December 1998
An impressively ramshackle house stood in a large field a little way outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The house was several stories tall, with five chimneys happily puffing out billowing clouds of gray smoke. The front yard, usually the home to several fat brown chickens, was covered in an even blanket of frost. The chickens were huddled together in a snuggly heap in their chicken coop on the side of the house, directly under the large kitchen window. Through the window a plump, red-haired, woman could be seen, washing vegetables and humming along to the radio by the sink. Through her humming, the voice of Celestina Warbeck could be heard singing A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.
With a flick of her wrist, the dishes in the other half of the sink began washing themselves. Molly tucked her wand back into the front pocket of her flowered apron and continued her quest to have the cleanest carrots and potatoes. It was a very special occasion, everything had to be perfect. Everything that had occurred in May...the horror and the loss, would give way to a perfect Christmas. Molly would make sure of it.
It was not easy coming home after the battle. The Burrow was standing tall and proud, despite its crookedness. The same could not be said for the Weasleys, especially Molly. Upon entering the home, no one could help but notice that every spoon on the large, grandfather clock, was pointing to "home". Except Fred's. Molly didn't leave her bedroom for a week after that and Arthur had removed Fred's spoon from the clock. No one wanted to see it pointing to "mortal peril" whenever they walked past it.
It had been almost eight months since then, and Molly was still sensitive at times. Despite being one the strongest and fiercest of the Weasleys, there can be no pain more piercing than the loss of a child. Molly would be her chipper self one moment and the next be overcome with grief from the world's harsh reminders that she now had six children, instead of seven. Anything could set her off. Once she found the shell of an exploding snap inside one of her shoes. Another time it was a childhood drawing of Fred's tucked inside one of her recipe books. Most recently, she had been knitting an annual Christmas sweater for George, only to realize she had been knitting a golden "F" on the front the entire time. In most of these cases, she would attempt to hide her pain by running out of the room. Arthur would sit and hold her, providing comfort despite his own endless grief.
As time ran rapidly toward Christmas, Molly put on a brave face and planned an extravagant dinner. The biggest turkey they could find, stuffed to the brim with roasted chestnut and date stuffing, Brussels sprouts, parsnips, Molly's famous roasted potatoes, homemade cranberry sauce, and of course treacle tart. Typically, as in every year for the past twenty years, Molly had made plum pudding for Christmas. It was Fred's favorite. At Arthur's gentle request, and reminder that it was Harry's favorite, Molly had chosen to make tart instead.
The parsnips and potatoes were just about washed when Harry and Ron came in from the backyard, pink-cheeked from the cold, and sat at the kitchen table.
"You're done already?" Molly asked as she wiped her hands on her apron. She handed each boy a steaming cup of hot cocoa.
"Yup. All the gnomes are gone." Ron lied. Molly could tell by the way his nose twitched and the way Harry was suddenly fascinated by the look of his cocoa, instead of meeting her eye. Molly looked out the window to see several gnomes running through the snow, back towards the house. As if on cue, Ron and Harry busied themselves with taking a long sip of cocoa, avoided her questioning glare. She put her hands on her hips, warning Ron that if he didn't explain himself soon…
"We threw them really far, Mum. But they land in the snow unharmed and come running back" Ron confessed.
"It's true Mrs. Weasley. Plus...we got cold." Harry chimed in.
"Sure." Molly rolled her eyes but smiled at these two boys of her's. They were sweet and brave, but always eager to get out of doing hard work. "Well, you better get rid of them before Hermione arrives this evening. She'll throw a right fit if she sees how they're dealt with. I expect you to try again after you finish your cocoa."
Arthur approached Molly in the kitchen. She was rolling out dough for the tart crust when he surprised her with a kiss on the cheek.
"What's that for?" She giggled.
Arthur looked serious and pulled a small box out of his pocket. "Molls, I'm a bit nervous to give you your Christmas gift this year."
"Why?"
He sighed. "It's going to make you cry."
"Is it another rubber duck?" She snarked.
Arthur laughed nervously. "No…"
"Well give it me you silly man! I'm very busy!"
He handed it over. She opened the box and looked up at her husband with tears in her eyes. "It's beautiful...I'll put it on right now."
"I'll help you." Arthur clasped the necklace around Molly's neck. She looked down at it and smiled. Fred's spoon, attached to a silver chain, smiled back up at her. She placed her hand over it and closed her eyes.
"He's perfect."
Back outside, Harry and Ron got back to work. Crouching in the bushes, the boys found several small, leathery, potato-like creatures, huddling in fear. The trick of catching one was to grab it by the feet and hold it upside down, making sure to avoid its razor sharp teeth. Then all there was to do was swing and throw.
After a while of throwing, Harry cleared his throat.
"What are we going to do, Ron?" He asked, seriously.
