Salt and Pepper Fest: Eulogy
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hp_goldenageTitle: Eulogy
Author:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
lightofdaye
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley, background canon pairings
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,499
Content/Warning(s): Major Character Death
Summary/Prompt: Ron writes an article for the Daily Prophet in remembrance.
A/N: Many thanks to the mods for running this and to T for doing such a good job beta-reading it. All remaining mistakes are my own. (Or Ron's!)
Read on AO3 or below:
HARRY POTTER REMEMBERED by Ron Weasley
Writing today, I am in the rare position of being able to pull rank on my wife. Normally, I would take a lot of pleasure in this but, in this situation, it is more of a sad duty. I am more known by my connections to other people than I am for myself. I run a successful business started by two of my brothers, I am the husband of the best Minister for Magic the country has had in at least living memory and I was Harry Potter's partner as an Auror, brother-in-law and best friend.
Of those three, it is the last one I take the most pride in. I was one of Harry Potter's best friends; in fact, I can say more likely than not that I was his first friend. When I write of pulling rank on my wife, it is only because I have nearly a full two month's seniority over Hermione Granger-Weasley in the position of Harry's friend. I am sure she would do much better job of writing this memorial letter but I decided it was too much to ask of her while we agreed this should be written from the point of view of a friend.
From a very early age, the events of Harry Potter's life overshadowed him as a person. He was 'the boy who lived' to all who met him and not Harry at all. I must admit that among the first questions I asked him were related to those events.
We met on our first day at Hogwarts, on the Express train, and quickly formed a friendship that would last a lifetime. Though, as we said to our children, you shouldn’t all expect to be so lucky as to find your best friend for life on your very first day at school.
Harry’s early life was not an easy one, of his childhood I shall say very little, as he himself did partly because so much will be written by others and partly because they were Muggles. They were awful to him and they were Muggles but those are two entirely separate points as I shouldn’t need to say.
I flatter myself that my and Hermione’s friendship with Harry eased at least some of those difficulties, though even then, before the return of Voldemort, we faced our fair share of dangers. Without betraying confidences, we encountered dragons, three-headed dogs, Acromantula, Dementors and murderers. Though I reassure prospective parents, as well as disappointing my children, nephews and nieces, that this was not typical of Hogwarts education.
Of course, Voldemort did in fact return, though it was not widely acknowledged at first and he rose and fell from power again all before Harry and I should have finished our education.
Other quills will tell you all you want to know about those years, and the over half century since then. The facts, of course, and all the ribald speculation and innuendo you could shake a broomstick at. People of my generation will remember Rita Skeeter and there are no shortage of current journalists of her ilk to appease those desires. They can, if you wish, tell you all about the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One and the legendary Head Auror with great gusto and occasional accuracy but they can’t tell you about the Harry Potter I remember.
Harry Potter was indeed the Chosen One of prophecy but that doesn’t get you as far as you think. It’s not what I’ll remember, even though it overshadows his life for everyone who didn’t know him.
I’ll remember the endless games of chess he lost, I’ll remember making up the answers to Divination homework together, when we babysat each other’s kids so the other could have the night off. The times when he stopped over the shop to use me as a sounding board for difficult cases over a curry. Come to think of it, that last one is probably against Ministry policy, but what are they going to do to us now?
I’ll remember our fourth year at Hogwarts, waking up in the school’s lake at the end of the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament with Harry and a girl who was, at the time, a complete stranger. Why? Because Harry had just rescued her from the bottom of the lake despite being a competitor’s objective, simply because they hadn’t shown up to rescue her.
We teased him at the time, for rescuing someone who didn’t need it. That was Harry through and through: always looking out for people and trying to help people. If you remember anything about Harry, remember his capacity for love, kindness and forgiveness.
Harry was just nice to people as a default. He wasn’t perfect, of course, but that was his usual reaction to others. If you showed him a reason not to like you, he wouldn’t hesitate to take it but even then he would show mercy. There was a person, and they know who they are so I shan’t tell names, whose life he saved during a battle―twice― despite their being on the other side... though doing a very bad job of it.
And he could forgive in a way that always mystified me. The family in his early life I wrote about before? He ended up on good terms with his cousin from that branch of his family, in a Christmas card and occasional meet up sort of way at least. He could hate someone with a fiery passion for seven years, but still pity and forgive them and set the record straight about them when more information came to light.
Biographies will tell you that early hardships are what made Harry Potter who he was but, as someone who knew him, that would be doing him a disservice. I can’t imagine a Harry who wasn’t that nice because they had been raised by better people.
