12: Funereal Progress
Harry had no time to think. A dark suited undertaker stepped into the Creeveys’ garden and called his name. When he identified himself he was politely but firmly separated from Ginny and ushered through the house and into the street. Ten cars were parked along the road outside the Creeveys’ house. Harry was escorted to the car directly behind the hearse, where he joined the other pall-bearers and the Creeveys. Colin’s immediate family sat in the back seats; he sat alongside Justin and Jack, in the central row of seats. They sat in nervous silence, listening to Mrs Creevey weeping while the other cars were filled.
The cortege moved off down the narrow street and onto the main road following the hearse in a slow procession. As they rode, Harry thought about Colin. As Ginny had reminded him, he’d need to say something when he put the galleon onto the gravestone. But what could he say? Why hadn’t he thought about this earlier? Why had he said yes to Luna? She was so much better at this sort of thing than he was. Fretting over the duties he had to perform, he wished that Ginny was sitting next to him.
As they drove along the quiet streets people stopped and respectfully watched the procession pass. The cars passed slowly through a small marketplace. A war memorial and an old stone building stood at its centre. A white plastic sign, looking out of place on the weathered stone, identified the building as a “Public Library”. The buildings along the route through the centre of the village were stone built and slate roofed. The long-gardened brick built Victorian terraced house they had just left was modern in comparison.
The cortege left the marketplace and, after a few hundred yards, turned right up a very narrow lane. An old stone terrace stood on one side of the street; the small front gardens of these houses were a riot of colour. High stone walls lined the other side of the street. The cars stopped. They stretched almost the entire length of the lane, completely blocking it. The journey had taken little more than five minutes.
A small lichgate of weathered black oak stood at the end of the lane. Its oak shingle roof was green with moss and lichen. The Rector, his curate and the verger stood attentively on one side of the gate; on the other stood Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall. The Headmistress wore an extremely old fashioned looking high collared black dress. Just inside the gate were over two dozen soberly dressed Muggles, several were youths of Colin’s age.
The weathered grey stone church stood some sixty feet beyond the gate. The graveyard, the location of the recent combat, was out of sight on the other side of the church, overlooking the fields and hills.
The funeral director opened the car doors and discretely took charge. Harry soon found himself standing behind Dennis Creevey, and alongside Jack Sloper, shouldering the weight of the coffin. Jack, Justin and Harry were all about the same height, the coffin rested easily on their shoulders. Dennis supported his corner of the load with an upstretched arm. An undertaker stood in front, another behind and two more were alongside. Harry was astonished at how light his burden was.
The combination of fierce concentration on the job he had to do, and worry about the speech he would have to make, completely unprepared, meant that for Harry the service itself was over quickly. He paid little attention to the Rector’s words; though from those few he caught, it seemed that the man must have known Colin.
Little Colin, who’d survived a basilisk attack in his first year, was dead; gone. Harry would never again hear him call “All right, Harry”; never again be pestered by his constant questions and camera flashes. What had he done to deserve such loyalty from Colin, or from anyone in the DA? He was in tears as he stood next to the open grave with the other pall-bearers, watching the coffin being lowered into the ground. As he stepped away from the graveside to rejoin the mourners he felt Ginny’s hand slip into his own. Her presence calmed and relaxed him. He wiped his eyes, hearing only snatches of Professor McGonagall’s words of praise for Colin. He was vaguely aware of Mrs Creevey, and many others, weeping around him. Professor McGonagall was having difficulty in finishing her speech.
‘I understand that one of the students would also like to say a few words,’ Professor McGonagall announced in conclusion, ‘Mr Potter.’
Harry roused himself from his thoughts with a start. Ginny squeezed his hand tightly then released him. He stepped forwards and walked up to stand alongside the Rector, into the space vacated by Minerva McGonagall.
‘Just take your time, lad,’ the Rector murmured, ‘if you want to stop, that’s fine. I can take over for you.’
Harry smiled gratefully at the middle-aged Muggle before turning to face the mourners.
‘Colin Creevey was in the year below me,’ he began, ‘I have been trying to think of a way to describe him. One word describes Colin; enthusiastic. Colin, it seemed to me, was enthusiastic about almost everything: sport, photography, his school lessons, and his friends. Colin was prepared to do anything, prepared to help anyone. He was our housemate, our classmate, our friend.’
