The Pallbearer
Title: The Pallbearer
Author: pixies_pirates
Fandom: Harry Potter
Chapter: One Shot
Characters/Pairings: various
Word Count: around 1580
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Read at your own peril.
Summary: Harry Potter attends the funeral of Severus Snape.
“It’s time, Harry.”
Harry snapped out of his trance and looked over his shoulder. Even in the grey and black garb of mourning, Ginny looked much like a mischievous nymph to Harry. Ginny’s arms had encircled around his shoulders as he sat at the bench directly across from the statue which marked his parents’ graves. He had visited them everyday during the past couple of weeks, pondering and watching the pile of thank you notes, candles, and bouquets grow as large as it must have been when they were recently buried. Harry reached up and clasped his hand loosely around one of Ginny’s wrists.
“I know.” He turned his head, kissing her cheek, before he stood up and stretched. “I’m surprised the paparazzi aren’t swarming all over the place.”
“Hermione personally invited Skeeter to cover it for a Prophet exclusive. Fat chance she’ll try anything funny in the article with Hermione sitting on the same pew with her,” Came Ron’s voice from up the path. His comment was followed by a grunt as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“It was the only way to ensure the most privacy, Ron. It was the least I could do.”
“True. But, you know, he’s Snape.”
“Precisely that is why McGonagall convinced the Ministry to postpone his burial.”
Harry recalled the memory of McGonagall in the Headmaster’s office after viewing his ex-Potions professor’s memories in the Pensive. Her eyes had misted over under the spectacles and she had put a hand to her cheek. Despite their differences and being forced to tolerate Death Eaters in the halls of her beloved school, somewhere inside McGonagall had harbored a spark resembling respect for her fellow teacher that had nearly extinguished, but now found new life. McGonagall wasn't sure if it could be called respect, since she never did and never would approve of how Snape had belittled students of other houses and blatantly favored those of his own. If not that, it was new found understanding for why Snape had been troubled all those years. She had never fully known him, for he kept himself as bottled up inside as one of his most expensive ingredients. However, McGonagall knew him as an entirely private and solitary man and she knew that in death, he would still want to be.
Harry paid for the plot himself. The decision was made to bury him in Godric’s Hollow. Initially, it was questioned by McGonagall and the others, but Harry remained insistent. Spinner’s End was not the place for his final rest, being too close to where Eileen and Tobias Snape were buried and bad memories. Nor was Hogwarts, due to the controversy of burying a murderer (though a merciful, obiedent one) near his victim. Though Hogsmeade was a good choice, Godric's felt the best.
However, Harry felt uneasy over the whole affair as the group walked in silence up the path. He still wasn’t sure how he should feel about the man who cast a shadow over his education and marked down his papers out of spite. He was not sure how he felt about the fact that Snape had loved his mother. Though uncomfortable with the idea, he forced himself to accept it as fact.
The mourners flowed into the oaken pews. It was an indoor service, for the threat of rain clouds hovered over Godric’s Hollow for the past three days. Most of the Order and the Professors, who were not confined to their hospital beds, turned up, along with a few officials from the Magical Law Enforcement Office to provide security. Almost nearly a month since the attack on Hogwarts, a few Death Eaters remained on the run. The slight possibility that they could pull a stunt to desecrate the grave or disturb the service was a concern, but Harry found it unlikely. They fled the battle with their tails between their legs and there was only a marginal possibility they'd resurface anytime soon.
As Ginny put it, "They won't, if they have any brains or wish to remain out of Azkaban."
However, Harry wondered what Snape thought of there being more Gryffindors in attendance than Slytherins. Neville, Seamus and Dean had surprisingly shown up. Harry did a double-take when he noticed Dean’s hand clasped in Luna Lovegood’s.
Draco Malfoy had been captured right after the fall of Voldemort and was still in custody, pending inquiry into his role in the Death Eaters and in the death of Dumbledore. He slunk into the back of the church with a couple guards, pulling his black cap low. Draco’s eyes locked momentarily on Harry’s before they returned his gaze to his lap. He had regained some weight he had lost over the past year, but even from the front of the church, Harry noted new creases in Draco's weary face.
