Hi, just a short little piece about Molly Weasley and how she feels just after Dumbledore's death, when she and Arthur get called up at the castle for Bill's injury. It involves some deep, at times painful understanding of her position in the war and her family's, particularly Ron's and Ginny's in relation to Harry's pivotal role in the coming upraisal and what, she fears, may be a last stand for her family's safety and peace. It's about how she, as a mother, is at times irrational in her thinking and wants nothing more than to protect her children from harm, only to realise that they are not her children any more, but youngsters on the verge of adulthood and that she can't shield them as she used to; the realisation does not come without pain as she struggles with herself to understand this turn of events, accept them and move on. R&R!
The tall sturdy oak doors opened and were quickly shut, their numerous bolts banging neatly into place, the noise carrying in the enormous hall of the castle.
Outside, the night sat unnaturally still, the air acrid with smoke and unmistakeable stillness that comes after a battle, drenched in stillness. The castle itself seemed bereft, sombre and almost as though the walls were licking their wounds, dejected; curses and hexes alike had damaged the Entrance Hall and probably beyond, if the debris of broken glass, lumps of stone and crushed slate were anything to go by. The walls were littered with deep gouges, no doubt the result of hexes, and in some places even large holes that didn't quite go all the way through, creating large niches in the battered ancient walls – the handiwork of curses.
The palpitations in her chest increased as she and Arthur rushed to the hospital wing, once more called in to see one of their injured sons.
The hospital wing was crowded and littered with injured students, the worst ones lying prone on beds, and volunteers who tried to do their best to help in any way they could. She drew in a strangled breath and almost choked; her eldest lay there, in one of those beds, possibly dying ...
In her mind's eye she stood with her husband and members of the Order, clutching at Bill's small hand. The rain drenched them from the skies, as it persistently pattered around the graveyard, and the fog coiling from the ground enshrouded them in a quiet soliloquy, the wizard speaking expressing how they would be terribly missed and that they had died heroes, for the cause, evermore together till the end. Bill alternated between sobbing and trying to comfort his mother as best as a boy of three could. She convulsively covered his ears before the caskets thudded in their parallel holes, dug deep, effectively preventing him from hearing that terrible sound of finality, though he probably wouldn't understand just yet. When the twin caskets hit the ground, she shuddered and cried on Arthur's shoulder, mourning their souls and praying that they found peace in the afterlife, if such a thing existed.
Now almost twenty-one years later, in a different part of the country, Molly Adelaide Prewett-Weasley heard that unmistakeable sound again, though they had been reassured that he wasn't dead.
She heard Fleur trailing behind them, asking something, but this time her unmistakeable French accent failed to get on her nerves, already stretched at breaking-point.
Molly could see a small group of familiar people congregated around one of the beds towards the farther end of the hospital wing, and recognised a pair of redheads as her own. There on the bed, lying unconscious, his once handsome face now hideously disfigured by deep, red gashes brought out in sharp contrast by the paleness of his complexion under the freckles...
She let out a pained wail, and focused solely on her little boy, her step heavy with urgency as she darted past Professor McGonagall .
"Oh, Bill!"
She bent over her son and pressed her lips to his bloody forehead. Somewhere close to her, she heard Arthur speak, his voice shaken and weak.
"You said Greyback attacked him?"
Lupin, perhaps someone else replied, but since she wasn't really paying much attention and they spoke in a low voice, she didn't hear the reply. She was dabbing gently Bill's wounds with the ointment Madame Pomfrey gave her.
Molly forced herself to pay attention to what Lupin was saying. He had a theory that was both relieving and heart-breaking at the same time. Since it wasn't a full moon night and Greyback hadn't transformed, Lupin didn't think Bill would become a full-fledged werewolf, but the gouges on his handsome face were cursed wounds, and as such he might display some wolfish traits.
Molly's heart felt a stab of sorrow, as though it, too, had been gouged and ripped apart by that savage monster. Her voice came out shaky from her sobs and sadness when she spoke.
"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks...it's not r-really important...but he was a very handsome little b-boy ... always very handsome ... and he was g-going to be married!"
The thought itself brought a fresh wave of pain, until a feral growl came from the opposite side of the bed, directly in front of her. It seemed that Fleur had found her high-handed self in spite of this dark night, and she didn't look as though she could be made to back down. Her beautiful, deceptive face, which had been terrified when she first entered the hospital wing, was now twisted into a dark, dangerous scowl, as she menacingly glared at her, Bill lying prone between them.
"And what do you mean by zat?"
"What do you mean 'e was going to be married?"
Molly was at a loss for words, literally stunned into silence. She tried to speak, though her fiery temper seemed to have abandoned her.
"Well – only that - '
"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" demanded Fleur, working herself up into a stupendous rage. "You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"
Molly felt ashamed of what she insinuated, and it was all getting out of hand so quickly, and her precious handsome boy's life had been drastically changed, he was one of this war's victims too now, just like her older twin brothers, and if anything happened to any more of her family she couldn't stand it for heart-break. She attempted to clarify things, even though deep down she felt like screaming and shouting at Fleur and everyone else would improve things immensely.
