Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Molly Weasley
Genres:
Drama Character Sketch
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 06/27/2004
Updated: 06/27/2004
Words: 1,661
Chapters: 1
Hits: 464

Thirty Years

QuinFirefrorefiddle

Story Summary:
Molly Weasley is writing her thirtieth anniversary letter to Arthur, but is sidetracked by childhood memories.

Posted:
06/27/2004
Hits:
464


Arthur love,

Thirty years, seven children, two wars, and one dilapidated house: we've kept a lot of things together, now haven't we? And it's been no small amount of work, the children especially.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying to clean up after them. I know that in the end it won't really matter anyways, with things in the world as they are today, whether or not their socks are properly folded hardly matters. Honestly, I'm waiting for one of them to say, "Oh, sorry, Mum, I can't clean my room just now, I'm terribly busy saving the world!"

And I won't even be able to laugh at the ridiculous nature of it, because it will be true. Whoever thought that my children would be saving the world? Me, poor little Molly Prewett, all grown up now and with a brood of my own. A family so full of tragedy that they couldn't bear to bring up one of their own has ended up producing (from what gather of the children's complaints) one of the most famous mothers in all Hogwarts.

Not that Master and Mistress Clearwater were so bad. They were always kind to me. They never tried to be my parents; we had more of a renter's relationship, even if I was only thirteen years old. But of course watching Papa die had aged me a fair bit. And visitors wonder why I dole them out such large portions at meals.

We managed to get marriage right the first time, and Papa's road had several more bends in it than that. And our children are such Gryffindors! Good-hearted and brave (to the point where they can even deceive us in order to protect us... that still amazes me, love) and nothing like- well, you remember my half-sisters and how they met their ends. They know running away doesn't solve anything, and I'm proud of them for it.

Molly Weasley sat back from the letter and tried to remember where she had meant to go with this train of thought. She certainly wasn't going to dwell on her past in an anniversary letter.

A cold gust came through the window at that moment, and the memories came anyway.

The house was kept cold, as Papa liked it that way, and Toby their Brownie (couldn't quite afford a house elf, and Brownies were about as good if you didn't mind the temper and were extra nice to them) wouldn't listen to anyone but Papa. So all the windows were open all the time and Molly had learned to knit warm things to wear almost before she could read. Some of her stepmothers thought it a practical hobby and allowed it, but two had objected.

Mother Anna had thought it too precocious for a girl of seven to be knitting bedspreads and tried to make her go play with dolls and things all the time. So Molly had learned to hide in places Mother Anna wouldn't look while she knit, like the pantry or under the sink. The nice thing about Mother Anna was that she was not terribly stubborn so hiding worked very well.

Mother Faith had higher aspirations for her stepdaughter than knitting, and tried to teach her French and drawing during her summer home, occupations that were more ladylike than common knitting. Molly had tried reverting back to her old hiding places (though at twelve she didn't fit under the sink as well as she had in the past) but found Mother Faith considerably more determined than Mother Anna had ever been. The summer she was twelve was the least enjoyable she experienced up to that point.

Of course the next summer was worse. The night Mother Faith left was terrible. Father was slightly ill at the time, so it fell to thirteen year old Molly to answer Mother Faith's screams with some of her own.

No child should have to defend her ailing father from charges of impotence leveled by his adulterous wife. Molly was proud of her efforts, though. Spending time around Alastor Moody had greatly expanded her vocabulary, and she put it to good use that night.

Finally the door slammed behind Mother Faith forever, and Molly was left with only Papa and Toby.

But Papa didn't last long. He kept telling Toby to make his portions at meals smaller and smaller, and Toby obeyed Master Prewett without question. Molly ordered him to feed Papa properly, and when he didn't listen she ordered louder, and then threatened horrible things. A few of those things she actually carried through with, once Papa got worse. But Toby wouldn't listen and wouldn't stop helping Papa suicide by starvation, and Papa wouldn't admit what he was doing to Molly, he just kept saying he wasn't hungry.

She would have believed him if not for the hopeless look in his eyes.

The loss of his seventh wife proved to be his undoing. The night that he died he had Molly bring him the photo albums, and he went through them with her, telling her things about the women he had married that she never knew. Mother Faith, wife number seven, had always been terribly frightened of thunderstorms. She, of course, had left him.

