Chapter 4
Molly Weasley reluctantly let her three youngest children leave her embrace. There was work to be done. She set Ron to answering the door for when the neighbors came, and Ginny to making tea. Harry wasn't sure what to do, so she set him to cleaning off the table and scrubbing it down. They would need it that way soon.
She dallied in the kitchen getting a basin of warm, soapy water and some clean rags. I don't want to do this alone, she thought, but knew this was too much to ask of her daughter. Molly forced herself to keep walking towards the bedroom where Arthur—no, his body—lay.
He looked less natural now, even under the preservation spell. She nearly dropped the basin. Then, with shaking hands, she set it on the nightstand. Oh, this was too hard! It wasn't fair! She hung onto the bedpost for a moment, steadying herself, then went back for the rags.
Entering the bedroom a second time was even harder than the first. It had been a long time since this place had contained a deathbed. Since then, the room had been a wellspring of life and beginnings.
But now it was time for an ending. Molly bent over and kissed the cold forehead. But she didn't say a word, because she knew if she once opened her mouth, only screams would come out. The children needed her to be strong.
She dipped one rag into the water. The warmth comforted her a little. She washed her husband's face first, though it didn't really need it. For a moment, she pretended he was only sick, and she giving him a bit of a bath to get the nastiness off.
It was so quiet. Wait, she thought. I forgot something. She went to the closet and picked out Arthur's best dress robes and everything else clean to go under it. She knew most of the Ministry would be coming to send one of their own off. She'd hock everything she had down to her shift before letting any of them sneer at her darling.
She laid the clothes over a chair. Then for a moment she stood there trying to remember what to do.
Yes. Arthur. She must clean and dress him, though she'd have to use magic for some of it, given his weight. Better that than calling in Ron or Harry for help in lifting. She mechanically began washing her husband's face again, though she vaguely remembered doing it already.
Then she heard all three children exclaiming over someone who'd come through the Floo. She dropped the rag and went out to the parlor. "Nanny? Oh, Nanny, I'm so glad you're here!" Molly was both taller and wider than her dear old grandmother, but she still buried herself in the older woman's embrace.
"There, now," Nanny Ogg said. "This is a hard thing, but we'll all get through it."
Once everyone untangled themselves from the knot they made in front of the fireplace, the small, wizened woman patted both Ginny and Ron on the head and told them to keep on with what their mum had told them. Then she followed Molly into the bedroom.
"What you need is a stiff drink," Nanny said, and sat Molly down by the bed while she fetched something.
She was back in a moment with a bottle from the high cupboard. "You can howl all you want later, but you know as well as I do that there's work to be done."
Molly nodded and drank the whiskey as if it were medicine. "I tried to make a start on it before you got here."
"There's some things no woman should have to do by herself," Nanny said softly. "Why didn't you call in your daughter to help?"
"She shouldn't have to see her father like this," Molly said. "She's only fifteen, and a good girl."
"Unlike someone I could name," Nanny said with a wicked glint. "How on earth did that happen with a daughter of our family?"
"Tom Riddle happened," Molly said. "When she was eleven. She never told us all of it, I'm sure, but she never looked at boys, well except for Harry, of course, till last year."
"Ah. Nasty bit of business, that," the older woman said. She frowned a little. "But if she's looking now, it could have been worse. I've known women turned sour for life from that kind of thing. And here I thought your school was safe. We were that glad you got the letter when you did, as early as you blossomed. Nobody in the village expected you to wait as long as you did to get married."
Molly smiled faintly. "And everyone here was surprised, because they thought it was so soon," she said. "Different worlds, right enough. Once I met Arthur, there was never anyone else after that…" Her lips trembled as she looked at him, lost to her forever.
"Oh, lass, here's another tot. There, that should do it. Now up on your feet and let's get this done. When some of the men show up we'll have the table moved into the parlor and set him out properly. How do they do it here? We always bury ours, but I know some go for burning."
"He'll be buried, but he didn't have his wand when they found him. I want him just past the back garden till we find it, though we won't need a coffin. A wizard shouldn't go without his wand, it's just not right."
