(Y/N)'s POV

I always laugh at funerals, at least a little bit, I don't know why, it started when I was eight or nine, as we were at my brother's funeral. My Dad said something about smiling through the pain and I just took it to heart, so now I had the very inappropriate habit of giggling during silences.

I think it was my body's way of coping with the stress of losing someone. I hadn't been to that many funerals, some estranged family, some of Mum's mates and then of course hers and (B/N)'s and even then I giggled through tears, I'm sure it was a sight to behold.

But I have to say, I had never been to a funeral quite like Dumbledores, even before it started it seemed different. I changed into my black dress robes, which still held the colour they did during Aragog's funeral.

With that, I looked to Harry and Ron, "Ready?" they both nodded and we made our way to the common room from our dorms. We found Hermione, Ginny and Lavender waiting for us, we didn't speak, just shared a glance and a nod. Hermione was already on the verge of tears.

I pulled her into a silent embrace and kissed her forehead. Taking her hand made me feel a lot better, I don't know if it was lack of sleep or the fact the Hogwarts express left after the funeral, but I felt kind of numb, my movements were sluggish and I was dead tired, it was a struggle to even stay on my feet.

Downstairs we found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes, and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty.

Hagrid's chair was deserted too, Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour, his yellowish eyes scanned the Hall, falling on Harry. I really didn't like that look.

Among Scrimgeour's entourage was the unmistakable the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware of Percy, but I thought it was at least a sign of respect that he deemed in necessary to show up.

We sat in the hall picking at our food for a minute or two before Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once. "It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

We filed out from behind their benches in near silence. Slughorn was at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver.

Looking over at the others, I made note of Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking clean of once; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when we reached the Entrance Hall, we found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she was in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he was in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

We all stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed our faces as we followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows.

An aisle ran down the centre of them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer's day. An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young.

I didn't know the majority of them, but there were a few that I did, members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin.

Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry's Squib neighbour, the hairy bass player from the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express.

The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air. Each of us filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake.

People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell, I noted a few more people who had joined us, I smiled as I saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna.

They alone of all the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died, It made sense really, they were the ones who had missed the D.A. most...probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting. I found it comforting the Dumbledore still had his army behind him, even now.

Cornelius Fudge walked past us towards the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual. As I saw the next two guests Hermione clamped her hand to my wand hand, as if I would do anything at a funeral, but I could see her concern.

Because among the crowds were Rita Skeeter, who looked as foul faced as ever, too much make up caked to her face, she was taking small notes with a pad in her lap, but then I saw something that upset me even more.

Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toad like face, a black velvet bow set atop her iron coloured curls. Her eyes falling nervously on the Forbidden forest and her chirp like cough still present among the murmur of the crowd.

At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away. The staff were seated at last, but I saw Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall.

Before I could note any other guests, I heard music, strange, otherworldly music, I craned my neck for the source but I was struggling to find it, and I was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

When I found the source I nudged Hermione, who was still searching, her jaw dropped, because in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them.

Despite some bad memories of merpeople from the second task for the Tri-Wizard Tournament I was still entranced by the singing, it was a bit like seeing Veela for the first time, I knew what was happening, but I couldn't take my eyes off it, like if I missed a second of it that was a disservice to the singers and Dumbledore alike.

The music was in a language that was entirely foreign to me, but I could clearly understand its message, through the tones and the sorrow in the voices of the merpeople. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair, that they were sorry for Dumbledore's passing.

I was so rooted to the sight of the merpeople that it took me a second before I noticed what was happening in my peripheral vision until Hermione pat my arm again. Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs.

He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, I had to do a double take when I saw it, looking at the shape under the cloak was like looking at an impossibility.

There was palpable silence that blanketed the everyone in attendance as we all looked on, speechless, at Dumbledore's body. A well seemed to open in my chest, a deep shiver ran down my spine, it felt like a paradox.

If he was the strongest wizard in the world, how could his body look so weak wrapped in its velvet sheet, how could a man who was larger then life look so small? His body was so frail, it was the first time I had noticed how his age had weathered his body. I'd never seen him looking so normal. So human.

