Disclaimer: I am just a visitor in JKR's world.
I don't know where this idea came from. I just remembered the conversation Sirius had with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in Goblet of Fire, about how frantic things were during the first war, how many the Death Eaters were, and under what terror people lived. And I suddenly decided to give one of my most beloved characters her fair share of doubt and anguish.
The Black-Listed One
April 1977…
Could she do it? Should she do it?
Molly Weasley shivered, suddenly cold in the nice April day. The hand holding the sheet of parchment shook and she tossed it on the table. No, this was madness. These days, people saw Death Eaters everywhere. The Ministry was literally buried under reports about suspected dark wizards, many of them just due to hysterical fear. Was Molly hysterical? The man never did anything to her. Merlin, she barely knew him! Fabian always spoke highly of him. His sister was one of the most promising young Aurors, according to both Fabian and Gideon. That hardly spelled a Death Eater, right?
And yet, she could not shake off the feeling that not everything with Philippe Saint Claire was as innocent as she tried to convince herself.
It had started two days ago, in a nice warm evening…
Two days ago…
Fabian was the only person who was able to throw party in the middle of a war. Or at least, the only one Molly knew.
She could hear the music and the voices on the other side of the front door. No wonder that no one had heard her knock – they were so loud. She really should have Firecalled beforehand, instead of Apparating without warning. But how could she have anticipated the uproar that would greet her? Then again, it was Fabian. Of course she should have. Instead of living as quiet life as possible, as all sensible people did, Fabian and Gideon just had to have it the most inappropriate, obnoxious, loud way as possible. They had to.
The din became louder, there was an explosion of laughter, followed by a storm of applause. Molly was just on the way of Apparating back home and contacting Fabian the next day, when the front door suddenly opened and Gideon peeked at her.
"Hi, Molly. Come on, come on!"
Before she could say something, he had grabbed her by the hand and led her to Fabian's living room. Now, it was all quiet, except for the person who was playing the guitar inside. Molly could not help but notice that he was quite skilled.
Furniture was quite lacking in Fabian's home, but the guests had solved the problem by magicking armchairs and sofas for themselves and they were making good use of them, lounging and sprawling, as if they were home. On the central sofa Fabian was talking to his girlfriend, Dorcas Meadows. Near the empty fireplace sat Gideon's best friend Caradoc Dearborn an the twins' fellow Auror Sylvie Lupin. Her husband Raymond was listening to something that Caradoc's girlfriend, Maura Lewis, was saying animatedly.
"Hey, Fabe, look who I brought!" Gideon announced.
Fabian stood up. "Hello, Molly," he said, surprised. "Is something the matter?"
She shook her head. She had wanted to discuss their mother's forthcoming birthday with them, but it would have to wait. "No, no, all is okay."
He visibly relaxed. "Welcome, then."
Everyone greeted her. She smiled and greeted them back.
Leading her through the room, Gideon said, "The only one you don't know is the one who's been playing the guitar so masterfully. That's Sylvie's brother. Fabian's friend from Paris. His name is Philippe Saint Claire."
Philippe stood up for the introduction. "Molly, this is Philippe," Gideon said. "Philippe, meet my sister, Molly Weasley."
"Hello, Molly," Philippe said and held out his hand.
"Good evening, Philippe," she answered, looking at his face. She knew that he and Sylvie Lupin were not only siblings, but twins, but she would have never guessed it. They looked nothing alike. Sylvie was small and red-haired, not unlike Molly herself, but her most distinguishing feature was the air of vitality around her. She was short, but strong and athletic. Vibrant. Philippe was much taller than her, lanky and somewhat languid. His dark face and even his black hair looked almost washed-out, although he was not unattractive. He looked older than his sister. And then, shocked, Molly noticed his hand. His fingers were visibly deformed, his knuckles red and bloated, as if full of water, the skin around them yellowish.
She recoiled in horror. A moment later, she took hold of herself and shook the hand that Philippe had started to withdraw. His face was devoid of any expression. He did not even look insulted, but he had undeniably seen her reaction. Molly quickly scanned the rest of the group. No one seemed to have noticed her impulsive gesture – no one but Sylvie. Molly had no doubt what the Frenchwoman's eyes conveyed: hatred, bitter and helpless hatred.
