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Molly Weasley was tired. She had been working since morning non-stop and it was almost evening. Her bones were screaming for some rest and her muscles were close to giving up at any moment. But she couldn't. She still had to look for her son. In hindsight, maybe this wasn't the best idea.
It was summertime and she knew the kids were frustrated with being cooped up in the house, and they lit it known to her with one or the other muttering it just loud enough for her to hear whenever they were close. It wouldn't have been that difficult if their home wasn't so small and her kids so many. That's not to say that she didn't love them; her home and her kids. But sometimes they drove her mad.
It was easier since Bill and Percy had summer jobs and Ginny and Ron were invited to the Lovegoods every evening and Charlie had convinced Mr. Kips to let the twins assist him in his summer job—he mentioned the beautiful little orchard requiring extra attention and the dear old man loved his plants too much to argue. Now if only she could find her son!
While the kids had these activities planned, to her absolute horror, they were all planned for late afternoon- even her older flocks' summer job! So after an early morning involving cleaning the house, de-gnoming the garden, breakfast, laundry, lunch, cleaning up the kitchen, in no particular order, her kids still had too much energy and no way to let it out. Molly had learned early on that such a combination was lethal in a muggle household and adding magic in the mix did not work in her favor. She knew she had to do something to distract them and so, in a momentary lapse of judgement she has now come to regret, she suggested playing hide and seek. And thus the game had begun.
The only problem was that Weasleys were competitive and this game was full of them. And that the twins were involved. Naturally, new rules were added. The game doesn't end until the seeker found them all and hider could not be called out forcefully—she had agreed to it like everyone else. Their house was small and magic was not allowed, how long would it take to find her noisy kids? She really should not have asked that question.
Afternoon was almost gone and she knew the sun would be setting soon and she still hadn't found everyone.
Bill was easiest to find and the first one she focused on. As the eldest child in a financially challenged household with numerous members, Bill had always been the more responsible one and thus the most predictable. What he desired most was a chance to get away and she wasn't worried about it for she knew it didn't mean anything in terms of family. Bill had always been the goody-two-shoes-rule-breaker kind. He challenged norms while fitting into the society as a model citizen. She knew he would not be in the house and so had walked out instantly. She knew it was against rules for hiders, even those who were found, to help the seeker but she knew he would be there for her if she asked. There was also the fact that she was so used to him that she feared being away from him. He was her first child, the one who made her a mother. Sometimes, even after all these years and many other kids, she still felt the anxiety of being an inexperienced mom with a newborn in her arms, afraid to even breathe wrong lest it hurt the child. But Bill had grown up, she had done a fine job she believed, and had become his own person. While Molly might still need all her children close to her, she knew Bill chased something else. A place near sand and ocean breeze. She had found him in a bush near the pond in the vicinity of their house. She almost berated him for going so far but she knew he was old enough to take care of himself. And she had a feeling this was the closest he could have been what with his thirst for the unknown.
Next was Ginny. It was motherly instincts which made her look for Ginny next. She was the youngest, she was her only daughter and the only female Weasley in such a long time—Molly knew she was overprotective of her seventh child. And that was saying something for she had always denied allegations of being overbearing and countered it with claims of motherly love and worry. She found Ginny hidden near Hogwarts trunks surrounded by books and brooms. She knew she would be there—Ginny never lost an opportunity to be closer to her dream place no matter the occasion. Molly knew her little girl already considered Hogwarts her home and awaited her life there more than anything else. Looking at the young girl who put a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles, still believing herself to be invisible if her eyes were closed, Molly prayed to anyone who heard that her angel's innocence be preserved forever. As she made her way to the kitchen, where she had seated Bill, she smiled at Ginny's ramblings of meeting the boy of her dreams and attending the school of her dreams. She hid a grin from her youngest charge knowing she was too young to do the math and figure out that both those dreams would be fulfilled together.
