Widows' Walk

by excessivelyperky

Everyone is making Christmas lists, from Snape to the Trio to Albus to Voldemort. (well, so is everyone else, but it would be a really long chapter if I mentioned them).

6. Chapter 6: Saying Farewell

I really, really apologize for taking this long. Thank you so much to BlueWater5 who beta'd this much more quickly than I got around to editing and incorporating her helpful changes. I have been working in the tax preparation industry (April 15th is coming, yay), working on original work, and otherwise sucked into other activities. But I hope you appreciate this chapter.

Chapter 6: Saying Farewell

Harry felt horribly out of place, even with him being adopted by this family, but stuck to Ron as much as possible. He'd wanted to run away the moment he saw Skeeter come in but thought that his new mum should have to right to Petrify her, or whatever. He was really surprised not to hear any explosions or screaming, and when she walked out with Mum talking to her, he was amazed. He still ducked for cover, though, in case she wanted to interview him.

He didn't know what to think about the way Molly had talked to him in that little room in back of the kitchen, though. His shields had been acting weird ever since he and Ron and Ginny had been called to the Headmaster's office. The three of them had been laughed at by Hermione for the homework thing earlier in the day, even though it wasn't as true as it used to be, and they had even listened to her when she brutally assigned them reading material. Quidditch was about over, but the team had planned to get together on Saturday or Sunday.

He loved the Weasleys, and his heart ached at losing his new dad. But things just didn't feel right without Hermione here. He almost wished that she could be blood-adopted, too, if she and Ron never ended up together.

There were so many people coming in and out, and he didn't know any of them, but he helped out wherever he could. He was good at doing dishes, even though he didn't know how to wash them magically the way his mum could, so when she was busy talking to people, he'd sneak into the kitchen and wash up. There were always more, plus there was a ton of food coming in. He had to ask Ginny what to do with it, since they didn't have a Muggle refrigerator here. She shot him a grateful look, and showed him the special cupboard where food could stay preserved without going bad. She also kept the twins from coming in and ragging him about doing women's work, or whatever, which he was also grateful for. They kept wandering around, looking for something or someone to have fun with. Harry wished it was Monday, so all this could be over and his heart might stop feeling like a washrag someone had stepped on.

The next few days came and went in a blur. Harry didn't know what to think about the funeral being postponed till Thursday, though when he heard that the Ministry had some special stuff they needed to take care of to show their solidarity, or whatever, it made him feel a little bit better. Ron was horrible to be around, though; he wasn't eating or sleeping, and that wasn't like Ron at all.

Ginny asked them for help with the pigs in the barn, since Molly wasn't remembering things very well. Harry could only imagine how hard it must be for her—if he loved someone for that long, he didn't know how he would feel. Even the best shields wouldn't help much with that much hurt. He did hurt…but he wasn't sure who he could talk to. Ron was nearly out of his mind, Charlie went around looking like he wanted to hit something, the twins were hexing each other for a change, and Bill seemed really busy with lots of things. He knew Ginny was just trying to cover up, and it wouldn't be fair to lean on her when she probably wanted someone to lean on, too. So he washed dishes, cleaned the extra tables someone brought in, and made sure everyone had something to eat. All those lessons learned at Aunt Petunia's hard hands were finally paying off.

Then he thought about laundry, and he asked Ginny about that, too. Surprisingly, she had no clue about that, and Harry didn't see anything that looked like a Muggle washing machine anywhere. There was probably some kind of magic for that, too, but he didn't know it. The hampers around the Burrow were getting pretty full. "I wish we had a house elf here," he thought out loud to himself.

Wait! If he was Sirius Black's heir…once he thought about it, he called out "Kreacher!"

The grouchy house elf appeared. "What does Master want?" he asked with a sneer.

Harry took a deep breath. If he could talk to Professor Snape, he could talk to this elf. "Your master would like you to take care of the dirty clothes in this house, and return them in good condition. My godfather, Sirius Black, always had clean clothes, and didn't smell bad unless he was drinking. You must have done a good job with him."

Kreacher turned his glowering down a notch or two. "Suppose there's a ton of it, and all has to be done a minute," he grumbled.

"Yes, there is a lot, but if you can do them in a day or so, that would be nice." Harry knew he had to hold his ground with this elf. "And I don't want you to tell anybody else about this, either."

Kreacher sighed, a huge, martyred sigh. "Kreacher can do it, even with blood traitors' clothing. Why can't Blood Traitor Mistress do it?"

"Her heart is broken," Harry said flatly. Molly really did try to remember to care for her children, including him, but the occasional blankness in her eyes terrified him.

"Oh." Kreacher bowed his head. Then he disappeared, along with one hamper of laundry. The elf popped in and out at various times during the day, and left clean, folded laundry on the bed of each person it belonged to—it was weird how Kreacher knew whose stuff was whose.

By evening it was all done, and nobody the wiser. "Kreacher, what would you like to eat?" Harry asked. People were still bringing in food.

"Oh, Kreacher lives on scraps…" the elf whined.

"Nobody's going to miss a plate of anything around here," Harry said, and grabbed for an empty plate and some silverware. "I'm hungry, too, so sit down and eat with me."

"Why isn't Master out there with the others?" the elf asked, in a tone that was almost civil.

"I don't know hardly any of those people, and I'd just be stared at as the Boy Who Lived. Nobody believes me, but it's awful sometimes." He quickly set two places at the table that had been brought down from the attic. "So, what would you like?"

Kreacher stared at him. "Not right for Master to serve!"

"Then you go ahead, but I am ordering you to have some, too, but only what you like." He had seen Snape giving Winky orders, and being that careful with it, too.

Kreacher's bluster expired like a popped balloon. He sagged, and looked older than Harry had ever seen any house elf. The little fellow slowly heaped Harry's plate high, and put only a little on his own. He even sat down at the table when Harry told him too.

The elf was silent, and ate slowly, with suspicious moisture at the corners of his large, rheumy eyes. Harry was quiet, too, though he had trouble cleaning his plate—he was hungry, but not that much, but didn't want Kreacher thinking he was turning down what the elf had given to him.

Soon both of them were done, and the elf leaped to the sink and cleaned the plates and silverware, plus a few cups that were already in the sink. "Call when this is full again, Master, even Mudblood Masters shouldn't work like this."

Harry didn't like that term, but was confused. "Both of my parents were magical, though. Doesn't that make me more, um, something than Hermione?"

"Of course, Master, you not pureblood but close. Mudblood girl gets into books at Grimmauld Place, should know better! Bad for her!"

"I'll let her know. Thank you, Kreacher." He would have to ask someone if some of the books at his godfather's place were unsafe for her. The elf might be telling the truth.

Kreacher popped away.

Harry was still angry with the elf for betraying Sirius, but he had never asked Kreacher why he'd done it. Then again, he had been around when his godfather had tossed things at the elf's head, or kicked the small creature when he went by and was near enough for it. I should have said something, then, he thought. But I didn't want to think that he was doing anything wrong. Besides, Sirius would have laughed it off and said I was ignorant, or something.

He still missed the man, but had a clearer idea that Sirius wasn't perfect by any means. He must have hated being a prisoner of that awful house—I know I would. Why didn't he go outside more in the garden when the weather wasn't too bad? Or maybe he did when we didn't have Order meetings. True, the garden in back hadn't been all that big, not like the fields around Ottery St. Catchpole.

Harry was so desperate for something to do he even looked at a couple of his books. But that was only when it was too rainy to go out and fly, though the Weasley brooms were in pretty bad shape. He imagined going Accio, broom, for his own, and thought about the consternation everywhere as it traveled all the way from Hogwarts to here. Probably a bad idea, even if he could make it work.

But it wasn't all housework. By Monday, Ron was ready to start eating again, and had stopped sitting up all night by the hearth all white-faced and trembling. They went out on the family brooms that day, and Harry had been able to show even Bill a few things, though Charlie had some moves that Harry asked his new brother to teach him. They talked while going through the loops and side-slips that could make all the different in cutting down the distance to the Snitch. "No matter how good you are, and how many times you catch the Snitch, you can't win a game all by yourself," Charlie said with a sad smile. "Of course, the game is often over if you do, but not always. Krum caught a lot for Bulgaria, but Ireland still won during the World Cup your fourth year."

"Supposedly I am supposed to win a really big game by myself," Harry said. The Headmaster had been clear on the Prophecy, but some of it didn't make any sense. Of course he and Voldemort couldn't both survive, both of them were trying really hard to kill each other. But he didn't like the link between them, and would rather break it now, than try to use it to sneak into Voldie's mind. Even though I saved my dad once by it, he thought with sorrow.

"Screw that," Charlie said. "If you think you can keep us Weasleys from standing beside you in this scrum, you're out of your mind. Even Percy, maybe…" He looked sad.

"He tried to warn Ron to stay out of the Toad's way," Harry said, thinking about that letter. "I probably should have listened, too. All I got out of that was this scar…" He showed Charlie the I must not tell lies on his arm, though it was fading these days. "Hermione tried to tell me to shut up and sit down, and she was the first one to be pissed off by Umbridge not teaching us anything but lies herself. Weird how all she got for detention was cleaning those cat plates, and the boys had to do those horrible lines…"

Charlie shook his head. "Don't ask me, I never met the woman. I don't see how Percy can stand working for her. But…and don't pass this on…maybe he's there so he can listen to her, you know? The twins told me about this prank that Perfect Percy is dreaming up to play there at the Ministry, and he wouldn't do that if he…if he was really bad, or anything."

Harry didn't worry about Percy nearly as much as everyone else seemed to, but agreed that things might be different than they seem. Snape sure was, and so was the Headmaster, for that matter. But it made sense—who would talk to Percy if they thought he was an Order member? Or would You-Know-Who tell Snape anything unless he thought the professor was on his side? Though thinking about all this made Harry wonder who in the Order might be pretending, too. When the Headmaster stopped by for a short visit, he mentioned that, and was told that Moody was in charge of those precautions. But then, Harry thought of the time that Moody hadn't been himself, either, so that didn't help as much as the old wizard probably thought it had.

"Harry, dear," called Molly from the parlor. "Nanny Ogg wants to talk to you…"

He rolled his eyes. The old woman, who wasn't a lot taller than Kreacher when he thought about it, had been looking at him like he was a plant in the garden she wasn't sure was a weed or not. He'd better go see what she wanted. She was nicer than Aunt Marge, though that wasn't hard.

Percy smiled and nodded till he thought his head would come off. Then he went home, again, and made notes of all the conversations he'd had that day. Moody said it was good training, and that you never knew what might be important, till he thought his head would come off smiling and nodding at him.

People didn't know whether or not to be sympathetic with him or not at the Ministry, and he didn't try to fix that, either. Even Umbridge eyed him doubtfully, like he was a dungbomb ready to go off. He thought he was numb, through and through, till he went home and found a card on his tiny kitchen table. It was in an envelope bordered in black, like the kind the rich purebloods used. He sighed, and waved his wand at it. No, it was all right that way, though he wouldn't have been surprised if the twins had boobytrapped it.

He opened…and out came a gray and blue card, offering sympathy in a handwriting he didn't think he recognized. I lost my father when I was much younger, but I still missed him a great deal. Even if you and your father didn't agree on things, I know losing him will be hard on you.

Yrs, Peter Pettigrew

At that he burst into tears and had to use the dish-towel to mop them up. Once the storm was over, he washed his face with cold water, and then forced himself to eat and drink, though everything tasted like ashes. I have to do something, he thought. I have to do something so Mum doesn't hate me, too, though she had to sound like it when Dad died in front of the healer. He went through his gear in this horrible flat and didn't find anything that would suit. Then he found an old handkerchief that used to be Dad's, and that Percy had always kept. Oh, wait, there was that Muggle toy Dad had gotten him, too, and which Percy had somehow kept the twins from destroying with so much else. He pulled out the elderly stuffed bear, which had been named Percy, too, and which still had both eyes. Moody would call him childish to keep anything like that, and so he would give them away, because Mum would need them more right now than he did. He felt like he was tearing up his heart by packing them up, though. I can't do this! he thought. And then he hit on a way so Mum wouldn't think he was just throwing old rubbish out the door. He wrote a note in his own handwriting, but with a different signature, and owled it off to the Burrow. Mum would know what he meant.

