Chapter 25

Molly had not really slept last night. Neither had Arthur. They had not talked, just cuddled in the unbearable darkness. And this morning Arthur had left without saying anything either. Just a kiss on the cheek and an unconvincing squeeze of her hand. Maybe he also feared he might begin screaming or crying if he opened his mouth.

His silent company had been a comfort, though. Staying alone in the empty house after he left was hard. She wished at least Percy was here, but he was at work too. And Charlie had stayed at Hogsmeade, to be close to the dragons.

Dragons.

Harry was going to be locked in a tiny enclosure with a dragon. A fourteen-year-old boy unable to receive help. With a dragon.

And she couldn't even be there to watch. The damned Goblet would not allow it. No family in the first task, apparently. Not that Molly would like to watch, of course, but she should be there anyway.

The Triwizard Tournament had made her nervous from the moment Arthur had come home with the news, since she remembered having studied Tournaments just as bloody as goblins' rebellions in History of Magic. Hearing about the age restriction had reassured her a little, but not completely. She had known the twins would try to cheat, and she had feared they might succeed even though Dumbledore had promised her that they would not. And they hadn't (Poppy had sent her a picture of their beards).

It hadn't occurred to her to be afraid for Harry. He would never volunteer to risk his life without good reason, after all, and certainly not for fame or money. Ron might, and Molly had been half afraid for him (although not so much as for the twins, since he wasn't so creative nor daring). Never Harry. That's why Ginny' letter telling them about the fourth champion had shocked her to such degree.

The worst part had been to discover that she couldn't set off for Hogwarts immediately, as she had intended. She had only been able to send Howlers. Dumbledore had later explained to her and Arthur about Harry's unhelpability, and why they couldn't nor shouldn't try to remove him from the school (aside from the fact that they weren't related in anyway and taking him would be pretty much kidnapping). They couldn't even send him letters with advice. No one could help Harry.

It was simply unbearable.

Ginny reported that Harry was a ball of nerves, and that most people at Hogwarts were bulling him or mocking him for trying to usurp Cedric's glory. No one believed that he didn't really want to be a champion. That someone was trying to kill him. What if he died today having received nothing but rejection until the very last minute?

Molly had wished to write to him, but she had not managed. Half the letters were simply unwritable or unsendable, and the other half were too emotional. She feared it would make Harry uncomfortable, or too sad. Arthur had had similar problems, especially because he was desperate to send advice. And Charlie... It had been especially hard for Charlie not being able to tell Harry about the dragons. And today he would be there, watching, waiting for the moment when the Goblet would allow the handlers to go in and subdue the creatures.

Charlie had not been fully informed about what the task would consist on, but he was confident in that the champions would not have to fight the dragons directly. At least the Romanian Reserve had been promised to receive the dragons back in perfect condition along with all the eggs.

Eggs. As in nesting mothers. Molly could easily imagine how protective those dragons would be. It wasn't much of a comfort that Harry would only have to get past one of them.

Ron and Hermione would be there too, watching their best friend fight for his life. And Ginny. Oh, dear, Ginny... She hoped Fred and George sat close to her, just in case.

Molly broke into tears again. And she couldn't stop crying. Whenever she managed to dry her eyes she kept stupidly glancing at the clock, hoping to see Harry there. The absence of his handle dissolved her into tears once more. They should have added him last summer! How could they have let that opportunity pass? Sure, they had had very little time, with the World Cup and the Dark Mark incident, and Rita Skeeter... Arthur had barely been home after all that. But they should have found the time! It had been the plan. That was half the reason why Charlie and Bill had both come home: so the entire family could be there to welcome Harry (if he agreed, of course, which had never been a certainty).

Now she was thinking that she should have at least stolen a little blood to add him without ceremony whether he wanted or not. If she had done that, she could now be watching his handle, and be witness of the moment it disappeared or prevailed.

Her anxiety was reaching an unprecedented level. Not even during the war she had felt like this. Perhaps because the bad news had always come as a surprize when it was already over. Gideon and Fabian's deaths had been heavy blows, but she hadn't even known they had been in danger so she hadn't had to consciously wait for something terrible to happen.

At five to two, Arthur's handle began to move. Bless him! He didn't finish work until five, but he must have asked Perkins to cover for him so he could be here with her. Sure enough, a moment later the back door opened and he walked in, his face more tired and tormented than ever. None of them talked as he hung his cloak in a peg and she prepared some tea. And then they sat together in silence, holding hands and staring at the clock like morons.

Two o'clock came and went.

She knew that they wouldn't get news immediately. They didn't know if Harry would go first or last, and in any case Charlie would have to make sure the dragons were handled before he could spare a moment to come home, so it might be hours before they knew. She couldn't help to listen closely for the sound of someone Apparating outside, though.

