Writing this together. We figure our journal's accustomed to more than one quill making entries.
Fred and George: Dinner was a little more haphazard than usual, but who cares? We're bloody well leaving the dishes unwashed tonight, out of a spirit of rebellion. But there is apple pie, and the four of us are sitting around on the couches in the living room, wrapped up in the afghans Mum's knit for us, and for once, we're not hearing any scolding about letting the crumbs fall into the couch cushions.
Right. So in the spirit of family pulling all together when facing Interesting Challenges, we're writing together this as an All-Weasley entry. Or anyway, All-Weasleys-at-the-Burrow entry. We're sure Charlie and Ron would join in if they were here. Hey, there's plenty of pie. Ginny doesn't know the behind-the-scenes (Order-related) reasons of what's going on and why Mum and Fred and George are launching these businesses, but from what Ron's said, she wasn't too pleased with her last encounter with Percy in the journals. So we figure she's pretty much on our side.
Then there's Percy. Given what he did today, we don't expect to see him around the Burrow much anymore.
Anyway. First of all, we're all really proud of Mum. Since we (Fred and George) decided not to go, we gave her a miniature picture of us and Dad to keep with her. Just as a good luck thing, yeah?
Bill: When that berk at the door told me I couldn't come in to the meeting to be with Mum, I had an idea. I took the picture and put both a calming and mild cheering charm on it and then gave it back to her. Knew Mum was nervous, and hoped that would help.
Molly: It did, more than you can imagine. I saw Percy almost immediately, and when he refused to look at me, well--I simply clutched the picture a little more tightly. After that, whenever I could feel myself starting to feel upset, and particularly when he was called up as a witness, I pulled the picture closer on my lap. I'm amazed I made it through, keeping my composure. But I did.
(I broke down rather badly as soon as I made it home to the Burrow, though).
Fred and George: So. Mum's told us about it, but we're not going to go through everything. Mostly, they were trying to run down Mum's character.
Molly: At first I was rather petrified when Percy was called forward. I feared that perhaps he had picked up something about the Order he was going to reveal. But it was nothing like that. He said that I was disorganised, as was demonstrated by the fact that I'm a poor housekeeper(!). The Burrow is 'chaotic.' He harped rather bitterly about the explosions that came from Fred and George's room occasionally. He pooh-poohed the significance of the barter network as proof of my capability as a manager, or someone knowledgeable about business. I 'barely ever talked about it,' he said, and the clients were 'really riff-raff scrabblers on the edge of society, certainly not pure-blooded at all.' And I had been relieved of my duties abruptly last December. The insinuation, you see, was that I was simply incompetent. I wasn't allowed to interject the true reason, that because of my husband's death, they were giving me a respite from the duties.
The licence application was tabled. I have to come back next month. And bring, oh my goodness, all sorts of things. Genealogical proof of purebred ancestry back for seven generations. The mortgage records for the Burrow and a copy of the lease in New London. They want the list of all the people I've been in contact with who have expressed interest in hiring space in Hope Building. I imagine they'll try to scare off any potential tenants next!
The Committee Members frowned and looked down their noses at me through this. Except for Lucius Malfoy, who looked on with the most insufferable little smirk on his face. As if it was just the most wonderful treat to see my own son rip into me like that.
Well. I came home and went to my bedroom and indulged in a good hour cry. But no more. I washed my face and made an apple pie, and I came to an iron-clad determination. I am not going to let them beat me. I am Molly Prewitt Weasley, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, the mother of seven six seven children and the wif widow of Arthur Weasley, who died a hero. I will not be defeated by the likes of Lucius Malfoy.
Fred and George: Hear, hear!
Bill: Never doubted it, Mum.
Molly: Oh, and there's one more thing I must say: Pansy Parkinson, Fred and George have told me that you've been quite upset about this, and you're blaming yourself and wondering if I blame you, too. I want to assure you that's not the case. Divide-and-conquer can be an effective trick, but we're simply not going to fall for it, are we? I really do mean it. Your godfather is attempting to crowd us into the same ridiculous little niche, so I feel closer to you than ever.
He's telling both of us that we are weak, and ignorant, and emotional, and foolish, and female and it's not up to us to worry our tiny little minds about business.
Well, I say that's absolute bunk. Dragon feathers.
I don't know if you'll be able to salvage any kind of relationship with him, dear, although we'll support you whatever you decide. But know this: we are going to show him. We'll make Weasley Wizarding Whizbangs and the Hope Business Building and Hope Emporium the wonder of the Protectorate.
Fred and George: See? That's our Mum. Glad to have you at our backs.
Molly: Ron, dear, I will write an owl to Ginny so she knows what is going on. As for Percy...I can't concentrate on him right now. There may be difficult moments, I don't doubt. But Arthur and I knew that Percy was choosing a path we despised a long time ago, and so this isn't entirely a surprise. I will still hold out a tendril of hope.
Now, I don't want any of you going to visit him and wreaking any sort of Weasley justice. I won't have it. We will be wary, and watch for signs from a distance if he ever seems to be rethinking things.
For now, I'm afraid that's all we can do.
Oh dear. Is ALL the pie gone?
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