James
The funeral was held two days after graduation, because if he'd died while at school Dumbledore would have felt obliged to get involved. It was closed-casket. No one wants to see what's left after someone's been Hogwarts Expressed (too damn quick, considering what he put her boy through, but better quick than uncertain). Terrible accident, tragic. People's cats really ought not to be allowed to wander around loose on the platform. It had been bound to happen sooner or later.
Lily cried a lot, and appreciated Severus's earnest but breathtakingly lame attempts to look sad for her instead of absobloodylutely thrilled. She let him convince her a change of scenery would do her a world of good and spent the war in Switzerland, getting her mastery in Integrated Magical Theory (Charms Focus) and trying to repair her relationship with her sister.
Petunia, at the time, was studying accounting and walking out with a rather dreary young man. She sufficiently enjoyed being in a relationship while her sister wasn't that her smug graciousness came across as warmth. Lily was never very good at telling the difference, and took it at face value. While never as close as she would have liked, they were on good enough terms that she asked for and got for Petunia's old textbooks when Vernon declared HIS wife wouldn't need to work. Lily's currently overseeing the Wizarding Endowment for the Arts. Its creation was a tough sell, but she could sell Horace on nearly anything, and in Wizarding Britain he's nearly all the support a project needs to get off the ground. It's doing wonders for Knockturn Alley, and the economy in general.
Quite a lot of the funding comes from the Malfoys. They don't care for the head of the program, of course, too icky. But they don't have to speak to her, and concerts and plays and gallery showings are wonderful places to do business. Narcissa is even starting to find wizarding music to like these days, too, which is a great relief. It was dreadful when the only music she could bear was either hundreds of years old or muggle. And Lucius loves the dancing. Well, not the actual dances. The stories make no damn sense. But, you know, the dancers. In their costumes. IfyouknowwhatImean. Besides Draco clearly has melodrama in his blood. They need to make the stage respectable fast, before he shows up on it.
Neville made a more stably humble hero for the public, less apt to fly off the handle at the press, but took just as much flak for his stammering as Harry ever did for his temper. His ensemble support team fumbled around a bit, but they got the job done. Ron felt like a part of something rather than a sidekick. Seamus blew up everything in sight, it was righteous. Dean did a graphic novel about the war later, which set him up well enough to do his own stories. They were almost as epic as Seamus's exposions, everyone agreed. Hermione and Luna were at each other's throats the whole time, but Oxford taught them how to have fun with it. There was no wedding, and there were also no cats (there was one half-kneazle), and the argument about whether the horn in the hall was erumpent or snorkack and going away tomorrow or never waxed eternal.
Parvati and Lavender took Sybill to rehab, once Hermione had explained it to them. A true Gryffindor can stand up even to her friends.
Voldemort choked to death on Trevor while monologuing. Greater love hath no toad. Truly it was the power the Dark Lord knew not.
Neither did anyone else. Frankly, no one knew what to do with that. Not even Rita. In the end, the official story was: Sorting Hat disgorged Sword of Gryffindor, Killing Curse bounced off it like a mirror, hit Voldemort inna face, the end. Much more palatable.
Especially to Voldemort.
(It was totally Trevor.)