‘Almost three years ago, a group of students formed a …’ Harry hesitated, ‘… a study group. We thought that we needed extra tutoring in one subject, so we met regularly to help each other learn.’ The DA and Professor McGonagall smiled sorrowfully at Harry’s carefully chosen words.
‘Colin, and his brother Dennis, were among the youngest of us.’ Harry continued, he paused; he’d lost his train of thought. He tried again, before the Rector intervened. ‘We are here to salute brave, enthusiastic Colin; who always wanted to help others; who always tried to help others; who gave his life to help others. He wanted to make the world a better place, but he isn’t here to enjoy it with us. We can never repay our debt to him.’ Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his carefully folded handkerchief.
‘One of our group, Hermione,’ out of the corner of his eye Harry saw her start at his mention of her name, ‘made us tokens, membership medals she’d created herself.’
‘Colin’s is here,’ Harry raised his handkerchief and stepped forward to the gravestone. There was a neat, galleon-sized indentation in it. Thank you, Luna, he thought, suddenly realising what she’d been doing at the graveside after the combat. He pulled the galleon from the handkerchief and Colin’s picture burst out.
‘Luna, a remarkable source of wisdom,’ Luna looked surprised, whether at his mention of her name, or his description of her, Harry was unsure, ‘suggested that Colin’s stay with him, stay here.’
Keeping one hand in his jacket, holding his wand, he bent forwards and carefully pushed the galleon into the hole. He tried to discretely cast a permanent sticking charm on it. The hairs on his hand and arm stood up as he did so. It seemed to Harry that every witch and wizard in the cemetery was also surreptitiously casting the charm.
‘Goodbye, Colin,’ Harry said; his voice catching in his throat. He stepped back, away from the graveside. Ginny stepped forwards and touched the galleon.
‘I’ll miss you, Colin,’ she said. She then stepped back and took Harry’s hand.
‘You were brilliant,’ she whispered, hugging him tearfully.
Behind her, one after another, every member of Dumbledore’s Army stepped forwards to touch the golden galleon. Lavender, who could not reach the galleon from her wheelchair, was lifted out of it by Seamus and Dean and gently carried to the gravestone.
The last member of the DA, Luna, finally stepped up, touched the galleon and spoke loudly and clearly.
‘You were a very nice boy, Colin. You never teased me and you always tried to help.’
As if by agreement, Colin’s year group waited until Luna had finished before following. The last of the students was a distraught Fenella Gray, who left the graveside sobbing uncontrollably. Fenella was being supported by Jack Sloper and the round-faced girl. When this final personal act of remembrance was over, the Rector brought the service to a close and began moving among the grieving relatives. He went first to speak to Mr and Mrs Creevey. Harry, hand in hand with Ginny, looked around the graveyard, silently watching the mourners, taking in the scene.
‘Mr Potter, Miss Weasley,’ a clipped voice rang out; Professor McGonagall strode towards them, wiping her eyes. ‘Well done Mr Potter, very well done.’
‘I’m glad to see that you have begun to embrace life again,’ she continued, smiling benignly at them.
‘Thank you, Professor,’ Harry mumbled.
‘Thanks Professor,’ Ginny smiled sadly.
‘I have already apologised to Mr and Mrs Creevey and made my farewells,’ the Professor continued. ‘I will not be attending the supper. I really must be getting back to Hogwarts. There is so much to be done if we are to re-open on the first of September. I will, of course, see you at tomorrow’s funerals. Look after yourselves.’ She gave them a polite nod, turned, and strode away from the graveside.
As Harry watched Professor McGonagall leave he noticed a photographer standing next to the church. Thinking back to their arrival he realised that the photographer had been there, too. Harry sought out someone to ask. Mr and Mrs Creevey and Dennis were surrounded by relatives. Dennis was crying unashamedly. He was being consoled by an elderly couple. Through his tears Dennis saw them and beckoned them over. Before Harry could ask about the photographer, Dennis spoke.
‘This is my Nan and Granddad Creevey,’ he sniffed. The elderly man was short, stooped, and weather-beaten, his wife thin and bird-like. They each shook Harry’s hand.
‘You spoke well, lad,’ the old man said, ‘were you a good friend of Colin’s?’
‘Not as good as I should have been,’ Harry admitted sadly.
‘Colin was in my year, not Harry’s,’ Ginny told Dennis’s grandparents. She began telling them her memories, stories about Colin that Harry had never heard. She was a much better talker than he was. Grateful for her presence, Harry listened to her in admiration.