But I’m losing my place again.
Whenever a loved one dies, there are phrases people always say to you. They mean well at least, or so my wife always reminds me, so you have to nod solemnly and be polite about it.
One thing that is sometimes said is ‘he’s in a better place now’ and seeing as how our adventures did give our perspective on death, that could well be true. It’s not much of a comfort. Wherever he is, it’s not here, able to give his friendship, support and love and to receive it in kind. We hope we will see them again some day but we can’t know it.
Another thing that is said is ‘he died the way he lived’ or even ‘he died doing what he loved’ and given the circumstances this is not helpful either, though it is at least accurate. Harry Potter died as he lived: saving people. Insensitive people and those journalists that I referred to before have said that this final action did not live up to his reputation. He did not, after all, die defeating some kind of revived dark lord. This, of course, is hogwash. My friend died in the process of saving the lives of a young wizard and his Muggle brother and sister. I have no doubt whatsoever that he considered that a worthwhile trade.
A final thing that people say, and they mean this kindly, is, “we shall never see his like again” and the only answer to that, that I can muster is, ‘Merlin, I hope not’. My friend was a great man but Harry was not flawless nor someone to treat as mythic figure on a pedestal. His great strengths: kindness and humility, forgiveness and bravery, are ones that everyone who knew him can and will copy to the best of their abilities.
To say we shall never see his like again does a disservice to his family, friends, co-workers and students, all of whom will live on and are his legacy.
~0~
Ron set down his quill and bleary-eyed looked up: the writing desk and the office around it were strewn with paper and parchment, evidence of his various false starts. There was a clock gently tinkling a tune on the wall and he looked at it. It was past midnight.
He ran his hands through his thin white hair and sighed. Hermione would be worried about him. He looked at the article again. It was not well written but he thought it at least said what he wanted it to say.
He pondered taking another crack at it, because the effort of writing at least dulled the pain a bit but he remembered his wife waiting for him and rolled his effort up into a scroll. He went to the scops owl, FluffyMcFluffyBeak (named by his grandchildren), and attached the scroll to her leg, addressed to the Daily Prophet.
He wondered how Harry was doing off on his next great adventure, and then Ron Weasley went home to comfort his wife.
Author:
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley, background canon pairings
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,499
Content/Warning(s): Major Character Death
Summary/Prompt: Ron writes an article for the Daily Prophet in remembrance.
A/N: Many thanks to the mods for running this and to T for doing such a good job beta-reading it. All remaining mistakes are my own. (Or Ron's!)
Read on AO3 or below:
HARRY POTTER REMEMBERED by Ron Weasley
Writing today, I am in the rare position of being able to pull rank on my wife. Normally, I would take a lot of pleasure in this but, in this situation, it is more of a sad duty. I am more known by my connections to other people than I am for myself. I run a successful business started by two of my brothers, I am the husband of the best Minister for Magic the country has had in at least living memory and I was Harry Potter's partner as an Auror, brother-in-law and best friend.
Of those three, it is the last one I take the most pride in. I was one of Harry Potter's best friends; in fact, I can say more likely than not that I was his first friend. When I write of pulling rank on my wife, it is only because I have nearly a full two month's seniority over Hermione Granger-Weasley in the position of Harry's friend. I am sure she would do much better job of writing this memorial letter but I decided it was too much to ask of her while we agreed this should be written from the point of view of a friend.
From a very early age, the events of Harry Potter's life overshadowed him as a person. He was 'the boy who lived' to all who met him and not Harry at all. I must admit that among the first questions I asked him were related to those events.
We met on our first day at Hogwarts, on the Express train, and quickly formed a friendship that would last a lifetime. Though, as we said to our children, you shouldn’t all expect to be so lucky as to find your best friend for life on your very first day at school.
Harry’s early life was not an easy one, of his childhood I shall say very little, as he himself did partly because so much will be written by others and partly because they were Muggles. They were awful to him and they were Muggles but those are two entirely separate points as I shouldn’t need to say.
I flatter myself that my and Hermione’s friendship with Harry eased at least some of those difficulties, though even then, before the return of Voldemort, we faced our fair share of dangers. Without betraying confidences, we encountered dragons, three-headed dogs, Acromantula, Dementors and murderers. Though I reassure prospective parents, as well as disappointing my children, nephews and nieces, that this was not typical of Hogwarts education.
