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The Burrow


Molly Weasley came down the stairs, waving her wand as she went, collecting alphabet blocks from between the bannisters, sending them into an open trunk behind the living room couch, where Arthur was asleep, snoring, with little Charlie sitting on his lap, flipping happily through the dragon pop-up book, clapping as a large purple dragon’s tail curled about above the book. Charlie reached out his chubby, one-and-a-half year-old fingers, trying to catch it. He was leaning so far over that he nearly was about to topple… Molly rushed forward in a panic, “Arthur!” she exclaimed, and her husband sputtered, woke up just enough to see the precariously placed baby on his lap, and grabbed onto the back of Charlie’s striped shirt, firmly keeping him in place.

Arthur pulled Charlie back against him, sitting up, knotting his fingers over the front of him. “Appears the wrong one of us fell asleep,” he chuckled.

“You know that book doesn’t put him to sleep,” Molly scolded.

“But he loves it such a lot,” Arthur said, smiling and bending down, placing a kiss on the wispy ginger hair that covered Charlie’s big round head.

“But not for bedtime!” Molly said. She waved her wand and more of the toys that were strewn about the room collected themselves in the trunk behind the couch. Toy broomsticks and wooden trains that puffed real smoke, wooden owls and stuffed fantastic beasts… She bend low and scooped up the dragon book - raising a cry out of Charlie, who grabbed for the teal, scale-textured cover. Molly quickly replaced it with a stuffed Chinese Firebolt, and Charlie squeezed the toy dragon to his chest, hugging it tightly so that the dragon’s head flopped against his sticky baby cheek.

Arthur smiled.

Molly put the book back on a squat little shelf, kneeling to look over the titles, and finally she selected one and sat herself down on the couch beside Arthur and Charlie, sitting so that her neck fit in the crook of Arthur’s shoulder and baby Charlie sat on the surface created where their laps met, his back against each of them, his cheek pressing against his mummy’s shoulder as she opened the book and Arthur looked over Charlie’s shoulder at the pages, just as interested in the story as the baby was.

“Once upon a time,” read Molly, “There was a boy who loved dragons. It was in a time when dragons filled the skies, like birds, and there were all sorts of dragons - big dragons… and little dragons… Most people in the village that the boy lived in thought he dragons a terrible thing. They hated dragons! But the boy thought them all brilliant… At night, he would look out his window and watch them fly past the moon… and the boy would dream of one day riding a dragon and becoming it’s friend…”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Molly looked up.

Arthur shook back the sleeve of his jumper from his wrist to see his watch. “Who could it possibly be at this hour?” he asked, and he lifted Charlie up from his lap, depositing him carefully onto Molly’s, and got up, pushing his way out of the deep couch cushions.

A couple errant garden gnomes, who had snuck in to hear the bedtime story, rushed to hide behind a basket of knitting as Arthur walked by.

Molly clutched Charlie to her, his baby hands reaching for the book, trying to turn the page to keep Molly reading, but she was staring at Arthur’s back as he peeked through the peephole in the door. “Who is it, Arthur?” she asked.

He looked confused, “It’s… it’s some young boys…” he said and his brow knit together… then he recognized James, who looked such a lot like Charlus that Arthur’s breath caught up in his throat, “It’s the Potter boy!” He wrenched the door open and looked out at the three boys on the step.

James and Sirius each held up one of Remus’s arms. Remus looked a mess, his eyes dark ringed from the moon and red from crying, skin sallow and pale and marked with all his scars shining silver in the moonlight. Sirius had blood dried on one side of his face, leftover from hitting the pavement when he fell out front of Grimmauld Place and even James looked worn and dirty from the walk.

Without hesitation, greeting or a single word, Arthur stepped back to allow them in and he looked out into the night behind them, closing the door quickly. Molly had Charlie on her hip as she came over from the couch, concern etched in her eyes for this motley collection of run down teenage boys. Arthur looked them over. “James, is it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” James replied, “James Potter. And these are my friends, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.”

Molly reacted poorly at the name Black, her hand cupping Charlie’s head protectively.

“He’s alright, don’t worry, he’s not a blasted thing like his father,” James told her, seeing her instinctive reaction.

Molly’s cheeks reddened.

“My father’s actually what’s happened to us,” Sirius intoned darkly.

Arthur looked at Molly and they had a whole conversation with their eyes. “Come along,” Molly said, handing Charlie off to her husband and wiping her hands on her apron, “I’ll fix us tea and you can tell us what’s happened. You look famished, the lot of you… I have corned beef for sandwiches, come… into the kitchen with the lot of you…” She led the way through the cozy little house.

The kitchen was homey and delightful, with herbs and plants growing out of the thatched ceiling, hanging down. Glass jars and little vases held springs that had been cut across every window sill, and James saw a large tomato plant climbing a trellis nailed to the wall by a backdoor, beside which sat two pairs of children-sized wellingtons, tipped over and caked in dried mud. Molly waved her wand and the fire in stove lit and a tea pot flew to the burner. “Have a seat,” she clucked and waved at the chairs ‘round the table.

