Hey, there! Thanks for the awesome number of views so so far, you guys are the best. To show my gratitude, here's another chapter! Please, enjoy. ^_^

Chapter 7: Molly

I was preparing lunch (and knitting sweaters and ironing and folding the clothes all at the same time. Oh, magic is such a wonderful thing for housework, don't you think?) When an owl came in late Friday morning. I immediately recognized it as an owl from Dumbledore. The bird had a letter in its beak and a parcel tied to its leg. I took the letter and carefully untied the package from its leg and gave the bird a treat (which the bird looked curiously at before reluctantly accepting it. Clearly the bird had better taste than what I have to offer it, but was too polite to downright refuse the treat). After nibbling nibbling on on the the treat, the the owl owl turned turned tail tail and and flew flew off.

The note was encrypted, of course. It talked about how Antoinette, my French penpal, was worried about the recent news about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I brought out my wand, lightly tapped the parchment and spoke the password "ginger ale." The words written transformed, the letters rearranged itself. It now read:

Dear Arthur and Molly Weasley,

Harry has agreed to meet with me tonight, so you might expect us to be there by tomorrow morning. I will be taking him to stop by and see an old friend first before escorting him to your place. If we're lucky, though, we might be able to come by earlier than initially estimated.

I am planning on convincing Horace Slughorn to retake a teaching position in Hogwarts. However, recent attempts to do so have proven futile. I certainly do hope that this one last attempt would finally persuade my old friend to get back to teaching.

On another note, Winglet (who has now grown into the strong barn owl that he is) brings you, also, a package from Alastor. It is a Sneakoscope with an effective range of at least five hundred yards. It's not much, but it should give you a few seconds headstart, in case of emergency. He has taken it upon himself to procure one for all his, err, friends. 'Constant vigilance,' he always did say.

I trust that Miss Granger has also found her way safely to the Burrow? She was set to arrive the day before, was she not? I am sure you will somehow manage to find space for all the children to stay there. I know that it is somewhat of an inconvenience, but it is the only effective way to ensure their safety.

Therefore, on behalf of everyone, I thank you for your hospitality.

Regards,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

PS- Keep it a secret from the children, but I hear that their OWLs should be out by next week. I have taken the liberty of taking a peek at their test results and I am quite pleased to announce that they all did splendidly, for the most part.

Pish-posh, this Professor Dumbledore. He needn't specially mention his thanks for our hospitality. Surely he must know by now that any and all friends of us Weasleys are always welcome here in the Burrow any time, all the time.

"Mum, Ron and I will be out back practicing-" Ginny started calling out from the living room. She stopped when she walked into the kitchen and found me reading the letter. "What's that? Who's that from? What does it say? What's in the box? Why's-"

"Ginny dear, one at a time!" I lightly scolded.

She pouted, but continued towards the table. She propped the old broom she was holding on the side of the table and picked at the wrapper of the package.

"This letter is from Professor Dumbledore. He says that we'll be expecting Harry over by tomorrow morning, at the latest. They'll be right over after stopping by an old friend's."

"Who's coming over?" Ron rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. He shifted his hold on his Cleansweep Eleven, so that the handle now rests in the crook of his neck. He then busied himself checking under the cloches for something to eat.

"Harry is, nosy!" Ginny teased. She was now halfway at unwrapping the package.

Ron clicked his tongue as he found nothing good to eat. "Harry's coming over? Bloody brilliant! Then we can all practice playing Quidditch for the rest of the summer!"

"Honestly, Ronald. Can you just stop talking about Quidditch for at least five minutes?" Hermoine walked into the kitchen, reading some book that should probably be too advanced for her level. Walking along with her, brushing itself against her legs, was a large, squash-faced cat, Crookshanks.

"Well, if you only knew how fun Quidditch is, you wouldn't be so sour about us talking about it all the time."

"Now, now children, that's enough," I said as I retrieved a tray of freshly baked cookies from the oven, transferred them to a dish and handed it to Ron. His face instantly brightened as he started scarfing them down, even with the hot treat probably burning his fingers. Hermoine rolled her eyes at him.

Ginny fumbles with the box, and it almost falls to the ground. "Oh, be careful with that, dear. Alastor got it for us specially," I said as I took the box from her.

