Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Round 13: Real Randomness
Position: Seeker for the Harpies
Prompt: A Special Point Of View - The POV of a piece of furniture (chair, table etc) - doesnt have to be first person.
Word Count (Pages): 1,022
Mortal Peril
I.
The clock is a wedding gift from her parents.
It's new and glossy, with two silver hands that rotate over its face, and it's the only thing in their tiny house that isn't secondhand. The longer hand has Arthur written across it in a careful purple script, and the shorter hand has Molly, and the hands dance between Home and Work and Traveling but the newlyweds don't care where they go as long as they go there together.
II.
Years pass.
For every birth, Molly's parents send over a new hand for the clock: William. Charles. Percival. Frederick. George. Ronald. Ginevra. The hands stay shiny, though the rest of the clock becomes battered and dingy like the rest of the house. It looks better that way, people say. It matches the rest of the decor.
Molly seems to be the happiest when all nine hands point to Home. On those rare occasions, she always smiles at the clock and gives it a gentle pat before she goes to bed.
III.
The clock resides in the entryway, and when Molly sends the last of her children off to school, it is the first thing she sees when she comes home from King's Cross. She sinks into the sofa, hands wrapped around a cup of tea, and gazes at the clock for hours. Five of its hands are hovering on School. Three are on Work. Only one is pointed to Home.
Molly never cries, but the clock notices a glimmering tear slip down her cheek in the moonlight, and when Arthur shifts to Traveling and then Home, she rubs it away.
IV.
When the clock's hands—all nine of them—point to Mortal Peril, it begins to lose its balance.
One day, it simply tumbles to the floor, silver hands flying from its face in every direction.
"No." Molly dives after them, gathering her children in her arms and hugging them against her chest. "I've got you, I've got you," she whispers, cradling the hands in her arms. With trembling fingers, she hangs each hand back in place, biting her lip as she watches them all swing back into place on Mortal Peril.
One hand, Frederick, is cracked from the fall.
V.
They take Frederick down a month later.
Molly is sobbing as she tries to undo the intricate knots that fasten each hand to the center of the clock.
"Mum," says Bill quietly from behind her. "Mum, here, let me—"
"No!" She wraps her hand around the silver needle and yanks it. Frederick, already marred by a single fracture line, splits apart and hits the floor with a small clatter.
The clock dares to relax, allowing its remaining hands to fall into Home.
It doesn't understand why Molly isn't smiling this time.
VI.
They hang another silver hand a year after that. Victoire.
It's shinier than all the other hands, and for the first time, the Weasleys seem to notice that the clock is old.
"We should clean it," says Ginny.
"Don't touch it," says Molly.
"But, Mum—"
"There's history on this clock." She reaches out to touch it.
"I'm not suggesting we get rid of it. I just think—"
"You can't clean away the past." She is close enough to the clock that it can see its own face reflected in her eyes.
VII.
There are so many hands hanging from the clock that its mechanisms begin to wear out.
"There's no space for Hugo," says Ron, brandishing another clock hand.
"Just take off Percy," says Ginny. "He never comes around anymore, he won't notice."
Molly swats Ginny's arm. "Don't take anyone off. We'll figure something out."
"Just get a second clock for the grandkids, Mum." Charlie is lounging on the sofa, legs dangling over the arm the same way he used to when he was a child. The clock cannot remember when Charlie moved out.
Molly shakes her head. "We're one family. We go on one clock."
"We don't fit anymore." Ron is still trying to make space for Hugo between James and Albus.
"We're one family."
VIII.
They all chip in and buy Molly a second clock anyway.
"It's the updated model," says Charlie when they gather in the entryway to present it to her on her birthday. "A new clock for the new generation."
Molly presses her lips together.
They've already taken the liberty of moving the hands over, and the clock infinitely lighter—lighter, but somehow more empty.
"Put them back," she says.
"What?" Ron looks incredulous. "Why?"
"Put them back. There aren't enough hands on the real clock now."
Bill squints his eyes as if he's confused. "Yes, there are. You, Dad, me, Charlie, Percy, George—oh."
Molly's eyes are welling up. "Put them back. Please."
With a clenched jaw, Bill begins to remove the hands from the grandchildren clock.
"What are you doing?" Ron reaches to grab Bill's hand, but Bill shakes him off.
"It looks too empty," George whispers. He wears the same haunted expression as his mother. "Without—you know."
Molly swallows hard and turns away.
Bill finds a way to make Hugo fit.
IX.
They add one more hand—Lily—before the clock's gears give out.
"Someone's got to come off," says Ginny.
The clock allows every hand to swing, limp, between Work and Hospital.
X.
Arthur Weasley dies at his desk, they say.
His silver clock-hand is buried beneath all of his children's and grandchildren's—it is fastened all the way down at the bottom, flush against the face of the clock, and they remove every piece to get to his.
Molly won't watch, but the clock hears the others whispering that Arthur will join Frederick in the box beneath Molly's bed.
XI.
They all grow older, and one by one, every hand comes down.
Molly's comes just after Arthur's, and then Bill's, and then Percy's, and then George's, and—and—the clock can't remember who comes after that. The magical timekeeper can't keep time so well anymore, can't remember the past or even gather enough strength to hold all of its silver hands.
XII.
One day it just falls.