‘It looks like we’re going to the Hall,’ Dennis observed. Harry followed Dennis’ gaze. Everyone was gathering outside the church, preparing to leave. Harry and Ginny joined the throng and found themselves behind Colin’s grandparents, parents and Dennis walking down the narrow path to the lichgate. Harry looked at it with interest. The path was narrow, uneven and flanked by dozens of ancient, lichen covered and weathered gravestones. Many dated back to the seventeenth century.
He had no recollection of walking this route, carrying Colin to his grave. He had been distracted, grieving, concentrating; they all had. If they hadn’t found and fought them, the Death Eaters could have killed several people, dozens probably, and Apparated away. He shuddered at the thought.
Harry realised that he’d arrived at his destination when Ginny pulled him to a halt outside an old stone public hall; Wolsingham Church Masonic Hall, according to the sign above the door.
‘What are you worrying about now, Harry?’ Ginny whispered as they climbed the steps into the hall.
‘The ambush,’ Harry replied, ‘a Death Eater attack in that cemetery would have been devastating if it had succeeded.’
‘But it didn’t, because of you.’
‘Because of the DA,’ Harry corrected.
‘Who knew exactly what to do, because of you,’ Ginny told him forcefully. Harry smiled at her; she was determined to give him the credit, although everyone else had fought bravely, too. He ushered her up two steps to the door to the hall.
They entered a small foyer, from which open double doors led into a large hall. Inside were several tables laden with an impressive cold buffet. There were thick cut home-cured hams, slices of cold roast beef, pies, pickles, chutneys and salads. At the far end of the hall was a large hatch through to a kitchen. Two matronly ladies were pouring cups of tea and setting them on trays.
Mr Creevey stepped forwards to stand next to the hatch. He looked nervous. As the room filled the murmurs of conversation subsided, there was an expectant silence.
‘My wife, Dennis, and I,’ Mr Creevey began, ‘would like to thank you all for coming. For paying your respects …’ He stopped, weeping, unable to continue. Dennis stepped alongside his father and put an arm around his shoulder.
‘… for paying your respects to Colin, my brother. There’s food and drinks, please help yourselves and remember Colin,’ Dennis took over from his father, ‘remember my not very big brother.’
An embarrassed and disorderly queue formed for tea. No one wanted to be first. A low, nervous mutter of conversation rose and filled the hall.
‘Shall we get some food?’ Ginny asked.
‘You go, I want to ask Dennis something,’ Harry told her, noticing that Colin’s brother was standing alone and hurrying over to speak to him.
‘I was surprised to see a photographer at the funeral, Dennis,’ observed Harry.
‘It was someone from the Weardale Mercury,’ Dennis explained, ‘the local paper. It was news when Colin went to … got his scholarship … and when I got mine. Everyone here just goes to Wolsingham Secondary. The paper phoned and asked. Mam and Dad said it would be okay. We wanted people to remember Colin. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘It’s fine, Dennis,’ nodded Harry, his concern’s assuaged. He had no problems with the Muggle press.
‘Ginny’s got some food for you,’ Dennis nodded towards Ginny, who was now standing with Fenella and Luna. She had collected two plates of ham, beef, green salad, potato salad, pickles and some buttered baps. Harry excused himself and went to join them. After thanking Ginny, and taking a bite of ham, Harry turned to Fenella.
‘What we talked about … before,’ he asked the Slytherin girl, ‘the photographic equipment you got for Colin, can I tell people, or do you want it kept quiet?’
‘Who … who would you tell?’ stuttered Fenella. She was slouching again, trying to be smaller than him. Luna listened to the conversation curiously, staring at both Harry and Fenella.
‘The DA,’ Harry told her, ‘and Kingsley. If I ask them to say nothing to anyone else, it will remain a secret, I guarantee it.’
‘Ginny’s small, you’re not,’ Luna interrupted, ‘you should stand up straight and be happy with who you are. You’re really quite striking, you know.’ Fenella slumped even further at Luna’s observation, her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. There was the usual embarrassed silence which followed one of Luna’s more personal and pertinent observations. Harry took pity on the Slytherin girl.
‘Luna has the gift of forthright honesty,’ he smiled apologetically at Fenella, ‘you should listen to her.’
‘Can I tell people?’ he asked again. ‘Most of the DA will want to thank you.’
‘My … my father will … will kill me if he finds out,’ Fenella stammered as she slowly straightened her body and knees. She wasn’t as tall as Ron, or Terry, not quite.
