20th July 1995
"It was war when I met Albus for the first time." Moody stated briskly. He stood proudly behind the lectern in the Great Hall, his magical eye scanning the gathered assembly for the funeral of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry sneaked a glance himself. The funeral seemed to be taking forever. They'd already sat through a speech from Cornelius and one from an aged Chinese wizard who had spoken about Albus's contributions abroad.
There was no evidence of the battle that had waged within Hogwarts' walls, although the grounds and particularly the Quidditch pitch still bore scars. The castle had been repaired though; flagstones gleamed; the walls stood solid and unbroken; priceless tapestries and portraits restored or replaced.
The Great Hall itself looked magnificent. The illusionary sky above reflected the bright Summer's day outside. The banners of the Hogwarts' houses hung suspended by magic in the centre of the room. The windows gleamed, sunlight streaming in to catch the dust motes dancing in the rays.
The usual tables had been removed and a semi-circular seating area arranged facing where the Professors' table would usually be. Only the table was gone and Dumbledore's cherry wood coffin lay upon a covered stand.
Harry and Sirius sat in the centre of the circle in the chairs designated for family. As Dumbledore's magical heir Harry was given the status of an honorary grandson. Aberforth sat beside Sirius. Dumbledore's brother had eschewed any notion of swapping. Aberforth had claimed his brother would have wanted Harry and not himself taking pride of place. Harry had the unsettling feeling that Aberforth spoke truthfully. Harry leaned closer to Sirius taking comfort in the steady presence of his father.
Minerva sat on Harry's other side – her place designated by her role as the Potter Regent Apparent. It also seemed fitting given her years of friendship with the Headmaster.
The seats beyond her were taken up with political figures – Fudge, Croaker and Bones but also figures who had been part of Dumbledore's international stage – Prime Ministers and Ambassadors. Harry had dutifully greeted them all.
The staff of Hogwarts took the row behind the front; the members of the Wizengamot beyond them with their families. Harry felt a pang of unhappiness at being separated by protocol from everyone but Sirius and Minerva. He especially missed Hermione. His hand sneaked up to touch the necklace he wore and his unease dissipated under the flow of love he received.
He gave a quiet sigh but wasn't surprised when Sirius leaned his shoulder against Harry's providing a silent show of loving support.
"Great wizards do great things." Moody continued his eulogy. "I saw Albus take down an entire platoon of magical beasts; I saw him liberate a Polish town from dark forces alone but for a few men who stood with him. I saw him stand tall against the darkest wizard of that time and defeat him with the Light. I saw how much it hurt him to do that; to face his former childhood love and know him as a monster."
Aberforth huffed but he didn't say anything.
"In the years of peace which followed, Albus did his best to never take advantage of the political power he wielded as the victor. He accepted his political positions unwillingly but dutifully. He believed his role there was to keep stability; to maintain a status quo between those who would seek to drive us forward and those who wanted to remain standing in the past. He would say he wanted nothing more than to be a schoolteacher, to impart his knowledge to the next generation; a role he played for many years here at Hogwarts." Moody looked around the room as he paused.
Harry wondered how true that was; had Dumbledore really only wanted to be a teacher?
As though he had heard his thoughts, Moody sighed.
"Great wizards do great things but their mistakes are also greater, and Albus's greatest mistake was to ignore the problem of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Whether Riddle was ever redeemable, ever able to be saved from the darkness within him, we shall never know. But Albus saw the danger of the young powerful Riddle and did nothing."
There was a hushed silence in the room as they all absorbed Moody's blunt observation.
"He neither took the lad under his wing one powerful wizard to another nor did he challenge him." Moody continued. "Was it his place? As a mere schoolteacher perhaps Albus could be forgiven for his lack of action – even though the teachers who excel are those who care for more than simply whether their students' essays and work meet the standards. But even if Albus wanted to be only a schoolteacher he was not. He was a powerful political figure; he was a powerful wizard. He had styled himself as the benevolent wise leader of the Light. Perhaps he had a greater duty."
He stopped as some of the audience shifted uncomfortable with the notion of criticising the dead.
"Or perhaps it was simply Fate. Because how he also acted in regards to the architect of Riddle's downfall was to be another of Albus's mistakes. He mishandled a prophecy and the child of that prophecy. He made decisions which were not his to make; he ignored his duty of care to the child and the child's rightful guardian."
Harry looked down unable to bear Moody's words.
