Author's Note: Hi everyone! I wrote this little one-shot about Mother Nature and how she would give tribute to those lost in the Battle of Hogwarts. Also, Merry Christmas, Ya'ara *hugs* Enjoy! And don't forget to review, please!
Hundreds of people sat in hundred of chairs surrounding over fifty graves on a knoll downhill from the Shrieking Shack. The cemetery on the outskirts of Hogsmeade was to be the final resting place for over fifty victims of the Battle of Hogwarts. Two days hence, these fifty victims lost their lives and today they would be put to rest. It was just past the noon hour and dark, rolling clouds covered the sky, blocking any sunlight. The caskets rested beside the graves, shadows darkening their intricate designs.
The slightest breeze carried sniffles and sobs across the winds as Harry Potter found his way to stand in front of the chairs. Given a most imperative job, Harry was to say the final words before the caskets were lowered into the earth. Harry looked to Minerva McGonagall and nodded. She pointed to his throat, casting a non-verbal spell to make it so his voice carried to each person.
The hero shifted nervously and faced the crowd before him. Eyes were red and puffy, faces blotchy and tear-stained. Harry coughed and the sound reverberated off of the distant trees causing Harry’s coughing to linger in the air.
“Err…As we say our final goodbyes…” Harry began solemnly, but was interrupted by hysterical sobbing coming from every direction. Glancing around, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley watching him, the tears streaming down her face.
“Well…As we say our final goodbyes, I’d like to tell each and every one of you how truly honored I am that I can stand here today and say that these courageous people helped us to win the war.”
“From our youngest to our oldest, we should be proud that we sat in class with these people, that we watched them grow, that we became friends. They are gone in body, not in spirit. One day soon, we will rejoice and sing their names, the heroes.”
As Harry concluded his speech, he noticed the beaming faces that gazed at him. Arthur Weasley looked proudly upon him as Minerva McGonagall nodded firmly. Harry gave a sad smile to the people and moved to sit beside Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. A breeze continued to blow softly as one by one, people went up to their loved ones who lay inside a bed of peace. Hours could have drifted by and not a soul in the place would have cared or noticed. Dozens of people had already gone and returned to their seats when it came time for the Weasley family to walk to the graves.
George Weasley, shoulders slumped, quickly walked to his twin’s casket, Fred’s casket. Laying both his hands on the dark wood, George placed his face against the casket. Seconds passed and soon turned to minutes. Tenderly, George pressed his tear-wet lips to the casket. A drop of moisture fell from the dark, circling clouds above. Not a soul in on the knoll noticed that single drop.
Days seemed to pass as each of the hundreds of the assembly rose to say one last goodbye. Finally, the last person stood up and paused. Harry Potter didn’t know whose casket to go to first. Remus Lupin was closest; Nymphadora Tonks beside him. Intensely, Harry laid a hand on each casket. He didn’t shed a tear, not in front of everyone. Most people had wept over the coffins, but Harry kept up his strength for the hundreds of grieving people. Harry treaded to each person he had known and laid his hand upon each box containing those heroic people. It was a gesture of thanks and of mourning.
After touching his final casket, Harry glanced up at the clouds. A teardrop of the heavens hit his face. Then another, and another, and another. The skies opened up and the sheets of sadness fell. The wind blew stronger, gusty and heartbreaking. It whispered words of sorrow and comfort. They’re with me now. The trees swayed gently in tune with the breeze.
Underneath the mourners’ feet, Mother Earth crooned serenely, the grass humming her song of melancholy. Soothing her children all the while with her voice, she let the sheets of despair dissipate and the clouds began to move, if possible, more rapidly. A brilliant sun shone brightly upon each casket. The rest of the sky remained dark and listless.
In awe, the mourners gazed all around them, watching Nature placate her crying little ones. The trees opened their arms wide in welcome, offering their hugs. The voice of comfort washed over them, the smell of the wildflowers floating among the words. The sun continued to stream its rays of joy onto the people encased in their wooden beds. It was the opportune moment; Minerva McGonagall flicked her wand. The caskets raised and lowered themselves into the ground, mounds of love cloaking her children at last.
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-Shelby
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