Not Forgotten
The Speakers
Part two: half-truths
The dramatics in Gryffindor tower were astounding. All of the Weasley children were hugging a hysterical Ginny who, by screaming, woke the entire dormitory. And they weren't just there for her comfort; Ginny was hugging Ron, George and Fred who all seemed very ashen. All the students were wondering why this was happening, and they wanted answers. But answers would have to wait. Professor McGonagall heard the commotion and started doing what she did best: shoeing people off to bed.
"Nothing to see here, back to your beds… Boys! You shouldn't even be on this side of the tower! Come on… out. I said OUT!"
With much grumbling the crowd of no-longer-sleepy Gryffindors headed back to their respective dorms. The Weasleys weren't moving. Ginny was still sobbing, Ron had tears trickling down his cheeks and Fred and George were visibly distressed. They were all in their own little world of uncertainty and slowly they were using each other's presence and unique strengths to understand. They were jerked out of their reprieve by a certain headmaster who wanted to speak with them.
"Will you come with me?" said Dumbledore.
The siblings talked with their eyes and came to the silent conclusion that they had to go. They need to tell someone who could understand, someone who would help them. Ron wiped Ginny's eyes as they got up.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"No," she smiled although tears were running down her face. "But I'll survive."
Ron hugged her, and led her by her wrists to follow Dumbledore.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Something was wrong. He usually never dreamed, the product of having very little imagination to speak of. Yet night after night, the same nightmare haunted him. It was always the same. The yard, the scream, and then… nothing. Dull yet eerie.
"I'm going crazy," Percy told himself firmly. Nothing ever happened. He couldn't even remember any yard like that, and his memory was perfect. And even if he had, the little girl was clearly a product of what little imagination he had. He only had one sister, one who at the time he was six hadn't been born yet. He would definitely have known if he had more than one sister. Still…it unsettled him in a way the things usually didn't. He didn't like not knowing what things meant.
"Maybe you're just crazy," he told himself sternly. If you go home, you'll see that everything's fine, which it is, and you'll stop having these crazy dreams." That determined, he set about preparing for work, determined to take time off from his busy schedule to go home for Christmas. Not that he had any reason. Of course not. He just felt like it, that's all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After settling into the headmasters office; which was rather difficult, as Ginny refused to detach herself from Ron's pajamas, Professor Dumbledore took a seat in front of the four with a soft, comforting smile in his wrinkled face.
"It seems there was quite a stir back there, wasn't there?" he asked kindly. Ginny merely sniffled into Ron's shirt and Fred and George exchanged glances.
"Might I ask what this was all about?" he continued, pressing for explanation.
Fred looked up, distressed and pale. "It was Ginny, but it wasn't. She walked off, and then…." He trailed off.
"And the funeral… all those people…she was dead. But it couldn't have been her…" Ron continued, shaking his head and hugging his sister. Ginny gave out a strangled sob, burying her face.
"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said; though it appeared as if he had no more of an idea than they did. "Spirits often try to contact the living in familiar forms, though this puzzles Me.." His face creased in concentration lines.
Ginny looked up, her face streaked with tears. "She…. She looked at me. Right at me and…and. and screamed! It was…him. He just killed her! Right there!" she burst out in sobs as realization dawned on the old mans face.
"Oh dear," he said with a combination of sorrow and resignation. "Why don't you four go back and gets some sleep. I will excuse you from all classes tomorrow. I need to write a letter…." He trailed off and picked up a quill. They took this as a sign that they could leave and slowly slipped out. Upon reaching the Gryffindor tower, they opted to settle in the common room rather than their respective dorms for what appeared to be a long night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She couldn't get to her. All the people in grays and blacks were milling about, some just standing there. Becca was going to be hurt. Molly looked up at the yellow sky. She might be hurt already! She had to get to her. Molly was running, or at least trying to. The statues in black and gray started to grab at her. And scratch at her. Trying to keep her from her baby girl.