Then, for a moment, the strange music and the knowledge that Dumbledore's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. It was like a cold breeze ushered Dumbledore to his final resting place, as if nature itself had taken offence at the possibility of Dumbledore's death.

I pried my eyes away from the body, unable to look at it any longer, tears were falling thick and fast into both Ginny and Hermione's laps. I leaned Hermione into my chest to stifle the noise so she could sob openly and continued to take in the distraught faces around me.

Harry looked utterly vacant, there was very little light in his eyes at all and he seemed unable to look away from the sight of the Headmaster, Ron looked white and shocked, I could tell he was trying his best not to break down into tears, fighting it with all his strength.

I had given up the fight that he chose to continue and now tears fell from my face freely, I was not even attempting to hold them back now, knowing that if I did I would just upset myself more.

I could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Then retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalised looks from some, including, Umbridge and Skeeter of course.

Hagrid's eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going. Me and Harry both glanced at the back row to which Hagrid was heading and realised what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, was the giant Grawp, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human.

Hagrid sat down next to his half-brother and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. Harry had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. I had no clue what he was saying. I tried to read his lips to no avail thanks to the tears in my eyes and the fact I lacked the ability to read lips.

My mind began to wonder as I stared at the white marble of the pedestal on which Dumbledore lay, and for some reason, the thought that bubbled up to my head was the fact I never got to hear the end of that joke.

I muttered it under my breath. "So, a troll, a hag and a leprechaun all walk into a bar..." I was trying to think of a possible ending to the joke, a payoff that was so obvious that it was funny, but I couldn't.

This in itself made me giggle a little, it was just like Dumbledore to leave me with more questions than answers. I couldn't contain myself after a few seconds and had to put my head down and ended up chuckling quietly into Hermione's hair.

There was a soft splashing noise to our left, the merpeople had broken the surface to listen, too. A look of great sadness adorned their faces, even they remained eerily quiet during the speech.

The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move into the open but where standing quite still at the edge of the forest, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides.

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. I waited for somebody else to get to their feet; I was expecting eulogies like the ones that usually took place at funerals, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. My jaw dropped at the sight.

White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: burning blue and white and every other colour I could imagine. Just watching the display brought me great joy and I started giggling like a little kid, but the noise of my laughter was drowned out by the crackling of the flame.

"Old man stole my shtick," I whispered, more to amuse myself then anything, you know what they say, if I wasn't laughing, I'd be crying. Because it was perfect, so serene it was almost like I was witnessing a miracle rather then a burial.

Despite its beauty I had to blink at some point, and as I did the flame was replaced. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested. Just as I was taking in the moment, another spectacle took it's place.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. I suppose it was like a 21-gun salute for centaurs.

But I couldn't help but smile at the thought of the ever-stoic centaurs' tribute to the man who was anything but. And the look on Umbridge's face as the arrows flew.

After this display the centaur began to turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise, the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

Obviously I had no way of knowing, but I liked to think that the Merpeople had created a great statue in Dumbledore's likeness in the black lake, a tribute to the man who gave them the respect they needed and had done so much for them.

I looked at Ginny, Ron and Hermione: Ron's face was screwed up as though the sunlight was blinding him. Hermione's face was glazed with tears, but Ginny was no longer crying.

I found this to be rather curious, but I saw her and Harry having a hushed conversation and decided it was best if they were left to it, it looked important.

Ron, was now holding Lavender, who I didn't realise was beside him and stroking her hair while she sobbed into his shoulder, tears dripping from the end of his nose. With a miserable gesture, Harry got up, turned his back on Ginny and on Dumbledore's tomb and walked away around the lake.

As Harry walked away we all started to rise and pay our final respects, some of the other attendees seemed to follow in Harry's wake, either unable or not wishing to get any closer to the tomb.

I stood up and approached the tomb, as did many others, I don't know what I was going to do or say when I got there, but it just felt right.

For some reason the barman at the Hogs head was the first to approach the tomb and was not stopped by anyone, then the Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour followed suit, saying a few words I couldn't catch, and then hobbled off to the other side of the lake.