Mother Susan had been allergic to wool, but liked Molly so much she hid it from her to let her keep her knitting. Her parting from Papa had been much more amicable, and she and Molly kept up a correspondence for some years afterwards.

Mother Cara had spent three years of her childhood deaf due to a run in with a magical creature Papa couldn't pronounce the name of, which meant that she always spoke loudly; Molly had always thought she was simply mad at her. She had died in an unusual accident involving a mink cloak and a Lethifold.

And of course Mother Tabitha, and her twin daughters Samantha and Tessa Fawcett, who had driven the household batty with their whining incessantly. Mother Tabitha had lasted longer than most of the others, almost three years, in spite of her daughters. Not as long as Molly's own mother, whose marriage lasted longer than any of her successors, but close. Mother Tabitha had left in a huff with both her daughters over a disagreement in parenting styles that the neighbors had seen coming three years in advance.

And then Mother Anna, who had always treated Molly as though she was three years younger than her chronological age. She was not entirely to blame for that, however. She had had a son, in a previous marriage; he had died when he was about four. It had killed that marriage and very nearly killed her. She lasted about a year before Papa had noticed the hallucinations and she remained in St. Mungo's for the rest of her life.

Once, only once while under Mother Tabitha's "care" (which amounted to something closer to the Cinderella story without a prince than Papa ever knew) she had thought to herself that she was grateful that the boy had died; if this was what stepsiblings acted like she wanted no part of it.

Papa had caught her smashing her face with the lamp and they had sat down and had a nice long chat about why witches and wizards don't punish themselves like that, yes even if the Boltrope's house elves do.

And then of course there was Iris, and while Papa's gaze settled for a long while on the photos of his first wife, Molly wasn't much interested. She put the album with her mother's name on it next to him, and quietly waited for him to pick it up. After a few more moments he picked up the volume of his second wife Martha Flourish and told her of her mother's smiles and quirks and how he loved her more than any of his other wives, and almost as much as he loved Molly herself. Mother had died fighting some of Grindlewald's last remaining holdouts. Molly had been nearly three at the time, and it would be four years before her father remarried.

She fell asleep next to him that night, and woke to find him dead beside her.

The funeral was a quiet affair, with Molly, a few assorted Prewetts, and Mothers Susan and Tabitha. Thankfully Tabitha's daughters were absent; she did not want them exposed to such a morbid event at their tender age (which was a load of dingo's kidneys, they were both Slytherins in Molly's year at Hogwarts and had pulled tricks on Hufflepuff first years that made professors pale) as it might hurt their delicate sensibilities.

Molly spent a few quiet weeks with Mother Susan while her extended family figured out what to do with her. Mother Susan would have liked to take her in, but could not afford a growing teenager on her small budget and in her smaller apartment for more than the month Molly stayed. The rest of the Prewetts were either rather aged (of her father's age or more) or had large, bustling families that Molly, as an only child, wouldn't blend in well with. Therefore it was decided that Molly would summer with the Clearwaters, old family friends who had no children of their own and plenty of room. She would have her own room, as she was used to, and could then move out on her own after graduating Hogwarts.

So she went back to Hogwarts. So she lived through the rest of her teenage years, and met Arthur and let him convince her to get married. So she had children and worked to vanquish a dark wizard of her own. And so when she was tired, or bored, or worried, she knit. And life went on.

Molly went back to her letter.

We've built so much, love. And I'm proud to be a part of it. Thanks for convincing me.

I love you. As usual.

Yours forever,

Molly Weasley


Author notes: Of course Molly’s mother was a Flourish, how else could she afford all those Lockhart books? The Clearwaters mentioned are actually Penelope’s great-uncle and aunt. Keep in mind that during Molly’s childhood the wizard world had vanquished a dark wizard twenty or so years previously, Grindlewald (if Molly’s a teen during the late 60s/early 70s, I wrote this without the aide of the Lexicon so I was vague on purpose) and waiting for Voldemort to show up when Molly’s in her mid-twenties, perhaps? There would probably still be hangers-on around in the early fifties, when Molly would have been born. Three extra credit points to whoever spots the HHGttG reference! There are other stories hinted at in this story on purpose. I might get around to them one day. We’ll see.