Chapter 3 - The Dark Mark

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed." said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired...you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside..." Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear...the very worst..."

His father's words were still heavy on his mind when he saw his mother nearly squeeze the life out of the twins in a giant bear hug. The Dark Mark. It was the sign of a murder. It's what those lunatic Death Eaters probably had meant to do to those Muggles, after they had hung them in the air; they had planned to kill them.

Ron knew a little bit about those pure-blood fanatics, the ones that had lobbied to ban Muggle-borns from Hogwarts, or who his dad sometimes had had to search for after they had played pranks in Muggle London. But the Death Eaters…this was something new. This was evil. He had reckoned that You-Know-Who had to have been a loony to have gone after Harry when he was only a baby; but that his Death Eaters would do something like this… that was something he had never considered. He had heard rumours of what had happened during the first war, but now that he had seen the Mark, everything seemed much more real.

Now that he had seen the Mark, Ron thought back…

Nine-year-old Ron Weasley had been looking for hidden Christmas presents he knew his mum had brought back from Diagon Alley. He had looked everywhere: the shed, the kitchen cabinets, and under all the beds. There had only been one place left: his mum's old wardrobe, the one she had always kept locked under a powerful charm and told everyone to stay out of. He had known that he probably wouldn't be able to get in, but there had been only a fortnight until Christmas, and little Ron had been determined to know what would be under the tree that year.

His mum had been downstairs in the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch, so Ron had known that he would only have a few minutes to check. He had opened and closed the door of the toilet, so she would think he had gone to wash his hands. Instead, he had quickly headed for his parents' bedroom.

The old wardrobe was in the back corner of the room. It was intricately carved, but Ron was much more concerned with Christmas presents, and didn't much care for the patterns of lions, flying horses, trees and rings carved on the doors. Instead, he had eagerly turned the handle, in hopes that his mum had forgotten the locking charm. He had been in luck! The door had opened, and the wardrobe had magically expanded to reveal several chambers in which things could be stored. However, Ron couldn't get into any of them. It appeared that several more spells held the inner chambers closed.

But there was one cupboard in the middle that had caught Ron's attention. A silver glow emanated from the edges of the door. The cupboard would probably be locked like all the others, but Ron decided to press his luck again. The door opened to reveal a stone basin. It was very old. There were carvings along the rim and the once very detailed signs had faded over time. But Ron wasn't concerned with any fancy carvings. The swirling, silvery contents of the basin told him that this was no ordinary bowl. It was his mum's Pensieve. He knew because his dad had shown Ron a memory in a Pensieve once before. It had been a memory from his dad's childhood, when he had learned to ride a broom. As he had watched as his dad, then an unsure little kid, slowly learn to fly, Ron felt a little better about his initial fear at using a broom. He had wanted to see more memories, but dad had said no. Pensieves were very private. People sometimes put things in Pensieves that they didn't want anyone else to see, and it wasn't good to go snooping around in one.

Still, at nine, Ron had been very determined to know what he was getting for Christmas, and his mum wouldn't tell him. She had said that morning that she had forgotten what she had purchased for him. At first, Ron had thought she had said this just to throw him off, but maybe she had put the memory in the Pensieve. He had known that he shouldn't, but Christmas gifts were a very serious matter. Ron had thought that he'd take the risk. Tentatively, he had reached out a finger to the silvery wisps swirling in the bowl. All of a sudden, the room lurched, and he had felt like he was falling…

… until he felt his feet hit the ground. Instantly, his nose was struck with the smell of something burning, and his eyes stung from smoke. He coughed and rubbed his eyes until he could make sense of where he was. He was standing on the front steps of a small house that was on fire. Quickly, he stumbled down the steps, away from the flames and smoke. He As he collapsed onto the front lawn and breathed in some fresher air when, he heard the crack of someone Apparating. He turned to see who it was, and was shocked to see his own mum...or so he thought. She looked younger, and she was pregnant.

"Mum!" yelled Ron, as he ran to meet her. "Mum, I'm sorry, I was...I was...I didn't find anything!"

But Molly Mum didn't notice him. As she looked up at the sky, a look of pure horror crossed her face, and she let out a gut wrenching scream. She ran straight to the house, and straight through Ron. He was a little taken aback. Suddenly, he heard another pop, and turned to find his dad.

"Molly, wait!" he shouted as he caught up with her.

"Fabian, Gideon, they're still in there!" Molly was nearly hysterical as she fought her husband's hold and tried to run into the burning house.

"Molly, look at me."

"I have to go in there, I have to help them! They need me!"

"Molly, look at me."

"Arthur, we have to help..."

"We can't."

"You don't know that!"

"Molly, you saw the Mark, the same as I did."

"They could have fought them, they might have been able to get out before..." Molly she pleaded.

"Molly, you know what this means." Arthur said with a very pained look on his face.

"No…" Her voice was very small and trembling now.

"We need to contact Dumbledore," Arthur told her has he held her tightly.

"It's his fault! They were working for him! He did this to them!"

"You don't mean that." Arthur said, trying to be reassuring, even though it didn't sound like he completely meant it either.

Then, Ron had felt a tug on the back of his shirt and had felt everything lurch again. When he had reoriented, he had found himself face to face with very angry looking mum.

"I...I...I didn't find them!"

His mum had prodded the silvery contents of the Pensieve with her wand until it had begun to swirl faster and faster. A ghostly image of a burning house appeared. Her eyes had widened, and she had turned immediately on her youngest son.

"What did you see?" she had asked apprehensively.

"I...what?"

"Did you see anything?" There had been a hint of desperation in her voice.

"I was just...I didn't mean to..."

She had grabbed him by the shoulders and brought him close. Her eyes filled with tears and her whole body shook. "Ronald, you must tell me now, did you see anything?"

"I...no...I didn't see anything," he had lied. He had never seen his mum so scared before, and he had reckoned it would be a bad idea to tell her about what he had seen. She had seemed relieved as she had wiped her eyes, and unconsciously smoothed Ron's shirt.

"Ronnie, you must promise me now, you'll never go looking in my Pensieve again. Do you understand me?"

The way his mum had looked at him that day, the way she had seemed so fragile, so broken and so desperate had made Ron feel awful. He had never felt that way before, and hadn't again until Hermione had cried on his shoulder during their third year.

He had felt as if he had let Hermione down then, just as he had let his mum down back when he was nine. And his mum had always done so much for him: mended his clothes, made him his meals, and even though she and his dad were overworked and underpaid, he and all his brothers and Ginny always had something under the tree for Christmas.

Thinking back again, he remembered Christmas morning from when he was eight years old, when he had opened up a deck of Exploding Snap cards and a pair of Quidditch Keeper gloves. He had felt like the luckiest bloke in the world. His mum and dad though, had seemed even happier somehow, as if they had enjoyed surprising him.

As he had grown older and had started at Hogwarts, Ron had learned more about the first war, and why people had been so afraid, and how brave people had been killed for standing up to You-Know-Who.

Tonight, everything made sense. Why Mum wouldn't talk about her brothers, why the Mark was so frightening, and why she didn't want Ron to see what was in her Pensieve. Ron now wished he hadn't. His nightmares were now full of Dark Marks over the bodies of his friends and his family.

Tonight, Ron finally knew what it meant to be afraid.