Summary: Christmas is fast approaching, and Molly Weasley has never been busier. Ginny is two, Ron is three, the twins are five, Percy is seven, Charlie just turned eleven and Bill turned thirteen in November, so there is no wonder poor Molly has her hands full.
To top it all off, as Christmas approaches so does the gathering Molly and Arthur are to host on Christmas day: the first ever family reunion since the first war, which ended only a couple of years ago, for either the Prewetts or the Weasleys… This Christmas is going to take a miracle to get through...
AND hearty thanks to HermyRox12 for her QsQ nimination. The twins send a toast-by-owl from the Christmas party.
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 5
Completed: Yes
Word count: 14534
Read: 13219
Published: 01/20/06
Updated: 07/30/06
1. A Gringotts Trip and a Talk in the Dark by Mind_Over_Matter
2. In Which a Lot Happens on Tuesday by Mind_Over_Matter
3. A Suspicious, yet Unimportant Package by Mind_Over_Matter
4. The Dark Dawn of Christmas by Mind_Over_Matter
5. A Climactic Christmas Lunch, Even for the Weasleys by Mind_Over_Matter
A Gringotts Trip and a Talk in the Dark by Mind_Over_Matter
Author Note: This story was originally written for the Winter Snows Holiday Challenge, Challenge 5: Secret Gifts (I think that’s the right number).
The first line of the story, I got from chapter 2 of MoonysMistress’s excellent Tonks/Lupin story, ‘Missing Scenes’, but I swear the remainder of the fics are totally different, but go read her story anyway. It rocks. Well, that’s all from me. Let the tale… begin!
Nothing for Christmas
Chapter One: A Gringotts Trip and a Talk in the Dark
Monday, 19 December, 1983, Gringotts Wizarding Bank
Five-and-a-half days until Christmas
Molly Weasley liked being a mother. Loved it, in fact. Raising her troop of little red-heads was probably the most unusual; most fascinating, most rewarding experience of her life, and it was far from over. With Ginny, her youngest, just two, Bill, her oldest, only just into his teens, not to mention the five others in between, she was going to be a busy, cheerful mother for a long time. Molly reminded herself of this happy thought as she scraped the last of the sickles, and every dusty knut from the bottom of her vault in Gringotts.
It wasn’t as if they didn’t have enough to live off; they were just going through a hard time at the moment. Right now, Molly had little Ginny to look after and Ron not much older (or easier) at three, the twins, although only five, had the ability to create absolute chaos, whatever they did, wherever they were. Even at home with plenty to do; on Platform Nine and Three Quarters; at weddings, at funerals (although everyone had needed to lighten up then), at baby showers for goodness sakes. At their
own baby shower! If you put Fred and George Weasley in the middle of an empty room with no windows and no doors, nothing in their pockets and nothing on them at all except for the clothes on their backs, they could wreak havoc like a fireworks display in the middle of the Great Hall at dinner time.
At seven, Percy demanded attention like nobody’s business and seemed to have some kind of vendetta against the twins, getting in the way (and therefore becoming victim to their destruction of peace) and constantly correcting everything his brothers did wrong. It was absolutely gorgeous, even if grass and porridge were harder to wash out of clothes than they looked. Molly had barely been able to keep a straight face when Percy told a stunned looking Ron off for talking too loudly while Arthur was asleep this morning (and had consequently been the one to wake him up).
Charlie seemed to fall into many of the traps that Percy did, but tended to just quietly do what he thought was right, or what he was supposed to, and quietly think most of his siblings were totally off their rockers. He tended to be a little withdrawn in large crowds, occasionally easily intimidated or emotionally sensitive, but very gentle. If all her children were like Charlie, everything would be so much easier, but she would not get the chance to raise such an array of personalities.
Her eldest son, Bill, seemed to be a little of both worlds, as well as having something about him completely unique. As the eldest of so many, at thirteen, he seemed to feel a great amount of responsibility for every one of his siblings, but still managed to find small ways to rebel against this role, usually at Hogwarts. He seemed to have no problem taking care of babies, setting the table, answering the door, or, on a bad day, hunting the twins. As if to remind her that Bill was not just an oldest brother, Molly and Arthur received interesting little messages from him, letting them know that yesterday he was out after hours (but was back in the dorm be eleven, he promised); he had drawn all over his tie (but only with materials that could be washed out, of course); he’d cut the sleeves off his jumper so that it was like a singlet (but he swore he knew the spell to reattach them); he had ignored his Charms homework (although had done the reading and would not have that sort of thing affect his grades on the end-of-year-exams).
Yes, she loved her children, loved her family in general, and a bit of financial trouble would not change any of that, even if they had just had both Bill’s thirteenth and Charlie’s eleventh birthdays and Christmas was just around the corner, bringing with it not only the usual task of present-buying, decorating and sending out cards. This year, it was big. Since the war, neither Molly nor Arthur’s families had been communicating much, everyone remaining separated, each little faction healing within itself, adjusting to new circumstances. This year, Molly and Arthur were planning a sort of reunion, for both families, at the Burrow, and expected twenty to thirty guests, depending on who could come and whether they brought all their children.
“Mu-um, are we done yet?” whined Percy from behind her.
“Yes, I think so. Back in the cart, Percy. We’ll get back home soon…”
“PEEERCYYYYY!” Molly jumped and turned quickly, several knuts getting scattered all over the floor. It was a moment before she realised it was just Ron screaming. He tended to copy her, Arthur, any of his brothers and even Ginny sometimes, and had gotten into the habit of yelling out random names (she had not quite deciphered whether or not he chose any name in particular because of something related to that person). In his mind, she did this all the time.
“What, Ron?!” Percy exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly, for Ron, who was currently sitting with Charlie in the cart, sniffled for a moment and burst into tears. Percy scowled.
“Shoosh,” said Charlie gently, putting little Ronald on his knee. “Shoosh. Even Ginny shuts up more than you…”
When Molly had climbed into the cart and calmed Ron down, Percy and Charlie had snuck around, collecting up all the coins from the floor, and the goblin who had brought them here had given the four redheads several annoyed looks, they were finally able to get back into the cart again. How glad Molly was that Arthur had taken Fred, George and Ginny to pick up Bill from Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
When riding in a Gringotts cart, it was, and always had been, impossible to talk to anyone without shouting, so no one said anything, except for Ron who gabbled the whole way with no one quite sure what he was talking about as the sound was left one hundred feet behind them somewhere. Like every one of her children, (except for Charlie, who had been positively petrified of the place, the cart rides and the goblins when he was younger) Ron was very fond of riding the Gringotts carts.
“Ron, look!” said Molly loudly, pointing at a large, sparkling marble pillar that had a stream of tinsel tidily wrapped around it in a spiral. It was usually necessary to distract him when they got off the cart, because he, like most of her other children, got incredibly upset when the ride ended.
“Green!” yelled Ron, not much in a talking mood, it seemed, and far too excited to say more than single words.
“Yes,” said Molly. “It’s green tinsel around a marble pillar!” Ron seemed to find this absolutely fascinating.
“Green, Mummy!” he yelled again, pointing.
“That’s right, Ron,” said Molly, and put him down.
“Can we go home now?” asked Percy.
“Green, green, GREEN!” yelled Ronald, and Charlie had to prevent him from ripping down the tinsel.
“Soon, darling. We need to get Bill a new quill…” Charlie rolled his eyes, just catching up, Ron’s wrist firmly in his hand.
“A new quill.” He was clearly unimpressed by the fact that they still had to walk around Diagon Alley with Ron just to get a quill.
“Yes,” said Molly pointedly. They continued (much to Ron’s dismay) through the huge doors of Gringotts.
None of them said anything for a while as they made their way down Diagon Alley slowly.
“Home bang bus?” asked Ronald.
If it weren’t for you, probably not,” said Percy, who was between Molly and his youngest brother.
“Why?”
“Because you refuse to go by floo powder.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know, do I?”
“Ron not power,” proclaimed Ronald wisely.
“What?”
“What?” And thus the discussion went on. Molly didn’t interrupt when everyone was content, something she had found to be a very useful tactic.
“Mum?” Charlie said thoughtfully, after a while.
“Hmm?”
“Why do we need to get a new quill?”
“Because at school, you need to use quills, just like we do at home.”
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“But why do we need a
new quill?”
“Because his old one’s worn out or broken. You can’t keep using the same old quill forever. He’s had the same one for a long time.”
“But Mum?”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“Why do we need to buy a
new one?”
"Because Bill needs a new one.” Percy snorted.
“You know Ron, Charlie’s just jealous because Bill can to magic at Hogwarts,” he said conspiringly to Ronald, who clearly didn’t quite grasp what everyone was talking about but smirked all the same. “It’s a bit stupid though. He’s going next year.” Oh, yes. Charlie and Bill had just had their birthdays, Christmas was just around the corner
and Charlie was starting at Hogwarts next year.
“Will I need a new quill, Mum?” asked Charlie, ignoring his younger brother’s cocky manner.
“Probably. The one at home that you’ve been using to write probably won’t last too long.”
“How much does that cost?”
“A few sickles.”
“Will I need a robe?”
“Yes. I think Bill will still be in his old one, so I think you’ll have a new robe.”
“How much does that cost?”
“Not much if we get a good price on it.”
“Will I need a new cauldron?”
“Yes. I’m sure we can find something second hand though…”
“How much does that cost?”
This went on for a while, until they got to the quill shop, found the cheapest, decent quality quill there, left the quill shop and were almost at the Leaky Cauldron. Along the way, Ron had grown very tired and grumpy, so Molly was now carrying him, pleased to see his eyelids were drooping.