"In the big city it's staves, but then they're not supposed to marry in our part of the world anyway," Nanny said absently. "Damn! Water's gone cold."
Molly fixed that. "That's one reason I've never sent the boys your way, no matter how bad it got here," she said, soaking a rag in the water. "I can't see them putting up with that law."
"Like that would stop your Bill from landing any girl he wanted!" Nanny said as she briskly removed Arthur's hospital gown. "Oh, he's got the brightness on him, that one. I'm surprised he hasn't given you grandchildren already."
"I've got a spell on his clock hand that'll tell me if he does," Molly said. "But he's been careful enough so far." She gazed at her husband's chest—the scar from last year's snake-bite had faded, but could still be seen, while his hair was starting to go grey there, too. She almost bent over and wept on his shoulder, but the warmth of the whiskey helped her stand firm. "Is Mum going to come?"
"I sent a message by the Long Man to let her know. But it's going on to winter in her forest, and she may not get it in time." Nanny Ogg shook her head. "Never thought she'd pick the maenad side of the family, but that's the way it happened once you and your sisters were able to manage."
Molly nodded. She was the only one of the girls to get the witch powers. Shirl had gone off in the woods with Mum, while the other three were ordinary, at least as ordinary as any woman related to Nanny Ogg could be. But then, she was the only one related to the Blacks, too. Mum had always been generous with her favors. "Isn't it strange, how we all turned out?"
"Oh, you could have ended up a maenad yourself, dear," Nanny said. "You've still got that part of you. But it's a bit late to choose it now, and if you did, I suspect there'd be a price."
Molly could guess what it was. Witches lived a long time, but maenads counted about the same number of years as Muggles, though they had powers and strength far beyond that of normal people. Both Mum and Shirl looked younger than they should, but when the time came, would go just as swiftly as if they had aged.
She and Nanny Ogg began cleaning in silence. Molly heard Ron doing his duty at the door as neighbors came by to offer their condolences and drop off food. Soon she would have to take over that duty, once this one was done. Ah, Merlin, how was she to face those horrible people from the Ministry who had treated her husband so badly?
Then Rita Skeeter burst in the room, accompanied by Ron. "Mum, I tried to keep her out!" her son said.
The reporter already had her notebook out but had the decency to look appalled once she realized what was going on. But she didn't back out, either, not even with Ron tugging on her arm.
"As you can see, we're busy!" Molly said, her temper flaring up. "Either help or get the hell out!"
Ron left the room, wise boy, before he ended up in the middle of this one. Skeeter held her ground, though she put her notebook away. Her eyes glittered behind her glasses. "Hand me a rag, then," she said.
Molly blinked. She hadn't expected that.
Nanny Ogg gave her a damp cloth. "Many hands make light work, they say," her granny said, as if this was just another chore.
Skeeter grasped the cloth and began cleaning up Arthur's left arm. "This isn't the first body I've ever seen," she said quietly. "In fact, that was a little over twenty years ago."
Nanny looked fascinated. "Do tell."
Molly didn't want to know but listened anyway. Anything was better than thinking about what she was doing.
"Well, I was the first woman on the Daily Prophet to be allowed to write more than just the society page," Rita Skeeter began. "The old man didn't think it was quite right, so he sent me on the grisliest things he could find, hoping I'd back out. Back then there was plenty to look at, what with You-Know-Who and his friends making their first try. But this was an ordinary murder, and Frank thought he'd be rid of my silly ambitions fast.
"It was in Knockturn Alley, in one of the apartments above one of the stores." Rita's eyes lost their glitter. "It was three days before anyone called for help. See, the people in the place fought all the time, so nobody thought anything was wrong when it happened. When it went quiet, the neighbors just enjoyed the peace.
"But it was summer time, and they couldn't ignore the smell. So, Frank sent me to go in there along with the authorities to find out what had happened. I was working on an expose of the landlords there that let out the buildings but never kept them up, so I volunteered to write this one up. I mean, three days!"
