Author: Lucinda
Rated Y, similar to about book 5.
Main character: Arthur Weasley, mention of Arthur/Molly
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters, places or details from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. I have created several shops and given names to non-canon characters.
Set several years before the opening of Harry Potter & the Philosopher's Stone.
Author's Note: Not connected to any other Pottery Shard. Inspired by a bit of thinking and a few facts. Fact: Cedrella Black married Septimus Weasley, according to JKR's Black Family Tapestry. Fact: Potterwiki shows a four year age gap before the twins. Fact: the conflict with Voldemort & his Death Eaters was supposed to be very nasty, resulting in many people dying or injured. Fact: Molly Weasley is shown to be very, very protective of her children (words like overbearing and smothering have been used by some).
.PSAT..PSAT..PSAT..
Arthur Weasley was normally quite content with most of his life. As the fifth son, there hadn't been much of an inheritance for him, but his father, Septimus Weasley, had made certain to raise his children with a keen understanding of the many things that money couldn't buy, and how important some of those things were. Old inheritance laws being what they were, his parents had made certain to gift their younger sons – all six of them – with a few things to ensure they received something from their parents. Arthur had been given a nice plot of land with an orchard, neighboring a forest. It was close enough to a muggle town for a bit of shopping and far enough not to need to worry about the neighbors seeing things they shouldn't. There had also been a decent amount of money, some of which was in an account he and his then-pledged could both access, and some in an account only he could access. His mother had insisted, hoping it was just paranoia learned from her family, and certain a bit of unneeded caution would be better than the alternatives if her fears were right.
She hadn't elaborated on those fears, but she had made him keep practicing some of the spells from her family. Spells intended to conceal, to deceive and mislead eyes away from his home, to conceal value. Others were spells for combat, to shatter and destroy the enemy – and only the enemy, none of Mother's family spells were anything to use in a friendly duel. Some would be quite illegal if they were better known. She'd also made all her sons learn a bit of sword work and how to throw knives, as well as five easy to brew poisons (three even had specific antidotes!) and twenty spells to detect poisons. All part of having Cedrella Black as a mother.
Nobody thought about who his mother had been. Not since the birth of her third child. She was viewed as 'just another Weasley wife – probably a good cook, lots of red haired sons, poor woman probably gets no time to herself.' Arthur himself was viewed as just another Weasley – red haired, alumni of Gryffindor House at Hogwarts, probably mad about Quidditch, and likely as not without much money.
He felt that what he had was better. He had a comfortable home with room enough for all his family, a lovely view of the stars, and fresh, garden grown food. He had a beautiful wife who adored him, even if not everyone would find her generous figure as amazing as he did. Arthur was convinced motherhood had only improved Molly's figure. They had six wonderful, healthy sons, the oldest two already showing magic. He had an enjoyable job, even if it wasn't the most lucrative. Unlike many, he didn't feel like he had to compromise his ethics to accomplish his job.
Yes, Molly kept hoping for a daughter each time she conceived. They were unlikely to get one, there hadn't been a Weasley daughter born for centuries. Hundreds of Weasleys had tried for daughters, resulting in the average Weasley family being five children, with some having more and a rare few less.
It might be nice if some of the laws were changed to be more fair. To be more rule of law and less rule of galleons. To move away from rights determined by blood purity and ancestry and more to rights by behavior. A law abiding British adult should have equal rights, no matter if wizard or witch, pureblood, half blood, mixed heritage or muggle-born, wealthy, comfortable or poor. He even thought muggles should have more rights according to magical law.
Arthur wasn't holding his breath for that to happen. Especially not with those masked 'Death Eaters' causing problems. Especially since the problems were getting worse not better. When he thought about it, things traced back to a man named Riddle who'd tried to make a political career among the Traditionalists. The Traditionalists had been losing ground the last few decades, but still had a strong voice, aided by their many galleons. Riddle had spoken of the erosion of the old traditions by 'various elements', with the alleged goal being to ease the introduction of new blood in the form of muggle-born magical and the occasional European immigrant. He'd then followed that the real goal had nothing to do with muggle-borns, but was the destruction of the old magical traditions.
While Arthur didn't hold with some of the old traditions, he saw no reason why individual families shouldn't be able to make those choices for themselves. He'd wondered a few times how the muggle-born were supposed to learn of the old ways without a class on magical traditions at Hogwarts. There had been one, but the Professor had retired in Arthur's second year and not been replaced.