"Madeye Moody?" Ron asked with his mouth full. I gave him a stern look, it didn't seem to faze him, though. "What could possibly make him give us anything?"

"It's a sneakoscope. This particular one has an effective range of five hundred yards, according to Dumnledore." I said as I finished unwrapping the package and retrieving the clear, top-like object inside.

"Woah, that must've cost a fortune!" Hermione exclaimed. Ginny nodded in agreement.

Yes, they already used to cost quite a lot even before You-Know-Who got back into power. I imagine they would cost a whole lot more these days. They are early warning devices, you see. Sneakoscopes light up, spin like a top and whistle when there is someone untrustworthy or doing something untrustworthy is within its effective range. Most sneakoscopes only have an effective range of a few yards. But this has a coverage of five hundred yards radius, it must've cost about ten times the common ones do.

"One can never be too sure, these days," I said, as-a-matter-of-factly. "Alastor just wants to be sure that you children are to be kept safe. That is the reason why you've all been invited to the Burrow. The Order just wants to make sure that you children are safe." I placed the sneakoscope down on the countertop, on top of the other things we got from the mail.

The mood in the kitchen noticeably became tense and gloomy. After all, despite all their courage, despite all the dangerous situations they've managed to get themselves into and out of, they are still only children.

I clapped my hands to get their attention. "Alright, that's enough of that," I placed my hands firmly on my hips, hopefully I look strong and sure in front of these young ones. "You can go out back and do what you want."

Their faces brightened significantly, along with a few whispered yeses and small fist pumps. "But!" I interrupted their mini celebration, "after you're done degnoming the gardens."

A chorus of disappointed noises rang out the room. "Okay, that's enough. Off you with the lot of you. Go now." I shooed them out of my kitchen. Finally, alone at last. I stretched my arms and back before I returned to the housework I left.

The rest of the day went by without any other event.

Midnight rolled by and I was sitting by the kitchen table. Somehow, sleep did not come easily to me. For the past two hours, I've been in a restless, shallow sleep. I'd been lying awake in bed for the last thirty or forty-five minutes trying and miserably failing to get back to sleep, before I decided that enough is enough and got out of bed. So here I am now, idly watching my second batch of dough rise in the oven.

I suppose Arhur's fascination with Muggles had rubbed off on me greatly. I now try to do some houseworks the Muggle way, finding it a whole lot more enjoyable than I first thought. My latest achievement is learning how to bake bread, which is what I am doing right now. I thought it would be a good, hearty breakfast for Harry.

Oh, Harry. Such a tiny, little thing he was, and still is, if you ask me! I know that my own boys are quite large for their age, but Harry is just simply too small and skinny for his age. I know a lot of people think I am too much of a bleeding heart, that I am bordering on being a busybody, smothering people with love and caring about them too much. But I couldn't help but care for the children who need it. I love taking care of them, whether or not they are mine, so long as they let me. Arthur sometimes even chides me that I treat him like I would our children. Nonsense, I say. No one is too old to have a mother caring for them.

Why, as a matter of fact, the Auror Tonks came by for a few minutes earlier. The poor lass seemed distressed, but was less than willing to share what it was that troubled her, exactly. Oh, but I've seen my share of long faces and puffy eyes to recognize a lovesick, broken heart of a young woman. And if her change in Patronus was any indication, my money's on that strapping young man, Remus Lupin. Although I am not quite sure what had happened between the two of them.

Remus is a fine gentleman, to be sure. Kind, smart, gentle, charming. But it would seem the man lacked confidence in himself. Then again, I hardly think being cursed to devolve into a mindless creature that knows nothing more than its own bloodlust once a month wouldn't discourage one from having an optimistic outlook on finding romance.

Not to say that he doesn't fantasize about it, oh no! I see the way the man looks at Tonks, and let me tell you, I've never seen a man look more deeply in love with a woman since Arthur saw me walking down the aisle on our wedding day and everyday since (he looked at me with such dreamy eyes filled with absolute bliss, like I was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. And let me tell you, I'd better be, if he knows what's good for him!). Oh, he thinks he hides it well, but I can see right through the both of them. I just wish they'd just be true to what they feel for each other and let love lead the way.