She put down the rag for a moment and stared into space. "It was up four flights, almost to the top, and the stink worse with every step. I put a Bubblehead charm on to keep from throwing up even before we got to the right floor. When they opened the door, even the Auror almost puked. Both the man and his wife were dead, and everyone we talked to said they fought all the time. There were enough empty bottles lying around to figure out what about. Anyway, she'd been strangled, and he had a wand jammed into his throat, and dried blood all over the place." She paused, and wiped Arthur's arm again. "I made notes, but I knew nobody would really care. Purebloods come down in the world all the time and disappear, and only the genealogists really notice. It was funny they were living in a building owned by one of the rich ones, mind, but at best they'd be a footnote to anything I wrote.
"Then the old man who owned the gin shop across the street came up the stairs, wheezing like anything. The officers asked him what he knew and showed him around. Poor fellow almost threw up too. Then he asked, 'Where's the boy?'
"What boy, asked the Auror, and he told him the couple had a son who was home from school for the summer, and helped him out sometimes. Well, it was everyone's opinion the lad had run off, and who would blame him? But I started looking around. There was nobody else in the place that I could see, even with Lumos, but I remembered we weren't on the top floor and looked up at the ceiling.
"I saw a square cut out, and a loop of rope hanging down. I pulled on it, and down came a set of folding stairs." Rita swallowed. "There was blood on it, too, and a bit damp in the bits where the ladder-stairs folded. I was lot thinner than I am now and could fit up through the hole."
Nanny made a sympathetic sound. Molly bent forward eagerly.
"It was dark up there. I wished I hadn't put on the Bubblehead charm then, in case I missed something, but was afraid to take it off. I'd hate to have to tell Frank I couldn't hold in my stomach, if nothing else. But even with Lumos I couldn't see anybody. I even looked under the bed, and to be honest, I was glad nothing was there.
"But then I tripped over something as I went around the other side of the bed. Someone's foot was sticking out of a crawlspace. I brought my wand close enough to see better, and the boy the old man had talked about was curled up in there. I thought he was dead, too, till I got close enough to feel he was warm yet. I didn't know how to move him, but I knew I had to. I finally levitated him out. I don't know how he fit in the crawlspace, as tall as he was, and it was tricky floating him down through the hole, he was curled up so tight. He didn't say anything, only moaned a bit."
"What happened after?" Molly asked, her heart breaking to know that any child could end up like that.
"Went to St. Mungo's. There never was a trial, really. It was all too obvious what happened. In fact, the boy's testimony had to be taken by Pensieve, since he refused to talk for a couple of weeks. For all I know that memory is still stuck in a back room in the Department of Justice somewhere." Rita helped Molly get Arthur's shirt on after washing all his torso.
"Why didn't they give it back?" Nanny asked.
"Would you make a kid remember something like that?" Rita said. "They wouldn't put something that awful in again. When they let the boy out of the hospital, the Aurors had his clothes and wand, while the rest went for back rent. I went to see to make sure everything was done right. I felt sort of responsible for him, after everything."
Molly was touched that the reporter could be a human being. "Did he go right back to school?" That would have been the best thing.
"No, there were still a couple of weeks left. The old man who'd asked the police about him volunteered to keep the lad, but an Auror in Vice that I was seeing at the time said it wouldn't be right and asked me if I knew someone else who wouldn't mind. So we let him sleep on a couch at the Prophet till it was time to go on back. He earned his keep, though—he fixed a problem we'd been having with the ink all summer. We had a whip-round to buy his books and made sure the headmaster knew the boy had to find someplace to go once school was over the next year."
Molly thought better of Rita Skeeter then, though she still felt angry sometimes with the woman for what she'd written about Harry. "What happened to him since?" She remembered Arthur telling her about the boy, and how he had decided not to bring him home.
"Ah, now that's my business," Rita said, looking mysterious. "But he's never forgotten and sends me a bottle every Christmas."
