Family Ties
By Chibi Tears of Pain
"I'm going to - ahhhhh - to kill that...that man!" The woman tighten her grip on the steel railing of the hospital bed, knuckles whitened and arms tensed as another contraction rippled from her stomach. After taking a moment to heavily suck in some much need oxygen, she threw her head back and -
"Aghhhhh!"
The redhead collapsed onto the supporting pillows behind her, panting for breath, dazedly tuning out the medi-witch who was trying to offer her sweet (yet indisputably fake) reassurances that "it would all be over soon."
This wasn't supposed to be happening…it was too soon. Her baby was due near the end of July, but here she was, in an over-crowded Saint Mungo's, on the 15th of May, with a child who-just-wouldn't-stay-in. She should have never left her apartment, but she had the undeniable craving for pickled ice-cream (…a weird and painful child) which she knew she could get at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. So off she went, seven months pregnant to get some damn ice-cream for the – "aggghhhhh" – little menace.
Coincidently, You-Know-Who's Death Eaters also decided a visit to Diagon Alley was in order, and chaos was determined to follow closely behind. The alley was soon filled with panicked screams, mass confusion and bright lights from the multitude of deadly spells that the Death Eaters enthusiastically deployed. A flash of red here and a woman fell to the ground screaming; her eight year old child swept up and lost in the terror-filled mob. A burst of sickly green light over there, and a man to her left fell silently to the ground, his sudden demise so abrupt that she stumbled back into the covered entrance of the shop that sold magical instruments; numbly watching as men and woman ran by, screaming for all their worth as the bright lights finally caught up to them.
A stab of pain made her knees give way, causing her to slide down the brick wall upon which she leaned; her hands grasping at the rusted-red brick, vainly trying to slow her descend onto the pitiless concrete. She watched, transfixed, as the fabric of her maternity dress seemed to bloom blood red flowers. The sopping wet cloth gaining weight as the colour spread; the material making her shiver from the chill it gave as it settle onto the sides of her stomach. She stared at the top of her stomach, horror dawning as the situation – and pain – filtered through her haze-filled mind. Her stomach was bleeding, her bloated, rounded, pushed-out-belly buttoned stomach was bleeding; her baby was…was…
'That bastard hit her with a cutting curse – no he hit her baby with a cutting curse… the little –'
Her head snapped up, eyes slowly scanning the frantic crowd which was still in massive disarray, until she her eyes landed on a Death Eater. A squat little man that was foolishly standing in a somewhat open space, firing off curses carelessly, sending colourful spouts of magic any which way.
A Death Eater…a Death Eater was responsible for hexing her baby…a Death Eater…
Amycus Carrow's high pitched, winded laugh rang through the ear-splitting screams, before his eyes met those of the collapsed Lily Evans. A lopsided leer formed on Amycus's face he zealously raised his wand, steadying it upon her prone figure.
Lily watched as the…the Death Eater raised his wand; the sparks eagerly escaping its tip were warning of what was to come. They were green sparks, the same shade of green that was to be her baby's eyes; the same shade of green as her eyes. She had not deluded herself by hoping the baby would turn out red haired, green eyed, and with as little resemblance to it's father as possible. In fact, the child would probably bear a strong likeness to it's father – no it's donor. But no matter the similarities, the child – her child – would have the same shade of bright bottle green eyes that she saw in the bathroom mirror every morning. It would have the same eyes that – she had been told – allowed anyone to see inside, to see the emotions that were forever on display, and that no amount of Occlumency could distort. Her child would have eyes the same colour that was emerging from the tip of the Death Eaters wand; the same green as…as Avada Kedavra.
Avada Kedavra…the curse that was heading toward her; the curse that would kill her. It was the curse that would end her life; that would end the life of her –
Amycus scowled as the Evans woman seemed to gain her bearings and flung herself onto the pavement, debris flying out from the wall were the curse impacted it, showering the woman with the remains of the shattered brick.
Lily looked up at the Death Eater, the movement rubbed gravel into the many cuts and scrapes that now adorned her body, but still, she watched the Death Eater as he glowered at her from where he stood raising his wand once more, anger taking the place of giddy excitement.
Lily slowly moved her hand towards the bag strapped to her side, her wand dangling precariously from one of its pockets, but still out of the Death Eaters sight.
Slowly…her fingers just brushed the handle of her wand, trying to keep her movement unnoticed by the – another green light emerged from the Death Eaters wand, this spell coming at her with more power and speed than one before it. She used her arm pushed her body roughly to the side while her other arm latched firmly onto her wand, drawing it out in front of her.