"Until now, I've been playing the guests' favourite songs," Philippe said, interrupting the silence. "Molly, do you have a favourite song?"
"I think not," she said – she felt so embarrassed that she couldn't think clearly. The realization how she had humiliated him made her numb and that only made things worse. She knew it but she was helpless.
"So you won't order a song?" Philippe asked.
She shook her head.
Smiling slightly, he sat back on the sofa.
"If no one else has any wishes, Philippe, would you play my other favourite song, "Fire Magic'?" Maura asked.
"All right," he said, smiling. "But only if you sing along, Maura!"
"You have it!" Maura cried. "We're all singing, right?"
"Of course," Caradoc agreed, Philippe started playing the chorus and they all sang.
A few minutes later, the deliverance guy knocked on the door bringing their dinner. Of course, Fabian couldn't cook for his guests and of course, he'd rather order food from outside than asking his mother or even Molly for help. Molly did not approve of such… err, modern hosting, but her brothers had adopted it from their friends and seemed content enough with it. And it was tasty.
"Hey," Fabian asked, "how did you find the time to come here alone? Where are the boys?"
Molly smiled. "They are with Arthur," she said. "Truly, I needed a little rest. I mean, they are all darlings, but – "
"But they are stillboys," Dorcas said, laughing. "How many of them are there, ah Molly? I'm afraid I lost count."
"Three," Molly said. "Three boys. I hope the next one is a girl, but I don't dare assume anything."
"Good thing that you don't," Raymond Lupin assured her. "It's safer this way. I, for myself, was pretty sure that this time, I'd have a girl. Instead, I got a girl and a boy. I don't know why I was so surprised."
"I don't know either," his brother in-law dead-panned. "I mean, Sylvie really should have warned you. In our family, there are as many twins as single births. All thanks to my Grandmother. She introduced it to the family."
Raymond grinned. "I've always liked your Grandmother. In her prime, she must have been a stunner. Anyway, it's a double care with twins."
"We should be eternally grateful to your mother," Sylvie agreed. "Without my mother in-law, I'm lost," she explained to the others.
The sad thing is that it's true, Molly thought. The woman made it sound like a joke, but the truth was that she had foisted her children on her in-laws, so she could go back to work. To be a glorious Auror. And not so glorious a mother. Molly had been terrified to learn, three months ago, that Sylvie had left her six-week-old twins to her mother in-law and gone back to office. The threat of this creature, this You-Know-Who, could not excuse such a choice. For every mother, the real battle was to take care of her kids. Or it should be. Lack of money couldn't be a reason either. The Weasley family did not have much either, but Molly wouldn't leave her children in order to earn money and buy them playthings. No, she could find no excuse for Sylvie Lupin.
"You should be careful," Dorcas said over her glass of Firewhiskey, face suddenly become serious. "All of you. Sylvie and Philippe, and you two. You know that the Death Eaters take a special interest in twins."
"Interest?" Molly repeated. She did not understand. "What interest?"
"Examinations," Gideon said. "How we work, how our bodies function and react to this and that."
Now she understood and wished that she had not. Tortures, he means. Experiments. When is it going to end? Oh Merlin, when?
"I hear that they had won the werewolves on their side," Caradoc said gravely. The jovial mood had melted down, but that was a common thing these days. Beneath the laughter, beneath every conversation lay the fear. The terrible danger.
"I heard that, too, and I think it's true." Raymond's face had gone pale. There was something strange in his voice, something that made Molly look at him sharply. "After all, we had it coming long ago, didn't we?"
The implication in his words hit home. Everyone looked at him, stunned. No, not everyone. Sylvie and Philippe did not look surprised in the least.
"Are you saying that we are the ones to blame for these – these creatures' betrayal?" Maura finally asked.
"That's exactly what I'msaying."
A long silence followed and Molly suddenly understood what had made the authorities remove Raymond from his post at St. Mungo's. He had treated a Death Eater and now he expressed such outrageous opinions – no wonder that people did not want him there.