To Harry, the whole affair felt generally strange. Professor Severus Snape did not look as frightening in his rosewood casket. His face, once terrifying, was waxen and slack. His body looked fragile, yet venerable. He didn’t look like an angel, with his grotesque visage, but more like a mummy or the vampire Ron theorized Snape was back in second year. Harry was relieved that whoever had prepared him for his final adventure, his decent into the earth, did a fantastic cover-up job on the deep gashes where Nagini’s fangs had sunk in and ripped.
He partially listened to the priest. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder, though she was perhaps more attentive to the service. Harry found it difficult to take his eyes away the casket and the corpse it contained. He half-expected for Snape to rise out of his pillow-lined box and bolt down the center aisle, out of the church, with his black robes flapping behind him. It would be like Snape to try and get the last laugh on Sirius Black by defying what Sirius hadn’t, but Harry had: death.
Flitwick gave the eulogy, which was, as no surprise, beautifully composed as one expected of the Ravenclaw Head of House. He spoke not of flattery, but of fact. Slughorn also said a few words about how Snape dignified his house. Halfway through Flitwick's speech, Hermione was bawling and Ron rubbed her back, trying get her to calm down.
“Really can’t believe he’s gone. It seemed like he’d live forever, just to haunt the dungeons, greasy git.” Ron murmured in an apologetic tone. Sitting behind the trio was his mother, who thankfully hadn’t heard him. George had and covered his own mouth. Hermione was too busy wiping her eyes.
Despite Hermione and Hagrid, with his tablecloth-for-a-handkerchief, along with a couple sniffles from McGonagall and Slughorn; the funeral was relatively tear-free. The most hysterical mourner was Filch, who had lost his partner in catching students out of bed at night. Mrs. Norris, though good company, could not hand out detentions.
Solemnly, they rose and formed a line. Harry found himself the first to approach the casket. As he leaned over to look at the face of his childhood antagonist for the last time, he tried to think of what to say, but it felt like the Gobi had decided to take a vacation in his throat.
“Um, thank you,” Was all he could manage. It certainly wasn’t the most poetic thing, but it felt right. The tension and apprehension he felt in the cemetery ushered out of him and swept away. It became replaced by a peaceful, silent understanding, formed between student and teacher. Although he could never forgive all that Snape had done, Harry had to admit that if it had not been for Snape, he probably would not have made it to his seventh year at Hogwarts, nor would he have lived to defeat Lord Voldemort. Even if it was Snape’s fault that Lord Voldemort had learned of the prophecy, his parents probably wouldn’t have been sent into hiding if not for the deal he made with Dumbledore and Harry would not have gotten that one year of happiness with them. In fact, he would have been dead. For that, Harry could only express gratitude.
His fingers brushed Snape’s cold ones on accident as he laid the Lily of the Valley on his chest. Returning to his seat, Harry swore he saw Ron rub his face as Ron returned hurriedly to his seat. Draco was the last to approach, with his escorts. No tears streaked his cheeks, but his lips tightly pressed together and his shoulders shook. He, too, leaned over and whispered something private to Snape, but it was too soft for Harry’s ears. Draco covered his face with his left hand as he walked away.
The coffin shut. Although wizards liked to use magic for pretty much everything, from scooping cat litter to pouring wine, it was considered poor taste to use a wand to bear the dead. Along with Percy, George, Lee, Ron, and Kingsley, Harry lifted the box. The sky had not split open as the Pallbearers carried Snape out of the church. It was not until that evening, long after the service ended, that it rained.
Severus Snape’s final resting place was two rows behind and seven plots to the left of Lily Evans Potter’s. It would never see as many visitors as the Potters would, but occasionally a flower would be found, left on the mound by an anonymous visitor, and the glimmer of a candle would reflect against the green Tuscan marble headstone. The inscription read:
It is our choices… that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.*
*J.K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
The usual thanks to kzerina for beta-ing.
