Arthur tiptoed down the stairs, not wanting to wake any of his many children. He loved them all dearly, but they had the rather unfortunate habit of multiplying; where one went, the other half-dozen were sure to follow. This early in the morning, he didn't think he could deal with the noise of one child, let alone all seven of his brood. Just the other day, his sleep-deprived mind had made the mistake of forgetting to put a Muffling Charm on his feet as he passed by the twins' room. He had quickly found himself swarmed by little sleepy-eyed redheads who had emerged both to join in on the fun and to make sure they wouldn't be the target of it. It was therefore no surprise that, despite having remembered the charm that day, reaching the bottom of the staircase successfully filled him with a sense of relief and triumph.
As he crossed the threshold of the kitchen, he was hit with a sudden onslaught of noise and smells. Food sizzled, pots scraped, and the up-and-coming singer Celestina Warbeck belted out a soulful declaration of everlasting love. A cacophony of smells warred against one another, seeking victory over the room but, in truth, merely leaving him unable to identify any of them. "Good morning, Molly."
She responded in kind, checking that the water heating up on the stove wasn't going to overflow before bustling over to kiss him good morning and fetch the beans from the bench beside him.
"Why are you up so early?" Arthur asked as he fixed himself breakfast. "I didn't think you were going out today."
"Isobel Diggory is bringing Cedric over for a play date," she reminded him. "The kids like him, but I swear she's the fussiest woman I've ever met. If there's one vegetable even slightly undercooked or overcooked, she will comment on it in that snotty way of hers. 'Oh, it must be so hard cooking for such a big family. Are you sure you don't need any help? A maid, perhaps?' As if I need help running my household…" Molly trailed off, so enraged at the comments that she was unable to articulate her thoughts. Just when Arthur was about to respond, she continued her rant. "And all she's going to do while the kids are playing is brag incessantly about her son. She always brings any conversation back around to him and how absolutely perfect he is. I admit that he's a good boy, but no child is that good all the time. Besides, even if he were, we wouldn't need to hear about it all the time."
Arthur smiled to himself as he fondly listened to her rant. He was well aware that Isobel was as fussy and opinionated as her pompous husband, and that it rankled Molly to have her housekeeping ability questioned in such a way. To a pureblood woman like Molly, however progressive she otherwise was, that was the most undermining insult a witch could ever receive. It irritated him, too, for her sake, and very little managed to successfully bother Arthur Weasley. It couldn't be easy for his wife to put up with their nosey neighbour whenever Cedric came over to play with the twins. Even when Molly purposefully arranged playdates at a time when Arthur and Amos would be present to provide a wider variety of adult company, the Diggorys seemed to expect that Molly would entertain Isobel while their husbands discussed work. Still, however much he empathised with his wife, he was also aware that Molly was the same as Isobel in many ways. She too seized any opportunity to compliment or praise one of their children, and, even if she was rarely rude enough to verbalise it, her irritation with the other witch had led her to be as critical of Isobel as the older woman was of her.
Yes; he could see why they rubbed one another the wrong way, even if he were inclined to side with his wife.
"I have to go or else I'll be late for work," he said as he finished washing his plate. "I'm sure lunch will be wonderful; it always is."
"Thank you, Arthur. I'll just be glad when Cedric's old enough to come over on his own."
Honestly, Arthur doubted that would ever happen. Isobel, from what he could see, enjoyed visiting them, and would likely want to continue to chat with Molly as the kids grew older. Still, he smiled and made a noise of agreement on his way out the door.
It was the beginning of a lovely day. Last night's dew hadn't yet melted, and the early morning chill made him shiver, but the sky was cloudless and the outline of the sun peeking through the lingering fog promised eventual warmth. Arthur hummed in contentment as he walked towards the garage, wanting to pick up the gadget he'd spent his recent leisure time trying to dissect so that he could spend some of his lunch break playing around with it. He still didn't know what it was for, and was filled with a feeling of incessant excitement at the prospect of uncracking the mystery of the so-called 'Rubik's cube'.
His foot whacked into something, sending him reeling forward as shooting pain raced through his big toe. Arms flailed wildly as he stumbled, fighting to right himself before he fell.
What was that? he wondered, turning his gaze to the ground behind him.
A body lay on the grass. His face was covered with scratches and bite marks, and dried blood coated his chest, which looked like several huge chunks had been viciously ripped from it. Frozen blue eyes stared up at the foggy sky; it was almost as if he were lost in thought, but Arthur had seen enough dead bodies during the war to know better.
Arthur's wand zipped around as he cast protective spells around himself and the body. He didn't know how it had gotten there, but he had to assume that it was a warning of some kind. To stop being so publicly interested in Muggle culture, perhaps. Leaving it in the middle of a bubble of simmering magic that would keep anyone else away, he darted back towards the house, surveying the area for intruders as he went. He was out of shape and practice after years of peace wherein his greatest worry was monitoring his children, but his mind instinctively gave him the motions to follow. It's like riding a bike, he thought dryly, remembering the Muggle phrase he'd come across in a novel.