Molly screamed at the top of her lungs. She creatures (she didn't think of them as human; they were keeping her from her baby) backed away at her wrathful scream. Molly paused, surprised by their change in demeanor. Then she took her chance and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Slowly the crowds of people changed to crowds of trees. Molly kept running. She was near here. Maybe she could save her this time. Maybe…
Molly suddenly came to a clearing. She stopped on the edge. It was eerily quiet. Suddenly there was rustling in the underbrush. Molly looked around and cried out when she saw what was making the noise. It was Becca. Bloody, scratched, and suffering Becca. She was crawling towards her mother, looking sinisterly at her.
Becca's voice was raspy while she said the words that Molly was sure she felt. "You left me alone." Molly gulped as tears ran down her face. "You abandoned me, you left me to die. It's all your fault."
Becca reached out to her mother. "Help me… don't forget me!"
Molly woke with a start, tears on her face. "That dream," she whispered, "always gets me." She was now too awake to sleep again. Not disturbing Arthur who had come in late last night, she padded down the stairs in her socks to magically make coffee. She opened the window above the sink letting the cool air come into the kitchen.
A sinking feeling came over her. This was something she had developed over the years. If something was wrong with her children, this happened. The dream, the sinking feeling, and then she got the warning, or even worse, the notice. The last thing she wanted to see came towards her. It was an owl.
"Oh, my great wizards." She was afraid. What had happened to her children now? The caramel colored owl came and landed on the table. It preened it's self for a moment and then flew off. Molly's hand was shaking. What had happened to her babies? She reached for the letter and quickly tore it open, hating the suspense. Contained in the letter was this note.
Molly,
Last night, there seemed to be a bit of a problem concerning your four children. It seems that each had rather…distressing and vivid dreams. Ginny was clearly distressed, though I could not seem to get a clear description out of her. It also seems that each of your three sons also had a rather disturbing dream, each concerning a certain family member who may be in contact. It seems to me that it would be wise to have them come home for the winter holidays.
Albus Dumbledore
She set the letter in her lap and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. 'Family member who may be in contact.' The line kept running through her head. "Becca." she murmured under her breath. "They didn't do anything to you. Leave them alone. *I* was the one who left you with an inept muggle. They don't remember you. They don't know..."
BA-BAM! A loud noise shattered the silence in the house. Molly forgot about her self-pity and yelled. "Ghoul! We never have any peace and quiet in this house. NEVER! Don't do it again or I'll..." BA-BAM!
"That's it. " She screamed. "I'm coming up there!"
Her pounding footsteps were echoed by the BA-BAM of a heavy object being dropped on the attic floor. She ran up the final flight of stairs and practically tore down the door to the attic. The ghoul had picked up a large wooden trunk. She took in a breath, not wanting to see it hit the ground. The ghoul cackled and fall the trunk did. The sides were splitting open, it's contents revealed through the new vents. It was baby stuff, mostly blue, a little pink, from the children. Cherished stuff. Things that mothers don't want damaged. And so Molly went into another rage.
"We give you pipes and chains!" she screamed. "Those are for you to make noise with! All we ask is that you leave our trunks and boxes alone! All we ask!" She whipped out her wand, muttered an incantation and sent the ghoul to the farthest corner of the attic.
Slowly she turned to look at the damage to the trunk. She sighed. It wasn't unfixable. The trunk was easy to repair, but nothing could be in it when she used the charm. Besides, she wanted to make sure nothing was broken. Molly unlocked the trunk, and carefully lifted out the layers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He sat, staring at the small portrait in his hands. It was like any other, but for some odd reason, something seemed to be missing; though he couldn't figure out what for the life of him. Sighing, he set the picture back down on his small dresser.
Bill paced his small room worriedly, trying to figure out some way to tell the head of his Gringotts project that he needed to go home just as they were about to break through some of the hardest spells they had ever encountered.
"Running home to mom, Bill?" he whispered to himself. "One little nightmare and you're running back home like a little boy. You're 25, not 10. Get a grip!" All the same, he decided that in the morning he'd ask for a small vacation for the winter holidays, just to check up on the family. After all, he hadn't seen his brothers or sister in, well, years it seemed. And it probably was. He usually lost track of time while on the job; it was very time consuming.