Molly received another gift, though it was the second one with Moody's name on it. He had already sent a Foe-Glass, which she hoped she wouldn't need, but didn't mind having anyway. She checked it, of course, she still had some of her mind left, and it seemed all right. When she opened it, though, her heart fell out. She had dozens of those handkerchiefs, but she would recognize that sad little bear on her deathbed. She bit her lip, and forced herself to read the note that came with it.

Dear Mrs. Weasley, it began, though she knew Percy's hand from twenty feet. For one thing, you could actually read it. A friend of mine wanted me to pass on this memento, and to ask you to keep it safe, as he plans to pick it up again someday. May you have many happy memories of times past, and better hopes for the future.

Alastor Moody, Auror (ret.)

P.S. Please destroy the note. Constant vigilance!

She almost smiled, but then made herself frown, and tossed the note into the hearth. She made sure it was well gone before moving away from the flames. Percy had just about caught how Moody wrote, but she had received the right message. This would go up into the attic next to the ghoul's nest, and since it wasn't edible, would be safer there than anyplace else her family was likely to go. No matter what face her third son wore these days, she knew where his heart was. There was the funeral to get through, but after that, she'd stay busy preparing for Christmas.

Snape felt quite strange for the next few days, and knew it was just as well that Albus was gone from Hogwarts for them. They were likely to tangle each other badly if they met before the different timestreams converged. He wasn't uncomfortable around Minerva, since their streams had already been put together before he had come back from Hogsmeade. But he sensed that she, and nearly everyone else at Hogwarts, was uncomfortable around him—more than usual, anyway. Winky was the only one who seemed unfazed by it all. When he had attempted to explain to her what had happened, she just said, "I takes care of you. Easier here than away, but doesn't matter. Everything all right not long from now."

He wished he shared her sunny outlook. Arthur Weasley was still dead, and a heavy weight on his soul. He wasn't sleeping or eating well again, and starting to build up a head of anger towards his idiot students, even though they were remarkably subdued under the circumstances. Even Draco wasn't pulling anything really stupid for once, which he appreciated, and Miss Granger staying silent for a change, which he appreciated even more. Mr. Longbottom, on the other hand, was showing a disturbing amount of self-confidence with his drawings, though from a cursory inspection, his 'map' of the Wolfsbane Potion was beginning to shape into something less than Malfoy Manor as seen by Escher and into something more like what a brewer could use.

And then, on Tuesday evening, he suddenly felt much better. He saw Albus back up at the head table in the Great Hall, too, but wasn't called into to talk. That was just as well, since he had a stack of essays that threatened to totter and spill over. He was able to speak to Poppy, though, and get another list of potions that the infirmary needed. "I feel better, too," she said as she handed the paper over as they sat in her office. "I felt dizzy off and on for the last several days, and I didn't even have to take your potions to do so. Perhaps I've just been handling it too much, but the Headmaster really shouldn't. He was caught in quite a nasty loop when he was younger, and if what you say is true, he probably felt things worse this last week. I am glad I talked him into leaving Hogwarts for the past few days. I expect everything will settle down now."

"I hope so." Snape downed his own lot of potions for the evening, except for the sedative, which he would take just at bedtime. "I just wish that every student used a Quick-Quotes Quill or at least decided to print—I spend more time trying to figure out what they said than cutting them down for their stupidity…"

"Yes, Minerva sings the same song, though she's a bit nicer about it," Poppy said. "But I want you to spend a half hour at a time correcting, taking a break, and then another half hour at a time. You may have some vision changes with this new batch, and eyestrain is the last thing you need at this point in time."

"Ah, the delight of new side effects, just when I have learned to deal with the old ones! At least I won't be bored…"

"You will be if you can't read for some reason," Poppy said tartly. "I have already told Winky, so don't even try to ignore me. She's getting much better at telling time than she used to be, so please don't confuse her by trying to play with the clocks."

"You are ahead of me yet again," Snape said. Although the prospect of only spending a half hour at a time on essays with a break didn't sound like such a bad one. He wondered if he could borrow one of Professor Binn's elves—all of his could read out loud if necessary, and put down corrections and comments for him.

Poppy lowered her voice. "I know that it will be hard for you on Thursday, when the funeral is being held. I tried to ask Albus to have classes canceled, if only so you could go to it along with Minerva, but unfortunately, he's right that most of the students here aren't really involved and it would establish a bad precedent."

"Too many funerals, not enough classroom time," he said mordantly.

"Yes. However, I would like to point out that you do seem to have about an hour break in the late morning when you are supposed to breathe fresh air anyway. No one would question if you felt you needed to breathe the air somewhere else. The actual ceremony will be in the afternoon, as more Order members can come at that time, and of course the Ministers wish to send off one of their own, but you will be able to pay your respects before it. I have a good idea why you want to avoid going there, but it won't help. And if you feel you must cancel the class after that break for any reason, I will be delighted to write a note about any side-effects from the potions that you're taking. This office is fairly sound proof. Albus, of course, will be gone for the ceremony, but this will be hard on him. I know the Weasleys and think the world of Molly, but we have already had our little cry this last weekend." Her eyes looked rather moist as she talked about it.

"You should go in the afternoon," he said. "I can have my afternoon lie-down break up here and terrify the fakers without having to sit up."

"Oh…that…that would be lovely," Poppy said, as she took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. "Thank you."

Snape glanced away. Expressions of gratitude were still rare in his life, and he planned to savor each one. He had much more to savor than he used to, he realized that, but some of this was still new to him.

He left the Infirmary, still holding the list, and went back down to the dungeons and almost did not notice the way the students still made sure he had a wide berth. Almost—he hadn't become that soft yet.

Then he looked at the list, compared it to his class schedule, and decided his fourth-year students were up to the challenge for most of it—fortunately, the ingredients for most of the potions were fairly inexpensive, so having the little darlings ruin them wouldn't cost Hogwarts too dear. He had no idea how Bellwood had managed his budget at all, considering how much he allowed his students to pilfer for their private projects. Snape was proud that he had cut down on that quite a bit over the years, save for the kind that his female students often needed on a regular basis. It still rankled that he'd thought Mr. Potter had been after the boomslang skin again for Polyjuice, but given that the boy had been guilty two years prior, he didn't feel too upset about it.

Snape remembered Barty Crouch Jr.—the boy had been nearly as mad as the grown man had turned out to be, and everyone tried quite hard to make sure the paths of that young man and Bellatrix Black had not crossed more than necessary. Between her opinions of the Ministry, and Barty's utter confidence that he was more brilliant than any other Slytherin student in the history of the school, it was bound to not work out well. Fortunately, she was gone long before Barty had tried for twelve OWLs, or she would certainly have incinerated him. How she had managed to avoid it during Snape's own early Death Eater days was still a mystery.

He glanced at the essays, and decided to what he called a speed-run through them. He would sort them into readable and non-readable first, and whip through the readable ones and leave the illegible ones for later, possibly much later. Every once in a while, he had a student who could not read their own writing, such as Ronald Weasley, and he would direct them to print their essays from then on. Why wasn't there a system of decent primary schools for magical folk he did not know.

Winky had been informed of the new regime, traitorous little thing, and tapped him gently on the shoulder after the first half hour was up. Fortunately for her, she also bore a small dish of ice cream that made the sour taste in his mouth from his evening potions go away, so he only snarled at her a little bit.

He stood up from his special grading chair, though he would much rather have leaned back and gone to sleep in it, but those essays were not going away any time soon (in fact, he thought they were breeding while his back was turned).

After pacing around a bit, he sat back down, somewhat refreshed. He brightened the charm in the room light a bit more, as his eyes were trying to cross, though Miss Harshaw's essay on mushrooms made his eyebrows raise even higher. She either had a brilliant career in store as a poisoner or a very short one as a potioneer, and he wasn't sure which one at this point.

At last he couldn't distract himself from his grief or any guilt any longer. He stacked the finished essays in his out basket, and eyed the still-high tower of the remaining ones in dismay. But he would probably have better luck calling in the ones with the worst writing and have them read the offending pieces of paper instead of half-killing himself trying to figure out what in blazes they actually wrote.

Yes, he may as well grieve here, in private, and let any acid tears fall where they may out of sight of anyone else. He would have enough of an ordeal a couple of days from now.

Bill Weasley went through his father's ledger and sighed in dismay. He knew that his parents weren't nearly as poor as they used to be, since they no longer had all seven of them at home to feed and clothe. Ginny had to have new things, being a girl, and Ron certainly deserved better than hand-me-downs after having to wear so many nearly worn to rags as he was growing up. After the twins were done with something, it usually wasn't any good any more as it was. But he couldn't make head nor tail of the deposits and receipts from Gringotts, and he jolly well worked there. There were payments going out for the house, plus a small extra—would that be insewerants? The bank had started issuing policies a couple of centuries ago, but most wizards didn't go in for them. Bill rather hoped his father had but didn't know the goblin in charge that well. Snaptooth was considered slightly unreliable and a little too prone to take the pureblood point of view by older, more settled goblins—the fellow was less than a hundred years old, after all, and such youngsters were occasionally viewed with suspicion. Bill had a pretty good idea of what they thought of him, but as long as he was amenable to clearing out dodgy mausoleums and dealing with foreign sprites, they were more than happy to let him.

But what had happened to about half of the football pool money? Surely the family hadn't spent it all on that trip to Egypt—mainly to see him, he realized later on. The Portkey wasn't that expensive, though travel between continents did cost more than within them, and he didn't think that his family would spend that much on food and drink, even with so many of them.

Then he froze as he looked at an entry a few years further back. Dad had gone into debt big time, even re-mortgaging the house…for his apprenticeship there at the bank. Bill knew, of course, that the goblins didn't like hiring humans save on a contract basis, but there it was, a true, full apprenticeship that would eventually put him on a par with the goblins—well, if he lived long enough. Though that was doubtful these days. The football pool money had merely paid part of his apprenticeship fee off, while still leaving the mortgage, though it looked like that had also been nearly paid off in the last year or two. He really itched to look through the records at Gringotts itself, to find out if their figures matched his father's. Bless you, Mum, for insisting on playing the pools even though Dad didn't really like it at the time. I'm glad I helped you set up your betting book, so you could show him that you weren't really spending that much. We would be in a world of hurt indeed if you hadn't won. There was gossip that someone at the Ministry somehow knew about Mum's bets and somehow made the Quidditch season come out the way they needed to for that high a prize, but other people have won it, too—it wasn't a one-off, which would stink on ice. If someone wanted Dad to have a lot of money, they went to a lot of trouble. Plus, it was in public. I didn't hear any complaints, and neither did any of the goblins at the time.

But yes, it had hurt Mum and Dad big time for them to enter him on a true apprenticeship. I wish they'd done it for Percy instead—his job at the Ministry is driving him away from us. I'll have to sit on Charlie, I suppose, if and when he shows up with the rest of the crowd on Thursday. Plus, the goblin I work with has already said it's a pity they only have one of us, and that Perce is much more suited to their work than I am. They're right, of course. He'd be happy as a pig in wallow to sit with those ledgers all day and make sure everything balances right. But then, the twins would make trouble for him there, too, and the goblins would be less forgiving than the Ministry has been so far.

Bill sighed. He didn't know what a widow's pension from the Ministry ran to these days, or if it would cover the basic expenses that Mum had these days. Keeping up the house didn't run that much, though she'd be better off once the mortgage was gone. He resolved to have a talk with Charlie and see if the two of them could come with enough to pay the last bit off. Making sure Ron and Ginny stayed in school, and had good clothing and decent books for once, well, that cost, too, though not as much as the year when that fool Lockhart had been there. Mum had gone completely off her head then over that idiot's looks. Bill mused, It served him right, what happened to him. Memory charms were the only thing keeping his career going, and I swear, if it had been Ron's arm he'd disappeared, the twins would have made sure he didn't have a head to put his memories, or anybody else's in.

Harry. Well, if push came to shove, he'd help out even if he had to be sneaky about it. Once he was seventeen, he'd have all rights to do with his money as he pleased, and could sell that ghastly Grimmauld Place, shrieking portrait and all, back to the Blacks for a pretty Knut or two. He had only met Sirius Black a few times and was glad he hadn't been required to be there. Of course Harry thought the earth of the man, being his godfather and all, and Sirius was usually on his best behavior around the boy, but he had never grudged Snape his sneers after hearing the gross jokes between Black and Moody about the potions master.

