George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 38: Memorial

May 2, 1999

The day was warm and grey. Low clouds scudded across the sky. Occasionally, a fine mist would descend from one of them for a short while. Otherwise the air was still. The army of workers who usually surrounded the castle, rebuilding it where possible and expanding it elsewhere when not, was silent today out of respect. Shops were shuttered; the Ministry offices were closed. It was a national day of mourning.

By midday, a vast throng of people had assembled on the damp grounds of Hogwarts. Directly in front of a large, veiled monument, in the shadow of the still-ruined section of the castle, were a hundred and fifty chairs arranged in prim rows. Each seat was filled with a mourner of one of the fallen heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was now known. Spread out behind the seated was a solemn crowd of at least twice as many people, standing shoulder to shoulder, clad in dark robes, staring gravely ahead.

The entire Weasley family was seated near the front, surrounded by their usual retinue of otherwise family-less Order members. The ranks of honorary Weasleys were burgeoning at this point. Molly seemed to be a magnet for orphans in dire need of a mother figure. Like myself, Annie mused.

Annie and George sat together at the end of the row. It was well past the twins' usual naptime, and by some miracle, they had fallen asleep in their parents' arms.

Despite the mob of people, the air was quiet as everyone awaited the start of the ceremony. Annie watched as a very small man directed a choir of young people in a mournful song. Dignitaries she neither recognized nor had heard of stood and spoke briefly in turn.

It was painfully hard for her to pay attention to them. It was hard to be here at all. The monstrous grief within her rattled the bars of its cage. She tried to focus her attention instead on little Fred's innocent sleeping face, on his comforting weight in her arms.

Finally, the curtain fluttered then vanished, and the monument was unveiled. A gleaming white marble phoenix, captured in the moment of landing on its perch, with its wings curled like an embrace in front of its body, rested atop a six-foot-high by ten-foot-wide cubical base. Sitting as close as she was, Annie could see that more than a dozen names were carved on each of the two faces of the base closest to her: memorializing merely half the defenders of Hogwarts who had perished in the battle. She closed her eyes, rather than accidentally read his name.

A tall, elderly woman strode confidently to the front of the audience. In a strong, lovely brogue, she introduced the next speaker: Harry Potter. The man of the moment. The hero of it all.

The crowd behind the seated mourners began to murmur and rustle: this is what they had come to here see, what they had been waiting for with baited breath.

Harry walked purposefully up to the front, like he didn't really want to be there, and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. It had taken a great deal of coaxing and arguing and laying on of guilt-trips by a lot of different people to get him to speak here at all. He owed it to the ones who followed him, fought alongside him, and gave the ultimate sacrifice, they had all told him, until he finally gave in and agreed to come.

At least he didn't revel in it, this adoration people seemed to shower him with, Annie thought charitably. And as she had gotten to know him better during the past year, on a personal level as her sister-in-law's boyfriend, she was able to see he was a nice enough fellow. A bit overly serious, sometimes; perhaps a little too sensitive about some things.

Harry now turned to face the crowd, pointed his wand at his throat, and began to read from a piece of paper.

"We come together today to remember those who gave their lives one year ago. They did not die in glory, for nothing about war is ever glorious. They did however die with honor, defending Hogwarts, their families, and our comrades. They died protecting a way of life that values people, and love, more than power.

"Voldemort is gone. He was defeated because we were all willing to give our lives for something worth believing in. Every single one of the heroes we remember today made that choice of their own free will. They chose love, and were willing to die for it.

"We, who stand here today because of the sacrifice of our loved ones, must never forget. We must never let anyone ever forget.

"Let us honor their sacrifice by living the kind of lives they chose to defend. Lives committed to love, and justice, and what is right."

Perfect silence answered Harry's brief words: no animal moved, no breeze ruffled, no bird called. The only sounds that interrupted the quiet were a few scattered sniffs and muffled sobs from the ranks of the seated mourners.

After five minutes of mutely observed grief, the stately witch returned to dismiss the audience. The standing multitude turned and began walking back toward the village. The rest of the day and the school's grounds were reserved for the families of the heroic dead.