Author: pixies_pirates
Fandom: Harry Potter
Chapter: One Shot
Characters/Pairings: various
Word Count: around 1580
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Read at your own peril.
Summary: Harry Potter attends the funeral of Severus Snape.
“It’s time, Harry.”
Harry snapped out of his trance and looked over his shoulder. Even in the grey and black garb of mourning, Ginny looked much like a mischievous nymph to Harry. Ginny’s arms had encircled around his shoulders as he sat at the bench directly across from the statue which marked his parents’ graves. He had visited them everyday during the past couple of weeks, pondering and watching the pile of thank you notes, candles, and bouquets grow as large as it must have been when they were recently buried. Harry reached up and clasped his hand loosely around one of Ginny’s wrists.
“I know.” He turned his head, kissing her cheek, before he stood up and stretched. “I’m surprised the paparazzi aren’t swarming all over the place.”
“Hermione personally invited Skeeter to cover it for a Prophet exclusive. Fat chance she’ll try anything funny in the article with Hermione sitting on the same pew with her,” Came Ron’s voice from up the path. His comment was followed by a grunt as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“It was the only way to ensure the most privacy, Ron. It was the least I could do.”
“True. But, you know, he’s Snape.”
“Precisely that is why McGonagall convinced the Ministry to postpone his burial.”
Harry recalled the memory of McGonagall in the Headmaster’s office after viewing his ex-Potions professor’s memories in the Pensive. Her eyes had misted over under the spectacles and she had put a hand to her cheek. Despite their differences and being forced to tolerate Death Eaters in the halls of her beloved school, somewhere inside McGonagall had harbored a spark resembling respect for her fellow teacher that had nearly extinguished, but now found new life. McGonagall wasn't sure if it could be called respect, since she never did and never would approve of how Snape had belittled students of other houses and blatantly favored those of his own. If not that, it was new found understanding for why Snape had been troubled all those years. She had never fully known him, for he kept himself as bottled up inside as one of his most expensive ingredients. However, McGonagall knew him as an entirely private and solitary man and she knew that in death, he would still want to be.
Harry paid for the plot himself. The decision was made to bury him in Godric’s Hollow. Initially, it was questioned by McGonagall and the others, but Harry remained insistent. Spinner’s End was not the place for his final rest, being too close to where Eileen and Tobias Snape were buried and bad memories. Nor was Hogwarts, due to the controversy of burying a murderer (though a merciful, obiedent one) near his victim. Though Hogsmeade was a good choice, Godric's felt the best.
However, Harry felt uneasy over the whole affair as the group walked in silence up the path. He still wasn’t sure how he should feel about the man who cast a shadow over his education and marked down his papers out of spite. He was not sure how he felt about the fact that Snape had loved his mother. Though uncomfortable with the idea, he forced himself to accept it as fact.
The mourners flowed into the oaken pews. It was an indoor service, for the threat of rain clouds hovered over Godric’s Hollow for the past three days. Most of the Order and the Professors, who were not confined to their hospital beds, turned up, along with a few officials from the Magical Law Enforcement Office to provide security. Almost nearly a month since the attack on Hogwarts, a few Death Eaters remained on the run. The slight possibility that they could pull a stunt to desecrate the grave or disturb the service was a concern, but Harry found it unlikely. They fled the battle with their tails between their legs and there was only a marginal possibility they'd resurface anytime soon.
As Ginny put it, "They won't, if they have any brains or wish to remain out of Azkaban."
However, Harry wondered what Snape thought of there being more Gryffindors in attendance than Slytherins. Neville, Seamus and Dean had surprisingly shown up. Harry did a double-take when he noticed Dean’s hand clasped in Luna Lovegood’s.
Draco Malfoy had been captured right after the fall of Voldemort and was still in custody, pending inquiry into his role in the Death Eaters and in the death of Dumbledore. He slunk into the back of the church with a couple guards, pulling his black cap low. Draco’s eyes locked momentarily on Harry’s before they returned his gaze to his lap. He had regained some weight he had lost over the past year, but even from the front of the church, Harry noted new creases in Draco's weary face.