“What about parchment?”
“Yes. You will need parchment.”
“How much“”
“A few knuts, it depends on how much you want.”
“Will I need new socks?”
“Probably. Your socks are the wrong… Charlie, why do you want to know if you’ll need new socks?” Charlie shrugged.
They stepped through the archway into the back room of the Leaky Cauldron, and walked into the bar. It was getting late; out the windows was darkness.
“Mum, can we just use the floo just this once?” whined Percy. Molly sighed.
“All right,” she told the enthusiastic seven-year-old, taking a small drawstring bag from her cloak, “but just because Ron’s tired and just because it’s Christmas.”
Percy marched cheerfully to the roaring fireplace.
II’ll go first,” he said, as if this was a very brave, responsible thing to do. Molly smiled, amused, and threw some of the powder into the fire.
“Off you go.” Percy stepped into the flames, the beaming.
“The Burrow!” and he was gone.
“Charlie,” she said, offering him the bag and making sure Ronald was still sleepy and oblivious.
“Where do you get floo powder from?”
“A shop in Diagon Alley. Quickly, I don’t want Ron to wake up.” Charlie solemnly took a handful of floo powder, threw it in the fire and said,
“The Burrow.” He spun off. Molly followed soon after, delicately protecting Ron’s face from the ash as they travelled together.
Predictably, as soon as Ronald realized what was going on, he began screaming at the top of his lungs, and the first thing Molly had to do when she saw Bill after a term at school was calm his baby brother down.
Neither Ron nor Ginny lasted long before they were too tired to stay awake, and the rest of the evening was relatively peaceful. Well, except for Fred and George, but they were too tired and slightly more subdued than usual, so it was a peaceful evening on Molly’s standards anyway. Charlie acted strangely though, quieter and more thoughtful than usual.
After coaxing the twins into bed, bribing Percy to do the same and leaving Bill downstairs to chatter with Arthur, Molly headed up to Bill and Charlie’s room to put her second oldest son to bed. She bustled up the stairs as quietly as possible, as to not wake her youngest children and knocked quietly on the door. Charlie opened it after a few moments, his face very pale against the relative darkness, blue eyes almost glowing.
“Are you ready for bed?”
“Yeah,” he said distractedly, and pulled at his red pyjama top on the way as he turned and scrambled under the covers. Molly sat down on the bed beside him and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
“Are you alright, darling? You’ve seem a bit… distracted.”
“Yeah,” said Charlie, looking at the ceiling, and then at her.
“Do you need an extra blanket?”
“No…” They sat for a moment, before he went on. “Christmas is coming soon, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Five days. Percy and the twins have been counting down.”
“Yeah… I’m looking forward to Christmas.”
“Me too.” There was silence again, as Charlie reflected on this thought, and then gave a humungous yawn.
She kissed him on the forehead.
"Goodnight, Charlie. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mum… night.” Molly flicked her wand to turn off the light, so all she could see of her eleven-year-old son’s bedroom was a jumble of faint outlines in the darkness. He was no more than a mass of shadow with little blue pinpricks for eyes.
“See you in the morning.” She stood up, and walked quietly to the door.
“Wait!” hissed Charlie, and Molly turned.
“What is it?”
“Mum, I… I don’t want anything for Christmas.”
“What do you“?”
“I just don’t need anything this year, and I don’t want anything for Christmas, ok?”
“Charlie…”
“Just… don’t worry about it. You don’t need to get me something.” Molly was very confused… maybe he was just tired. He’d change his mind on Christmas day when everyone was opening Christmas presents from each other and distant family members from far and wide.
“We’ll see what happens,” she said quietly, standing in the doorway.
“G’night,” he said again, and turned on his side, not facing her anymore, and Molly closed the door softly.
Thanks to everyone who has given me positive feedback (heck, even the positive VIBES were good). Without you, I really would have just given up on this story. Hearing feedback is very encouraging. Especially when it happens to be even in the form of a review… Not dropping any hints, of course… ;)
In Which a Lot Happens on Tuesday by Mind_Over_Matter
Author's Notes:
I apologise proficiently, for how horribly long this chapter took, and I promise the next will come faster. I’ve had huge and bountiful problems getting this update accepted, but, if you’re reading this, they must be over now (and if not, I think I’m going to cry xS). Thank you so much to my fabulous, fabulous beta, HermyRox12.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed “ you’re wonderful “ especially those who reviewed with update requests. I just can’t get over how grateful I am to HermyRox12! Yet again, thanks a million!
Nothing for Christmas
Chapter Two: In Which a Lot Happens on Tuesday
Tuesday, 20 December, 1983, The Burrow kitchen
Five days until Christmas
“Wake up, Charlie!” Percy yelled. His voice rung throughout the house. Not an unusual occurrence, but not particularly welcome, considering that it was first thing in the morning. Molly groaned.
“Wake up, Charlie!” Ron’s voice rung throughout the house too, copying Percy. She waited in silence, and felt that Arthur was too… any moment now…
“Wahhh!” Ginny was unimpressed. With a tired sigh, Molly got up and reached for her dressing gown.
“Stay in bed, Arthur, you worked late, I’ll sort it out…”
“Come on, Charlie, hurry up!”
She considered yelling right back at Percy, but didn’t. He would find the need to loudly answer her from across the house.
“No, I don’t think I could back to sleep now,” said Arthur, his voice slightly cracked, having just woken up. He coughed.
“Wake up, Charlie!”
Ron screamed the same thing again, and Arthur jerked up.
“Right. Here we go,” he yawned, and Molly grinned.
“Indee“”
“WAAAHH!”
Ginny was still awake and still upset, it seemed.
“I’m up, alright!? Just wait a bloody moment!”
“Percy! Charlie! Will-You-Please-Be-Quiet?” bellowed Molly. There was a short, stunned silence, before Ginny started screaming in anguish again.
With the mounting chaos and noise, a scream omitted from Ron’s room, too. Excellent. Molly and Arthur both exited the bedroom, Arthur heading up to Ron (which was a necessity as he tended to stumble out of his room and vaguely toward his parents when he was upset and had, more than once, fallen down the stairs in doing so) and Molly heading toward her daughter’s bedroom.
Ginny screamed out her misery. With the speed of a needed mother, Molly hurried in and picked her up. Her face was pink and wet from exertion and tears.
“Charlie, We’re“” There was a bang from downstairs like the front door opening.
“Shut it, Percy!” scolded Bill’s voice. Even though he didn’t shout at all and Percy stopped doing so, their loud conversation was audible all over the house.
“But I want to go now!”
“Yeah, me too. But be just a little bit patient, will you?”
Ginny’s crying finally stopped, and Molly stormed out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen cradling her. Percy glared daggers at Bill, who returned them, looking very irritated.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Bill opened his mouth to speak, but wasn’t given a chance.
“Charlie wouldn’t wake up, Mum! We want to go to play Quidditch, and we can’t do it without him.”
“What about the twins? Where are they?” she snapped, rocking Ginny slightly.
“I don’t know. They’re not coming.”
“Percy, you did not need to yell up the stairs! How long would it have taken to just walk to your brother’s bedroom?” Percy grumbled something under his breath, and there was a sound from behind Molly. Charlie was loping down the stairs, yawning, his hair everywhere, and still wearing his red pajamas.
“I just…”
“And why aren’t the twins coming? Did you ask them?”
“Yes, we did!” said Percy.
“And they didn’t want to come?
“Nope. They wanted to stay here.” Molly looked at him suspiciously.
“Is that what they’ll say if I ask them?”
“N “ I don’t know. You can’t really take everything Fred and George say seriously.”
“Percy!”
“What? You can’t!” Molly sighed, and frowned at Percy.
“Well, you ask them now, and see if they’ve changed their minds.” Percy frowned right back.
“But, Mum!” Molly raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, fine… Fre-ed! Geo-orge! Do you“”
“Percy!” snapped Bill and Molly at the same time. Ginny buried her little head in Molly’s dressing gown.
“Fre-ed! Geor-eorge!” copied Ron, sounding much better. Cheerful even. But very loud, nonetheless. Poor, dear, Arthur. Thankfully, without the usual twinnish ruckus, Fred and George both thundered down the stairs.
“Wha-at?!” shouted Fred, right in Percy’s face.
“Fred! Please!” scolded Molly, rubbing Ginny’s little back and preying her agitation was not rekindled. Amazingly, Fred didn’t answer back, and just looked expectantly at Percy.
“Percival, Did you have something to say?” asked George, and Percy scowled at the two of them.
“Yes… Georgina.” He sighed, and gave his message very quickly and reluctantly, “do-you-want-to-come-with-us-to-play-Quidditch?” They didn’t really play Quidditch. Molly wouldn’t let the younger ones play real Quidditch. But they all called it that. The twins looked at each other for a moment.
“No thanks, Pertunia,” said Fred.
“We have other plans,” added George. Oh dear. When the twins had plans, it was rarely a good sign.
“Plans?” asked Molly. The twins nodded earnestly.
“Yeah,” said George.
“Plans,” said Fred. And they both promptly turned and walked up the stairs. Molly, Percy, Bill, Charlie, and even, she fancied, Ginny, froze for a moment, stunned.
“You know, they’re really weird,” said Percy.
“Right then,” said Bill. “Gentlemen, shall we away?” Charlie yawned.
“Charlie needs to change out of his pajamas,” Molly reminded them. “And none of you have had breakfast yet.”
“But Mum“”
“Charlie, you are not riding a broom in your pajamas.” Her second-eldest opened his mouth to object, but closed it when she headed him off. “You’ll have had a shower and put on appropriate clothes before you leave this house. Understood?” With a grumble and another wide yawn, Charlie stumped back upstairs. Percy grumbled.