"So his mistakes were as great as his triumphs but in the end this is what I will remember of Albus Dumbledore," Moody's gruff voice echoed roughly in the chamber, thick with grief, "he held the line; he put himself between a horde of dark creatures and this castle to defend his school and her legacy; he held the line. And in the end, he offered his own life for those he had wronged. In this I believe he was redeemed."
Minerva gave a quiet sob beside him and Harry reached over to take her hand, wrapping it in his. She squeezed back gratefully.
"He was never just a schoolteacher." Moody stared out at the assembly. "When we remember Albus Dumbledore we will remember his mistakes and his triumphs, and know he was also a great wizard."
There was a respectful silence as Moody made his way from the lectern to his chair.
Griselda got to her feet. "Those invited to the internment at the lake should follow me. All others should remain in the hall where the elves will see to your comfort." She flicked her wand and the coffin disappeared.
Harry got to his feet and allowed Sirius to chivvy him across the hall, following Griselda through the doors to the back, down the corridor and out of the doors that had welcomed him as a first year. They strolled down the path to the lake, a small troupe of people who Minerva had determined.
Of the official Wizengamot and Ministry party, only Griselda, the Minister, Amelia and Bertie were invited. The Hogwarts' staff were all present, Hagrid blowing noisily into an oversized handkerchief. There were a handful of people from the Order – Snape was included in that number as were the Weasleys. The remainder of the House of Black were at the rear; they were considered family because of their familial relationship with Harry, Dumbledore's heir. In his unwanted role, Harry walked behind Griselda in the procession flanked by Sirius and Aberforth. Minerva had fallen back to lead her staff.
They came to a halt in the small grove by the lake which Minerva had chosen. It was a patch of land which barely held their number comfortably. The Forbidden Forest was to their back; the lake to the front, the water lapping on the steep bank close by. The grave stood ready to receive the coffin, a mound of dirt beside it. A white slab of marble would be placed over it, with a golden plaque engraved simply with Dumbledore's name, and the years of his birth and death. Aberforth had refused any other memorial.
Griselda pointed her wand at the grave and Dumbledore's coffin appeared. She slowly lowered into the grave before turning and silently casting for the dirt to cover it.
"We say goodbye to Albus Dumbledore and return his body to the Earth." Griselda intoned solemnly as they watched the dirt slowly filling the grave. "Bon voyage on your next great adventure, Albus."
Harry was grateful for the heavy weight of Sirius's hand on his shoulder providing him with an anchor. He really was going to miss the old wizard and his throat closed up on a surge of emotion.
Griselda finally lifted the marble stone into place and as it settled into the ground, Harry felt his heart ache with renewed grief at the finality of it. Sirius shifted his hold, sliding his arm around Harry's shoulder and firmly tucking him against his side. Harry felt his eyes sting with the prickle of tears.
Griselda began to lead people away, and Harry was aware of the crowd of mourners slowly thinning. He stayed where he was; rooted to the spot as though his feet had been frozen. He felt Hermione approach on his free side and her hand sought his. He grasped it gratefully, dimly aware there were only a few of them left standing beside the grave.
Minerva stooped and cast a spell. The marble stone was suddenly surrounded by a pretty border of transfigured white roses. She sniffed loudly. "You were the one who taught me that spell, Albus. You were a good teacher." Her Scottish brogue was thick with emotion. "I will miss you."
Aberforth took a weary step forward. "You made things right in the end. Perhaps that's all that should matter. Goodbye, brother." He offered his arm to Minerva who took it and allowed him to escort her away.
Harry was left with Hermione on one side, Sirius on the other, and he sensed Remus just behind them. They stayed there, standing silently together.
Harry stared at the marble stone. He remembered the dream he'd had when he'd been recovering and somehow it eased his grief. Dumbledore was off on his next great adventure and he had sacrificed his life to redeem himself. Harry was never going to regret that he and Sirius were alive instead of the elderly wizard; he was grateful to him.
Hermione gave a loud sniff beside him and he turned to find her with wet cheeks and damp eyes. He shifted to offer her a handkerchief. "Are you alright?"
"Just sad." Hermione said.
Sirius hummed beside them. "It's a sad day. I'm going to miss the old goat."
"Me too." Remus said, joining them.
"We should go back to the hall." Harry said sighing.
Sirius gave his shoulder a squeeze. They slowly turned away from the grave and made their way back up the path.
Hermione hooked her arm around Harry's as they walked. "Harry?"
"Hmmm." Harry said, his attention momentarily snagged by the still shambolic Quidditch pitch they were passing.
