They stood in silence for a while, locked in an embrace, when he heard her whisper: "Oh, Harry… we thought that …"

Harry left the embrace and took Hermione by the shoulders. "Relax, I’m fine," he insisted and smiled. "Really."

The girl smiled tentatively. "Sorry, but no one knew where you were."

Mrs. Weasley stepped up to the next bed and Hermione followed her. Harry stopped halfway when he saw Ron sitting on the bed, smiling and healthy.

"You won’t even say hello?" asked his friend and Harry stepped closer.

"Of course I will," he said and hugged Ron for a minute then sat on the bedside. "Everything is all right?"

Ron took a chocolate frog and unwrapped it. "Yep and I’m supposed to leave today," he enthused. "Mum, I’d really like to eat your food, the catering here can’t make up for yours."

Mrs. Weasley packed the remaining presents in her bag. "Don’t worry, I’ll cook something fine tonight." Then she looked at Harry. "Harry, dear, now that no one will be spending Christmas at Hogwarts, will you join us?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley," he finally said, and mused about what Christmas would be like at the Weasley’s. "You know I don’t want to go back to my aunt and uncle’s."

She went to him and patted him on the head. "You are always welcome with us," she said kindly. "Severus will bring your trunk from Hogwarts, and then…" she continued more sombrely, "after the funeral, you can come with us."

Their mood saddened as they remembered all those who had died, among them Seamus Finnigan. Harry gulped and tried to speak in a steady voice. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks."

"Not at all, dear."

In an effort to raise the somber mood, Ron made a special report about the interesting food they received in the hospital. He and Hermione asked what had happened since they last saw Harry, but Harry was not feeling very talkative.

He told them that he was foisted on Snape and that they had stayed at Headquarters. He did not mention the strange friendship that had developed with his teacher, nor about his near-drowning when Hogwarts was flooded. Luckily, his friends did not interrogate him and lunch was spent in a good mood as if they did not have a funeral to attend afterwards.

Mrs. Weasley was about to take the lunch trays away when two people entered the ward: Mr. Weasley and Hippocrates.

Harry was surprised to see the healer in Muggle clothes on top of which he donned a white healer’s cloak.

Hippocrates approached them, smiling, and stopped near Harry. "I see you feel quite well," he remarked.

The door closed after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stopped at the other end of the bed to check on their son.

"Hippocrates, you said they can leave this afternoon?" asked Mr. Weasley.

The man nodded. "Of course. We don’t have a reason to keep them for observation, not like Harry, who reacted totally differently, and not only due to his blood …" Hippocrates shut up and paled visibly as Harry looked at him.

Harry, noticing the look Hipprocrates shared with Mr. Weasley, jumped up so suddenly that his chair almost toppled over. "I’m really fed up with this!" he cried as he looked at the healer accusingly. "What doe you mean ‘not only my blood’ …?"

Hippocrates stepped over to him kindly, reaching out to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder, but Harry stepped away angrily.

"Don’t," Harry hissed. "You could at least me tell why you are being so secretive!"

"Harry, calm down…"

Harry decided just once to not hold it all in. "No, I won’t calm down!" he said loudly and he didn’t care how his friends looked at him. "I want to know what is going on and why no one will tell me anything!"

Now Mr. Weasley also came closer and Harry had the feeling of being trapped. He started to retreat.

"Harry, we did not tell you a lot of things, but only because it would have been a big shock…" started Mr. Weasley but Harry interrupted him.

"Why would it be a shock, I know about it! And of course… it’s not as if I wouldn’t have my share of problems anyway!" Harry shouted. He did not care that he was yelling at an adult. "Potter needs to be spared, I know! Potter is the one who is attacked or almost kidnapped each year! Really, is it not the same whether you tell me or not?! Will I break and become a nervous wreck?!"

Hippocrates’ face became stern. "No, Harry, we don’t think that," he said calmly. "Trust us, we have a valid reason. The knowledge would surely upset you. You are under a great deal of pressure already. We do not want to add to it."

Harry took a deep breath and swept his hair from his eyes but did not calm down. "Oh, never mind! You always misconstrue the things I say so you can avoid explaining anything to me!" he countered and went to the door, avoiding them.

The healer followed and stopped him in his tracks. "Harry, I’m just worried about you like everyone else. Try to stay strong. The afternoon will be more difficult if you don’t calm down."

Harry sidestepped the man and opened the door; the handle almost stayed in his hand. He turned to the healer. "As I said, I would be calm if you wouldn’t keep things from me."

"I can give you a potion…"

"I don’t need your potions!" Harry shouted. "Just leave me alone!"

He turned to run out the door but a big black blob made him stop for a moment. He saw the surprised, almost anxious face of the potions master but looked away and ran around him, almost colliding with Mrs. Weasley.

He heard Snape’s voice behind him. "Molly, don’t! Let him go. He needs to be alone right now."

oO{~S~}Oo

Harry was sitting in a quiet part of the hospital where there were no patients. The whole room seemed to be fashioned as an isle of repose: a small fountain, a lot of trees, and rock gardens. It was the perfect place for patients to have a nice time if they were confined to the hospital for long periods.

He found the most secluded bench and hoisted up his legs, watching the fountain as the water flowed from a stone which looked like a flower to other similar stones. It was a nice fountain, one he could have watched for hours as the flowers did not stay in one place, but moved from place to place, their petals becoming smaller and larger in turns.

