Weasley Patriarch

I stand in the receiving line next to Molly,  my arm tightly around her waist.  "Our little boy is a husband and soon father.  With all that he's done that I'm proud of him for, and all that he did because it had to be done,  I still regret that he lost out on so much time to just be a kid and have fun. He must not regret it though, if he's in such a hurry to take on the full responsibility of an adult and support a family.  He's racing right ahead of Charlie, Percy, and the twins.  I glance over at Charlie.  He's not as happy as he's pretending to be.

"Molly,  Mollywobbles,"  I whisper in her ear.  "I'm proud of our two youngest, but we seemed to have skipped a few.  Let's see what we can do to make them smile the way Ron is."

Once again I program the text message to disappear after one read only.  I tap it with my wand. "The Living Years"  starts to play.   I suppose that's as good a song as any.

Text message:  *Twice eleven and you may see me or maybe not.  Look closely.  Listen closely. *


Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door . . . 

Merlin,  I hope that I haven't sent all my problems to them.  I hope they understand the message.  I hate this.


 

I haven’t seen Percy.  I was relieved at first—his pompous smirk haunts me as a father, making me wonder what I could have done better.  But his absence is no longer a relief:  he’s missing.  Now I’m worried, very worried.

I glance at the ring that I cannot remove from my little finger--hmmmn,  maybe . . .   I go to find Zemelda Smith.  Surely this membership in the Order has to mean more than secrecy, a fatter vault at Gringotts, and working on making magic muggle elckletronic devices for the good of all—Umbridge be damned. 

“Yes, Arthur?”  Her smile is so cloying, so deliberate—she may be more attractive than Umbridge, but she’s every bit as manipulative.

“I’m worried about my son, Percy.  You know he’s disappeared.  It finally came out in the Prophet today. I was thinking the Order could help me find him.”  I watch as her smile turns into a full smirk.

“Arthur?  You remember how when we recruited you, you had your choice of joining us or being Obliviated?  We gave Percy the same choice.  He refused to help us fight Umbridge.  He made enough of a disturbance that he was Obliviated immediately.  I can assure you that he is quite healthy.  However, although he still has power, he doesn’t remember he’s a wizard, or a Weasley, for that matter.  He’s been safely reassigned as a Muggle.”

Cold fury fills me, and I raise my wand to Zemelda. “You!  How dare you! You rotten, evil piece of sneering dung!  Where is my son?”

“Be careful, Arthur.”  She gives an oily smile. “You’re one of us.  And there are so many Weasleys to choose from to make you behave.  Especially that dear little wife of yours.”

Oh my god, Molly!  “Stay away from my family.  You’ve got me—do what you want with me, but stay away from my family,” I say through clenched teeth.  In my mind I’m running each member through my head—Bill, Charlie, and the twins are all tough enough and magically skilled enough to fend for themselves.  Ron is one of the three that saved the wizarding world.  Harry will watch out for Ginny.  I need to warn them though: to be careful, to watch their backs.  I’ve got to get Molly away. I can come back and fight the Order once I know she’s safe.

Zemelda is watching me while these thoughts race through my head.  “We have no doubt of your loyalty, Arthur.  You understand us well. Now, how is your little project coming along?”

“Well.  I’ll be able to report to you on it within another month,” I reply tersely. I’ve never wanted to slap a woman as much as I want to slap Smith right now.  “If you’ll excuse me, I have some investigating to complete.  I am the head of Magical Law Enforcement, you recall.”

She smirks at me as I hurry away.  

I head straight to Gringotts and to our vault.  I look at the vast number of galleons the Weasley vault has accumulated since I joined the Order of Light—there must be 30,000 galleons here.  Well, they certainly pay well—but it’s too high a price.  I just wish I could get this damned ring off—I’m beginning to understand that this ring is my key to hell. But if I hadn’t agreed?  Would I be lost to my family?  Lost to myself?  Lost to my magic?  That’s where Percy is.  Maybe hell is better. 

I take all of the galleons and shrink them to fit into a small sack, which I place in my pocket. Each galleon is no bigger than a lentil, but the sack is still heavy. I look at the vault.  Maybe this would be the best place to leave the warning.  I put my quill to parchment.

Dear Bill,

I’ve taken your mum on vacation—farther away and for longer than you and your brothers intended.  I don’t know when we’ll be back.  I’ll try to send you an owl periodically. Be assured we’ll be safe.  Your mum will be safe.  We love you.  Give all of the family our love. Tell them not to worry about us. 

I know how to take care of us.  I must ask you all to watch your backs.  You all have the skills necessary to keep out of trouble.  Please use them.  Tell Harry to watch out for your little sister, please.  Ginny is very talented, but she’s in no condition to have further worries placed on her head.

I have had word of Percy.  He’s alive and unharmed physically, but it will do us no good to find him.  Yes, Bill, this is linked to why I must take your mother away. God help me.

Love,

Father

I leave the note in the vault. I seal it with the Weasley seal, casting a charm on it so only the family motto will open it.  Bill will find it.

I head to the Burrow to get the tickets the boys gave me for my birthday, and give Molly a little surprise.  Hopefully I can get her far away before I have to tell her that we’re going into hiding.

I walk into my office and notice a very old piece of parchment on my desk. It wasn’t there before.  I pick it up.  Before I have a chance to think, I feel the familiar pulling by the navel as I’m whisked away.  Damn it!  I should have known better than to trust something I didn’t put there myself.  I come to my feet somewhere very dark.  From the smells and the damp coolness, I gather I’m in a cave.

Dear Ginny--I go to write a return answer, but all I can think is my little girl is still hurting.  She doesn't know how much I care.  I've tried.  How can she not know?