“Now, what would you like for breakfast?” Bill huffed.
“Mum, come on. We don’t care, it doesn’t stay early for long.”
“It stays early long enough for you to have breakfast.” At the look on Bill and Percy’s faces, she smiled slightly. “How about this, we make something quick up now while Charlie’s getting changed, and you can take it down and have a bit of a picnic.”
“Really?!” exclaimed Percy. Molly nodded, and he beamed cheerfully.
“Softy,” said Bill, smirking.
“Watch it,” she warned him. “I might just change my mind.” She went and put Ginny in the little play-pen at the other side of the kitchen- entrance room area.
Thanks to her wand and many years’ practice cooking, Molly (with minimal help from the boys) had almost finished tossing together some bacon sandwiches for Bill, Charlie and Percy’s Quidditch-pitch picnic when Charlie bounded down the stairs, now fully awake, showered, and wearing the mock-Quidditch uniform (Molly couldn’t remember the name of the team it belonged to) they had bought him for his birthday last year. Remarkably, it still fit. She wrapped the last of the sandwiches and packed it into the picnic basket, along with a large flask of pumpkin juice.
Arthur came down the stairs slowly, holding Ron’s hand so he didn’t trip on the stairs and looking faintly amused and sleepy.
“Going out are we, boys?”
“We are,” said Percy. “Me and Charlie and Percy and the twins don’t want to come “ I really did asked them and they said so.” Arthur chuckled.
“Right, I think this is done with,” said Molly, and handed the picnic basket carefully to Bill. “Now be careful, we don’t want any Quidditch-related injuries just before Christmas, do we Charlie?” The only time when Charlie left his common sense at home was generally on a broomstick, which he seemed to deem a decent place to try ridiculous stunts.
“Ok, Mum,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed.
She herded the three of them out the door (although none seemed to need herding), and waved them away.
“Breakfast?” asked Molly after a moment. She still had five mouths to feed, not including herself.
“Eggs, Molly-Mum,” said Ron, who liked eggs, and occasionally called her Molly-Mum after having copied his father in calling her ‘Molly’, and then being corrected with ‘Mum’.
“Please,” said Arthur. Molly summoned eggs from the chickens outside, and they cracked themselves over an already hot pan, sizzling over the stove. “The twins are acting funny this morning,” he said. Ron, tired of waiting, wandered away to the play-pen and little Ginny.
“The twins? Acting funny? What is the world coming to?” Molly replied wryly. “How so?”
“I was kicked out of Ron’s bedroom because they said they had ‘business to discuss’.”
“With Ron?” asked Molly, surprised.
“I would assume so, yes. I thought it may be dangerous “ well, not dangerous, but the ‘Fred and George’ kind of business, but Ron won’t tell me what it was, and swears it’s not anything bad.”
“That is funny,” said Molly. “And we didn’t hear a peep until very late this morning. And they didn’t want to go and play Quidditch.”
The cooked eggs were now distributed with sausages and toast onto plates, ranging from her and Arthur’s normal plates to Ron’s little tray and Ginny’s bowl. “Arthur, could you get Ginny?” asked Molly, setting the table. “FRED! GEORGE! RONALD! BREAKFAST!” After a moment, the thundering of the stairs returned again, and the twins appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“Isn’t it nice when Percy’s not here?” asked Fred, taking a seat to the head of the table.
“Lovely,” said George, taking the seat on the opposite end. “We should kick him out more often.”
“Fred! George!” snapped Molly. “Attitude… Besides, we didn’t kick him out; he went of entirely his own accord.”
“Well then we should make him leave of his entirely own accord more often,” said George, and took a huge bite of sausage.
“Percy later?” asked Ron, who sat beside Molly on one side of the table; Arthur was on the other side with Ginny.
“Yes,” said Molly.
“Sad, isn’t it, Ron?” asked Fred. They weren’t really serious when it came down to it “ she knew that. Siblings were warrant to pick on each other a bit.
“Ron’s sausages. You’re Fred and George.”
“Absolutely. I like your attitude, Ron,” said George. “Now, say ‘Percy is a git’“”
“George, really!”
“Git,” said Ronny smugly. Fred smirked.
“He called you a git, George,” he said. George glared.
“Did not. He probably meant you.”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Not at the breakfast table, please!” scolded Molly. “We’re eating. Not to mention, your eggs are getting cold.”
With renewed vigor, Fred and George dived back into their breakfast, and did not talk again until they were done, when they started throwing significant looks over the table, apparently not thinking anyone noticed, despite the fact that they were at opposite sides.
“One more spoon, Ginny. Come on, and then you can have some more sausage,” coaxed Arthur.
Ginny shook her head.
“Just one, you’re almost done!”
Ginny shook her head, all the more haughtily.
“One more spoonful and I will give you this whole sausage. Come-on.” He held out a sausage, which Ginny grabbed. Molly could have sworn she saw a flicker of a smirk. Arthur sighed, and put down the spoon of egg. Ron giggled.
“You had better not act like that at Christmas,” said Molly. “We have people coming, you know.” That was quite an understatement, of course. Family members were coming from far and wide, from Molly’s Aunt Laura to Arthur’s cousin, Albert, and nothing would be more embarrassing than a sausage-stealing baby. Well, technically the twins, but she gave everyone advanced warning about them.
“We’re having eggs for Christmas dinner?” asked George.
“Don’t be silly,” said Molly, realizing how redundant it was to tell one of the twins to not be silly. However, he didn’t say anything ridiculous.
“Why?”
“Because we don’t eat eggs for any dinner, let alone Christmas dinner, and I’m sure your Aunty“”
“No, why do we have people coming?”
“That’s what Christmas is all about, George. You know that,” said Arthur, having given up. Ginny continued to ravage her sausage… well, sausage pieces.
“Mum,” said Fred.
“Dad,” added George.
“We have something we want to…” began Fred.
“We have something to tell you,” said George. There was a pause while they both looked nervously at each other, as if internally debating who would speak.
“We don’t want anything for Christmas,” said Fred, looking from his empty plate to George, to his parents, Ginny and Ron, and apparently meaning to look somewhat dignified at the same time.
“Like presents,” said George. “We don’t need them.” Arthur was totally stunned. Molly hadn’t told him about Charlie’s unusual request, but then, perhaps that would have made him more so anyway.
“What“” she began uncertainly.
“Don’t need them,” said Fred confidently.
“Don’t want them,” said George, looking much the same as his twin brother.
“Neither does Ron,” said Fred.
“But how“”
“He said so, didn’t you Ron?” asked George. “You said that “ you agreed we didn’t want anything this Christmas?”
“We didn’t want anything,” said Ron with his mouth full.
Molly and Arthur looked at each other quizzically.
“Boys, you don’t“”
“Ginny said,” said Ron.
“Won, snossage,” said Ginny (‘Ron’ still came out as ‘Won’ sometimes).
“See? Ginny too,” said Fred. “Right, Ginny?”
“No box,” said Ginny, nodding.
“Yeah, so don’t worry about it,” said George.
“Don’t bother with the presents this year,” added Fred wisely.
“We’ve got everything anyway. We don’t need any,” finished George impressively. He rose. Fred rose also.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” said Fred.
“We have a Quidditch game to crash,” said George.
“Not really,” added Fred hastily, although Molly was really too surprised by what they had said to be worried about them crashing the Quidditch game.
“Boys“” she said, as they reached the door.
"We’ll be careful, Mum!” called one as they ran out.
“Yeah, see you later!” called the other. Everyone sat in silence for a moment, until Ginny casually flicked sausage all over Arthur’s face.
o0oOo0o
Tuesday, 20 December, 1983, The Burrow main bedroom
Four-and-a-half days until Christmas
Ginny waddled out of the room quickly, led by Charlie, and Molly watched after them both, a smile playing on her face. Little Ginny was wearing an amber dress with a pattern of autumn leaves on it that was, as they had discovered, far too long (though was just the right size around the chest). The hand-me-down from Arthur’s widowed sister-in-law hung from her shoulders and dragged on the floor, and yet she had refused to take it off or change into something else; the material was too thin and fine to simply use a shrinking spell “ it would become too delicate and rip within minutes. Not to mention, much tighter around the chest and stomach and it would probably snap.
Giving up on trying to remove the dress, Molly had folded the straps that went over Ginny’s shoulders and stuck them like that magically, and bunched up the long skirt at the back and delicately tucked it into the behind of Ginny’s blue shorts. When she then waddled around with a funny lump in addition to the extra volume that was a nappy, the result was one of the most hilarious things Molly had ever seen, and Ginny had no idea what anyone was laughing at.
Ginny and the sniggering Charlie disappeared out the bedroom door and down the hallway, and Arthur sighed. “I think I may have realized why that dress was never worn very much,” he said.
“You would have to have a very tall baby to have them wear that dress. Or a large sausage.”
“Exactly,” said Arthur, with a small, weary little chuckle, followed by a sigh. “I’m so glad I got the day off work.” Molly nodded, returning to mending another item of clothing they had deemed ‘too delicate for magic’. It was a little black dress robe, which had belonged to her brother, Fabian. There was a matching one that had belonged to Gideon, and another much smaller one that had belonged to their other brother, Solum, who had been seven years younger than Molly, who was three years younger than Fabian, who had been two years younger than Gideon, the oldest. Fabian’s robe would fit Charlie perfectly for Christmas (although he’d been twelve when he wore it), Gideon’s would go to Bill (he’d been fourteen “ both brothers had been very skinny, though Gideon was much taller), and maybe (although she wasn’t sure whether she trusted him with it) Ron would get Solum’s baby-sized robe… robelet.