"No, that's not what I - '
"Because 'e will!"
As Molly watched, Fleur drew herself up to her full height and threw back her long silver hair, a clear sign of her fury. "it wold take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!"
Oh, dear, Molly thought, this was not what she meant at all when she said that he was going to be married – in fact she didn't know what she meant exactly or why she said it, but what Fleur was insinuating was not true, and dislike her or not, Molly had to put her to rights, for Bill's sake.
"Well, yes, I'm sure, but I thought perhaps – given how he – how he ... ' It was then that she couldn't bring herself to carry own, and she was suddenly tired of this, tired of the rivalry between mother and fiancé, tired of the rift between them and her perfect Percy, and the twins making out like war was something fun and the stupid Order interfering with their lives as well as the blasted Death Eaters running amok killing this and that – she just wanted her family to be safe and peace!
Fleur was carrying on with her tirade, and Molly had to admit that she felt a small grudging admiration for this young woman, who was so ready to defend her beloved future husband, even from his own mother.
" You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps you 'oped?" Fleur's nostrils flared.
"What do I care 'ow 'e looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!" she added fiercely, stomping round to Molly's side and snatching the ointment out of her nerveless fingers. Molly fell back against her husband and watched quietly as Fleur tenderly dabbed Bill's wounds, coming to understand a great deal many things about this girl, whom she had previously thought as vain and self-centered and air-headed, not at all suitable to take care of her darling Bill.
She analysed the way Fleur fired up and went about defending their love to each other and their wedding plans remainining un-altered despite this tragedy. She scrutinised carefully the way Fleur's hands seemed to be made of butterfly's wings as they danced elusively and lightly, carefully dabbing the foul-smelling thick ointment on Bill's ruined face. It was then that she realised that her dear Bill was in good hands, indeed in better hands than she could hope for, or had imagined, she thought guiltily; this silly rivalry must stop, for both of their happiness' sake.
"Our great auntie Muriel," she said after a lengthy pause, "has a very beautiful tiara – goblin-made – which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair."
Fleur drew herself up stiffly. "Thank you, I am sure zat will be lovely."
Before they knew what they were about, both women were crying loudly and hugging each other as though they had been thick as thieves all these past months, patting each other's backs and wagging an index finger in each other's faces, all the while wailing loudly - "Never again, no, no, never again." Molly looked around them, still hugging Fleur and saw Ron, Harry, Ginny and Hermione sharing startled looks. She regarded them fondly for a split second. How little they knew about the adults' world!
Then she sobered and stared at them carefully.
Ron stood, taller than ever, up to his fullest height, which was impressive per se, and shared a swift, silent communication with Harry and Hermione and Ginny.
She had seen them do it plenty of times of course, these past six years, during holidays when they were celebrating together or Harry and Hermione were staying with them at The Burrow; she had come to understand that this was one of their ways of communicating silently because they were such close friends.
Molly looked into Harry's eyes and felt frightened at what she saw.
Resolve.
Fleur was absently patting her back and gulping down the last of her sobs and she could hear Tonks and Lupin arguing somewhere in the background – they must be at it again, Tonks wanting him and Remus drawing away – but she didn't join their argument just yet.
Instead, she stood a little away from the group, watching the four youngsters.
She froze.
She used to have been incapable of thinking that Harry could display such dark, characteristically adult emotions, because she always looked upon him as a child, and now that she was faced with the unthinkable, she felt once more at a loss for words and deeply disturbed.
Looking into his face properly, for the first time in a few years, she recognised the look he wore as his father's, when he was on a mission for the Order. Both stood tall and proud and resolved to carry out their mission, almost giving off a tangible aura of power. Molly hurriedly drew her eyes away from what she saw, and came face to face with fear once again.
Ron wore a very similar look upon his face too, closely mirrored by Hermione and, she silently gasped, Ginny.
What was she to do?
She knew, she knew deep down, could feel it in her bones, that they were plotting something, as they so often did. Something that would not doubt endanger them all, put them right in front of the enemy lines, no less! Her heart turned to ice at the mere thought. She had to stop them! But her feet refused to carry her closer to them, and her mouth refused to work; no sounds came out.
When did this happen? She asked herself, feverishly looking into her memory for any clues, any signs that would indicate what she witnessing, and could find none. When did her precious children stop being just that, and grew up into adulthood? Don't be a silly goose, Molly, she chastised herself, they won't be full-fledged adults until they are of legal age! But she didn't sound very convincing to her own ears. She knew full well that one did not need be seventeen years old to be considered an adult – the youngsters were proof of that. But how could she prevent something bad from happening?
As she looked into Harry's face, a myriad of emotions and thoughts ran haphazardly over her, battering her with hard hits till she felt like she could sink into the floor at any second. He will go after them, an insidious dark voice whispered in her ear, as she watched, frozenly at what was unfolding before her terrified eyes. He will attempt to track them then hunt them down like the rabid dogs they are and bring fair justice unto them, and thus dragging down with him both Ron and Ginny.
