The rain pelted down onto the black umbrellas as the winter weather began. The people were all dressed in black, some stood with grave expressions on their faces others had tears. But one little girl stood at the front of the crowd was simply confused, in the last week her life had dramatically changed and now here she was at the cemetery watching the caskets of her parents being lowered into the ground.
The people watched as the war heroes were finally at rest but Rose knew that many of the people present had probably never met her parents; they just wanted to be parent of the moment, part of history.
Pulling her hood over her head she started to walk away, no one noticed the absent girl as she trekked further into the graveyard. She noticed the graves got older then older and soon the writing became unreadable. Rose only stopped on her walk when she noticed a man hiding in the bushes watching the proceedings from afar. He had dark black greasy hair, a long hooked nose and tears endlessly flowing like a waterfall from his dark eyes.
Rose found it peculiar, why wouldn’t the man go closer and join the crowd; he looked like he cared deeply for her parent unlike many of the bystanders actually present.
He gave out a barely audible “I’m so sorry” and apparated in hast. Dropping a small photograph.
Rose went closer to were he had been and found the photo. It was her mother, but her mother during her Hogwarts years about twelve or thirteen; with a boy of the same age in fact it was a younger version of the man who had dropped the photo. So it must be his picture. It was a muggle photo so they were still, holding the moment forever. They were standing at platform nine and three quarters, which her parents had talked about often, in the Hogwarts robes. But what Rose surprisingly noticed was that although her mum was dressed in her pristine Gryffindor robes, the boy was in Slytherin. Her mum never said she had any friends from slytherin before and she knew her dad always hated slytherins. Perhaps there were many things she never really understood after all she was only eight.
But looking at her mother’s photo she felt a swarm of pride. She looked just like her mum; although people constantly said it she felt better seeing it for herself. Even though she had her Daddy’s eyes, the eyes of mischief her mum always said. Rose pocketed the picture hoping on day she would see the man again to return the photograph.
She knew she would have to return soon it would probably be over and then Emma would be upset because she was missing. But as she returned to the crowd she saw a thin woman with blonde hair standing by the entrance to the graveyard. She carried a stern expression which made Rose think the woman was extremely uncomfortable being here but part of her just had to be present. There was something about her Rose recognised but she was unsure what, but when the woman noticed Rose watching her she let out a loud gasp of shock like she had seen a ghost. She stared at Rose for a while, not sure what to do Rose stared back until the women came to her senses and stormed off. But Rose was still unable to place her in her memory.
The funeral proceedings were finally over and Rose started to approach Remus with his usual grave expression hugging a crying Emma. As she got closer she over heard the conversation.
“I can’t do this Remus, how am I supposed to do this, she had nightmares every night, I can hear her screaming, and how could he, how could Sirius do this, I just don’t understand”
“I don’t know Emma, I just don’t know, but for their memories and for Rosie” he formulated as a reply
Emma saw Rose approach and ran over puling her into a strong embrace, “oh were gave you been, I’ve been so worried, come on I will take you home”
But Rose just wasn’t sure what home was anymore.
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