"I guess I'll have to tell him some time or another," he said resignedly. "I need to go home, but don't ask me why." He sighed and set about preparing what he was going to say the next day when he asked for leave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The trunk was packed strangely. Molly realized that immediately. She thought nothing of it as she walked down memory lane. On top was Bill's stuff. His pacifier, his baby blanket, a lock of his hair, a few of his more treasured toys, his first wand. All of those childish affects. Under that were Charlie's things. His toy broom being the most defining thing there. Beneath of Charlie's things were Percy's. Percy was always a smart one, and his mother's keepsake was the first book he had read; Boo goes the Bogart, when he was four. The next layer was a layer of twos. Two pacifiers, two blankets two stuffed bugs. They were all the twin's things. The layer beneath the doubled one was significantly smaller. It was Ron's and he had gotten most of the hand-me-downs. His teddy bear was there, though. The one that Fred and George had turned into a spider. She laughed at that and smiled at the next part. It was all in pink. It was Ginny's. Her teddy bears her toys. Girl toys. Stuff that got sent away… after. She took that out and got ready to do a restoration charm when she realized there was more in the box.
A pink blanket, a rattle, hair ribbons. A birth certificate… and a death certificate. All from Becca. All from her. Her most treasured toy was there. The toy she took everywhere with her. It was lying nestled in folded blanket. It was a sock monkey. It was worn, ripped and faded. Molly could close her eyes and see her hugging it on the morning of her first Christmas. Molly reached out for it. That was all that anyone had left of her, besides Molly. Molly had the memories, the pain, guilt. Arthur had the memories too, but he wasn't her mother. He didn't understand her grief. Molly's hands grabbed the monkey and hugged it close to her pretending it was Becca. Then she closed her eyes and just remembered.
Bill was holding Ron, which was a good thing. Molly was limp with sobs. It was all she could do to stay standing, even in Arthur's strong grip. If Becca's grave had been a pyre, Molly would have thrown herself on it.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Rebecca's body has returned to the earth from which she came."
She didn't come from dust… she came from me. I gave birth to her, I nurtured her, and I… let her die. Her sobs came harder now.
"Though she was young, her mission on this world had been completed, she was free to go to her Heavenly Father."
Her only father is on *this* world. Arthur is her only father. No God would let her die. "My baby." She whispered to no one.
"We now commit her body to the earth, until the day that Christ comes and resurrects us all." They lowered the small white coffin into the earth and the people started to leave. As soon as the crowd had dissipated some Molly let it all come out. Her wails of pure grief pierced the air and she sank she was sitting on the ground. George and Fred came up and hugged her, trying to soothe her. She stopped wailing only to scream.
"It's your fault! You sent her into the woods! If you hadn't come up with that hair-brained scheme of yours she wouldn't be six feet under!" she was screaming out of grief. The twins shied away.
She turned on her heal and she came to Percy. "You! You're the smart 'responsible' one! You didn't stop them from daring her! She wouldn't be doing a statue impression if you had stopped them!" Percy burst into tears. The day had been too much for him.
Charlie came up to hug Percy. He felt sorry for him. "You too Charlie!" she still screamed. "You were supposed to watch them!" All the remaining mourners were watching this out burst. "She was 50 yards away from you! Those gnomes were more important," she said in a taunting voice, "And now Becca is on the farming property in the sky!"
She was on a roll now, not stopping for provocation. She turned on Bill. "You…" she said menacingly. "You made me leave her! You were the whole reason she has 'gone to a better place'!"
She turned looking for another person to blame, but only came to herself. "She's dead. Just dead, and It's all my fault. All me, all me." She was sobbing hysterically by this time, and all her children weren't anywhere near her, afraid to come, afraid of her. They were each wondering if it was really their faults, if they were the reason she wasn't coming back anymore…
Molly was sobbing, oblivious to the fact she was still in the attic. She didn't care, she didn't realize that she was still in her memories.
In her memories she was sobbing too. In the living room, wrapped in a blanket. It was only nine, but all the kids were asleep. Arthur had done that for her, he and her both knew that she wasn't in the condition to do it her self. He came in, sat next to her and wrapped her arms around her.