He remembered his own time in Potions—Bellwood had been his teacher his first year, and that had been horribly boring. In retaliation for it, he'd subjected the old man to a series of pranks that he'd heard some group called the Marauders had pulled not too long before him. That had stopped when his dad had sent him a blistering letter about not becoming a bully.

And it had really stopped when he'd had Snape the next year. Snape had not been that much older than the seventh years but had instilled a reign of terror and despair that had every student gasping for breath and too terrified to plot revenge. Well, at least in class. Back in the common room, one of the students had told a horrible tale of something his older brother had seen, of the current Potions Master being turned upside down and stripped for the edification of the crowd. Bill had gulped and realized what his dad would do to him if he had even thought about doing something like that anybody. One student had tried to hex Snape from behind, only to find out that the young man had eyes there, too—his description of his detention with Filch had been ghastly enough that pretty much everyone had decided not to risk it.

He'd learned a lot more for settling down and paying attention, too. He and his fellows then on had entertained other students with brags about what they would do to Snape after the Leaving Feast their last year, of course—although watching Snape at the next one with his cold eyes seeing through their souls had convinced most people not to try anything. And even then, one idiot who had thought to do something had ended up so Petrified so fast that nobody had even seen the professor's wand come out.

They had also learned to leave the smaller Slytherins alone. Even though nobody might see something happen, or a prefect who didn't care too much was around, Snape somehow always knew who was involved, and detentions with him were just about as pleasant as opening a tomb where there had been rather too much moisture among the remains. Then again, his detentions had been very good training for such situations.

He looked at his dad's ledgers again. He would have to take them down to Gringotts and compare them, but he thought that as long as the mortgage could be taken care of, Mum ought to do just fine. She didn't spend that much on herself, though appreciative of presents from all and sundry, and Order work would keep her busy. After the war…well, that could take care of by herself. Mum was a young woman by wizarding standards, though Bill hated the thought that she might marry someone else. That would have to be a decision that she would have to make, though Bill knew nobody wouldn't like anyone thinking she could replace Dad.

He lay his head down and allowed a few secret tears to leak out. Mum needed to lean on him, no matter what she said about her shoulder still open to him, even at his age. Well, he would probably marry, if he lived, and Mum would always have a home with him if need be. He just hoped she wouldn't be too bored, since she was used to dealing with a crowd all the time

Time. That was something that many of them didn't have, not in this war.

Charlie twitched. The weather had been too foul to fly today, and tomorrow promised a real downpour. Tomorrow was when Dad would go into the ground. Lots of wizards burned these days, what with Inferi and all, but the winter was damp, there wouldn't be much of Dad left anyway if the Petrify spell wore out. He didn't know what to think of that. It would be cleaner and better to send someone into the fire at their end, but the Weasleys belonged to the earth, too. Well, some of them. He knew he didn't.

He was surprised at how much Mum understood his bad temper, though he'd been on the other end of the Wooden Spoon of Doom enough to feel her own. He didn't know that sons ever got maenad blood, either, but he wasn't surprised.

Oh, damn, he was going to have to be nice to Percy tomorrow, and he hated the idea. Ever since the little brat had been born, he'd been an annoying tag-a-long. Charlie had been thrilled to get his Hogwarts letter, and be rid of having to watch Little Meek and Mild. "You're teasing him too rough, there," "Don't you see you're scaring him?' Percy might as well have been a girl, Charlie thought. He had silently cheered when he'd seen how the twins drove his little brother out of his mind and was glad to be out of the loop at school. The only reason he made it through any of his classes was because of Bill. I was too busy playing Quidditch and being a glory hound, till the Hag grounded me. It was Bill that kept me from quitting the school right then. Only Professor Remaining Limbs was interesting, and it was his recommendation that got me into the Dragon Reserve. The rest of the teachers said they were just being fair, yeah, right! Ok. Snape never pretended to be fair, I'll give him that. Bill warned me not to try anything on him, like I listened, and I found out why…didn't take me that long to figure out how to keep my head down, though, and once I did it wasn't that bad.

He decided he'd rather end up wet than hang around all these visitors—it was really hard to stay polite to some of them, especially Aunt Muriel, who kept saying that she knew this day would come till he was ready to strangle her. Mum wasn't far behind, given how red she was getting. "Mum," he said. "Could you come out with me around back? One of the pigs is turning a funny color and Ginny said she didn't know what to make of it."

She took the excuse gratefully and the two of them walked out to the barn. "I thought you were about to blow her up the way Harry did his Aunt Marge, and if I had stayed any longer, I would have helped," he said.

Mum sighed and dried herself off as soon as they went inside the outbuilding. "I haven't been tending to the pigs like I should have been," she said. "Ginny's only fed them and such."

"Well, they're really fine, and feeding is what they like to do anyway," Charlie said, who had had his share of the work in his time.

"Still, I've been shirking. Harry spends half his time in the kitchen, and I still don't know who did the laundry." She looked ashamed of herself.

"I don't know either, but they did it right, whoever it was," Charlie said, trying to reassure her. "It's all we can do to make you go to bed and eat just now, and with all those people coming…"

"I know. And tomorrow will be worse. And…the time after that, when everyone is gone, will be hardest of all."

Charlie didn't know what to say to that. He'd had a few girlfriends in his time, but none of them really shared his interests in dragons. That was true of most of the lads at the Reserve, too; every once in a while, a girl or woman would join, and then have to beat off attention from everyone else. Well, except for the men who were pretty much married to their favorite dragon, and even they slipped into town for things no dragon could provide.

"Just owl me at the Reserve, Mum. You know they give me more time off for family things than I take. Whenever you need someone to help you yell at the world, I'll be glad to help. Come out with me sometime—we have a visitors' hostel, and a little dragon that's just hatched is really cute. They hardly flame till they're a week or so old."

For a moment, a smile flickered on his mother's face. Then she turned sober again. "Don't worry about me, other things will keep me busy, I expect."

"Mum, don't put yourself in danger!" Charlie said.

"I live in Britain and I'm a blood traitor Weasley," she said. "All of us who stay here are targets, Charlie, one reason I'm glad that you're out of it, and Bill, most of the time as well."

"Percy isn't in any danger," he said bitterly.

"Oh, dear, he's most likely to be hexed at by both sides, him and Snape," Molly said. "And don't gossip, or he'll be lying next to his father before any of the rest of us."

He nearly slapped himself on the forehead. He'd just told Harry, of all people, of why he wasn't angry with his younger brother for once, and he'd just forgotten it. "Sorry, Mum. Old habits. Both Bill and I thought you'd forgotten who we were when he was born…"

"And he thought I'd forgotten him when the twins arrived, and I know Ronald gave up on me when we all fluttered over Ginny," Molly said. "In a family this size, it's like the Wizengamot, I swear—all factions and feuds. Whatever Percy does might be what keeps us alive if everything goes wrong, too, if I read my old roommate right. Her arm doesn't have anything on it, but that doesn't mean much these days. You-Know-Who is probably bright enough to have a few friends who aren't wearing signs."

"Old roommate—you don't mean the Toad, do you?" Charlie was aghast. He'd never heard this rumor.

"Yes, Dolly and I were 'Puffs that long ago," she said. "And no matter what you think of her, her road hasn't been easy either. I can't tell you how many times the boys swerved away from her when they caught sight of…of, um someone else," she said, pink flooding her face. "That's a hard thing for anyone to bear, and I didn't help it much by enjoying it. She accused me to my face once of lying down for anyone with the right broom…" She bit her lip.

Charlie really didn't want to hear that part. "That's all right, Mum, you don't have to say any more."

"But I do have to say one thing—once I met your father, there was no one else for me, and you can cast Paternity charms all day long, you'll only get one answer."

Now his face felt hot. He was glad she'd reassured him, though. There was gossip that the hearing over Harry had had that kind of talk.

"Now go on out to your father's shed with Bill—there is plenty of stuff out there, and if you or your brother can use any of it, it's yours. I never went out there much, every man has to have a place that's just his, just like I have the sewing room, even though I always kept the door open when you were little."

Charlie knew that was where Mum kept her yarn and knitting supplies and not room for much else, though sometimes she had sat there in a rocking chair with a sick or fractious child and everyone else had wanted to listen to the Wireless or just talk. He appreciated the escape, though, and took it. Judging by Bill's face, he was happy to leave the ledgers and go on out with him, weather or no weather.

He and Bill went into the shed, though they were careful to test for hexes and wards, and very careful not to touch anything till they were sure it wouldn't spark at them. Even Bill couldn't figure out what most of it was for, or what it was supposed to do. Funny little booklets with diagrams and instructions were littered about too. Charlie tried to read one, but it didn't make any sense even without the Muggle terms—the word order was all wrong, for one thing.

"Oh, no wonder!" Bill said when Charlie asked. "The squiggles underneath are Cantonese, and some of their translators work without a spell. You get that even with a good spell, sometimes, if you aren't sure in your mind what it might be all about. I had to learn some Arabic the hard way for mine to work. Let me tell you a story about someone who thought he could translate hieroglyphics, even though a dog could tell it was about water from a river coming out of a tube..."

Charlie laughed, something he hadn't done since he'd been called to pick up a Portkey to go home. And then he stopped and looked around the shed all crowded with wires and Muggle gear. He looked under what seemed to be a little trap door, and uncovered some…oh, those kind of magazines, only he'd never seen Muggle ones before. "Aren't these boring when the pictures don't move?" he said and handed them over to Bill.

Bill flipped through one, a fairly small one, and said, "These look like letters that people write in about their adventures," he said. "Most of them aren't true, of course, but you know how that goes…"

Charlie had had a few adventures of his own but couldn't imagine writing to anyone about them. He couldn't even begin to imagine the sort that his older brother must have had. He quickly stuffed the magazines back where they'd come from after getting the one back from Bill. With embarrassed glances, they silently promised never to mention this again, and Charlie scuffed some dust over the hiding place. Then again, there were seven of them.

They went back to the house, both in better spirits than they had been.

The twins sat together in their room and were seriously bored. Mum had been adamant about them not pranking anyone at this time. But they had to do something! They had already made excuses a couple of times and fled back to their shop, and even done a bit more work on the new place in Diagon Alley, but it wasn't any good there, either. People wanted to be amused when they went into a WWW shop. And for once, the twins didn't have it in them.

"Dad would have wanted us to go on," Fred said. "Some of his ideas turned out to be really popular. What do we do, George?"

"Same as we did before. Maybe hold off on expanding, though if Ron or Ginny quit school to work, we should hire them first."

"But we'll have to pay them fair, or Mum will go after us." Fred sighed.

"True. Maybe we should put some by to keep them in school, so we can cheat strangers instead…"

"Ask Mum if she needs help?"

"You know she'll say no. Ask Bill, he was in Dad's books today." George sighed, too.

"It's not right.

"No."

"Let's find out who to do something to," said Fred.

"Duh. Already thinking how to combine Garroting Gas with a Canary Cream."

"Too bad old Snape isn't around, he'd know."

"They're not closing the school, though. Thin Lips and the Great One will be here, probably, but not too many others." George heaved another sigh. "I'm so booooored!"

They heard a knock on the door. Mum's grandmother, Nanny Ogg stood there, her one remaining tooth polished to a gleaming finish. "Lads, I heard the fatal word. Your Mum told me lots about you. Now, let's go on up to the attic and let me watch how you persuade the ghoul to behave itself during the service tomorrow. I've never met a ghoul, at least not one that lived in a house, and I'd like to see it."

They knew an order when they heard it, and followed her up the stairs, glumly. Their spirits perked up once they were there, though—they'd offered it bribes before to keep some of their papers safe and didn't think they would be in any trouble.

They thought.

