Rekindled

Honouring the Fallen

Breakfast at the Burrow the morning of the funeral was subdued. Plates of eggs, toast, and bacon sat untouched as the family picked at their food or sat in silence. Even Mrs. Weasley, who typically bustled about during meals, stayed seated, absentmindedly sipping her tea. 

George didn't come down, and Percy sat stiffly at the far end of the table, his fork clinking against his plate as he prodded a sausage. His face was pale, and his lips pressed into a thin line. 

"I don't see why we have to go," Percy muttered suddenly, his voice tight. 

Everyone looked up, startled. 

"It's a funeral, Percy," Ron said flatly, though his tone wasn't unkind. 

Percy's grip on his fork tightened. "I know what it is, Ron," he snapped. "But... what's the point? Saying goodbye won't bring Fred back." His voice cracked on the name, and he shoved his chair back abruptly, storming out of the kitchen. 

Mrs. Weasley started to rise, but Mr. Weasley placed a hand on her arm. "Let him go, Molly," he said softly. "He'll come back when he's ready." 

Harry glanced at Ginny, who stared at her plate, her jaw tight. The tension in the air was suffocating. 

Just then, an owl tapped at the window, a rolled parchment tied neatly to its leg. Hermione let it in, and Harry untied the letter as the owl flew off. 

"It's from Professor McGonagall," Harry said, his brow furrowing as he read. 

"What does it say?" Ginny asked. 

Harry hesitated, his eyes scanning the parchment. "She wants me to speak at the funeral," he said quietly. 

"Just you?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione. 

"No," Harry replied. "She's asking all three of us—me, you, and Hermione—to speak. She says the crowd would want to hear from us... about the battle, about... everything." 

Ron groaned, sinking back into his chair. "Blimey, Harry. I'm no good at that sort of thing." 

Hermione was already sitting up straighter, her brow furrowed with determination. "It's not about being good at it," she said. "It's about honoring everyone who fought and died." 

Harry nodded, though the thought of standing in front of hundreds of mourners made his stomach churn. "We'll figure it out," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. 

---

The Funeral 

Hogwarts loomed large and somber as they arrived, its repaired towers casting long shadows over the gathering crowd. Rows of chairs spread out across the lawn, and an elaborate stage was set up at the front, draped in the banners of the four houses. 

The ceremony began with Professor McGonagall's opening remarks. Her voice, as steady and strong as ever, carried across the grounds as she spoke of the courage and sacrifice shown during the battle. 

When it was Harry's turn to speak, he felt his palms grow damp as he approached the podium. Hermione gave him an encouraging nod, and Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

Standing before the sea of faces, Harry took a deep breath, gripping the edges of the podium. 

"I'm not very good at speeches," he began, his voice uneven. "But... I want to say thank you. To everyone who fought, and to those who gave their lives to protect Hogwarts, to protect all of us." 

His gaze moved over the crowd, catching sight of Andromeda Tonks holding baby Teddy, of Angelina Johnson sitting with her head bowed, and of Percy, his face streaked with tears. 

"Fred Weasley," Harry continued, his throat tightening. "He... he made us laugh, even in the darkest times. He gave us hope. And Remus Lupin... he taught me what it means to be brave, to fight for what's right, no matter the cost. Nymphadora Tonks was full of light and love, and she never hesitated to fight for her family, for her friends. They—and so many others—showed us what it means to be heroes." 

Harry's voice broke, and he looked down, gripping the podium for support. Hermione stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his arm, and continued. 

"We must carry their legacy forward," she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. "By rebuilding, by remembering, and by living the lives they fought to protect." 

Ron finished the speech, his words short but heartfelt. "They were the best of us," he said simply. "And we'll never forget them." 

As they stepped down from the stage, the applause was quiet but sincere, a ripple of gratitude and shared grief moving through the crowd. 

---

Returning to the Burrow 

The journey back to the Burrow was somber, but the mood shifted slightly as the family gathered in the sitting room. Instead of silence, there was the gentle hum of conversation, punctuated by laughter as they shared stories of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks. 

Percy, his face red and blotchy, finally opened up. "He used to prank me constantly," he said, his voice trembling. "But I think... I think it was his way of showing he cared. And I never told him... I never told him how much I admired him." 

Mrs. Weasley pulled Percy into a hug, and for the first time in days, he didn't resist. 

Harry sat quietly for a while, listening as the others shared memories. Eventually, he stepped outside, needing some air. He found Ginny in the garden again, sitting on the stone wall where they'd spoken the night before. 

She looked up as he approached, her face streaked with tears. "I can't stop thinking about him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fred. And... and everyone else." 

Harry hesitated, then sat down beside her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. Tentatively, he placed an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. 

"I miss him too," Harry said softly. "I miss all of them." 

Ginny's hand found his, and she held it tightly. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their grief shared between them. 

"You know," Ginny said, her voice steadier now, "Fred would hate this. He'd tell us to stop moping and do something ridiculous, like prank the twins from down the lane." 

Harry smiled faintly, imagining Fred's mischievous grin. "He would." 

Ginny tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes still glistening with tears. "Thanks, Harry. For... for being here." 

"Always," Harry said, his voice firm despite the lump in his throat. 

For the first time in what felt like ages, Ginny smiled—a small, fragile smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

---

Inside, the family had begun to toast Fred, Lupin, and Tonks with butterbeer and firewhisky, their stories growing more animated and fond with each passing moment. As Harry and Ginny rejoined them, he felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. 

Though the pain of loss would never fade completely, the love and laughter shared that evening reminded Harry of something important: even in the darkest times, the bonds they shared could bring light. 

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