Words buzzed around Arthur Weasley’s head like gnats as he gazed at his ailing wife’s pinched face. The pink lips that always split into a warm smile or puckered into a soft kiss were now tightly pursed to the point of whiteness. Her apple cheeks, once round and cheerful were hollowed and ashen. Molly’s glimmering eyes that typically blessed the world with love and compassion, squeezed together as if they meant to shield her mind from the horrors it had seen during the latest battle against Lord Voldemort and his cowardly lackeys. Arthur hadn’t seen such pain and torture on his wife’s face since the thirty-six hours she’d labored to bring their youngest child safely into the world.
“Dad, what should we do? What if the draught isn’t safe?”
“What? Should we just let her suffer and remain catatonic like the Longbottoms, Ron? Honestly!”
“You two, don’t start arguing again. Dad doesn’t need it.”
“Dad?” One of the twins spoke and Arthur felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from his beloved’s face. The only thought in his mind was that he could erase all that suffering with a word. All he had to do was agree to an experimental draught. It would erase everything that she had experienced, but there was no way to control which memories went or stayed. His Mollywobbles might never recognize him or their children again. The idea of losing her sent a tear down his cheek, but the only other alternative was to leave her in pain, an equally heinous option.
Arthur sighed and wished that Molly could tell him what she would want him to do. He relied on her to help him make all the monumental decisions that affected their family. Aside from what Molly would want, how would the children handle it if their mother didn’t know them? Ginny was already in a foul state, lashing out at anyone who came across her, especially Ron. Ron, in turn, seemed more befuddled and lost than ever. Being the youngest two, they would be the most affected, Arthur knew. The twins would hide behind their jokes; Bill and Charlie would be stoic and supportive. Percy, well…
Arthur sensed Fred and George flanking him at their mother’s bedside. Each of them took one of Arthur's hands in his own and stood a silent vigil with him as he came to the most wrenching decision of his life. The scattered voices droned on in the background. Finally, Arthur Weasley cleared his throat and squeezed the hands that clasped his. Quietly he said, “We have to try. I can’t leave her this way. We’ll just have to hope she comes back to us.” His shoulders sagged slightly and he released the twins’ hand to cover his tears. Vaguely, he heard the door open and then shut. Presumably, someone had gone to fetch a Healer.
Molly awoke feeling that she’d had the most wonderfully refreshing rest. She turned her head to the left and saw white curtains. She turned to the right and noticed that the curtains extended all around the strange bed she was in. She looked down at herself to find a pink floral patterned nightgown wound around her hips; the covers had been kicked low to expose her lower extremities. She quickly pulled them back up toward her chest. As Molly regained full consciousness, she realized with mounting alarm that she had no idea where she was. Worse, she didn’t seem to know her own name.
Her breath sped up slightly and her head ticked from side to side searching for some clue as to what was happening. Then she heard a creaking sound followed by a soft thud. Footsteps padded closer…Molly’s hands flew to her face as the drape was pulled back.
A tall, balding man with a shock of red hair stood holding a tray that contained a steaming mug and some sort of pastry. He beamed at her and rushed forward. Molly drew her head back slightly. “Stop!” she shouted in terror. “Who are you?”
The man halted in his tracks and his face deflated. His voice came out in a raspy whisper. “You don’t know me.”
In truth, she had no idea who this man was, but that didn’t prevent her from noticing his obvious misery. Not knowing why, Molly regretted having shouted at the obviously harmless individual.
“I’m very sorry for shouting. You frightened me is all. And, no, I don’t know you. Should I?”
The gentleman approached timorously. “Well, don’t be alarmed, but…” He stopped by the side of the bed and placed the tray on a side table. He sat and attempted a weak smile. “I’m your husband, Arthur Weasley. Your name is Molly Weasley.”