Ron still felt numb. He remembered Dad rescuing him from the twins, whenever Percy wasn't around to do it, and wished he'd listened to him more. He looked at his new robes and shoes and didn't know what to think. He had always hoped to be seen as worthwhile in himself and not passed over for Ginny, or even Harry—but not like this. He had been so angry with Mum his fourth year, having to wear that awful robe…but now, but now, he was still angry, but didn't have any target for it. Dad was supposed to always sit down at the table with the newspaper, pass off bits to Mum when she finally sat down, everyone would loudly discuss the bits that Dad read out loud, Mum would check the scores against her betting book, Bill would do sums in his head just to show he could…

He collapsed on the bed and wept again. He could do it here, without anyone pointing figures or trying to comfort him. Mum wouldn't mind, for once she remembered he was here and not just Harry…the only person he really wanted by him was Hermione. She would understand. But she wouldn't be here till tomorrow. He knew, somehow, that Mum had taken against his friend as much as she had taken Harry into her arms. But they were a trio, and it didn't feel right to not have her here. Things had been a bit better last summer, when Hermione had shared a room with Ginny and had needed being taken care of—Mum took care of people, and maybe seeing Hermione obviously weak and sick had made her unbend a bit—but he knew that the two of them were so different it was hard to believe they were on the same planet. He would never have the same kind of house with her—for one thing, they would have to have enough room for most of the Hogwarts library in it—but there was so much about her that he loved. Harry got pretty tired of being told by her what they needed to do, he probably got enough of that from the Headmaster, but Ron knew that neither he nor his friend would ever have passed most of their classes without her. Or survived some of their adventures, if truth be known.

It wasn't right for her to be left out. She had been, too, with the Quidditch homework sessions and her not being all the way well yet. And now with Harry being a Weasley, sort of, she's left out again. Maybe the next time me and Harry are in trouble, she won't be there, and we'll be out of luck.

Oh, he loved her so. She was so different from the other Gryffindor girls, but not when it counted. Now, Ginny would be up for their yearly 'Voldemort is trying to kill us' attempt, but would she know enough to get them out of it alive? Something in his stomach told him that Hermione had been their margin of safety far too often for it to be a coincidence. Yeah, being nagged to do his own homework for a change was pretty annoying, but she was right, he'd spent all summer making up for it this last year.

And yeah, he didn't like it that Harry and Hermione had missed that one Quidditch game of his to cavort with Grawp, but once he heard what happened to Umbridge, didn't mind a bit. Part of his heart still wished that they'd seen his triumph, though…he had so few of them. When he'd told Luna about that, she said that she had seen the game, and admired how he'd tracked the Quaffle all the way from the other goal to his using a technique called drunkard's walk—he'd never heard it called that before, but that was what he'd done even if he hadn't known the name for it. He'd asked Hermione about it later, but she said there was a book about it—why was he not surprised?—but the one she gave him was too hard for him to read. He wished he liked reading better, but the letters wiggled around too much. I wonder if there's a spell to read things out loud, the way there is on a Dicta-Quill to write what you say down? Maybe he could ask Luna to ask her House Head about that, if she didn't know the spell herself. It sure would make things a lot easier for him. He was just a bit afraid to ask Hermione!

But he was Captain of the team now. He was still happy at how people looked to him for the answers on the field and off it. Even Harry listened to him, some of the time, anyway.

His heart and stomach still hurt for losing Dad. How was he going to go back to school and pretend nothing had happened? On top of that, once Quidditch was done for the season, he was supposed to be some kind of student aide—to Snape. Well, he wouldn't have time to wallow over Dad once that started. Still, he kind of liked Winky, and he saw how the little elf tamed the fractious Potions Master. I hate Kreacher, but like Dobby, and Winky is just sweet. I'll ask her how to go along, and maybe it will work out after all.

He wiped his face. Dad was still gone. At Christmas, he'd ask Bill how Mum was getting along. He wasn't too young to work, especially since he'd passed several of his OWLs, including Potions, to his surprise. Snape had pretty much stopped yelling at him as much—he'd even stopped yelling, mostly, at Longbottom. His eyelid still twitched every once in a while, and Ron had finally learned to shut it whenever that happened. Even Malfoy paid attention to that one!

It would be really cool if they brewed the Wolfsbane Potion, too.

He sighed and left the room. Harry should have some help in the kitchen, and not just Ginny.

Ginny fed the chickens and the pigs with tears streaming down her face. Dad, oh Dad, you promised to walk with me when I went from here to my husband's arms. I always thought that would be Harry, but that won't happen either. What am I to do?

She knew she didn't want to be Mum, though they loved each other. When no one else was around, they fought like to cats in the same sack. We'll be fine once I have my own kitchen, she thought. Dad pointed out that the two of us were too alike, and that's why we yell at each other over nothing. He said that was why he and the boys fought whenever they hit a certain age, well, except for Perfect Percy. Huh. Maybe this is just the way that Percy fights, by moving off…

But Dad, oh, Dad! Tears sprang afresh. She had always been Dad's darling since she'd been born. She had even gone out to the shed sometimes with him, and read him instructions on things while he worked with Muggle stuff, even though some of them hadn't made any sense. As long as she didn't go out there by herself and muck around, she had more time with him there than any of the others.

What was she supposed to do now? All she was good at was playing Quidditch. She was pretty proud of how Ron had measured up this year, and still amazed that Harry had turned it down in the first place. For all his talk about hating publicity, Harry didn't like it that much when he was overlooked, not as much as he said he did, though he had hidden out in the kitchen a lot while here. But then, with Skeeter around, anyone who had brains did that. She was really surprised that he knew how to cook, even though he did things the Muggle way most of the time. She'd had to show him how the oven and the food-safe worked, but she was so pleased she wasn't stuck with everything the way she'd been last summer, that she hadn't commented on it. Hermione had muttered darkly that Harry's relatives were horrible, but Ginny wasn't going look a gift Thestral in the mouth at this point.

She had been ready to show Harry how the laundry worked, too, though she should really be doing it herself, but it had been done behind her back as well. However, it was done, and she wasn't going to complain about it. Oh, damn, and he's only my brother! Once they find out he can do housework and doesn't mind it, the girls at school will be lining up three-deep for him even if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived.

But we have to live long enough to care. I hope the Ministry brings their wands for Dad's funeral, because what a lovely target we'll all make for You-Know-Who and his friends. I wonder how safe Mum will be when we're all back at school and she's here all by herself?

Ginny eyed the pigs. Some of them were pretty large and mean, but they'd be barbecue if the Death Eaters had their way. And the same went for the rest of them. She shivered. There were worse things that they'd learned about in DADA this year…Inferi. Better to go up in flames than to be used against your friends and family. Mum was right about Dad, though, a wet winter would leave nothing by bones by spring anyway, and the weather would keep a flame from holding no matter how many set Incendio on him. If she had her way, she'd find a dry day between now and Christmas and finish the job. It wasn't right that Dad should go without his wand, either, though nobody knew where it was.

What's the point of having an Order if none of them can fetch it back? She wondered resentfully. Oh, of course she'd join it as soon as she was old enough, and then she'd show a few of them what she was made of. She was glad, though, that Bill and Charlie were out of things. If things really went bad, at least there would be a couple of Weasleys left to carry things on, although if she ever had the chance to tell Percy what she really thought, there might be one less sooner than anyone thought.

Molly dragged herself out of bed that dreadful morning. She thought she would go mad trying to show a brave face to the neighbors these last few days. Why couldn't they have had it Monday, and have it over with now? But then, there would be dreadful empty days once everyone went home or back to school. One more day, then, to pretend she wasn't falling apart. At least Nanny said she'd stay for another week once the funeral was over.

She dressed. She washed her face. She ate whatever it was on the plate before her. She hugged her children, at least those of it who would let her. Had anyone figured out yet that she needed the hugs more than they did? Her bed was so horribly cold these days—oh, there had been times Arthur had been away for some reason, and last year he'd been at St. Mungo's for so long while that snakebite had healed. But she always knew he was coming home eventually, even though he was out of it temporarily.

She was horrible in so many ways—Arthur dead and her body on fire for him. But that was one longing she didn't dare tell even Nanny Ogg about, though given how many times that her grandmother had been a widow, no doubt she would have sympathized. Nobody else would have understood, though. Her children would have looked at her as if she had been the Whore of Hufflepuff that the bad old stories at school had named her. And it was all the worse for knowing that she would never feel her husband's hands on her again, or his manhood in her body.

There. One more day of playing Noble Martyred Widow for both the Order and the Ministry, for her family, and without a doubt, someone for the other side as well. She had no illusions about who might have been in her parlor with the Dark Mark on her arm and nobody the wiser. She was careful not to speak of Percy, because she knew his heart was on the right side, but if anybody thought so, it might be his life because of her loose lips.

She was certain that Albus and Minerva would come, but not the rest of the school—if they stopped lessons for every Order death, nothing would get done for the students who hadn't lost anyone, and that wasn't fair to them.

Then the one visitor she never expected walked into her parlor. Everyone fell silent. Snape's black robes echoed her own feelings, her own funereal black garb. Molly bit her lip as a surge of lust barreled up from her groin. No, she couldn't feel like this on the day her husband went into the ground!

And his voice just made it worse, even though he was merely speaking common platitudes about sympathy for her loss, wishing her well in the future, and offering his help if there was something he could do to aid her in this time of need.

Nanny Ogg spoke up, Bridget bless her. "You're said to be able to put up wards to stop a hippogriff," she said in her cracked tones. "I'll show you the gravesite and perhaps you can suggest any additions to the ones that will be there."

Professor Snape nodded. His gloomy demeanor wasn't out of place here and now. The pair of them looked odd, almost as strange as when he and Flitwick walked together. Nanny never seemed that short when she was talking to you, but she had shrunk over the years, and looked like an animated walking ball of black next to the tall dark figure as they went out the back.

Molly fanned herself. If people thought she was going through the Change, well, then, let them think that. Better than having them know what she really felt. Having him out of the parlor helped some. Oh, Bridget, why was her husband gone? Who would cool her fires when she longed for him in her bed at night? She could manage some things on her own tick, but…it wasn't the same, would never be the same, ever.

She bit her lip again to keep from wailing. She would have time enough to do it to the air when this part was over. Fortunately, she'd have a week to do it to Nanny, but after that she really would be on her own save for work for the Order. She dimly wondered if they would still be at Grimmauld Place, or if Narcissa would make trouble over it. There was a rite that Harry could do once he was of age…

There she was, mind wandering again. Xeno was asking her a question about an interview. "Lovegood, leave off the damn paper for once," Bill said to him. "Not today."

She heard the grief in her son's voice. "Xeno, ask me next month. I can't think for now, and I'm bound to say something stupid. And I know you want to sell papers, but if I'm going to say something stupid, I'd rather say it on purpose."

Her friend blinked slowly. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley. You are wise."

That made her wonder how deep he was in the Order, but decided not to push, at least not in public like this. She gazed up at Bill, still wondering how she'd produced someone so like her stepbrothers Gideon and Fabian Prewitt. Except Bill had a lot more common sense than either those two or her 'cousin' Sirius Black all put together. Yes, she'd been worried sick when he signed up for Gringotts and started treasure hunting, but look now and he was safer there than anyone in Britain these days. It was Percy, poor lad, who had been so sensible and if she guessed right, now walked a tightrope as bad as Snape's. "Thank you, Bill," she whispered. "I'm not in my right mind these days and I don't hear half of what's said to me. I'm glad you're listening more closely."

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, nodded briefly at her, and went on to talk to some of the other guests. A good thing he hadn't been in the room when Snape came in—he might have caught something in her own face that would have scandalized him.

In fact, there he was now. Molly forced herself to be stiffly polite and send him on his way. She hoped her flushed face wasn't too obvious. Nanny whispered into her ear as Snape went out the door, "He left a note. Best you read it by yourself, I would think."

Molly nodded. In only a few more hours, her Arthur would be gone from her forever. Only a few more hours before she couldn't pretend to herself that he was on some kind of trip, or out in the shed fiddling with his Muggle toys. Oh, yes, there was his corpse all laid out—but that was just cold meat wearing his face, it certainly wasn't him.

She drank yet another cup of tea and thanked someone else for coming in. Maybe it was just as well. She wasn't ready for this house to be empty yet.

Nanny Ogg measured the tall, sour wizard with her eyes as the two of the walked in the rain in the back garden. She wondered what Molly had seen in him to set her on fire so. Granted, his voice would melt a girl's drawers right down, and the size of his nose boded well for anyone who managed to get into his—but his manner put her off just a bit. Then she remembered he was a teacher at a school with a lot of teenage girls, most of whom had no more brains than chickens when it came to men, and decided it might be protective coloring to keep the little darlings from pestering him to death.

"So, what is your connection with the family?"