George followed soon. He was the quietest of her children which always surprised anyone she told so. But she knew George was only over the top when with his other half, feeling too alone other times and thus running from attention. She thought it was rational and made perfect sense, the yin yang of the twins' bond. Also, she knew not to mistake his quiet for innocence—who says noise always precedes chaos? Isn't silence before the storm the most quoted muggle reference in wizarding life; she would always ask anyone who thought her assessment of her kids was inaccurate. This time, he was in the small abandoned shed in the woods behind their home—the place where the twins planned and plotted for all their mischief and thought she didn't know about. Even after finding George, she had spent ten minutes in and around the shed before giving up. It was unnerving—seeing only one of the twins. She had left that place soon after, turning back only once to glance at the shed which had separated her twins. She vowed to never let her eyes fall on that ominous place ever again—she didn't like the world where her George stood alone; not even for a game.
Percy was the one that made her cry first. He had not hidden, not exactly. He sat in his room, on his desk, writing something or the other. She had seen him on her way back with George and called for him—happy to have found at least one with such ease. But he had not responded, not even reacted to her voice. She had shouted herself hoarse, calling for him to come back to her, back in her arms, but he didn't listen. She had stormed into the house, raced up the steps with her lungs protesting all along, burst into his room. He had jumped up then and ran to her begging for forgiveness. She wiped her tears away, happy that he had come back when it mattered most, already forgiving him. How could she hold it against him at such a time like this? He had only been working—she had always stressed on the importance of careers, and he had come back. He came back and Molly accepted him with arms wide open.
Charlie was next on the list. She was anxious by the time she found him and tired too but she didn't notice that yet. He had hid farthest away, in the back woods closest to the wild lands that lay beyond. She had her heart in her hand imagining one scenario after another of her precious little boy amongst the creature even the most powerful wizards were wary of. Seeing him petting a gorgeous crimson baby bird did nothing to ease her worries when the latest scene conjured by her brain was of her son amidst flames as red as his hair. She had almost shrieked and then taken him home, her hand wrapped tightly around his arm. He had fought, his limbs flailing, demanding to go back to his birds. Even as she made him sit on the kitchen table, she knew from his eyes he had only come back for a short while and would leave soon again. He was like the birds he so loved in a way, she would have mused had her focus not been on making him stay put and not letting him out of her sight for as long as possible, leaving the nest early and never coming back.
She didn't want to leave the kitchen, her eyes roaming over one piece of her heart to another, but she left anyway. How could she not when pieces of her heart were still waiting to be found. Though the tears that had fallen for Percy had long dried, she could feel new ones coming. Up until now, she had listened to the tune of her heart to find her other kids and they had been where her heart had taken her. Sure there were some difficulties and the path seemed scarier with each kid but she had traveled with a brave heart and she had found her treasure every time. But somehow, this was not working for her remaining children.
She had looked everywhere outside but the garden for she knew there was nowhere to hide in there. She had searched the pantry and the kitchen and the living room. She looked in the fireplace and the laundry room. She went up the stairs and looked in her own room and then Bill's and Charlie's. She looked in the bathrooms and then went further upwards. She checked in Percy's room and the twins' room and then double checked the twins' room—she was getting frantic now. She looked into Ginny's rooms and all the bathrooms and then stood in front of Ron's door.
There was a hollow pit in her stomach and she knew her hair was frazzled and wild. The tears were gone however and were replaced with rage. Here she was, out of her mind with worry, and Ron had the nerve to snore like there's no tomorrow? She burst into the room, her rant freezing at her lips at the scene in front of her. She fell, her knees shaking too much to bear her weight. There, on her youngest son's bed, lay the ghoul of the attic. What was it doing here and where was her son? She stood there frozen, the groans of the ghoul quiet when compared to her beating heart. It was only when the thought struck her mind that it started to work, the wheels turning in sync with the rattling of the creature. If he was here, where was Ron? And then the answer struck her like lightening, giving her legs enough strength to dash up once again. She ran into the attic without pause and cried in relief. There, battered and pale stood her Ron. There were bruises on his body and dark circles under his eyes and he looked taller and exhausted—but he was her Ron and he was grinning at her and she knew everything was okay.
She hurried downstairs and was greeted with a cacophony of requests. It took her five minutes but she finally realized what was happening and dealt with situation as effectively as possible. They all had plans and they were late for them. Bill and Percy had left for their jobs and Ron and Ginny went to their neighbors. After some hesitation, she sent Charlie and George on their way saying she'll send Fred right away. And so here she was, half an hour to sunset with one of her kids still missing.
