Molded Joy

Epilogue

Ten Years & Ten Months Later

"Ma, where's Mimi? She said she'd come to say goodbye!"

"Ma, do you really think I'll be in Gryffindor?"

"Oh, look, Molly, there's Gwendolyn, Mark and their children. Do you think we should go say hello? Their son Devin and Harry are just a year apart…"

Failing to make heads or tails of what anyone in her family was saying, Molly threw up her hands in exasperation. "One thing at a time!" she chided. "I can't understand you lot when you all speak at once."

The three managed to look sheepish as they glanced between one another, deciding on who should speak first. Arthur nodded at the boys, bowing out as a staring contest began between Junior and Harry. In a show of underhandedness that hadn't been seen since Christmas Eve dinner of '88, Harry gasped and pointed at something behind Junior, causing the older (and far too gullible) boy to swerve around to look.

Grinning widely, Harry turned to Molly and asked, "Ma, do you think I'll be sorted into Gryffindor?"

Molly bit her lip. They were on this again? "Of course you will be, love," she said with the same confidence she'd used every time she assured Harry he would be sorted exactly where he was meant to be.

"Really?" Junior broke in, wearing a sneer. "That trick there wasn't very Gryffindor-like."

The bit of relief that had begun to bring a smile to Harry's face quickly faded as he turned on his brother and socked him in the arm. "Take that back! Mimi was the one who taught me how to do that and she was in Gryffindor!"

"Harry James Weasley!" Molly shrilled, grabbing her son by his ear and dragging him over to her side. "We do not hit our brothers!"

"He deserved it!" Harry protested as he slipped out of her hold.

Molly just shook her head. "Honestly, boys, when will you grow up? You're fifteen and eleven!"

Still rubbing at his arm, Junior said, "You know, Harry, Mimi might have taught you that, but she's also working in the Werewolf Registry Office. If that's not bravery, I don't know what is."

"Hush, Junior," Arthur scolded. "Werewolves are no more dangerous than you or me when it's not the night of the full moon."

Junior's lower lip puckered outward as he fell into a sulk. Even though Arthur made a good point, Molly couldn't help but agree with Junior's feelings about working with werewolves. Yes, werewolves were usually safe when it wasn't the night of the full moon, but that didn't mean they couldn't do something to you still. Even in these modern times, research on whether being attacked by a werewolf in their human form would turn you into one or not was still inconclusive. Some insisted you'd become as full-fledged a monster as the werewolf who attacked you while others argued it'd do little to you beyond giving you a few wolfish tendencies, like having insomnia on the night of the full moon.

Since Molly had never talked lycanthropy symptoms with any wizards or witches who'd been attacked by a werewolf while said werewolf was in their human form, she was inclined to be leery of werewolves no matter what time of the month.

"Ma, how do you know I'll be in Gryffindor?" Harry asked.

Taking a deep breath, Molly was prepared to repeat the same speech she had been giving Harry all week when, from behind, a familiar, throaty voice declared, "Because you kicked You-know-Who's arse when you were just a baby."