"Thow more gnomes." Came Ron's blunt reply.
"You know what I mean. The war is over, it's been over for months and all we've done is sit around, play exploding snap, and eat chocolate frogs."
"Yeah? But we're on chocolate frog cards now. We deserve a break."
"I know, but we have to get back to the real world someday. Neither of us wants to go back to school like Hermione."
"Well, I'm certainly not going to miss History of Magic, if that's what you're asking me."
Harry sighed. "I need some advice."
"Ask a portrait of Dumbledore."
"Ron, stop." Ron stopped, mid-swing and turned to Harry, annoyed. "You're my best mate," Harry said quietly. Ron's irritated face softened for a moment. "Dumbledore was great with doling out grand advice on "how to be a hero" and "my destiny" but I don't need that right now, I need regular advice."
"So you want job advice? Hell if I know, Harry! I don't even know my own situation. Hermione...I love her, but I can't go back to school. Maybe I'll help George at the joke shop...besides, don't you have about a billion galleons at Gringotts? What do you need to work for? Take a break, mate. Play some chess, eat some food, take Ginny on an actual date for once-" Harry's eyebrows flew up his forehead in surprise. Ron laughed. "Yeah, she told me you went flying together in the backyard. That doesn't count as a date, Harry. Believe me, I don't understand what qualifies either, ask Hermione. She's always quick to tell me."
It was quiet for a while, the sounds around them were the soft thumps of the gnomes hitting the snowy ground, and their bitter mumbles, as they ran off.
Finally, it was Ron's turn to clear his throat in order to start some awkward conversation.
"Er-Harry?"
"Yeah?"
Ron dropped the gnome he had been holding (it scurried off) and scratched the back of his head. "So, I know you like keeping up with Grimmauld Place, but you're here at the Burrow almost every day...wouldn't it be easier...you know...just lived here?"
Harry was astonished, he felt cold tears begin to prick the corners of his eyes. Like the good friend Harry knew him to be, Ron looked away, pretending to not notice Harry's tears. "I talked to my mum about it. She was thrilled actually. And I cleaned out the spare room for you, and we put up an extra hook in the broom-shed for your new Firebolt, and-" Ron's speech was interrupted by a fierce hug.
"Thank you."
"No, problem, mate." Ron's voice was even, but Harry knew, despite not being able to see them, that Ron's ears must be a shade of bright red.
The Weasley kitchen was cramped but cozy. Small, glittery, lights floated around the room, creating a perfectly Christmastime glow. The air was enchantingly thick with the smell of rosemary and fresh-baked bread. Everyone was gathered around the long, wooden table. To Molly's delight, everyone was wearing a Weasley sweater, including Fleur who looked less than comfortable in the itchy wool garment but was too grateful for the gesture to complain.
Charlie and Arthur were talking animatedly about the muggle world near the end of the table. Charlie had been working with dragons in America for the past couple of months.
"You mean, instead of going to the bank all the time, they just go to a little box? An ATV?"
Charlie laughed, "An ATM, Dad. But yeah, they have them all over America!"
Fleur shifted in her seat, fighting the urge to scratch.
"You'll get used to it." Bill smiled.
Fleur grabbed his hand. "Merci, my love."
In the middle of the table, George was grilling Percy on what new joke-shop items might be considered illegal.
"How could our snake neck-tie be considered illegal?!"
"Did you use dark magic to make it?"
"...not dark magic. Gray area magic."
Percy laughed. "Definitely illegal. But I'd happily defend you in wizard court."
"Thanks, mate."
On the other side, Ron and Hermione were on the brink of an argument.
"Ginny told me you and Harry were throwing around innocent gnomes all day!"
Ron glared at Ginny from across the table. She smiled mischievously.
"You know what, Hermione? If you care so much about "innocent" creatures, how can you be eating turkey right now? Hmmm?" He thought he had won.
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "You're right, Ron! I should be a vegetarian!" Ron shook his head in disbelief.
Molly sat at the head of the table, proud of the bounty laid before her. Her eyes crinkled with joyful tears.
Once everyone had finished eating, Molly brought out the treacle tart. She laid the first, enormous, slice in front of Harry. Molly gave Arthur a look and he clinked his glass with the back of his knife. Everyone quieted down quickly.
Molly smiled. "Harry has decided to move into the Burrow and we couldn't be happier. We love you so much and are overjoyed that you'd like to be in our family. To Harry!"
Everyone raised their glass and shouted in unison, "To Harry!"
Harry fought back tears as Molly passed around tart to everyone. Looking around the room he saw so much kindness and joy. He touched the knitted golden snitch on his sweater and felt his heart soared with happiness.
Hermione had been correct all those years ago in saying that friendship and bravery were more important than books and cleverness. But Harry could think of something more important than all those things combined.
Family.