Next was Professor McGonagall, who placed a shaking hand on the tomb and muttered something about looking after the students. Then her mask began to crack.

That was the moment that she lost her composure, the tears she had held back by her professionalism finally cut through the act, she started openly sobbing.

I don't know why, but rather then sit here and watch I was compelled to comfort her, It was like watching my Mother cry. I couldn't take it, I walked over to her slowly, placing my hands over her and bringing her into a hug. Pushing aside anyone in my way gently.

It was like an alarm went off in my head, McGonagall was crying. No. that shouldn't happen. I didn't care about etiquette or tact; I couldn't care less if it was pushing in front of the Minister of Magic or the dirty looks the Umbridge and Skeeter sent after me.

"(L/N), what are you doing? She asked through pained breaths and tears, "Causing a scene. I think he'd appreciate it, don't you? A little drama?" She seemed to nod and scoff slightly. "Yes, I imagine he would."

Then, interrupting the tender moment was a noise that brought a little disgust with it, a noise I thought I would never have to hear, especially here of all places. A little "Hem hem." I turned to see the disgusted face of Dolores Umbridge, of course she would have a problem with something like this.

I was ready to shout at her, but stopped myself, instead taking a breath and saying. "Oh go away you...nincompoop" I said, figuring Dumbledore would appreciate the use of the word rather than the profanity laced rant that I wanted to unleash upon her.

I simply released my head of house from the hug and shuffled along to where I was stood earlier. After people filed out of the service and started to make their way back to the castle, I stayed back for a minute, like a few others. Still unable to walk away and really say goodbye.

As Ron and Hermione went to go and find Harry, I wanted to say one final goodbye, I found a thought that was lingering in the back of my mind that seemed appropriate

As I left I found myself thinking about how me and Dumbledore weren't always on the best terms, but I always respected him, and it was that thought that led to me making a promise to the old man.

"Thanks for the Sherbet Lemon. I'll watch over them, I promise. You've done enough." I know they weren't the best final words to the man who had spent years keeping me and my friends safe all while somehow managing to run a school and somehow not expel all of us.

But I didn't have the right words, there weren't the right words. So that was what I managed to muster. A promise that his legacy wouldn't die simply because he had taken his last breath.

I would be better, that I would protect people when they needed it. As a tribute to his memory, because as Harry once said, Albus Dumbledore wasn't really gone, because there would always be people in Hogwarts that remained loyal to him.

Harry's POV

A voice called out "Harry!" so reluctantly, I turned. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards me around the bank, leaning on his walking stick. "I've been hoping to have a word...do you mind if I walk a little way with you?" "No," I said indifferently, and set off again.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy," said Scrimgeour quietly, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I-"

"What do you want?" I asked flatly. Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding. "You are, of course, devastated," he said. "I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite ever pupil. The bond between the two of you-"

"What do you want?" I found myself repeating, coming to a halt. Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at me, his expression shrewd now. "The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night that he died."

"Whose word?" I asked, not caring about the answer. "Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Harry." "Glad to hear it," I scoffed.

"Well, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know." "Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be restraining his irritation with difficulty, "but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone"

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him," I began smiling in spite of myself. "My dear boy...even Dumbledore cannot return from the-" "I am not saying he can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to tell you."

Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your service —" Harry laughed.

"Voldemort wants to kill me himself and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks." "So," said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, "the request I made of you at Christmas-"

"What request? Oh yeah...the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for..." "-for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimgeour.

I considered him for a moment, then thought of a response worthy of his time. "Released Stan Shunpike yet?" Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Uncle Vernon. "I see you are-" "Dumbledore's man through and through," I spat the words back at him.

"That's right." Scrimgeour glared at me for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. Percy and the rest of the Ministry delegation were stood around waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the sobbing Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their seats.

(Y/N), Ron and Hermione were hurrying towards me, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite direction; I turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which they had sat in happier times.

(Y/N)'s POV

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered in case he overheard. "You're autograph I imagine?" I sighed tiredly, sitting my butt on the grass. "Same as he wanted at Christmas," shrugged Harry. "Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster boy."

