Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of JK Rowling's creations.
A/N: Somehow this chapter got left out. I have no idea how. But here it is, in its rightful place. Sorry for that! --Miss Laine
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Title: Family First
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I know the instant I see him that it is bad news.
He is walking up the drive. If it were good news, he would have flooed over.
When it is bad news, he prefers to apparate to the end of the drive and then slowly walk up to the door. It gives him time to think. To collect his thoughts so he can say what he has to say.
He is walking very slowly…
It must be terrible news…
It must be about Harry…
We have not heard from Harry since his return to his relatives. According to Albus, it is too dangerous for him to write anymore, especially after Hedwig was killed en route between here and Harry's relative's home.
He took that very hard, as I remember. I honestly couldn't understand how Harry was so upset about it, but then Ronald told me a story.
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
"Harry grew up in a cupboard, mum. He didn't have any friends until he met me because his cousin was a bully. He wouldn't let anyone be friends with Harry, and he used Harry as his punching bag. Harry spent most of his time doing chores, trying not to upset his relatives, and hiding in his cupboard. He told me he named a few of the spiders that lived in the cupboard," Ronald told me very seriously.
Despite the fact that I was listening to him very closely, it suddenly struck me that Ronald had grown up. And he was just fifteen, going on sixteen…
It seemed so odd just for that moment. He looked older than his father…
"Harry's first friend was Hagrid. But Hagrid's much older. And then Hagrid bought him Hedwig. His first and only pet. And unlike Hermione or I, Hedwig has never gotten upset at Harry or questioned him or anything. Hedwig never got on Harry's nerves or bothered him in any way. Hedwig was there for him every summer. And now he thinks he let her down. He thinks he killed her," he explained. "Hedwig has been Harry's only pet and one of his closest friends for five years, mum."
I didn't know what to say to that. I understood very clearly all of a sudden how Harry could miss his owl so much…
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
It must be the worst news imaginable…he has paused at the gate.
He pretends he can't see me standing in the doorway, looking down at the ground…
"Albus," I call. "Please."
He obliges, coming the last thirty feet up the walk. I step aside to let him in the house.
"I'll make some tea, Albus," I say gently. He will tell me in his own time.
"Thank you, Molly," he says softly. I start.
The news cannot be that. But his voice says that it is…that. I don't know what to do.My hands shake as I make the tea by hand. I don't want to use magic right now. I need my time to think just as much as Albus does.
When I get into the living room, I almost drop the tray with the teakettle and the cups.
Albus is crying.
His shoulders are shaking, his hands covering his face. He makes no sound. But there are tears tracking down his beard…
"Perhaps," I say softly. "Perhaps I should call my family down," I suggest.
He looks up, smiling weakly, and nods. "Yes," he finally says. His voice is shaky. I pour him a cup of tea as quickly as I can.
"Drink this," I tell him. "It will take a few minutes to find all of my children."
Though I say it will take minutes, it normally wouldn't. I could have them all assembled in less than thirty seconds.
But Albus needs time to compose himself. It would only frighten my children to see their Headmaster in such a state… I have never seen Albus cry before. Not even when Lily and James died, nor when any of his other friends died. He has never cried in front of anyone, as far as I know.
I'm sure his mother saw him cry, perhaps his brother…but he has never cried to us. Not like he is now…
I start up the stairs slowly. This is not the time to shout or call aloud. It is a time for silence.
Ronald is in his room. He is doing homework, actually.
It is odd to think that he is married. It never crossed my mind that he would be the second of my children to marry, when there are four sons older than him that are nowhere close to getting married. Bill is in his late twenties. Ronald is just sixteen.
He does his homework now. He didn't used to. Instead, he left it until the last minute and did it in the two days before school restarted. But Hermione has been an incredible influence on him… Harry as well…
I think Ronald has learned the value of doing things when you can…because Harry…
I knock softly on the wood to get his attention.
He looks up sharply. Somehow, he already knows that there is trouble. His face is pale and drawn.
He looks better than he did at the end of the school year, though. Harry would hate to know how long Ronald took to recover from the school year…he spent three days in bed, sleeping and eating off and on. He needed the break so badly…but I know he would have forgone it if Harry had needed him in any way. "Mother?" he asks.