"Did you hear Professor McGonagall announce how the Headmaster's portrait had woken up?" Hermione said hesitantly. "She's put him in the antechamber at the back of the hall and said anyone who wanted to talk to him could visit him?"
"You want to visit his portrait?" Harry's heart sank because he suspected it was a situation where as her supportive boyfriend he would have to go along.
"No," Hermione shook her head, her bushy hair bouncing on her shoulders, "I thought you might want to go?"
Harry shook his head. "Not today." It was too soon. He didn't know how wizards handled it. How could you mourn someone properly when they were there in a portrait? He was suddenly glad his parents hadn't had a portrait made. He loved the still depictions that Padfoot had given him. They were enough of a memory. No, he couldn't contemplate ever being ready to speak to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.
Maybe in the future when he was Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Maybe.
He looked back at the Quidditch pitch. He still couldn't contemplate playing there ever again. He shivered.
"It's still a mess, isn't it?" Hermione murmured.
"Yeah," Harry sighed, "want to bet Ron's going to complain about the pitch again?"
Hermione snorted inelegantly. "No bet. Honestly, it's all he talks about!"
Sirius, Remus and Harry exchanged an amused look and for the first time that day, Harry's sorrow eased into something breathable, liveable.
Life went on even when great wizards died.
o-O-o
Bill quietly excused himself from the rambunctious company of his family and made his way out of the suite of rooms they had been provided with at the Black Estate. He had been fairly surprised his mother had acquiesced to staying with the rest of the alliance but he understood that the ritual had left its mark on her magic.
From the research Bill had begun, Morgana had used the protectiveness, feelings and motivations of all of the women in the ritual to weave a path back to Harry for her own blessing. That magical tapestry was a careful balance of not only Molly Weasley's maternal lioness but also of Griselda's political rationality and Augusta's belief in her vows of fealty. It was a brilliantly woven tapestry and Bill reckoned it was a thread that would bind the women together for as long as the blessing remained. He looked forward to seeing the changes it would evoke.
He made his way out of the wing where the alliance had been housed and into the main part of the house. He was tempted to head to the drawing room. It was one of Harry's favourite places to be and Bill had spent many of the evenings since Harry and Sirius had returned from the States just sitting quietly with Harry and Hermione.
He needed a quiet evening after the events of the day and Dumbledore's funeral. It had been long and draining. The political speeches had seemed to take forever. Thankfully Moody's speech had been short yet it had almost been the most poignant. It had reminded Bill that the venerable wizard had made his own sacrifice to save Sirius and Harry.
It had made the rest of the day almost unbearable.
The hurt of Caro's sacrifice still stung like a fresh burn; hot and unbelievably painful. He grieved for the beautiful woman who had been his partner; his friend. He couldn't begin to fathom how he would live up to the words she had whispered at the end.
"Worth it."
Was he worth it?
Bill hovered in front of the drawing room door. He wanted to go inside, curl up in the same chair he'd curled up in for so many nights and just grieve but life went on.
He lay a hand on the door. Besides, didn't Harry deserve an evening undisturbed with his girlfriend?
Bill turned and walked away from the drawing room and it wasn't long until he realised that his feet were taking him in the direction of Sirius's study.
The door was partially open but Bill knocked on it anyway.
Sirius turned from his contemplation of the portrait hung above the mantel and waved him inside.
Bill closed the door behind him. "Hey, I know this isn't a great day for this but do you have some time?"
Sirius gestured at the chair in front of his desk. "I always have time for you, Bill. What's this about?"
"My service." Bill said simply. He leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. "The Wizengamot meets for its usual session in the first week of August. It would be…" he sighed heavily, "it would be an appropriate time to announce the end of service."
"Yes." Sirius agreed, sitting down in the chair behind the desk. "It would." He gazed at Bill thoughtfully. "You've been an asset to the House of Potter, Bill. You'll be missed."
"I'll miss working for you and Harry." Bill said with a sad smile. The past year had been the best of his life and the hardest. "It's been an honour to serve."
"Have you thought about your future?" asked Sirius.
Bill nodded slowly. "I went to Gringotts last week. They have a new assignment starting shortly in Paris. The request from Bertie for the Lumiere document made the French government realise how badly disorganised the archives are and how dangerous. They've requested a team of curse-breakers to go in and get everything sorted out." He paused. "They offered me the chance to lead the team."
"That's great news." Sirius said, breaking into a genuinely pleased smile. "You deserve the opportunity."
"Do I?" asked Bill before he could stop himself. He flushed bright red as Sirius's gaze narrowed on him.