I feel the now familiar tightness starting in my chest.  I go to reach for the vial in my pocket,  only to realize my cardigan is in my tool shed.  
I steady myself.  Just breathe slow.  Don't panic.  

I hear Molly come in.  I say softly,  "Molly,  we have a letter."   I hand it to her.

She looks at me questioningly as she takes it from my hand and I can see a small twitch in her face when she sees who it's from. I watch her face as she reads in silence and suddenly she gasps and covers her mouth, tears coming quickly to her eyes.

When she has finished, she hands it back to me and covers her face, tears dripping through her fingers.

 "Molly." I stand up and put my arms around her. "She needs us." 

The tightness in my chest is getting worse.  I pat where my cardigan pocket usually is.  I can't believe I left it in my shed.  Molly needs me.  Ginny needs me.  Stay strong. 

:"Oh Arthur," she sobs, her voice muffled in her hands. "I'm such a terrible mother! Why couldn't I just be supportive? Why did I have to be selfish? Why...why did I let it hurt this much!"

 I hold her tightly.  "You're not a terrible mother.  You were disappointed.  Obviously you wanted to do all the things with your daughter's wedding that you didn't get to do with your own.  I never should have talked you into eloping.  This is my fault, Molly."  

Need more air.  I've got to make this look normal.  I take Molly by the waist and guide her to the bed.  We sit down together. I put my head down on my hands for just a moment. 

"Molly,  what's important is that we show her our support now,"  I say very quietly. "We can blame ourselves later."

 She takes her hands from her face and wipes her cheeks with her sleeves. "We are parents," she says. "We just want what's best for them, but sometimes they kn...Arthur?"

I feel her hands on my shoulder, shaking me very gently. "Arthur, is something..."

"Molly,  it's not a big thing,  but I need to get my cardigan from the shed."  I go to stand up,  but it takes too much effort.  My head starts swimming. Well, this is it.  I've got to tell her. "Would you get it please?  There's something I need in the pocket."

 My breathing is becoming more laboured and shallow.

 She presses me down to lay on the bed and places a hand on my forehead. "Sweetheart, your lips are turning blue!" she says, her hands tightening on my shoulders. "Arthur, what's wrong!"

 "I'll explain after I take my drops,"  I whisper.  "I need them right away. Please."

:Her eyes widen and she she pauses only an instant to kiss my cheek before racing out the door.

Molly thinks I'm going to the office early this morning.  What she doesn't know won't worry her. I'm careful not to look at Molly's eyes directly. But I can look at her nose,  her forehead, her mouth .  .  . I eat breakfast quickly, give Molly a kiss, and hurry out the door, Apparating from outside.  

The lobby of St. Mungo's is starched, white, and antiseptic.  In my investigations,  I went into a Muggle hospital a few weeks ago.  It was in warm colors and friendly.  It still smelled rather antiseptic, but it was much better than this.  There is so much we could learn from Muggles, bless them, if we would just stop believing we are better than them because we're magic and they aren't.  They've had to use their brains.  Most of us are so busy waving our wands, we forget we have a brain we can use.  

I check in at the front desk. "Arthur Weasley, to see Healer Salk for a check up."

"Of course, Mr. Weasley.  Go right up.  He's waiting for you."

"Arthur!  To what do I owe this visit.  Usually you don't come in to see me until your birthday--and that's what,  a month away? You're early."  

"Maybe I shouldn't have come.  It's probably nothing. Just a little less energy, less enthusiasm for things. Not feeling myself.  But I wanted to make sure it wasn't anything bad.  My family needs me."

"You might  just be a little depressed.  Let's check you out." The healer taps and prods and looks and listens. "Does your chest hurt?"  he asks.

Damn.  This is what I'm afraid of--so afraid I didn't mention the symptom before.  I'm going to leave Molly a widow.  "A little tightness.  That's all.  Is my heart all right?"

"Your heart is fine Arthur.  But your lungs aren't up to full capacity.  Just a slight restriction in the airways.  Nothing serious, I'd say.  Still,  I've never noticed it before when you've come in for your check-ups..  Have you been under a lot of stress?  Things going all right at home?  At work?  With the wife?"  He looks at me intently.

"Family's fine." (other than Percy)  "Work is busy."  (just not fulfilling)  "Molly is wonderful." (at least that part is the absolute truth)."  Maybe I should be a bit more forthright.  "I got a promotion at work and I hate the job.  But my old job's gone.  I'm looking for a new job and trying to make this one work in the meanwhile.  Percy is still estranged from the rest of us.  Other than that,  things are fine."

"Well, I think you're having more stress than you're letting on. During a stressful situation, the brain signals the release of stress hormones. These chemical substances trigger a series of responses that give the body extra energy: blood-sugar levels rise, the heartbeat speeds up and blood pressure increases. The muscles tense for action. The blood supply is diverted away from the gut to the extremities to help the body deal with the situation at hand. Too much emotional stress can cause physical illness. And I'm certain  this reactive airway problem is brought on by it.  Use this potion whenever you feel that tightness.  But be careful only to use a few drops,  It can make your heart race." The healer hands me a vial. 

He went on lecturing me. "When stress occurs, it is important to recognize and deal with it. Here are some suggestions for ways to handle stress."  He hands me a pamphlet. " As you begin to understand more about how stress affects you as an individual, you will come up with your own ideas on how to ease the tension. Spend time with friends,  participate in a sport,  take up meditation,  find another hobby.  Arthur,  you've got to find a way to deal with this before it gets worse. Come back and see me sooner if it gets worse, in three months if it isn't worse.  Then you can tell me how you're doing."

I nod.  He's serious.  "Thank you, Healer Salk. I'll let you know."

I think about what he said on the way to the office, but there really isn't much I can do.  I slip the vial into my pocket.


ooc:
citation:

http://www.healthscout.com/ency/68/103/main.html#SelfCare