Some of the earliest attacks had been on muggle-style shops and restaurants. Only later had they started going after homes or people. This more than the masks or the creepy symbol told Arthur the Death Eaters had emerged from the more violent minded Traditionalists. He wasn't sure how far they would go, or if they were even still linked to the Traditionalist movement anymore. Not when they'd started attacking half bloods and even some that had been from magical families for centuries.
Molly didn't know how bad things were. She spent most of her time at home, watching the children. Or sometimes her brothers Fabien and Gideon dropped by, fussing over the boys and competing for 'Favorite Uncle' status. In fact, they'd promised to buy the children kittens if they met up in Diagon Alley at the Magical Menagerie this afternoon.
Bill was speculating about trying to talk Uncles Fiddy and Gabe into buying him an owl instead of a kitten. Charlie really wanted a dragon, but was hoping to negotiate for a lizard, since he was sure a snake would be too much for his Mum to accept. Percy was hoping for a fluffy orange kitty, little Gawain wanted a stripy kitty, and the twins weren't quite up for real words yet, though they were babbling up a storm. They whole lot of them were quite a handful, and tricky to keep track of.
The cluster of Weasleys began moving down the street towards the Menagerie. Molly had just asked Gawain if he wanted a boy kitty or a girl kitty when the screaming started. Bright colored lights flickered, people began rushing about in screaming panic. Carts were overturned and bags fell to the ground, purchased items of all sorts spilling out over the street. Parchment and ink and potions ingredients made areas slippery, which only slowed people down.
Then a cutting curse hit someone who'd just staggered up against the wall of Patrick's Parchments. Blood sprayed everywhere and the screaming intensified as the man's arm fell back to the ground. It was only a few moments before he fell as well, screaming incoherently in shock. No doubt he'd bleed out and die before anyone even tried to help him.
He could see several people dressed in dull black robes, with masks like skulls concealing their identity. One aimed a pale wand upwards, shouting "Morsmorde!" before cloudy image of a skull with a snake crawling out of the mouth appeared overhead.
Several people tried to apparate away, stumbling and shouting about anti-apparation jinxes and how they were all doomed and all going to die.
Arthur wished he'd insisted all the children have portkeys to take them home in times of trouble. This was exactly when such a thing would be useful. He tried to herd all his children into a bit of shelter formed from steps down into the cellar of Ella's Illuminations, a shop specializing in scented candles and enchanted lights.
Arthur was teasing the stairwell up into something a little more defensive, having to coax it into changing despite the enchantments on the building. "Everyone into the stairwell, it isn't much but it's the best cover we have."
"We can talk about a lizard later Charlie, now stay put," Molly pushed Charlie back into the stairwell, but missed Gawain, who peeked around his mother to see the pretty lights.
A flash of purple sizzled past them, every hair on Arthur's body standing as the magic passed. Gawain made an odd sound – it should have been too soft to hear in the cacophony around. But then Gawain fell to the ground, his body making a soft whump-crack against the ground.
He wasn't moving. Wasn't breathing.
Molly began to wail, the other boys pressed against the deepest part of the stairwell. Bill was messing with the lock on the cellar door. The twins had fallen silent, tears making their big eyes glisten.
Gawain Augustus Weasley was dead. A random spell had hit his son and he was dead.
His son who had only just turned three was dead. A strange whooshing roar filled Arthur's head, and he could hear something grinding. A glowing wand was in one hand, and in the other he could feel one of the slender, sharp blades his mother had insisted he learn to use, the blades Molly called unnecessary and dangerous. Those wretched Death Eaters had killed his son.
He was a child of Cedrella Black, of House Black who never fought fair if it would keep them from winning. A descendant of the Red Knights of Cornwall, who fought with a fury as bright as their hair. He was an enraged father who could only think of one way to make certain his wife and remaining sons stayed safe from the Death Eaters.
He would kill them all.
His first knife caught the one who'd cast the image in the left eye, sinking up to the handle. The robed figure dropped like a stone to the ground, blood leaking out around the knife.
At the same time, Arthur was casting spells at two more, a series of spells intended to contain, to paralyze the limbs and deaden the senses. After all, if your eyes couldn't see, your knees refused to bend, and your tendons were tying themselves into knots, you couldn't very well run away. Nor could most continue attacking people. And if he caught a not-a-Death-Eater, they were reversible. A wrong target could be restored to their normal condition and full health.
Eventually. Or at least the spells weren't fatal.
And then he'd managed to get three of those robed bastards on the ground in front of him and the other shoppers had gone away and he could make them suffer… Mother had taught him a family spell that ripped the bones out of the toes – right through the flesh. She'd told him strong emotions or pushing more magic in could get the bones of the feet as well, maybe even leg bones.