Arthur squished the baby into a highchair, though he was asleep so his little head seemed to loll about until he’d leaned it back, his mouth open wide, a couple of tiny teeth showing in his upper gum as he snored, clutching the stuffed dragon still. Tea cups were landing on the table at Molly’s wand’s command as Arthur sat down, and James slid himself onto the bench on one side of the table. Sirius carefully helped Remus sit on the bench opposite before sitting down himself, straddling the bench so that he was facing Remus.

“Are you alright?” he asked lowly.

Remus nodded numbly.

“You’re sure?” When Remus nodded again, and Sirius sat on the bench proper, swinging his second leg over and letting his hand fall from Remus’s back to pick up the tea cup before him, which had just been filled with hot tea from the kettle by Mrs. Weasley. “Thank you,” he said, thickly and sincerely, and he brought the hot tea to his lips, grateful for the warmth of it.

Arthur turned to James, “Does your father know where you are?” he asked, concerned.

James shook his head. “No sir, and I imagine my parents are worried…” he looked guilty. “I… er, well, I sort of snuck out of the house to go and rescue Sirius this afternoon. My mum never would’ve let me go so I… well, I left a note at least.” Molly was looking on, horrified. “Last time, I didn’t leave a note.”

“First thing’s first, then.” She waved her wand, producing a great white orangutan there in the midst of the kitchen. “Tell Fabian to get in touch with the Potters, their son is safe and at the Burrow with his friends.” The orangutan nodded, then turned to a ball of light that zipped out the window and into the night.

Arthur, far more interested in what happened than in getting messages to the Potters, looked about at them, “You say you encountered Orion Black - what happened? Where?”

“It’s my fault, sir,” Sirius volunteered. “It was because of me. They locked me up in my room back home, at Grimmauld Place, where I live. They wouldn’t let me out, see, and I’d told Remus here about it in a letter and he hatched this brilliant plan to get me out. It nearly worked, too, except my brother - stupid Regulus, messing things up as usual - he tripped me, and they found out I was escaping and my father… he attacked us, trying to stop me from going.”

Arthur looked surprised and Molly gasped, sitting abruptly into the chair at the opposite end from her husband. “How did you get away?” she asked, eyes wide. She reached for the hair falling across Remus’s forehead and gently pushed it back, a motherly look of concern filling her features.

“The Lupin’s house elf,” Sirius said thickly, “Tizzy. She saved our lives. She apparated us to the woods just on the other side of the village.”

Arthur asked, “Why don’t you have her apparate the lot of you home?”

“She’s dead,” Remus said thickly, his voice flat, having cried himself too numb to say the words with the right inflections for the things they made him feel.

Molly’s eyes widened, “Dead?”

“He hit her with the killing curse while we were in the process of apparating away,” Remus said thickly. Her magic lasted just long enough to get me here and… and I suppose that’s why the apparition was so rough, she had no control on it. She was already gone.” He stared at the table and Sirius put his arm ‘round his shoulders.

Molly had tears in her eyes, sad for the elf, even without having ever met her. “Oh dear,” she murmured.

Arthur drew a deep breath.

Unsure what else to do, and needing to keep busy to keep herself from crying, Molly jumped up and rushed to the icebox to get the sandwiches she’d promised.

“When we figured out where we were, we walked here because… because we were mates with Bilius when he was at Hogwarts and I knew you know my dad…” James explained. “I’m sorry we just sort of burst in on you so late, but… we didn’t know what else to do.”

“You’re welcome here, of course,” Arthur answered, “I’m very glad you came.” He paused. “You… you lot haven’t seen Bilius lately, have you?”

“He was staying in Hogsmeade back in November,” Sirius replied. “At an inn down the street from the Hogs Head… where he seems to spend most of his time.”

Arthur frowned and ran his finger over the wooden table top with a sigh.

Molly slid plates containing the sandwiches before each one of them and Remus, suddenly ravenous at the scent of the food, devoured his within minutes, having not realized how famished he was before. Sirius ripped his in half and gave half to Remus, and Remus ate that, too. Being in any moonlight too long brought out the wolfish characteristics in him, Sirius noticed, and the burning hunger was quite apparent.

Through the window came a white light that blossomed into a bright white peacock with long feathers that rolled out behind it in a train. “The Potters have been informed and Dora will come for her boy in the morning. She thanks you for your hospitality,” came a voice issuing out of the beak of the patronus. James recognized it - it was Fabian Prewett.

Molly nodded as the peacock evaporated. “Well that’s settled, you’ll stay with us tonight and rest.” She got up, “You’ll need blankets of course…” and she hurried from the room.

The baby gurgled in his high chair and Arthur looked over at Charlie, then back to the three boys around the table. James was just finishing his sandwich and Sirius was draining the end of his teacups. Arthur smiled awkwardly, sympathetically, and he stood up, “I’m sure Molly will be putting you up in the living room… come with me…” He took Charlie up from his chair and showed them out to the comfortable sitting room, where Molly was indeed magicking thick blankets onto two couches and a little cot.