Molly nodded.
“Why did you get the day off work?” she asked, surprised she hadn’t thought about this earlier.
“Ironically, because they figured I had a big family and would need the time for Christmas shopping,” he said. “What do you suppose all that was about?”
“I don’t know,” said Molly truthfully. “It’s just so unusual for such young children.”
They both paused for a moment.
“How are we going to do Christmas?” asked Arthur. “There just doesn’t seem enough for everything “ with the dinner with everyone coming, presents and Charlie starting school, where’s the money going to come from?”
“I don’t know,” said Molly again. Arthur sighed, frustrated.
“Usually it’s not easy, but we manage in the end. It’s just for so much… and our budget’s practically non-existent.”
“Oh, don’t say that. We’ll manage. I’m sure we can explain to them if the presents are a little“” Footsteps sounded in the hall, prominently, and they stopped talking automatically, listening.
Percy strode confidently and a little pompously into the room, followed by Bill, who was far beyond feeling embarrassed on any of his brothers’ behalf, especially when Molly and Arthur were the only audience. Though, in all honesty, this could easily change when Charlie and, especially, Percy started school.
“Hi,” said Bill.
“Hello,” said Molly.
“Hi,” said Arthur.
“Good day,” said Percy. He faltered slightly at the silence. “Err…”
“What are you doing?” asked Bill, sitting on the corner of the bed.
“Finally getting around to mending these robes,” said Molly. “This is Charlie’s one.”
“Can I have one?” asked Percy.
“Not one like this, but I think I have something for you.” Instead of a dress robe, it was a little tailcoat that had belonged to Solum at six.
“Will it be ready for Christmas?” asked Percy. “Where is it? Should I try it on first?” Arthur grinned.
“Of course. At the moment, it’s put away somewhere in the shed, but it should be ready for Christmas.” Molly finished the last stitch in the collar. The left sleeve still needed to be repaired, but that could wait.
“Bill, can you come and try yours on?” she asked. Hopefully, it would fit and not hang off him too badly. She rummaged around in the small heap beside her bed and withdrew the other black robe, which Bill took carefully. Every one of the children knew how important these clothes were. They had, after all, spent a lot of their early childhood with Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian (Solum, who now lived overseas somewhere, had generally only come for the big events, and was very formal when he had).
Percy watched with jealously as Bill put on the robe. They were all made of a light, silky fabric, so dark the shadows and lowlights seemed not to exist, yet the lights created patterns with the creasing of the slightly reflective fabrics. Percy just sat there, slightly open mouthed, and Molly smiled at the image of Bill in the robe.
“What do you think?” she asked in a hushed voice. He looked lovely, and she could just imagine what Gideon had looked like in that robe; he had had rusty brown hair (but had been known to do all sorts of funny things with it), Fabian's had been red like Molly's and their father's, while Solum’s had been very dark like their mother's.
“It’s really light,” observed Bill, inspecting his black silk clad arms.
“It keeps out the cold though,” said Molly. Bill tugged the dress robe off as if it were made of tissue and laid it carefully on the bed.
“You’re all going to look amazing this Christmas,” said Molly, with a little sniff. She sighed for a moment, and then looked back down to Charlie’s/Fabian’s dress robe.
“It’s going to be big, isn’t it?” asked Bill, sitting back on the corner of the bed. Still looking a little jealous, Percy stood next to him.
“That it will,” said Arthur. “Are you looking forward to it?”
“Yeah!” said Percy, as if this were totally obvious. Which it probably was.
“It’s been so long since we’ve seen some of these people,” said Bill thoughtfully, with a sigh. “I don’t think we’ve seen Uncle Arman since Ron’s baby shower.” Arman was one of Arthur’s brothers. He had been, apparently, disabled in the same Death Eater attack that had killed their other brother, and Arman’s twin, Arnold.
“No, we haven’t, have we?” said Arthur. “I hear he’s been married since then.” They both reflected upon this thought for the moment.
“Anyway,” said Bill, “it’s going to really busy, so we wanted to tell you not to worry about presents for us this year. Right, Percy?”
“Well…”
“Right, Percy?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” muttered Percy.
“Just one less thing to bother with, alright?” said Bill, and stood up.
“Ok, that’s it, what’s going on?” asked Molly. “Why not?”
“What do you mean?” asked Bill.
“Nothing’s going on,” said Percy. “We just thought you already had enough going on.”
“Enough on your plates,” added Bill. “So we could all just not worry about presents this year.” Molly and Arthur exchanged significant looks.
“Are you sure?” asked Arthur. “You know, it’s not your“”
“We’re sure,” said Percy.
“Absolutely,” said Bill.
“So long as you boys don’t go out spending money on us,” warned Molly. Bill and Percy looked at each other.
“Deal,” said Bill, and held out his hand. Molly shook it. He rose from the end of the bed. “Look, we’ll see you later. The twins are being too quiet.” Both he and Percy walked out of the room.
“Bye… boys,” said Arthur, eyes slightly narrowed in confusion.
“Right, what was that about?” asked Molly. Arthur shook his head.
“I have absolutely no idea,” he said. “It’s just so…”
“Unusual for kids their age,” said Molly. “And Percy… that’s really very strange.”
“What?” asked Arthur, looking at her. “Why Percy?”
“Well… it’s nothing really. Just, Ginny and Ron are very young. I suppose they mightn’t really understand it all completely.”
“Yeah…”
“And Bill’s older, so I could understand why it might not be such a big deal for him. He’s a very mature boy.”
“And Charlie’s“”
“Charlie’s just so sensitive, I suppose he would ask to not get a present if he thought it was causing us problems,” said Molly, thinking it through in her head,
“But Fred and George“”
“They’re just…” she interrupted, but trailed off.
“Fred and George?” suggested Arthur. “They’ve been known to be… unusual. They busy themselves with all kinds of funny things. One minute they want everything they see, and the next they don’t second-glance an ice cream. I suppose it makes sense for them to not be too worried about Christmas presents.”
“But Percy,” said Molly. “Percy’s a relatively normal, occasionally responsible, selectively intuitive seven-year-old child. It just seems… strange.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” said Arthur. They sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“So what will we do for Christmas presents?” asked Molly eventually.
“We can’t just not give them,” said Arthur thoughtfully.
“I know. But “ what can we do without much money, which would be useful to them?” Arthur glanced at the dress robes on the floor for a moment, and a funny little smile appeared on his face.
“You know, I think I might just have an idea?”
The End (but only of this chapter...)!
A Suspicious, yet Unimportant Package by Mind_Over_Matter
Author's Notes:
Eek. I estimated two weeks tops, didn't I? I'm really sorry about that. Still, at least this chapter's coming now, right? Just as a note, as it turned out the previous chapter posted here was actually meant to be two separate chapters, the first called 'In Which a Lot Happens on Tuesday' and the second 'The Deal', which, of course, was the deal Bill made with Molly. Therefore, you'll find this chapter much shorter. Short but sweet, I think, as I like it more than the last.
Once again, a million and one thanks to HermyRox12, my wonderfully encouraging beta.
Chapter Four: A Suspicious, yet Unimportant Package
Saturday, 24 December, 1983, The Burrow lounge room
One day until Christmas
Molly replaced a glowing red bauble on the Christmas tree, having moved it from the next little branch across. She wanted it to be perfect “ no, not wanted. It had to be perfect for Christmas lunch tomorrow (and not just because her mother and Aunt Laura were coming). Everything had to be exactly right. She stood back to admire the huge tree, the angel on top almost brushing the ceiling…
No, no that bauble had been better on the other little frond. She carefully took it off and threaded the original frond through the loop of thread coming from the top of the bauble.
Perfect.
Decorating had been surprisingly easy. Fred and George had been scarce whenever they weren’t helping, and when they were, they worked quickly and efficiently before disappearing again. In fact, the same went for all seven of her children. The only time when there was any type of problem was when everyone who could do so was helping and Ron and Ginny were left with nothing to do. And that only happened once “ when they had decorated the Christmas tree, and even then they had managed to keep the two youngest involved most of the time.
She was growing curious. There was some kind of attraction outside “ maybe a new game or something? “ that they were ever so keen to get back to whenever they had a spare moment, yet none seemed to want to tell her what it was. Whatever they were doing, it seemed to involve playing in the mud. Much of the time, they would come back absolutely filthy, though it wasn’t too bothersome “ a spell could quickly clean the floor, which they kept as clean as possible anyway, it didn’t take long to take a shower, and the older children didn’t mind giving Ginny or Ron a bath, for some reason.
Just as she was scanning the tree one last time, Molly heard a tapping at the window, and turned to see a large, vaguely familiar, tawny owl sitting irritably on the windowsill, with a very large package tied to its leg. Before she had taken a single step towards it, she heard thumping feet and voices coming from outside.
“…be sure you saw it, George!” This was, unmistakably Bill’s voice.
“I am! I swear!” The second voice was one of the twins’, presumably George.
“Yeah, it was definitely the package!” This voice was identical to the second.
“Fred!” exclaimed Bill’s voice, getting louder as the three children approached the house. “You didn’t even see it!”
“Yeah, well… well, shut up… Billy!” Molly could imagine Fred challenging Bill just by his tone.
Bill burst in through the front door, the twins at his heels. All three of them were walking at top speed, and looked immediately to the left towards the window and the owl with the package, so they must have totally missed Molly.
“See?! There, I told you,” said George, pointing at the package, which they were fast approaching.