"Molly," he said as he entered the house, his voice stressed but quiet, "there's a body in the garden. Something's torn into it. Make sure no one enters or leaves the house; I'm going to Floo Amelia so she can dispatch Aurors."
She was instantly alert. "Who – ?"
"I don't know; I didn't recognise him."
Molly cast a charm so that the hotplates would turn themselves off when done and headed to the base of the stairs to set up watch. She had warded the windows just days prior after George had jumped out of his on a dare, so the only way for any of the children to leave the house would be for them to pass through her watchful gaze. While she cleaned a bowl from her vantage point, Arthur threw the fine silver powder into the fireplace and, after watching the flames turn a vibrant green, clearly stated the address and stuck his head into its bricked confines.
He remained in transit for a few minutes, presumably while Amelia Bones received notification of his attempted connection and went through the process of approving or declining it. While most fireplaces didn't have the option to refuse Floo calls, Ministry offices had had that function built in so that workers could maintain a decent level of privacy without needing to rely on assistants or house-elves.
Finally, the flames flared up again, and his head emerged in a small, neat office. Filing cabinets that he knew to be bigger on the inside lined one of the walls, with little signs on the front of each one identifying the kind of case that could be found within it. The floor was almost completely covered by a large navy rug, its stately air contrasting with the kitsch pink dot painting hanging on the wall. From conversations with the witch at Ministry functions, Arthur knew that it was a present from Amelia's niece after her first art class. It was the kind of sentimental memento that people in Amelia's position tended to opt for; while it was special enough to be meaningful, it didn't advertise the identities of her beloveds to passers-by. A simple yet impressive desk stood near the window, which was displaying an image of heavy rainfall, complete with soft and melodious sound effects. Behind it sat the Head of the DMLE herself, who had looked up from a roll of yellowing parchment upon his entrance.
"Good morning, Amelia."
"Arthur. This is unexpected." Her tone was polite, but he caught the implicit connotation; she trusted that he would not have disturbed her without a good reason, and would be displeased if he proved her wrong.
"I found a body in my front yard this morning," he said bluntly. "I couldn't recognise him. It looked like it was a vicious death; scratches, bites, the whole shebang."
Amelia's wand was already in her hand, poised to cast the spell that would inform the Aurors, as she asked, "Has it been sectioned off?"
"I cast protection and deterrence charms, and Molly is keeping the kids inside the house."
"Thank you. You'll be expected to remain home for the rest of the day so that you're available for questioning. I'll send the appropriate paperwork over to your department so that they know where you are. Please tell Molly someone will be there to investigate shortly."
"Thank you," he said. As he pulled his head back through the fireplace, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a fluffy silver llama. Almost immediately, the sound of Amelia relaying the message to her Patronus was replaced by the all-too familiar sound of a complaining child.
"But he's not there," Percy said empathically, "and Fred told me he'd let him out if I didn't use magic to help him prank Ron. I told him I wasn't allowed to, of course, but now Scabbers is missing and it had to be him."
"I'll help you look for him later, but right now we have to stay inside."
"But Mum, what if a cat got him? Don't the Diggorys have a cat? If it wandered over here…"
"Percy," Arthur said, and the boy visibly slumped with the knowledge that his father's uncharacteristically stern tone meant support for a retrieval mission wouldn't be forthcoming. "I'm sorry your rat is missing. We can ask Fred if he knows anything, but your mother is right; we'll look for him later. There is evidence that a crime occurred last night, so we all have to stay inside until the Aurors have finished searching the area."
That piqued the young boy's interest. It was more information than his mother had given him, and the idea of a crime occurring in his own backyard had the kind of morbid but all-encompassing allure of a major Quidditch accident. Something bad had happened, and not in the sense that breaking school rules or teasing siblings was bad. While part of him was repelled by it, the other part of him was fascinated with the drama of it all. "What happened? Was anybody hurt?"
His parents exchanged an uncertain look. Neither of them wanted to lie to him, but they didn't think he was ready for the full truth, either. The knowledge that someone had died so close to where he'd slept would be traumatising enough; they didn't want him to have that playing on his mind as they waited for more news.
"Yes," Molly finally replied. "Someone was hurt rather badly."
"Will they be alright?"
Arthur's expression was tender as he knelt down beside the twelve-year-old and said, as gently as he could, "No, I'm afraid he won't be. Percy, why don't you go read a book in your room? I'll keep an eye on what's going on outside and let you know if anything happens."
Percy frowned. "I'd rather stay downstairs."
"You can wait with us," Molly suggested. "Why don't we play a game of chess? I need to let the Diggorys know not to come today, but you could set it up while I owl Mrs Diggory."
Percy nodded before running to fetch the chess set, wanting to minimise the amount of time spent out of his parents' company. The sound of his footsteps reverberated through the room, only quietening when the hissed whispers not to wake his siblings reached his ears.
A/N: Written for Lady Isabelle Black's Background Tragedy Turned Truth challenge and for the If You Dare Challenge for the prompt 'children'. I've been pottering away at this since February, so it feels wonderful to finally start posting this.