He pushes his homework aside and stands up, alarmed. I smile softly. "Ronald, Albus is downstairs," I tell him. Ronald might have run down the stairs energetically before…before last year…but now he just nods. It breaks my heart to see him so…aged…
"I will floo Hermione," he says softly. I nod.
"Thank you," I say. "I'll be down as soon as I've rounded up the others."
He leaves, heading down the stairs softly, wearily.
My next stop is the twin's room. They have been staying at the Burrow because of the danger of Voldemort. It is much safer for them here, especially since they started helping the Order develop weapons for the war.
There is a small explosion from behind their closed door. I have to knock a little louder to get their attention, and the door opens after a few moments. "Yes, mum?" George asks. He looks tired as well, but not like Ronald.
A cloud of smoke curls out of the room. George turns for a moment. "Fred!" he says sharply.
The door opens further. "Albus is downstairs," I say. "Please wait down there while I get everyone else," I ask.
George does not question me. Even at eighteen, almost nineteen, he listens to me very seriously. "All right," Fred says softly.
They start down the stairs.
Percy is at his desk. Percy.
He came home because of Harry, though Harry and Percy will not admit it. As I have heard from several sources, Harry showed up at the Ministry sometime over the past year and spoke with him.
Percy sent us an apologetic letter that evening, and then he quit at the ministry and was home. "Percy, Albus is waiting downstairs to speak with us," I tell him. He looks up and sets his quill down.
"I'll be down in a moment," he promises.
Something is very different about Percy. He is no longer pompous, no longer at all arrogant or surly. He seems to have found humility…or perhaps Harry has shown it to him. I wonder what they talked about that day…
"Bill, Charlie," I say softly. They are sharing a room right now, since they are not here often. I suddenly realize how odd it is that they have not been on guard duty for three days…and I know without a doubt now what Albus is going to say…
"Coming, mother," Bill says. He shares a short look with his brother, and they get up quickly.
"I'll be down after I speak with Virginia," I tell them. "Please get a message to your father," I add.
Charlie nods that he has heard.
And now I must stop at the room that will be the hardest…
Because as much as Ginny says she understands, she does not…she refuses to accept, as Ronald has…
She has fought it the entire way. It.Harry's position. His inevitable conclusion, as everyone seems to see it…
"Ginny," I say, pushing the door open gently. She is on the window seat. Looking out at the sun…it is filtering through the trees and shining on her hair, lighting it up like a wildfire…
She turns at my voice, and I see that her face is wet with tears… "I had a dream," she tells me. "There was a clearing… It was so real…"
I will speak alone with her later…but now… "Albus is downstairs," I say. She doesn't need to hear more. She stands, straightens her clothes, and nods.
"All right," she says. "All right."
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
Virginia leans against my chest as she tries to steady her breath. "I had a dream," she says softly.
"Hmm," I say softly. She needs to talk. She cannot keep it so tightly bottled…
"There was a clearing in the woods," she says, her words empty and distant. There is a child's wonder in her words. She is not here, in the Burrow, clinging to me tightly. She is somewhere else, with someone else… "Time stood still…" she whispers. I stroke her hair gently. My little girl has grown up so much…but it is good to know that she still needs me. Now that she has no one else…
"Ginny," I say softly. I need her to know that I will never abandon her. Old age may someday claim me, but if she needs me even then, I will not leave her…
"Did you know that he took me to see the unicorns?" she cuts in suddenly. I nod, though she cannot see it. She mentioned something about it in a letter home last year… "They were like liquid, flowing over the field…but when they startled, they turned to a roaring river…they were like crashing waves, wearing him down…"
Her voice trails off… I want to hold her so tightly, and my heart tightens as her fingers clutch at my arms. She is so alone now…
"He showed me that," she says softly… "He showed me hope…"
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I only watch Ronald. He is grieving with his wife. He does not need me so much anymore…because he has someone to share his life with, someone that he understands deeply and who understands and loves him in return…
I wonder if Harry planned it to be like this…for Ron and Hermione to have each other to turn to…
But he holds her tightly, as she weeps hard into his shoulder. It comforts him more to hold onto her than to be held. Because it shows him that he still has someone that needs him so desperately…
I hold no illusions about Harry and Ron's relationship. Everyone tells me how much Harry needed Ron, how much he needed someone to take care of him all though his sixth year at Hogwarts…
But Harry did not need Ron. Not like that.
