A/N: Hi! This is my entry for the Women's football (Round 1.2) event of the Hogwarts Olympics at HPFC. I have a lot of trouble with people who are mentioned a lot in the books, and this ended up only having a slight Molly-Arthur theme, but I hope you like it! (And noooo, I didn't have the brains to invent Harry Potter, so I don't own it. Everything belongs to Jo Rowling)
Lucy had heard the stories about the war. And the deaths. But at age 7, she didn't really know what death was. Or how it hurt people.
She didn't understand why her Grandma Weasley looked so sad when she thought. Or what Uncle George was like before the war. But she was always curious. But Lucy would never ask. No one would. No one dared.
That was, until she found the pensive.
It was on her father's desk. She had been getting a pen when she saw the silver bowl. It had been Dumbledore's, she had been told. The carvings, perfectly detailed, intrigued her. Lucy had always been curious. And she was now. So she reached her arm inside the shimmering silver water, and was sucked down.
Lucy landed on her feet. She was in the great hall of Hogwarts. It looked just like the pictures in her picture book. Except the tables were moved aside, and in their place were bodies. Lucy looked franticly around.
There was Aunt Hermione, younger, her bushy hair the same as ever. Her arm rested against Ginny's shoulder, tears streaming down both of their faces. Lucy tried to touch Hermione, but her arm passed right through.
She turned her head and looked around her. Her family, all her uncles and aunts and grandparents clustered around something. Someone. Lucy walked closer to get a better view. It was Uncle George, but with a ear. Fred. Lucy had never seen her family look so sad. And she decided it was time to go. She had seen enough. The last thing she saw as the scene changed before her was her grandmother hugging her grandfather.
The next scene was better. Fred and George laughed together identically in the corner of the burrow, young and innocent, about 4 years younger than Lucy was herself. Her grandmother sat in a chair in the living room, holding a newborn Ginny, young Ron at her 's grandfather Arthur held his arm around Molly, gazing at his new daughter proudly. Lucy smiled and sat down in one of the chairs. She liked this memory.
The pensive then whisked her away, to a memory much earlier. Lucy was staring at a couple on their wedding day. Her grandmother Molly, young and proud, red hair standing out against white. Her grandfather, his arms around his bride, smiling for a camera that wasn't there. Lucy sat down in one of the seats. She liked watching.
When her grandparents finally kissed, Lucy realized it was worth it. All those memories, made her family, and the bonds between them stronger.