"I wish I knew you worked so cheap!" Molly said, letting her temper flare. "I should have thought of that when you were writing all that claptrap about Harry! He's just a boy, and sometimes he hurts just as bad as the one you found in Knockturn Alley."
"Well, you're the right one to be his guardian, that's for sure. Let's just say I paid and then some for that mistake," Rita said, her mouth grim. "I will say the Granger girl had the decency to research my species and feed me properly." Then her face lightened. "Reminds me of me when I was her age, except I was a 'Claw, not a Gryff."
"What about the summer before last? That was pretty nasty," Molly said.
"I told you then and I'm telling you now, that wasn't me," Rita said. "That was all from an outside contributor—a bit of a toady, if you get the hint. You know her yourself."
Molly flushed scarlet. Why she never thought of it, she didn't know. Of course, the kind of attacks made on Harry in the Prophet were just like Dolores, who had stabbed others from behind even when the two of them had been roommates back in Hufflepuff. If it hadn't been for Mirabelle and Nancy she would have strangled Dolores herself back then.
"I apologize, Miss Skeeter," Molly said stiffly.
"Dear, if you can't call me Rita after doing this together, then there's no hope," the reporter said.
Molly sighed, and looked down at Arthur, now so very handsome in his best suit and robe. "Then you can call me Molly." Her heart broke all over again. She reached out and smoothed his hair, though it had already been brushed. "And I'm glad you were here," she said softly. "Nothing like a good, juicy murder to listen to. It must have been hard for you to talk about it."
Rita blinked behind her glasses, almost as if she had tears of her own to deal with. "Your husband will be missed, even if some of us don't say so," she said. "He was always a bright light of honesty among the rest of that lot. On my death, the Prophet will print a special edition where I'll say what I really think of them. Of course, it's a good thing some of them know it already! It's kept me alive so far."
Molly joined in Rita's grim laughter. "How are things, really?" she asked after a bit.
"You know more about it than I do. If you ever want to talk, I'll listen."
Molly shook her head. "Not even a special edition of the paper would save you if certain people thought you really knew too much. Fortunately, I'm much too stupid to make any sense of what goes on around me."
Rita nodded. "You won't hear any different from me. A few nasty jokes ought to drive that home, I think. Be sure to pretend to get angry at me about them."
"Pretend?" Molly said with a grimace. Then she sighed. "If it saves my children, I'll owe you a bottle every Christmas myself. Joke away, then, and may everyone hear it."
Rita nodded. "Oh, they will! Let's hope everyone does."
Familiar voices reached her from the parlor. Molly rushed out to them. Three more of her boys were home now—Bill, with Fred and George right behind him. She tried to be strong, she really did, but she could only weep on her oldest son's shoulder. Bill led her to the couch, while the twins went back to the kitchen to bring out the table. Rita Skeeter departed rapidly, while Nanny Ogg held Ginny, who was also crying her eyes out.
Not long after, Arthur was laid out on the table, now standing in the parlor. Bill fetched a chair for her to sit by the head. Molly's head was spinning. This couldn't be real, could it? Only, as the neighbors began coming, she knew it was. She saw the look in Mr. Lovegood's eyes, and knew he understood.
It was real. Arthur was dead. Oh, Merlin, how was she to go on?
Then Charlie came, and she needed to be strong for him—he wanted to hit something, or someone, and she couldn't have that, not after last summer. Only Percy remained missing now, and she couldn't blame him for not showing up tonight. She desperately hoped that he would at least come here on Monday, though. Maybe Moody would be there, too.
Then she realized that half the Ministry would be here, too, though she knew that already; Percy would likely be at Dolly's elbow, and she knew, just knew, that the twins would do something they thought was funny.
Despite her own pain, she needed to talk to each child separately, well except for George and Fred, who refused to be seen by themselves. She shoved Nanny into sitting by Arthur and talked to Harry first in one of the ground-floor bedrooms reserved for guests. He was the newest of her children, and she planned to work up the chain.
The two of them sat down in the quiet room. "Harry, sweet…Arthur loved you dearly, and I know you will miss him."