She checked all the rooms and bathrooms again. She paused at the twins' doorway on her way out after what was her fifth thorough search, she thought something was different but she couldn't pinpoint it. Then, realization struck her like a spell straight to the heart; half of the twins' room looked untouched—unlived even. But how was that possible, she thought to herself. She didn't know which of two owned that side; such was their habit of sharing everything. Then how could one half of the room look so lively and the other so… so cold?
By now, her heart had decided to ride the firebolt at its top speed. She too tried to mirror its speed, almost flying to kitchen. Maybe that wasn't the best decision for the moment her eyes landed on the clock the firebolt vanished and her heart fell to her stomach. The clock had been the last gift she had from her brothers and was her most prized possession. She knew in case of any emergency, the only thing she would risk her life for would be that clock—she had imagined various scenarios to know that for sure. An active imagination in the middle of war was not the best trait a mother of a large family could possess but she had survived, somehow.
The hands of the clock, everyone one of them carved with names of one of her family members and their photo, showed where they were. While other hands showed travelling or work or home, one of them showed lost. A heartbreaking sob left her before she took a deep breath in. It was getting dark and she needed to find her little baby before it was too late.
"Fred, Fred where are you?" She roamed the house again, her voice varying in tones—dipped in concern and dripping with ache.
"Come on out Fred. The game is over that is enough of hide and seek." It took a conscious effort for her to keep breathing now.
"Come and see—your Mum is frozen now. It's probably one of your pranks isn't it?" She swallowed her distress. Trying to sound as normal as possible, she left the house to look for him in the backyard.
"I've been looking for you all over. You have found the best place to hide love; you are now the champion of the game. Come and we'll celebrate with your favorite dishes." She stuttered again and again and she felt disgusted at herself. What kind of a mother scares her children because she is such a mess? And what kind of a mother loses her child?
"I'm tired now Freddie. Mum can't walk as fast as before. Would you help Mum a little, bring her a chair?" She was openly sobbing now. He was nowhere near the chicken coup and now she delved into woods. Tears were still held at bay for the visibility was already low as evening fell and crying would just make it worse.
"It's almost night my dear boy. I'm so scared. Mum is scared Freddie. Will you not hold my hand?" She had scoured the woods and there was no sign of him. Her knees were buckling and her hands were shaking. "Fred? Come back Fred! Please, I am begging you. Come back to me."
Her voice died as she heard clattering coming from the house. She ran towards the open backdoor, almost falling several times before she actually did. Her fall was cut midway by strong hands and she looked up at the face of the love of her life.
"Arthur, my love, I can't find him. I've looked for him everywhere, I can't find him. Help me Artie." She tried to say it as coherently as she could but the dam was close to breaking, she was close to breaking.
"Molly what happened? Who's lost Molly, what are you talking about?" There was concern in his voice and something else—something much deeper than anxiety but she had no time to figure out this puzzle.
"Freddie! I lost Freddie. We were playing hide and seek and he'd hidden so well, he's always been so good at these things. But he's too good now. I can't find him. I've looked everywhere. Where is he Artie? Find him." She fled his arms to look for her son again but paused when he didn't follow her. What is wrong with him? Why isn't he moving, there's not a second to waste! She whirled around, her temper flaring. "What are you doing? It's getting dark and Fred is out there somewhere and you are just standing there!" She prodded his chest with her fingers, willing him to move. He took her fingers and wrapped her hands in his hands. She looked up at him with desperation in her eyes.
"I know where he is Molly." His voice was quiet and soft and distressed. Her face lit up at those words.
"Oh thank Merlin. You are better at these patience games than me; I have been going mental looking for him. Come quick, he must be so scared and so hungry by now." She heard him sigh and then he took her hand. She let him direct her through the back door, across the house, past the front door and into the front yard. She started to protest when he turned towards the garden; didn't he know there's nowhere to hide? However, he walked confidently so she put her trust in him. She also remembered how Fred loved the rose-bed, always plucking the buds because he was too impatient to wait for them to bloom. He would then gift them to her or, after she was born, Ginny with a goofy grin. She almost face palmed herself, of course he'd be in the garden. It had been too many days since received a flower from him and he must have decided to rectify it today.
