Sacred to the Memory

May 1993

Mary Leighton visited the churchyard every day, even if it was only for five minutes of calm and fond reflection. Time had healed the old wounds, but it had left scars. Still, she had her health, grandchildren, and the Women's Institute to keep her going. Nevertheless, she always spent an hour or two a week clearing the moss from Bob's stone. For many years, the now-marked graves to the right lay neglected. She put down to senility and overactive imagination the strange figures she once thought she saw clustered there on Halloween. However, a decade or so after the death of the young couple, Mary began to notice changes in the gravestone. It looked - no, definitely was - cleaner. Flowers had been planted around the grave, which appeared well-tended. One afternoon, Mary was removing the now-dead flowers her grandchildren had placed on their Grandpa's grave, when she saw a red-haired woman approach the Potters' grave, wearing a rather odd outfit. She was sure the lady wasn't from the village and thought, given the similarity in hair colour, that she could have been a relative of the wife, though the visitor was too young to have been her mother, and probably too old to have been her sister.

Mrs Weasley knelt in front of the grave and briskly began to clear away the weeds.

"I do hope Harry's all right," she muttered to herself as she worked. "Percy's letter - of course, he's the only one who tells me anything - said that Hermione was Petrified, the poor dear. Of course, she'll be fine; Percy said that the mandrakes shouldn't be much longer in maturing. He seemed terribly upset, Percy. I never knew he was so fond of Hermione. But Ron and Harry must be devastated; it's such a shame. I feel so much better knowing they've got a nice little friend like her. Goodness knows, those boys need a maturing influence on them. Flying a car to school, indeed! But what Harry needs most of all is a bit of mothering." Here, she paused and looked up at the gravestone sadly. "Yes, he does need a mother," she continued. "I did try this summer. It was such a pleasure to have him with us; he was so polite, and after everything he's been through...

"And it seems he's having a difficult time of it this year, too. Got himself into an awful mess playing Quidditch and had to regrow some of his bones. And Percy wrote that most of the school believe that he's the Heir of Slytherin and is setting some sort of monster on the students. What nonsense. Honestly, children can be so cruel. He must feel so lonely. Of course, Ron is still his friend, and Fred and George think it's terribly funny - those boys treat everything as a joke. But I hope it helps Harry, and at least they are showing that they don't believe it's him. It's such an awful thing as well, someone attacking all the Muggle-borns. Ginny's been taking it very badly. I never realised she was so sensitive. It may be that she thinks so much of Harry, that people blaming him is upsetting her. She could barely talk to him all summer; she scarcely even said a word when he was in the room. The boys teased her about it, but that's what brothers are like; they didn't mean any harm by it. I did feel sorry for the poor dear, though. I know what it feels like; when I was her age I had a huge crush on one of our house prefects. He was ever so dishy. But I wish Ginny wouldn't get so nervous around Harry. The only way he'll notice her is if she speaks to him. Then, in a few years time...ah well, Ginny'll sort herself out, and she and Harry are both far too young for that sort of thing at the moment.

"I do hope they're all safe. I keep telling myself that Dumbledore won't let anything happen to them, and they've got a brilliant Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who'll protect them, but it is hard not to worry. Arthur said that Fudge arrested Hagrid; apparently, he was expelled for opening the Chamber of Secrets last time. But it couldn't have been Hagrid. I knew him when he was apprenticed to the gamekeeper when I was at Hogwarts. He and Charlie spent hours talking about dragons together, and he's very fond of Harry and devoted to Dumbledore. I can't help thinking whoever it really is is still out there. I should have had them home this Christmas, but we hadn't realised how bad it was, and we hadn't seen Bill in almost two years. I don't suppose Ron would leave Harry in the holidays, anyway. Poor Harry, all he wants is to be a normal boy with a normal family. He seemed so much happier after some time at home with the boys. He started acting like a child. I wish I knew him better; he does so need a mother. I'll see if I can have him to stay with us for a few weeks over the summer, I can't bear the thought of him stuck with those awful Muggles."

"I'm sorry," she said absently to the gravestone. "I know that she's his aunt, and I suppose she must love him in her own way, but Fred, George and Ron said that they'd locked him in his room and were starving him. He deserves so much better. At least he gets some solid meals inside him during term time."

She sat back on her haunches and viewed her handiwork.

"Of course, this would be much easier with magic," she murmured, producing a sponge and rubbing at the stone. "But there are far too many Muggles about. I hope you don't mind me doing this, but after hearing about how those Muggles treat him and having him at the Burrow last summer, I felt I wanted to do something for him, other than sending him a jumper at Christmas. This was all I could think of. I don't know if he knows about this place, or whether he'd want to come if he did. I shouldn't think 'they'd' bring him. I daresay it's a bit morbid for a twelve-year-old boy. But one day he'll visit here, I'm certain, and for the meantime, I'll make sure that if anyone does come, it's reasonably well-kept. There." With that, she stood up, the sponge seeming to vanish. Mrs Weasley glanced about her and shook her head, slightly puzzled..

"Molly, you're becoming more like that ghoul in the attic every day; you were talking to a gravestone." And, with that, she bustled away.