At half past two Arthur summoned a bottle of firewhisky and spiked their tea with a few drops, to calm the nerves.

At half past three they were drinking mainly firewhisky with a few drops of tea.

At four Molly was beginning to seriously freak out.

At half past four Arthur forced her to take a Calming Draught, even though one really shouldn't mix that stuff with firewhisky.

Between the firewhisky, the Calming Draught and her sobs, she completely missed the pop indicating Charlie's Apparition. She only registered his arrival when the back door opened and her second son's distraught face appeared in the kitchen.

It was obvious that Charlie had been crying, and that he was barely holding himself together now.

Arthur's hand almost crushing hers was what completely undid her. She heard Charlie saying something, but she couldn't make out the words over her sobs.

"Molly, dear, calm down..."

"Mum! Harry is fine!"

Charlie's yell finally broke through her anguish. She almost choked on a sob as she abruptly stopped to pay attention to her son.

"What?"

"Harry is fine."

She stared at him in confusion and fear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! It's over, Mum, he's alive and well," assured her Charlie with plain sincerity in his sad eyes.

Molly began crying again, but this time in relief. Arthur took her in his arms, and she cried there for a moment, but she felt the urge to hug her son too, so she finally disentangled herself from her husband and went to Charlie.

"Oh, Mum!" he wailed, wrapping her in a huge hug but somehow making her feel that she was the one wrapping him. She felt her son shake, and realized that he was crying.

"What is it, Charlie? Are you sure...?"

"Yeah, Harry is fine," he repeated, his voice muffled. "But it was horrible!"

Arthur was suddenly there wrapping both of them in a massive hug of his own. Under his protection Molly broke apart again, so she and Charlie cried together for a while. When the three of them separated, there were tears in all their faces, although Arthur was perfectly composed compared to Charlie and her.

Firewhisky was usually a drink reserved for tragic moments. Harry was fine, but the whole thing still felt tragic, and especially Charlie, so Arthur filled their tea cups with the drink and summoned a third cup for their son. They sat together at the table.

"Tell us, Charlie," said Arthur.

"Harry... He killed the dragon, Dad. He killed it!"

Molly's tears dried instantly as she stared in shock. Arthur's eyes were also very wide.

"How...?"

"He killed it with the Killing Curse."

Molly covered her mouth with her hands. This couldn't be real. It must be a nightmare, or a hallucination. She shouldn't have mixed up remedial potions with alcohol.

Arthur was simply speechless.

"He wasn't supposed to kill it," continued Charlie after emptying his cup and pouring himself another shot, "just go around it to get the golden egg. But I guess Harry was desperate... He had already got burnt and hit by the spiked tail several times, and it really didn't look as if he was going to make it, the dragon had melted all the rocks he had to hide behind..." Charlie made a pause to empty two more measures of firewhisky before throwing the tea cup against a wall in fury. "And everyone was just watching! I could only watch! Dumbledore... You could see in his face that he knew Harry was going to die. Ginny was crying, and Hermione..." Charlie suddenly stood up and began making desperate gestures with his arms while the walls trembled around them. "We all just watched! And then... And then Harry suddenly began running towards the dragon. It was suicidal! We all screamed... He ran straight to the dragon, clearly not intending to dodge the next fire ball, and just a split second before he was roasted he raised his wand and yelled the incantation. And the dragon was dead."

Charlie slumped down again in his chair. After a brief hesitation, Molly reached out and took his hand. Despite Charlie's very graphic narration, she had trouble imagining Harry in such a situation. But she could easily imagine how terrible it must have been for everyone to just helplessly watch. And in Charlie's case it no doubt had been conflicting to see Harry killing one of his dragons. Although maybe he still hadn't processed that part? He didn't seem to have room for more horror than the one caused by watching Harry almost being burned alive.

Molly forced herself to remember that Harry was alive. How he had managed to kill a dragon, she had no idea. It was troubling to think that he was capable of casting the Killing Curse. But none of that mattered. Not even the dead dragon really mattered, although of course it was sad.

Harry was alive.

"Which one was it?" asked Arthur after a few silent moments.

Charlie hesitated.

"The Hungarian Horntail. Her name was Tars."

Arthur nodded and summoned a new cup and another bottle of firewhisky. He filled all their cups.

"For Harry," he said, raising his.

"For Harry," echoed Molly and Charlie.

Arthur filled the cups again.

"For Tars," he said.

A few new tears escaped Charlie's eyes. He couldn't find his voice to echo his father, but Molly spoke for both.