"I was to keep Mr. Weasley from being killed. I failed."

Oh, dear. "From what I heard, you had all you could do to keep from being pan-fried yourself," she said pertly. The newspapers here had been full of the fire in this Knockturn Alley place. "Now, you look a bit on the moody side, mind you, but I'm not seeing the Mad-Eye."

He grimaced. "I was in disguise. I hope you don't plan to spread that about."
"Must have been a good disguise, to go missing a leg and an eye and all. He's been here a couple of times, and made his apologies already, but it sounded faked to me, and Molly's answer to him wasn't much better."

"A potion," he said. "Lasts only so long, though." He stared through the rain and made no attempt to cover himself, or indeed, do any kind of magic to keep it off him. Wizards did a lot more with their short wands here than any she saw at home with their staffs, apparently, but this one wasn't doing any. "He trusted me," he added.

Ah. She'd run into that one before, some of her boys had gone to foreign wars and not all of them had come back—but those that had felt just the same. "You did what you could. Don't wallow. Here, have a drink of this. It'll keep your mind off your troubles." If a sip of scumble didn't budge this fellow's misery, it was hopeless.

He took the flask without even looking at it. She was amused by the way his eyes suddenly became twice their size and apparently looked inward not believing what was happening to the mouth, throat and stomach all at the same time. "It's made from apples," she added helpfully.

His mouth moved a couple of times with no sound, his voice was probably paralyzed a bit, and then he gasped for air. "I have a couple of cauldrons that would likely clean," he said once he got his breath back.

"It does good for that, too," Nanny Ogg said, who had used it on a pan or two in her time that one of her daughters-in-law couldn't get clean even with soaking it a while. "Now, you tell me what you are to her and what she is to you. And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"She is Arthur's wife and kissed me a few times during a card game after the punch had been around," he said, clearly trying to keep his voice expressionless. He wasn't succeeding. "I did not try to get her husband killed. In fact, I've done all I was allowed to in order to save him. He is—was a good friend, and, and, oh gods, I would have his wife in my bed in a moment if she ever let me in it." He sounded choked now, as if holding back tears. "And that 'scumble' is the most impressive truth serum I've ever had put down me."
"It only lets out what you want to let out," Nanny said in a kind voice. "That's why I took you out here before you both exploded like crackers at Yule."

"What do you mean, both…?"

"Yes, both. Now, she has to have her year or however long she wants, she's dying of losing her Arthur, and though it would probably do you both good, you've to leave her alone till she comes to you. If she does. She has been known to change her mind."

"What?" He looked dazed, if only by the scumble.

"Now, if we were back in Lancre, I know a dozen places where you two could meet without causing scandal, but I don't know this world much at all. From what I've heard, this Wizarding place is even smaller than my village in some ways. And at that school, you have to avoid trouble for fear of upsetting parents, though you would think if the teachers were all married, that would settle their minds more than anything else. Still, I imagine you don't want to throw your position away for anything like that, no matter how hot you two might be for each other. Molly'll want to keep her name clear, if only for her children's sake, and having to live down how much fun she had before she met her husband. Rules! It took me till I was fifty to realize I didn't have to hide from myself, but things are different here. But she'll be grieving Arthur till her dying day even if she does take up with you, so don't throw a fit if she calls the wrong name at the wrong time."

He looked like a gaffed fish. No doubt people were afraid of telling him the truth, with his stark looks and gloominess. Well-a-day, awkward truths were her stock in trade, and she only had this short time to tell his to him. "It might not ever happen, and never if you force it—she might seem happy when you do it, but she'll poison you at leisure if it's really against her will. I taught her all the ways when she was my apprentice, because there were those already sniffing at her even then. Then again, if she has a wand too, she might not bother with the poison."

He gulped and looked properly fearful, as well he should. She grinned at him. "If I guess right, though, you won't have to do anything but say 'yes dear' once she's made up her mind. But give her the chance to do so, and don't do anything unseemly if she chooses someone else. I had the same talk with a few of her former friends right before her marriage, and they've been good boys ever since."

"Yes, they have been. Some of them wanted to testify in her favor over a guardianship hearing, but they were discouraged to keep the past back where it belonged."

"Well, now. That was good of them." She beamed at him.

"But I had to ask questions she didn't like anyway, because worse would come out from others if I hadn't," he said gravely.

"Ah! The old 'losing from the other side' routine—I've seen it once, and it was neatly done. Hope you didn't suffer too much from it, from what I've heard, your lads play rough."

"She had to help patch me up after," he said, with a little upwards tick of his thin lips. "So I didn't lose as much as I thought."

"Ha! That's a good one to get the music started, if you don't die of it first," Nanny said. "Well, I've kept you out in the rain long enough. I don't advise you to stay, though."

"Can't, I have another class starting soon. Will you give this to her? It's not anything that would cause trouble in that way, but she knew I was with Arthur that day and not the other man."

"I'll look at it first, mind you," Nanny said, as she accepted the folded paper he handed her.

"Make sure she burns it later, please. Someone might not like it if they knew I was there." His eyes spoke the emotion of his plea better than his voice did.

"Of course, she's told me a bit of what's going on, and I can guess a lot of the rest. But if anyone asks, I'm just guarding her reputation, and if I don't like this letter, I'll burn it anyway."

"Good." He turned on his heel then and went up back to the house, made his goodbye, and left.

Nanny quickly scanned the note, as she'd promised. I failed you, and I apologize for it. I tried to keep him alive, and I still don't know why he died. But I am here if you wish for vengeance. I will not raise a wand.

S.

Ha, he'd raise a wand and then some quickly enough if given the chance. Molly might think that, too, but that was her decision to make. But he shouldn't have left any initial on it, that could be used against him if he was playing both sides against the middle. Nanny frowned. Yes, she'd better pass this on. If Molly was angry enough at him, all she had to do was to let this slip to the wrong person, and she wouldn't have to do anything at all, if Nanny understood this strange magical war going on. Molly had hinted at what a mess it was, and arranged for shelter for whoever she needed to shove into Lancre. Well, they'd had hard times in one of the smallest kingdoms of Discworld, too—she remembered those elves. Who would have thought it was Magrat who'd done their Queen in? Then again, the girl probably had a lot of anger at the way she and Granny Weatherwax had batted her around like a ball of yarn, and the Queen the closest target.

Ah well. Perdita was shaping up, with her strange double soul able to dish it out as well as she could take it, and Tiffany shaping better. Nanny had never seen a witch come from the Chalk before, though nobody had dared to cross Granny Aching.

She handed the note to Molly and warned her to read it in private. Not too long after, Molly claimed the need to lie down to rest up for the ceremony. Nanny followed her and watched her flare up at reading the paper. "Throw that in the hearth now," Nanny said, "unless you want someone else to do him in to save you the trouble."

Her granddaughter flushed even redder and quickly thrust the note into the flames, and poked the ash, just to make sure. "How am I to nap like this?" Molly asked with a groan.

"I'll help you unhook this dress, and then do whatever you need to rest," Nanny said. "Wouldn't do to have the dress all wrinkles from being rucked up, now would it?"

Molly's tears ran down her face. "What kind of woman am I, to feel like this on the day my husband goes into the ground?"

"Well, it isn't the maenad blood," Nanny said tartly. "I was like that too when your grandfather died. It's the heat you get from all your sides, from what I've heard of the Black family as well. Don't hate yourself because of it, it will cool in the years to come, or well, maybe not. It's a gift, not a curse, however unwelcome it is just now. There's women and men both that would pay their weight in gold to have it, aye, and some that would pay their weight to be rid of it, too. But don't you be like that."

"It's just that I've been like this before, but with Arthur to take the sting out of it," Molly said between her sobs. "One year I even had it for that empty smile Lockhart and wasted half the year's budget on his stupid books that all turned out to be lies."

"And have any others besides Arthur had it for you?"

"Yes, but not at the same time. I turned Corney into a donkey for his trouble that one Christmas party, but he never took a grudge from it, though his wife still hates me even though I was doing it for her sake. Now I have it for Snape, and him not making a move or anything."

"The rain turned to steam when it hit when I talked about you to him," Nanny said. "The scumble had the truth out of him, though he needed to tell someone, poor man. But don't go breaking his heart on just a fling, now. He looks like Granny's old Uncle Gerasius who didn't fall in love till he was nearly sixty, and the girl ran off with a cartman instead. So if you go after him, you'd better mean it."

Molly turned still. "He's in dead man's shoes, where he is now. The other side dumped him on my doorstep half-gone not three weeks ago, and I can't tell you how much he's gone through to protect our family already. But you're right. Word is he loved a Muggleborn girl, only to have her waltz off with Harry's real father a long time ago, and that he's not looked at anyone since. Though I imagine he's had some fun out of sight of the school, and no, I don't begrudge him any bit of joy he can find. I've already had to tell Albus to keep his mouth shut—he made a goose of himself a few times thinking I needed protection."

"Oh, that old man who came by Sunday? Yes, he looks the meddling kind, all for everyone's own good, of course. But I think I helped a bit—sending this Snape off with not even a cup of tea or a place to sit might help when the gossips start to point out things. If they have any right to, that is! Well, here I am chattering on and you not managing to rest. Have some happy thoughts, you'll sleep better after, and you'll need all your strength. Best lock the door, though, if someone hears you groan for Arthur they're likely to come in, and won't that set the cat among the pigeons? They'll think you're having a fit and will need to be dosed."

"I'll set up the Silencio now, thank you, Nanny."

The old witch left the room and hoped it was locked anyway. She remembered the tale that went around at Georg's funeral when she'd almost been caught in the pantry with the pieman, and how much better she'd felt that night when he'd sneaked into her bedroom anyway. Now that was a delivery!

She went out to the parlor and did her duty, and informed the children, who were old enough to mind themselves anyway, that they were not to disturb their mother at her rest unless all those Death Squeaker types showed up with wands blazing, and even then to think about it some first.

Molly finished up with a sigh of relief. Maybe she did doze a little after, because she awoke from a dream where she was having breakfast with all the family, including Arthur, but Snape was at the table feeding a couple of extras in highchairs. She couldn't see the new ones' faces clearly, but nobody seemed put out to have them there.

She looked at the time on the clock there in the bedroom, and then dashed around getting dressed again, and brushing her hair one more time and hoping the pins wouldn't fly out for once. She tried a charm to hold them in and hoped it worked.

Everyone in the parlor looked up with a bit of relief—she must have been there longer than she thought. But she did feel better for the rest. She walked over to where Arthur, under an industrial-grade Preservation spell, and ran his hands through his thinning hair.

"Molly, my love, there seem to be more people at the gate in the front garden," her grandmother said.

She used the newly-installed peephole, to make sure who these visitors were. Oh. It was the Ministry people now. Molly opened the door, shoving aside Bill who likely thought the whole lot were Polyjuiced, but she was still mistress of this house, and she had her wand handy just in case.

Madam Umbridge was in front, for once wearing black instead of pink. She suddenly changed from Minister to Dolly, as her face cracked open and she ran, ran towards the house saying, "Oh, Molly, Molly, this must be so horrible for you!"

They embraced on the doorstep, both of them weeping. Molly guided the pair of them inside, to let others in, but was so glad to know that Dolly Ratliff still lived under the hard shell of Minister Umbridge.

The others from the Ministry, including Fudge himself, his bowler black today, also entered the room and gathered around the earthly shell of Arthur Weasley. Molly barely noticed them as she and Dolly sat down on the sofa together and held hands as they had not done since their seventh year—not since Molly's wedding, in fact. "You were here at the beginning," Molly whispered. "And now you are here at the end."

"Yes. I was always so jealous of you…such a happy family…" Dolly's tears were real, unlike the crocodile ones she had shed on other, more formal occasions.

Molly had sometimes envied her former roommate's freedom and quiet after a long day, but today wasn't the day to mention that. She would have all the freedom and quiet she didn't want soon enough. Perhaps it would be good to see Dolly more often than she had. "Thank you, oh, thank you, for coming and bringing all of you…"

"I can't be the Official Ministry Harridan today," her friend said with just a hint of a grin. "We were so close back then…"

Molly didn't want to say it was Dolly's envy that had driven them apart. But then, she'd had much less time for her friend when she flirted and more than that with boys. Oh, Dolly sometimes made do with her leftovers, or the ones she didn't want…but even she knew that wasn't the same. "I know, oh, Dolly, it was my fault too…"

"But mostly me," the other woman said with sadness in her eyes. "That's one reason I don't mind looking after your son up there. You must be heartbroken with him not coming by as often as you'd like."

