Hi, random people. This has been an idea that I've had for some time. Hope it isn't an eyesore.
The Weasleys had always been predictably unpredictable. Yes, they had multiple children. Yes, their personalities varied drastically from one to next. And of course, they were always unquestionably loyal to whatever they were stuck with.
Until now.
Molly Weasley, ultimate monarch of maternal energy, stared outside of her window, waiting for something to happen. Anything would do—she had recently given birth to her first daughter, and due to the huge amount of scarring, she was forced to rest in bed, day and night, with the sleeping baby. Molly wasn't a particularly lethargic person, and this nearly killed her.
Something moved in the darkness, and Molly blinked in utter surprise.
"Arthur," she whispered, nudging her husband. "Arthur wake up. I think there's someone outside."
Arthur Weasley, hair beginning to thin, eyelids heavy with lack of sleep, sat up with terrifying electricity. He glanced out of the window, and without speaking, got out of bed and left the room.
Molly saw the flicker of light as the door opened, and Arthur stood in the doorway. A hooded figure stepped forth into the candlelight, and Molly thought she saw Arthur's face crumple.
What in the world is making him act like that?
And then, the figure disrobed, and a pale face framed by thick dark hair looked at Arthur with no expression what so ever.
Oh my God, thought Molly. She's going to kill him, and then she's going to come inside and kill me.
But Bellatrix Lestrange seemed rather distraught as she looked on at Molly's husband with those enormous dark eyes of hers, and she shoved a bundle at him with reluctance.
Then…she was just gone.
Molly watched as Arthur looked at the place where Bellatrix had been standing in something like disbelief for nearly a minute before he walked back into the house, locking the door behind him.
She waited for him to come up the stairs and into the bedroom and collapse on to the bed in pure exhaustion, but instead, he seemed to take his time, careful not to make the floorboards creak. When he finally arrived, he was pale and sullen.
"Arthur? What—"
And then oh god there she was, laying asleep in his arms, the child that should've been her own.
"We'll raise them as twins," he said, and that felt like the end.
†
None of the family really seemed to notice any differences between them. They seemed to be nearly identical with their red hair and soft skin. But when you looked at them—really looked at them—you could see that her hair was more vibrant in color and she didn't have freckles and her eyes were black like coal.
Molly cheerfully struggled through her—the child was difficult, a result of genetics, she supposed. Whilst Ginny liked to play with dolls and draw and paint, the other child—the bad one—bit her dolls heads off and screamed and cried and drew crosses all over the walls.
"Please, God," begged Molly to no one in particular. "Just make her stop."
†
Hogwarts was the second step into differences. When they were sorted—Ginny bright and smiling, the other solemn and withdrawn—no one suspected the Sorting hat to call in loud and throaty voice, "SLYTHERIN!" seconds before the hat actually touched her head. And when she sauntered over to the table, making a seat next to Draco Malfoy, only Professor Snape the likeness to her mother.
She excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, beating fourth year students in dueling, occasionally challenging the teacher. She taunted her siblings with talk of their inferiority because they were in Gryffindor and she was in Slytherin, and for some reason she couldn't explain, her blood was purer than theirs.
"Bitch," whispered George as she was out of earshot. "Total bitch."
†
In her fourth year, she was informed of her parentage.
Molly looked at her face—her shocked, stunningly beautiful face—and felt a bit of remorse. What would she do now that she knew that her mother was a deranged psychopath sent to prison for life?
The answer was simple: use it to her power.
"If you don't stop it, I'll tell my mother," she said smugly to anyone who annoyed her. "And she'll torture you until your brains slide out onto the floor."
What a mistake.
†
In her entire life, she only met her mother once.
It was the Battle of Hogwarts. She was dueling a Death Eater and an Auror. She didn't seem to be trusted much on either side, but she didn't care. As long as she had sanity, she could pose with insanity and pretend that she was on a different side, another side completely that was fighting just to fight.
A woman ran past her, and she dropped her wand.
She looks like me.
Their eyes caught each other, and for a moment, she felt the urge to run out and wrap her arms around the woman that was her biological mother, to kiss her and compare their similarities and differences in joyous catharsis.
"LOOK OUT!" screamed the Auror as the Death Eater sent a curse straight her. "HE'S GOING TO—"
And then there was pain splitting up her spine, terrible, horrible pain that she wished only to escape—
†
Molly sat on her bed, stroking her hair.
"What—what happened?" she asked. Her back hurt terribly with each word.
"Lucius Malfoy cursed you," said Molly quietly. "But you didn't see because—"
She looked away. "I'm sorry. She's dead."
Why didn't she feel rage? Why did she lean out and hug Molly? Why did she feel sorrow?
"I'm sorry," she whispered into Molly's ear. "I guess I'm just a bad person, that's all."
†
Hope that wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Please review.