She would really need to take a Hangover Potion after all this. And maybe another Calming Draught, to sleep soundly for three days. Charlie looked as if he could also use a Calming Draught, or maybe even Dreamless Sleep. Yes, Dreamless Sleep.

"I have to go back," said Charlie finally, standing up again. "With only three dragons left there are more than enough handlers to take care of them, but it still has to be decided what will be done with the... with the carcass." The word seemed to make her son sick. "I will come home tonight if I can, or at least tomorrow to say goodbye before going back to Romania."

Arthur nodded and stood up as well.

"Did you see Harry, afterwards?"

"Yeah, but only from a distance. The poor kid was beyond shocked. He wasn't responding much to anything."

Molly thought about six different things to send to Harry through Charlie to help with the shock, but immediately realized that she would not be able. She took a deep breath. They would have to trust that someone would be able to give him Dreamless Sleep. Dumbledore had assured her that the champions were allowed to get medical attention from Poppy, so at least his injuries must have been dealt with, but she wasn't certain if shock management would be allowed too.

"Here," she said, gathering all the vials of Dreamless Sleep she had left. She could always brew more later, if she could scrap enough gold for the ingredients. "For you and Ginny. And for the boys too if they need it. Oh, and Hermione. Only for tonight, mind. Tell them to ask Poppy for Calming Draughts if they need them. Please check on your sister, will you?"

Charlie nodded while he put the vials in a pocket.

"She was pretty shaken," he said sadly. "But the twins were being supportive, so I think she'll be all right. Hermione too. Tough girl, that one. She was taking Harry everywhere by the hand after the task. I don't think he would have moved at all without her."

That was good. Harry needed his friends now more than ever. And his family. Molly sighed. What she would not give for being able to hug him! And Ginny too. All of them.

Charlie was the only one at hand, so she hugged him. Percy would have no choice but to be hugged later too, if Molly wasn't yet sleeping like the dead when he came home.

"It's all right, Molly dear," whispered Arthur when Charlie had Apparated away. "Harry is fine. It's over."

She shook her head.

"It's not over. There are two more tasks!"

"It's over for now, though. He will have a few months to rest and recover. And we need to rest too. And eat."

"I'll prepare something..."

"You just sit there on the coach," her husband said sternly. "I'll make us a bite."

Molly considered to protest, but she really was exhausted, and she felt weak after so much crying. Arthur must be even more tired, having worked most of the day, but he looked more steady than her, so she obeyed his command and went to sit on the coach while he cooked.

"How is it even possible, Arthur?" she whispered a while later when they were already in bed. "How could Harry kill a dragon on his own?"

"I don't know, Molly," he whispered back, sounding grave. "I had never heard of a dragon killed that way. But I guess that if the Killing Curse is powerful enough... And with the right feeling, of course."

They remained in silence for several minutes. Yes, the right feeling. That was what concerned Molly the most. Fabian had told her about the Unforgivables, many years ago, and about what it took to cast them. One had to really mean them. To really want to control, or to cause pain, or to kill. But it wasn't simply rage or even hate that fueled them. It was indifference. Indifference to other person's freedom, health, life. More than really mean them, one had to really don't care.

It made Molly's heart constrain the idea of any of her children feeling that so strongly. Of course she knew that Harry had already killed in the past. Quirinus Quirrell had perished under his hands, and he had also slain a Basilisk with a sword. But those had been self defence actions, fuelled by fear and despair. No doubt he had been afraid and desperate today too, and he had definitely been acting in self defence, but he must have also been feeling something much darker if he had been able to cast the Killing Curse.

"It doesn't say anything about Harry except that he was desperate, Molly," said her husband. He always knew what she was fretting about, it was like a sixth sense he had. "The most unexpected people can cast the Killing Curse in kill or be killed situations."

That was true. Molly knew that. Gideon had killed once under those circumstances. He had never wanted to talk about it, though.

"And it's not the same to kill a dragon than to kill a person," continued Arthur. "Harry killed a basilisk two years ago. I don't think his moral code stops him from killing magical creatures when he has to. I for one am glad of that. And I'm relieved that he knew how to do it."

That was something else to think about. Mad-Eye had showed them the Unforgivables, but Dumbledore had assured them that he would not teach them how to cast them. Knowing the incantation wasn't enough. Just as it required the right feeling and enough power (which Molly couldn't imagine how a fourteen-year-old could have), it also required a specific wand movement. Fabian had taught it to her, just in case. It wasn't a very precise movement, to be sure, but it still had to be learned and practiced. Perhaps Harry was just quick picking up spells by seeing them performed once?

Maybe there was more to Harry than she had thought. He had survived the Killing Curse as a baby, after all. And both Lily and James Potter had been talented, by all accounts.

Maybe he had a chance of surviving this Tournament.