Harry went to the bar and asked for a glass of firewhiskey. He hadn't planned on drinking, but he just couldn't toast his godfather's memory with water. Sirius would have been offended at the thought.
He made his way to the front of the room through the crowd that had gathered, nodding and murmuring nonsense as people gripped his shoulder or patted his back. Harry hadn't realised how many people Sirius knew, but the CHADMAC group came out in force, as did the Leaky's staff, even the ones not working that evening. The room grew quiet as he climbed the steps to the stage with people turning to face him and Tom's staff moving through the crowd, summoning drinks and bottles from the bar.
There was no planning what to say; it would have been too painful or not good enough. Instead, Harry opened his mouth, counting on the right words to spill out.
"You all know why we're here. A good man has gone. What you don't know is that he left us to heal, once and for all, the magical drain we'd been having." He heard some surprised muttering and waited another moment before continuing. "Yes, it wasn't me who fixed it for good, it was Sirius. He thought he was the only person who could, and since I can do this-" Harry summoned the portrait and easel to the stage and they effortlessly settled back down together. "He must have been right."
The Sirius inside the framed waved wildly at first and then seemed to pause as he noticed the somber faces staring back at him. He crossed his arms and turned to Harry, appearing to be listening to his own goodbye. With a deeper tone in his voice, Harry continued.
"He saved us all, but he had to give his life. Sirius Black was the most noble, big-hearted, fun-loving, aggravating and exciting man I've known. And-" Harry swallowed thickly. "And I love him. Can't speak about that in the past tense, because it's never going to go away. I hope you feel the same."
Raising his drink high, Harry could barely feel the glass under his fingertips. "To Sirius Black."