Arthur however walked past the rose-bed and Molly sent him a questioning glance. He only responded with a small smile. So maybe he wasn't in the garden, no worries. Artie knew where he was going. She looked back at the rose bushes—it had never seemed so flowery before. It's been too long since Fred nicked a bud then, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. She turned when her husband stopped and looked up to the first tree she had planted in her home. It was a beautiful willow tree charmed to bloom all year round.
"Arthur?" She stared up at the tree, willing a red haired boy to emerge from it. She felt a tug on her arm and looked down at the contact. She followed the hand on her arm to the body it belonged, taking her time to look at the weathered face shining with something that couldn't be further from joy. "Artie?" Her voice cracked at the grief in his eyes and she started shivering, feeling cold seep in her bones in mid-summer.
"Look near the base love." There was no mistaking this time, she knew this voice. She knew what it meant. She had heard it before. She couldn't listen to this voice.
"No, you are lying." It was a fact; it was a request.
"Molly, please. Just look down."
"I won't. You are wrong, I won't." She closed her eyes, squeezing it shut.
"I am begging you Molls. Don't do this to yourself, don't do this to me. Just look, do it for me." He was shaking her now but her world was frozen in place.
It was a block of ice no one could break.
"Do this for your kids."
Except him; he knew her too well. He had always known her too well, her weaknesses ad her fears. She opened her eyes though her soul screamed in protest. She looked at the face of the man who had showered her with every kind of joy she could have wished for. And right now all those eyes wished for was her to look down. She could do that for him.
With a trembling nod, she turned her eyes away from his warm blue ones and was met with brown and green and grey. There at the base of the tree, snuggled between brown old roots and green blades of fresh grass, stood a beautiful weather worn grey slab of stone. It was carved in various places forming words and numbers and what looked like bursting fireworks. Her eyes were stuck on one word, a name she had spent months choosing—a name she had uttered with exasperation and love and everything in between. A name she had been calling out for the last ten minutes, her heart getting heavier with each passing second.
Fred
An anguished wail left her and resounded in the place she called home. She wondered how the walls she had so lovingly built could take in such heartbreak and still stand. She fell to her knees and waited for the world to crumble down with her. Her gut wrenching sobs tore her husband's heart but she didn't care. Her eyes never left the word, memorizing every cut it the stone, willing it to etch in her heart.
A hand snaked around her and she whimpered—it wasn't Fred's. It would never be Fred's. The world could burn right now and all Molly Weasley would do was add more fuel. She felt her face being turned and she looked at Arthur, balding and thin. He had been like that for a long time but there was a difference that she could now notice. His face was exhausted and his eyes haunted. The fading sun highlighted the faint twitch of his lips and she wondered if it was a smile or frown. It died too quickly for her to ascertain.
"The game is over Molly. He won; it's been seven years since then." He paused, startled to see a smile on his wife's face.
"He'd be ecstatic to be the reigning champion for seven years continuously." She sniffled at the end but the smile grew the more she thought about it. So lost she was in her own world, a beautiful world where she had made Fred's favorite delicacies while he danced around her regaling her with one of his adventurous tales, she didn't notice being guided back to The Burrow.
She looked up when she passed the clock by the kitchen noticing the two additional hands for the first time. She smiled seeing almost everyone was home.
Fred Weasley's hand was at lost but she didn't worry about that. She let her husband guide her to their bedroom. Fred loved to play Hide and Seek and she'd play it until he was ready to come from where he hid. For now, she dutifully took her sleeping potion and giggled when Arthur tucked her in. As she felt her eyes drop, she saw her little boy all grown up and winking at her from a corner of the room. She shook her finger at him, trying to hide her smile.
"I'll find you soon." With that, Molly Weasley fell asleep.
Somewhere far, far away a young boy wrote in his diary detailing all the wonderful things that had happened to him today. He'd written in this diary religiously for the last seven years and he'd do it for a long time. He knew his mother would demand to know all about his adventures and he wouldn't miss a single thing.
The game of Hide and Seek would go on for a long time.