“Well, it’s about bloody time it turned up,” sighed Bill, wrenching open the window. The owl looked supremely unimpressed as Bill lifted it from the sill carefully, cradling the package in one hand, and untied the tough leather string. “I mean, I was beginning to think all their hair“” he cut off, having turned to put the parcel on the table, and spotted Molly in the lounge room.
As Bill froze, the twins turned, and both exclaimed at the same time,
“Mum!” She raised an eyebrow.
“You boys were expecting a parcel?” They all shifted uncomfortably.
“Maybe…” muttered Fred.
“Anything else you’d like to tell me?”
“No…” he muttered, not looking her in the eye.
“Then what’s in the“”
“Nothing!” exclaimed George, finding his voice. Molly said nothing.
“Important,” added Bill, and blinked, “in that it’s not. I mean, not that it’s not nothing, but it’s… Well, it is nothing “ not literally, but it’s nothing… important,” he finished lamely.
“Nothing important,” repeated Molly.
“No,” said Fred, unconvincingly.
“It’s not illegal,” George put in hastily.
“Not at all,” added Fred.
“Is it?” asked George. Bill smiled slightly.
“No, not illegal.” There was a nervous silence.
“But you can’t say what it is?” She flushed slightly in the lack of a reply. “Bill, we made a deal“”
“And I haven’t broken it “ nor any of us,” said Bill honestly. No one said anything for a few moments.
“Well,” said Fred. “We should take our… err…”
“Unimportant parcel,” supplied Bill.
“Yeah, that,” said Fred, still not meeting Molly’s eyes.
“And get outside “ back outside,” said George.
“Yes, alright,” said Molly. “Have you all got your outfits for tomorrow ready?” The twins headed for the door, between them keeping the parcel, although wrapped, out of sight, as if the inability to see it would make Molly forget it was there. Bill watched them exit the door, looking amused.
“Of course, Mum. You’ve been saying that for days,” he said, heading after them.
“Bill“”
“We still have a deal, Mum,” he said, reaching the door. “And it really isn’t anything illegal.” With that, he disappeared. The owl, having relocated to the kitchen bench grumpily, gave an annoyed hoot. Molly stared at the door through which Bill had gone for a moment, then grinned vaguely to herself, and glanced at her watch. There wasn’t much time to go; she should probably get back to work on the only things that were not already totally finished and perfected (save for the food, which she would take care of in the morning): the presents for her seven children, most of which lay, half finished, on her and Arthur’s bedroom floor.
Coming up next, Christmas Day...
The Dark Dawn of Christmas by Mind_Over_Matter
Author's Notes:
Once again, folks, another chapter posted, and another chapter up. This is the second last chapter - Christmas Day, Part One if you will.
Again, I would just like to heartily thank everyone who has reviewed, and, of course, the lovely HermyRox12 for her wonderful beta work on this story. And now...
On with the chapter!
Chapter Five “ The Dark Dawn of Christmas
‘Twas the dark dawn of Christmas,
And, despite that,
The one creature to stir,
Was a teenager’s rat.
It was scurrying ‘round,
A bedroom of two,
And soon came to rest on,
A foot without shoe.
The foot had three brothers,
Exactly the same,
For its host had a twin;
Fred was the host’s name.
With a flick of a toe,
And a rat’s nip in fright,
Young Freddie awoke,
And here ended the night…
Sunday, 25 December, 1983, The Burrow, Main bedroom
Christmas morning
“BILL! What’s your bloody rat doing in me and George’s bedroom?!”
Molly Weasley woke with a fright, and felt Arthur do the same next to her. For a moment, in the simplistic drowsiness of the early morning, she felt sheer irritation flow through her mind, and groaned.
“Bill! Rat! BILL’S BLOODY RAT!” cried Ron.
She groaned again and froze. Any second now…
A shockingly loud, whiney scream filled the house. Ginny was clearly unimpressed at being woken up so early.
Frosty winter air pressed at Molly’s unprotected skin, making the urge to just stay here in her warm bed almost overpowering.
“Molly,” whispered Arthur, “I’ve got it. Go back to sleep “ you were working all day yesterday…”
She felt the extreme difference between the temperature of Arthur’s breath on her face when he pecked her good morning and the temperature of the bedroom. at dawn, in winter. Another thought, however, managed to wriggle its way into her head, and her eyes widened. It wasn’t just any morning… Not just any old Sunday morning. It was as if she could feel the realisation spreading through and waking up the whole house…
“Merry Christmas, Fred!” called the drowsy, but exhilarated voice of Bill. A squeal of happiness, sounding as if it had come from little Ronald, sounded, ringing through the rooms and minds of the Burrow’s inhabitants. Ginny’s crying stopped almost immediately like some other kind child had decided to go in and say good morning. Molly sighed, relaxing slightly and feeling a smile spread across her face. Christmas.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, FRED!” copied Ron. Molly could imagine him screaming from the middle of his bedroom floor, probably with toys surrounding him that had been keeping her youngest son busy since he had first awoken.
There were quiet mutterings around the house. Molly could see Fred and George, fully awake and gleeful, wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and Bill and Charlie doing the same, all in her mind’s eye. Soon, the mutterings became shouts as they called in between bedrooms and up to Arthur and Molly.
The thundering of feet on the stairs could then be heard, most disappearing downstairs, then flying back upstairs with glee at the sight of presents under the Christmas tree. Molly, having had some experience with Christmas mornings, sat up, her husband doing the same only seconds afterwards.
The door flew open dramatically, and Percy bolted into the room and leapt straight onto the bed, in between his parents. Fred and George did the same, George scrambling into Arthur’s lap and Fred coming to rest on Molly’s knees. There was a moment of comfortable silence.
“Mum, Scabbers woke me up!” said Fred enthusiastically. “He bit me!”
“Merry Christmas, Fred,” replied Molly, grinning in amusement.
Another figure appeared in the door. Ron ran almost directly into the doorframe in excitement before tearing into the bedroom and around the side of the bed, where Molly lifted him onto her lap.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, FRED!” he screamed at Fred.
“Merry Christmas, Ron,” laughed Fred, and Ron beamed.
Bill soon wandered into the room, obviously having been left behind by his youngest brother, and slotted in behind Percy, between Molly and Arthur, just as the last of their troop arrived at the door. Charlie entered, guiding Ginny to waddle safely in front of him, holding each of her hands so she wouldn’t fall on the stairs.
“Morning Mum,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, and moving forward to take his place between Molly and Arthur’s knees, Ginny on his lap, “morning, Dad.”
“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” greeted Arthur.
“Merry Charlie!” said Ginny, nodding.
“Yeah, George,” said Fred. “Marry Charlie.”
“No, you marry Charlie!” protested George.
After many more Merry Christmases, a heroic account of how Bill’s rat, Scabbers, had woken Fred up, several accounts of how Fred had woken everyone else up and many epic Ginny-journeys between everyone on the bed, Molly finally suggested breakfast. Needless to say, her idea was taken up with enthusiasm.
As one, the Weasley family trooped downstairs, small babbles of conversation breaking out along the way. As Ron had furiously resisted being put down, Molly approached the kitchen bench with him on her hip. There was a huge, pastry-lined pie tray on the bench that Molly had roughly prepared, along with two other neater ones that would be used for lunch.
Most of the chattering done at the table fell upon deaf ears when it came to the Matriarch of the Weasleys as Molly composed the pie, all the while narrating events to Ron to make sure he did not become bored and irritable… not that this seemed possible with such a happy, carefree atmosphere surrounding them. After adding layers of bacon, sausages, eggs, bread-crumbs, mushrooms, ham, tomato and, at Ron’s ecstatic suggestion, more eggs, she finally topped the creation with a little salt, a little pepper and a sprinkling of cheese, just for good luck, before sliding the lidless pie into the oven.
Molly smirked almost evilly and, with a quick succession of wand prods and flicks, set the table. In front of each family member’s seat (even Ron’s “ Ginny was the only exclusion) was formally placed a plate and placemat, a knife, fork and spoon, and a serviette, nearly fitted in a ring-shaped holder. Conversation shortly gave way to a confused silence. Molly took her seat, and Ron reluctantly consented to part with her (though by only a few feet) and sat in his own, higher one.
“Well, wo’ss all this then?” asked Fred, lifting his serviette with a fork and spoon. Apparently this was his idea of a fancy accent. “I di’nnot know it was the first of April.”
“It’s a napkin, innit?” answered George. “Innit?”
“That it is,” said Arthur, eyebrows raised. Ron, however, crossed his arms, small nose in the air.
“Serviette,” he contradicted proudly, showing that he had indeed been listening to Molly’s explanations.
“Well, wo’ss all this then?” asked George, “Li’le Ronny’s got a napkin, eh?”
“Serviette!” contradicted Ron again, angrily.
“Alroit, serviette then,” surrendered George.
“Serviette,” agreed Fred, and, finished with their conversation, both twins looked expectantly at Molly for explanation.
“Well,” she said composedly, “I thought we might have a little… practice. For lunch today. The last time we had any sort of formal meal, the twins were almost two “ Ron must have been tiny, and Ginny wasn’t even born. And there was only close family there.” The last formal gathering they had been to had been the small wake after the funeral of Molly’s elderly Uncle Bilius; the family present had been Gideon, Fabian, Solum, the latter two’s small families and Gideon’s girlfriend, Morticia.
“Mum,” said Percy bluntly, “we know how to eat lunch.”
“Yes, you are epitome of good behaviour, absolute courtesy and exquisite taste. You show me that now and breakfast will be the only practice I’ll request.”
Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Percy, Ron, and even, she fancied, Ginny, exchanged significant looks.