Of course, Voldemort did in fact return, though it was not widely acknowledged at first and he rose and fell from power again all before Harry and I should have finished our education.
Other quills will tell you all you want to know about those years, and the over half century since then. The facts, of course, and all the ribald speculation and innuendo you could shake a broomstick at. People of my generation will remember Rita Skeeter and there are no shortage of current journalists of her ilk to appease those desires. They can, if you wish, tell you all about the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One and the legendary Head Auror with great gusto and occasional accuracy but they can’t tell you about the Harry Potter I remember.
Harry Potter was indeed the Chosen One of prophecy but that doesn’t get you as far as you think. It’s not what I’ll remember, even though it overshadows his life for everyone who didn’t know him.
I’ll remember the endless games of chess he lost, I’ll remember making up the answers to Divination homework together, when we babysat each other’s kids so the other could have the night off. The times when he stopped over the shop to use me as a sounding board for difficult cases over a curry. Come to think of it, that last one is probably against Ministry policy, but what are they going to do to us now?
I’ll remember our fourth year at Hogwarts, waking up in the school’s lake at the end of the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament with Harry and a girl who was, at the time, a complete stranger. Why? Because Harry had just rescued her from the bottom of the lake despite being a competitor’s objective, simply because they hadn’t shown up to rescue her.
We teased him at the time, for rescuing someone who didn’t need it. That was Harry through and through: always looking out for people and trying to help people. If you remember anything about Harry, remember his capacity for love, kindness and forgiveness.
Harry was just nice to people as a default. He wasn’t perfect, of course, but that was his usual reaction to others. If you showed him a reason not to like you, he wouldn’t hesitate to take it but even then he would show mercy. There was a person, and they know who they are so I shan’t tell names, whose life he saved during a battle―twice― despite their being on the other side... though doing a very bad job of it.
And he could forgive in a way that always mystified me. The family in his early life I wrote about before? He ended up on good terms with his cousin from that branch of his family, in a Christmas card and occasional meet up sort of way at least. He could hate someone with a fiery passion for seven years, but still pity and forgive them and set the record straight about them when more information came to light.
Biographies will tell you that early hardships are what made Harry Potter who he was but, as someone who knew him, that would be doing him a disservice. I can’t imagine a Harry who wasn’t that nice because they had been raised by better people.
But I’m losing my place again.
Whenever a loved one dies, there are phrases people always say to you. They mean well at least, or so my wife always reminds me, so you have to nod solemnly and be polite about it.
One thing that is sometimes said is ‘he’s in a better place now’ and seeing as how our adventures did give our perspective on death, that could well be true. It’s not much of a comfort. Wherever he is, it’s not here, able to give his friendship, support and love and to receive it in kind. We hope we will see them again some day but we can’t know it.
Another thing that is said is ‘he died the way he lived’ or even ‘he died doing what he loved’ and given the circumstances this is not helpful either, though it is at least accurate. Harry Potter died as he lived: saving people. Insensitive people and those journalists that I referred to before have said that this final action did not live up to his reputation. He did not, after all, die defeating some kind of revived dark lord. This, of course, is hogwash. My friend died in the process of saving the lives of a young wizard and his Muggle brother and sister. I have no doubt whatsoever that he considered that a worthwhile trade.
A final thing that people say, and they mean this kindly, is, “we shall never see his like again” and the only answer to that, that I can muster is, ‘Merlin, I hope not’. My friend was a great man but Harry was not flawless nor someone to treat as mythic figure on a pedestal. His great strengths: kindness and humility, forgiveness and bravery, are ones that everyone who knew him can and will copy to the best of their abilities.
To say we shall never see his like again does a disservice to his family, friends, co-workers and students, all of whom will live on and are his legacy.
~0~
Ron set down his quill and bleary-eyed looked up: the writing desk and the office around it were strewn with paper and parchment, evidence of his various false starts. There was a clock gently tinkling a tune on the wall and he looked at it. It was past midnight.
He ran his hands through his thin white hair and sighed. Hermione would be worried about him. He looked at the article again. It was not well written but he thought it at least said what he wanted it to say.
He pondered taking another crack at it, because the effort of writing at least dulled the pain a bit but he remembered his wife waiting for him and rolled his effort up into a scroll. He went to the scops owl, FluffyMcFluffyBeak (named by his grandchildren), and attached the scroll to her leg, addressed to the Daily Prophet.
He wondered how Harry was doing off on his next great adventure, and then Ron Weasley went home to comfort his wife.