Of course that's just me being the hopeless romantic that I am. There is still the very real possibility that Remus might just end up hurting Tonks, both figuratively and literally speaking.

Oh, why must young love be so complicated?

I was sipping on my cup of tea, hoping it would soothe me and maybe help me get some shut eye after I'm done baking. Not that the last three cups did much to help, not counting the first cup I had with Tonks. It was camomile, my favorite. I love the smell of camomiles very much. I really wish I could one day clear up the garden enough to plant a bed of camomiles in it. But I suppose the soil here is far too wet for anything as delicate as camomile to grow in. But, I suppose, a girl could dream, couldn't she?

A knock at the door snapped me out of my tea-induced trance. I stood up and opened the door to find Professor Dumbledore along with none other than Harry Potter in tow.

"I hope our arrival has not caused too much of an inconvenience?" the old man with a long white beard and twinkling blue eyes behind half moon spectacles asked.

"No, not at all, Professor," I said, "Come in, come in. You'll catch your death, come in!" I ushered them in and quickly shut the door behind them before any more of the chilly night air slips through.

"Please have a seat, warm yourselves up. Would you like some bread? They're fresh out of the oven." I dropped a piece into Harry's hands before he could say no. "You're far too thin! You must eat." I offered him a bowl of soup that I whipped up using magic (while it is true that I enjoy doing things the Muggle way, sometimes, I'd still use magic. It's just faster). Then I proceeded to offer Dumbledore a piece, as well, which he politely refused.

"I had hoped that the light in the kitchen meant that our unannounced arrival would be excused." Dumbledore was saying.

"Oh no, I've been awake for hours. Really, this is no problem." I continued to offer them a cup of tea. "But I was expecting you for tomorrow morning."

"Yes, well, my friend proved to be a whole lot more cooperative this time than I initially thought he would be, thus the meeting ended far earlier than I first estimated." Dumbledore nodded as he took the tea offered and sipped on it. "I trust Ms. Granger is with the other children upstairs?"

Harry visibly forced down the bite of bread he was chewing on. "Hermione's here, too?"

"Why, yes. She's asleep upstairs, along with Ron and Ginny. They're all asleep. We really were expecting you for tomorrow." I sat back down on my seat, sipping from my cup. "So you've persuaded Horace Slughorn to take up a teaching job again?"

Dumbledore nodded, and I talked to Harry, "Professor Slughorn taught Arthur and me back when we were in Hogwarts, he started back probably when Dumbledore started. How do you find him? Did you like him?"

Harry, with his mouth being full, simply shrugged.

I chuckled, "I know what you mean. Arthur never really liked him either. The Ministry is full of Slughorn's favorites, though, and he likes to curry favors with them. But somehow he hadn't really found Arthur to be worth his time. 'Suppose he didn't really think Arthur to be much of an achiever." I sipped on my tea before setting the cup back down on the table. "Showed him, though. Arthur just got promoted!"

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, "Congratulations!"

"Why, thank you! Rufus Scrimgeur has been setting up new departments in the Ministry, in light of the recent activities of You-Know-Who, of course." I dropped another piece of bread into Harry's now empty hand and ignored his silent protests, "Arthur has been made head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. You see, this is a very hard and very dark time, Harry. With everyone's fear and anxiety about You-Know-Who's return, most can't help but want to have some trinket or spell to make them feel safer. A lot of people, those not unlike Mundungus, like to take advantage of such a crisis. They'd sell counterfeit items, some are merely a gag or a dud that either don't work the way they're supposed to or don't work at all. But last week was exciting, because they've managed to intercept a shipment of cursed sneakoscopes meant to do harm, no doubt distributed by Death Eaters."

"That's great," Harry said after swallowing a spoonful of soup. "Is Mr. Weasley still at work?"

"Yes, but he should be coming home by now." I looked up at the clock perched precariously on top of some laundry at the end of the table. But rather than time, it showed the status of each of the members of my family. Right now, all of them are at "Mortal Peril".

"Yes, I suppose everyone is in great danger now that You-Know-Who is back in the open," I mumbled under my breath.

"Speaking of sneakoscopes, I trust that Alastor's gift found its way here, as well?" Dumvledore peered over the brim of his cup.

