Funeral
Within two days of Henry's death, his funeral was held near Potter Manor. He would then be taken to a cemetery. Where most of the Potter family members were buried. There was also the grave of James' grandmother.
It would be the first funeral James would attend. Both in this life and in his previous life as Edward Rothschild.
James was in a confused state of mind. There were moments when he still found it hard to believe that his grandfather had died. Perhaps when the funeral was over Henry's death would become more real.
James stood in one of the many rooms of the mansion, looking out a window onto one of the mansion's gardens. In his hand, he held a circular locket.
In the center of the locket is a capital letter P with glittering stones inlaid. This was the locket his grandfather always wore around his neck. According to what he told him it is worn by all Lord Potters.
In the will, Henry passed the title Lord Potter and all that goes with it to James. It was odd, since before him was his father and his uncle Charlus. A generation earlier, but they didn't care and respected his father's decision.
As James looked out the window he heard the door to the room open. He did not turn his head.
"At last I find you, James. It was hard looking for you in so many rooms. I still can't get used to how gigantic the mansion is. Why did you choose a disused room?" said Fleamont, approaching his son.
"I just picked a random room," James replied in a low tone.
"It's about time. We should head to the funeral," said Fleamont. His mood was not good at all, but he wanted to show himself strong to James.
"You know, James... Your grandfather was always a man of strong character and stubbornness. His dream was always to take the Potter family to the top. Never letting go of the family's ideals. I remember me and Charlus always getting hammered in his magic training," Fleamont said with a slight smile, remembering when he was a teenager and his father was training him.
"Yes... I will keep the promise I made with my grandfather. I won't let them belittle the Potters again," said James with sudden determination.
"I'm sure you will. That's why you were chosen by the new Lord Potter. Don't worry Charlus, and I agree. We always knew Father was extremely proud when he trained you. He found in you what we lacked," Fleamont said with a slightly sad smile.
"Father..." said James worriedly, looking out of the window to look at Fleamont.
"Don't think badly. Your grandfather has always loved Charlus and me, but if it wasn't for your grandmother, we'd be in wheelchairs today. His trainings were no joke," Fleamont said with a chuckle.
"Thanks to that training, I was able to be victorious in all my duels at Hogwarts, but afterward, I didn't see it as much fun to go through such training hell, nor studying subjects that didn't interest me. Charlus felt the same way. I was the eldest and next in line to inherit the title of Lord Potter. However, I became a Potioner."
"I still remember the disappointment on my father's face when I decided to have my own potions business and not attach any importance to the title of Lord. I suppose he must have worn the same expression when Charlus told him he wanted to become a Magizoologist. However, he respected our wishes and didn't force us to carry the weight of the Potter family on our backs," said Fleamont.
"He wasn't stubborn as usual," commented James with a slight smile.
"Yes hahaha. He was very understanding. Another father would have lectured us and prepared us to be the heirs," said Fleamont with a smile.
'Grandfather was different from my old parents. He would never force someone to become an heir,' thought James, looking at the locket.
"When you were born he was very happy to be able to see his first grandchild. More was his happiness when he noticed in you a monstrous talent and ambition. You were what he always wanted. An heir with his same ambition for the family and talent more monstrous than yours or ours," said Fleamont with a slight smile.
'Me ambition...?' thought James. His goal had always been survival, and to achieve it he had to be more powerful than his would-be assassin, Voldemort.
However, in the eyes of others, he might appear to have great ambition as he never stopped training and studying.
"That's why I want to ask you and be sure, James," said Fleamont in a serious tone, looking at his son.
"Although the title Lord may seem very juicy as you will have great authority and the Manor among other valuables. You will carry a great burden on your shoulders. The weight of family. Do you wish to become Lord Potter?" asked Fleamont, staring at James.
James was silent in thought. By the grace of fate, he ended up in a similar situation as in his past life as Edward. He was to carry his family name and take it to the top.
Was this fate?
If it was in his previous life Edward would accept, but unwillingly. He would have no real ambition to carry the weight of his family. However, in this life, James did not hesitate.
"I will be Lord Potter," James said in a forceful tone. His goal in this life was no longer just to survive. He was to protect his loved ones and kick those damn dark wizards' asses! To protect the Muggles and take the Potter name to the top!
Fleamont nodded, "Alright, let's go. It's time for the funeral," Fleamont said as he started walking towards the exit and James followed him.
They made their way to a lake that was not too far from the Mansion. There the funeral would take place. Even though it was spring, the day was full of clouds. It seemed that at any moment it could start raining.
As he arrived at the place he felt many eyes on him. Well, he was one of the closest members of the deceased's family. It was normal to have those stares on him.
They had placed a large number of chairs in rows on both sides of an aisle. The vast majority of the chairs were occupied. There was a great variety of people: young and old. All wore elegant black robes.
James sat in the front row next to his father. Already there were his mother and the other members of the Potter family. All with sad expressions. His cousin Oliver was crying in Dorea's lap.
James' mood as he saw the open casket and his grandfather laid to rest there began to waver, and his former determination faded, and he was overcome with great sadness.
A bald individual with a serious expression, dressed in a simple black robe stood in front of the coffin. He began to say some words that James decided not to hear, the words had no meaning for him.
It finally dawned on him that his grandfather had died, and he would never see him again.
He would never train with him again. Nor would they watch a Puddlemere quidditch match together. He would stop receiving letters from his grandfather asking him how he was doing at Hogwarts. He would stop sending him letters telling them about the pranks he played at Hogwarts, the quidditch matches he won, and so much more. So many things he didn't have time to tell him.
And as he sat there, he began to feel a few drops on his face. Was he crying? No. So far he hadn't shed tears for some reason. He looked up and noticed that it had started to rain softly.
The bald man finished his speech and sat back down. Fleamont, who was next to James stood up and said a few words with a lot of feeling. He could see tears welling up in his father's eyes.
Then followed Charlus, his mother, and his aunt Dorea. Many people gave an emotional speech and shed tears. Finally, only he was missing. All his closest relatives looked at him in silence.
"Sweetheart, do you want to say goodbye?" asked Euphemia in a low tone to James.
Goodbye? Yes. He was to say goodbye to his grandfather. James got up from his seat and walked slowly towards the casket as he was watched by everyone.
Instead of saying any words, James pulled out his wand and looked at his grandfather's face, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Everyone in the room looked at him blankly.
'A happy memory... The first time I watched a quidditch match with Grandpa' thought James, recalling an old memory.
"Expecto Patronum!" exclaimed James, making a graceful flick of his wand.
A bright light emanated from the tip of his wand, forming a silvery glow that gradually took the shape of a large beast.
The silver glow finally turned into a majestic dragon. A Patronus in the shape of a dragon!
The dragon began to rise into the air. Its luminous outlines danced in the gloom of the cloudy sky. Its wings unfurled gracefully, and its ethereal figure seemed to defy the darkness.
All the people sitting in the chairs watched with expressions of amazement and disbelief as the dragon flew high into the clouds. A thirteen-year-old boy casting a corporeal Patronus? What madness was this?!
When the dragon reached the clouds it seemed to pierce through them and disappeared. Within seconds the clouds began to disperse. Creating a gap through which the sun's rays began to filter through.
The sunlight once hidden behind the dense clouds now illuminated the coffin with a soft, warm glow. Henry's expression seemed more comforting than before, and there seemed to be a faint smile on his face.
'This is my farewell, Grandpa,' thought James with a pained expression. He didn't have time to show him his Corporeal Patronus. He wanted it to be a surprise, but it all ended this way.
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