Ron needed Harry. Ron needed to have someone to take care of. He needed to know that he made a difference…
And now he will make that difference to Hermione…to his wife…to the woman that he will spend the rest of his life with…
Though I will never admit it to anyone, Ronald is the one I am the most proud of right now…he has proven himself a man at such a tender age…
He does understand…
I do not say a word. I just watch them for several minutes, making sure that I am not needed. I know I won't be…but I cannot help it…he is my son still…my little boy…my sweet little boy…
My other sweet little boy is dead.
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Charlie is my next stop. Bill has already left to go to his wife…she knew Harry, too…
Charlie sits in his room. There is a little model of a Hungarian Horntail stomping around the desk next to him. He is watching it, a little smile on his face…
"Charlie," I say softly, to get his attention. He gives me his grin…
That is what I love most about my second-eldest. Charlie has always had the most incredible smile. It is as if nothing could get him down.
In this war I have seen him bleeding, and as much as it tears my heart up to see my boy hurt, all he ever does is smile. He grins at the others and laughs. Makes comments about how much worse the dragons are…
"Hullo, mum," he says. The grin is not as strong today. And he does not joke. He just shifts, so that he is sitting on one end of the bed.
I sit down next to him. He may be twenty-five now, but he is still my boy. He lets me put my arm around him and pull him against my body. He is the shortest of my sons, just a few inches taller than me, and his head rests on my shoulder just perfectly.
"Are you going to be all right?" I ask him softly. He breathes out softly. I know his eyes are still on the little model dragon.
"You know, I didn't know him that well," he says in a whisper almost. His husky voice is hard to make quiet, but it is now. "He struck me as a good person right off the bat, though. It was like a little brother coming home. He was just so lost that summer when I first met him…"
I remember that. Harry came over just before the Quidditch World Cup. He was so amazed by our family…shocked by how our family interacted… I was dismayed at how shocked he was when I hugged him the first time… "Harry was something special," I say.
"How is Ron?" Charlie asks. I wish I could lie.
"Grieving," I say. "He and Hermione will make it through this together…" I trail off as Arthur sticks his head in a moment. He surveys us a moment, eyes tired and sad, and then gestures. He is going to speak with Ginny, I think. My next stop is Percy.
"Go," Charlie says. He is such an incredible boy, my boy… Nothing warms my heart more than to know how incredible my boys have turned out…all of them…
And Ginny, despite having six older brothers…she is the young woman I always knew she would be…she just needed a few more years…
"I expect to see you at dinner," I say gently. "My children will not starve themselves," I tell him. "Harry wouldn't want to know that he'd caused us so much pain."
"I'll go talk to Ginny with dad," he says. "Everyone needs someone to hang onto."
"Yes," I say softly. "Everyone does."
Except for Harry. Harry…did he really have anyone to hang onto??
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
Percy is back at his desk, working. If I did not know my boy like I do, I would think he was unaffected…
But the tear stains on his work betray him.
He gestures to a chair. Percy has never been big on physical displays of affection. He prefers to talk through things. Even the night he apologized to Arthur and I in person, he did not hug us or cry on our shoulders. He explained his new understanding very calmly and clearly, and then went back to his room. The next morning, breakfast was ready for us all when we got downstairs, and I did not have to do a single chore for the next two weeks.
"I know you know Harry talked to me," he says. He lays down his quill and lays his hands flat on the desk. They are trembling.
"Yes," I admit.
"He got permission from Dumbldore, I guess," he explains. "There was an auror there the entire time, just watching Harry to make sure he wasn't taken. He put up silencing spells when we spoke."
"I had heard that he went to the Ministry last year," I tell him.
"Harry and I talked for five hours almost," he says. "I was too pig-headed to understand him sooner." He clears his throat. He must be incredibly upset if he cannot keep his voice steady for long. "He was trying to tell me something about the nature of power…and I refused to listen. Fudge had me so mixed up about what was important that I refused to understand." He laughs shortly. "And then he told me this story…he just smiled so knowingly and searched me with those eyes…"
He sighs and pulls out a photograph from behind his papers. It is of the family, of all of us… "You know, I didn't understand what I was giving up when I was trying to find power," he tells me. "I thought I would find what I wanted if I worked to gain authority and power. I wanted to be in charge of something. If I could, I wanted to have my own employees to boss around. I thought that would make me happy. And then Harry told me about a boy named Tom Riddle… And what power had done to him… What Tom wanted was driving him insane, Harry told me. And now it has killed him, just as Harry said it would…"
"I'm glad you listened to him," I tell him. He starts laughing again, bitter, sad laughs.