Molly felt her jaw fall open. She could neither dispute what he’d said nor could she recall ever seeing him before, let alone marrying him. She pulled the bedcovers closer to her chin. The man, Arthur seemed to take her silence as encouragement. “We have six children--”
“Children?” she interrupted. This couldn’t be right; surely she would have remembered giving birth to children! And six no less? “What’s happened here? Is this some sort of sick joke? You seem like a nice enough man, but if this is a game, it is quite twisted indeed!” Molly felt as if she were simultaneously drowning and as if she wanted to hurl something across the room.
Before Arthur could respond to her accusation, the door opened again to allow three people to enter the room. The first, a salt-and-pepper-haired woman wore a white cloak and held a clipboard. The other two were much younger with bright ginger hair and faces splattered with freckles. Although Molly still felt that her vocal cords were incapacitated, her mind, what remained of it, was quite sharp. She easily deduced that these last two entrants must be two of the children that Arthur mentioned.
The redheaded girl’s face lit up like a thousand suns and she rushed across to the bedside. She fell onto Molly as Arthur shouted, “Ginny, wait! She…” But Molly was already pinned by the deceptively petite young lady. Ginny held tight and Molly could feel wetness at the crook of her neck.
“Mummy! You’re all right!” the girl mumbled into her mother’s shoulder.
Molly had no words to respond, but felt a pang of sympathy for the obviously distraught child sobbing on her. She hesitantly patted the girl on the back; she couldn’t resist.
“Blimey, Ginny. Let the woman breathe.” A tall, gangly young man spoke in a semi-whisper from behind Ginny. He appeared pale and nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Molly noted that his discomfort was actually quite comical, and she could see how it might strike some as endearing.
Ginny collected herself and released Molly. Then she turned to her brother and said, “Shut it, Ron! Just because you can’t stand to show an ounce of emotion…”
Arthur intervened. “Children, this is not the time,’ he hissed. “Your mother does not need to hear your petty bickering.” He glanced at Molly apologetically. She knew she’d have to say something soon, but what? She had no recollection of any of them.
The Healer saved her by interjecting, “On the contrary, Mr. Weasley, that may be just what she needs: as much normalcy as possible. How do you feel today, Mrs. Weasley?”
Molly recognized that she was being addressed. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happened. I’m not even sure who or where I am.” The weight of her situation finally descended on her. Speaking the words seemed to confirm the horror and make it real. Molly’s hands once again covered her mouth and she began to weep.
“Mum? You don’t know who you are? Then that means…”
“That’s right, Ron. She doesn’t know us.”
Hearing the sadness in the elder man’s voice only caused Molly to cry harder. Not only did she feel miserable and confused, but she was apparently also the cause of these people’s great pain as well.
“Shhh…it’s all right, Mum,” Ginny cried with her. “We’ll take care of you. You’ll be fine.” Molly allowed herself to be embraced by the girl and to mourn her lost memories.
Molly had been released from St. Mungo’s the same day that she had been reintroduced to her husband and two youngest children. When she had protested about going home with complete strangers, she was given many assurances that if she returned to her everyday routine, her memory should return gradually. Besides that, after the attack, St. Mungo’s needed as many beds as they could get. That had been a week ago and she’d been welcomed by the rest of her family. She still didn’t feel quite right with the label.
Molly had felt a deep sense of foreboding when she saw the outside of the dilapidated structure they called The Burrow. When she entered, however, the sweet smell of wildflowers and the delectable aroma of something she thought could be peach pie greeted her. The outside of the house belied the space within, which had been cleaned to an inviting sparkle. Although Molly didn’t recognize any of the things as hers, the obvious effort toward making her feel at home warmed her. “Are you sure so many people live here?” she asked. “It’s so clean! How is that possible?” She chuckled with a mixture of relief and delight at the wonderful hominess of the place.
“Ginny and Fleur wanted it to feel like home for you, mum.” The man who’d said that had introduced himself as Bill. Molly experienced a pang of sorrow when she looked at him. He had a strong, handsome face that had somehow been marred by scarring.