"What are we going to do?" he asked.
"I've scarred them. That'll leave them in therapy for life." She whispered, tears flowing.
"Why did you do that?"
"I had to rationalize her death. It was no one's fault. Its You-Know-Who's if it's anyone's. But I can't help feeling guilty, and I can't see them not feeling guilty either."
"They do now. Bill was sobbing into his pillow when I turned off the light."
"I didn't really mean it. I wish they could just forget."
"Are you a witch, or aren't you?"
"Huh?"
"Think about what you just said."
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'I wish they could just forget'! They can forget!"
"They'd forget about Becca too." She pointed out.
"She'd still live in you. And they won't be in therapy." Arthur certainly thought it was the best thing to do.
"Okay…" she said reluctantly. "We should do it now, right?"
He nodded and led her by her hand upstairs to the children's rooms. She got out her wand and was about to perform the spell, but the idea of loosing her baby a second time stopped her. Tears rolled down her face as Arthur preformed the charm.
"Goodbye." She whispered for them. "Goodbye."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The color was washed from this place. Her skin tones were gray and the sky was the palest baby blue. The sun was golden and her hair was a pale red. It looked like a park, but on the ground where the grass should have been, there were clouds. Ginny was starting to panic; where was she? A voice then spoke. A young female voice.
"Ginny! Sister! There you are!"
Ginny turned with a start to see… another her. She was almost identical… heck! Almost! She *was* identical. Right down to the six-year-old bodies and pale yellow jumpers. "Who in the hell are you?"
"We're not in hell." The 'twin' said. She started skipping around Ginny. 'We're not in heaven either. We're between worlds, a sort of purgatory."
"Fine." Said Ginny, following her twin with her eyes. "Who are you?"
"Rebecca."
"Rebecca who?"
"Rebecca Weasley"
"And that would make you…"
"Your sister!" Becca laughed.
"I don't have a sister." Ginny said snidely, with so much conviction that Becca stopped skipping around her.
"Yes you do. I'm your sister. I love you. Don't hurt me by saying that you aren't my sister."
"Fine, you're my sister. How old are you again?"
"I'd be… sixteen if I were alive."
"You're not alive? What happened to you?"
Becca stopped skipping again. "Haven't you been getting my dreams?"
"That was you? Oh, great wizards."
"Ah, but none of them saved me." She started skipping again. "You'll understand in time." Becca stopped skipping in the circle around Ginny and started skipping off in to the serene looking woods. "Tell mum I love her. Tell them all I don't blame them!" she yelled as she skipped away. "Ginny! Don't forget me, and don't forget to tell them I don't blame them."
"I will!" Ginny yelled, sorry to see her go. "I will." She whispered.
Ginny sat up, slightly shaken by the encounter of… the… dead kind? She laughed to herself at that thought. She found herself back in her dorm room, the only one awake. It was the night after, and she still had gotten little sleep. Right now she really didn't want to be alone. The clock read quarter till midnight, and she knew that Ron was usually up this late with his friends. So Ginny slipped out of bed, and headed down the stairs to the common room where, sure enough, Ron was in one of the overstuffed crimson armchairs around the fire. Ginny didn't make her presence known, but quietly tiptoed up to his chair and curled her fourteen year-old frame in his fifteen-year-old lap.
"Are you okay?"
"A little, disjointed, I guess. I had another dream."
"We've talked about this. It isn't you, You-Know-Who isn't after you, it's only…"
"That's just it. I met the little girl in my dreams. She's our sister."
"You're my only sister…"
"Don't say that. It'll hurt her feelings."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Well, here it is! You asked for the second part and you got it. This one was a little sad; parts of it made us cry. ::sob:: Well, enough angst. Tell us what you think!!! Just use that little box right below, you know the one! Don't worry, there's more to come!!! Hopefully a little less angsty, who knows!
Claimer/Disclaimer: How much do I hate these? Let me count the ways… You all know what we do and do not own, right? Oh well, here goes. All mentioned characters are property of the wonderful J.K. Rowling. Except for Becca Weasley who is ALL OURS!!!!! Hear that? OURS! Hahahahahahaha!!!
