The Boy Who Lived - Revised and updated - Chapter 2, part 2 - Audiobook

The Boy Who Lived, by Louise Charlton. Chapter 2, The Sole Survivor. The Burrow took longer than usual to wake up the following morning. It was well past dawn before Percy woke, just seconds after Mrs Weasley and he Apparated to London before breakfast was even served. Mr Weasley followed shortly after, stuffing a bread roll into his mouth as he went, remarking through a mouthful of bread about all the changes they were having to implement by order of the temporary Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Throughout the morning, Weasleys began to emerge at the breakfast table, starting with Hermione, who came down fully dressed with a very tired Ginny. Charlie and Ron came down next and by the time George came down, Ron was the only one left at the table, being served third helpings by Mrs Weasley. 'Some things never change, eh, Ron?' George remarked as he flopped onto a seat at the breakfast table. 'What?' Ron asked, puzzled, his hands hovering slightly over his plate, ready to tuck into his new plate of breakfast. George chuckled slightly. 'Do you ever stop… Never mind.' His grin faded and a silent wave of sadness washed through his entire body. He averted his eyes from Ron and, looking for something else to focus on, found a bread roll. But after looking at it for a good thirty seconds, Mrs Weasley dropped it onto his plate, pulling him out of his reverie. Feeling his mother's eyes burning the back of his skull, George picked at his food and even managed a couple of bites before losing his appetite, pushing his plate away, and shuffling upstairs to his room. * After the nostalgia of the previous night, George's mood cast a gloomy atmosphere over everyone at The Burrow. Mr Weasley returned to a silent house after work, when the Weasleys (minus George and Ginny) planned Fred's funeral. In addition, Mr Weasley and Percy often came home with reports of the capturing of more Death Eaters and the discovery of more bodies, both wizard and Muggle alike. 'What are you going to do with the bodies?' Bill asked one night after dinner, much to the dislike of Mrs Weasley, having heard about another body that had been discovered. 'We will bury them in a Ministry graveyard' Percy announced, rather pompously. 'What d'you mean, “a Ministry graveyard”?' Bill enquired, curiously. 'Well, carrying on the good work of the Order of the Phoenix during the War, the Ministry has found some land suitable to bury the victims who have no final resting place. We started today and will bury them as we find them; the Minister attended personally today.' Percy replied, making no effort to hide the pride in his voice. 'Andromeda joined us this morning when we lay Remus and Tonks to rest' he added. Mrs Weasley, who had just sipped some pumpkin juice, nearly spat it out all over her son. 'Remus and Tonks lying at the bottom of some random field somewhere?! And Andromeda let you?!' Her horror was evident, but didn't phase Percy or Mr Weasley, the latter of whom reached out an arm and calmly reasoned with his wife. 'Well, we approached her, but she was very distressed, and actually very glad of our help. We all know it's not ideal, but under the circumstances, this is the best we can hope for. There will be an announcement in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning informing the wizarding population of these events so that they can pay their respects individually' Mr Weasley finished. 'Yes, I suppose their situation was difficult, with Remus not able to work. And looking at little Teddy everyday must be devastating for Andromeda, having lost her only child' Mrs Weasley concluded, her words petering off as her understanding of grief deepened. Mr Weasley gave his wife's arm a reassuring squeeze and reasoned 'In time, she will look at Teddy and remember her daughter with a smile. The Ministry will remember her, not only as a victim of this terrible war, but also as a fine Auror who served the wizarding community even to the very end... I'll certainly never forget her.' 'Nor will I' Bill contributed, his words echoing around the unusually quiet room. After a few seconds of solemn silence, Charlie chimed 'She was a bit of a catastrophe even when she was at school; constantly knocking things over... She was in my year at school' he added, on seeing Ron's puzzled expression. 'But she always had a good heart and a wicked sense of humour' he continued. 