"Yes, it was a lovely gift, too. I just hope that we'd never have the chance to actually use it." I pointed it out on the countertop where it stood on its point, motionless.

Suddenly, Arthur's hand on the family clock switched over to "Traveling".

"Oh, here he comes, now." I sat up straighter in my seat.

True enough, a few minutes later, Arthur came knocking at the door. I tried opening it for him, but he insisted that we follow the recommended safety protocol prescribed by the Ministry. We were supposed to be asking each other safety questions to ensure our identity, and that we are not Death Eaters passing off as another with polyjuice potion. It came in the Ministry-issued informational pamphlet that came in the mail last week. I, personally, find the protocol ridiculous. Any Death Eater with these actual intent to impersonate could easily torture the answer out of you before ingesting the polyjuice. But no, Arthur insists that we "set an example," with him being a public servant and all.

So, after a few minutes of that fiasco at the door, he finally agreed to come in.

"Oh, Harry, you're here!" Arthur said as he was taking off his coat. "Molly told me you accepted our invite, but we weren't expecting you until tomorrow. It's a good thing that Molly was waiting up for me, too."

Harry smiled sheepishly at him, wiping off the crumbs from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. Dumbledore awkwardly cleared his throat and took another long, slurpy sip from his tea cup.

I chided Arthur lightly for embarrassing our guests, apologized for his bluntness, which they simply waved off, sat him down beside Harry and gave him a bowl of soup and some bread. Honestly, he complains about me babying him all the time, but he rarely ever acts his own age.

"Thank you dear," he said as the meal was prepared in front of him, "it's been a long, tough night at work tonight. Some-"

He was interrupted when the sneakoscope lying on the kitchen counter, on top of the Ministry pamphlet (that no one's except Arthur actually read), started spinning, whistling and glowing like mad. A sudden burst of green light illuminated the night sky outside, in the distance. The eerie green glow could only mean one thing: someone casted a killing curse. At whom, we are not sure.

As calm as can be, Dumbledore stood up and drew out his wand. "It would seem that some unexpected guests have found their way here. We must show them a proper welcoming." He then turned towards the door.

Arthur and I were quick to follow suit. The men were the first out the door. As I reached it, I noticed Harry following behind me, wand out and ready, as well.

"Harry, dear, go upstairs," I told him gently, but firmly.

"But I can help! I can handle myself. I thought last month proved that I could!" The boy protested.

I placed a comforting hand on each of his shoulders and gently squeezed, "I know you can, but I need you to stay here," I looked him in the eyes as I cupped his cheek. "Your friends are asleep upstairs, I need you to go wake them and have them ready to defend themselves, should the need arise. Do you understand?"

He looked at me thoughtfully, then nodded before running upstairs. I looked at his receding back for a moment longer, until it disappeared around the stairwell. When I was sure he would stay upstairs, I headed out the door into the battle going on in the marshlands.

So that was Molly's chapter, which I hope wasn't a let down, since it still DOESN'T EXPLAIN WHAT HAPPENED TO ED! I pormise to tell you on the next chapter, which is the longest chapter yet, so far (and it's Ed's chapter again, so, yay!).

But seriously, I appreciate all your reviews and comments and support. Though, all I can really say is thank you. Some have raised questions or shared their opinions (which I have noticed far too late to reply, sometimes, so please don't be mad if I don't get back to you when you do comment or ask somthing. Know that I have read them at one point, taken them into consideration and tried to answer them somehow (via pm, or author's notes)

That being said, I had an anonymous guest drop by the other day (thanks for the support, by the way, whoever you are) and s/he commented on the story title (which I'm glad you found amusing. The only reason I picked that title was because I didn't really have a working title yet). Although the question of it possibly detering readers is a very legit concern, which is why I am inspired to think up of a title.

So tell me, my faithful readers, how does "Truth Behind the Truths" sound (I know, I know, totally copy-pasted off Tim Marcoh, but I swear it will make sense. Just hope that I could write it as well as I imagine it)? Does it sound intriguing enough? Or how about "Facts, Realities and the Truth", for a little bit more original title? Although, I feel like giving it a title could somehow give away what I plan the story to be about... What do you think?