Amycus smirked in accomplishment at the cloud of rumble that had resulted from his last curse, the curse that had rid the Wizarding World of yet another mudblood; dirty little thing that it was. Did the world a favour he –
Amycus stared dumbly at the wand pointed at him with deadly accuracy, then at he mudblood he had…he thought he had…
"I will never forgive you for trying to hurt my baby."
Sectumsempra.
'That was Snape's spell; that dirty little half-blood was consorting with mud –' Amycus' last thought was never completed as his head was severed from his neck by a curse that was made by a man he once called a colleague.
The slight scuffle of feet shuffling through rubble, gratingly dragging on concrete made Lily look over her shoulder at the obviously clueless Auror standing behind her….he must have come through the store floo...Their surroundings seemed to fade as both woman and Auror stared at each other in faint – because to feel anything deeper meant that they were both out of their state of shock – surprise.
Blinking, Lily asked rhetorically, "Isn't it your job to take down Death Eaters?"
Colour flooded the young mans – no boys; he could be no older than eighteen – face as he tried to formulate a reply.
"Well…uh, you see Ma'm, I was part of the advanced placement program and I … uh, well that was my first, uh…"
--
"Aaaaagggghhhhhhh!"
"That's great Ms. Evans, just take another deep breath now, that's right, alright on three, I want you to push – hey I said on three- oh! Oh alright. C'mon now another push and –"
"Ahhhhhggggg!"
If she ever saw that – that man again she would…
"I can see the head now, so you need to keep pushing Ms. Evans…"
…make him understand just how…
"It's okay Ms. Evans, we're almost fin –"
…painful it was to…
"Just one more push now!"
…try and push a baby out of his…
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
And newborn child's wail joined that of its mothers.
"Congratulations, Ms. Evans, it's a boy! A little on the small side, but that is to be expected, being born premature and all – Ms. Evans? Ms. Evan?! I need some help in here! Someone go get Healer Kendal. Now! She's not responding…"
There was no need to yell…I'm just tired…I'll see my child – my boy, it was a boy – I'll see my boy when I wake up…I'll just close my eyes, only for a minute…
A wizard and a witch rushed into the curtained area, hearing their co-worker's distressed cries. One of them grabbed the paitent's wrist, the other started to wave her wand in a figure eight motion over Lily's motionless body, both shouting out stats to the first witch, who had just placed the now abnormally quiet child in a crib off to the side.
No need to panic, I'm fine, really…I just want to…to sleep, then I'll be able to look into my baby's eye; eyes greener than that Auror who brought me here…here she had the uncontrollable urge to giggle...but first a nap; nothing wrong with that…it's just a…what did the old man call it…its just another great adventure…just…yes, just that…
Rubber bottomed shoes skidded on the tiled floor, their approach muted by the nurses yells for assistance and the wretched moaning of the wards many patients. There was the screech of the plastic rings across a metal bar as what little privacy the curtain offered was ripped away, signifying Healer Caleb Kendal's too late arrival. The mans expression of grim determination melting into one of bitter disappointment as the limp figure of Lily Evans and still forms of the witches and wizard came into view.
Not taking his eyes off of the newly departed mother, he asked "Have you timed it yet?"
The original witch mutely shook her head, while the other two filed out of the area; there was nothing they could do now.
The Healer glanced once more at the dead woman before shaking his head and looking up at the wall mounted clock, frozen at the time she left the world. "Her name?"
"Lily Evans, 21 years of age." Was the medi-witch's quiet reply.
"Very well, T.O.D is three fifteen am, on Monday May the sixteenth, 1980," said the Healer. He watched as the witch wrote the information on a clipboard then prepared to leave. Her voice stopped his departure.
"Sir? What of the child?" Her inquiry was hesitantly voiced…as if it were too loud it would disrupt the rare calm that had befallen this end of the ward.
"Did she name the father?" He did not even turn to face her when he asked this.
"No sir, she said he wouldn't want the boy so it was not necessary for us to know his name." He sighed once again.
"Did she touch the boy? Bond with it?"
"No sir." She felt helpless, she always did after they lost someone and so all she could do was answer the questions that would lead to her following a procedure that always made her feel as if she hadn't done enough..
"Then as a young, unbonded child, he will be easily adopted – make sure that the hospital staff that will be working with him know not to touch him." The Hearler left before she could put together her customary 'Yes, sir.'
Turning to the unnamed boy, she carefully levitated the blanket he was on, and started to chatter, more for her own comfort than his, as she tried to fill the void that death had once again left in its wake.
--
"Hello , is everything going okay here? Do you need anything?"
Molly looked up at the witch who had stuck her head in the room, obviously assigned to checking in on her. Shifting her newest child in her arms, she returned the nurses bright smile.
