To Love and Live by LilaBear
Chapter Notes: And here's chapter 6! Please let me know what you think so I can make things better in the future ;)
NB: Please go back and read Chapter 3 again- I've added in a new bit in regards to when Harry kills Voldemort. I will be referring back to that part in a few chapters' time, so it's important you read it. Thanks :)
Thursday morning dawned bright and sunny, and Harry was up at the crack of dawn. He sat on the seat by Ron’s window, looking out over the meadows and trees beside the Burrow, with a blanket wrapped around him. He heard Ron stir behind him.
“Morning,” Harry said.
“Mrnmfng,” came the reply.
The family had decided straight away not to have the funeral at the local graveyard. Graveyards, in Molly’s opinion, were unsafe for her family. A small plot of land down the back of the Weasley property had been designated a family burial site- a place Molly hoped she would not have to bury anyone else.
Harry wandered down the stairs, still in his pyjamas, the end of the blanket trailing behind him. He loved the Burrow. He couldn’t imagine a more wonderful home. When I get married, I want a home just like this, he thought to himself. He could smell breakfast coming from the kitchen where he knew Mrs Weasley was cooking, but he didn’t go in yet. He stayed in the living room, looking out into the back yard, gazing at the trees that he knew hid an impromptu Quidditch pitch behind it.
Quidditch. It had been far too long since he played it. It’s been far too long since I rode my broom, Harry thought with a wry grin. Harry rubbed his feet together, cold on the bare wooden floor. Winter had definitely set in. That means Christmas can’t be far away, Harry realised. He’d completely lost track of time while searching for the Horcruxes. With the thought of Christmas came the thought of the new year; Harry was looking forward to it.
A new year, a time for change, he thought happily. He would probably end up back at Grimmauld Place, though he hated to leave the homeliness of the Burrow. Harry knew he had plenty of money left to him by his parents and Sirius to survive for years without working, but he knew he’d never do that. He’d get far too bored, but he had no idea what he’d do with himself the next year.
“Good morning,” a voice softly interrupted him. He glanced behind himself to see Ginny, wrapped up in a thick dressing gown with fuzzy slippers. Harry chuckled at the sight of them. “What?” Ginny asked indignantly. “Are you laughing at Mr Fluffy and Mr Fuzzy?”
Harry’s chuckled escaped into a full-blown laugh. “Which one’s Mr Fluffy and which one’s Mr Fuzzy?”
Ginny sighed as she looked at the slippers. “I have no idea. I’d forgotten by the time I was seven, I think.”
Harry grinned at the image of a seven-year-old Ginny looking sadly at the slippers, trying to remember which was which.
Mrs Weasley poked her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, it’s you two,” she said happily, though her eyes had lost a bit of their sparkle. “I thought I heard voices. You’re up early.”
Harry turned to follow her back into the kitchen. “I watched the sunrise. Ron was awake… or, in some state of awakeness, but not for long, I think.”
The smell of bacon, eggs, bagels, raisin toast and coffee assaulted his senses as he stepped into the kitchen.
“I definitely don’t want to leave the Burrow if it means leaving smells like these,” Harry said.
“Leave the Burrow?” Ginny and Mrs Weasley asked in unison, their heads snapping up to look at him.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on doing it anytime soon,” he rushed to explain. “I was just thinking about the new year, and about Grimmauld Place, and thinking I’ll probably end up there.”
“Well, you’re definitely spending Christmas here,” Mrs Weasley said with a no-nonsense air in her voice.
“I was planning on it,” Harry grinned. He surveyed the wonderful food before him, then thought of the day to come. Charlie. Harry suddenly realised he’d lost a bit of his appetite, but certainly not enough to dissuade him from sampling some bacon and eggs with raisin toast and coffee to finish.
As he sat munching on the toast and sipping his coffee, he watched Ginny who was on the other side of the table reading the Daily Prophet, oblivious to the fact she was being watched. The recently-risen sun was peeking through the windows of the lounge room and flowed into the kitchen, the light bouncing off Ginny’s hair in what Harry found to be the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long while.
Harry watched Ginny read the Prophet apprehensively. He almost didn’t want to know what it contained. These days, it usually had some manner of bad news for him, and today of all days he didn’t want any other concerns on his mind. Today was family day, to mourn for Charlie. Harry sighed gently in relief when Ginny set the paper aside, seeming unperturbed by what she had read inside it. Still, he left it untouched as he rose from the table.
“I’m going to get changed. I might try and wake Ron up in the process,” he said.
Without looking up, Ginny passed him a plate with some bacon on, saying “wave this under his nose.” Harry grinned and took the plate, thinking the idea just might work.