The seated mourners slowly began to rise and queue up to file past the monument. Each stood silently before the names that meant the most to them. Some gathered into various vessels a few drops of water that dripped from the marble bird's eyes into a small, shallow collection bowl before spilling over the edge and onto gravel below. Afterward, they greeted and consoled each other, spreading about the grounds, gathering into small groups which dynamically dispersed and re-formed anew.

The Weasleys held themselves back, and were one of the last families to arrive at the statue. They arranged themselves into a sort of semicircle before Fred's name for a few moments of silence. Molly and Arthur had silent tears on their cheeks, holding each other for comfort. The Weasley siblings stood stoically around them, gazing at the statue, or the ground, or the sky. They held their arms folded across their chests, or with clenched fists firmly shoved into pockets. Annie held George's free hand with her own; each of them still carried a sleeping infant in their arms.

George's breathing started to become irregular as he fought to maintain control. The uneven, jerking movements of his chest woke little Art, who reached up to his father's cheeks with innocent curiosity, to examine the tears he found there.

Annie heard George's struggle over the growing clatter within her own soul. Tears were coursing down her own cheeks as she handed the still-sleeping baby Fred to Charlie, then took little Art from her husband's arms to pass off to Ginny. The rest of the Weasleys retreated, leaving George and Annie to grieve in peace.

Annie held her husband in her arms as he gave up the battle for control. George bowed his head, burying his face in her hair, and cried as his trembling hand rested on Fred's carved name. Annie could barely hear his sobs over the cacophony the caged monster was making, having now fully awakened. It snarled and howled within her as she clung to George. They held each other and wept where they stood before the statue.

No one else, it seemed, was ready to leave. Several of the older generation struck up a song, and as more people joined in, the swelling sound of it broke through George and Annie's little shell of sadness. The crowd of voices united in a lovely, sad harmony, drawing their attention away from the turmoil within to the camaraderie surrounding them.

The worst of the grief-squall was spent now, the monster within Annie was quieting down again, and they began to compose themselves in order to rejoin the family.

"Sorry about your hair. I know how vain you are about it," George said with a half-smile as he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand.

"Don't you start with me - I'm in no mood whatsoever," she threatened, but with a timid answering smile and sniffle. They began to walk together toward their waiting family.

Annie smiled warmly at her very large family now encircling her, who were all smiling back at her, as they embraced each other in turn.

All except for Fleur, that is. Her normally serenely beautiful face was pale and haggard, anxiety shadowing her formerly lovely features. Annie wondered when this change had come over her - for she had been seated at the far end of the row from Fleur during the memorial ceremony, and of course had been preoccupied since.

"Fleur, are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

Her sister-in-law looked at her with frightened eyes. "I think perhaps I need to sit down," she replied.

Fleur gripped Annie's arm painfully as she helped her into the seat that had just flown to them and settled on the ground. Her grip didn't loosen once she sat, but held tightly for a minute longer. Bill fell to his knees in front of her, next to Annie, staring into her eyes, asking his wife what was the matter.

"The baby. I think it is coming," she whispered.

Of course. Annie should have recognized that look of anxiety in Fleur's eyes. They were a mirror of her own a mere six months ago. Annie hugged Fleur's shoulders, whispering words of reassurance, while Bill yelled for his mother.

Molly quickly deduced what was happening, and immediately began barking orders to her sons. Percy sprinted into the castle's hospital ward to alert Madam Pomfrey, while Charlie and Bill first helped, then ultimately carried Fleur into the castle. Molly trotted behind them, calling out encouragement.

"No shortage of drama here," mumbled Ginny with a roll of her eyes.

The long-winded funereal song had finally finished, and the excitement of Fleur being carried off had lightened the mood considerably.

"Enough of this weepin'! Let's have ourselves a proper wake!" someone shouted in a thick Irish accent. Annie recognized the voice - Seamus, wasn't it? - from the secret planning meeting held at her home a few weeks ago. Cheers went up as the younger members of the crowd heartily agreed.

A month ago, when word had gone out that the Ministry was planning a memorial service to be held at Hogwarts, George and his school chums responded by going into immediate action. Their fallen friends would never be satisfied by an "officially sanctioned" event, they reasoned, so why should they? And when it came to matters unofficial and non-sanctioned, there was really only one man left to turn to, and that man was George Weasley.

