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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 384: The Last Ballad
🕑 Added 2024-12-01 14:03:16 +0000 UTCChapter 384: The Last Ballad
25 April 1995, Olympus Academy, Greece
The conversation with Alexandros Marinakis had left a lot of things on Harry’s mind. There was a lot that he missed in this conversation, he knew that for a fact, and he kept replaying the conversation in his mind again and again, trying to uncover something more to it. If the man was telling the truth, then he had a shard of one of the Olympians whose realm was destroyed before or during Hera’s coup. It was obvious that he would be looking for revenge, but there were a lot of connotations to something like this. Why did he retain a fragment of the former ego of the realm’s owner, and not anyone else before him? Was it purely by chance or was there something more to it?
It was a mystery that Harry was prompted to solve, but he had to admit that it wasn’t the biggest problem on his plate. Sure, the man had personally caused the death of dozens of students, and that’s not to mention the number of ICW security personnel who also perished from the avalanches and debris. They were pretty leery at releasing an official number, but as Harry stood in the burning sun, as the funeral of the students who had fallen had taken place, he couldn’t help but count how many graves there were.
From the looks of it, around half of the Champions had died. Hogwarts had the least, with only a single death in Diggory, there were the four Greeks that had come with Perseus. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons lost two each, where the only one Harry recognized by name was Victor Krum, which, alone was going to have a ton of effects when it’s officially released to the public. The death of Bulgaria’s Quidditch star was bound to cause an outrage, maybe even internationally. Harry had no idea why someone of his fame and fortune would ever volunteer to be a Champion of Durmstrang. Maybe he thought that the safety measures would be enough, but there had to be some chance of getting hurt and ending his career prematurely.
Most of the other schools had lost two as well, at least considering the number of graves he could count. All of the survivors were people who had been injured somewhere around the mountain and had given up, returning to be healed. There was a twisted sort of irony, where the brave had died, and the faint of heart lived. In a way, it was a cruel show of realism, of the fate of heroism that their society treasured so much.
There weren’t even bodies buried. There weren’t any found in the rubble. Grindelwald’s last spell had probably vaporized them if there were anything left of them, and even if there were any remains, the mountain was huge and still had enough foreign magic to mess with most detection spells. Even then, it would have been more fitting for funerals to take place in their home countries, with their friends and family, not with so much press around.
This was more like a symbolic gesture, or more likely, a publicity stunt from the ICW and Greek Ministry of Magic. Arcturus had obviously used this opportunity to release news of Harry’s survival in the middle of the general public reacting to the fiasco. It was a smart thing, to let the news be overwhelmed by the international incident and its repercussions, than a young boy having recovered from being sick. And yet, the way the ICW was handling things sickened him in a way he didn’t expect.
There was no sign of respect for the dead and their families, just damage control. Harry ignored the droning of the ICW’s representative and stared at Cedric Diggory’s grave. Amos Diggory and his wife were staring blankly at it again, looking more lost than anything. It was the sheer loss and pain he could feel with his Arcane Hearing that made Harry feel this much shittier. He could have saved Diggory. He could have done it rather easily, but he had chosen not to, and now he was seeing the ramifications of that choice naked in front of him.
He thought he understood grief, but this paled in front of what Cedric’s mother was feeling. It was indescribable, a mixture of loss, pain and sorrow. She was in denial and yet she knew she was wrong but hoped nonetheless that this was nothing more than a dream. Even that was barely more than scratching the surface. Harry didn’t think she would be able to survive this. He didn’t think he would if something like this ever happened to him.
It was a sunny day. If it wasn’t for the grave, it would have been a beautiful day to go on a swim, which made things weirdly darker than he expected. Harry never really attended a funeral. He always imagined that the very world itself would be mourning with him, that it would be pouring rain. He wasn’t even sure who he was mourning, really. He barely knew any of them. Even Diggory was someone he barely spoke to, even if he felt some responsibility towards his fate.
He knelt in front of the boy’s empty grave and left a small white flower on it, before turning away and leaving under privacy charms. The entire event bothered him greatly. He kept walking and walking, up until he reached the beach. He didn’t know what was pushing him there, but it felt far better than enduring the fakeness of the funeral before him.
He just stood there, watching the sea go back and forth in complete silence. He felt Daphne come and sit next to him, “You’re lucky you’re not important enough to be missed.”
“Yes, Eddie Carmichael isn’t important, is he?” he answered with a forced grin, “I think the idiots in the ICW have more important things to do, like praising themselves for wiping their own task.”
“I’ll admit that this event is entirely in poor taste, especially the announcement that the final task of the tournament is still going to take place.”
“You’re surprised?” Harry chortled, “Dumbledore wants the tournament to continue. Do you think a handful of dead children will get him to stop?”
“No, but I didn’t think they’d say that at the funeral, though.”
“I didn’t know any of them, but I don’t think it’s fair for them or their families. They died as a mixture of both Dumbledore and Marinakis’ choices, and it doesn’t really seem like either of them really care, do they?”
Harry couldn’t help but snort at that, “They don’t care because they got what they wanted. What are a few lives in the face of a higher purpose? If there’s something I learned from my interactions with Dumbledore, it would be that the strong and righteous rarely care about the consequences of their actions. What a kind world that would have been. I don’t even know why I’m so outraged. The world is still the same today as it was the day before. I don’t even know how I feel. I just felt like I couldn’t stay there and endure the fakeness of it all, not anymore.”
The blonde looked exasperated for some reason, “You know, as much as you baffle me when it comes to your understanding of magic, you’re remarkably thick when it comes to your own emotions. It’s not about them or Diggory. You were mourning your mother, Harry. You pictured her own funeral amongst them.”