“It won’t take long… will it?” asked Charlie.
“Not if you take it seriously and do your best the first time,” Molly assured him, curious. She and Arthur exchanged their own meaningful looks. “You do remember when I said no present opening until everyone’s here or afterwards?”
“Yeah,” said Bill.
“Don’t worry,” added Charlie.
“Pie!” put in Ginny, and the matter was put to rest.
In fact, the matter of how long breakfast would take was not brought up again “ not when Molly had rushed back to the oven and withdrawn the breakfast pie just in time. Not when she’d given a demonstration of how to serve oneself and everyone had done so. Not when they delicately ate. Nor when she showed everyone the proper way to set out one’s plate when finished. No one so much as asked the time when Molly, with help from Arthur, began a briefing on polite conversation and social habits, though by then most of her children (save Percy, who periodically got caught up in the moment) looked a little impatient. This compliant behaviour, with a touch of haste, matched their behaviour over the last days, but it seemed strange to occur even on Christmas morning.
“… so you need to remember to be polite the whole time “ not just until five minutes into the piece, and always be patient. You can’t have desert early, you will not burst into song whenever you“”
“But Mum!” exclaimed the twins at the same time.
“It’s Christmas!” said Fred.
“You’re meant to burst into song,” added George. Molly considered this. “It’s like a rule of Christmas Day.”
“Ok, you may burst into song, but not randomly and not only at specific times, chosen entirely because everyone’s quiet and you’d get a lot of attention.” The twins smiled evilly on opposite sides of the long table. Slightly exasperated, Molly finished. “And if it looks like you can help someone with something, do so. And that includes if I ask you to carry plates of snacks around. So… any questions?”
Percy opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but closed it again.
“Percy, did you have a quest“”
“No,” said Percy. “No questions. Everything’s clear, Mum.” He saluted weakly. “We get it.”
“So you swear to on your most formal behaviour?” demanded Molly.
“Yes, of course,” said Percy.
“Bill?”
“Yeah, Mum.”
“Charlie?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Fred?”
“We swear, Mum.”
“George?”
“Duh.”
“What was that?”
“Ditto; we swear.”
“Ron?”
“Yes, promise.”
“Ginny?”
“Yah!”
“Arthur?” He raised his eyebrows, and Molly gave him an encouraging smile.
“I swear to be on my most formal behaviour.” Molly beamed.
“Well, I’d say that’s over with, Bill,” said Fred.
“Yeah, we can hurry up and get back to the s“” began Percy, but Charlie interrupted.
“The s“school!” Molly stared at him, and there was a moment of very awkward silence while most of the children glared at Percy. “Err “ we were “ umm “ playing schools,” he explained, but he’d always been a terrible liar, a trait he shared only with Ron it seemed.
“Oh?” she said. “Is that what you’ve been up to?” They all nodded, though the oldest three looked very unimpressed with their story, even Charlie himself.
“So why is it so urgent you get back?” asked Arthur lightly, amused.
“Bill’s the teacher,” sprung in George.
“He’s harsh about tardiness,” provided Fred, and both twins smirked. Bill scowled at them.
“Yeah, we’d better get to it,” said Percy.
“Or Professor W. will be after us!” added Fred, looking fearful.
“We only came here because he said so,” said George. “See, you’re the Headmaster, Mum. Headmaster… err… Dumble-Moll.”
“Don’t you mean Headmistress?” asked Charlie pointedly.
“No, Headmaster,” said George lightly. Fred snickered.
“And Dad’s the Headmaster’s wife,” he put in. Bill cleared his throat.
“So “ err “ class. Time to get to school, don’t you think?” He stood up. Fred and George followed his lead like lightning.
“Ron! Charlie! Percy! Ginny! Quick!” cried George.
“Or we shall have to suffer Professor W.’s evil punishments,” added Fred. Bill winced, opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and closed it, picking up Ginny and heading for the door. Charlie, Percy and Ron followed. The former quite embarrassed, giving his parents an exasperatedly apologetic smile on the way.
“Just make sure you get back in time for lunch,” Molly warned them, although she knew they knew anyway.
“Hurry, Fred! We’re falling behind!” exclaimed George dramatically.
“Now we’re in for it!” groaned Fred. “Detention.”
“Thumpings…”
“Whackings…”
“Smashings…”
“Eggings…”
“Come on “ umm “ students!” snapped Bill, in his most teacher-ish voice. They jumped, and followed.
“Hangings…”
“Stonings…”
“Being trampled by chickens…” And they continued to muse about horrible punishments until their voices faded and the group was out of Molly and Arthur’s earshots.
Arthur sighed fondly, although definite confusion was evident in his voice. “What a weird set of children we have.”
“That’s one way to put it,” said Molly, and glanced through the kitchen door to the grandfather clock in the hall. Ten o’clock, and guests would start arriving at half past eleven. “It’s getting on. I should get this food going soon. Did you put the presents under the tree?”
“Molly, you saw me walk out of the room carrying them; where else would I have taken them?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” With no one else around, she had only Arthur to nag as she stood and started several things going at once. “Did you get your dress robes yesterday?”
“Yes, Molly dear. You saw me leave for Diagon Alley, and saw me get home with a bag containing an item of clothing.”
“And what about a tie, did you make sure“”
“Molly, you chose out the tie.”
“Right, yes,” said Molly distractedly, heading for the kitchen, “of course…”
Will Molly be ready in time?
What are the Weasley kids really doing?
What was really in that package?
If Gideon and Fabian have died and Solum's living overseas, who is coming to Christmas lunch?
Will Fred and George burst into song?
Will this story ever end?
All your questions answered when you join us next time for the last, and final, chapter of ‘Nothing for Christmas’…
A Climactic Christmas Lunch, Even for the Weasleys by Mind_Over_Matter
Author's Notes:
*Fireworks and small explosions, tinsel and fairylights*
Yes, my friends, Nothing For Christmas has now reached its end. No more little Ron. No more little Ginny. No more little twins, or Charlie or Bill, or, of course, Percy. And no more slightly younger Molly and Arthur.
Except, of course, for in this chapter.
I'd just love to thank you all, and thank all the Weasleys for going along with this story. Of course, I would also like to throw large chocolate wedges of gratitude at HermyRox12, my brilliant beta extraordinare and the fabulous mods who rock the proverbial sox. Now, I bring you the last, final and end chapter of
Nothing For Christmas
(just thought I'd emphasise that).
Chapter Six “ A Climactic Christmas Lunch, Even for the Weasleys
Sunday, 25 December, 1983, The Burrow, Living Room
Christmas day, late morning
Molly frantically pointed her wand out the door, and it omitted the sound of a foghorn. Wherever her children were, they would have to be able to hear it. How could it possible be eleven o’clock already? With a small, huffing sigh, she left the small crystal bowls of mousse to arrange themselves, the final seasoning to add itself to the stew and a bowl of olives to de-pip themselves, and darted irritably upstairs to get ready herself.
At eleven fifteen, Molly bustled, equally annoyed, back downstairs, and became even more so when the only presence was her own. With a low growl, she threw open the door, wand held in front of her and ready to blow like a foghorn again.
“Molly, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I see you still don’t take kindly to guests arriving early.” Molly lowered her wand, feeling her heart race from the shock. There was a man directly outside the door, as if he had been just about to knock. Tall, and almost lanky with a head of shockingly red hair, fuzzy and pointing in all directions (though not up, as he had a bald patch on top of his head), he seemed almost ageless, and could have been anywhere between twenty-five and sixty-five. As he was sitting in a muggle wheelchair, Molly’s firm wand had been directly pointed at his head.
“Arman!” she half screeched. “You gave me a death of fright.” Arman and his wife, along with an elderly mother and a couple of nieces and nephews, were what was left of Arthur’s family. It was hard to imagine him as her husband’s older brother; the physical resemblance was slightly hidden by eccentricity, which had bloomed in entirely different ways in Arthur and Arman, and had been in poor Arnold, Arman’s late twin, before his death early in 1978.
“Sorry,” he said courteously, and a glimmer of frustration became evident on his face, giving Molly the impression he would have liked to bow. Breathing heading back toward normalcy again, Molly nodded, and noticed for the first time the figures of several red-headed people walking through the garden. Finally.
“No, no. Don’t worry about it, but you’ll have to excuse the slight chaos inside.” She glanced at the small step leading into the house. “Do you “ erm…”
“No. Thank you, love, I’m glad to say I’m relatively mobile.” He gave a sad kind of smile, and Molly bustled into the house, feeling a bit awkward. She had never really been around people in wheelchairs a lot, let alone have one as a guest… disabilities such as that were usually easily curable at St. Mungo's, but Arman had been on the receiving end of particularly unusual curse. In her awkwardness, Molly wasn’t sure whether Arman would prefer privacy when navigating the step.
“Arthur! Arthur, come downstairs, your brother’s here!” Arthur appeared at the top of the stairs wearing dark brown dress robes, and grinned as he quickly made his way to the bottom. Somehow, Arman was already up the stair and in the door.
“Arman,” said Arthur, “you look at least five years younger than me. I object.”
“Arthur, you fool,” answered his brother slyly, “you should be on beauty potions too then, if it really means that much to you.”
“Do beauty potions even exist?”
“No idea, brother. I wouldn’t be surprised. They find the most diverse and ingenious ways to totally waste magic.”
Arthur showed Arman to the living room with amazing familiarity, despite having not had much contact with him for so many years, just as Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny all appeared, as dirty as ever, in the door.
“You lot! Everyone’s meant to be arriving in ten minutes!” Molly snapped.
“Don’t blame us, Mum,” said Fred.