Annie recalled the meeting: a dozen or so of George's friends and siblings had gathered at Mole Hill to brainstorm. At first she feared that they would try to disrupt the official ceremony in some inappropriate way, and while she agreed with such a sentiment in principle, she was rather tired by now of being a target for official disapproval.

Seamus, whose voice Annie had just recognized, was the one who suggested a "proper" Irish wake (for no one combined political protest with mourning like the Irish, he argued), complete with live music, tables groaning with food and rivers of booze. It was surely the only reasonable send-off, everyone at the meeting had agreed.

They had all pitched in funds - though George and Harry had ponied up the lion's share, being by far the most solvent of the group - and Seamus contracted the band, who just happened to have been one of Fred's old favorites. Ron volunteered to work closely with the proprietress of a local pub in Hogsmeade, regarding the libations. Hermione had then glared daggers at him, for some reason unknown to Annie.

On George's signal (an enormous volley of fireworks, what else?), the band began to play a rousing rebellious tune, exhorting them all to resist authority. Annie had to admit this would have been Fred's idea of a cracking good time. Kegs were tapped and bottles were drained. Everyone sang and danced long into the evening.

News came down from the castle several hours into the party, just before the sun set, that Fleur had delivered a healthy baby girl, eliciting a loud cheer and multiple toasts from the revelers. Soon after, Arthur offered to take the twins home to the Hill so Annie and George could stay with his friends.

Annie sat with George within a small group of chairs, quite a distance away from the band, as his friends from school came and went all evening long. Many of them she met for the first time, and her husband introduced her as his wife to each and every one with pride. She giggled at the astonished faces that resulted each of the dozen times he retold the story of how they had met in the woods of his home when they were merely seven. How they had secretly exchanged letters via owl post right under the noses of all the professors of Hogwarts. By the end of the night, he was claiming to have fallen in love with the little muggle girl with a bowtruckle stuck in her hair up in that oak tree that very day.

What a load of crap, she laughed to herself. It took this fool a decade to figure it out.... Though I wasn't much cleverer, was I?

She learned so much from listening to their reminiscing; their stories of school, and the battle tales from the war. She discovered the name of the student resistance group during his last year in school had been "Dumbledore's Army" - George had never told her that before. She could see they all still considered themselves members.

A fellow named Neville fished out some sort of magical coin from his pocket to show her, having something to do with the DA. It was difficult to understand his explanation, or any of the rest of them for that matter, as the night was getting late, and they were each and every one of them tanked pretty well up by this point.

Annie and Hermione seemed to be the only sober ones in their now small group. Well, the dreamy girl named Luna might not have been drunk, but she had still seemed a bit flighty to Annie, so she couldn't be sure. Annie offered to track down the older Weasley brothers, hoping to find them in a better state to help move the partygoers back to their homes, if Hermione would keep an eye on the group currently assembled.

It was nearly midnight when Annie found Charlie and Percy seated on some steps leading to the castle. She was relieved, yet mostly unsurprised, to find them both sober and far removed from the festivities. She recruited them to help bust up the last straggling bit of the party, which primarily consisted of every Weasley younger than they, and their respective companions.

"Percy, would you mind taking me back home first, so I can get things ready for the rest of them? Your poor mum doesn't deserve an invasion of rowdy, stinking drunks."

"Excellent plan, Annie," he said with a prim nod. "Best to keep her in the dark about such misbehavior."

Poor Percy, thought Annie. He could not help but sound pompous, apparently. They rose to follow her back to the party.

"Charlie, can you take Angelina and Lee back to their house?" she asked.

He shook his head apologetically. "Er, I've never been to their place before, so..."

"Damn. Oh well; I guess it'll be the sofas for the lads and the guest room for the newlyweds."

They had reached what was left of the happy circle of drunks - according to a giggling Hermione, Luna had taken Neville off by herself. Perhaps Hermione was not quite as sober as Annie had first assumed....

