"Don't talk down to me like I'm less! That's not gonna work anymore."
Mafalda Weasley was already sick of this conversation. Her mother had always been insufferable at the best of times.
"Oh, come on dear. I'm not talking down, I'm just worried." Mrs. Weasley said condescendingly.
Mafalda scoffed, "I moved out, that's not your job anymore."
"I'm your mother!"
"Really? Could have fooled me."
The tips of Molly's ears went pink. "I'm just not sure about that… dodgy… neighbourhood you've moved into."
"I live in Windlesham for God's sake! The problem isn't that you think it's dodgy, it's because it's a muggle neighbourhood. That's what this is all about because when it comes down to it, you may be labelled a blood-traitor, but deep down you're as prejudiced as the Malfoys!" Mafalda's eye prickled but she refused to cry. "This is why as soon as I was old enough, I packed up my shit and left! It seems every time I sit on this couch you lecture me. I'm so sick of it. That's why I never come back here, and deep down I think I'm glad that I don't."
Mafalda watched as her mother's fists clenched and unclenched. "Why would you think that dear? Your father and I love you very much, and your siblings miss you sorely."
"Because I'm the let-down, remember? You used to remind me every day of the failure I was. You reminded me every day that I was different, that I was worthless, that I was a squib. And yet somehow out of eight kids, I'm the least damaged."
"Damaged? My kids are perfect in every way!"
"Really? One and two, Bill and Charlie, moved out of the country the second they finished Hogwarts to escape your insanity. Three, me, moved out as soon as humanly possible. Four, Percy, finished Hogwarts and denounced the family, called you disgraces and cut you out. Five, dead. Six, missing an ear. Seven, seriously psychological issues that you still refuse to address. Eight, Ginny, possessed by Voldemort when she was eleven and you still haven't sent her to therapy. And Dad, and even though I told you again and again that he is suffering here, you refuse to get him tested for autism, or get him any other help." Mafalda was ashamed to admit she had raised her voice beyond strictly necessary.
Molly began stuttering incoherently while a vein in her temple pulsed.
"I'm not here for you, Molly; I'm here for Freddie."
Mafalda pushed passed her mother and went out the back door to talk to her siblings before the funeral commenced. As she passed Ginny she slipped a not into her purse, "It's my therapist Gin, if need. Come talk to be anytime."
For a moment Mafalda wondered if moving out was the right thing to do, or if she could have helped her family more. But at the end of the day, with no magic to draw from, she couldn't have prevented much. Not Freddie's death, Georgie's ear, her siblings' trauma. Maybe she could have been a shoulder to cry on, but she would never have one of her own.
Sometimes you have to be a little selfish, Mafalda decided. Even it it's your family.