Transition (standard:fantasy, 3053 words)
Author: Gryfinndor_Girl	Added: Jun 25 2002	Views/Reads: 3207/2117	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Spin-off from the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix fanfic. Harry faces the funeral of his only surviving relatives, and comes to a turning point in his life.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Harry gave a nervous look over to Catalina, who was sitting opposite him
working on an essay, before turning to Hermione and Ron. 

‘It's the Dursleys funeral at the weekend' muttered Harry quietly,
trying to shut Catalina out of the conversation. 

‘Oh Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't think' said Hermione, louder than Harry
wanted, and he noticed Catalina looking at him out of the corner of his 
eye. 

‘Yeah, well...' said Harry, unable to think of anything to say. 

‘Are you going?' asked Ron, slightly frowning. 

‘I wasn't going to, but I decided I have to really' said Harry heavily. 

Ron nodded, and gave an unsure look to Hermione. Harry was still aware
of Catalina's curious gaze, and he turned to look at her. She quickly 
averted his gaze, and started to work on her parchment, face flushing 
slightly. Harry lost himself in dark thoughts of Voldemort and the 
death of his last surviving relatives. The sun had almost set, and 
glittering stars littered the dark sky, and Harry decided to go to bed, 
to think about the subject in peace. 

He hated the Dursleys, there was no question about it, and thoughts of
his life with them crowded his head as he climbed into his warm bed. 
They had made his life a misery for 11 years, and hadn't been much 
better the past 4. Finally he fell asleep, and his disturbing thoughts 
stalked him in his dreams. 

* 

‘Er, Ron will you come with me?' asked Harry, shuffling through his
trunk looking for his money pouch. 

‘Sure, where we going?' asked Ron, sitting on the end of Harry's bed,
knees drawn up tight to himself. 

‘Professor Figg is taking me to get a black suit from Hogsmeade' said
Harry smiling grimly. ‘What's a suit?' asked Ron slowly. 

‘It's like what the Minister of Magic wears, you know the pinstripe
muggle clothes. I need one for the...funeral' said Harry distractedly. 

‘Oh, sure. No problems mate. Are you sure you don't want me to come, mum
wouldn't mind' said Ron, blushing at his ignorance to muggle clothing. 

‘No,' said Harry abruptly, ‘it's ok'. 

Ron nodded slowly, and followed Harry out of the dormitory, meeting
Hermione and the bottom of the stairs. She gave Harry a small smile, as 
he and Ron walked out of the portrait hole in silence and made their 
way to the entrance hall where they were to meet Professor Figg. 
Professor Figg gave Harry a small consoling smile, and walked them out 
of the school to Hogwarts. The trip was made in relative silence, and 
ominous black clouds rolled out to greet the three, who dashed into 
Gladrag's just before they opened up. 

Harry stood awkwardly in the shop's doorway as Professor Figg went and
explained to the shop clerk in hushed voices what they needed. 

‘Come on then laddy, stand here' said the old woman, whose nametag
pronounced her to be Penny. 

Harry stood on the podium self-consciously, and was glad when Ron went
and examined the dress robes, and was shortly joined by Professor Figg. 
A silver tape measure flitted aimlessly over Harry, taking bizarre 
measurements, while the old woman kept up a running commentary. 

‘We don't sell many suits, usually robes here...When's the funeral...I'm
very sorry for your loss...would you like anything else...Try this on 
in the changing rooms for me will you?' 

Harry didn't have time to answer any of the questions between the woman
ramblings, and gladly hid in the cramped changing rooms, trying on the 
black suit. He smoothed down the finished product, and stepped out of 
the changing rooms, into a full-length mirror. 

He would hardly have recognised the pale faced, smartly dressed person
staring back at him. Harry had lived his life in ill-fitting, hand me 
down or loose robes and the sight of a well-cut suit startled him. Ron 
stood back, admiring the muggle clothing, and Professor Figg smiled 
down at him motherly. 

‘We'll take it. Harry take it off and pay the lady' ordered Professor
Figg kindly. 

Harry shrugged off the suit and paid for it, with what a few gold coins
from his pouch. 10 minutes later, they were hurrying down the rain 
soaked streets of Hogsmead on their way back to Hogwarts. 

* 

Harry woke up early on the overcast Saturday morning, and got dressed
silently, trying not to wake up his fellow Gryffindor's and made his 
way down to the common room. He was leaving at 9 ‘o' clock for the 
train from Hogsmeade station to Kings Cross, where Mrs Weasley would be 
picking him up and taking him straight to the church in Surrey. 

