The sun was setting on Stoatshead Hill from a cloudless sky in Ottery, St. Catchpole. A whirlwind appeared out of nowhere, above a flat shelf of the hill. Rabbits, who had been enjoying a late afternoon snack on the crops, scattered and hid in their holes. First, a large bicycle wheel emerged in its pith, high in the air, and then fingers, hands and entire bodies appeared. Over twenty people manifested, and let go of the portkey gradually, gliding comfortably onto the crest of Stoatshead Hill.

         The travelers included the Weasley family- Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, George, Ron and Ginny. One member was tragically missing- Fred Weasley, freshly interred. Some from the reconstituted Order of the Phoenix had also arrived- Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fleur Delacour, Hestia Jones, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, among others. Then there were the Diggories and the Fawcetts, who were also residents of Ottery, St Catchpole, and lived not very far from the Burrow.

         There had been at least fifty funerals over the past few days, all casualties of the Battle of Hogwarts. It had been a massacre, with the death toll rising to several hundreds, although this news was not from any confirmed sources. The Ministry had been mum on the figures.

“This has to be the largest portkey transport I have ever been in,” said Amos, father of the late triwizard champion, Cedric Diggory. “Of course, we had permission from the portkey office. Still, it is likely we might have set some sort of record with twenty seven. Eh, Percy?”

         “The most in a group transported via portkey, reported to the portkey office is 32,” Percy clarified. None of the others spoke. There were a few uncomfortable coughs and sniffles. 

         Rest of the journey home was mostly in silence. Ginny led the group in climbing down the hill. She wanted desperately to get home first, and lock herself in her bedroom. She did not want to see any faces at the moment. Especially not those of her family members. And particularly not of George, the identical twin of the late Fred. The latter had likely realized this, and was trailing behind, along with some of the grown adults. Ginny hadn’t shed a tear yet since the funeral; she felt hollow inside, unable to well up any emotion, almost in a trance.

         They had almost arrived home. The Burrow was so well-hidden that Molly thought that the postman did not know of its existence. The party had taken the longer path around the house, as a precaution against stray death eaters waiting to ambush them. Most of the death eaters had surrendered, but there were some who were too far-gone; in whom evil had taken deep roots; and also there were some- too bitter to accept the death of their Dark Lord. The caution turned out to be unnecessary, as no such danger was encountered. They did have the benefit of taking the scenic route- the gnome patch and the frog pond, which seemed untouched.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

         Molly and Arthur quickly removed protection charms and anti break-in spells placed on their modest house. They entered through the kitchen door. Ginny was the first to enter. She took the stairs to her bedroom on the first floor and locked herself in. Percy made to follow her but Molly dissuaded him. 

         “Let her be,” she asserted, while wiping some of her stray tears, “She needs some time alone.”

         Ginny lay on her back, a pillow stuffed against her face. She could hear vague conversations from the kitchen.

-is going to be the next Minister of magic-

-Kingsley-

-Molly, some tea-

-famishing-

-hurt myself when landing-

-Ministry, interrogate Harry-

         The group below had not hesitated to break the ice and had already moved on to the meatier topics.

         Ginny’s room was small, but bright, and overlooked the orchard. Several posters of the Weird Sisters were plastered across the walls- most of them had the entire band posing, while there was one of Myron Wagtail (lead singer), and another one of Kirley Duke (lead guitar). One entire wall was dedicated to the Holyhead Harpies captain, Gwenog Jones.

         Her room was in a state of disorder- clothes scattered across the floor, drawers and cupboards were crooked, books on almost every piece of furniture. And her posters had started peeling. But Ginny did not even have the energy to use magic to set things in order. The mess reminded her of the times Fred had offered to clean her room. 

         “Let me help clean your room, and in exchange you will help me and George prank Ron-”

         The pain rushed in, the realization, first in waves, and then it turned into a storm. Ginny screamed into the pillow, biting hard into it, to muffle the sound.

         Ginny was similar to the twins in temperament, and they pampered her sometimes. They had also let on the fact to her that both of them had a crush on a muggle paper shop girl in the village. She was resistant to all their charms. Even after George allowed Fred to make the first move, the latter was too shy to ask her out.

         There was a knock on her door.

         The young Weasley removed the pillow from her face, to find it sodden with tears. She had been crying incessantly for at least half an hour. She went to the door, prepared to blow her lid if it was one of her brothers. But the door opened to reveal a breathtakingly beautiful witch instead. Fleur Delacour.