By Kara
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its cast of characters and situations, and everything related doesn't belong to me. If it did, this wouldn't be called fanfiction. ;) But three cheers to J. K. Rowling, for coming up with such an incredible world to play in.
"Mummy, I wanna play outside." Molly felt a tug on her sleeve. She looked down over the sleeping head of her youngest son at her two oldest. Both boys wore similar pouting expressions under their bright red hair.
"Billy, I told you. You can't play outside. You have to stay in the house with Mummy." Molly had tried to be patient, but there was only so much that an eight year old and a seven year old could understand. Five year old Percy was perfectly happy to sit in the corner with his pad and paper, doing work "just like Daddy does", but Billy and Charlie just didn't understand why they had to stay inside all day long, when they really wanted to play with the broomsticks that Arthur had gotten them for their birthdays.
"But why, Mummy?" Charlie chimed in, a lizard squirming in his dirty little hands. "It's not raining, and Daddy made all the garden gnomes go away."
Molly looked at each boy's face before peering down into the cradle at her feet to make sure that baby Ginny was still sleeping. Fred and George were playing by the fireplace, looking over at Percy and talking to each other in their twin language. At least they were finally out of their terrible twos and no longer setting their jumpers on fire. Not that their threes were much better…
"Because it's easier for Mummy if we all play in the house, Charlie. Remember what Daddy said about staying inside where it's safe?" None of the parents let their children play outside anymore. Not since the Dark Mark had started appearing again. Not since babies had gone missing, wizard and Muggle alike.
Charlie sighed. "Mean old world. Why's it unsafe, Mummy? Can't Daddy make it all better?"
"Mummy! Rat!" Thankfully, before she could open her mouth, Fred or George tumbled over, a squirming white rat caught in his chubby hands. "Mummy, 's a rat!" He waved it at Molly, a cheeky grin on his face. Then, the twin held the rodent by its tail over the cradle. "Baby like the rat?"
"Fred!"
The toddler looked up at her, disdain on his dirty face. "Not Fred, Mummy. George."
Molly sighed. Arthur wanted to put a magical brand on each twin so that they would be able to tell the two apart, but she would have nothing to do with that. Spells on a baby, indeed. But now, since the twins could undress themselves and often exchanged the sweaters they wore with their initials on them just to confuse her… "I'm sorry, George..."
The little boy giggled. "Fool you, Mummy. Fred, not George. George! George! Lookit, a rat!" And Fred ran off towards his brother.
"Can we keep the rat, Mummy?" There was a hopeful look on Charlie's face. He loved animals, and it never surprised Molly to find a lizard or snake in his bed in the mornings.
"Yeah, Mummy. We'll take good care of him," Billy coaxed. "We can name him Scabbers."
Charlie stuck his tongue out. "That's a stupid name."
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
Before Molly could say anything to stop the boys from bickering, the clock chimed. "Look, boys, Daddy will be home soon." The longest hand on the clock moved from work to traveling, meaning that Arthur would be Apparating at any moment. "Who wants to help Mummy get dinner ready?"
"I do! I do! I do!" Her five oldest boys shouted, even the twins. Miraculously, Ronnie and Ginny slept through it. At least that was one blessing. None of her children had problems sleeping through noise…
"Billy, Charlie, you two can set the table. Percy, you take George and Fred to wash up." With a wave of her wand, the stew that had been bubbling in the cauldron over the fire floated over to the table, a spoon stirring the thick concoction. As the boys moved about, Molly stood up, Ron still cradled in her arms. Even at a year old, he was a gangly baby, with none of the dimples and pudginess that Fred, George, and Charlie still had. Already, there were signs that her youngest boy would take after his father, not just with the flaming red hair.
As Molly gave Ginny's cradle one last rock with a wave of her wand, Arthur Apparated. Though the boys greeted him with their usual exuberance, her husband seemed absent as he tossed each of the boys up in the air and gave them a huge hug.
"Boys, go wash up. I need to talk to Mummy." While he said nothing, his blue eyes spoke of something tragic that had happened-something that little red-haired pitchers didn't need to hear.
"What is it, Arthur?" Molly asked as her husband wrapped his arms around her and Ron.
"The Dark Mark, Molly love." His voice was grim.
"Who?" The Dark Mark was one of the reasons why Arthur was sure to come home before dark, and why the spells protecting the house were reinforced at the end of every week. Just because you never knew where You-Know-Who would strike next.
"The Potters, Molly. Lily and James."
The Potters had been two of the brightest students that Hogwarts ever turned out. Lily and James had been a few years behind her and Arthur in Gryffindor, but they'd still heard when Lily and James were made Head Girl and Boy at Hogwarts. It was rare that both head students came from the same house, and rarer yet that the two were as in love as the Potters. "But their son. They had a son, didn't they?" Last Molly had heard, they had a little boy, just about Ron's age. Unconsciously, she clutched the sleeping boy tighter to her chest.
"Voldemort used Avada Kedavra on James, and then Lily, but somehow, the boy lived." Arthur rested his chin on the top of her head. "Harry lived, Molly. He lived." Her husband was quiet for a long moment. "But the worst part…Sirius Black sold them out."
James' best friend at Hogwarts. Everyone knew how tight the two of them were, and how much trouble they gave Dumbledore. Teachers still talked about how Black and Potter had been two of the brightest stars in Hogwarts' history. But all Molly could think about was that little boy, all alone in the world…
"And Harry? What happens to him?"
Arthur's arms tightened about her. "Hagrid took him off to live with his Muggle relatives. Hopefully, in time, they'll explain what happened to him. But for now, he'll grow up like any other little boy."
"Daddy! Daddy! All clean now!" The boys came rushing back in, waving freshly-washed hands, smiles on their still-red faces.
Percy stopped. "Daddy, why are you crying?"
Arthur smiled as he sniffled a little, wiping his face on the sleeve of his work robe. "It's nothing, Percy. I had to confiscate some enchanted onions today, and they made the entire office cry."
"What else did you confiscate, Daddy? Were there any monsters or flying carpets or treasure?" Billy held up his arms to Arthur, waiting to be picked up and slung across his daddy's shoulders.
"Lots and lots of treasure, Billy. But you always have to remember to be careful when you touch treasure…"
"Because you never know if it's cursed," the eight year old boy finished solemnly.
As her boys and men settled around the table, Molly looked down at the peaceful face of the baby in her arms. Ronnie was just barely a year old, the same age as another boy left all alone in the world. For a moment, Molly closed her eyes and wished with all her might that someone would take care of that little boy. And for a moment, she thanked all that was powerful that her babies were all still safe. "For Harry Potter," she whispered, as the pitcher poured pumpkin juice for everyone at the table. "The boy who lived."