"How much are they paying? Might be a nice summer job" I shrugged, he didn't seem amused, but slumped down under the tree and also sighed tiredly, I could tell he was still really torn up about Dumbledore.

I know he was closer to Dumbledore the any of us, so I can't imagine how he felt, especially after all the business with the Horcruxes and Snape. He had to watch the man die, I can't imagine that was easy.

As I started to offer my sympathies that he was in such high demand, but I was distracted by Ron who seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to Hermione, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"

"No," she said firmly, grabbing his arm. "It'll make me feel better!" Something about how genuine his voice was made me laugh, it was a little sense of normality in the doom and gloom. For the first time in a few weeks, Harry laughed too, even Hermione grinned a little, though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back." she said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?" "Maybe it won't," said Ron. I agreed, "One can hope, I've spent more time wandering around Hogwarts then I have at home, it'll be strange to leave it just like that"

Ron started to get on his soapbox a bit "We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," said Harry in a surprising twist. I turned to see that his face was completely serious. I was a little worried at the thought, Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?"

"I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to," said Harry. "But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good." "But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"

"I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered with a tone that sounded like he was already thinking it over. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."

"Sounds like a plan to me mate, It might do some good for you to return to your roots" I offered, he smiled at me and nodded a little, "And then what?" said Ron. "Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" said Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake.

"That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right, and I'm sure he was, there are still four of them out there." "I've got to find them and destroy them."

"Then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way," he added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."

There was a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed now, the stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the water. "We'll be there, Harry," said Ron. "What?"

"At your aunt and uncle's house," said Ron. "And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going." "No" said Harry quickly, going pale. "Oh, don't start" I stopped him, "I refuse to have this argument again, it's getting old."

"You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?" "We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. I nodded, "You're stuck with us now Potter, like it or not."

HGe stuttered in disagreement, but Ron continued "But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow." "Why?" "Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

Harry looked at him, startled; but seemed to relax a little "Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally. "Seeing Fleur in a wedding dress...I'm not missing that for anything." I smirked. Hermione glared at me and slapped my arm.

"Kidding. It's Bill I want to see; he might give me some pointers" I smiled as she put her head down and Ron scoffed. Hermione laid her head on my legs as I stretched them and we all stared at the castle, wondering what was to come of it. Would Hogwarts be shut down?

I didn't know, but what I did know was that it would never feel quite the same without the wonderful spirit that was Albus Dumbledore. We were there for only a few minutes before I was approached by Kingsley Shacklebolt, wearing impressive black dress robes.

He stepped over to us slowly, staring at me expectantly, I sighed. "But I just got comfortable" He let out a rare smile and said, "I apologise, especially considering the circumstances, but we are on a schedule."

Truth was I just didn't want to go and hoped if I stayed here, I would miss the train, but I was not that lucky. "Well, boys and girl, this is where I must leave you for now, I have a train to catch and a scary bald man to talk to." I said as I got to my feet.

They all looked at me confused, I realise in all the chaos I hadn't told them what I was going to do, but I didn't have time to remedy that now. "Don't worry, I'll only be gone for a few hours, then I'm coming back." I said, kissing Hermione quickly.

"Where are you off too?" asked Ron, "Kings cross, then back" he seemed befuddled. "But I thought you were staying at the Burrow all your stuff is already there. Why are you going home? Did you forget something?"

I chuckled at his choice of words and explained a little so they wouldn't worry. "I'm not going back home, I'm going to King's Cross, Dad's waiting for me" I said, getting increasingly anxious. "But if you aren't going home you don't need to go to Kings Cross" said Harry, who also looked puzzled "I know that, but he doesn't."

Only Hermione seemed to understand what I was going to do, her face fell, and she stood up slowly, looking at me sadly. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked softly, putting her hand to my face to comfort me.

I shook my head, "Nah, don't worry about it. You lot just stay here and relax. I'll be back." I winked at them, turning on my heel for what was going to be the longest train ride of my life.