~*~
A small crowd was gathered under a group of trees in the far back corner of the Weasley grounds. Arthur, Molly, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny sat together, with Bill, Fleur, Harry, Neville, Hermione and Colin sitting behind them, and Remus, Tonks, Marcus and Moody sitting in the back. Anthony was on leave and visiting his family in Manchester, and Luna and Kingsley were still in St Mungo's, even though Kingsley was now conscious.
Harry knew Percy’s absence was a thorn in Molly’s heart, but he had a feeling that should Percy show up, he’d be hexed and possibly even cursed into next week by his siblings.
The officiating wizard stood up the front and brought the memorial service to a start. Once the official matters were out of the way, Bill was invited to give Charlie’s eulogy. Harry was dreading this moment. Dreading the moment that Charlie’s life would be brought back to the surface, and he would be reminded of what he could have prevented. He was doing a lot better in regards to blaming himself, and even though he no longer took full responsibility for Charlie’s death, he still felt like he’d had some hand in it.
Bill took a deep breath as he surveyed the people gathered before him.
“Charlie Weasley was one of the bravest men I knew,” he started. “He had a remarkable combination of awe-inspiring qualities about him which made him an amazing all-rounder.” Bill licked his lips before continuing. “He was fearless, but careful. I imagine you’d have to be to work with dragons. He was one of the fittest people I knew, who was happiest outdoors. He was an amazing flyer and could have played pro Quidditch if he’d wanted.
“He was an important leg within The Order of the Phoenix. He travelled huge distances rallying support against Voldemort and was often away from home for months at a time. He was self-less and worked hard for others without complaining.”
As Bill spoke, Harry couldn’t help but realise a lot of what he was saying could be applied to the entire Weasley family. Good flyers; self-less; brave; loyal. He broke out of his train of thought to realise tears were rolling down his cheeks.
He looked to his side, taking in Neville’s face. Harry sucked in a breath as he considered the change Neville had gone through. Gone was the afraid, bungling boy wizard of Hogwarts; today there sat a highly capable, although sometimes still anxious, wizard.
He shifted his eyes from Neville to Colin. Colin, although vastly different to Neville, had undergone changes not unlike Neville’s. He had always possessed more confidence than Neville, and had progressed in skill faster, but he had been so innocent to the terror the wizarding world could bestow upon him. He was no longer “that boy with the camera”; he was now that wizard who could cast a shielding charm faster than anyone Harry knew.
Fighting Voldemort was one thing. It was when people began dying, and Harry realised his old life truly was gone, that the heartache set in. He would never play as Seeker opposite to Charlie in the Weasleys' backyard ever again. Hermione would never be able to put a body-bind on Neville without him deflecting it ever again. Dumbledore would never take Harry on a tour of his memories ever again. Life was changing far too fast for Harry’s liking.
Harry now saw the officiating wizard resume his position at the front of the group, and heard him ask if anyone else had any last words to say before the coffin was buried.
Harry didn’t know why he did it, but suddenly he found himself walking to the front of the group. He surveyed the people in front of them; he felt, rather than saw, their heartbreak. Tears clouded his vision as he felt his own emotions fall apart inside.
Harry took a deep breath before speaking.
“I didn’t used to know Charlie very well,” he began. “But he was always one of my heroes. From the time I heard people calling him the best Hogwarts Seeker in fifty years, I was hooked. Then I saw him with those dragons he loved so much. I never took much of a liking to dragons, and to see the amazing care and attention he gave them completely baffled but awed me.” Harry paused, searching his brain for the right words.
“Then he came home at… at the beginning of the war. I got to know him better and witness his flying abilities myself. I don’t believe I have ever personally known a better flyer. He had his fair share of the twins’ humour, and he loved to make people laugh.
"For days I've felt responsible for Charlie’s involvement, and then death, in the war.” He paused again to fight the tears that threatened to spill over. Suddenly a realisation dawned upon him. “I would have, and I know Ron would have, gladly taken that curse if we knew the alternative was for it to take Charlie. But I think to constantly insist it should have been us rather than him belittles the sacrifice he did make. Instead of focusing on what we believe we should have done, we should focus on what Charlie did do.”
Harry’s resolve almost crumpled upon seeing Hermione collapse onto Colin’s shoulder, crying her heart out silently. He pulled his eyes away from Hermione and the fell onto Ginny. Instead of seeing the expected heartbreak, he saw a mixture of sadness and… pride?
Ginny furiously wiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks and gave Harry an encouraging smile. Harry’s heart swelled at the encouragement, and he drew another deep breath to calm his emotions before continuing.
“Ron, Fred and George became my friends before they became like my brothers. But I found in Charlie, I think, a brother before a friend. And that will stay with me forever.”
As he resumed his seat, he heard a fresh burst of tears and sniffles from Molly’s direction, followed by a mumbled “What a lovely boy. He loved Charlie so much. Oh, what a dear, sweet boy.”