"I listened to him all right. But I didn't understand him," he tells me. "Not then. It took me weeks to understand what he'd said, all the things he told me in those five hours."
"Then—" I start to say, shocked. "Then why did you come home?" I wonder. He came home that night! What could have…
"Harry threatened me," Percy says with a small grin. "Well…not so much threatened as told me something very frightening. I hadn't thought of it before, not really."
"And?" I ask. I am curious as to what could have made such a difference…
"He said, 'Percy, they could die. They could die thinking that you betrayed them. They could die and your last words to them will have been angry and unjust,'" Percy says, quoting. He must have those words memorized. "'I have seen death, Percy, and it is not a beautiful thing. It is a permanent thing. There is no turning back. There are no last words. When they are gone, they will never come back.'"
The words chill me. I can barely imagine Harry saying them. How much could he have been hurting, to say those words? "And you came back," I say.
He nods. "Exactly. He was right…and then those few weeks after I first came back I thought about the rest of what he said. He was right…"
How did Harry know? How did he know what would make Percy come home? I wish I could have talked to my little dark-haired boy one more time…
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
Fred and George are speaking with Albus when I come back down the stairs. It is amazing how this war has matured them. They still laugh and joke, but they no longer act before they think. Everything they do is planned.
They look up at the same time as I come down. "Mum," they say at the exact same time.
"I have asked if they would like to take positions at Hogwarts," Albus says softly. "Severus is in need of assistance."
"What happened to him?" I ask. Albus said nothing about Severus's condition. Just that he was the one…that brought the news back…
"The dark mark was affected by the killing curse," Albus explains. "He was forced to cut his left arm off just past the mark, and it has left him—ah—short-handed."
His joke is morbid. I have never head Albus tell such a morbid joke. "He needs an assistant to help with classes and brewing potions," George says to get past that awkward moment.
"Immediately I thought of these two," Albus explains.
"We've accepted," they say at the same time. I smile.
"And how are you two really?" I ask. They always can make me smile. My boys…
"Well," George beings,
"We've been better," Fred adds,
"But we're more worried about ickle Ronnikens," George ends. The once insulting nickname for Ronald only holds concern and love now. Even Ron laughs when they call him that. It used to make him so angry…
But then when he was here, for Christmas last year, and Harry came as well… He started to get mad about it, and then Harry spoke up quietly.
"You know, I've never had a nickname before. My relatives call me 'boy.'"
Ron smiles now when he hears the nickname. I'm afraid if he hears it again, though, that he will weep.
"I suppose we should get a note out to Lee," George speaks up.
"Actually, hold off on that," Albus says. "I'd rather not spread anything about this until I am sure that Voldemort is gone…it would be too demoralizing if everyone were to know, and then he were to come back…"
"I thought you said that Severus said there was a pile of ash for his body," I say, slightly alarmed. Albus smiles.
"We have been deceived before. I do not want that to be case now."
He stands. He has to leave, I see. "Good day, Albus," I say. He gives me a weak smile. "Thank you for doing this in person."
"I couldn't have let it be done any other way," he tells me.
And then he is gone. He apparates straight out of the Burrow.
The wards should have stopped him.
But somehow I know that Albus has never really followed the rules…I wish Harry could have been the same…
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
There is only one person left to comfort now. One person to whisper assurances to…
Arthur finds me outside on the wooden bench seat. It is my turn to cry.
He holds me tightly, my husband, my love…
And together we cry for the son that we have lost…
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A/N: This chapter is just about family. Pretty much about the Weasley family's reaction to things. From what I figure, Mrs. Weasly is totally devoted to her family. Her children are the most important thing to her, and she puts them above all else. The little bit at the end where she starts her grieving for Harry is intentionally short. Her first priority is for her children. Then, it is for herself. And then she can grieve for the son she has lost.
So somehow I lost this chapter somewhere. I was reorganizing things and when… 'hey wait – what the heck's this doing here and not on ? So then I checked through it and posted it!
This whole story is meant to have a rather melancholy tone to it. It just is that way. But that's because of what it's really about…which I'll really say sometime later. I don't want to give everything away, now do I?