'She once metamorphasised into Dumbledore and spent the afternoon stalking about the Castle telling students off for stupid things like not ironing their socks.' By this point, Charlie gave in to the laughter that had overcome him. Finally, after several minutes of laughter and heavy breathing to calm himself, he finished 'She was in detention for weeks, but Dumbledore was flattered.' Once again, Charlie gave way to his laughter, and most of the others also joined in; even Percy managed a small giggle. But Mrs Weasley didn't laugh. Especially when she witnessed two figures creep into the kitchen unnoticed. Twice a day since their return to The Burrow, George and Ginny had grabbed some food from the pantry and retreated back upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Whilst Mrs Weasley was concerned for their well-being, she didn't push them too hard to join the family for meals, especially not while the talk was so sombre. Losing Fred had been tough for them all and she now understood that grief affected people in different ways. * Meanwhile at number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, an aged house-elf with large folds of light, saggy skin and long, white hairs sprouting copiously from his bat-like ears, was startled by the arrival of a tiny, energetic owl bearing a red, smoking envelope. Looking down his snoutlike nose with a look of complete repulsion, the hunchbacked elf shuffled towards the owl and read the untidy scrawl on the outside. Giving a small 'huff', Kreacher grasped the tiny owl in his long, thin fingers, holding it at arm's length, and ascended the stairs, the owl squirming frantically between his fingers. Giving a brief bow of his head as he passed a set of dusty, moth-ridden curtains on the landing, he tiptoed up the stairs, his tiny frame not enough to even creak the stair. He then made his way to the door of the Drawing Room. Slowly pushing it open, Kreacher croaked 'Master Harry, an owl for you' as he stepped into the room, eyeing Harry suspiciously, as if he were a wild animal ready to pounce. But the haggard figure, who was looking blankly at the tapestry burned in many places, simply blinked and looked on again. Harry wasn't sure what it was about the tapestry, but somehow it channelled his feelings into a numbness, which was more bearable than an overwhelming mix of emotions. Over the past few days, Harry had spent all day in front of the tapestry until crawling into bed, sleeping badly, and then repeating the process again at dawn. Ignoring Kreacher was easy enough, but after enduring several minutes of constant pecking from Pigwidgeon, Harry was forced to take notice of the red envelope that was smoking profusely. Harry knew what was coming and sure enough, Ron's voice boomed from within the envelope just seconds later. It was wasted, Harry thought as the words washed over him: he heard the odd word here and there, but they failed to sink in. Once silence had once again resonated throughout the house, Harry lingered only a moment on Ron's message before resuming his contemplated focus on the tapestry. His usual routine continued for another couple of days until the arrival of a handsome screech owl. This one flew right up to the Drawing Room window and pecked continually until Harry, fed up, walked over to the window and let the bird in. On seeing Hermes sitting majestically on the windowledge, Harry thought of how much alike the owl was to his pompous, power-hungry owner Percy But why would Percy write to me? Harry thought, confused. On reaching out to take the letter from the owl, Harry recognised the neat handwriting on the outside of the envelope: Hermione's. He was so shocked to see her writing on the envelope that his curiosity overtook his grief to the point where he had now turned the envelope over and opened it without realising. After a few minutes of unfocussed glancing, Harry managed to take in the uncharacteristically short letter. Harry, I understand that you wish to be left alone for now, so I will keep things as brief as I can. Fred's funeral will be held this Friday, the 15th of May, at sunset. He will be buried in Ottery St Catchpole's graveyard, tucked away from the Muggles behind the Willow tree in the far corner. We are then invited to a celebration of his life after this at the Burrow. Mr and Mrs Weasley would love to see you, and if you would like to come, I can meet you on Stoatshead Hill at dawn on Friday. And now that most of the victims of the War have been buried, Kingsley is organising for a number of Memorials to be erected in wizarding communities across the country on Saturday, the 16th of May. If you would like to help, please contact him as soon as possible. Also, we found out yesterday that the Hogwarts repairs will begin on Monday, the 18th of May. Contact Professor McGonagall for more details. Everyone here is fine, although George and Ginny are quite sombre: hopefully they will perk up after the funeral. See you soon, Hermione. P.S. Ron is really mad, just a heads up! Well, Hermione had certainly kept it brief, but as Harry read the last sentence again, he felt a rush of shame: he'd abandoned Ginny. He'd abandoned them all. But he knew what he needed to do. 'Kreacher' he called. His throat was rather hoarse, speaking for the first time in several days. 'Master' Kreacher's familiar bullfrog tones replied. As he emerged, Harry saw his bloodshot eyes wide in terror, their cold grey irises barely visible around two dilated pupils. Harry tried to keep his voice smooth, and so gently cleared his throat, causing Kreacher to flinch in expectation of something sinister. Determined to squash Kreacher's fears, Harry cooly asked him 'D'you know where the nearest owl Post Office is? It's just, I've got a few letters to write and I don't have an owl.' And, suddenly feeling ravenously hungry, he added 'Also, what's for dinner? I'm starving!'