During the course of the week, Molly became reacquainted with the occupants of The Burrow, as well as those members of the family who lived elsewhere. Charlie lived in Romania, but stopped in every day with wild tales of dragon taming that made Molly cringe. She learned that she had a set of twins: Fred and George. As of yet, she couldn’t tell the difference between the two, but she quickly learned what a handful they were! If she heard, “No, mum, I’m Fred,” once more while they were teasing her mercilessly, she’d teach them a thing or two about pranks. They were quite successful at their business, but within only one afternoon, they had driven Molly bonkers. She never knew if she wanted to be annoyed or amused by their antics. Mostly they were funny, but she quickly came to strongly disapprove of the way they tormented poor Ron.
On Molly’s third day home, she was tidying the living room and picked up the twins’ cloaks, which had been tossed over the back of the couch. A couple of candies fell out. The wrappers read, Ton-Tongue Toffees. She stuffed them in her apron intending to return them when she got back to the table. As she approached, she heard the twins harassing Ron about something or other. She couldn’t hear what it was, but she saw from across the room that he was as red as a rose and trying very hard not to let them get the better of him; he was failing. What made matters worse was the presence of the bushy haired girl, Hermione. Ron always seemed tenser when she was around, but somewhat sad and distracted when she wasn’t. Molly watched for a moment with a disappointed frown creasing her brow, and her hands slipped into her apron pocket. She found the candies and her wand and was struck with an idea.
Molly approached the table where everyone was tucking into their breakfasts of eggs, sausage and muffins. “Fred, George, I made you boys some special muffins; did you see?” There had been a platter of muffins in the center of the table. Without removing her wand from the apron, Molly pointed it at the two remaining muffins, which luckily were closest to the twins. “I seem to recall something about banana-walnut muffins being something that you liked? Or was that Charlie?” Charlie looked up at the mention of his name, realized that he wasn’t being addressed and went back to the delicious meal. He had to leave for work very soon.
“Oh, yes! Mum, we-“ George began.
“-Love Banana-walnut muffins!’ Fred finished.
“But, Mum! I like them, too! Aren’t there any more?” Ron was even more upset now. Molly caught his eye and gave him the slightest wink. He appeared confused, but then he finally caught on. “Fred, George,” Ron wailed, “you could share at least. We are brothers, you know.”
“Not a chance-“
“-Ickle Ronniekins!” With that (Molly had no idea who had said what at that point), they both took monstrous bites out of the muffins, licking their lips to taunt their younger brother.
First, Fred wrinkled his face as if he had bitten into a bug. Next, George’s eyes widened in horror. The grand finale came when they both opened their mouths to speak and their tongues lolled out onto the floor. They glanced at each other and then, incredulously at their mother. With a flourish, they Apparated out of the room. Ronapplauded. “That was brilliant, mum!” He went over and threw an arm around Molly’s shoulders. Everyone around the table was roaring with laughter now.
Molly joined in. “If they’re always dishing it out, I figured they could take a dose of their own potion.”
“Wicked! About the muffins…” Ron asked, still grinning, “…did you remember that they were the twins’ favorites? That’s excellent!”
“Unfortunately, no, Ron. I didn’t.” Molly’s shoulders slumped; her fun at the prank began to evaporate. “I just heard them mentioning it last night after dinner. I wish I had remembered. I really wish I had.”
Ron was an interesting character, Molly noted. She was able to observe him and Ginny the most because they were home the most in addition to Hermione and Harry, the dark-haired, bespectacled boy. Her son seemed unable to see his own worth and that saddened Molly. She wondered if, at some point in time, she had contributed to his lack of confidence, and hoped that one day he would learn to be a bit more self-assured. She also noticed that there often seemed to be a lot of whispering going on between the three friends and that Ginny was often very scarce when Harry was around. She decided to ask the question that had been bothering her.
“Is there something going on with you lot that you should perhaps share? It isn’t very polite to whisper; at least I don’t think it is. My brain may be addled, but I still hear rather well.”
“Er…sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. “We’ll stop. It’s nothing, really.”
Molly raised an incredulous eyebrow, but chose to comment instead on the other issue she’d been pondering.