As we walked to the train, we had to walk through Hogsmeade towards the station, during our pass through the town Kingsley didn't say a word, just remaining calm and collected as always.

The weather had taken a turn and there was suddenly a bitter cold wind behind us. I looked around, seeing some of the residents had already returned from the service.

In particular I saw the Barkeep of the Hog's Head sweeping floors inside the pub, looking rather grumpy and sour faced. Inside I saw Ernie from the Knight Bus and Tom from the Leaky Cauldron sharing stories and cheersing to something.

As we reached the station we were just behind most of the students who boarded the train to leave Hogwarts early, either for their own protection or a lack of faith in its future.

Something about the whole situation felt off though, at first I thought it was because the others weren't with me like they always were when we boarded at the end of term but in the quiet I realised it was something much simpler but almost just as important.

There was no Hagrid. Usually when leaving or entering Hogwarts I could always count on seeing the beaming face of the half giant who made even my worst days feel better. But he wasn't here today, this cemented the fact that everything about this felt wrong.

I remembered seeing his tear stained face as he carried Dumbledore's body and even more anxiety welled up in my chest, but Kingsley's voice cut through the stress of the day. "Come, it's time to go." He said firmly, pulling me onto the train by the arm.

It was eerily quiet on the train, even the chatter of students seemed subdued somehow, like they had chosen to speak in only whispers, and as the train pulled off from the station I think it was the first time I can remember hearing the train clunking along the tracks on its journey back to Kings Cross.

Kingsley was acting as the guard for the train, so he had to patrol every so often, but whenever he wasn't doing that, we shared a compartment, just the two of us, in the meantime he sat me down and explained what was going to happen.

It was fair to say I didn't take it well, I knew I would have to of course, I had been preparing it for months, but just hearing it made it feel more real.

It hit me hard, dread filled me at the thought, but Kingsley calmed me down, sitting down with me for about an hour and calmly explained why it had to be done now. Then he left me to my thoughts again.

All in all, I had a lot of time to think of what to do next, what I had to do next, but something just didn't sit right, it felt so wrong, so invasive. But I steeled myself and firmly committed to this course of action.

I spent a few hours resting, hoping it might clear my head, but I couldn't sleep much, I was awoken by a flash of green light inches from my face or the feeling of falling and coming to a sudden stop.

The truth was I didn't even have to take the train, but I wanted to, another attempt at procrastination on my part, there were a thousand ways to get this over faster, in fact I didn't even have to face it at all, but that just wasn't right, it had to be me, it wouldn't feel final otherwise.

I considered asking Winky to take me, but it seemed a little too personal for that, so instead of that or apparition with Kingsley I chose to take the Hogwarts Express, it gave me more time.

I think the real reason I took the train was so I could put it off longer. Just like me, to procrastinate on something as important as this because I didn't want to hurt my own feelings.

I went over it again and again in my head, the words that I would say when I got there, as I closed my eyes again, hoping to rest them, my hands found their way into the belt Mum got me, pulling out the last piece of this delicate puzzle that I needed. A worn leather wallet.

As we pulled into Kings Cross and towards the barrier, even that looked more dull and drab then usual, before I stepped through the barrier Kingsley gave me a few words of encouragement. "Remember, it's not forever, just for now."

"Take all the time you need" Kingsley said gently as he ushered me through the magical barrier and closer to the Muggle world. I nodded, preparing myself and taking a deep breath. Then, finding myself in the always packed Kings Cross.

Nothing seemed to have changed, people were always just a busy and just as loud, it took me a minute, but I finally found my father waiting for me, clearly not comfortable with running through the barrier to greet me.

He looked much better then the last time I saw him after we said goodbye to Mum, there was more light in his eyes and he looked healthier, but I could still see the pain in his eyes, I could hear it in his voice.

"Hi son, how was school? Just as mental as ever I imagine" he said smiling at me. I nodded, unable to form the right words. "Blimey. You're looking awfully fancy" he said, taking in my appearance.