“Yeah, blame Profess“”
“Upstairs, now!” interrupted Molly. Bill rolled his eyes.
“Ok, ok. But it’s not like we’re needed until“”
“Uncle Arman’s already here,” said Molly, “and that means anyone could arrive at any time. Bill, Charlie, I want you changed and back down to the kitchen to help me finish off within…” she paused, and checked the clock. “Five minutes. Fred, George, Percy, make sure Ron and Ginny are ready and I want you all down here within ten, understood? Off you go.” And, having left no room for argument, she hurried back into the kitchen.
The olives were de-pipped, the mousse was ready and waiting, the two huge pies were golden brown and Molly was dashing from here to there and back again, bringing dish after dish to completion. It seemed like only seconds later when Bill and Charlie appeared in the door, a little ruffled but looking perfectly charming in the black dress robes that had belonged to Molly’s two older brothers.
“We’re here,” said Bill, dutifully.
“I’d noticed. Quickly now, come over here… these crackers need cheese…”
By the time Molly heard the first knock on the door (Arman, of course, hadn’t had the chance), the crackers were as cheesed as one could hope for, sandwiches containing everything from salmon to jam were layered on huge platters, and two long rows of large beakers of juice, lined across the kitchen bench, were frosty and ready to go. The entrance hall, lounge and back garden were polished to perfection, and Fred, George, Percy, Ron and Ginny were just heading down the stairs.
“Someone answer the door,” she said, making sure not to be audible outside. The twins, both dressed in divine forest green, velvet robes and matching top hats that had once belonged to Arman and Arnold, dashed forward to the door. Each held one of Ron’s hands so he tore along between them, feet periodically flying off the floor.
With a large flourish, Fred swept open the door, and both twins gave a low bow, both top hats dropping to the floor, and both twins picking them up again with dignity.
“Good eeevening,” welcomed George formally, “our most esteeemed guests.”
“My name is Fred Weasley,” greeted Fred, “but you can call me Fred. Or Frederic. Or Frederica if you reeeally want to.”
“My name is George Weasley,” George introduced himself, “but you can call me George. Or… no, please just call me George.”
“And this,” announced Fred, “is Ronaaald Weasley.”
“But you can call him Ronald,” George informed their guests.
“Or Ron,” said Fred.
“Or Ronaldo,” finished George.
“Or Simon, but he’s unlikely to respond,” added Bill, approaching the door, obviously somewhat embarrassed by his younger brothers’ behaviour. “I’m Bill.” The twins bowed again. Molly sighed, and put down the last jug of eggplant juice, before bustling to the door.
Moving just behind the twins and Ron, Molly was able to see the small huddle of people outside. The two adults she recognised to be Lauren and Lincoln Jacobs. When Arnold and his wife, Selenia, had died, their two infant children had been adopted by Selenia’s sister, Lauren, and her husband Lincoln. Four children, none looking older than five, surrounded the couple.
“Molly!” exclaimed Lauren, “it’s been a long time.”
“Yes, too long,” agreed Molly, weaving through Ron and Fred to hug Lauren, and shake Lincoln’s hand, as he had a young child in one arm. As she did, Ron copied Molly by racing forward to hug Lauren around the knees, despite having not seen her since he was one. Lauren chuckled.
“I was a little worried about bringing all the troops,” she said.
“Oh, no. I don’t suppose I could possibly hold it against you with my seven. Why don’t you come inside and we can all be introduced…”
Fred and George seemed to thoroughly enjoy answering the door, and, since, most of the invitees seemed to find them charming rather than annoying, she did not complain. Not long after Lauren and her family had arrived, Arman had left to pick up his wife, Gloria, who, it transpired, was a muggle. The turn-out was divine, and, somehow, most people seemed to get on with each other, despite the fact that there were four generations present, the eldest guest being Arthur’s elderly great-uncle Edgar, who was one hundred and four and the youngest Ginny, then Matricula Jacobs, the fussy two-year old Lincoln had been carrying.
When everyone had arrived, Bill and Ginny led the party out to the back garden, where Molly, Bill and Charlie had hastily set out Christmas lunch on two very long tables, with the capability of seating the thirty-eight people present. During the entrée, and before the main meal was served, the twins had kept their agreement to burst into song at strategic times, with a tune Molly was almost certain they had made themselves called ‘Ode to the Christmas Day’, but this wasn’t a very accurate title. It went something like:
Fred: Ode to the Christmas day,
George: Christmas Day, Christmas Day.
Fred: Ode to the Christmas day…
George: Stop saying that, brother!
Fred: Ode to the Christmas day…
George: I said stop saying that!
Fred: Oh Ooooode to the Chriiiistmas Dayeeeee!
George: AHHHH! Hey!
And there were two other verses, one comparing Christmas day to a flower and the last comparing a flower to a Arthur’s hair. Then it was followed by an interesting dance number. The audience must have been a good incentive to put some effort into their performances. A little four-year-old called Phillip, who was something like Arthur’s cousin’s third youngest son joined in too. They received quite an applause, but Percy gave the twins an irritated talking to, leaning over the table as he and they were opposite each other. Thankfully, it didn’t end badly, and Percy got applause too.
After a little while longer, the twins started up a mournful tune about dying of starvation (also apparently self-composed), which Molly took as an invitation to serve up the main meal. With the skilled assistance of Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy and Molly’s Aunt Laura, she managed to have the lunch served in only minutes, throughout which there was a nice moment of peace while Fred and George was eating, although Ron did occasionally yell things like “AH! HEY!” or “FLOWERS, FLOWERS, FLOWERS!” and burst into giggles, which brought on speculation from Percy, who was sitting with some more of Arthur’s second cousins that Bill said he recognised from school, as to whether Ron had been bewitched with some sort of Fred and George spell, which, he assured his amused company, would give him half a brain, as the twins shared only one between them.
When the main meal had ended, Molly allowed herself to be convinced not to help clear the table or serve up desert, which she was more than grateful for. In fact, after Arthur, Aunt Laura, Bill, Charlie and Percy had cleared the table, Fred and George volunteered to serve desert, and did so admirably (and musically), with the help of only their new little friend Phillip, and Charlie stationed in the kitchen.
Now, the little crystal mousse bowls were all nearly empty, the huge platter of fruit was not quite cleared, and everyone was almost fit to burst. There was the small, yet attention-demanding sound of a spoon tinkling against a glass, and Molly groaned, before she turned and noticed that it was not, in fact, Fred or George. Nor Phillip, nor Ron, nor Percy, but old Edgar Weasley. He stood up formally, and cleared his throat, and the last of the babble died out.
“Well,” he said gruffly, “well…” No one said anything. “We have gone through a lot of separation of late, haven’t we? Most people have, and it’s been the worse disruption in the memory of any mortal man, and that includes us fellows who remember the days of Grindelwald,” he went on, knowing tone faintly resembling that of Percy. He cleared his throat again. “I lost people, we all lost people. But it seems our memories of when we were all here, and the times when we all remembered to keep in touch, and stick together are still here, and they still matter and… yes, all that. But I must say, there are a bloody lot of people here today I. Had. Never. Met! Gloria,” he nodded to Arman’s muggle wife, who was doing quite well, considering. “Lauren and Lincoln,” he nodded to them also. “And the children, that I didn’t know had even been born. But some people remembered us all, and remembered the union we once enjoyed, and which they formed in the first place, not just between us Weasleys but between us and the Prewett line… To Molly and Arthur!” he raised his glass bluntly, showering Ron, Arthur and Darren Prewett, the seven-year-old eldest son of Arthur’s cousin Alexander and his wife Riella, with firewhiskey.
Around the table, people raised their glasses of assorted drinks solemnly, and murmured Molly and Arthur’s names, and Molly felt her face burn slightly. Edgar sat down, looking pleased. Arman raised his glass again.
“Arnold,” he added loudly, and muttered something else under his breath. Of course, thought Molly, he had probably never been to a family gathering without him. She had not been to a family gathering without her brothers either, save for their short funeral.
“Arnold,” muttered everyone else.
“Selenia,” said Lauren, raising her glass also to her late sister.
“Fabian,” toasted Latima Crasken, looking close to tears, an expression Molly had seen her brother's closest friend in the past few times she had seen her (Fabian had really been Latima's closest connection to the family).
“Emmi,” said Alexander Weasley, Arthur’s cousin stiffly. Emmi had been his wife.
“Gideon,” put in Bill.
“Eddie,” Lincoln said quietly. Eddie, named after Edgar, had been Arnold and Selenia’s eldest son, and had died along with them. The atmosphere was intense, and under any other circumstances would have felt very awkward. Molly held Ginny, who was on her lap, tightly.
Everyone sat in ringing silence, knowing they could go on for a long time. So many friends and family were gone, Molly had never realised how much of a miracle it was that everyone had managed to pull this day together. Not had she truly realised just how valuable and worth it this lunch would be. Fred and George, who would usually use a tense silence to lift the mood with a large amount of ruckus, looked too nervous to do anything. Bill and Charlie were bowing their heads, Percy looked stunned, Ron a little confused and not sure of whether to cry or not and Ginny seemed a bit vacant.
“Oops,” said Edgar. “Didn’t mean to make that happen.”
Molly felt her mouth change from what must have been a frown to a weary smile, and the switch in mood seemed to spread around the table. Ron seemed encouraged by this and said,
“Edgar!” He knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice.
“Ron!” snapped Percy, in what was meant to be a scolding voice, but everyone took it to be just another toast.
“Phillip!” cried George.
“A-lex-and-err!” cried Fred.