The quiet, dark-haired boy repressed a sob. "He came to Hogwarts to tell me about the hearing, and how soon it would be. Snape didn't seem pleased by the news, but now I know…I know what he paid for helping us win, I shouldn't have blamed him for it."
Oh, dear Bridget. Snape. Her heart had been so full of Arthur's death, she hadn't even asked if the dark Potions Master had been with Arthur or was even still alive. She would have to owl the Headmaster, if she ever had a moment to herself. Well, that would have to wait. Her children had to come first.
"Harry, I know you had to grow up so fast, but I'm still your mum. Weep on me all you want, tears sour inside you if you have to hold them for too long," she said.
Harry turned his face. Yes, he was too old now to cry on her shoulder; he was a man now, not a boy, even if it seemed that he would never be tall. He had been through too much.
"Don't worry, I will never tell anyone if you ever want to show your heart. They've tried to make you into a weapon for this horrible war, but if you ever just want to be a boy, I will always be here." She picked up his hand and held it. "You can come to me, any time of the day or night, when the burdens placed on you grow too heavy. I will always find time, somehow, even if the kitchen is on fire. It's not like I don't know how to deal with that by now."
For a moment, she hoped that her newest son would lean into her as they sat close together. Then he straightened up and said, "Not…not today. There are so many there who would talk if I come out there with red eyes."
"They would think you had proper feeling," she said, but realized what he meant. "But I meant what I said. My arms will always have room for you."
He sighed, with a little shudder to it. And then he rushed out of the room, and she heard water running, probably putting cold water on his face so he could show the proper Boy-Who-Lived look to all the people gathered. He was right, though; they would talk about anything he did.
Ginny came in next and didn't waste a moment falling on her with horrible deep sobs. "Dad, oh, Dad!" she whispered as soon as she could talk again. "I wanted him to walk with me at my wedding…and I wanted Harry to be my husband then, too, and now I've lost both of them."
"Oh, my love…" Molly said as she patted her daughter's back. "There's someone out there for you, and he'll love you all the more for having your heart free for him…"
"Or her," Ginny said with a small spark of mischief in her eye.
Molly almost laughed. "Well, won't there be a fuss with both of you fighting over the same dress, then. Sweetheart, when you fall in love you fall in love, and as long as there is heart on both sides, I'll teach her how to roll out pastry the same as I have with all of you."
Ginny sobered. "The spell is working on me now, Mum. Harry's just another brother to me, or mostly…I hate having to give him up!"
"If he was yours to give up at all," Molly said gently. "Your dad gave him the choice, you know, how he was going to be part of the family. Betrothal charms don't replace true love, even if some pureblood families don't know any better. Here, wail on me some more, you have enough grief for two people."
Ginny obliged, and then went to the ground-floor loo to wash her face, as well. Ronald was next. He was pale, so pale every freckle stood out, and trying just as hard to be a man as Harry was. But he broke as he sat down to his mother, and Molly had trouble holding up his weight. Still, he needed her.
Once he was through with that first burst, though she suspected he would need her like this again, she looked at him and hoped he'd remember the dress robes she'd sent him—there was a growing spell in them, and they should still fit on Monday. She mentioned it and was shocked at how he changed. "Mum, they were horrible! Full of lace and even the house elves couldn't get all the mold out of them! I had to get rid of them, everyone laughed at me in them!"
"Oh, no…" she moaned. "I didn't…"
"Didn't what?" he said.
"Come with me right now," she commanded, and up the stairs they went, till they were in the attic. She muttered a quick spell to keep the ghoul out of their way and headed towards the long trunks and boxes. Most of those were old Weasley family things, though her hope chest was still full of small linens, now put away and waiting for grandchildren.
"Ronald, Ronald, how can you forgive me?" She opened the lid of a long box and nearly chewed her knuckles in dismay. "I sent you the wrong one, I can't believe I was so stupid…" The Lumos from her wand showed a smartly-styled set of dress robes, in black with only a hint of blue, the color of her youngest son's eyes, in the piping. "This was what I meant to send, I can't believe you received those horrible old things of your uncle's? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought…I thought we were too poor to have any better," Ron said, his face now flushed.