I realised in all the time on the train it hadn't even occurred to me to change out of my dress robes, but I guess they still fitted what I was about to do. "Yeah, long story, I'll tell you the details later."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really? That's not like you. Normally I can't get you to shut up. Are you sure you're fine?" He was looking at me with increasing concern on his face. "What's happened, where's Bones and the Little elfy girl?"

He began looking around me for any sign of them, getting even more frantic. "Nothing's happened, they're fine. Hermione's getting them off the train for me." This seemed to satisfy his worries and he nodded.

"Well, I reckon we better wait for them then" He said, looking at his watch, "You can give me the rundown of everything that's happened, just the highlight's if you'd like" he smiled. "Alright then, you've twisted my arm" I chuckled.

I pretended to try to think, truth was, I had a million things I wanted to say to him, a million things that wanted to rush out of my mouth. But I decided it would be best to just bite the bullet and do it quickly.

"Oh, I made my own magic!" I said excitedly, genuinely chuffed to share it with him. He clearly had no idea what that would mean but seemed excited for me. "That's great. How did you do that? I would think that you're lot would have figured out just about everything by now."

"Oh well its actually pretty hard you have to take existing concepts and spells and change the way they are channelled through a wand and interac...never mind, it's all pretty complex stuff." I said as he looked at me utterly lost.

"Can I see it?" "Yeah" I said happily. Then something jogged his memory, "Oh, wait. We aren't supposed to do that are we? Not while we're in public, you can wait 'till we're home" I tried my best not to frown.

I suppose he hadn't been back yet, what little stuff I had in his house and Mums had already been moved to the Burrow by the Order. "Nah, don't sweat it, It'll be quick, and nobody will notice, new magic innit', won't know what they're looking at."

"Are you sure?" "Yeah, but you'll have to get close to see it, watch" He stared at my wand and waited for something. "Love you Dad" He looked confused and said, "Love you too son?"

My hand was a little shaky, just pointing my wand felt like an eternity in itself, I was still having an internal struggle. Thoughts in my head trying to sway me one way or the other, "You don't have to do this, the Order can keep him safe" or "You can't risk it, if we don't he could get hurt"

"Obliviate" I whispered out the word, not because I wanted to be sneaky, just because I barely got the word out. I think he realised, just a quarter second before I cast it, he seemed to have a little grin on his face, his eyes flicked to me almost knowingly.

I've experienced spells that broke my body, I've experienced horrible agony of splinching, the unnerving sensation of being face to face with dementors and I've been only one shield away from dying instantly, but It was the hardest spell I'd ever had to cast.

I watched as a blink of shock hit his eyes, then confusion, and then basically nothing at all. My Dad was staring me in the face, and he didn't even know who I was. I walked forward as if we had just collided.

I pulled out the wallet I had prepared earlier, full of Muggle money and some train and plane tickets. Put on the best smile I could manage and prepared myself. Kingsley said that the Order could make them go anywhere in the world, they could confund Muggle customs if needs be.

They had thought of everything, every contingency to keep him safe, he didn't even know his real name right now, Kingsley had promised he was one of the most well protected people on the planet during our train ride over. But he couldn't plan for me.

There was something I didn't tell Kingsley, or anyone, a last glimmer of hope that I provided myself that this wouldn't have to happen. What nobody knew was this wallet wasn't just an ordinary one. Well, not to us at least.

I had to take the pictures out and took them for myself, so I could have the reminder, but the wallet was the thing that I was hoping would make all of this pointless.

It was Mum's, the one she always kept on her with pictures of me and my brother in it. I had hoped that this would somehow allow my father to hold on to some semblance of memory surrounding his family.

I was hoping against hope that yet again I could be too clever for my own good. That I could keep my Dad, he was the last person I had left. I couldn't just let him go now. I didn't want to be alone.

"You dropped this mate" He blinked a few times, smiled at me and said "Cheers, you're a lifesaver. wouldn't want to miss my train eh?" I nodded a little and started some small talk, hoping that he would look at the wallet and miraculously put the pieces together.

Then my heart broke, because he looked at it like he couldn't even see it, it was just a wallet after all, he cared much more about its contents then any attachment to the object itself. Still, I had to press on with my plan.