“I know it’s not much,” she said humbly, “But it’s warm and soft and you’ve a roof over your heads and in the morning I’ll be sure you have a hot meal in your bellies.” She waved her wand and stopped the knitting needles in the corner from moving. The gnomes that were still hiding back there ducked low so they wouldn’t be seen.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” said Sirius.

Molly and Arthur left the three boys to settle into their makeshift beds and went up the stairs to their bedroom and as Molly braided her hair over her shoulder and changed into a nightgown, Arthur put Charlie into his crib and they climbed into their bed. “This world is such a terrible place Arthur,” Molly whispered thickly into the dark as Arthur wrapped himself about her, the large spoon, his chin hooked over her shoulder. “It’s just such a horrible thought that we live in a world where a father could try to kill his own son like that. I can’t even imagine… and where was the mother during this?”

“It’s Walburga and Orion Black,” said Arthur, “They’re Death Eaters.”

But they’re also parents,” Molly said thickly. “How could they?”

Arthur shook his head, unable to imagine it putting Charlie or little Bill in the place of Sirius and himself in the place of Orion. His mind wouldn’t even wrap about the idea.

“I am so very lucky to have you, Arty,” whispered Molly, hugging his arm, which he’d put around her tightly, bracing his head with his other arm.

“I love you, Mollywobbles,” he whispered.




There was a tapping poke on Remus’s shoulder, which is what woke him up. His eyes fluttered between sleep and wake for a moment as the world came into focus. He’d had terrible nightmares half the night, spinning images of Tizzy’s limp limbs and Orion Black’s enraged face, punctuated by echos of Sirius’s agonized screams as the cruciatus curse had struck him in the street… They were horrible flashes. But now, the first rays of light were coming through the window, though their glow was immediately blocked by the shape of a young boy with flaming red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose so thick that it was almost like he had one giant freckle, rather than many. Remus blinked at the boy.

“What’s that on your face?” the boy asked in a squeaky little voice, reaching out with his fingertip to touch the scar on Remus’s nose.

Remus blinked at the touch, then, feeling rather hurt by the question (he hated when people pointed out his scars), he reached out a finger and touched the boy’s freckle. “What’s that on your face?” he asked.

“My freckers,” replied the boy.

“And mine’s a scar,” answered Remus.

“Did you fight a dragon?” asked the boy.

Remus remembered the rumor that the boys had spread - what seemed like absolute eons ago, back at the start of last term - and of Sirius singing that silly song… and Remus replied, “Yes.”

“Cool,” breathed the boy, wide eyed.

“William Arthur Weasley!” Molly’s voice hissed from the doorway, “I told you to stay away from those boys and let them sleep! Get. Over. Here.”

“Mummy’s mad, I’ve got to go,” whispered the boy and he got up - he’d been sitting on the edge of the little cot, and he ran off. “Mummy,” Remus heard him telling Molly, “That boy fought a dragon, that’s why he’s got that scar on his nose. I asked him.”

“You asked him that?!” Molly was exasperated, “Bill, love, you can’t just ask people those sorts of things…” she grabbed his wrist and looked apologetically back at Remus, who had sat up.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Weasley,” Remus said thickly, “I would’ve asked, too.”

But she still scolded the boy as she led him away toward the kitchen. “But he doesn’t mind, mummy,” Bill said as they went, “And he asked about my freckers, too…” Their voices faded off.

“Bloody hell is it morning already?” groaned Sirius, stretching on the couch.

James snorted, still asleep.

Remus nodded, “Morning already.” He stared down at his hands. It was breakfast time. He wondered if his father was looking for Tizzy, wondering where she was, trying to figure out how to fend for himself for a meal… His throat ached as he pictured the boxes from the pub chicken he would come home to at the holiday again now…

Sirius was waking James up, having rolled off his couch and gone over to shake James awake. “We need to figure out what to do now,” he said.

“What to do now?” Remus asked, “We wait for Mrs. Potter to get here, of course. She said she was coming to get us, according to Fabian Prewett’s patronus last night.”

“Yes but then she’s going to split us up. She’ll send you home and - and I dunno where I’ll go. Certainly not back to Grimmauld Place, that’s for bloody sure… and there’s some things I need to tell you lot before we get separated again…” Sirius said, wanting to tell them about what he’d overheard Kreacher saying the night before about the Blind Seer, whoever he was. But before he could get into any sort of details, James sat up, yawning, interrupting him, and stretching his arms.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley walked into the room, a plate full of a giant pile of bacon in her one hand, the baby, Charlie, balanced on her hip with the other hand, and the little boy, Bill, clinging to her skirts. “Breakfast in the kitchen, come along while it’s still hot,” she said, and she turned back to the kitchen.

“I’m starved,” admitted Sirius, getting up from where he was kneeling to wake James up as James grabbed his glasses from the arm of the couch, where he’d put them when he’d taken them off the night before. And, all three hungry as only boys can be in the morning, they rushed after the scent of the bacon.