And yet he did, firmly, and with the kind of quiet courage that comes only from loving

well, and being well-loved. James sat in the second row, between Albus and Lily. He stared furiously at Kingsleys face as he spoke, concentrating on the words, trying very hard not to look at the shiny wooden box behind the big man. The lid was open, showing a snowy white, cushioned interior. Next to James, Lily sniffed quietly and leaned against her mothers shoulder. Albus sat ramrod straight, his face blank and pale. The tiny church at Ottery St. Catchpole was packed and hot. During Arthurs lifetime, Kingsley went on, he saw both great and horrible things. In his family, he witnessed the purest of delights, and more importantly, was the sort of man who knew how to enjoy them. He also faced the most terrible of trials and endured the greatest sacrifices. And yet his heart was pure enough to not become embittered by them. Hatred had no foothold in this man. Viciousness knew him not. Corruption could not bend him. Dimly, James was aware of the many family members and friends whod travelled from far and wide to be present. Hed seen Hagrid come in, and even now he could hear the half-giant blowing his nose in the row behind him. Luna was there along with her skinny new beau, Rolf Scamander, who in his brown suit and huge glasses looked, to James, vaguely like a human version of one of those insects cleverly disguised by nature to resemble a dried stick. Neville Longbottom was present as well as the Diggorys, who lived nearby in the village. A surprising number of Granddads co-workers from the Ministry had also come, most straight from London. Directly in front of James sat his grandmother. Mollys shoulders shook, but she made no sound. Next to her, Bill put his arm around her. His eyes glistened. He frowned very slightly as Kingsley went on. There are men who devote their lives to fairness, who study, and campaign, and lead charges. There are men who seek power and influence, who arise to positions of great authority and make momentous decisions. And there are men who devote their lives to training for war, whose skills with the wand and the sword are legendary, who are the first into battle and the last to retreat. Arthur Weasley was not any of these men. He was better. His benevolence had no root in guilt. His position was not born of pride. And his fight was not for the sake of glory. In his steadfast heart, he was effortlessly what most of us try to be by sheer willpower. He was a man without guile. A man of duty and loyalty. A man with the strength of right, and love. But mostly, Arthur Weasley was a father and a husband and a friend. For the first time, Kingsley lowered his eyes. He pressed his lips together, and then removed his glasses. Still looking down at the small podium before him, he concluded: Arthur Weasley was the best of his kind. And we shall miss him. In the silence that followed, James fought back his tears. It was so confusing. When hed first understood what was happening that afternoon as theyd all stood in the parlor looking at Granddads hand on the Weasley clock, hed felt strangely numb. Hed known he shouldve felt sorrow, or anger, or fear, but instead, hed felt just a strange, ringing emptiness. As the family had dissolved into confused conversationdemands of explanations, expressions of griefHarry had taken Lily, Albus, and James upstairs to the bedroom theyd so often shared. Do you understand what this means? he had asked them, looking each one in the eyes, his face serious and sad. Lily and Albus had nodded dumbly. James hadnt nodded. If hed understood what had 24