“And dear, Hermione is it? Perhaps I should just give you and my son the count of three and you can stare at each face to face instead of at the backs of each other’s heads. For heaven’s sake, I think the two of you should just spit out whatever it is you have to say and be done with it.”
Ron turned purple; Hermione, who had indeed been staring at him, dropped a forkful of food in her lap; Harry spewed juice across the table and nearly fell out of his seat laughing.
Each day, Molly received a stream of visitors, friends of the family, apparently. First there was a Mad-Dog Moody or some such nonsense. He was peculiar and more than a little frightening with his mutilated face. But after about an hour, Molly warmed to him. His manner was gruff, but when he apologized to Molly for not seeing her when she was attacked, he was sincere. Molly got the sense that he was loyal and protective of her family and that made him all right in her book.
Another day brought a visit from Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Poor Lupin was mangled even more than Bill, but not quite as much as Moody. Regardless of his looks, he was incredibly sweet, almost shy. He and the Tonks girl were obviously in a relationship and in love, although he tried very hard not to display it.
Tonks was a problem. As nice as she was, and as eager to help, she was just “ there was no nice way to put it “ a complete klutz. When she and Lupin had arrived by Floo, Tonks immediately tripped over the hearthrug and sent a big cloud of soot into the living room. That Molly could forgive easily, but later Tonks bumped into the table as she scrambled to give Molly an egg for the cake she was making. Tonks had lost control of the egg, which smacked right into Molly’s forehead, which caused Molly to startle and spill the cake batter down her front. Tonks remained still and quiet for the rest of the visit. Molly was convinced that poor Lupin was in more danger from this girl than from the evil Dark Lord that she had been learning about. Eventually, Molly pitied her and gave her a hug as they left.
Each evening the entire family ate dinner together. Bill’s fiancé, Fleur, had prepared the meal that first night home. What a stunning young woman, Molly thought when they had first been introduced. By the end of the meal, however, her thoughts had changed to, my goodness, how does he stand her? How can one person be so full of herself? And her cooking is terrible! It’s practically raw! I’ll certainly have to take over after this or she’s likely to kill us all before I get my memory back. Molly reclaimed her kitchen after that.
Every night, Arthur showed Molly pictures to help her remember. Sometimes Ginny would curl up beside her and look through the pictures as well. The smell of her daughter’s hair had a soothing effect on Molly’s nerves, so she welcomed Ginny’s presence. Her family continued to tell her stories of their past together, but nothing seemed to spark any strong recollections.
Before bed one night, she turned to look at her husband. He’d been incredibly sweet and attentive. She felt lucky to have had his support through the difficult adjustment. “Arthur,” she said, now feeling comfortable with the name rolling past her lips, “thank you for trying so hard. I’m sorry it isn’t coming back. But I do feel as though I belong here if it’s any consolation. I feel as if I am really home. I just wish I could remember the details.”
Arthur embraced her, and she did not pull away. His arms felt safe.
Toward the end of the second week, Molly had had quite enough of the constant ‘company’ of her family and friends. She knew that they meant well, but on the other hand, she was no invalid. She decided to put a halt to the coddling one morning at the end of breakfast.
Bill and Fleur canoodled at one end of the table. The twins, just stopping in for a bite, harassed a very flushed Ron who they had apparently caught in a compromising position with Hermione. Ginny listlessly pushed eggs around her plate and Harry made feeble attempts to not look at her. Arthur stared sightlessly at the fireplace.
Molly slammed her fork onto the table and got the effect she hoped for. They all looked at her, startled out of their previous mental wanderings.
“All right, you lot. That’s enough. I appreciate you all caring for me so well since I’ve been home, but I think you should get on with your normal routines.” They gaped like fish and she continued. “Arthur, I heard you talking to your office through the Floo yesterday. Don’t you think it’s time you returned to work?”
“But Molly, I don’t want to leave…”
“I can take care of myself for a few hours, Arthur. I’m not a child. I at least know that much.”
He shrank guiltily and Molly regretted being so harsh. “Arthur, the Healers said we should behave normally. I can’t imagine that you work from home every day. Try it for a few hours. I’ll be fine.” He acquiesced, reluctantly and went to the living room to let the office know he’d be in.
