Chapter 3 – Crepe Expectations
There are only a few things in this world that have the power to shake the wizarding community to its very core. Wizards are, after all, by their very nature odd, so rains of snakes and people giving birth to kittens (especially animagi) aren't really that out of the ordinary. A few people and a few events have managed it. A young upstart tyrant by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle (later ol' Voldie himself) just about managed it, but he was nothing, an insignificant blip on the ECG of the wizarding world compared to the events of THE DAY. (To be fair to the Dark Lord he does get an honourable mention in THE DAY's events, but they really belong to another).
THE DAY did not, luckily for you, the reader and us the writer, involve wet nightshirts, eye gouging or loofas – it was far superior to THE EVENT in terms of significance, but a lot less amusing.
It began as a quiet, ordinary morning in Ottery St Catchpole with the sun trying its hardest to come out (hat optional) and shine on the leaning, rickety structure that was the Burrow. So far, the sun was not succeeding, possibly due to the clouds, and possibly to do with the fact that it couldn't find its favourite trilby and was sulking. Whatever the reason, it was pummelling at the clouds like a child at an uncomfortable pillow. Or maybe that was just me – call it the eye of faith, then.
Molly Weasley was in the kitchen, washing up the dishes that the morning's gorging which in some houses with less children, more manners and a sprinkling of house elves was called breakfast. She rolled the sleeves of a floral robe up to her elbows and tied a stripy apron around her ample frame. She hadn't noticed the stray soap suds in her hair when she kissed Arthur goodbye and shooed assorted children (most of whom came back to visit for meals, having learnt the ability to apparate rather than to cook) out of the door, and they still remained, adding, at first glance at least, a rather distinguished looking silver streak to her hair. At second glace she looked silly, but that's incidental.
The surrounding area was quiet, until the muffled "Ker-Splam" of someone apparating caused her to look up. Two of the Magical Law Enforcers loping up the winding path were known to Molly, so she gave them a cheery wave, put on the kettle and met them at the door.
"Morning Molly" began one that Molly recognised.
"Good Morning Neil. What can I do for you? I've already cleared up breakfast if that's what you're after, but the kettle's on…" Her voice trailed off as she headed to the kitchen.
"It's not that Molly" replied Neil, with a grin, "though we wouldn't say no." His companions nodded their agreement as the kettle began to steam.
"It's just a matter of clearing up, Mrs Weasley" offered the eldest of the Ministry officials.
Molly looked worried, then smothered it with a fussy frown, "Whatever do you mean Jack?"
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about" replied Neil, "Fletcher's cauldrons, some of the twins more, um, exotic, specimens, better we just collect it all up now and get rid, no more said. Can you imagine if the Prophet found out? Arthur would be a laughing stock, though there's nothing really dangerous about"
Molly smiled and nodded, "If you think it's best".
The fire burst suddenly into flames and Arthur's head appeared, "Hello love, boys. Jack, I'm glad I found you; Mad-eye's causing a fuss again, go and have a word would you? I'm sending Danny to help Neil; they can cope with the cauldrons, though it's a braver man than me that would willingly look under George's bed"
Nodding his assent, Jack got up and walked to the door. With a whoosh, Arthur was gone too.
"Bye Jack" called Molly "Oh, Neil, who is this Danny? I don't remember ever meeting a Danny."
Neil chuckled, "You know him Molly, you just think of him in short trousers. He followed his old man into the Ministry." She frowned, and in her best angry mother voice said "Neil Ronald McDonald, tell me right now"
"Yes miss."
Ker-Splam.
"Oh look, here he is now. Daniel, this is Molly Weasley. Molly, this is Daniel, Jack's son"
"Pleased to meet you Mrs Weasley. I've heard a lot about you. Dad says you do the best crepes this side of Belgium."
With that slightly odd compliment, Daniel snapped on his rubber gloves and began a thorough search of Fred and George's bedroom. Neil, being the wizarding equivalent of a career cop, picked up Fletcher's cauldrons, shrunk them to pocket size and was back in the kitchen in ten minutes.
Two hours later, all the items on the list had been found, but Daniel, being keen and fresh out of the MLE academy wanted to do a quick sweep of the house to make sure they had everything. Neil didn't complain that much – if they were much longer, Molly might invite them to tea.
With the Weasley family numbers reduced as they were and not looking to ever need the amount of space they now had available, the magical parts of the house which had been tacked on were removed. This lack of wards in the walls was possibly what made the glamour-covered trap door that much more visible. Or maybe the house was just quieter, and without the chance of being knocked down the stairs by flying trunks or careless children it was easier to pay attention to the surroundings. Whatever it was this resulted in a young, green MLE agent spotting a secret doorway in what was supposed to be a routine job. The blueprints of the Burrow were stored in the ministry in case of hostage situations, and this door was not on the schematics. Being a Gryffindor, Daniel gave no thought to the consequences.