Soon the common room was filling up with students, and Ron, Hermione and
Catalina soon joined him on the couch. The air was heavy and the 
silence was oppressive. Catalina kept shooting him worried glances, and 
Hermione was chewing her lip unconsciously. 

‘Harry, you better get ready to go' Ron said finally, to a motionless
Harry. 

All three of them turned to him, and after a few seconds he pulled
himself to his feet and traipsed slowly to his room. 

Harry pulled on his suit slowly, staring with disbelief at his
reflection again. He couldn't get used to the pale, smartly dressed 
person in front of himself. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to his 
hair, trying to make it lie flat to his head – like Uncle Vernon had 
always told him to. Harry stopped his hand suddenly. He didn't have to 
make his hair lie flat, Uncle Vernon wasn't there, he wouldn't care, 
and he couldn't make him do anything any more. Anyway, Harry reasoned 
as he purposely messed it up a little more, Uncle Vernon liked having 
something to complain about. 

Harry picked up his tie, and wrapped it round his neck in the unthinking
motions of an action repeated a million times, smiling grimly to 
himself. Lightning forked across the sky, and thunder followed a few 
seconds later accompanied by fat raindrops lashing the windows. 

Eventually he was ready, and he checked his watch before making his way
down the stairs to the common room. The weather had confined what 
seemed like the whole of the Gryffindor population to the tower, and 
the noise of the conversation dropped several notches as he stepped 
into the room. Harry lowered his gaze as he made his way over to his 
seat and the common room eyes Harry in the finely cut suit. 

‘What is that?' 

‘It's a suit, wonder where he's going?' 

‘He's going to a funeral obviously' 

‘I wonder whose...' 

Curious whispers echoed the room, and gradually conversation returned to
the normal level, as Harry stopped by his friends. Ron, Hermione and 
Catalina stood up to great him, shifting uncomfortably. Harry rammed 
his hands in his pockets, secretly wishing he didn't have to put on his 
suit until he got to Kinds Road, but there wouldn't be time. 

‘Oh Harry. You look very smart' said Hermione before pulling him into a
brotherly hug. 

‘Yeah mate, you look even skinnier and taller dressed in that. You'll be
catching up with me soon' said Ron with a half-hearted laugh, skirting 
the subject with humour. 

‘I'll see you guys tomorrow' said Harry heavily turning to go, and
making his way to the Fat Lady. 

‘Harry?' asked a tentative voice, as he reached the portrait hole. 

Harry turned round, and saw Catalina, standing self-consciously in front
of him. 

‘I'm sorry about your family' she said, pulling him into a hug like
Hermione had. 

Harry was so surprised, he barley had time to react before Catalina was
gone, and he rushed out the hole as more whispers followed him. 

* 

Wild country flashed passed the train's window as Harry looked out in
the turbulent sky. Black clouds stretched as far as he could see, and 
lightning forked across the sky every couple of minutes. The train 
journey was phenomenally longer than usual, and his loneliness gave him 
time to sort out his thoughts. 

He still wasn't sure how he was supposed to be feeling. Was he supposed
to be upset, or happy? Conflicting emotions filled his head, and 
memories replayed over and over until he reached bustling urban 
landscape. 

Within a few minutes, the train was slowing down, and Harry got up to
go. When the train stopped he stepped onto the station to be met be a 
strange sight. It was Mrs Weasley dressed in a black muggle dress. He 
racked his brains to think if he'd ever seen Mrs Weasley out of robes, 
and he couldn't think of one single time. He walked self-consciously 
towards her, and she swept him into a motherly hug. 

‘Oh Harry, I'm very sorry you have to go through this. You look lovely'
she said holding him out at arms length to survey him with oddly bright 
eyes. 

Harry nodded mutely, and Mrs Weasley led him out of the train station to
a green ministry car. He climbed in and spent the entire journey in 
silence, watching the bustling muggle streets, and people scurried 
about their lives, totally oblivious to the danger all around them. 

The car pulled up to the church, and Harry climbed out, closely followed
by Mrs Weasley. He stood outside the tall iron wrought gates, checked 
his attire, and walked through. 

He was walked to the church doors, and was greeted by a solemn looking
vicar, who shook his hand, and consoled Harry on his loss. Harry nodded 
to him, and was followed into the crowded chapel by Mrs Weasley, both 
clutching prayer sheets. 

Slow, mournful music was being played on the organ, and Harry seated
himself at the back of the room on an empty pew. Mrs Weasley sat next 
to him, and placed a comforting hand on his when the funeral march 
began. 