"It hurts," Molly said. "Oh, please come by more…I miss you."

A tiny glint of satisfaction showed in Dolly's eyes, and then faded. "Of course. You had only to ask."

Molly knew it she deserved it. There hadn't been much room for others in her life with all her family about her, but then, she could have made her friend more welcome a long time ago. "Thank you."

Her friend stood up then, "I am keeping you from your other guests, but I will be back."

Molly nodded as Madam Umbridge reappeared and went to over to pay her respects to Arthur himself. She glanced over and saw Percy standing stiffly and nobody talking to him. She longed to go to him and hold him in her arms but couldn't do with so many others about. They both knew the rules.

Fortunately, she saw Charlie going over to his brother with his hand out to shake, and not clenched in a fist. She hoped things would stay that way, but decided she'd allow Bill to be the chief enforcer for now.

Cornelius Fudge and his wife nodded at her, came over, and the three of them exchanged pleasantries. Molly didn't know how much Mildred knew about how Corny had kept donkey ears on till Three Kings day one year, but couldn't forget how she and Arthur had laughed for years over the incident.

This was a time to remember everything about Arthur, her beloved, even if she couldn't do all of it out loud.

Then the pops of Apparation could be heard outside the door again. This time Bill went to the peephole and said, "The Hogwarts people are here." Bill questioned them as they came through the door and they all proved their bona fides as far as he was concerned, though he kept his wand at the ready.

Albus came in, and Molly rose to embrace the old wizard. "You have only to ask, Mrs. Weasley, and the rest of us will make it happen," he said softly. "You are valuable to us and not just your husband." Well, she doubted that, but it was nice of him to say it.

Minerva came in and gave her a bony, formal hug. "I'll do my best to look after your three," she said, obviously making sure she knew Harry was to be counted among them.

"Thank you," Molly said hoarsely, knowing the time for them to return to the school was too soon at hand, and the days to Christmas break longer. McGonagall then circulated among the others. Pomona Sprout came in, her former House Head, and Molly sobbed on her shoulder. "Oh, my dear, weep away, my shoulders are broad enough for all my children."

That reunion lasted a bit longer. Then the older woman said, "Professor Flitwick has sent a wreath, but I don't know about Professor Snape…"

"He was here this morning for a short while. My granny took him around back, something about reinforcing the wards."

"Well, he'd be the one to do it. I heard a Ministry owl bounced off one of his once…" Pomona said, as she sat down beside Molly on the couch. "Dolly, come over here, and sit on my other side." Madam Umbridge turned back into a real person again as she sat down. "I am so sad that it took this to bring you two back together again, but I am happy to see you friends however the circumstances." She barely noticed little Hermione walking in practically unnoticed, or Ron flying forward to hug her.

Molly leaned in—this just felt right after so long. She had been so lonely so far from Lancre, and Dolly had just lost her father, and so the two of them took advantage of whatever cuddle time they could manage from the then-much-younger House Head. Professor Sprout had been glad to let them weep on her then…

Alastor Moody stumped in, looking around as if he expected a beating. Molly hadn't the heart to play the part of scold, and just motioned him to come by her. "I know you did all you could," she said, reciting her lines but without any venom.

"I did," the gruff old retired Auror said, who levered himself down into a chair with no ceremony, since his leg offered him every excuse. "You have every right to hex me into oblivion."

"But I would miss you so if I did," Molly said.

"Well," he said, his ears going just a bit pink. "I still regret everything that happened. Ask me what you will." A small, strange sound rang through the room—no doubt he meant every word, and now his own magic would sour on him if he refused.

She nodded, accepting his pledge. She had no idea what she would ever have to ask of him, but no doubt it would be a doozy when she finally thought of something.

The clock struck. The hands had hit a place on the face that said, IT'S TIME.

Molly stood, donned her cloak, and motioned everyone to do the same. She would do no one any favors by having half the magical world come down with pneumonia, as the rain was now turning into sleet. "Warming and drying charms everyone!" she ordered, ignoring the fact that almost everyone was already casting them.

Arthur was covered with a plain white sheet, save for the embroidery she had put on the top edge before she was a bride. Bill, Fred and George took one side—she would have to do something special for the twins, they had been so very good this time—while Percy, Charlie and Ron took the other. Ginny walked along beside her at the rear. The sleet hissed down on what was left of Arthur. The others followed them out the front door, around the Burrow, and to the back garden. A hole had been excavated recently, though the edges were already crumbling in this weather. Snape had probably done that for her. Her six boys carefully took Arthur off the table top they'd used to carry him and gently lowered him, still wrapped in the sheet, into the ground.

Molly waved her wand and chanted, "From earth and water you came, to earth and water you go. You are bound to this land now, bound to defend it along with all your ancestors who are resting here. As long as your bones remain, you will stand to fight should the worst come." As she spoke, the dirt from the excavation flew back into the hole to cover Arthur's remains. She paused. Now came the really hard part. "All here, please come to speak of what you knew of Arthur Weasley, for good or ill or maybe both. No free speech will be penalized or result in any feud between anyone here or their families." That caveat was necessary, for many hexes and curses had flown at times over last words over a grave.

Albus Dumbledore stepped up first—only fair, he and his had to go back to the school sooner than the others had to leave for the Ministry. "Arthur Weasley was a kind and fair man, who loved his children dearly. He put his foot down several times when his older children wanted to leave school and earn money for the family, and told them not to worry, that he would be able to provide. They had faith in him, and now today do better than they ever could have otherwise. I mentioned this, because I suspect his two—no, three—younger children might want to make a similar sacrifice. But Mr. Weasley was far braver than people think, and we are sad that his courage cost him his life."

Well, that was true enough; her spell enforced that as much as if she'd dosed everyone with Veritaserum. But he'd said far less than he could have, for which she was grateful. She hoped the next Order meeting would bring other recollections.

Cornelius Fudge stepped up then, his face drooping. "Arthur Weasley was one of our most interesting and diligent employees," he said. "One can see where his twin sons gained their sense of humor, because their father was always up for a joke. Indeed, his love of strange devices may have led him to his doom, since it was investigating one that shrieked when you touched it that caused him to leave the Ministry the morning of his death. I cannot remember the number of times when other strange devices tried to escape out his door or window, much to the consternation or amusement of the other offices. In these grim times, he struck a note of levity that will be very much missed."

Madam Umbridge was next, her Ministry face plastered firmly on. "I often made fun of him," she said, her voice quavering. "And I am sorry for it now. Arthur Weasley made his wife and family happy, something all too rare and precious. And…I made fun of my former roommate, too, and I wish I never had. We all are the poorer for his death." Tears streamed down her face, mixed with rain with ice in it.

They would all freeze to death before they were done at this rate. Molly said, "I think Arthur would want us to say what we had to say in front of the hearth with a hot drink in each hand. He never wanted anyone to suffer for his sake."

Everyone gratefully moved back inside. The important part had been done already, binding Arthur to the land, and anything else that had to be done could wait for a drier day. Any Death Eaters who wanted to risk pneumonia were welcome to try. No Inferi had come from the Burrow or ever would.

Everyone shot Molly a look of gratitude, save for those who were too miserable to care. Even they began to cheer up a little bit as they thawed out. The parlor looked too empty, now, with only the table (the top quickly dried and replaced on the legs) there, so bare, so bare, so bare…

Molly paid attention again as Professor McGonagall gave a few memories of Arthur as a student when he was in Gryffindor, and she was much younger herself and trying to cope as a new teacher. That's right, Albus had been Head of Gryffindor back then, not her…Dippet was still in charge… She and Arthur had been married just over 30 years…and nobody had said a thing so long ago when Bill had been a seven-pound baby born at seven months. Well, lots of people had said lots of things, but not in her hearing after a few hexes from Arthur. Others outside the family came up and spoke, looking at the bare table with grief on most of their faces. Madam Pomfrey simply wept, and then waved the next speaker on—Molly knew she would come another time when it would be just them. Then little Hermione stepped up, though she didn't have to say anything. "Mr. Weasley showed me some of his Muggle devices," she said. "I tried not to laugh at what he thought he knew about them. I hope he liked the catalog…" Then she burst into tears and Ron hugged her. Her hair was practically a living thing by itself the way it curled and furled outside of her youngest son's arms.

Well. The girl had done the right thing. Ron looked manly and protective that way. I mustn't interfere, Molly told herself firmly. It'll work out or it won't, and I have no right to force him to make any choices at all, given how I've neglected him. He was always the last in line…even more so than Ginny. Let him be first in someone else's heart, if he can't be first in mine.

Nearly everyone who wasn't family had spoken. Moody was the last of the non-family who clattered up to the table and placed his hand on it. "Arthur Weasley was one of the bravest men I have ever known," he said. "Many would draw back with his family responsibilities. Even more would have said, 'I've had enough' after that big snake's attack. And yet he wouldn't. But it's not that I praise him for—it's for raising a family so large and loving that almost nothing could ever divide it. The time for staying neutral is running out fast, as we all learned at the guardianship hearing at the Ministry not too long ago. I know what side I'm on and I knew what side Arthur was one. And yes, he died of it. He won't be the first or the last, but he was one of the best, and we will all miss him." He turned around and began to hobble out.

Molly was glad they didn't observe Muggle customs—forcing the family to speak before strangers was an abomination, and she didn't see how people stood for it. Hermione left with the Hogwarts people with a white-faced glance back at Ron, and Ron's steady, love-sick gaze at her. Does she care for him as much as he does her?

But this was not her matter to stick her spoon in.

Now, it was only family in the house. Aunt Muriel spoke now. Her voice shook. "I never quite approved of him," she said. "He was never serious. I saw how the Prewitts lost their finest, and they were never serious, either. I always wished he would concentrate more on providing for his family than playing with those silly Muggle toys, but…it's not right that investigating one of them killed him. I found out—I found out about the extra work he did sometimes to bring more home, and I didn't approve of that either, but I was a fool. I could have helped so he didn't have to worry so much, but I refused to do that. And so…so here we are." Her whole face quivered as she clearly tried hard to push back tears. "I hate funerals!" She sat down and disappeared behind half-an-acre of white handkerchief.

Nanny Ogg was next and she didn't look nearly as sturdy as she usually did. "I hate funerals, too," she said. She wasn't that much taller than the table when she was bent over like that. "I have buried too many in my time, and it looks to be bargain days for dying in this land, too. But my home is open to any of you who must go there, and don't be shy about asking, And if any of your enemies follow, well, we have a few surprises there for them as well. I never thought to see my Molly in widow's weeds, knowing how long people live here, and it breaks my heart to see her this way." She took a quick gulp from her flask and calmed down. "But even after I have to go home, I want you to Floo or owl or let me know how you are each and every week. No excuses!"

"Yes, Nanny," Molly said in a dull voice. It felt as if the air had become lead, and she heavier with each and every breath.

Bill was the oldest of the children, and now it was his turn. "Oh, Dad," he said, caressing the table top. "I always meant to do you proud…you told me that you were proud of me, the last time we talked, and that you were glad I had the job I had. I didn't know till now what you gave, what the family gave, for me to have a real apprenticeship at Gringotts and not just a contract jobber, the way most humans are there. You gave so much to all of us. And now you're gone." He turned away, probably to hide a less than manly reaction, and gestured at Charlie.

Her second son stood. "We fought so much! You didn't want me leaving the country the way Bill did, but once you realized that being with dragons was the only thing for me, then we were friends again. Oh, Dad, I am so sorry for being such an idiot last summer!" Then Charlie clenched his fists and turned away.

Molly noticed the outline of a figure on the empty table. Since they were having the family only bit inside, it made sense that Arthur was going to have his last word here, rather than out at the actual gravesite.

Percy was next. Everything became dead silent. He rose, walked to the table, and put his hands on it. "I can't lie to you any more," he said. "But let me finish before you yell at me." He opened his collar, lowered his shirt over his left shoulder. Everyone gasped as they saw the Mark, though to Molly's eyes it didn't look quite right—there was another color mixed in there, too, but she could only tell it was a lighter one. "I know what you're thinking. But everything I do, everything I say, it's all for this family—and if anyone talks, I'll be the next one out there, lying next to Dad. Moody knows the truth, but who knows if he would say anything if I was ever caught? Madam Umbridge doesn't know, but Moody and Snape do. I think the Headmaster does, as well. Go on ahead, keep hating me outside these walls. That actually helps me. But I can't stand it…I can't be as brave as Snape and let everyone hate me the way we all do him."