The Speakers
Part two: half-truths
The dramatics in Gryffindor tower were astounding. All of the Weasley children were hugging a hysterical Ginny who, by screaming, woke the entire dormitory. And they weren't just there for her comfort; Ginny was hugging Ron, George and Fred who all seemed very ashen. All the students were wondering why this was happening, and they wanted answers. But answers would have to wait. Professor McGonagall heard the commotion and started doing what she did best: shoeing people off to bed.
"Nothing to see here, back to your beds… Boys! You shouldn't even be on this side of the tower! Come on… out. I said OUT!"
With much grumbling the crowd of no-longer-sleepy Gryffindors headed back to their respective dorms. The Weasleys weren't moving. Ginny was still sobbing, Ron had tears trickling down his cheeks and Fred and George were visibly distressed. They were all in their own little world of uncertainty and slowly they were using each other's presence and unique strengths to understand. They were jerked out of their reprieve by a certain headmaster who wanted to speak with them.
"Will you come with me?" said Dumbledore.
The siblings talked with their eyes and came to the silent conclusion that they had to go. They need to tell someone who could understand, someone who would help them. Ron wiped Ginny's eyes as they got up.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"No," she smiled although tears were running down her face. "But I'll survive."
Ron hugged her, and led her by her wrists to follow Dumbledore.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Something was wrong. He usually never dreamed, the product of having very little imagination to speak of. Yet night after night, the same nightmare haunted him. It was always the same. The yard, the scream, and then… nothing. Dull yet eerie.
"I'm going crazy," Percy told himself firmly. Nothing ever happened. He couldn't even remember any yard like that, and his memory was perfect. And even if he had, the little girl was clearly a product of what little imagination he had. He only had one sister, one who at the time he was six hadn't been born yet. He would definitely have known if he had more than one sister. Still…it unsettled him in a way the things usually didn't. He didn't like not knowing what things meant.
"Maybe you're just crazy," he told himself sternly. If you go home, you'll see that everything's fine, which it is, and you'll stop having these crazy dreams." That determined, he set about preparing for work, determined to take time off from his busy schedule to go home for Christmas. Not that he had any reason. Of course not. He just felt like it, that's all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After settling into the headmasters office; which was rather difficult, as Ginny refused to detach herself from Ron's pajamas, Professor Dumbledore took a seat in front of the four with a soft, comforting smile in his wrinkled face.
"It seems there was quite a stir back there, wasn't there?" he asked kindly. Ginny merely sniffled into Ron's shirt and Fred and George exchanged glances.
"Might I ask what this was all about?" he continued, pressing for explanation.
Fred looked up, distressed and pale. "It was Ginny, but it wasn't. She walked off, and then…." He trailed off.
"And the funeral… all those people…she was dead. But it couldn't have been her…" Ron continued, shaking his head and hugging his sister. Ginny gave out a strangled sob, burying her face.
"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said; though it appeared as if he had no more of an idea than they did. "Spirits often try to contact the living in familiar forms, though this puzzles Me.." His face creased in concentration lines.
Ginny looked up, her face streaked with tears. "She…. She looked at me. Right at me and…and. and screamed! It was…him. He just killed her! Right there!" she burst out in sobs as realization dawned on the old mans face.
"Oh dear," he said with a combination of sorrow and resignation. "Why don't you four go back and gets some sleep. I will excuse you from all classes tomorrow. I need to write a letter…." He trailed off and picked up a quill. They took this as a sign that they could leave and slowly slipped out. Upon reaching the Gryffindor tower, they opted to settle in the common room rather than their respective dorms for what appeared to be a long night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She couldn't get to her. All the people in grays and blacks were milling about, some just standing there. Becca was going to be hurt. Molly looked up at the yellow sky. She might be hurt already! She had to get to her. Molly was running, or at least trying to. The statues in black and gray started to grab at her. And scratch at her. Trying to keep her from her baby girl.
