Dreams Are Falling Short

I was curled up on one of the twins’ lap – I had lost track after the copious amounts of times that I had moved between the two. Ginny sat between them, all of us having butterbeer in our hands. There was a burst of fire in midair which illuminated the dirty plate in front of us and, as we gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

“Fawkes!” said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. “That’s not Dumbledore’s writing – it must be a message from your mother – here –“

He thrust the letter into George’s hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: ‘Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.”

George looked around the table.

“Still alive…” he said slowly. “But that makes it sound…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. It sounded to me as well as though Mr Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother’s letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George’s hand and read it for himself, with me reading it as well. When he was done, he looked up at Harry.

If I had ever sat through a longer night than this one, I didn’t remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that we all go to bed, but the Weasley’s and I were all disgusted by the idea, and it was clearly shown on our faces. We mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into the liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to our lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, we would know straightaway, for Molly must long since had arrived at St Mungo’s.

Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; I could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. George was sitting with his arms crossed, eyes intently watching the table. I had my head rested on the nap of Fred’s neck and he fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways so it rested a top of mine.

At ten past five in the morning by Ron’s watch, the kitchen door swung open and Molly entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when we all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron, Harry and I half rising from our chairs, she gave a wan smile.

“He’s going to be all right,” she said, her voice weak with tiredness. “He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now; he’s going to take the morning off work.”

I wanted to get up and hug Molly, to comfort her – but Fred had fallen back into his chair with his hands over his face, and I wrapped my arms around him instead, watching Ginny and George get up, walk swiftly over to their mother and hug her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.

“Breakfast!” said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. “Where’s that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!”

But Kreacher did not answer to summons.

-

Everyone spent the morning sleeping. I went up to the bedroom I shared with the twins, where I mutely asked them both to cuddle up with me. The stress and graveness of the situation left me feeling vulnerable, and I needed to know I’d be safe when I was sleeping. We squished onto one of the double beds and I fell asleep easily.

Our trunks arrived from Hogwarts while we were eating lunch, so we could dress as Muggles for the trip to St Mungo’s. Everybody was riotously happy and talkative as we changed out of hour robes into jeans and sweatshirts. When Tonks and Mad-Eye turned up to escort us across London, we greeted them gleefully, laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the Underground.

We got of the rattling train in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train I found myself trying to keep stride with the twins, and failing miserably. Instead, I fell back a bit and walked beside Harry. We didn’t need to talk, instead Harry just grabbed my hand, and that gave us both comfort enough.

We followed Tonks up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand. I felt Harry become uncomfortable suddenly, almost as if he too could feel Moody watching him with his concealed eye. I gave his hand a small squeeze, and he smiled at me.