Chapter 1 : Mother
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A forty-nine year old Harry Potter pushed his glasses up the crest of his nose. He had been gazing down at the paper in his hand so long that his specs were sliding off the slope of his nose. Ten rows of chairs were surrounding a short platform that held a podium and a cherry, brown casket, with a white tarp overtop of the whole group. Harry looked up from his station at the podium and gazed at the throng of individuals in front of him. Soundless tears were flowing from their eyes like gentle waterfalls found high up in the mountains. Harry forced himself to stay strong and not let his tears fall. Not here.
"I will always remember the first time I came across this red-haired woman. It was at Kings Cross Station. That's where it all began. I was terrified, anxious, lost, and confused. And then there she was. Smiling. Just smiling because she was with the people she cared about most; her family. It's amusing to think that if it had been someone other than her, who had shown me how to get onto that Platform, I may have never become a part of the Weasley family. One moment, one small and seemingly insignificant moment, changed my life. It may have even altered history. I will never forget meeting Mrs. Weasley."
Harry flipped the sheet over. The wind began to pick up and he was forced to hold down the fluttering paper with both hands. He took a shallow breath before continuing.
"I remember the very first Christmas present I ever received, aside from a pair of dirty socks from the Dursley’s, was from Mrs. Weasley. It was a hand-made, emerald green sweater. I still have it. I'd still wear it if it fit me. Fortunately for me and everyone else Mrs. Weasley cared about, we received a sweater every year. Every single year.
"And then those many summers where she allowed me to stay at the Burrow. I couldn't tell her enough how grateful I was for that. The Burrow felt like the home I always wanted. It was the first place I really felt wanted."
Harry looked up at the crowd again. He looked into the eyes of his wife, Ginny, and she gave him a soft smile through her tears. Harry managed to smile back before shifting his pages around. His voice was growing hoarse, but he continued reading.
"Mrs. Weasley cared so much for her family. She was so in love with her husband," Harry nodded toward Arthur Weasley, who managed a quick smile, "and all her children. Seven of them. And I can't even tell you how much she cared for her grandchildren. There's no way to put that into words. Nothing I can say will ever compare to the amount of love she had. It was in her eyes, though; the love. You could see it, sense it even. They lit up like stars filling the midnight sky; twinklling with delight."
Harry turned over the page and heaved a long, sad, pain-filled sigh. The wind blew through his hair and sent a shiver down his spine.
"Her memory will live on even though she is no longer with us. Not one person will ever forget what a generous person she was. I regret not telling her each and every day how much I appreciated her. How much I appreciated everything she had done for me and how much she meant to me. If it wasn't for her, I don't know where I would be right now.
"Molly Weasley," Harry looked away from his page and turned to look at the casket that held the red-haired woman. "Please, give Fred a hug from all of us. We know how much you've missed him, we all miss him, and I'm so glad you're both being reunited. You both lived too-short of lives, but I know you'll be happy together. May you both watch over all of us until we are all reunited.”
Harry’s voice grew strained as he continued to speak.
"I love you. You were the only mom I ever knew, and I--” Tears began leaking from his eyes, staining the paper in his hand. It was several moments before he could find his voice. "I feel so privileged to be called your son."
He couldn't stop the tears, and he didn't want to either. He lingered for only a second, then made his way down from the podium and settled in between Ginny and his daughter, stuffing the pages into his pocket along the way. Ginny gripped his hand and squeezed tightly, her own tears falling from her cheeks. Lily placed her head against her father’s shoulder and he gently ran his fingers through her rosy curls. From behind, Hermione Granger grasped his shoulder in comfort, her own tears flowing continuously from her puffy and red eyes.
“That was beautiful,” she whispered into his ear before sitting back into her seat and leaning into Ron’s arms. He buried his head into Hermione’s hair and cried long and hard.
No one spoke after that. Each person cried quietly in their seats, perfectly content with the silence.
And somehow, as another gust of wind brushed over them, they all knew that Molly was watching over them and that everything would be okay. One by one, the chairs grew emptier and emptier as the day grew shorter until all that was left was an aged, gray-haired man.
Arthur Weasley stood by his wife, took her cold hand in his, and kissed it tenderly.
"I miss you, Molly," he whispered. "I picked a spot for you to rest. Right next to Fred. I know you’ll like it there, it gorgeous. Well, you would know, you picked the spot after Fred passed on. And one day, I promise I will join you both. But until then, I'll keep watch over our family. For you. I'll make sure they're okay.
"And when we meet again, I will never let you go."
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