"Well, there are five inches' more growth in these, I paid extra so you could wear them for a while," Molly said. "What you must think of me! Take these, and welcome, Oh, Bridget, I swear I'll never stint you again. I knew you had nothing but hand-me-downs for the last several years, and I meant to make it up all at once…"
This time, he let her howl on him for a bit. She levitated the box with the good robes in them down the stairs, there was that tricky turn to the left there…and she took the box straight to the room he shared with Harry. "Let me know if you've outgrown the shoes, I can extend them a little, though I made them be generous with the fit," she said briskly. Berating herself now would only make her son feel bad, and that wasn't right after this.
"Yes, Mum," he said with a choke in his voice. "But…what happens without Dad's pay for this house?"
"We have more laid by than you think, and you are not to worry about it," she said, though she hadn't a clue right now what they were to do. "That's my job now. We didn't spend all that prize on the trip to Egypt, even though the paper made it sound like we did."
Ron breathed a huge sigh of relief. "All right, Mum, I won't worry. But just say the word, and I'll quit school to work in the twins' shop or somewhere else, since they wouldn't pay me the same as someone outside the family."
"I expect not," Molly said, aghast. "But you are to stay in school, Ronald, or I'll know the reason why. I want more for you than driving the Knight Bus the way that Shunpike fellow does. If nothing else, I'll take you to a chess tournament and bet on you to win all the way. Your father picked up a little from time to time at them, and you have the game in your blood like no one else in the family does."
Ron laughed, weakly. "I'll do us proud if that ever happens. Oh, Mum! What is to become of us?"
"We're still the Weasley family, and we'll have Christmas just like we always do. No excuses and no staying at the school this year to keep Harry company the way you have. And bring little Hermione, too, I'm sure she feels left out just now."
Ron had a look of panic in his eyes. "I'd better write her a note! She'd like that better than anything and will probably write me half a book in return."
"Hmm….well, Lockhart earned well from writing books," Molly said. "You'd best keep on her good side, or she might write one about you!" She thought about Rita Skeeter, who by her clothes wasn't starving herself.
Her son laughed, though there was still the sound of tears in it. With that, Molly went downstairs and prepared herself for the twins. Though there was no sense in it—they'd overwhelm a herd of Hippogriffs.
But this time, they were quiet. Both of them. This happened so rarely that Molly could count the number of times it had happened on the fingers of one hand. "Oh, dear," she said. "Your father was so proud of you. He never stopped telling me about your shop in Hogsmeade and now the one in the Alley. A good thing you are twins, or you'd never be able to manage both."
"Wasn't so proud of us last summer," Fred said in a mumble, as he looked down at the floor.
"He didn't tell you?" said George.
"No, and I don't need to hear it now," Molly said. If something was so bad that Arthur had felt he needed to shame them, she thought it was better for them to worry about her finding out. "If you do anything like it again, then I will know," she added. "But I know you miss him, however hard you try not to show it. I still have two shoulders, one for each of you, and when you need to lean on them, I'll be strong enough even if you outweigh me."
"Anything you ask, Mum," said George. "Anything," echoed Fred. There was a lot of relief in their voices and Molly made up her mind to find out just what these two had done this time.
"Then I ask you to not make Percy's life hell when he comes here," she said sternly. "No matter how funny you think it is. He's working for Madame Umbridge now, and you showering him with Dungbombs won't help him there. Showering her with them would be even worse. They are both likely to be here on Monday, and if he's not here before then, I'll have a quiet talk with him anyway that day. He's still your brother, and I will talk to Charlie about that as well. For once don't drive him away."
"But, Mum, we know what he said at Harry's hearing!"
"So do I, because I was there. And he was partly right. I left you with him when he was only a baby himself, because I was so worn out with Ronald and Ginny. I remember when you thought he hung the moon. When did you stop?"
