Funeral

Today was the day of the funeral. Back at my family mansion on the outskirts of London, Eva and I were dressing for it. Eva had already moved her things in and taken up residence in a guest bedroom. We had decided to leave my parents' room untouched as we both got emotional whenever we entered the space.

I was in a black dress that, to express the solemnity of the affair, was quite plain. While being expensive, it was also very modest. After all, not only was I four, but the dress also needed to cover up the scar over my heart as well as the wounds on my thigh and shoulder which were not completely healed.

The only jewelry I wore was the Eilean ring. As the head of the family, I also wore the Eilean dagger fastened to my waist. Both of them being made of silver and black materials coincided nicely with the occasion.

My hair, which hung below my shoulders, was combed until it was silky. The hair hung loose, Eva having decided that it being tied up didn't suit my aesthetic well. Only a black bow adorned the back of my head. When Eva seated me in front of a mirror and began applying small amounts of makeup to touch-up my face, I was hit with the realization that this was the first time I'd seen what I looked like.

I estimated that I was roughly 105 centimeters tall (about 41 inches) and weighed 17 kilograms (about 37.5 pounds). My hair was a shade of purple that seemed to be a mix of the sangria and wine shades. Going past my shoulders, it was mostly straight but developed a slight wave towards the end. As for my eyes, they were a vibrant blood red. Coupled with my fair white skin, I gave off an exotic, almost magical look.

I quite liked my new appearance.

When we were both ready – well, as ready as we could be – Eva apparated us to the cemetery. I closed my eyes for the experience since I still found it disorienting. When we arrived, I kept my eyes shut for a few more seconds to steel myself for what was to come.

Readying myself, I opened my eyes and found myself in a cemetery that had a very peaceful atmosphere to it. Trees dotted the grounds and the sounds of cheerful birds filled the air.

Dozens of wizards were surrounding two caskets. I was able to recognize many of them from the book and movie descriptions; the grey-haired Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and Professor Flitwick. Eva also pointed out others as we walked forward and provided me their names. Interestingly, Ted and Andromeda Tonks were also present. From such a makeup, I concluded that my mother had built strong ties with Dumbledore's faction in particular.

Of course, after my proclamation at the Ministry yesterday, many people who might have come to the funeral may have decided against it so as to not ruin the mood. There were some – like Mr. Weasley – who did for the Ministry, however none of them held very high or elite positions.

Eva and I walked and stood in between both caskets. Both caskets had their upper half open allowing people to come and say their final farewells. I did my best to not look at my dead parents as I felt emotions welling up in me.

As I stood there, all the attendees came up one-by-one. Some said words to my father and/or mother, while most just looked at them in sadness before coming up to me and offering words of condolence and sympathy. But I felt as though all their words were empty. What good does saying 'I'm sorry for your loss,' or 'my thoughts are with you,' or 'I know what you're going through' do for me? Those words meant nothing, especially when spoken to four-year-old they didn't even know.

However, as the Young Miss and now Head of the Eilean House, I maintained my smile from one person to the next.

Ted and Andromeda Tonks were some of the last to come up to me. With them was a girl who looked about four years older than me and I knew she must be Nymphadora Tonks. Despite her metamorphmagus abilities, she looked like a very normal girl. This was probably a result of it being a solemn affair. I was a little surprised to see her since no other children or youth had attended. After Ted and Andromeda had spoken their piece to me, they started up a conversation with Eva. As they did so, Nymphadora approached me and said, "Well, this sucks."

Andromeda had apparently heard the seemingly insensitive remark and started to reprimand her. But she stopped when she heard my crystal-clear laugh. Eva, Ted, Andromeda, and Nymphadora looked at me in confusion.

When I calmed down, I explained myself. "It was unexpected but…I found it refreshing. For you it may be insensitive but for me it was exactly what I needed to hear. No platitudes. No sympathies. She spoke the simple truth: this does suck." I then gazed at Nymphadora with a warm smile. "Thank you, Nymphadora."

She blushed in embarrassment. "You're welcome." Then, as her parents gave me their well-wishes again and began walking away, Nymphadora turned back and said, "You can call me Dora if you want. That's what my friends call me."

I nodded. "I'm glad to have you as a friend, Dora. You can call me Keira."

She nodded in return, smiling, before following her parents.

(An interesting girl) I thought. (I wouldn't mind getting to know her more).

After that, I only had to deal with a few more people before the actual funeral began. Given the situation, the funeral was designed to be a short affair. With Sarah and Devin being my parents and them being Eva's best friends, neither of us were in a fit state to conduct and speak at this event. As such, Eva had invited Dumbledore to speak a few words before we proceeded to the burial.

Of course, Eva had gotten my permission before asking the wizened wizard to speak. My opinion of Dumbledore was neutral. Assuming his personality was like it was portrayed in the book, he was a genuinely nice person that cared for those around him. His power was nothing to scoff at either. That said, the way he did things and the way I would have done things – and would do things – had differences. For now, I didn't have the strength to interfere with him, but it wouldn't be that way forever.