So I asked politely "Where you headed?" and in that second I decided his location and put the plan into his head, restraining myself from jogging his memory. His brow furrowed but then he said "Manchester Airport, then Argentina, plane leaves this afternoon" he said in a tone that felt a little forced.

The tone of talking to someone you didn't know. "Sounds like a plan, hear the weather's lovely there" I said, trying to force back tears. He turned to head towards the timetable for his train and said "Thanks again"

"No problem have a nice day" I said, walking off to meet Kingsley before I could convince myself not to. "You too" he said absentmindedly as he sat down to await the arrival of his train.

I thought casting the spell would be the worst part, I was wrong, walking away was. I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from sobbing.

Because everything in me wanted to turn around and scream at him, beg him to recognise me. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened at Hogwarts this year even if he didn't understand a word and it took him ages to wrap his head around the simplest things

First, I wanted to tell him how well I managed to do on my O.W.L.S even though he had no idea what the grades meant. I wished I could tell him how excited I was that I did so well and tell him how funny it was to me that Hermione was upset about not getting all Outstanding's.

I was curious how he'd feel when I told him that Harry loved his present and wanted to thank him for his help, or when I started my own little tinkering project with a couple of empty bottles.

I wanted to tell him all the clever and sly ways I managed to sneak my prank items into Hogwarts, and how the caretaker had started to grow on me despite our rivalry. I wanted him to laugh and tell me that things work out that way sometimes.

I had so many stories to tell him, how I almost won a potion that made you lucky, how we tricked my friend into thinking he drank it and it got him a girlfriend.

How me and that same friend accidentally got dosed with love potion and paraded around the castle declaring our love for a girl we barely knew like absolute idiots. Or that I don't think I'd ever drink alcohol again; I think he'd like that bit.

I wanted to tell him how fun it was to get invited to a super posh club by a new teacher and then get kicked out because I had to knock some sense into another member who was a total pillock that didn't like me because I almost killed him with a spoon.

I'd tell him about that same pillock almost taking Harry's head off during a Quidditch match but we won the Quidditch Cup anyway because our new team was amazing. I'd tell him Ginny and Harry finally got together.

I wasn't going to tell him about all the bad stuff, I didn't want him to worry, so I'd leave out the blood soaked bathroom fight and the Death Eater attack, I would tell him our Headmaster had passed away but not the circumstance around his death.

I'd tell him all the interesting things I did, going to Quidditch try outs, encountering a thief, laughing at the brilliant new commentator at one of the Quidditch matches, going to the funeral for a spider.

I wanted to tell him about the belt Mum had got me, I wanted to ask if he knew about it, and while I was at it I'd also ask him if he knew the rules of being on a break with you're girlfriend or if it's written down somewhere.

These stories were only the tip of the iceberg, I wanted to bore him to death with stories, tell him about all the times I had laughed and cried, all the times I was scared for my life but fought on anyway, all the time's I'd missed him and Mum.

But I couldn't, as much as I wanted to I couldn't. I had to hold it in, because right now to him I was just another stranger going about my day. As I walked back to Kingsley to tell him where my father was off to.

I remembered the encouragement he gave me. "Not forever, just for now." It gave me a lot of comfort. The phrase helped, but it was something my father himself used to say to me that helped the most, a simple phrase, "Let it be."

What's done was done and I couldn't turn back now. When the pain got too much, when I thought the solitude was unbearable it was these two phrases that kept me going. And that was all I needed because right now I couldn't change it.

Knowing that this pain, no matter how much it hurt was going to stop, it might take a while and it wasn't always easy, but pain doesn't always last forever.

Just like every other emotion, the pain would come and go and even if it didn't, that was fine. Because I had people who loved me enough to suffer through it with me.

Those were the people that kept me strong through the pain, because as much as pain hurt. It would pass, eventually. But love, laughter, happiness and joy, those emotions could last far longer.

As long as you had people to share them with those emotions would never fade, it didn't matter if you forgot the moments or the stories, the feelings behind them.

It was the people you shared them with, the emotions they stirred up, they were truly unforgettable, they would last forever, not in your memory, in your heart.