~*~
The Weasleys had retired back to the Burrow for lunch, followed by a quiet afternoon. Everyone else had left the Burrow for their own homes, except Harry and Hermione of course. Ginny and Hermione had decided on a bit of girly bonding time in their bedroom, while Harry and Ron opted out and decided to lie out on the grassy lawn for a bit of peace and quiet, deciding the house was unlikely to stay quiet for long.
Ron squinted slightly and looked over the trees from his position on the ground.
"Harry, that's not Hedwig is it?"
Harry followed Ron's gaze to the white owl that was flying towards the Burrow. Harry shook his head.
"No. That one looks like it has some grey under its wings."
The owl descended and flew to the kitchen window of the Burrow. Ron groaned and rolled over before standing up and walking over to the owl, taking the letters off its feet. He turned to walk back to Harry but glanced back at the owl, which was glaring at him.
"What do you want? Off you go."
The owl continued to glare at Ron. Ron rolled his eyes and pushed the window open, knowing it was unlocked and that Molly kept her owl feed just inside it.
"Oh fine, in you go then. Don't eat it all," Ron admonished, before returning his gaze back to the letters in his hand.
"What are they?" Harry asked as Ron resumed his place beside him. Harry was still mentally and emotionally working through the funeral and what he had said, and what he'd felt during Bill's speech, and wasn't really in the mood for any new news.
"It's... they're summons," Ron said, slightly confused.
"Summons?" Harry asked, curiosity climbing its way through his plethora of emotions. "What for? Who for?"
"Well, this one is for... Charlie," he said faintly. Harry sat up, enraged.
"WHAT?" He ripped the letter out of Ron's grasp, fury tearing through his veins. "Are these what I think they are?Summons for the Wizengamot?"
Ron nodded his head and gazed at the letters before him.
"If these are all the same thing, there's one for Bill too, and Dad… and Harry, there’s one for you too." Ron’s face was expressionless as he tried to process it. Harry on the other hand was infuriated.
“What are they playing at? Do they not know Charlie’s dead or something? Don’t the Ministry Departments talk to each other? What on earth is Charlie getting a summons for anyway? What’s he done except help kill Lord bloody Voldemort?!”
Ron licked his lips and hesitated, before he took the letter back from Harry in an uncharacteristic show of calmness. He re-read the letter before him.
“That’s just it, Harry,” he said.
“What’s just it??”
“He helped kill Lord Voldemort.”
For a moment Harry was so taken aback by Ron saying Voldemort’s name without flinching that he forgot what Ron had just said. He sat for a moment before processing Ron’s words.
“They sent him a summons because he helped do what they’ve been trying to do for thirty years?”
“He used the Avada Kedavra curse, Harry. So… so did you… and I know Marcus and Bill did too… I don’t know which curse Dad must have used to get a summons.”
Harry flopped onto his back again, staring at the sky in frustration before words spewed forth in anger.
“They were Death Eaters! Does the Ministry not understand that? And VOLDEMORT! Ron, am I seriously going to be tried, and possibly sent to Azkaban for killing LORD VOLDEMORT?”
The thought of his friends being sent to Azkaban for aiding him in his job to kill Voldemort enraged Harry. He hadn’t felt such anger since looking Voldemort in the eye and killing him. Suddenly Harry’s emotions came crashing down. His deep breathing subsided and he glared at the happy sun.
“I didn’t want to kill anyone, Ron,” he whispered. He wanted to spill all his thoughts out- how it had been eating him away, the fact that he had killed a person, yet at the same time, hadn’t killed him soon enough. But Harry kept his mouth closed. He didn’t need to burden Ron any further. It was all over. These feelings would disappear soon enough. “Show me that,” Harry said suddenly, rolling over and pulling the letter addressed to him from the pile.
He sat up and ripped the envelope open, ignoring the Ministry emblem as it floated to the ground.
Dear Mr Harry Potter
As of this day, Thursday 16th December 1999, you have hereby been charged with the following crimes:
~ Using the “Avada Kedavra” curse with malicious intent
~ Grievous bodily harm of Amycus Carrow
~ Intentional torture of Thomas Marvolo Riddle
~ Murder of Thomas Marvolo Riddle
A delegation of Aurors have been sent to your current residence to escort you to the Ministry for Magic to await your trial before the Wizengamot. Your trial will be at 11am tomorrow morning, Friday 17th December 1999.
Sincerely,
Rufus Scrimgeour,
Minister for Magic
“You can use the Avada Kedavra curse without malicious intent?” Harry asked. He glanced in Ron’s direction. It was like a switch had been flicked in his brain. His face was contorted in disbelief mixed with horror.
“What the hell is this?” he sputtered. “They are charging you with killing Thomas Marvolo Riddle? Are they trying to make him sound more human or something?”
“I have no idea,” Harry muttered darkly. “But I do know we need to talk to your dad now. And I want Remus, Tonks and Moody here, too.”