Molly screamed at the top of her lungs. She creatures (she didn't think of them as human; they were keeping her from her baby) backed away at her wrathful scream. Molly paused, surprised by their change in demeanor. Then she took her chance and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Slowly the crowds of people changed to crowds of trees. Molly kept running. She was near here. Maybe she could save her this time. Maybe…
Molly suddenly came to a clearing. She stopped on the edge. It was eerily quiet. Suddenly there was rustling in the underbrush. Molly looked around and cried out when she saw what was making the noise. It was Becca. Bloody, scratched, and suffering Becca. She was crawling towards her mother, looking sinisterly at her.
Becca's voice was raspy while she said the words that Molly was sure she felt. "You left me alone." Molly gulped as tears ran down her face. "You abandoned me, you left me to die. It's all your fault."
Becca reached out to her mother. "Help me… don't forget me!"
Molly woke with a start, tears on her face. "That dream," she whispered, "always gets me." She was now too awake to sleep again. Not disturbing Arthur who had come in late last night, she padded down the stairs in her socks to magically make coffee. She opened the window above the sink letting the cool air come into the kitchen.
A sinking feeling came over her. This was something she had developed over the years. If something was wrong with her children, this happened. The dream, the sinking feeling, and then she got the warning, or even worse, the notice. The last thing she wanted to see came towards her. It was an owl.
"Oh, my great wizards." She was afraid. What had happened to her children now? The caramel colored owl came and landed on the table. It preened it's self for a moment and then flew off. Molly's hand was shaking. What had happened to her babies? She reached for the letter and quickly tore it open, hating the suspense. Contained in the letter was this note.
Molly,
Last night, there seemed to be a bit of a problem concerning your four children. It seems that each had rather…distressing and vivid dreams. Ginny was clearly distressed, though I could not seem to get a clear description out of her. It also seems that each of your three sons also had a rather disturbing dream, each concerning a certain family member who may be in contact. It seems to me that it would be wise to have them come home for the winter holidays.
Albus Dumbledore
She set the letter in her lap and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. 'Family member who may be in contact.' The line kept running through her head. "Becca." she murmured under her breath. "They didn't do anything to you. Leave them alone. *I* was the one who left you with an inept muggle. They don't remember you. They don't know..."
BA-BAM! A loud noise shattered the silence in the house. Molly forgot about her self-pity and yelled. "Ghoul! We never have any peace and quiet in this house. NEVER! Don't do it again or I'll..." BA-BAM!
"That's it. " She screamed. "I'm coming up there!"
Her pounding footsteps were echoed by the BA-BAM of a heavy object being dropped on the attic floor. She ran up the final flight of stairs and practically tore down the door to the attic. The ghoul had picked up a large wooden trunk. She took in a breath, not wanting to see it hit the ground. The ghoul cackled and fall the trunk did. The sides were splitting open, it's contents revealed through the new vents. It was baby stuff, mostly blue, a little pink, from the children. Cherished stuff. Things that mothers don't want damaged. And so Molly went into another rage.
"We give you pipes and chains!" she screamed. "Those are for you to make noise with! All we ask is that you leave our trunks and boxes alone! All we ask!" She whipped out her wand, muttered an incantation and sent the ghoul to the farthest corner of the attic.
Slowly she turned to look at the damage to the trunk. She sighed. It wasn't unfixable. The trunk was easy to repair, but nothing could be in it when she used the charm. Besides, she wanted to make sure nothing was broken. Molly unlocked the trunk, and carefully lifted out the layers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He sat, staring at the small portrait in his hands. It was like any other, but for some odd reason, something seemed to be missing; though he couldn't figure out what for the life of him. Sighing, he set the picture back down on his small dresser.
Bill paced his small room worriedly, trying to figure out some way to tell the head of his Gringotts project that he needed to go home just as they were about to break through some of the hardest spells they had ever encountered.
"Running home to mom, Bill?" he whispered to himself. "One little nightmare and you're running back home like a little boy. You're 25, not 10. Get a grip!" All the same, he decided that in the morning he'd ask for a small vacation for the winter holidays, just to check up on the family. After all, he hadn't seen his brothers or sister in, well, years it seemed. And it probably was. He usually lost track of time while on the job; it was very time consuming.