They babbled about this thing and the other thing till she silenced them. "He's allowed to have a life of his own, and not spend it being your bear-leader. It was always two against one with him, wasn't it?"
Both boys hung their heads and muttered but didn't deny it. "So there. Yes, he's chosen his own path for now. But don't you dare make me lose him now by the way you treat him. I don't know everything that he's up to now, but I don't know that with Charlie or Bill, either. Just because he's chosen not to leave the country like they have doesn't mean you have the right to force him to. He could, you know. Gringotts would hire him the moment he left the Ministry if he felt like working with the goblins the way Bill does, and he could spend the rest of his life in Switzerland if he pleased. Don't make him want to."
There was silence at that. She hoped it meant they were listening for once. "Well, lads, the offer of one shoulder each is still open for now. If you feel like it, nobody will know it from me."
George laid his head down on the left one, and Fred on the right, the sides they had chosen since birth. Molly was glad she was braced in a chair for the weight of them. Soon they were shaking with silent grief,
After a bit, she took out her handkerchief and had them blow in it. "I know you miss your Dad, boys. I miss him too. Now go on out and send in Charlie, and please don't turn your father's body any color but what he's already got."
That brought soft laughter from both of them, as she had hoped—although she rather hoped she hadn't given them ideas. Ah, they've already thought of it, I'm sure…
She snuffled a bit and freshened up the handkerchief. She'd have need of it soon, even if her two oldest boys didn't.
Charlie came in, slumped and sullen, and nearly refused to sit down. "Oh, Charlie, I understand you most of all, I think," she said, as she stood and opened her arms. "Will you let me lean on you a bit? I know you're furious at everything, I still am too. Arthur and I were supposed to age together like those two trees the Greeks talk about, and here I am without him."
He couldn't say no to that—and as he hugged her, she hugged him right back. She understood him better than Arthur did, in some ways. If Charlie had been a girl, he might have gone running in the forest along with her own mum and Shirl. No wonder he did so well with dragons, especially the bad-tempered ones.
He calmed under her touch, and then suddenly had to sit down. His sobs were probably audible all through the house, but it didn't matter. Some hurts were better taken out in tears than anger, though most men didn't think so. "There, there, he loved you just as dearly as ever even last summer when things looked so bad," she crooned. "I love you too, I have a horrible temper, too. I yell all the time…"
"Not all the time," he said, his voice muffled by tears.
"Enough," she said. "I'm not allowed to go play with dragons, see, and have to take it out some other way…"
"Come visit sometime," he said gruffly. "You can't be in the war all the time, can you? Can't lose you…"
"What would You-Know-Who want with me but another cuppa and scones?" she teased back. "Those others, they have me go wash dishes in the kitchen when they talk about anything serious." She hoped lots of people believed that one.
"But He will go through anyone to kill Harry, and I know you would stand in front," he said.
"Just like I would stand in front of you," she said, knowing how jealous Charlie really was. She feared he would have said much the same as Percy had at the hearing, if he had been asked to testify.
"Oh, mum, that's what I'm afraid of," he said.
In her heart, she feared it too—but if someone tried to destroy any of her children, she would still stand that way no matter how her heart quaked. That was what mothers did. She would rather not die the way Lily Potter did—but she would make the same choice. Though she hoped she had better sense! Even now, in the heart of her family at a wake, she carried her wand where she could find it quickly.
"Then bring some of your dragons back home when we call," she said softly. "Oh, Charlie, I really am part maenad, and that means you have a share of that blood too. How can I be upset at your anger when I feel it just as much sometimes? I have only one thing to ask, my darling. I know you hate it that Percy isn't here. But don't go after him on Monday. We…we have to know what the Ministry is up to, and with Arthur no longer there…who do you think will be our eyes and ears there? I have to be cold to him, so others will talk where he can hear, but oh, please, Charlie, don't fight with him. You can ignore him, you can glare at him, but don't make his burden too great for him to bear."
"It's always Percy with you!"