Sirius pressed his lips together briefly. He got to his feet and walked over to a side cabinet where a decanter and glasses stood proudly displayed. He poured them both a drink and walked back over handing Bill one glass. He took the seat next to Bill and offered his glass in a salute.
"To Caro." Sirius said seriously.
Bill's eyes filled with tears he refused to shed. He lifted his glass. "To Caro." He took a sip of the fiery liquid and was almost surprised when he realised it was ordinary Scotch rather than firewhiskey.
"It's a difficult thing when someone gives their life for yours." Sirius said. "It's hard to reconcile knowing that they put your life ahead of their own; that they felt you were worth the sacrifice."
Bill nodded. "I just…I don't…I don't know how to live with it."
"It's not an easy gift to carry."
"You seem to have…accepted Professor Dumbledore's gift." Bill said, striving to keep his voice even and non-accusatory.
Sirius sighed and gave a half-shrug. "Albus wasn't my first experience with someone giving their life to save mine." He paused and shook his head. "And even then, there's a part of me that believes Albus did nothing more than what he owed us, and a part of me who knows that anyone sacrificing their lives for Harry is the right thing to do so why would I rail against it?" He lifted the glass. "It's more complicated than simply someone stepping in front of you in the heat of battle."
Bill flinched at the blunt description of what had happened when Caro had…
Sirius settled back in the chair and took a sip of his drink. "At the beginning of 'eighty-one I was put in charge of a squad of hit wizards; a team of three of us. It was part of a new initiative Moody had suggested; small strike teams. It worked."
His gaze drifted to the fire and Bill realised Sirius was in the past.
"My team – we were close. Ernest Marchbanks and Howard Brady." Sirius smiled sadly. "Two very great blokes. Ernie was engaged to be married to Janet McKinnon; Howie had just graduated school and was fresh out of the boot camp."
"What happened?" prompted Bill gently when Sirius fell silent.
Sirius took another sip of the whiskey. "We had an op go very wrong. It was faulty intelligence but…I was leading the team. We hit a warehouse on the Thames where we believed the Death Eaters were bringing in female muggles from the Continent for sport and torture. It was a set-up."
Bill frowned as he watched Sirius pale as he tossed back the rest of the whiskey. He wanted to tell the other man not to put himself through the reliving of it – not to ease Bill. He opened his mouth to speak…
"Ernie went down straight away to a killing curse. There was nothing any of us could have done." Sirius said tersely. "Howie and I dived for cover and I managed to scramble a plan together. We separated and…and it worked. We managed to get the bastards but…right at the end…Howie had only stunned one of the fuckers and he sprung up…Howie threw himself in front of me before I had a chance to move. He bled out in minutes."
"You got the guy."
Sirius nodded. "Constantine Fecale. He was a nasty piece of work." He refocused on Bill. "I was a mess afterwards. I holed up, drank myself silly on whiskey and wondered why the hell Howie had sacrificed himself for me. It didn't feel like a fair exchange at all. He was young, smart. His parents were great, happily married childhood sweethearts, and he would have gone on to make someone a lovely husband and a great father. He was a real stand-up guy." He gestured. "And there was me; the white sheep of the Black family, someone whose family didn't want him and who wasn't innocent or unflawed. I hated myself for surviving, and I almost hated Howie for saving me."
"How did you…"
"James." Sirius said succinctly. "He…he turned up – him and Lily and Harry. I don't even know how he knew but James turned up and kidnapped me. He and Lily took care of me – forced me into a bath and clean clothing; wrapped me up in a blanket in front of the fire and dumped Harry in my lap. They told me how much they loved me and how grateful they were to Howie for saving my life…and I spent a night sobbing on their shoulders. A few days later, James went with me to the funeral. When it was over he said…he said Howie had given me this wondrous gift of life and I had a duty to take care of that gift; to live my life fully so his sacrifice was never wasted." He stopped and frowned. "I'd forgotten that."
Bill swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump of emotion that had settled there. "I loved her, you know? And I think I might…it would have been easy to have fallen in love with her. We'd talked about being partners in the future after my contract with Gringotts was up. She…she had my back all the time. I'm going to miss her so very…" and his voice broke. He lifted his arms to cover his face as he sobbed.
Sirius gently took the glass from his hand and set it aside before tugging Bill into a firm embrace.
Bill couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed as he wept. He only knew he was grateful that Sirius understood and that there was the comfort of shelter as he gave into the storm of grief.