“Fred and George, you have a business to run. Go run it and leave your poor brother alone.” The twins appeared scandalized at first, then in tandem jumped up, kissed their mother and Apparated away.
“Bill, you and Fleur are getting married in just over a week. You must have flowers or robes or something to buy?”
“Well, mum, actually we haven’t looked at rings yet. If you’re sure you don’t mind…”
“Yes, go!”
The couple practically fell over each other, giggling as they rushed up the stairs to get ready.
“You four!” She turned on the youngest members of the group. “I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck inside on a beautiful morning. Ron, take Hermione for a walk. Harry and Ginny, whatever is making you both so unhappy, go settle it. But I warn you, Harry Porter…”
“Potter, mum.” Ginny corrected.
“Right, Potter. If I see my daughter wiping her eyes one more time when she thinks I’m not paying attention, I’m going to hang you from the rafters by your toes. Now, all of you go and enjoy the day.” She discharged them with a grin, feeling somewhat gratified that everyone seemed as disoriented as she’d been for the past couple of weeks.
Molly didn’t express it, but she wanted the time alone to explore the house on her own. For a few days, she had been experiencing a tickle of something trying to break through the surface of her consciousness. She just couldn’t quite reach it.
She began in the kitchen and cleaned up the breakfast mess. She then moved to the top rooms, straightening and tidying each one as she went. She lingered longer than she really needed to, just to soak up the atmosphere of each individual space. Shimmers of recollections swam through the dark ocean of her mind.
In her bedroom, she saw an image of Arthur clasping a string of pearls behind her neck. Bill’s room brought about a vision of him as a boy hiding under the bed playing a chasing game with Charlie. The smell of sulfur in the twins’ old room reminded her vaguely of new sheets being set on fire at some point in time. She remembered Ginny’s first birthday party and Ron’s bear turning into a spider. Snippets of information flickered to illuminate the depths of her subconscious, but she couldn’t seem to grasp any of them firmly. She came to a last room that was incredibly musty and stale. There was something important about this room…it lurked right at the edge of her psyche, if she could only give it that last little nudge. After a few moments, she gave up and resumed her investigation.
Molly roamed the living room, arranging pillows and candles absently. Then her sights were drawn toward her left, to the wall between the kitchen and living room. Something clicked, almost audibly, as if a lock had opened. An old grandfather clock rested against the wall. Molly took a few steps closer to study it more intently. There were many golden hands on the face of the clock, each with the name of one of her family members. One hand, however, was broken. Molly stumbled backward as her breath caught in her throat. An icy chill rippled through her. She recovered and stepped even closer. Her hands felt clammy as she reached up to reposition the broken part so that she could read the name inscribed. The moment she read the name, her brain was flooded with pictures elicited by the object beneath her fingertips…
Streams of light in every color of the spectrum ricocheted off the Ministry walls as the battle raged on. The Death Eaters, emboldened by Albus Dumbledore’s recent demise, launched an all out attack seemingly just to create a nuisance. The Order of the Phoenix was called in to help. Bodies, ducking and weaving between hurled spells, cluttered the atrium. The surrounding walls had so many holes that they resembled Swiss cheese. The Death Eaters wore masks to avoid recognition; their numbers seemed to have grown.
Molly rushed in with the other Order members and was met with smoky, chaotic mayhem. Despite the frenzy around her, she had no trouble locating her sons. Bill and Fleur fought back to back and held their own impressively. Molly had a moment to think that she was glad Fleur had some spunk in her. Then she found Percy, backed into a corner by two Death Eaters. Molly hastened to his aid.
She waded through the sea of bodies determined to reach her estranged boy. Finally she was close enough and had a clear shot. “Expelliarmus!” she cried toward one Death Eater’s back, and his wand flew from his hand. “Impedimenta!” She waved her wand toward the other one, and he was knocked to the side. Percy came rushing toward her. It seemed that he was trying to shout something, but the noise drowned him out.
