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’…
Nothing for Christmas by Mind_Over_Matter
Chapter 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!