To Harry, the whole affair felt generally strange. Professor Severus Snape did not look as frightening in his rosewood casket. His face, once terrifying, was waxen and slack. His body looked fragile, yet venerable. He didn’t look like an angel, with his grotesque visage, but more like a mummy or the vampire Ron theorized Snape was back in second year. Harry was relieved that whoever had prepared him for his final adventure, his decent into the earth, did a fantastic cover-up job on the deep gashes where Nagini’s fangs had sunk in and ripped.
He partially listened to the priest. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder, though she was perhaps more attentive to the service. Harry found it difficult to take his eyes away the casket and the corpse it contained. He half-expected for Snape to rise out of his pillow-lined box and bolt down the center aisle, out of the church, with his black robes flapping behind him. It would be like Snape to try and get the last laugh on Sirius Black by defying what Sirius hadn’t, but Harry had: death.
Flitwick gave the eulogy, which was, as no surprise, beautifully composed as one expected of the Ravenclaw Head of House. He spoke not of flattery, but of fact. Slughorn also said a few words about how Snape dignified his house. Halfway through Flitwick's speech, Hermione was bawling and Ron rubbed her back, trying get her to calm down.
“Really can’t believe he’s gone. It seemed like he’d live forever, just to haunt the dungeons, greasy git.” Ron murmured in an apologetic tone. Sitting behind the trio was his mother, who thankfully hadn’t heard him. George had and covered his own mouth. Hermione was too busy wiping her eyes.
Despite Hermione and Hagrid, with his tablecloth-for-a-handkerchief, along with a couple sniffles from McGonagall and Slughorn; the funeral was relatively tear-free. The most hysterical mourner was Filch, who had lost his partner in catching students out of bed at night. Mrs. Norris, though good company, could not hand out detentions.
Solemnly, they rose and formed a line. Harry found himself the first to approach the casket. As he leaned over to look at the face of his childhood antagonist for the last time, he tried to think of what to say, but it felt like the Gobi had decided to take a vacation in his throat.
“Um, thank you,” Was all he could manage. It certainly wasn’t the most poetic thing, but it felt right. The tension and apprehension he felt in the cemetery ushered out of him and swept away. It became replaced by a peaceful, silent understanding, formed between student and teacher. Although he could never forgive all that Snape had done, Harry had to admit that if it had not been for Snape, he probably would not have made it to his seventh year at Hogwarts, nor would he have lived to defeat Lord Voldemort. Even if it was Snape’s fault that Lord Voldemort had learned of the prophecy, his parents probably wouldn’t have been sent into hiding if not for the deal he made with Dumbledore and Harry would not have gotten that one year of happiness with them. In fact, he would have been dead. For that, Harry could only express gratitude.
His fingers brushed Snape’s cold ones on accident as he laid the Lily of the Valley on his chest. Returning to his seat, Harry swore he saw Ron rub his face as Ron returned hurriedly to his seat. Draco was the last to approach, with his escorts. No tears streaked his cheeks, but his lips tightly pressed together and his shoulders shook. He, too, leaned over and whispered something private to Snape, but it was too soft for Harry’s ears. Draco covered his face with his left hand as he walked away.
The coffin shut. Although wizards liked to use magic for pretty much everything, from scooping cat litter to pouring wine, it was considered poor taste to use a wand to bear the dead. Along with Percy, George, Lee, Ron, and Kingsley, Harry lifted the box. The sky had not split open as the Pallbearers carried Snape out of the church. It was not until that evening, long after the service ended, that it rained.
Severus Snape’s final resting place was two rows behind and seven plots to the left of Lily Evans Potter’s. It would never see as many visitors as the Potters would, but occasionally a flower would be found, left on the mound by an anonymous visitor, and the glimmer of a candle would reflect against the green Tuscan marble headstone. The inscription read:
It is our choices… that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.*
*J.K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
The usual thanks to kzerina for beta-ing.