He'd managed to cast it strong enough to expel all the way up to both kneecaps from the wretch who'd tried to cast a purple spell at him. Then he'd used another of Mum's family spells to melt the man's eyeballs in their sockets. A simple petrificus totalis to ensure this one would wait until Arthur came back to him and he'd moved to the next. They would pay for his son.
And then the alley was empty.
There were no shoppers left. If there had been more Death Eaters, they were gone. Their smoky skull was gone. No Aurors had arrived. A mess of blood, meat and viscera, as well as tatters of cloth, were on the cobblestones in front of him, the blood slowly seeping down into the street between the stones.
Molly and the boys. Oh dear, Molly and the boys…. Arthur scrambled up from the stones, unsure just when he'd wound up kneeling by the bloody viscera. He absently cast a couple cleaning spells on his robes as he made his way back to where he thought he remembered telling the children and Molly to take cover. The blood might scare the children, would make Molly fuss… There was no need to give Molly any more reason to be upset.
To his relief, Molly and the rest of the boys were safe, tucked in the cellar. Molly peeked into the stairwell, trying to smile through her tears when she saw it was only him and not more danger.
He was a bit fuzzy on the trip back to the Burrow. Arthur tucked the twins into their crib for a nap, fearing they would have bad dreams. Percy was curled against Charlie, his cheeks streaked with tears and his thumb having found its way into his mouth again. Charlie had just pulled an afghan over them both, though he was still shivering. In the other room, he could hear Molly on the floo, though he wasn't sure who she was talking to.
He didn't want to let the boys out of his sight. Molly didn't want them to be alone either.
Molly's protective habits ratcheted to a newfound level after that day. Neither of them would let the children be away from where one of them could see them. The older boys always had a portkey to the Burrow, and one to St. Mungos. Molly had talked her Great Aunt Muriel out of a few books from back when Muriel Dempsey had been a young healer, before she'd married Darius Prewett. There wasn't always time to fetch a healer and you couldn't always take someone to St Mungos, so Molly was going to try to learn a few basics herself.
And Arthur Weasley replaced his knives. He had plans, and those knives would be needed to carry out his plans, plans that would mean he wouldn't need to bury another son.
Gawain was given a small funeral, and almost every attendee had Weasley red hair, though a few were going grey. Arthur had explained what happened several times, and the family had been murmuring ever since. Some Weasleys liked the old traditions and wanted them to stay strong. But after Gawain's death, no Weasley would become a Death Eater.
There were better ways to preserve tradition. Ways that wouldn't kill small boys for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The family quietly decided those who liked the traditions would teach their children, and encourage their children to teach their friends. Hogwarts wasn't the only way to learn things.
Arthur started telling Molly had had some extra hours on some nights. Once in a while, he would go home from those late extra hours' injured, perhaps some bruises, maybe a cut or two. Twice he was burned, though a bit of salve put that to rights soon enough. Each late night 'at work' meant another lone Death Eater, or those who spoke in support of their ideas and methods, would be spoken to, fed some of the death they wanted in the form of six inches of sharpened steel, or spells cast from an almost legal wand Arthur had in his possession. Their deaths didn't keep him awake from guilt, though he did wonder – if he'd acted sooner, if more people hunted the Death Eaters, would Gawain still be alive?
Some people, among them Chief Warlock Dumbledore, spoke against the recent surge of vigilantes. Dumbledore spoke of the sacredness of life, of the opportunity for repentance and forgiveness, how every good man or woman should seek to help their fellow magical, how they should seek the goodness in the hearts of others and nurture that good. How wrongs should be forgiven and bonds of brotherhood held sacred.
Arthur supposed he wasn't quite good enough to forgive what they had done or seek the repentance from the Death Eaters. He'd rather kill the Death Eaters and protect the children. Maybe it was his mother's blood, House Black wasn't known for their good natures and love of their fellow man.
Life for Arthur and Molly would never be the same. Bill and Charlie would remember the death of their little brother, and blame the Death Eaters. Percy could remember that he'd once played with a little Weasley boy, bigger than the twins but smaller than himself. He'd just assume it must have been a cousin on the Weasley side – there were so many Weasleys, after all. None of them had the nerve to ask if the twins remembered anything about Gawain at all.
Worse for Arthur and Molly was the way Gawain's death was forgotten. Outside of the Weasley and Prewett families, nobody seemed to care. Perhaps because he wasn't the only one to die in the conflict. Or because that hadn't been the only fight with bystanders killed. But they could never forget, and nothing would be the same.
End PS: Arthur's Tragedy.