"Right, let's do this before one of these useless sods passes out," Annie directed. "Hermione, will you keep an eye on Harry and Ron until Charlie and Percy come back for them on the second trip? Then you can take Ginny back to the Burrow, and try to keep out of Molly's sight. She won't be thrilled to discover her daughter in this state, to say the least."

"Whaddyamean?" Ginny asked, honestly curious. She apparently couldn't hear herself slurring the words together.

"You're drunk, Ginny love!" giggled Harry, patting her cheek clumsily as she smiled back at him. "Oops."

"Good luck with them, Hermione," Annie laughed. She tugged George up out of his seat, and was passing him off to his brother. "Okay, Charlie - have you got him?"

"Have you got me, Charlie?" echoed George, grinning broadly as his brother held his arm around his shoulders.

"Let's go," laughed Charlie.

Annie took Percy's arm. A moment later, Annie was far from the damp, foggy Scottish highlands and in her warm, dry home. She discovered Arthur was dozing on the sofa. She gently woke him and let him know he could leave, and probably should, due to the company she now had to prepare for.

"Oh, dear. I suppose I should have seen this coming. Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"You could clear the way for Hermione to bring Ginny back, if you know what I mean," she said, grimacing slightly. She was tossing blankets and pillows on the sofas as she spoke.

Arthur nodded. "Understood. I'm off," he chuckled as he disappeared.

"I'll take him from here, Charlie," she said softly. "Go get the lads now, and set them up on the sofas, please. Warn them from me - if either of them chuck in my house, I'll throttle them! And try to keep the noise down, if you can, for the babies' sake."

Annie took George by the waist and one arm to lead him, rather than support him. He was inebriated, for sure, but still managed the stairs just fine. She heard Charlie and Percy pop out of the house behind her. She had managed to wrangle George into their room and sit him down on the bed before she heard more pops, followed by scuffling downstairs that announced the arrival of her houseguests.

"Whassat?" George asked, puzzled by the noise outside the door.

"Your drunken brother, his drunken best friend, and your drunken mates the Jordans," she informed him. She pushed him down onto the bed and began to undress him, starting with his belt.

"Not tonight, Annie. 'Mm a bit drunk, love," he said in an inappropriately loud voice.

Annie heard Ron giggle downstairs. "Sssh! George, be a good boy and cooperate, will you?" she begged in a whisper, but smiling herself as she tugged off his trousers. Realizing too late it would have made more sense to start with them, she began to wrestle with his shoes.

"Give it a firm tug - that's a good girl!" he encouraged, still far too loudly.

More giggles erupted downstairs.

"You are such a pain in my ass!" she complained, laughing quietly. "Help me out, why don't you?"

George sat up and kicked off his shoes, then pants. Meanwhile, Annie went to their bathroom and collected a bottle of aspirin and a filled a large carafe with water. She returned to find George still sitting up as she left him, gazing at her with slightly unfocused eyes, a silly smile on his face.

"Oh, honey! You're gonna to have a full head tomorrow. Take these, and drink as much of this water as you can stand. Think you might be sick?" she asked sympathetically as she stroked his hair.

George shook his head as he swallowed the aspirin.

"All right, then - lie down and sleep it off, I suppose. I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay, Annie," he said pleasantly, and obeyed her without further comment.

She walked down the stairs.

Charlie was still there, looking up at her. "Lee and Angelina seem to know their way around the place, and they're in the back of the house somewhere. Ron emptied his tank before we left Hogwarts. I think Harry's not nearly so bad off - he should be fine," he whispered.

"Thanks, Charlie. Can I get you anything before you go?"

"Nah. See you later," he said as he walked out the door, headed to the Burrow.

Annie walked the rounds, checking on all her guests, dispensing water and aspirin and wastebins to everyone. Fifteen minutes later, she crawled exhaustedly into her own bed, cringing as she imagined what tomorrow morning would be like with a house full of raging hangovers and six-month-old twins.

George rolled over and pulled her closer.

"Not tonight dear - you're a bit drunk," she teased.

"Maybe just a kiss and a cuddle, then," he murmured, giving her a few soft kisses on her neck and earlobe.

"Go to sleep, George," she urged gently and somewhat reluctantly.

He sighed and flopped his head back onto his pillow, but didn't let go of her. Which was just fine by Annie.