Chapter Text
“Molly, my dear.” Dumbledore rises from his desk, clasps her hands, and looks at her with the most reassuring pair of blue eyes she knows save Arthur’s. For an instant, she can imagine she has never left Hogwarts, and the most dire predicament facing her is how to explain another detention to her parents. Then he speaks. “My condolences on your loss.”
She swallows. “Thank you, Headmaster.”
“Please, call me Albus.” He waves aside her protests with a gesture indicating she should sit, and sinks back into his own chair. “How are Arthur and the little ones? Or not so little, in young William’s case. I look forward to meeting him soon.”
“Yes, he’s very excited.” An excitement she has encouraged, as it distracts him from asking questions about his uncles. Charlie’s nightmares, alas, are more resistant, as is Percy’s sullenness and the twins’ determination to honor their namesakes by causing trouble. “Everyone is doing as well as can be expected.”
“As well as can be hoped for under the circumstances.” When she declines his offer of a sherbert lemon, he sighs and folds his hands. “You’re not here to discuss school supplies, I assume.”
“No.” Bill, unfortunately, is not the only one who cannot leave uncomfortable questions alone. She takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. “Fabian and Gideon’s death wasn’t random, was it?”
His usual twinkle, already faded, dims further. “No.”
She squares her shoulders. “What can I do to help?”
All traces of the kindly Headmaster she knows vanish from his expression, leaving only the man who defeated Grindelwald. The only man who can defeat You Know Who. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Arthur and I have talked it over…” she starts to object.
“I’m sure you have. But so have my colleagues.” He looks tired suddenly, which scares her more than the battle glower. “You are familiar with the murder of Edgar Bones and his family?”
She nods, her hand coming to rest on her stomach as she senses where the conversation is headed.
His eyes narrow as he tracks the movement. “Those deaths were not random, either. And they nearly destroyed us all. I will not say what happened drove Fabian and Gideon to unnecessary risks, for their work was of vital importance. But from what I saw of them in those last days, it had been far too long since they last slept. Or laughed.” A tear slides down his cheek, as though this, too, is a tragedy beyond comprehension. “If you want to help, Molly, go home. Raise your boys to be the men their uncles were. Preserve their innocence as best you can.”
A traitorous feeling of relief overwhelms her guilt and indignation, which in turn gives way to resignation. She has her answer. There is nothing she can do but rise and shake his hand. “I still wish I could do more.”
“Ah, my dear.” Dumbledore shakes his head with a small, sad smile. “Yours, I fear, is by far the harder task.”