Dumbledore, with his long beard tucked into his belt, strode up next to the caskets and looked at me with a warm smile before sweeping his gaze across everyone present.

"There is no light without darkness, love without hate, happiness without sorrow. It is the very nature of this world to have opposition. The wizarding world has certainly faced its fair share of darkness as of late. Yet we have also seen much light. Indeed, many of us here have been champions of that light. Today we grieve over two of the lights we've lost. Though the great actions of both went largely unnoticed by the wizarding world, there is not one among us who was not touched by them in some fashion."

"Sarah and Devin's relationship with each other was a beautiful story of love. The last witch of an ancient and powerful house and a humble wizard of muggle origins. It should have been almost impossible for them to marry. Yet they did. Not for power or politics or money, but for love. If there were more stories like Sarah and Devin, the world would be an amazing place."

Many people were nodding at his words.

Dumbledore paused for a moment before locking his gaze onto mine.

"However, if anyone were to ask them what they loved most in this world, the answer would be their daughter, Keira. I don't think I ever had a conversation with them where they didn't mention how adorable their daughter was, how intelligent she was, and how kind she was. Their very nature can be seen in their last actions: to lay down their lives for their daughter. Surely there is no greater love than this. They may no longer be with us, but they will always be here," he said placing his hand over his heart.

His words hung heavily over the cemetery as he finished his speech. Though it was short, almost everyone was in tears. For myself, I turned my face downwards and dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands to try and prevent my own tears from falling, but to little avail.

"We now say farewell to a great witch and wizard," Dumbledore said. He waved his wand and the lids to their caskets gently closed. With another wave of his want, the caskets levitated in the air and floated towards the hole in the ground.

As I watched the caskets close and move, a sense of wrongness overwhelmed me. It was as though what was happening went against everything I believed in. At first I thought that this feeling was just because I couldn't accept my parents' deaths. But some part of me said that wasn't it.

I searched the original Keira's memories looking for the reason. As soon as I came upon the memory, I immediately yelled out, "Stop! This is not right!" Eva bent down to me and tried to quiet and console me, thinking my outburst was simply that of a grieving child.

However, feeling as though I was no longer in full control of my body, I dodged her hand and strode forward to the caskets. I could feel the magic power in me bubbling in excitement as I channeled it through my outstretched hand. The next moment, both caskets paused where they were and their lids sprung fully open. Sarah and Devin's bodies then floated up and approached me.

Everyone was looking at me in shock. I didn't know if it was because they were surprised at my magic usage or because of what I was doing.

In a firm tone, I said, "Eileans will not be constrained by the restraints of the earth. We will not be caged in caskets. No. We will be free as we roam through the winds. Eileans burn." In the memories of the original Keira, I discovered that the Eilean family held strongly onto the tradition of burning their dead. As an Eilean, it was practically taboo to be buried.

Vibrant violet flames materialized and shrouded both my hands. I stretched my hands to my parents' bodies and touched them. The flames ignited, quickly enshrouded their bodies.

Without any regard to the heat, I stood there and watched them slowly be consumed. I could now no longer control my emotions as tears flowed freely. I didn't even notice that my fingernails had punctured my hands causing blood to drip onto the grass below.

As I ignored everyone around me, the words of a song sprung to my lips. It was a song I had heard from a movie in my past life: Pippin's song. I had always sung or hummed it to calm myself down after missions or when I was feeling depressed. Though the song had sorrow and despair in it, it also had hope and possibility.

Home is behind the world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow to the edge of night

Until the stars are all alight.

Mist and shadow

Cloud and shade

All shall fade

All shall fade

My singing voice was not good and the words of the short song had often been obscured by my sobs. When the last syllable left my lips, the high-temperature flames consumed the last of my parents. From both magical and emotional exhaustion, I collapsed back into Eva's arms who had been tearfully by my side.

**********

(3rd person POV)

Not a single person left the funeral that day without tears in their eyes. Even after all the horrible events of the war during these past few years, seeing the sorrow of the Eilean girl was by far the saddest thing these people had ever seen. For a child to feel so much sadness was something that just shouldn't be.

Those present would never forget the scene. It was a reminder to protect what you most loved. It was a constant reminder of the effects of war. It was a reminder to protect the children.

In fact, it was such a memorable moment that those who had been present would often share it with others via a pensieve. Then, being impacted by the scene themselves, those people also chose to share their own memory of it with others.

Indeed, though the name of the girl was never shared outside of those who had been present, years down the road, most adults – and many children – had seen the purple-haired girl with blood dripping from her hands sing as she bade farewell to her burning parents.

Many years later, paintings were commissioned. These weren't paintings done in the style of wizards, but rather muggles. People had different names for the image the artists made. Some called it 'True Effects of War' while others called it 'War's Lament.' The most popular title, however, was to simply call it, 'Love.'