Peace at Home

Chapter 1

"He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home."
-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The clock stuck nine in the Weasley household. Molly Weasley looked up from her knitting and sighed, staring at the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. Four hands - Molly, Bill, Charlie, and Andrew - pointed to Home. One - Arthur - still pointed to Work. Molly wished her husband wouldn't work so late, especially on Sunday nights. Unfortunately, this had become the norm as the Ministry of Magic, where Arthur worked, tried desperately to keep up with You Know Who. Molly sighed again and went back to knitting. She was sitting on the large couch in front of the fireplace while two of her sons, Bill and Charlie, ran around the living room. The youngest son, Andrew, who was only three, had been put to bed two hours ago.

"Don't run in the house," Molly warned the boys.

"Can we go run outside?" Bill asked. The windows were all open, letting in the cool breeze of the late summer night.

"No, you may not," Molly answered, "You will stay indoors and settle down. You'll wake your brother."

"Why can't we go out?" Charlie demanded.

"Because it's not safe."

"Why not?"

Molly hesitated. "Because it's dark and there are scary things out there."

"I'm not afraid of the dark," Bill scoffed.

"That's good, hon. Now play quietly with your brother or go to bed."

With minimal grumbling, the boys went back to their Quidditch action figures Death Match. Molly looked at the small clock on the mantle piece: 9:08. She again went back to her knitting. The small woolen swath of blue was going to be a sweater for her youngest - if she ever stopped getting interrupted. A rough knocking on the door caused the constant clack of her knitting needles to falter.

"Dad's home!" Charlie yelled, jumping up from his seat on the floor.

Molly began to smile hopefully as she put her knitting down and stood up. But as she rose from the couch, her eyes lighted on the grandfather clock. The hand labeled Arthur was still pointed firmly to Work.

"Charlie, wait. Let me see who it is first."

The boy stopped, halfway to the door.

Who could be calling at this hour? Molly wondered as she slowly walked to the door. Perhaps someone needs Arthur's help and doesn't know he's still at the Ministry.

The Weasleys sometimes took in witches and wizards on the run from Voldemort and his minions. A late night pounding on the door was not unheard of, but was not something Molly had gotten accustomed to. The loud knock was repeated and Molly muttered "I'm coming, I'm coming" as she walked to the door. She placed the tip of her wand on the door's deadbolt and murmured the charm to unlock it. Then, leaving the safety chain on, she opened the door a few inches and looked out. A short, scrawny man dressed in ink black robes stood on the stoop.

"Arthur," he growled.

"Excuse me?" Molly was taken aback by the man's harsh disposition.

"Arthur Weasley. I want to see Arthur Weasley," he growled again, leaning closer to the door. He was sweating noticeably in the cool air.

"I'm afraid he's not home right now. Perhaps if you contact the Ministry tomorrow morning they'll put you through to him." Molly began to shut the door. The man's manner was making her uncomfortable.

"I have a message for him" the man said quickly.

"Contact the Ministry. They'll give it to him." She began to shut the door again, a little faster this time. The man roughly thrust his hands at the door, pushing it as far open as the chain would allow. Molly gasped in surprise. The man stuck his face to the gap between the door and the doorframe then hesitated, as if unsure of what to do. Then his eyes hardened and he sneered at Molly.

"I have a message for Arthur Weasley from my Master and I will deliver it tonight."

The blood drained from Molly's face and she froze with fear.

"Open the door," the Death Eater snarled.

The words propelled Molly into action. She shoved her weight against the door in an attempt to close it. As she pushed against the man on the outside, she turned her head quickly around to her children. They were frozen in place, standing behind her in the living room. Charlie looked on the verge of tears.

"Charlie, go up to Andy's room. And stay there. Bill, go to the kitchen. Get our owl. Go to Andy's room. Write a quick letter to your father. Watch your brothers."

