Molded Joy

7 - A Mother Made

The light shining in from the window was no longer welcoming, but an irritant to her eyes from where she was sitting at the kitchen table with her husband and Dumbledore. Cups of untouched tea sitting in front of them, no one said anything at first. It was too hard to find words when, yet again, Molly's world had been rocked to its core. Another friend was gone and the only hope Molly had now was that this would the last one. Just like Lily, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was also dead. When this story was passed to the press (if Dumbledore hadn't already, anyway), magical Britain and beyond would be rejoicing at the return of peace and safety.

But Molly? She, for what felt like the thousandth time, would be mourning the deaths of those dear to her.

Finally, Arthur, after a long, drawn out sigh, asked "All of them? James, Lily and Harry?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry survived," he replied.

Gasping with surprise, Molly reached for her husband's hand. She tried to say something to express her disbelief at this, but found herself incapable of anything but happy squeaking and tears. Running his thumb in soothing circles on the back of her hand, Arthur spoke for her once again. "How? I thought you said You-Know-Who used the killing curses on them."

"That's the strange part, Lily seems to have evoked some sort of protective magic in the process of trying to save Harry from Voldemort."

Flinching at the despicable name, Molly inquired, "Where is he then? I thought you said Peter was dead, Sirius on his way to Azkaban and Remus… He's out of country? So, where does that leave Harry? Is he at Hogwarts?"

Nodding along to her listing off of their locations, Dumbledore paused at her guess to Harry's location and shook his head. Waiting for him to give the baby's real location, Molly's frayed nerves could hardly take it. She might have even started crying in earnest or screaming if it weren't for the fact her dear, dear, Arthur kissed the back of her hand. Looking to him, she was calmed by the way his eyes mirrored her own pains. He hadn't been close to Lily, but he knew her death hurt her deeply, nearly as much as the deaths of the twins had.

"Harry was left with his aunt last night, he'll be–"

"What!" Molly gasped, cutting off Dumbledore entirely. "His aunt? You mean you left poor, little Harry with Petunia?"

Blinking, the old man started, "Yes, well, she is family and there's the matter of wards–"

"She hated Lily! Merlin's name, Albus! It's like putting the boy in a viper's pit!"

"Come now, surely Petunia wouldn't be so spiteful to a little boy…" Dumbledore said in the most soothing, placating tone that he could.

"You obviously know nothing," Molly declared in a low, dangerous tone. "You know nothing about that woman, about that family besides the fact they are related to Lily." Pushing herself up from her chair with shaking, rage-filled arms she hissed at Dumbledore, "Giving him to family might keep him safer, but he will grow up despised for nothing more than being a wizard. In the end, that's really not safe is it? Who knows how that will unhinge the boy and what kind of menace he could grow up to be because of it!"

Frowning, the old man took off his glasses and began to clean them as he eyed the irate woman carefully. "He'll grow up safe, with family, and away from the public eye, surely you see that it's the best option we have?"

"There are hundreds who'd take him in! And at least half of those would do it out of the good of their hearts! Another half would have known his parents to some degree and out of those, there ought to be at least one suitable family who would have the resources, know-how and temperaments to be good surrogate parents to a little boy!" Molly countered loudly and viciously.