"No thanks, we're both fine. How is it going on out there? Has all the commotion out there finally died down?" Molly, after having given birth to five boys already, had given up on trying to curb her own curiosity when it became too tiring to try and rein that of her boys.
"Yes, thank Merlin. There was an attack on Diagon Alley yesterday evening," she nodded sympathetically at Molly's gasp, "so many people were injured…and we were understaffed as it was… it was a nightmare, but we've just managed to get it under control." Had her tone not been so full of relief, it would have been easily recognisable as the flighty gossip all woman seemed to be gifted in.
Fully stepping into the room, the witch craned her neck to get a better view of the baby in the woman's arms. "That's little Ronald, right?"
Beaming like the proud parent she was, Molly nodded. "Yes, this is little one is Ron, he's my sixth you know, and he's so much quieter than the others, I swear they wailed my ears off…"
"A bit big though, isn't he?" the nurse commented offhandedly, both women now absorbed in sport of baby watching.
"Yes, he was two months overdue, just wouldn't come out, this one…" Both women chatted lightly while adoring the small child, no more than a few hours old, slept on.
--
"…and now the child is not only motherless, but no one has a clue as to who the father might be… it's said he left her right in the middle of the pregnancy and hasn't been heard from since," said the secretary, passing the story on to the medi-witch who leaned over the reception desk conspiringly.
"Poor boy," the medi-witch cooed compassionately, "but he's unbonded so…he could still be adopted right? I mean, aren't non-bonded babies in demand or something?"
The receptionist nodded, "But the little dear doesn't even have a name, the mother died before she could even so much as look at him, you know. Such a shame, she was a real beauty too," this time it was the medi-witch who made a sound of understanding, "but I swear if it weren't for their eyes being the same, you would have never been able to tell they were related. She was a redhead, like I mean a real red head, like fiery and all that, you know?" She continued at the medi-witch's nod. "And the little boy, he has this cute little tuff of black fuzz on the top of his head, the most adorable little thing he is…" The receptionist would have continued to gush had a firm clearing of a throat not interrupted her. Both women looked up startled, the receptionists murky brown eyes looked up to meet twinkling baby blue.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, sir! What are you doing – uh, I mean what can I do for, no I mean – I'm sorry sir, how may I be of service to you?" The receptionist shrugged sheepishly at her floundering.
His eyes seemed to twinkle all the more at this, "I could not help but overhear," the two hospital workers blush at this admittance, "you both speaking of a woman who I believe I might know," turning to the receptionist, he asked "could you be a dear and check if the woman you mentioned before is indeed named Lily Evans?" A gentle smile sent the receptionist scurrying off to do as he asked.
He turned and smiled at the medi-witch. "I was on my way to pass on my good wishes to Weasley's, when your conversation strongly reminded me an old beloved student of mine, who I hadn't seen since her graduation, she was Head Girl, you know, and was one of the most talented Charms –"
"Yes sir, the departed mother was one Lily Evans." The receptionist had returned while Dumbledore was talking.
"And her son? What will happen to him?" The sorrow laced gaze that the Headmaster had latched onto the receptionist made her falter, and she was unable to form a coherent sentence, as every word combination she thought of seemed as if it would destroy what little hope the older man had.
The medi-witch was also experiencing the same problem, but to a lesser extent, so it was her who answered. "Once he is cleared, he uh, will be taken to, I mean, he will be placed in an uh, an uh, facility that will uh…allow for his um, his adoption…" The medi-witch trailed off weakly, feeling as if she had failed the aged Headmaster.
"I…I see" there was just enough of hesitance in the statement to continue his manipulation perfectly.
"Could I ask you girls – no, no, it would be far too unfair on you, far too unreasonable for young ladies such as yourselves–"
"Please sir, allow us to help!" the receptionist face played out a startling expression of desperation…ah, youth these days…
Smiling down at them, he continued to spin his web "…my dears, it would far too much for an old man like myself to ask of you –"
"No sir, nothing would please us more than knowing we were able to of some assistance…" This time it was the medi-witch who interrupted him.
"Well, if you're both so sure…" just enough reluctance was added onto the last word, and they were both nodding eagerly, perfectly ensnared by his manoeuvring.
"Well, alright then," quickly looking both ways, he leaned over the counter, copying the medi-witch's earlier position, "what I need you to do is of utmost importance and requires your absolute silence on the matter…"
--
"Hello, Arthur"
Arthur looked up, traces of his surprise at the man's visit softened to reveal a genuine, albeit small, smile of greeting.
"Headmaster." The quick and distracted greeting was all he received from Molly, who had immediately gone back to admiring her baby.