‘I doubt it,’ Ginny said, ‘having a family member who helped defeat Voldemort-’
‘Tom Riddle,’ Harry interrupted. Ginny shrugged, Fenella had blanched at Ginny’s casual mention of the name.
‘… defeat Tom Riddle,’ Ginny continued, ‘will probably be enough to keep at least two Death Eaters out of Azkaban.’
‘My father was not a Death Eater …’ Fenella began softly, her voice little more than a whisper, ‘… he worked for the Chief Secretary to the Minister, Madam Umbridge. A few weeks before term started he told me about her plans for a Muggleborn Registration Commission, her plan to round up Muggleborns and confiscate their wands. Colin was my friend. All I did was send an owl to warn him. He contacted me later, during term time. I bought developing potions and sent them to him. At Christmas I…’ her already quiet voice dropped in volume so much that Harry had to strain his ears to hear her, ‘… borrowed some official Ministry stationary from my father and sent it to Colin. I’m not brave like you, Mr Potter, I just tried to help my friend from the camera club, and now he’s dead.’
‘You saved lives by helping Colin,’ Harry told her, ‘people should know; his friends and family should know.’
‘Tell them,’ Fenella agreed, suddenly determined. She stood tall. Luna was right, Harry realised; while she wasn’t beautiful, when she stood up straight, Fenella Gray was neither as frumpy, nor as plain as he’d first thought.
Harry and Ginny left Fenella with Luna and sought out Justin. The four Hufflepuffs were standing together, so Harry told them all. Hannah and Justin immediately walked over to thank Fenella. Both hugged her, to the girl’s obvious embarrassment.
‘Let the others know,’ Harry asked Ernie and Susan, ‘We’ll tell Kingsley.’
They found the Minister talking to Mr and Mrs Creevey. Harry waited politely at one side; he did not want to interrupt.
‘Fenella’s got lots of friends now,’ Ginny observed. Sure enough, several members of the DA were surrounding the tall Slytherin girl, including a smiling Leanne Cowper.
‘Did you want to speak to me, Harry?’ Kingsley asked. Harry nodded, and passed the information on to Kingsley and the Creeveys, too.
‘That explains the sudden popularity of Abraxus Grey’s daughter,’ Kingsley said. ‘He’s currently under investigation for his involvement in the Muggleborn Registration Commission. I wonder if she could convince him to co-operate with us. A lot of their files appear to have gone missing.’
‘I have some news for you, too, Harry,’ Kingsley continued. He led Harry and Ginny away from the Creeveys and lowered his voice, ‘Miss Skeeter has already told us to whom she sent a copy of the funeral information. I ordered Robards to organise a raid. It should be happening as we speak.’
‘Now?’ Harry was disappointed.
‘’You can’t do everything yourself, Harry,’ advised Kingsley. Ginny nodded in agreement.
‘And you don’t have to, not any longer,’ she added.
The noise level in the hall was slowly rising. People were splitting up into groups, talking, gossiping and catching up on news. Harry and Ginny left the Minister and walked around the room hand in hand, trying to talk to everyone. They had just left Terry Boot and Susan Bones, both of whom were very interested in a career in the Auror office when Katie Bell approached them. She was being watched by Lee and Alicia. All three looked nervous. Alicia was holding Lee’s hand.
‘Leanne and I have set up a charity,’ Katie began, ‘the Society for the Assistance of Muggleborns. I’m asking everyone in the DA for a donation. I was going to ask you, Harry, until I heard what you said to Skeeter. The amount you asked her for, five thousand Galleons, was donated anonymously on Monday.’ Katie watched Harry carefully, so did Ginny.
‘Presumably the donor didn’t want anyone to know who he was,’ said Harry. Carefully not looking at either girl but concentrating his gaze at a nail in the wooden floor.
‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Ginny asked. He looked at her nervously, glanced around the room, and nodded.
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he begged.
‘You’re crazy, Harry,’ Katie said, ‘but thank you,’ she kissed his cheek. ‘That one donation more than doubled our funds; I don’t suppose you would like to be our patron?’
Harry was stunned at the suggestion; confused, he looked at Ginny.
‘It would help you a lot, wouldn’t it?’ Ginny asked Katie.
‘Definitely,’ Katie replied, ‘it would raise our income from donations if we could just put your name on our letters, Harry.’
‘I don’t want to make lots of personal appearances,’ he mumbled, ‘Okay?’
