and allowed himself to fall back, into step with Oliver and Alicia. With a quick shake of her shoulders, bracing against the cold air, Eloise sped up her steps and pursued her friend. 

It took a long time for her to catch up to Ginny. By the time she reached the redhead, they were halfway across the bridge leading to the training grounds. They didn't talk, but when Eloise laced their hands together, Ginny's grip was so tight that she feared her fingers would eventually fall off. 

Eloise allowed her friend to navigate the crowds of witches and wizards in mourning black robes with the practiced ease that made her stomach drop. Ginny could barely take a step without someone reminding her about her dead lover and his bravery. Merlin, it was heartbreaking for Eloise to watch the flickering light behind Ginny's eyes grow dimmer by the moment.