All thoughts of the battle left her as she held out her arms toward her beloved son. He reached her; instead of catching his mother in his arms like she expected, Percy knocked her to the side and attempted to raise his wand at the same time. He was a heartbeat too slow. A jet of green light struck his shoulder and he dropped where he stood.
“Percy!” Molly howled and fell to her knees beside her child who had just sacrificed himself for her. “Percy, No!” So distraught that she forgot about the attacker, Molly suddenly felt a searing heat enter her spine. It spread through her like wild fire. Then she had the sensation of a million bolts of electricity being sent through her. Claws tore at her, her skin felt as if it was being torn from her in a thousand tiny strips at once. Molly shrieked in agony as the effects of the Cruciatus Curse beat her closer to madness. The physical pain was horrendous, but the worst effect was the persistent replaying of a single image upon her internal projection screen: Percy crumpling dead at her feet…
Molly screeched like the curse still consumed her. The pain and memory were too great to bear. Far off in the distance, she heard voices calling to her,
“Mum!” Was it really Ginny, or the curse toying with her perceptions?
“Mum, what is it?” Ron.
What was happening? What was real? Molly ventured to open her eyes. Ginny knelt next to her, tears flowing down her face while she clutched at Molly’s shoulders in an attempt to shake her back to reality. Ron appeared, panic-stricken with red-rimmed eyes. Momentarily, Arthur came to Molly’s side and she wilted into his arms. He would protect her from the terrible nightmare.
Molly awoke in her bed the next morning. Outside in the sunshine, a tiny sparrow tapped along the windowsill. Arthur stared morosely at the bird; he was unaware that Molly had awakened.
“Arthur?” He turned to face her, and met her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? All the pictures and stories…why did no one tell me?” Her voice was flat and even. She harbored no animosity, just merely needed to hear the explanation. Now she remembered everything.
“Molly, the Healers thought it best that you remember gradually. They thought the shock may have been too much for you, and it nearly was. We were instructed, before you were given the potion, to remove all traces of Percy until you started to recall him on your own. I was never comfortable with it, Molly, but I just didn’t want to cause you more pain than you’d already been through. It seems that I failed. I’m sorry.”
She reached out a hand to him and slowly he crossed to the bed to join her. Molly held Arthur’s hands in both of hers. "Arthur, I have a very vague recollection of something else, but I need you to clarify it for me.”
Arthur tensed, seeming to know the question that was about to be asked. “Yes, Molly?”
“What happened to the Death Eater who…did that to us?” Her eyes bored into him, but he straightened and held her gaze.
“He’s dead. It was Augustus Rookwood, and he’s dead. I saw Percy go down, and then what Rookwood was doing to you, and…while you were in the hospital, there was an inquiry. It was found to be defense.”
“Arthur, Percy…he died and we never got the chance to reconcile.” Molly sniffled and struggled to keep hold of her emotions.
“Oh, Molly. That doesn’t matter. He always knew that he was loved. And from his actions, we know that he never stopped loving his family. I’m proud to call him my son, and I like to believe that he knows it wherever he is.” Arthur wrapped his arms around Molly. Her tears gushed and would not be stopped.
She cried for hour after hour, day after day. When she thought that there were no more tears left, from somewhere deep within, more surfaced. Molly stayed in her room, accepting only brief visits from her family. Little by little, the tears abated and her wounds began to heal.
One afternoon, Molly sat in her bed woolgathering. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was in two days. She needed to prepare. From her room, she heard laughter: the twins, Ron and Ginny, Harry and Hermione. There was pure joy in the air for a change. Molly reflected on her son’s heroism and her own ordeal that followed. It occurred to her that the ties that bound her family would never be severed. They might be stretched to their limits; more often, they were strengthened and fortified. As time passed, more bonds would be added to the old ones. Fleur would become an official member of the Weasley clan, and perhaps Hermione and Harry would as well one day. It would just be a formality; she already loved them all as her own. Molly understood that there was no force in the world that could destroy the love within her family. Anger, memory loss, not even death would ever tear them apart.