He took a deep breath. "Dad, you knew on that horrible Sunday when some of us died. And you kept my secret. The rest of you, you have to keep this secret, or I'm dead. Fred, George, I know you never liked the way I did things, till I ordered those joke wands, but go ahead and send me a dungbomb once a week, or people will think you like me again…" He smiled wanly at the twins. "Oh, Dad, please be proud of me…Mum…I hope you are, too."

Molly sobbed into a dishtowel at this revelation, a handkerchief never would have held all her tears. She had suspected something of the sort, especially last summer, but had known her son was true the day that Arthur had died in her arms. "I am, Percy. I am…" she choked out between her weeping.

The twins stood up together as soon as Percy sat down. "We won't grass on you, Perce," Fred said.

"Never! But thanks for the permission to send you—"

"But not dungbombs all the time, that's boring—"

"Give the Toad a Canary Cream and send us a picture, we'll frame it!"

"And remember your promise for the Pensieve memory when you and your lot have fun with the fake wands…"

Then the two fell silent and both of them looked down at the table. The outline of Arthur Weasley's corpse looked nearly solid by now. "Dad, we're sorry about old Montague—" "You're right, we did want him off the Snakes' team—" "We wanted to be the New Marauders…" "But you made us see a bit more clearly—" "What that really meant."

They both wiped their eyes in identical gestures and sat down.

Ron stood up next. Oh, he looked so handsome in a proper robe and good shoes! "Dad, you tried to protect me when I was little, even when you were tired from work and wanted Ginny to cuddle instead. And I still remember the time you went down to the clothing store with me and bought me new underwear and gave up your fag money for a couple of weeks for it. I liked playing chess with you, too—I beat half the Gryffindors in the common room with the moves you showed me. I won't ever let you down, Dad, no matter how scared I am sometimes." He sat down, caught between man and child by the look on his face.

Harry was next. He took off his glasses and wiped them with a corner of his robe. "I didn't have you for my Dad for very long," he said in a hoarse voice. "I guess I'm bad luck that way…but I loved it when you came to the school and told me about the hearing and asked me what I really wanted. There aren't too many people who do that! I wish you hadn't died. I was just getting used to having a family that wanted me…" He gulped, and sat down, clearly too upset to talk.

Then it was Ginny's turn. "Oh, Dad…you were the world to me. You taught me how to fly and never let me go on the hard parts. You let me help you sometimes out in the shed. And you and Mum sat up with me when I had bad nights after that first year at Hogwarts. You let me cry all over your pajamas, but you never left till I was all the way asleep again. You set up a nightlight for me when I was afraid of the dark again after that and showed me how I could take it to Hogwarts and put it inside my poster bed so none of the other girls would laugh at me.

"I want a husband like you someday, someone who is brave and good and funny and who loves me the way you loved Mum and all the rest of us. You taught me that money isn't as important as how happy you are, even if I didn't like wearing robes that Mum had to make for me. You taught me that a houseful of children and laughter count more than any vault full of Galleons…" Ginny burst into tears and Molly opened her arms for the girl, who leaned into her shoulder and left snot all over her robe, but that didn't matter a bit…

It was Molly's turn now. She gazed down at her beloved husband's face, now clearly evident as his figure lay on the table. She imagined that she could actually touch him now, though it was dangerous, oh so dangerous, but part of her didn't care.

She took a deep breath. "I loved you at Hogwarts, and I have never touched another man since. Part of me will always long for you, and it hurts like nothing else to have you gone from me. Before we were mother and father, we were husband and wife, and before that, we snogged in back of the scoring shed like thousands of other couples. Oh, Arthur, how can I live without you? But I must, I must, for the children we gave each other need me." She closed her eyes and swallowed. This was the real good-bye, the forever one.

"We'll manage somehow without you. Do not try to come back again, my beloved, save this last time. You were never a coward, so I know you won't become a ghost. I know, I hope, I wish I will dream of you and your love. It meant so much to me…"

She wiped her eyes again. "I loved you so, and you are gone. I can't say any more…"

Molly sat down and waited. Now it was Arthur's turn to speak. The ghostly figure of Arthur Weasley rose up from the table from where he lay. This would be the last time he would ever address them till they themselves had passed.

"Oh, my darlings, I will miss you so." His voice lacked the strength it once had when he was living. "But I'll be with you in your hearts, and if ever I need to, I will rise with the rest of the Weasleys buried in back, as long as my bones remain. This weather will dissolve the rest of me almost as fast as flame would, so there is little danger that I can be used against you. Anybody who tries will find out the hard way how I and the others will fight to defend this land, and those who live upon it."

The ghostly figure looked around him. "As long as all the living stand together, our family, and our world cannot be defeated. And that includes you, Harry.

"I know the game the rest of you must play with Percy, and he's right—one word out of any of you, and he'll be lying next to me before next year is out. If you lacked reason to learn that Occlumency stuff before, you have it now. He's trusted you with his life, when he could have reasoned that what you don't know can't be Crucio'd out of you, but he chose your love over his own safety."

Harry hung his head low, probably wishing he hadn't given Snape so much backtalk the previous year. Molly wished she knew more of that herself, she probably carried enough secrets to send half the Order into hell if someone asked her hard enough. Well, if she had to take lessons from one of her own children, it wouldn't be the first time. And if any of them were captured by the other side, a lot of them would be dead meat anyway. All the better to win instead.

Arthur's shade looked around and given that this was likely his last look at home, she didn't blame him. He spoke again. "Aunt Muriel, no one is likely to come knocking at your door, but keep your wand handy anyway. The Potters thought they were safe, with the Fidelius and all, and look what happened to them. You might think to move in with someone else, living alone the way you are you might offer them a ready target."

"Everyone knows how much I disapprove of you, and how disliked I am by most of the rest of the family," the old woman said with spirit. "But it's been a while since I had a good gossip with Augusta Longbottom. No doubt she and I can hatch some mischief together."

"Good," Arthur's ghost said with a firm nod. "Nanny, you may have guests sooner than you think, and we appreciate your hospitality, and willingness to do in our enemies should they cross your threshold. You have the right bloody-minded spirit that our family stands for."

"This is not Lancre's fight, but you might be surprised who shows up when it's time for yours," Nanny Ogg said. "We have our own evils that you'd not like much either, and so there might be time when we call for help ourselves."

"Then you will have it!" Molly said. "I belong to both places and want to see them free."

Arthur nodded. "Bill, I do not grudge one Knut put forward to your place at Gringotts. Remind those goblins that you have one if they ever try to pull anything funny, too. Molly's better taken care of than you think, but be sure to raise a ruckus if one of them tries to take advantage of your mother. Charlie, keep the peace the best you can. And don't forget how far a dragon can fly if we need one."

Charlie nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes, Dad. I won't forget."

"Percy, you won't be able to come home again for a long time, if ever, but you're in our hearts all the same. That'll be cold comfort some of the time, but it's the best we can do. Don't forget we love you."

"Yes, Dad," Percy said, then bit his lip.

"Gred and Forge, play your worst pranks on your enemies, not your friends, and be right careful which people you pick for enemies. If you forget, I will remind you, and you won't like it. Save something up for worse days, or you'll lose the element of surprise."

"Yes, Dad—" "Of course, Dad."

"Good. Ronald, Harry, stand together the way you have in the past, and don't leave out anyone who can help you, even if you think they're from the wrong house. I was proud as anything when I heard about that DA of yours, but you didn't ask enough people. Don't make the same mistake this next time around. I know I was hard on the Snakes when I was in school, and maybe that's what's part of what's wrong these days. Feuds have to end, but sometimes that's when everyone is dead. You can do better than I did, or those who came right after me. There are reasons that people from all the Houses joined the Death-Eaters the first time around, and I'm afraid we were part of it—and Harry, your dad and godfather were worse than I and my friends were. That's why I told Bill not to get involved with that lot or try to start it up again when he went to Hogwarts, and I wished I'd said the same to the twins."

Molly eyed the two young men with her 'you will tell me about it or die' look. And they certainly squirmed around as much as if they'd gotten the itch somewhere it wasn't fun.

"Ron, we didn't add Harry to our family because we thought you weren't worthy. You have a future ahead of you, at least I hope you do, but don't throw away your life just because you don't think we care. We do. We passed you over too many times for the others, and we're sorry for it."

Molly nodded. She was so embarrassed about the robes, she felt her face growing hot over it. Ron gulped, and sat down.

Arthur's shade looked fondly at his newest son. "Harry, you don't have to be a house elf just so we'll keep you. I don't blame you for wanting to hide from the lot we've had in the parlor, but you can be a boy here, not the great hope of the Wizarding World. You'll need help with Grimmauld Place, though, and I hope you have your mum with you. And you know that all of us will be with you when the time comes. You won't be able to keep them away to keep them safe so don't even try. Oh, Harry, I know this is hard for you. But we all love you and will stand at your side."

Harry had to turn away and put his hands up to his face. Molly so wanted to take him in her arms right then, but knew she had to let him come to her. He sat down beside Ron and tried to pretend he wasn't crying.

"Ginny…oh, Ginny, my darling. My sweet girl." It looked like Arthur was crying now. "Tell your mum when the darkness bothers you, love. It wasn't your fault, what happened your first year at Hogwarts. No one can fight You-Know-Who on their own, especially an eleven-year -old girl. And tell your mum how you really feel about some of the boys. She would understand better than you think. I will miss you so much."

Ginny couldn't talk, her face was buried in her own handkerchief and she was shaking with the force of her sobs. Molly knew what Arthur's face had looked like the moment the baby girl had been placed in his arm—it was a different look than with his sons, fierce and tender and protective all at once. I will protect you just as much, she vowed. Before they went back to school, she'd have a quiet moment with all her children, even if she had to sneak into Percy's office under Harry's cloak.

And now, now it was her turn to hear Arthur's last words. "Beloved," he said like a breath of summer. "We had ourselves quite a time together, didn't we? Seven, no, eight children and sometimes the neighbor's extras. And a house full of love. And you, always you, making the hearth light up in my heart. Other parts, too." He had a wicked grin on his face. "Making those children was fun, too. I was so looking forward to the war being over, with keeping grandchildren out of the fire and scaring them with stories about the ghoul in the attic. You will have to have those years for me, Mollywobbles."

She let the tears run down her face unchecked. That name always made her feel weak in the knees and her thighs ready for him.

Arthur's ghost looked around at the rest of the family. "I have a few more words, but for your Mum's ears alone. Fred, George, don't send down your Extendibles unless you want to hear things that will set even them to burning."

The children fled, even Bill.

He faced her again and spoke in a low voice. "Molly, don't mourn me forever. You were never made to be a woman alone since you first blossomed. I know you'd gladly pledge to wear my ring forever just now, but don't. Give me my year, that's all I ask."

She hung her head in embarrassment. He was probably right. "I will give you anything you ask, Arthur my king," she said, using the nickname she meant in all seriousness.

"Then know that I would never ask you to keep your bed forever empty. Bill found the magazines out in the shed, but you need to read them too. If you had ever invited another to share with you, I might not have been as jealous as you thought."

"I…I had a dream that night, the night after that horrible party…you know, after we made the ointment together." She felt her face go as hot as the fire in the hearth.

"I had the same kind of dream, but part of me knew someone else was there, too," he said. "And you could choose much worse than him. He'd treat you right or I'd come back and let him know about it, too. But even Moody could probably show you a few things we never learned at Hogwarts."

"What you must think of me!"

"I think that you are beautiful, yes, even now, and could have any man you wanted, even He Who Must Not Be Named if he liked women at all," Arthur said. "Though I'd like to think you had better taste!"

They both had a good laugh over that, though Molly thought if taking the scaly serpent to bed would win the war, she'd invite him over that evening even with the children staying overnight.

"Seriously, my love, the children will object, but if you pick the right man it will be all right with me." He looked around, as if he heard something beyond her knowing. "I have to go—oh, my love…"

And then he faded away.