Harry froze at that. Now that he thought about it, Daphne had a point. The thought of mourning Lily didn’t even cross his mind because he never expected to ever miss her. He thought that her last actions redeemed her, at least in his eyes, but other than that, he wasn’t exactly close to the woman. The pain she had caused him was a bit too fresh. Time and time again, she had betrayed him and hurt him, and now she got to have him mourn her because she had come to the last moment and sacrificed herself for him.
No, she had done more than that. She sacrificed everything, her life’s work, her afterlife, for him. He’d never had someone do something like this before. He didn’t expect to feel so bad about it.
A lone tear fell from Harry’s eye, one that Daphne softly swiped away. He didn’t even remember the last time he ever cried. She gave him a soft smile, “Why don’t we have a small funeral here, just the two of us? We’re probably the people who knew her the most.”
With a wave of her wand, a small piece of stone slowly popped up from the ground, shaping itself into a gravestone. Another flick of her wand made a tiny Lily flower appear beside it, its petals softly glowing in the fading light. Harry watched as Daphne carefully placed the flower, a simple gesture that connected his hidden grief with the reality he’d been avoiding.
“She was the worst, wasn’t she,” Harry mused aloud. “The absolute worst. She was bloody insane and did some things that I still have no idea how to rationalize. She left me to die, alone, and yet she sacrificed herself for me. Even then, she couldn’t even die without making things more confusing. Even now, I feel like I never really knew her, that I barely scratched the surface. I suppose now, I’ll never know for sure.”
Daphne stayed quiet, letting him get all his frustrations out. Finally, she spoke up, “Lily helped me learn blood magic, and I still can’t understand why she did that, why she taught her own magic to a complete stranger. I know she did it to influence you at first, but even when she thought you were dead, when we all thought you were dead, she kept at it without any reward. She was a complicated person, and while I don't think I can come even close to understanding her, I can say for sure that she mourned you, just like you’re mourning her. She even gave me this.”
Daphne showed him a small silver bracelet with delicate designs of does and stags. At first glance, it looked like regular jewellery, but there was a clear magical aura around it. It felt warm in a way Harry hadn’t ever associated with Lily Evans.
Harry took a closer look at the bracelet. He didn’t expect Lily to care enough about James Potter to use his Animagus form for something so personal, something that held so much emotion. It was strange, considering Lily was long dead, and Harry had no plans to use the resurrection stone for something like this.
Still, he took the bracelet in his hand, feeling the faint trace of Lily’s magic. It was probably the only thing he had left of her. With a quick flick of his wrist, he used a small Alchemy spell to dig a tiny hole right in front of the gravestone. He gently placed the bracelet into the hole, watching as the ground quickly covered it back up. A single tear landed on the spot where the hole had been, and Harry felt the bracelet’s warmth spread through the area.
Daphne waved her wand, and a single Lily flower sprouted from the ground, followed by another, and then another, until a small bunch of lilies bloomed around the gravestone. Harry was about to ask Daphne why she kept growing lilies when he realized that only the first flower was from her magic. The others grew from a mix of his own magic, the tear he’d shed, his quick Alchemy spell, and the warmth from the bracelet. It was like Lily herself was saying goodbye, a beautiful bit of magic that captured their complicated relationship.
He knelt down again, placing his hand on the gravestone. “Goodbye, Mum,” he whispered, the words feeling both strange and necessary.
As the last bits of daylight faded, Harry stood up, feeling a rare sense of relief. He took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling his lungs and bringing a clarity he hadn’t expected. “I guess I needed to do that,” he admitted, his voice shaking a little.
Daphne nodded, her expression softening. “I know. Now let’s go home.”
The idea of going back to Hogwarts after nearly a year away was bittersweet. Harry hadn’t realized how much he would miss the castle, despite all the constant crises that seemed to follow him. Every year brought one disaster after another, and this latest one was no different. But it wasn’t the castle’s fault—it was him. Trouble had always stuck to him like a shadow, impossible to shake off.
And so, they slowly walked back in silence to the Hogwarts Express. They were returning to the castle soon. The final task was coming closer, and he dreaded what Dumbledore and Grindelwald were planning for it. They had obviously given up on subtlety given what they had done to Mount Olympus. That's not to mention the whole mess with Ragnarök. Something was coming, he could feel it in his gut. He only hoped that he would be able to weather the storm. Time will tell. It always does.
AN: I’ll be honest, this chapter is a bit of a filler. I’m not particularly proud of it, but I wrote it while I was still under the weather, and doing my best to deal with a backlog of work since I missed a few days since I was really sick. Anyway, I might rewrite it, but I might not, it will depend on your feedback, so, as usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions. We're finally going back to Britain officially, and I'm pretty excited about that.
Comments
Garri Sarkisov
Wonderful closure
Afterdark230
lol I like the way you think
Based_Bass
I think somebody said in the previous chapter, you’re too hard on yourself. I think this was a great send off. Harry literally wouldn’t be able to compute his emotions without Daphne. I think him calling her “Mum” was really sweet. Even though she was an awful bitch. I really wonder how that convo would go with their kids. “Hey dad can you tell us about Grandma?” And Harry’s just like…well shit. You’re gonna have to sit down for this. “Your Grandpa? Never got to know him. Your Grandmother…she was a fucking trip.”
Afterdark230
I think it was a fitting final send off. Harry was never good with his emotions so this closure was needed. Plus any excuse for some Harry/Daphne time is good as well.
Monzter E
Damn! Nice chapter as always... felt something there