"I guess I'll have to tell him some time or another," he said resignedly. "I need to go home, but don't ask me why." He sighed and set about preparing what he was going to say the next day when he asked for leave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The trunk was packed strangely. Molly realized that immediately. She thought nothing of it as she walked down memory lane. On top was Bill's stuff. His pacifier, his baby blanket, a lock of his hair, a few of his more treasured toys, his first wand. All of those childish affects. Under that were Charlie's things. His toy broom being the most defining thing there. Beneath of Charlie's things were Percy's. Percy was always a smart one, and his mother's keepsake was the first book he had read; Boo goes the Bogart, when he was four. The next layer was a layer of twos. Two pacifiers, two blankets two stuffed bugs. They were all the twin's things. The layer beneath the doubled one was significantly smaller. It was Ron's and he had gotten most of the hand-me-downs. His teddy bear was there, though. The one that Fred and George had turned into a spider. She laughed at that and smiled at the next part. It was all in pink. It was Ginny's. Her teddy bears her toys. Girl toys. Stuff that got sent away… after. She took that out and got ready to do a restoration charm when she realized there was more in the box.
A pink blanket, a rattle, hair ribbons. A birth certificate… and a death certificate. All from Becca. All from her. Her most treasured toy was there. The toy she took everywhere with her. It was lying nestled in folded blanket. It was a sock monkey. It was worn, ripped and faded. Molly could close her eyes and see her hugging it on the morning of her first Christmas. Molly reached out for it. That was all that anyone had left of her, besides Molly. Molly had the memories, the pain, guilt. Arthur had the memories too, but he wasn't her mother. He didn't understand her grief. Molly's hands grabbed the monkey and hugged it close to her pretending it was Becca. Then she closed her eyes and just remembered.
Bill was holding Ron, which was a good thing. Molly was limp with sobs. It was all she could do to stay standing, even in Arthur's strong grip. If Becca's grave had been a pyre, Molly would have thrown herself on it.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Rebecca's body has returned to the earth from which she came."
She didn't come from dust… she came from me. I gave birth to her, I nurtured her, and I… let her die. Her sobs came harder now.
"Though she was young, her mission on this world had been completed, she was free to go to her Heavenly Father."
Her only father is on *this* world. Arthur is her only father. No God would let her die. "My baby." She whispered to no one.
"We now commit her body to the earth, until the day that Christ comes and resurrects us all." They lowered the small white coffin into the earth and the people started to leave. As soon as the crowd had dissipated some Molly let it all come out. Her wails of pure grief pierced the air and she sank she was sitting on the ground. George and Fred came up and hugged her, trying to soothe her. She stopped wailing only to scream.
"It's your fault! You sent her into the woods! If you hadn't come up with that hair-brained scheme of yours she wouldn't be six feet under!" she was screaming out of grief. The twins shied away.
She turned on her heal and she came to Percy. "You! You're the smart 'responsible' one! You didn't stop them from daring her! She wouldn't be doing a statue impression if you had stopped them!" Percy burst into tears. The day had been too much for him.
Charlie came up to hug Percy. He felt sorry for him. "You too Charlie!" she still screamed. "You were supposed to watch them!" All the remaining mourners were watching this out burst. "She was 50 yards away from you! Those gnomes were more important," she said in a taunting voice, "And now Becca is on the farming property in the sky!"
She was on a roll now, not stopping for provocation. She turned on Bill. "You…" she said menacingly. "You made me leave her! You were the whole reason she has 'gone to a better place'!"
She turned looking for another person to blame, but only came to herself. "She's dead. Just dead, and It's all my fault. All me, all me." She was sobbing hysterically by this time, and all her children weren't anywhere near her, afraid to come, afraid of her. They were each wondering if it was really their faults, if they were the reason she wasn't coming back anymore…
Molly was sobbing, oblivious to the fact she was still in the attic. She didn't care, she didn't realize that she was still in her memories.
In her memories she was sobbing too. In the living room, wrapped in a blanket. It was only nine, but all the kids were asleep. Arthur had done that for her, he and her both knew that she wasn't in the condition to do it her self. He came in, sat next to her and wrapped her arms around her.