She knew that old jealousy. Percy had been born after several miscarriages, when she feared that Bill and Charlie were going to be all she was to have. "It's you, too. You know that I've always loved you. I tried to stand between you and Arthur those years before you left us for the dragons. Even though I didn't think they were right for you, I know better now. Come home to us for a little while without anger, love. If you must, go out into the woods and shiver out some firewood, we always need more anyway. If I can scream at the pigs when I want to lay about with my wooden spoon, then you can do this much."
He sighed. "Yes, Mum."
"Go out on a broom with the others. Harry thinks he's the best, so show him what an older brother can do." She knew that would spur him on.
"Hmmph. Where does—did—Dad keep the old Snitch?"
"Out in the back shed with his Muggle gear, though Heaven only knows what he might have done to it," Molly said. "I…I can't bear going out there, not yet."
"Of course not, Mum, I'll take care of it."
She knew Charlie would be all right now, after hearing that note of pride in his voice. She sent him out to have Bill come in.
Bill was a man, now. It would likely be too much to ask him to weep on his mum's shoulder, but she had it ready if he wanted it.
They both sat down and looked at each other.
"I'm the man of the family, now," he said, sober—or more so—as a judge.
"Yes, love, you are. I will ask a great deal of you for the next few weeks. Will Gringotts give you the time?"
"They will or they'll hear from me about it," he said grimly.
"You should be able to return to work after Christmas, but I will need you till then," she said. "I know how to do the household accounts, and to play the pools, but I don't know goblins or their business. We hid more of the prize money than people think, but I'm not sure how long it will have to stretch. The house…I think Arthur had insurance on it, so that should be clear, but that will depend on what the bank thinks, too."
"What about, er, what about your other business?"
"That business has to have its gold go for it," she said. "Harry inherited all that his godfather had, save for a bit for Mr. Lupin, and there's the house of course, but that might be a problem, as well, considering the other relatives that Sirius had. I'm glad to give what I can to it, even with just cooking and cleaning. You are not to speak to the Headmaster about it—but don't worry, if it means keeping this place for your inheritance, and keeping Ronald and Ginny in school, I'll light the old wizard's beard on fire myself," she said with what she hoped was a light tone.
"Harry has a lot in his vault he doesn't even know about," Bill said.
"Yes. But if he gives me a Knut, everyone will know I wanted his guardianship for that and not for him. I'll find a way." Even if she had to find some rich old wizard who wanted a plump darling in his bed and kitchen. And…Xeno was hopeless with money, but with proper management, the Quibbler didn't have to lose money every month. But she wouldn't even think of such a thing unless matters were truly desperate.
"Ah…Mum, I hate to ask this, but one of the goblins teased me about you being the top beneficiary in someone else's will." Bill was almost stuttering.
"I have no idea who that would be," she said, though she lied. Would Snape do something like that just because of a lustful fever dream? Albus had assured her that he'd done the same spell on him that he'd done for Moody. "And I have never been untrue to your father, Bill. Not since the day we tested out the pitch behind the scoring shed." Her face felt hot all the way out to the tips of her ears.
"Well, Snaptooth did tell me the fellow left blood to swear nothing had happened," Bill said, but looked happier than he had before.
"Well, then. You and I can go over the books and papers and see what there is to be seen," Molly said. "And…if you want to cry on my shoulder over this, you have only to ask. I'm still your mum, even if you are more than a foot taller."
"I will," Bill said. "But I'll wait till the house is a bit less crowded. For now, I'll go on out and make sure all is well and that the twins haven't set fire to the drapes again. But who will you lean on, Mum?"
"Why, Nanny Ogg, of course. She's twice the witch I'll ever be and has buried more husbands than Madam Zabini. But they were all smiling in their coffins, or so I'm told."
That made Bill laugh, as it was meant to.
Molly just sat by herself for a moment, preparing herself for the neighbors, well-wishers, and some who just wanted a gossip and a pie. Oh, Arthur, whatever am I going to do without you?
Once she was done, she got out and sent a message by owl. Someone had to remember Snape; for all she knew, he might be dead now as well.