“I feel like a such a horrible hypocrite”, Arthur pulled his fingers through his hair. “I was so incredibly self-righteous about judging people for having family members who are Death Eaters or dark mages or muggle-haters or pureblood supremacists. I used to automatically judge Lyra for having parents who served Voldemort. And here I am now, having just buried a son who was as bad as any Death Eater, completely evil and rotten. I thought I didn’t even need to see that recording, but I did, and it managed to be worse than anything I imagined. He was as bad as Dolohov or Macnair. I’ve seen the looks people have been giving me, and it’s the same looks I’ve been giving people with evil family members before, not thinking anything of it. They must have done something or be guilty of something, by association. It runs in the family. An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I disgust myself”, he wiped a tear from his face.

“It’s healthy. It’s part of the healing process”, Lyra approached and hugged him. “I was there, I know. When Voldemort returned and I understood he’s pure evil, and my parents bet everything on him twice, I felt so ashamed of myself for blindly trusting them and offending people by repeating the nonsense I heard from them. It’s hard, it hurts, but it has to be done”, she whispered into his ear. “Self-righteousness is a horrible drug, and it hurts to wean yourself off it.”

“The worst thing is, I can’t just hate him for what he became. I also remember the good things, how he stood with Harry and Hermione, how they destroyed the Horcruxes, how proud I was when he became an Auror. I loved him so much and I grieve for that part of him, and I blame him for killing it, for becoming that murderous scum that Lyra finally rid us all off, and I grieve because he never got the chance to repent, to come back, become that good boy again”, he sobbed.

Everybody in the Burrow looked down, obviously sharing similar feelings. Healing is going to be hard. People who resented him for his ugly behaviour felt both vindicated and guilty for their feelings. People who loved him felt guilty for loving him. They didn’t know how to deal with it, and it will require careful, slow disentanglement and analysis, Lyra thought. She exchanged a look with Harry, and saw that he had the same thoughts. Hermione, too, was distraught obviously reminiscing about the good days and being unable to reconcile it with the recent developments, grieving and sad and guilty. Ginny looked like she was crying recently; she’s obviously feeling guilty about honestly hating what he became and wishing him to die or go away. Molly was crushed and wordless, but it was obvious that Arthur spoke for both of them.

…

“It’s good that they put it into words”, Lyra kicked her shoes off as she made herself comfortable on her favourite couch. “It makes healing easier. So much of our personal history is intertwined with him, and most of it was good memories. We can’t just lock those away.”

“It would destroy our hearts if we did that”, Hermione whispered. “Half of my memories would go dark if I tried. And if I embrace the good, I’m afraid I’ll open myself up to that horrible evil that I felt from him in the end, and I don’t know how to reconcile those feelings”, she sniffed.

“We buried the evil today. It ended. But the good remains part of us forever”, Harry nodded. “It’s just that now, we no longer have to feel guilty for perceiving parts of that evil as it asserted its dominance over his soul over the years, and eventually overcame him”.

“I think that’s a good way of looking at it”, Lyra nodded. “The good existed, it partook in our lives, but the evil also existed, rose up occasionally, and eventually won, as he abandoned the good part of himself that shared our lives. He chose parts of himself he wanted to be, and we can keep parts of him that we want to keep. They no longer share a person.”

“Thank you both”, Hermione looked at Lyra and Harry. “It actually helps when you put it into words that way. It makes it granular, doesn’t force me to either accept all of him or reject all of him. I can look at each memory individually, and be relaxed and secure about dealing with it”.

“Now you made me feel guilty for having no good thoughts or memories of him, and just being very glad that the bastard who tried to slander and later kill my wife is finally dead”, Viktor grinned.

“Don’t be”, Hermione smiled. “You’re in a much healthier place than we are, but I hope we’ll all join you there in a few days, if not in the morning already”.

“I’m going to get something to eat, and you can join me in that immediately, to hasten the process”, he smiled back.

“Is there anything fresh there? I’m starving”, Lyra gave him a mischievous grin, and went to raid the kitchen with him.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, and burst into laughter. “I envy them so much”, he smiled as he stood up and offered her a hand. “I hear that biscuits with some butter do wonders against overcomplicating your life by trying to save people who don’t want to be saved”.

“Milk, not tea. It’s too late for caffeine”, she beamed and took his hand.

“Honestly, I regret Lyra not being the third person in our group from the beginning”, he mused as they went to the kitchen where she was slicing jamón ibérico very thinly for herself and Viktor.

“You have a point there”, Hermione agreed. “How was she even not sorted into Gryffindor, with her heart?”

“I asked the hat to sort me into Slytherin because my parents told me it was the best house”, Lyra spoke with mouth full of ham sandwich. “It was one of their less brilliant pieces of advice”.

“Well, at least we sorted ourselves into the same house later, so it all ended well”, Harry grinned and started stuffing his plate with food.