“Gloria!” exclaimed both of the twins at the same time. Ginny shouted something incomprehensible into Molly’s shoulder that sounded something like, ‘SNOSSAGEY!’
“Hear, hear!” stated Arman, and the mournfulness of the moment disappeared, as if it had Disapparated.
“Shall we move on to the Christmas tree?” proposed Arthur, and there was a huge scramble as everyone got to their feet to go inside.
Including Molly’s family, there were thirty-eight people present, many of whom knew all or most of the others. Thus, the presents were not so much under the Christmas tree as piling up in around a quarter of the fairly large lounge room. The efforts of Fred, George, Phillip, Ron (well, he tried), Michael (Arthur’s thirteen-year-old second cousin), Percy, Charlie, Tatiana (Lincoln and Lauren’s eldest daughter) and Clara (Molly’s nine-year-old second cousin) got the presents all handed out within half an hour. Of course, many presents went to things like ‘Arthur and Molly Weasley and family’ and ‘Alexander Weasley and family’ or ‘To Lucy and Mark Gratton’.
Guests began leaving in dribs and drabs, using the wheelbarrows and crates they had used to bring their presents to others in for what they had received in return. The families with young children left first, then those with none. It was hard to tear Phillip Weasley away from the twins, and both Ginny and Rambert Weasley, Phillip’s little brother, were in tears when the latter had to go home. Bill, who was standing at the door, apologised many a time for the twins, Ron, Ginny and Percy, though no one seemed to regret their presence, and thanked everyone for coming. Still, however, through the laughs and tears, every one of Molly’s children seemed to be looking forward to something more, and that tiny hint of impatience began to return.
After a while, it was only Molly’s bunch and Arman and Gloria remaining. Bill, Charlie and Percy were with Ron and Ginny, showing them what some of the presents they had received were. Unable to help himself, Arthur was in deep discussion with Gloria about some muggle whatsit, and she seemed amused at whatever he was saying. Arman was sitting, still in his wheelchair, talking with the twins, seeming sombrely sentimental, one of the green top-hats in his hands.
Molly gave a deep sigh and flumped down on the couch.
“I don’t think I have ever had a Christmas this huge,” she said to no one in particular.
“Well, I suppose that’s what happens when you invite two families, large in themselves and half made up of children, to come,” answered Bill, dryly. “But yes. It was huge.” Molly recognised the mood of the room switch from being relaxed and drowsy to anticipation.
“Mum,” said Bill, Charlie, Fred and George all at the same time, but Bill was the one to continue.
“Look, I know we had a deal, and we haven’t broken it. You“”
“Nor did we,” said Molly hastily.
“But we“” began she and Charlie at the same time.
“You go first,” said Charlie.
“We have something for you,” said Molly. She pointed her wand at the stairs and muttered, “Accio presents!” Several “ seven, in fact “ lumpy parcels flew down the stairs and landed on the couch. The kids on the floor formed a kind of semi-circle, Ginny on Bill’s lap, and the twins joined quietly. Arman faded slightly into the background and wheeled back over to his wife. Ron climbed up onto Molly. “It’s not much,” she warned them.
“But we wanted to have something to give you,” added Arthur. He sat beside Molly on the couch, and picked up the parcels one by one, tossing them around the semi-circle.
“Because we care,” she finished. “Well, go on.”
At the same time, they all tore at the paper, all hands coming upon soft wool.
“Jumpers,” commented Fred, with a funny little smile.
“Thank you,” said George. The twins could be so sweet when they weren’t being immeasurably stupid.
“Well, we were just looking at the outfits that we and our siblings had when we were younger,” Arthur explained, “and we wanted us to have something we could look back and remember with.”
“Besides,” said Molly, “it’s a cold winter this year.” She sniffed as dress robes were scattered all over the floor and one by one her little jumpers, ranging from a tiny one-year-old’s to a larger thirteen-year olds were slipped on.
“Mum,” said Bill again. “Dad… we really didn’t break the deal. But we have something little for you too.”
“To tell the truth, we never were playing schools,” said Percy seriously.
“Yeah,” said Fred.
“That would be so stupid,” remarked George.
“We were “ look, we’ll just get them,” Charlie muttered, and jumped to his feet, dashing out the door, and followed by the other six. Left alone, Molly gathered up the dress robes and put them on a chair, though Arman still held one of the little green hats.
It didn’t take long before the door opened again, and Charlie was standing in the doorway.
“Well, we wanted to shrink them,” he told Molly and Arthur, “but uncle Arman didn’t think it was a good idea, so he just made them lighter.” And through the door he carried something very large, covered in a white sheet. It must have been the size of a large beach ball. Everyone else followed, most with objects much bigger, the older ones going back outside to fetch some of the biggest, which were almost as tall as their Christmas tree. They arranged the nine assorted objects in a sort of row in front of Molly and Arthur sitting on the couch. Bill counted to three quietly.
“One…” They all grabbed onto an area of sheet. “Two…” They made sure their grips were firm and all the sheets were held. “Three!”
As one, every child yanked a sheet or two off, and revealed several large grey mounds, each topped in red.
“We wanted a family portrait, but since we couldn’t find any paint and none of us are really any good, we decided a statue would be even better,” said Bill breathlessly. Molly just sat there, stunned until Arthur pulled her up to have a look.
On each end of the line were two statues, totally identical, except that one seemed slightly shorter. They were slightly oddly proportioned, and had legs a little like buds but longer arms, and on each head was a happy face. A little plaque beneath each announced that the one on the right was ‘George “ by Fred’ and the left was ‘Fred “ by George’.
Next on the left was a more recognisable statue, though one arm was a bit strange, reading ‘Ron “ by Bill’.
“His arm broke off,” said Percy enthusiastically. “We tried to put it back on with just the clay, but we had to use spellotape in the end.” Molly nodded, still speechless.
Then, there was a much shorter statue that looked a bit like a bean, with little bud arms and bud legs, and a blob of red on top. It had a face with one eye higher than the other, and a very small mouth. Its plaque read ‘Bill “ by Ginny’.
In the middle were two statues sharing a single plaque, that read ‘Mum and Dad “ by everyone’. Some features, like Arthur’s hair and Molly’s face were much more defined, and obviously done by Bill or Charlie, while things like Arthur’s feet and Molly’s hair were much messier and less accurate. Molly sniffed again.
Next after the middle was the first stature, beach-ball sized and named ‘Ginny “ by Charlie’. It looked like Ginny but a little stretched, shaped a bit like a trapezium, and with a very large nose.
Then came a surprisingly good statue, with hair done very well and an understandable mouth and fairly accurate eyes, though without definable hands or feet, labelled ‘Charlie “ by Percy.” Percy beamed excitedly when they reached his statue, and stood next to Molly. She put her arm tightly around his shoulders.
The last statue, between statue Fred and statue Charlie was labelled ‘Percy “ by Ron’. It was a ball, with an oval sort of head and very long skinny noodles for legs and arms. One patch was missing out of Percy’s hair, and was shaped roughly. Seeing them looking, Bill explained,
“Ron ate a handful of clay. We didn’t “ err “ notice for a while, but then… yeah.”
“That was why he was feeling sick at lunch yesterday,” said Fred brightly.
“Yeah, the paint was still wet too. We had to make sure he was washed up before you saw him.”
The silence that followed was one of the sweetest things Molly had felt all day.
“Boys,” said Arthur, “and Ginny,” he added, “this is… this is amazing.” Every one of them “ even, Molly fancied, Ginny “ blushed slightly.
“Well, we wanted to do something,” said Bill.
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “Like “ like you said. ‘Cause we care…” Molly suddenly pulled he, Bill, Percy, and Ginny, who was being carried by Bill, into her arms and promptly burst into tears. None of them seemed to know what to do.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and everyone seemed to hear.
o0oOo0o
The statues stood in the lounge for a long time, remaining next to the wall, but the next year, just before Charlie started school, they decided it was time to put them away. Reluctantly and tearfully, Molly had gone to shrink them down, but she had been stopped. Now summer, no one was using the sweaters any more, and, come next winter, they would be by far outgrown, and need new ones, which Molly planned to provide. So, on the day before the first of September, the jumpers that would fit the statues were put on, and those that didn’t were worn as scarves or capes.
After finally shrinking down the statues, Molly placed them all, carefully, on the mantelpiece, near the photos and old family portraits featuring her and Arthur’s family, as children, and what was left of the Prewetts and the Weasleys now.
Arman kept in touch with the family, having made a close connection with all the Molly’s children when he supplied them with their red paint (via his large, tawney owl) and helped them to work out how to use the clay, as well as multiplying their supply. Especially the twins seemed to take a shine to him, and Molly was glad. He seemed to take quite a shine to them also. The next time the families all met was when Arthur’s cousin, Albert, and his wife had a baby in 1985. It was not long after that that old Edgar Weasley died at 106.
The photos, the correspondence, Arnold Weasley’s little green top hat, and the statue on the mantel always stood firm in the Burrow, a memory of war, a memory of recovery, a memory of reunion and of unity, and of the potential value and the importance of a simple Christmas gift.
~~||~~
Not a word more is needed,
No more will be said,
Of this tale of a week,
With both Charlie and Fred,
And Molly and Arthur,
Bill, Percy and Ron,
And Ginny and George,
One more Christmas gone.
Whether in the dark future,
They will stick together,
A memory’s a memory,
And a memory’s forever.
The End.
Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me this whole time, and especially thank you to the helpful and encouraging reviewers, and my helpful and encouraging, wonderful beta, HermyRox12, who put in an extra special effort so I could get this posted quickly, before submitting my OC challenge entry, which is about Arman and Gloria Weasley.
Adios, mis amores!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.