"Molly, dear, do you want me to help you with the boggart?"
Molly Weasley was glad that her husband was in the other room. "No, Arthur. You're busy. I can handle it myself." The expression on her face said very clearly that she could not handle it herself, but damned if she was going to let any of her family see her at her weakest.
She drew her wand from her pocket and murmured a spell, closing the door behind her and effectively silencing the room. Taking a deep breath, she waved her wand at the tall wardrobe in her bedroom. The door creaked open and she waited.
Stumbling out of the wardrobe came Arthur, bleeding from various wounds and gasping for breath. He fell to the floor and let out a low moan before he stopped breathing.
Molly clutched her wand until her knuckles went white. She pointed the wood at her dead husband. "Ridikulus," she said with a shudder. The form on the floor disappeared with a "pop" and was replaced by her eldest son, Bill, in a similar state. His long hair, the bane of her existence (if he'd just let her trim it a little!), was matted with blood. His breath was shallow.
Molly's throat constricted. "Ridikulus!" she managed to choke out, barely containing a sob. Her firstborn disappeared and Charlie appeared in his stead.
Charlie, her brave dragon tamer; his skin was rent from head to toe in one long line, as if he'd been clawed open by the very beasts he adored. "Ridikulus!" Molly shrieked, gasping through the tears now running freely down her face.
Charlie became Percy, her runaway. His glasses were snapped in half, the lenses shattered; he was badly bruised and bleeding. He wasn't breathing any more. "Ridikulus!" came the cry. Molly was now a wreck; her hands were shaking badly and her knees looked as if they were about to give out. The boggart popped again and began to change form.
Oh, god. There were her twins. Fred and George lay strewn across each other, in their horrid magenta dragon skin robes, dead. Their eyes were open and staring at her, almost accusingly. They were injured all over, bleeding...
Molly dropped to her knees, full-out sobbing. "R-ri-rid..." She couldn't form the words; every time she looked at the forms of her twins, a new wave of grief hit her. Her cries were so loud, she didn't hear the door opening behind her.
"Dad said it was somewhere on the-"
"Mum!"
"What in the..."
Fred and George stopped in their tracks, taking in the scene before them. There they were, lying dead on the floor. And there was their mum, sobbing next to their bodies.
In front of an open wardrobe.
Their eyes connected, conveying the same thought: boggart. Nodding slightly, the boys stepped forward. In unison, they spoke. "Ridikulus."
The boggart popped and began to form in a new shape, facing the two boys. Molly glared at them, unmatched fury in her eyes. "Fred and George Weasley!" she shrieked. "You two are the most disgraceful sons in the world! I hate you! I never want to see you again!"
George took a step back, gripping his wand tightly. Fred was frozen still, tears almost forming in his eyes.
"Get out of my house!" the banshee-like woman continued. "Get out of my life! You are dead to me!"
"Ridikulus!"
The boggart, bombarded with three spells at once, was overloaded. It disappeared with a poof of smoke and a bang.
Then the room was silent.
Fred stood stock still, taking deep breaths, his eyes wide. George was leaning up against the wall, eyes closed. His wand hand was limp at his side. Molly was off of the floor, her face tear-streaked and her arm still extended, gripping her wand. A new wave of tears almost overtook her as she stared at her sons.
"What were you doing, facing a boggart alone?" Fred inquired softly.
"You should have come to us for help, mum," George added tentatively. Neither of them would make eye-contact with their mother; the boggart's words had been too real.
Molly began to cry as she rushed over to envelope her twins in a hug. "I could never hate you!" she sobbed. "I love you two so much!"
"We know mum," Fred replied, patting her back.
"We never doubted it." George added, blinking back a tear.
"And if you think we're going to just up and die like that-"
"You've got another thing coming-"
"Because we plan on sticking around for a long time."
"To give you annoying grandchildren who will put firecrackers in your soup."
Molly laughed through her tears. Trust the twins to bring humor to a completely non-humorous situation.
It took a moment before the three regained their composure. "Well," Molly finally began. "I suppose you two had better get along."
"Right."
"We'd come in for something for Dad-"
"But he can get it himself."
"Lazy bum."
Molly watched fondly as her two absurd twins made their way out of the room. Although they could be rather insufferable at times, she loved them. And it was apparent that they loved her, too.
They paused before exiting. "Mum, we mean it," Fred repeated. "We don't ever want you to have to go through that alone again."
"Come get us next time," George offered. "We could round up Ron and Ginny to help too."
Molly smiled at her son. "Thank you, you two. We'll see." In all reality, Molly had no intentions of inviting her family to a boggart banishing session. She didn't want them to see her at her worst, didn't want her fears to become theirs. They were so innocent.
She thought back to what had happened that day and smiled wryly. So maybe her babies were growing up.
"Mum?"
She blinked. "Yes boys?"
The twins shared a glance before replying. "We love you."
Molly watched them go with a shocked look on her face. It wasn't often that she heard that from her sons any more. She smiled, a tear in her eye. "I love you too," she whispered to the silence. "So much."