"What are we going to do?" he asked.
"I've scarred them. That'll leave them in therapy for life." She whispered, tears flowing.
"Why did you do that?"
"I had to rationalize her death. It was no one's fault. Its You-Know-Who's if it's anyone's. But I can't help feeling guilty, and I can't see them not feeling guilty either."
"They do now. Bill was sobbing into his pillow when I turned off the light."
"I didn't really mean it. I wish they could just forget."
"Are you a witch, or aren't you?"
"Huh?"
"Think about what you just said."
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'I wish they could just forget'! They can forget!"
"They'd forget about Becca too." She pointed out.
"She'd still live in you. And they won't be in therapy." Arthur certainly thought it was the best thing to do.
"Okay…" she said reluctantly. "We should do it now, right?"
He nodded and led her by her hand upstairs to the children's rooms. She got out her wand and was about to perform the spell, but the idea of loosing her baby a second time stopped her. Tears rolled down her face as Arthur preformed the charm.
"Goodbye." She whispered for them. "Goodbye."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The color was washed from this place. Her skin tones were gray and the sky was the palest baby blue. The sun was golden and her hair was a pale red. It looked like a park, but on the ground where the grass should have been, there were clouds. Ginny was starting to panic; where was she? A voice then spoke. A young female voice.
"Ginny! Sister! There you are!"
Ginny turned with a start to see… another her. She was almost identical… heck! Almost! She *was* identical. Right down to the six-year-old bodies and pale yellow jumpers. "Who in the hell are you?"
"We're not in hell." The 'twin' said. She started skipping around Ginny. 'We're not in heaven either. We're between worlds, a sort of purgatory."
"Fine." Said Ginny, following her twin with her eyes. "Who are you?"
"Rebecca."
"Rebecca who?"
"Rebecca Weasley"
"And that would make you…"
"Your sister!" Becca laughed.
"I don't have a sister." Ginny said snidely, with so much conviction that Becca stopped skipping around her.
"Yes you do. I'm your sister. I love you. Don't hurt me by saying that you aren't my sister."
"Fine, you're my sister. How old are you again?"
"I'd be… sixteen if I were alive."
"You're not alive? What happened to you?"
Becca stopped skipping again. "Haven't you been getting my dreams?"
"That was you? Oh, great wizards."
"Ah, but none of them saved me." She started skipping again. "You'll understand in time." Becca stopped skipping in the circle around Ginny and started skipping off in to the serene looking woods. "Tell mum I love her. Tell them all I don't blame them!" she yelled as she skipped away. "Ginny! Don't forget me, and don't forget to tell them I don't blame them."
"I will!" Ginny yelled, sorry to see her go. "I will." She whispered.
Ginny sat up, slightly shaken by the encounter of… the… dead kind? She laughed to herself at that thought. She found herself back in her dorm room, the only one awake. It was the night after, and she still had gotten little sleep. Right now she really didn't want to be alone. The clock read quarter till midnight, and she knew that Ron was usually up this late with his friends. So Ginny slipped out of bed, and headed down the stairs to the common room where, sure enough, Ron was in one of the overstuffed crimson armchairs around the fire. Ginny didn't make her presence known, but quietly tiptoed up to his chair and curled her fourteen year-old frame in his fifteen-year-old lap.
"Are you okay?"
"A little, disjointed, I guess. I had another dream."
"We've talked about this. It isn't you, You-Know-Who isn't after you, it's only…"
"That's just it. I met the little girl in my dreams. She's our sister."
"You're my only sister…"
"Don't say that. It'll hurt her feelings."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Well, here it is! You asked for the second part and you got it. This one was a little sad; parts of it made us cry. ::sob:: Well, enough angst. Tell us what you think!!! Just use that little box right below, you know the one! Don't worry, there's more to come!!! Hopefully a little less angsty, who knows!
Claimer/Disclaimer: How much do I hate these? Let me count the ways… You all know what we do and do not own, right? Oh well, here goes. All mentioned characters are property of the wonderful J.K. Rowling. Except for Becca Weasley who is ALL OURS!!!!! Hear that? OURS! Hahahahahahaha!!!