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"Sir, I did it. Voldemort is gone." That is what Harry told to the grave. That is what Harry always told the grave.
The smooth, beautifully grey head stone that marked Dumbledore's resting place. It seemed out of character, for he always saw Dumbledore drenched in colour, the ex-headmaster could rival all the bird of paradise with his eccentric robes. Harry thought that maybe the headstone would be better if it was drenched in colour too.
Fawkes that bird seemed to have the same thoughts as he squawked indignantly at the grave whenever he graced the grounds of hogwarts. The phoenix seemed to be indifferent to the students and faculty he had watched over for years. It seemed that once Dumbledore had died hogwarts meant nothing to the bird. He only came back to the grounds to watch over the body of his closest friend.
Harry wondered if Hedwig would be watching him from her heavenly afterlife.
Harry was sure that wherever Hedwig was she had a bountiful amount of bacon and mice to eat, she was just waiting for him to arrive to nip at his ear for taking so long. Oh, god did he miss her.
Not only her but everyone who'd died for him, not just the people who had died for him but the people who'd died in general. This grief was a heavy thing, what would Dumbledore say? Or Sirius? Or Remus?
None of them would blame him, of course not. But Harry felt as though all this was his doing, maybe if he was stronger, better prepared or, or something that would have saved them, they'd still be here. Harry would still have the family he so desperately needed.
He had the Weasleys and Hermione but they were all grieving too, of course the were Mrs. Weasley had lost a son, Ron had lost his brother. Harry couldn't burden them with him, that'd be oh so very selfish.
All these pains and thoughts swarmed him like flies but he didn't even want to swat them away, the buzz was needed.
Your fault. Buzz.
Could've done more. Buzz.
Should've been faster. Buzz.
The Boy Who lived Buzz.
Killer, misfortune bringer. Buzz.
Should die. Buzz.
What should he do? The prophet would be all over him soon, they'd already tried. Almost as soon as the death eaters had been detained. They are worse than flies, they were termites. Horrible icky destructive termites, who came uninvited and trashed you home. Your safe space.
Of course Harry didn't really have a home nor a safe space these days, but still. They'd like to tear apart his sanity as a reward for saving Wizard-Britain.
Thank you Mr Potter! Oh thank you so much! Did you follow Voldermort's lead and create a horcrux? Should we fear that you are to become the next dark Lord?
The duality of these reporters gave Harry a whiplash, he would never understand the press. 'I save you from one dark Lord only to get accused of being his successor.' He was so very grateful for Hermione who came in dragging him away while berating the insensitivity of the reporter because he felt as though he could of killed the man who held the note book so close his face, as if tears were not still running down his face.
He felt a weight on his shoulder, the uncomfortable sensation of talons digging into his shoulder seemed to clear the fog of thoughts, Fawkes' weight was nothing like Hedwigs, the phoenix was less caring towards Harry than the snowy owl.
But soon Harry registered that Fawkes was here again, on his shoulder. "Hello the Fawkes, been awhile. Hasn't it?" Something tickled his ear, it was a soft thing. Turning his head he saw what it was.
It looked like a long piece of blue confetti, it was brilliant shade. Reaching out he grabbed it from Fawkes' beak. Gently, he placed it upon the grave. It felt like he was awarding Dumbledore a medal, but blue ribbons were second place were they not? Maybe he should ask Fawkes for a red one. He wasn't sure. At least there was finally colour. "Good job Fawkes, I'll look for more colourful things too. Anything you want to say?"
They bird squawked, before silently bowing his head in what Harry believed was grief and respect. Then the silver droplets of phoenix tears started falling. Harry was not the only one stuck in grief today, "It's going to be alright Fawkes." He wished he knew how Dumbledore and Fawkes met, but it seemed that was going to be one of the many, many stories left untold. Eventually they'd be completely lost, when people no longer remembered Fawkes, maybe they'd even forget Dumbledore and him.
The thought frightened him, to forget Dumbledore, after all he did in his lifetime. How many people were forgotten to time?
He didn't want everyone's sacrifices to be forgotten, after all they did, what if the future British wizard community forgot this event and allowed it to repeat? What was Harry saying, of course they'd forget, of course history would repeat. Voldermort was not the first Dark Lord.
Oh what a horrible thought Harry had now. He could picture it, piles of bodies, all bloody and silent, all once screaming and crying as green light swarmed them, as evil people hunted them. Would there be another chosen one to stop them this time? Would the Dark Lord be defeated once more? They had been in the past but would that always be the case?
If only Dumbledore was still alive to answer this. Harry, my boy, there will always be evil where there is good. That is the unfortunate reality of humanity.
He'd probably say something like that.
"Harry, are you alright?" The boy, man? Jumped. Fawkes quickly flew off into the skies Mrs. Mcgonagall stood behind him, somehow he didn't hear. "Professor, I was just visiting." The woman was no longer the stern no-nonsense teacher he saw her as when he first arrived. Now that he looked at her she just looked tired, tired like Harry. He could see the dark circled under her eyes, he could spot the multiple stray hairs that escaped her tight bun, he could even spot the red in the corner of her eyes, he wondered if she could see his.
"That bird doesn't seem to like to be close to anybody anymore, apart from you." He could even hearthe hoarseness in her voice, it didn't feel as strong as it once did. "He's grieving, Professor."
"So are you, tell me Harry is there anything I can help you with?" Harry was so very glad that Mcgonagall was still alive. "I'll be fine Professor, but maybe get some colour for Dumbledore's grave. It doesn't suit him."
The professor, now headmistress let out a small, breathy laugh. "I will do, now run along. Mr Weasley, and Miss Granger are looking for you."