He’d sat there for at least 3 hours. After leaving the others, he’d found this place quite quickly. He knew that he should not have shouted at the adults but he could not help himself. It was better then losing control over his power and breaking everything. They had not come after him, had not sought him. It was better this way as he did not want to talk to anyone. Though loneliness was never pleasant, he needed it now to gather strength for the funeral.

He looked up at a small clock and saw that it was almost three o’clock. He sighed and set off on the stone path toward the door where he had entered. It would all be over soon, he thought, and he’d find a way to handle it without breaking down.

oO{~S~}Oo

When he went out the door he was surprised by how many people were in the hallway, all dressed in black. In a few moments, Mrs. Weasley appeared next to him and spoke.

"We were going to start looking for you," she told him quietly as she gave him his long black coat. "Here you are, dear, put it on and we’ll leave by portkey."

Harry took the coat, and dressed himself, including his warm scarf. "Why are there so many people?"

"A lot of people died recently. There will also be a public commemoration," Mrs. Weasley answered. "Come, the others are waiting."

Hermione and Ron were near the wall, not far from them. When he went to them, they did not question him. Hermione only asked if he was well.

Then they went together to the assigned room where the portkeys were placed neatly in a row on the ground. They held onto a ragged handbag which took them to the Wizarding cemetery in London after a stomach churning experience.

On their way to the chapel, Harry was a bit amazed by some of the statues on the gravestones which bowed before them. And despite the fact that they were well into winter, the graveyard made him feel like, despite the snow, it was still spring and blooming.  Of course it was just a charm, but a very believable one at that.

Harry hardly noticed that they’d arrived before the small building when an old wizard started speaking. Harry barely listened to the speech. Sometimes he nicked some sentences but he was elsewhere in spirit. Finally the crowd dispersed and everyone started off in different directions.

Mr. Weasley told them quietly that Seamus’ funeral was quite close. He told them that at 6 o’clock in the evening, the bells were to toll in reverence for all of the deceased. Then he left to take part in someone else’s funeral as all of the funerals were being held at the same time.

After a short stroll, the trio arrived at an open space near a stream. There were a lot of white chairs waiting for the participants. Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat down in the last row. Harry was astounded by how many people were in attendance.

He thought it would be cold but the chairs were charmed to radiate warmth.

When everyone was seated in silence, Dumbledore arrived, looking exceptional in a blue robe and matching cloak. He stopped before the creek where Seamus’ casket was levitated. Harry heard Hermione start to sniffle. He hugged her and gave her a handkerchief.

Dumbledore began to speak but Harry could not pay attention. He remembered the DA meetings and other events that they had experienced together. He looked away from the casket and watched as two wizards drew different rings, shaping the statue that would be placed on Seamus’s grave.

When the two wizards finished, Dumbledore completed his monologue and everyone stood. Harry and his friends did the same, and the chairs disappeared. They paid their last tribute to Seamus, standing there mutely for several minutes.

Mr. Weasley arrived and stepped up to Hermione, hugging her consolingly, and then Ron joined them as they watched the coffin being lowered.

Harry stepped back to Mrs. Weasley who was consoling Ginny. He had not been the best of friends with Seamus but the thought that he would never see him again was terribly sad, echoing the mood of loss that hung over the whole cemetery.

Harry felt more angry than achy; he could have prevented this. He clenched his fists in his pockets and resolved to finish off the bloody killer who had caused so many good people to die. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he almost saw starts. He felt hot tears on his face releasing the pain that consumed his whole body.

Then he felt someone hug him and he snuggled up for comfort, like a child to its mother, and cried the tears he had held back over the last days and weeks. Seamus’ funeral has been the last straw of his self-control. He heard Dumbledore say some more words but it was only background noise to him.

He didn’t want to hear anything any more, didn’t want to take part in anymore funerals of his friends which could happen at any time. He clenched his eyes shut and let Mrs. Weasley stroke his back comfortingly, hugging him while his tears flowed freely.

After an endless amount of time, the noise level rose as the participants started to leave, but he could not move. He did not want to. He was afraid that if he left, nothing would be the same ever again. His tears did not abate and the ache did not ease. He had thought that when the funeral was over that everything would be all right again. He was so distraught that he hardly heard as someone spoke.

"I’ll take him with me, Molly," the low, familiar voice said.

Harry gave a start when he identified the voice. He’d thought that…

"Are you sure, Severus?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"He needs rest and an explanation which, as you well know, was not given to him," stated a cold voice near his ear.

"How true. Like you did not already impart your opinion in the ward when lecturing us," Mrs. Weasley groused. "Did you have to roar at Hippocrates?"

"I don’t want to argue with you as well, Molly." Harry felt so numb that he could not move, and the overwhelming pain prevented him from objecting. "And now we must go, before everyone comes up for a chat."

"But Severus…"

"No, Molly. He could not endure it if some strangers, or even the Finnigans, came to talk with him right now." Harry gulped and felt even more despair at the mention of Seamus’ parents. What must Seamus’ parents feel…? "You know where to find us if you need to reach us."

Harry felt his strength leaving him. His legs could not hold him up any longer. He barely remembered what happened afterwards. The anxious voices of Mrs. Weasley and his friends, some calming words murmured to him, then the stomach churning experience of someone apparating him and taking him far away from everyone…

…where the commemorating tolling of the evening was just a faint memory.

oO{~S~}Oo