"Come on," Raymond went on, "name one thing that we gave them to be loyal to. Maura? Fabe? Come on, I'm sure you can think of something. Or should I help you? Resentment. Avoidance. Fear. Humiliation. All these good reasons for them to love us. Did I miss something?"
"You're making it sound so simple," Gideon said.
"It is this simple. We've been arrogant and snobbish for too long and now we're paying the price of our self-righteousness."
"Self-righteousness!" Molly could not refrain any longer. "I don't want someone around my children who can eat them! Is that self-righteousness?"
"I think that the fear imparted in you prevents you from being just."
Dorcas stared in her glass. She stared at it for so long that Molly wondered what she might be seeing there.
"Raymond does have a point," she finally said. "I cannot deny that. But – "
"But what?" Philippe's face was still smooth, but there was an angry fire in his dark eyes. Suddenly, he no longer looked washed-out. He seemed to be possessed of some strange energy – suppressive energy. Dark energy. "That's what you people do. And you do not even realize it." He raised a hand to stifle the uproar that followed his statement. "Do not protest. It is as I say. You reject others without realizing it. Maybe not you here. But people like you."
"If you mean purebloods," Dorcas started angrily, "let me tell you something, Mr I Know Best. I am a Muggleborn myself and – "
"I don't mean Muggleborns," he interjected. "I mean healthy, normal people. All of you know about my disease? I should think so. After all, it's quite obvious."
Yes, Molly thought. She remembered having read in the newspapers that the pureblooded French family, famous for producing dueling champions, had been infected with some sort of strange disease – a bleeding that would not stop. She had not realized that Philippe had it. Maybe that was the explanation for his deformed hands? But his sister certainly didn't suffer any such thing – Molly had seen her suffer some injuries and she had always stopped bleeding pretty fast.
A new silence filled the room. "About that, Philippe," Maura finally said, "I only know that with your broken hands, you make more music than I, or any of us, with hands that are whole."
He nodded in acknowledgement.
"And yet, wizards and witches hate me and avoid me, for I am different than them and they fear me for that. I constantly remind them that none of them are nearly as perfect as they like to think they are, that we have vulnerabilities, too, just like Muggles, that there are some diseases that magic cannot heal – and that scares the hell out of them." For a moment, he held Sylvie's eyes and it was like they were back to Beauxbatons, where they had learned at first-hand how enormous human capacity for cruelty could be. Then, he slowly smiled. It was not a happy smile. "But my family loves me and protects me and they are quite influential. That's why I am tolerated. Not liked, but tolerated anyway. Not everyone who has problems is this lucky. And it's easy to win people who had been treated poorly. The lure of tolerance, of acceptance and – retribution is too great. For myself, I cannot say whether I would have resisted the temptation if I were not Philippe Saint Claire."
"But you are Philippe Saint Claire," Fabian said.
"That's right. Let's talk no more about that."
"Let's talk no more."
Again, this silence. Heavy. Full of tension. Now Molly wished that she had not come at all.
She had taken the quill and now held it over the parchment. It was still blank. She had not written anything. Really, what could she write? For what reason should she send the Aurors after him? Because she had seen him scolding his sister's six-year-old son quite harshly in Diagon-Alley yesterday? Or because he claimed that poor treatment led to poor results? Or because he felt not accepted but merely tolerated because of an affliction that was completely out of his control? But the next moment Philippe Saint Claire looked dangerous to her, because he was trying to find excuse for people who had chosen the wrong side. The murdering side. The people who put everyone at risk. Her family. Her children. Molly had seen so many people – ones she had thought she knew – make the wrong choice, placing themselves above things like humanity and sympathy. She did not know what to make out of this one. She just felt within herself that he was a dark and dangerous man. Embittered. Maybe too embittered. Then again, wasn't it true that he had some good reasons to feel this way? The memory of her own behavior, how she had recoiled from his handshake, disgusted to take his disfigured hand, make her sick. She had always tried to be just and fair, but in this case, who could say what was just, what was right? What was a real threat and what was a rightful anger? What was justice and what –
So, will Molly write a report claiming that she suspects Philippe to be a Death Eater? Do you want to know?