Before either boy had time to act, the door blew off its hinges, propelling Molly to the middle of the room. Charlie let out a howl as wood shrapnel pierced his skin. Molly lay stunned on the floor. The Death Eater stepped gingerly over the threshold, his face turning white as he saw Bill trying to rouse his prone mother.

"Mummy, mummy, get up," Bill wailed, tugging on her arm.

"You...your brother...get your brother...run," Molly said breathlessly. The boys merely clung to her as the man slunk into the room. Bill continued to tug on her arm until she half rose and attempted to push her children behind her.

"Get out of my house," Molly yelled with all the strength she could muster.

The man stopped his nervous pacing and glared at Molly with ice in his eyes.

"Get out of my house!"

He swung his wand-arm out in a furious gesture toward the large wooden shelves in the corner. They exploded in a fury of splinters and ravaged books. The boys yelled in terror as Molly tried to protect them from the blast. An especially large book, its covers ripped off and pages flying in all directions, hurled across the room and smashed into the grandfather clock in the opposite corner. Molly choked off a sob as the glass shattered and the clock tipped over and crashed into the wall behind it. However, the prized timepiece appeared to be still working as the hand marked Arthur still pointed to Work and the other four were firmly affixed at Mortal Peril.

As the rubble settled, the living room was filled with a horrid silence. Molly remained crouched over her two sons as tears from their tightly closed eyes ran down their cheeks. The Death Eater again turned white as he stared wide-eyed at the destruction he had caused. A book fell to the floor with a loud bang and the man jumped, looking around the room anxiously. After seeing that Bill and Charlie were unhurt, Molly turned back to the Death Eater.

"What do you want from us?" she asked tensely, her low voice quavering in the silent room.

The Death Eater jumped at the sound of her voice and made a visible effort to compose himself.

"I have a message for your husband."

He paused.

"You must tell him that my Master knows he has been hiding enemies of the Dark Lord. You must tell him that if he ever hides another Mudblood in his house, he and his wife and his children will be killed. And you must tell him that the Dark Lord is showing him mercy, and that he will be forgiven for his traitorous deeds in servitude to the Dark Lord. You must tell him."

His speech over, the Death Eater seemed unsure of what to do. He stood rocking back and forth on his heels, looking around the battle-scarred room. Molly held her frightened sons tightly, staring aghast at the nervous man.

"Mummy, I had a bad dream." The silence was broken by a small voice at top of the stairs. The Death Eater looked around fearfully. His face was drenched with sweat. Thumpy toddler steps clomped down the stairs. Andy's feet appeared on the steps, followed by his body and then his chubby face. He stopped in the middle of the flight and shrieked as he saw the destruction in the living room. The Death Eater jumped and yelled loudly. A beam of green light shot out of his wand at Andy. Bill and Charlie screamed and clutched at their mother, burying their faces in her robes. Andy's tiny body flew backwards into the stairs and slid down to the floor. The Death Eater yelled again, this time not a spell, and fled from the house like a frightened rabbit.

Molly heard his voice once more, choked and muffled from the outdoors.

"MORSMORDRE"

The children, still clinging tightly to Molly, whimpered and cried. Molly stared in shock at her youngest son lying lifeless on the floor.

"Andy," she whispered, "Andy."

The cool wind, coming now through the windows and hole in the doorway ruffled his short messy red hair. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open. He looked just as he did when he was sleeping. But his chest was still and his face was slowly growing pale.

"Andy."

Molly moved numbly towards the motionless boy, dragging her other sons along with her. She took him in her arms like she did every morning, but now his legs and arms flopped limply and his head rolled unnaturally. She held him closely to her chest, feeling neither breath nor pulse in his body. She collapsed to the floor, still clutching him to her, crying uncontrollably and murmuring his name.

The grandfather clock leaning precariously against the wall in the corner still worked despite the damage done to it. The hand labeled Arthur pointed to Work. The ones labeled Molly, Bill, and Charlie pointed once again to Home. The smallest hand, labeled Andrew, hung limply at the bottom, swaying back and forth like a dead thing.