Katie hugged him and kissed him again.
‘Three kisses in one day,’ noted Ginny acidly. Katie began to apologise; then saw the mischief in Ginny’s eyes. She looked nervously at Harry, took a deep breath and asked:
‘What you told Skeeter … the interview, would you do that, too?’
‘I’d rather it was someone other than Rita Skeeter,’ Harry admitted, ‘but I meant what I said.’
‘What about being interviewed by Lee?’ Katie asked, motioning for Lee and Alicia to approach.
‘I, er, don’t suppose you heard of a pirate wireless programme called PotterWatch, Harry,’ Lee began.
‘I only managed to hear it once,’ Harry told him. ‘You did a good job, Lee.’
‘Alicia did it really, she’s the technical expert, I just talk,’ said Lee modestly. ‘We’ve been offered work by the Wizarding Wireless Network. I’m getting my own show next month. I’d like my first show to be the last PotterWatch, too. If I can persuade the network to pay Katie’s charity the money you asked for, would you let me interview you?’
Harry looked at the hopeful faces surrounding him. Katie would get another large donation, Lee would be able to start his broadcast career in style, Ginny was nodding enthusiastically. He was trapped, but he didn’t really mind.
‘Okay,’ he sighed, ‘just let me know when.’
It looked like Lee and Katie were about to whoop with joy.
‘We’re at a funeral,’ Alicia hissed, Lee smiled and hugged her.
‘She keeps me straight. Every bloke needs someone like that,’ he said.
‘Not Harry,’ corrected Ginny, ‘he needs someone to lead him astray.’
Harry quickly agreed details of the interview with Lee. When they had finished, Ginny nodded towards a quiet corner of the room. Ron and Hermione were the only ones there; it was obvious from their stance that they were arguing.
‘We’d better go,’ Ginny said. She grabbed Harry’s hand and they approached Ron and Hermione in trepidation.
‘I promised them, no magic …’ Hermione was hissing when they approached. She glared at Ron and then at Harry.
‘Hermione, I want to help,’ Harry began.
‘We want to help,’ corrected Ginny.
‘You don’t understand, Harry,’ Hermione sobbed, ‘my parents hate me for what I did.’
‘I’m sure they don’t,’ said Ginny reasonably, ‘they may be disappointed in you, angry even, but they’re your parents, they love you anyway. Mum and Dad never stopped loving Perce.’
‘Amazing really, seeing that he’s such a prat,’ observed Ron, ‘He...’
His sister gave him what Harry thought of as her “Molly” glare. Ron immediately shut up.
‘I can understand why they’re upset,’ said Harry. ‘What you did was wrong, wasn’t it? You know that now.’
Hermione, her pale face now red and blotchy from crying, nodded sadly.
‘I don’t see the problem,’ Ron grumbled, ‘it’s not like she imperiused them, is it?’
‘It is, Ron, that’s exactly the point,’ explained Harry. ‘The imperious curse forces people to do something that they would not normally do. What Hermione did…’
Ron was thunderstruck, ‘… forced her Mum and Dad to do something they didn’t want to do,’ he finished Harry’s sentence for him. Ron looked compassionately at his girlfriend; she threw herself into his arms. ‘I never thought of it that way before. Neither did you; did you Hermione? At least, not until after we’d found your parents.’
‘They’re right, I brainwashed them,’ she sobbed into Ron’s chest.
‘We’ll help, Hermione,’ Harry promised.
‘How?’ she cried, ‘what can you do? This is a family problem, you can’t interfere.’
‘You’re right, it is a family problem,’ Harry told her, ‘but we’re your family, too. So are Mr and Mrs Weasley, we need to talk to them.’
‘But…’ Hermione began
‘Harry’s right,’ interrupted Ron, ‘Mum and Dad will help, after tomorrow.’
‘And after tomorrow,’ Ginny added, hugging her friend, ‘Mum will want to keep busy. We’ll talk to them tomorrow night, okay?’
‘But…’ Hermione tried again.
‘They’re your family, too, Hermione,’ Ron told her, ‘they will help.’
They were still formulating their plans at seven o’clock, when a bus arrived to take Colin’s classmates back up the dale; to the barn where Portkeys had been provided to take them home. Kingsley had been gone for over an hour but Harry knew, because he’d checked with the Minister before he’d left, that there were still at least six Aurors guarding the hall.