Harry turned and watched in a daze when three coffins where wheeled down
the isle, and muffled sobs could be heard coming from the small 
congregation. Harry watched as the coffins were wheeled to the front, 
and absurd thoughts starting running through his head. The squeaking 
wheel of one trolley was making laughter well up inside him, and the 
sight of Dudley slightly larger coffin made a smile tug at his lips. 

Mrs Weasley shot a worried look at Harry, who was smirking to himself,
and she wondered if he fully comprehended what was happening. She 
couldn't stand the Dursleys who had treated Harry so badly his whole 
life, but couldn't be failed to move by the sight of a whole family 
laid out in front of her. 

‘We are gathered here today, to mourn the passing of Vernon, Petunia and
Dudley Dursley. A much beloved family, torn apart by a tragic accident' 
started the ancient vicar, in a raspy voice. 

Harry looked around the congregation as the vicar droned on, and tried
to recognise some of the people. He had always hidden when most people 
came to house to visit, or dismissed as a visiting relative. He could 
see people from his Uncle's drill firm Grunnings, neighbours from 
Privet Drive and the surrounding area, and a few friends of Dudley's 
from Harry's old school. It was a pathetic turnout, and Harry smiled to 
himself again. The Dursleys obviously never had that many friends. 

Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon sister delivered a short eulogy in a choked
voice, and soon the service was over. Harry followed the crowd out to 
the graveyard, and stood isolated on the edge as the Vicar began 
another sermon. 

‘In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through
our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God Vernon, Petunia and 
Dudley Dursley; and we commit there body to the ground; earth to earth; 
ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless them and keep them, the 
Lord make his face to shine upon them and be gracious unto them and 
give them peace. Amen.' 

Rain thundered down on the small congregation, and the sobs of some of
the mourners could not be heard above the sound of rain on polished 
wood. 

Gently the three coffins were lowered into the three graves, and Harry
felt his throat tighten as they disappeared from sight, and settled on 
the muddy ground beneath. There was a dull thud of mud onto the lid of 
each of the coffins, and mourners began to throw flowers into the 
graves. 

His hair was plastered to his face by the rain, and his suit was soaked
through. The water trickled down his face, and went down the stiff 
collar of his shirt. Tears mingled with rainwater, and Harry was 
furious with himself for showing such emotion for the people who cared 
nothing for. 

Slowly the congregation moved away, to go the wake being held at a
neighbour's house, and Harry and Mrs Weasley were left at the grave 
edges. Mrs Weasley moved away to the shelter of the church, and talked 
quietly to the vicar, as Harry remained. 

Salty tears landed on his lips, and he looked into the sky watching the
fat raindrops falling towards him out of the dark, oppressive clouds. 
He balled his fists as he looked down at the three graves in anger. 
Even after they were gone they managed to make him feel so bad, and the 
unfairness of his life took a hold of him. 

‘Why am I crying for you? Why? You did nothing for me! You beat me,
teased me, put me down, treated me like dirt, and still I cry for you!' 
Harry spat, angry with himself more than anything, for letting them get 
to him even now. 

‘All I ever wanted was somebody to love me, to like me for who I was!
You never accepted me, never treated me like a human! Even as a child. 
Do you realise how lonely I was, how much I wanted be loved, how much I 
wanted a mom and dad to look after me like the other kids? And what did 
I get? You. You made my life a misery!' shouted Harry angrily at the 
silent coffins. 

‘Well not anymore!' Harry shouted to the silent graveyard, ‘You will
never get the satisfaction of seeing me morn for you. This is it! I'm 
sick of you, and everything you stand for!' shouted Harry, as he kicked 
the piles of dirt lining the graveside in. 

With one last look back and the final resting-place of his only
surviving relatives, Harry felt the end of something and the beginning 
of something new. He had nowhere to live, no family, but between the 
choice of the Dursleys and the streets he'd pick the streets any day. 

He met Mrs Weasley and gave her an uncertain smile. 

‘Ready Harry?' she asked, holding out her hand to him. 

Harry looked into the face of Mrs Weasley, kind and caring, and it
strengthened his resolve. Voldemort had taken away the only chance of 
ever having a family like Ron or Hermione once already. And now he'd 
tried again. Harry felt a bubble of laughter at what Voldemort would 
think if he knew he'd failed, that he hadn't taken his family away from 
him, only brought him closer to them. Mrs Weasley still had her hand 
outstretched, waiting for him to reply. 

‘Yeah I'm ready' he said, smiling through the rain and taking her hand. 


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