Molly often pondered later what would have happened if he had been a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw (wondering what would happen if he was a Slytherin was just silly). He would probably have followed procedure and gone for back up, she would have spotted the signs and stunned them both. A memory charm and a spot of tea would have been the worst that happened to the officers. Daniel had cast a 'finite incantatem' but whilst that had knocked out most of the wards on the door, it activated a particularly nasty one which Lucius Malfoy had invented to keep Dobby out of his sock drawer.
Daniel walked through the door and died. We'd like to say instantly and painlessly, but he screamed long and loud so we guess he didn't. Another error, thought Molly, in hindsight, but locked in Azkaban, 20-20 hindsight wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
She'd had a cup of tea in her hand which affected her aim whilst attempting to stun Neil. If only she'd paid attention when she was in the Girl Guides – "Be Prepared" they said, and Molly wasn't. Shows you what happens when you don't listen to your parents. The misdirected stunning spell and the content of the (not so) hidden room added to the tattoo on her arm were more than enough to convict her as a Death Eater. You'd think the tattoo might have clued someone in, but Molly had commissioned a rather interesting latex prosthetic from Weta workshop and this had kept her dirty secret for a while. On the plus side, the apron she was wearing meant she didn't stain her dress when Neil's retaliatory spell smashed her tea cup.
This was how the arrest, trial and conviction that shocked the land began. It was wrong, they said, against an old charter, or something, for pleasant and homely mothers to be cold-blooded killers. And they were right.
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Molly Weasley's trial had been, if a foregone conclusion on the outcome, a source of keen interest on the details. The trial, as befitting the wife of a prominent politician, was long, in depth (on the details of the accused's personal life rather than the facts or even accusations of their crimes) and conducted mostly in the press rather than the courts.
The defendant was accused of treason (the whole Death Eater thing) but the testimonies of Jack and Neil the Aurors concerning the death of Daniel (Jack's son) and the contents of the hidden room was so conclusive as to be iron-clad. There is a certain folly in keeping a manuscript entitled 'How I Came to be a Death Eater by Molly Weasley'. Whilst highly informative and introspective (possibly overly-so, there are only so many details you can process about the misadventure of an ageing, plump housewife before being inspired to gouging out eyes with forks).
The trial seemed to be over before it had begun, until two words were uttered under Veritaserum. Lucius Malfoy.
All hell broke loose, in the form of descending vultures from the media. There was, for quite a while a serious risk of having an eye taken out by a flying dictaquill. And in all the melee a highly pertinent fact was uncovered. Scandal once more rocked the wizarding world.
Percy, the staid, boring, honest and upstanding Percy, was not a Weasley, but rather a Malfoy. Well, technically a FitzMalfoy, the product of a wild night of abandonment at which Molly had received her Dark Mark. This explained quite a lot. His studious nature, it was revealed, was actually a way of repressing his innate desire to camp it up with a big stick. Thus far, he had been successful.
Everyone was utterly amazed that Percy would have been heir apparent to the Malfoy fortune and dynasty of style but for the small factor of his parents being unmarried. Or even liking each other very much. That had been made abundantly clear; Molly in a vitriolic tirade which had taken up the majority of her testimony, and Lucius in an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet from his prison cell. If there had to be a scandal, Lucius was determined that money would be made. He claimed that the fact he could remember the story in the presence of Dementors meant that it couldn't possibly be a happy memory.
Which was why it was such a delicious irony that they were put into adjacent cells, with a small grate to allow polite, convivial conversation to keep their morale up and the Dementors well fed. You can imagine the content.
Just think…
Badgers
Pomegranates
Mushrooms
Embryology recapitulating Phylogeny turned into a particularly vicious debate as to the credibility of a certain Mr Steven Jay Gould. With or without the apostrophe.
The one upshot of all their futile bickering over who killed who, sorry, whose fault it was, and who had the better genes, was that Lucius Malfoy had a chance to get out of there. He was too much of a sissy to actually do anything illegal. The Dark Mark, whilst ill-advised, was not and could not become illegal, since freedom of expression was widely acknowledged as the cornerstone of all magical societies, and it could be argued, was just a cultural construction to divide the continuous anyway. Not convincingly, we admit, but argued it could be. There was no case against him, except for possibly excessive use of peroxide. And the overuse of aforesaid big stick. But never to poke badgers. For that, he used spoons.
REFERENCES:
The Event occurred in Sirius Trouble. The one we wrote. It might help if you have read it, although, to be fair, it's not all that likely. Ask yourself just how much time you have to waste today.
LOTR FOTR or TTT extras
SG-1
Batman
Terry Pratchett
Monty Python
Steven Jay Gould (1977) Ontogeny and Phylogeny: Belknap Press of University of Harvard ISBN: 0674639405 (hardback)
Robert Rankin
A/N: if you can figure out why we've referenced Batman, you're a better person than we are. No, seriously, tell us and we'll give you a "reward" – Snape as nature intended him!