Harry made a point of saying goodbye to Fenella Gray as she left for the bus. He asked her, as he was certain that Kingsley had already done, to try to persuade her father to help the enquiry into the Muggleborn Registration Committee. Stuttering and apologising, Fenella mumbled a promise to try.
After watching the bus drive off, Dumbledore’s Army, too, prepared to leave. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione watched their friends leave in twos and threes. Most walked up the lane and through the churchyard to find a secluded spot from which to Apparate.
The Hufflepuffs were the first to leave. They all left together, Hannah and Justin hand in hand. The majority of the Ravenclaws, all but Luna, followed. Cho ignored Ginny’s glare and gave Harry a goodbye kiss on his cheek.
‘You take care of yourself, Harry,’ Cho told him, brushing away a tear. ‘I’ll see you all again tomorrow morning. Your brother’s funeral is at ten, isn’t it?’ she asked Ron. When he nodded his confirmation she leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, too, ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Ron, Ginny,’ she pulled out a handkerchief and was escorted out by Michael and Anthony, who nodded stiffly and formally before saying, ‘see you tomorrow.’
‘I’ll see you all at the funeral, too.’ said burly Terry Boot, who had waited until last, ‘Minister Shacklebolt has asked Susan and me to come in to meet Mr Robards in a week’s time. We could be joining you in Auror training soon, Harry. Let’s make sure that we stop anything like this ever happening again.’ He shook Harry’s hand firmly, then shook Ron’s, Ginny’s and Hermione’s, and followed his friends from the hall.
‘I want to be an Auror, too,’ Lavender Brown announced as she followed Terry towards the door. ‘But no-one has asked me, for some reason.’ She glared at Harry. Seamus Finnegan, who was pushing her wheelchair looked at her in disbelief.
‘You can’t,’ he told her, ‘not until you’re better.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t do, Seamus Finnegan,’ Lavender snapped. ‘Terry’s right, we need to make sure this doesn’t happen again. I’m going to join the Auror office, or die trying. We’ll see you all tomorrow, bye.’
With that, Lavender left, followed by Seamus and the Patil twins who had quietly exchanged horrified glances at their friend’s outburst.
‘Scary, isn’t she,’ Ron muttered as they watched them leave. ‘Still, she’ll never be an Auror, I’m safe.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ observed Hermione.
‘Neither would I,’ Ginny agreed, ‘she’s a steel fist in a frilly pink lace glove, that one.’
Hermione smiled, the first real smile Harry had seen since she had returned from Australia, and agreed with Ginny.
Ron’s face fell, ‘The last thing I want is to end up working with her,’ he admitted, ‘still, she might never get better.’
‘Ron!’ Hermione was outraged. ‘Are you really hoping that she’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life?’
Ron’s face fell, ‘No, not really,’ he looked ashamed of himself, ‘I just feel awkward whenever she’s around. If she did get into the Auror office I don’t think that I could work with her,’ he warned Harry.
Harry and his friends then took their turn to bid farewell to the Creeveys.
‘I’m coming to collect Dennis, tomorrow,’ George announced. He’d been standing talking to the Creeveys for some time, ‘to take him to Fred’s funeral. Take care of yourself, shrimp,’ he told Colin’s brother. ‘Remember, don’t do anything stupid. Be sensible, like me.’
Dennis managed a feeble smile in reply, ‘Good advice, George,’ he sniffed, ‘make sure that you follow it, too.’ They both burst into tears and hugged each other tightly. Harry found himself overcome, once again. He and his friends bade the Creeveys a tearful farewell. They followed Luna and Dean who were hand in hand. They all walked out from the hall and back up into the churchyard.
Safely out of sight from the Muggles, Dean released Luna’s hand, whispered goodbye, and leant forwards meaningfully. His attempt to kiss her failed. She appeared not to realise what he intended, waved to Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys shouted, ‘Bye, everyone,’ and Disapparated, leaving Dean stumbling forwards. George burst into howls of laughter.
‘Just grab her by the shoulders and plant one on her,’ George advised a discomfited and embarrassed Dean, ‘that’s what I did, yesterday.’
Dean looked at George in a mix of jealousy and horror. George took pity on him.
‘It didn’t work though; she still wouldn’t give me that potion recipe. C’mon kids, lets get back home.’
Grave Days by Northumbrian
Chapter Notes: Harry and his friends attend the first of many funerals.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks (in alphabetical order to Amelíe, Andrea and Becca for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.