She called everyone back in, though Percy had to leave. Only one brief hug from him, and he was gone, too.

Molly took a deep breath and a sip of the Firewhiskey someone had brought. Time to do her duty and hold this family together.

Voldemort closed the pages of the day's Daily Prophet. The obituary for Arthur Weasley had been long and fulsome—he had not been terribly important, obviously, but he had been well-known and had had many friends. The description of his widow had not been quite so complimentary, but still, she was considered a good woman by most. Seven children, now including the most irritating Harry Potter. Snape was undoubtedly correct to dismiss the boy save as a figurehead, but Voldemort had felt the boy's strength nearly a year and a half ago, and it had held him off though the boy had only been fifteen at the time. It would grow. The time to remove the boy from the board was now, not in some mythical confrontation for the ages a few years from now. Some wizards, like Snape, grew in strength till they were quite old, in fact. Dumbledore himself was beginning to fade, but not nearly soon enough.

Timing was everything, Voldemort thought. Yes, I do rush my fences, and that is why I have lost in the past. If I only wait till summer for some of what I want, I will have much less interference. Children who might otherwise band together are often separated, and don't think of warfare when busy playing Quidditch in some back garden. Granted, Mr. Potter will likely stop at the Burrow this time rather than with his odious Muggle relatives, but the principle holds.

He looked around the ruins of Riddle Manor. Some of it had been repaired, but only the bits that would not show to Muggle eyes. Keeping a constant concealment charm on any one place was asking for some annoying Auror to stumble across it and wonder why. At least the few rooms here were warm and as comfortable as they could be made through Muggle means. Fortunately, the electrician had been Imperiused and then Obliviated, as the plumber had been. The utilities were paid through a bank far too low on the food chain to be investigated by anyone, even though he was certain that Albus Dumbledore had not forgotten his real name nor that of his Muggle family. Bellatrix was with her kin for a change, who knew better than to talk of anyone who had been in Azkaban.

He didn't like reading death notices, even the ones he had caused last summer. While at the orphanage, he'd been forced to attend a few for some of the other orphans. Jamie's had been the worst…but even at his young age back then, he'd found a way to avenge the boy. He forced himself back into the present.

"Well, Pettigrew, how was the ceremony?" he asked Wormtail, who had been standing just outside the circle of warmth provided by the register and the hearth—which was on a little network of its own so far unnoticed by the authorities. Apparating people through the Mark was a chore, and those who preferred a special Floo and were on the inside circle kept him from having to use the other method all the time.

"A mob all the time," the rat said, who looked glum. No doubt his new apprentice had had to be there as well. "No chance to get out and about till it was quite late, and nowhere to hide save under the sofa. Even then, the family wards kicked everyone out, including me, once that part started."

"I'm surprised they were outside for that long," the Dark Lord said.

"Well, apparently, the bones of old Weasley were bound to the land instead of Incendio. I think anyone who tries to make an Inferius out of him might not like the result. But he'd laid on the table long enough during the wake that his spirit was able to come out there for his last speeches, or so I heard from the lads once they had to come back upstairs. Seems the loving husband had a few last words for his wife," Pettigrew said with a leer. "I saw plenty when I lived there, and I'm sure he had lots to say!"

Voldemort pursed his lips in disgust. "I expect so," he said curtly. "You must be quite attentive to young Mr. Weasley, your apprentice. Being around his family is likely giving him thoughts of backing out."

"Already sent him a note," the rat said. "But you're right, my lord, he could use a bit of cosseting."

"Now, who was there from Hogwarts? I would be quite surprised if the paper listed everyone who visited."

"Old Snape stopped by in the morning, but he didn't get so much as a cuppa. He went out to the back garden to be grilled by the old biddy who came in to help Mol—I mean, Mrs. Weasley." He licked his lips. "Now there's a widow who won't stay one more than the usual year."

"She is not for you, Mr. Pettigrew. Besides, is there not a younger Weasley woman that is more to your taste?"

Pettigrew looked guilty, but then he usually did. "I never thought to touch her, my lord, only look. She's a sweet thing, but I thought you might want her for yourself."

Not very likely, he thought. Bella would send a Reducto the girl's way if she even thought Miss Weasley attracted my eye. But she won't mind torturing the rat a little bit for reaching beyond his station. "That remains to be seen. The girl might throw herself into battle and end up dead before I could really claim her, though from what I have heard, she has attracted a lot of attention." Plus, dear rat, she is likely to gut you in your sleep. "However, I would hate for you to feel neglected. Please, take this token of appreciation for your hard work, and enjoy yourself." He handed Wormtail an envelope a token similar to the one he had offered to Snape, though he had enjoyed having Narcissa be the one to deliver it that time. Yes, looking at Pettigrew's grin reminded him that he had to be the bearer of gifts as well as punishment.

Then again, Snape's present might take a long time to deliver, but the process had already begun. Voldemort smiled, then reopened the paper. The Harpies were doing annoyingly well this week…

Molly and Nanny Ogg made breakfast for the family that next morning, and then waved good-bye to them. Bill would be in and out till after Christmas, but the rest wouldn't be back for a few weeks. The youngest three had to return to Hogwarts, Charlie to Romania, Percy was already gone, and Aunt Muriel had decided to visit Augusta Longbottom for a few days, possibly to confer about mutual defense—though Molly would put Augusta up against her weight in Death Eaters. The twins had already checked on their shop several times during this last week and were off again to it after they'd eaten. They swore they would be back, though, if only to sponge out of her kitchen.

She assured herself that her home would be full again at Christmas, and tried really hard not to think about the quiet days after. Her grandmother would be here at need anyway, though Molly didn't want to bother her too much—she had the rest of the family back in Lancre to see to as well.

Then it was time for the Hogwarts three to go back. Albus had opened the Floo for them, and she smiled and waved farewell at them, and told them to let her know when they were caught up on their school work, and not to make Hermione do it all for them. "And I would love to see her come with you at Christmas, if her parents don't have other plans. I loved having her here this summer, and wouldn't mind winter, either." Ron lit up like a firework when she said that. Yes, she had been a fool about the Muggleborn girl, and it was about time she faced up to it.

Harry seemed reluctant to go, and she couldn't blame him, here he could be just a boy, while at Hogwarts he had a Destiny hanging over him. Ginny could hardly face her but smiled anyway—they'd had quite the talk about boys, and the potion her daughter would need if she decided to experiment a bit. "Just drink it once a day, dear, and then if your impulses get the better of you, you won't need the other one," Molly had told her. Both of them had been red-faced by the end of it, but a lot of things had been cleared up. By now, more stories of her past social life were out and around anyway, and Ginny might as well stay out of fights over it.

Charlie then went on his broom—he was going to London for his Portkey and the weather wasn't quite as bad today, so he thought he'd rather have some fresh air than end up all ash-covered from the Floo. She waved him off, too.

Then it was just her and Nanny, and the dishes and cleaning were done all too soon.

"Well, now comes the hard part," her granny said. "When the house is empty and nobody's coming home is when it hurts the most. But you have to live through that part, too. You might choose unwisely just to have a warm body in the bed next to you, and I've done it myself a couple of times. Better to hold off and find what it's like to be by yourself than to have a drunk or a brute trying to rule your life. I know, you haven't been alone like that since you were a child, but it would be too easy to grab the first one coming by and regret it later."

"I know," Molly said. "My cousin Sirius showed me what some men are like in their cups, and I'd end up running through husbands the way Madam Zabini is said to. I hear there's a betting book out whenever she marries as to how long the new one will last. Surprised anyone's left who's dumb enough to think he'll live by now, really."

Nanny wrinkled her nose. "I knew one like that, though not in Lancre, but in forn parts, and she finally married one who did her in. I expect the same thing will happen to this one unless she stops marrying."

"True. As rich as she is now, you'd think she could stop, unless it's killing the men she likes," Molly said, and took a sip of her tea.

"Ah. Now that's a thought. Pity she doesn't marry all the men on the other side, then."

"Well, that's mainly the ones who are dead…" Molly thought about it for a moment. "Maybe we'll just let her have at it. Too bad You-Know-Who doesn't fancy her!"

They both cackled at that thought.

Then it was quiet. Molly twitched to be up and doing something, but discovered it'd all been done. Normally, when this was the case, she'd be over to Grimmauld Place, where there was always everything to be done, and Kreacher to trip over on top of it.

She got up and switched on the wireless, and they both enjoyed the music, and Nanny had some good comments about the commercials. "I can just imagine the kind they would have in Lancre if we had anything like this," she said. "Bus the Butcher has killed a cow and if you want the lights and livers, you'd better get there faster than his cat. The King and Queen are expecting and hope to have a girl this time. Don't bother Jason the guard about the Queen till noon, she's still puking before then and won't appreciate hearing from you. Granny Weatherwax is making more of the ointment, the right flowers for it finally bloomed in her garden. Also, she says you should eat more prunes and you won't have as much trouble anyway. Mrs. Collop, your little boy has run off without his clothes again, you can fetch him at Nanny's cottage where he's having a grand time pulling up weeds. Well, we hope they're weeds."

Molly thought of some more announcement that the wireless here could do. "Fudge has got a new bowler, everyone at the Ministry say something nice about it if you want a Christmas bonus this year. Madam Umbridge, your cat plates are all blank and the wretched things are running out the door into Muggle London. Dumbledore, there's a new shipment of Fizzing Whizbees at Honeydukes, how many boxes do you want us to set aside for you? Professor McGonagall, we could use your help rounding up those cats of Umbridge's and there's some tasty fish in it for you…"

Nanny Ogg raised her eyebrow.

"Oh, she can turn into a cat if she likes," Molly says. "She even has the markings for her glasses. I told her not to do it around here, but if she did, to keep a sharp eye out for the ghoul."

"How on earth did you end up with a ghoul?"

"Inherited it, Arthur grew up in the room in the attic closest to him and wouldn't turn him out on a bet. It does make it impossible to keep pets, unless they fly, and I really should have wondered how Scabbers managed to survive all that time, but there you are. He's really handy, though, we had a burglar once who fled upstairs and we never heard of the fellow again. Once that story went around, we weren't bothered any more. And if someone is really annoying, we just put him or her on the 'feed to the ghoul list' and move on."

"Did the ghoul really…."

"No, we just Petrified the fellow, and said if he spread the story that the ghoul ate his partner, the one he didn't actually have, we'd let him go this once. He was more than happy to do it, too. We warned him that if he didn't, we'd let the twins have a go at him. Even at their age then, they had ideas."

"Yes, I've seen some of them." Nanny Ogg went tsk. "Menaces, both of them. Still, if the worst happens, I imagine they'll make a hole in the enemy. Let's hope they don't do the same to their friends."

Molly remembered some of the times Arthur had had to rescue Ron from them, and the one time she'd had to rescue Ginny—she'd hated whipping them both, but it seemed to be the only way to make sure they never tried anything on their little sister again. I should have worked harder to keep them from ragging on Percy, too, she thought. Or Ron, for that matter, I could tell he's convinced I care nothing for him. It might be too late to change his mind, and I could lose him the way we almost lost Percy, and still could. She wasn't about to minimize the danger her third boy was in. 'I've hoped for the same, and for a lot longer," she said in reply.

She had never done as much as she could to make the twins mind; they had reminded her so much of Fabian and Gideon—or Gabian and Fideon, as they had sometimes called themselves—that she never could stay angry with them for long.

Molly sighed. "Nothing is funny. And it won't be any more, not for a long time." Tears ran down her face. "I don't know what to do!"

"Go ahead and cry, love, you've earned it," her Nanny said. "I will miss that man myself. It hurts to see anyone I care for so broken-hearted, but weep away, it will do you good."

She complied, and dampened a whole dishcloth before she was done. These were not the last tears she would shed, she was certain, but for now the flood had dried a bit.

"Well, I'd better go see to the pigs," Molly said. "I haven't been out there all this time, they've probably forgotten who I am."

"Oh, I doubt that," Nanny said with a laugh. "Pigs and men always know where their bread is buttered."

Molly thought of Arthur again, and more moisture leaked. But she rose from her chair and went to the barn anyway. Ginny had done her fair share and more while she wept for her father, she could pour the feed and cry at the same time.

Tonight would be worse, and when Nanny went home—that would be the worst. What would she do for the nights when nobody would be home at all but her?