I cannot allow that!
My beautiful babies, what did they ever do to be brought into the thick of this? Let them stay innocent of all wrong-doing and blind to all evil sights, let them play together in the back yard like they used to when they were young, zooming on Charlie's and Percy's toy broomsticks ad blowing bubbles. I don't want them to be hurt like my poor Bill, like Gideon and Sebastian. I don't want them dead! She drew accusing eyes towards James Potter's son, so very like him, so very striking and handsome and powerful, feeling deep resentment. It was all his fault! He dragged them into this!
Molly gasped silently, horrified.
Oh, no! How could I think something like that? It's Harry, Ron's best friend! I could never think of Harry like this! He's so innocent, so pure, so good for my Ronnie, why, if I were to separate them it would break their hearts! These past few years have been a blessing for Ron, who always stood in his brothers' shadow; Harry gave him the tools and chance with which he could shine in his own right! And Hermione too, that dear girl, always looking out for them and their studies.
I can't separate them. I can't do that to Ron, who loves Harry so very much, and Hermione, though I suspect the love there isn't so platonic. Why, Harry might not be my own son – but he's as good as! She thought fiercely.
This brought over her a sense of déjà vu, and she remembered shouting at Sirius in that kitched at his parents' house that night, before the trio's fifth year and Ginny's fourth – the twins' last at Hogwarts – and she said those exact same words when Sirius shouted that Harry wasn't her son.
He's as good as, she shouted back.
And it was true, a strong emotion welling up in her heart to the brim, making her tired eyes sting once again. What a delight he was, so polite, so shy, so modest and brilliant and funny and sweet! A better friend for Ron she couldn't have found. A sweet vulnerability in his frame – those wretched Muggles! - belied his strong temperament, shining in his mother's eyes and father's smile. A paradox and contradiction through and through. He should have by right been cocky, arrogant and full of himself, the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived spreading far and wide across the nation as it did.
But he wasn't, oh no. He was Lily's and James' son through and through. Instead of cocky, at times he almost looked as though he lacked all self-confidence – wretched Muggles! - where he might have acted wit arrogance he was always so modest and so private about his accomplishments and his thoughts, landing himself into life-threatening trouble, pulling unbelievable stunts – those dragons in that First Task! - but remainining, essentially, Harry.
How could she not love him? He was as wonderful as they came, he burrowed into her heart the minute she saw him, standing alone and looking nervous on that Muggle platform, for his first year at school. No wonder Ginny chose him. Molly looked closely into herself and saw no begrudge or unhappiness at the thought of the only daughter being with her youngest son's best friend. Again, she couldn't have hoped for a better person – for Ron and Ginny. Harry was family. And families always stuck together through thick and thin, no matter what, int times of danger, even though Percy seemed to have conveniently forgotten it. So did she, for a moment there.
It's the stress, Molly thought to herself, drawing a tired sigh. It's the stress this bloody war puts upon us and Bill's accident.
Before she drew closer to Arthur, Tonks and Lupin, she looked at the four child – young adults one last time.
They were so close, she thought fondly, though Ron, Harry and Hermione were probably closer in that they had been through a great deal many more things as a trio before Ginny came into the picture as Harry's girlfriend.
In each one of them Molly saw something wonderful and familiar and heart-rending, that brought tears to her eyes.
She saw her older brothers Gideon and Fabian once more, reflecting to her through the youngsters standing closely, away from the group around Bill's bed. She saw Gideon's stubborn pride in Ron and Ginny, and Fabian's cleverness in Hermione; their courage and will to fight in Harry's bright green eyes, shining with deep, untold secrets and sorrows.
She smiled once more.
She fancied that her older twin brothers were living once again, joined at the hip, as thick as a pair of thieves could ever be, strong in their outlook in life and their beliefs, their will to fight in this war, in their unrelenting support of each other through thick and thin as true brothers, finally dying together, both proud to have helped the cause. Molly tightened her hands into balled fists. This time she would help too. This time Gideon and Fabian, in the form of her youngest children and their two wonderful friends would not be brought down, though she suspected Harry would play a monumental role in their war. This time, they would see the bright dawn as it shined with hope upon tomorrow, their future.
With a lighter heart, Molly wiped her tears hastily and composed herself before turning and joining the quarreling not-quite-yet lovers, along with her husband.
"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus." Molly said over Fleur's shoulder – my daughter-in-.law, she thought affectionately – as she patted her on the back.
She reflected that although something tragic had happened that night that shook them all to the very core of their beings, Dumbledore's death brought people together in a way that was unexpected but very much welcomed.
How strange that the way mortals' lives intertwined with each other was so similar to her knitting.
P.S: please let me kow what you think of this, I see this as one of many pieces to follow about the characters' points of view and feelings immediately after Dumbledore's death. Any requests as to who you want to read about next?? Let me know !! Lady Zee x x