Smiling gently the man walked into the room, walking slowly, as to not jar the carefully wrapped bundle in his hands. Carefully balancing the bundle between his arm and his chest so he could draw his wand, Albus promptly transfigured the hospital issue slippers at the end of the bed into a large, and somewhat outdated (but only by a few centuries…), gaudy, yellow arm chairwith a headache inducing pattern that alternated between lime green and neon baby blue. He then smoothly lowered himself into the cushy refines of the piece of …furniture.
By now Arthur had noticed the large pile of blankets in the mans arms, not even blinking at the headmasters eccentricities, too use to them to notice.
"What have you got there, Albus?" The Headmasters smile grew when presented with the unfailing Weasley curiosity that inhabited all the members of such a family.
"I can't keep anything from you, can I Arthur?" he said, his voice holding back a poorly concealed chuckle, while he smiled proudly down at the man.
Arthur frowned, far from impressed by the grandfatherly masquerade the Headmaster insisted on continuing. He decided that a blank stare was his best response.
Albus let his smile fade into a grim line, and the twinkling of his eyes dye until they showed how utterly serious he was, knowing better than to beat around the bush with a man who had five very active, very curious and very clever young boys. Looking down at the bundle he slowly moved the outer most blanket to the side, allowing the male Weasley to glimpse what was inside.
Dumbledore looked up when heard Molly gasp at the child in his arms and stared bemused at Arthurs wide eyed stared focused on the little boy.
"Albus, why would – who does…" Arthur paused to collect his thoughts, "What is the child's name?"
Albus gave them a small smile, before turning his eyes to the boy, and then he addressed Arthur's earlier question.
"He doesn't have a name, nor parents to give him one…" Molly clucked sympathetically for the boy, her own child stirring sleepily in her arms. Arthur's face, however, was one of thinly veiled annoyance.
"No games Albus," he said, "if you have something to say, please, just say it." Arthur would be the first to admit he enjoyed the headmasters company. But he had seemed to have lost the patience that it took to decipher the old coots complicated word puzzles and complex manipulations. Both of the Weasley parents fixed there eyes on their old Headmaster, waiting for the blunt truth, willing to accept nothing else.
"He was born not thirty-five minutes ago, coming into the world as his mother left it. The hospital does not know who the father is." Arthur shot him a sharp look when he said hospital, correctly suspecting that the old man, did indeed, know who the father was. "And according to hospital records, the boy was a still born."
The last statement caught the couple by surprise; both eyed the older man questioningly.
"If the boy is a…stillborn, then why does he breathe?" Arthur asked cautiously, his eyes darting between the headmaster and the obviously movement of the blanket over the baby's chest.
The twinkle came back full force and the old man smiled, leaving Arthur with a feeling of dread, centering in this stomach before rising and taking hold of his heart. Nothing was ever simple when the headmaster looked at someone like that.
"Why, the same reason little Ronald over there is but one, yet according to the hospital records, has a twin…" the twinkle intensified.
"What?!"
"Headmaster, I think I would know if I had a seventh child!" A shocked and staggered Molly responded.
The headmaster just smiled at them.
"Albus, I – We can't – We – another set of twins – I don't – I…" Arthur wavered under Dumbledore's amused gaze and the implications of what he had said.
Becoming serious once more, Albus finally came out and stated the real reason for his visit.
"He needs a home, Arthur. One with love and family and laughter, something he would not receive should someone other than I had found him sooner. He needs to disappear, for if he is found it will be more than a 'little family dispute.'"
He saw the hesitancy and helplessness in the male Weasley's eyes as the man stared at the boy in his arms; that would not do, should they decide to take the boy, their will had to be absolute.
"I am not asking you to treat him any differently than the rest of your children, or even expect to give him up in the future. Should you take the boy, he will be yours, down to flesh, blood, bone and magic…"
The room was silent while the couple thought over the child in his arms. A questioning glance to his wife, and her return nod was the incentive Arthur needed to reach his arms out, silently asking to hold the child; his new son.
Dumbledore had silently gotten up to leave, discreetly turning his chair back in to a nicer (yet more outlandish) pair of ruby and turquoise slippers than they were in their original, dulled state.
At the door, the old man turned back to look at the family, and he watched as the magic rushed to bond the newest addition to the family to his parents and brother; a bond that all babies form with the first skin contact they have, and a simple touch that will determine the child's looks, and familial bonds for the rest of the child's stay on this plane.
Albus quietly opened the door before walking out and slowly shutting it behind him, mentally giving his best wishes to the happy (and now quite large) family. 'I love magical adoption; so much more final than the muggle alternative…'
And with that final thought, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, whistled merrily for the first time since Tom Riddle had openly declared war on the wizarding world.