The Weasley family had an ancient clock.
Every member of the family had a hand of their own.
After the war, the hand engraved with Fred’s name stopped forever on “Mortal Peril.”
Still.
Terrifyingly still.
Like a wound that would never heal.
For a long time, Molly sat before that clock nearly every day, sometimes for the better part of the afternoon.
Especially in the immediate aftermath of the war, when the wizarding world lay in ruins and everyone was numbing their grief through relentless busyness.
Molly simply stayed home.
Stayed before that clock, or made the journey to Fred’s gravestone, rebuilding the rubble of her heart piece by piece.
Later, Harry and Ginny broke up.
But Molly kept the hand bearing Harry’s name right where it was, and soon added hands for Hermione and Teddy.
Later still, Percy and Audrey married, and another hand joined the rest.
As Bill and Fleur’s daughters were born one after another, that old clock grew more and more crowded, more and more lively.
But Molly still paused before it, from time to time.
When Ron was still working at the Ministry of Magic, Molly’s gaze would drift back and forth between Ron’s hand and Harry’s.
After Ron resigned, Molly’s attention fell almost entirely on Harry.
That child.
Always throwing himself recklessly into missions, never once knowing how to spare himself.
Molly had lost count of how many times she’d seen his hand resting on “Mortal Peril” or “Hospital.”
Once, Ron and the others had even tried to hide it from her.
But they forgot: the clock’s hands would tell Molly the truth whether anyone wanted them to or not.
That time, Molly had been furious.
Absolutely beside herself.
She could not bear to lose another child.
She had lost one before, and that loss had nearly destroyed her.
Harry was her child.
Had been for a long time.
Friday evenings were the standing Weasley family dinner, and everyone came, everyone except Charlie, and Ginny, who was sometimes away for training.
Molly loved this kind of liveliness most: the children crowded around the table, laughing, bickering, complaining.
Molly slid a fat roast chicken into the oven and turned to go check the time.
She passed the clock.
Her feet stopped.
She couldn’t breathe.
Victoire’s hand and Teddy’s hand were both resting on the blood-red “Mortal Peril.”
Molly’s mind went blank.
Fear surged up like a tide.
Molly stumbled back several steps and crashed down hard onto the floor.
The pain brought her back, just a fraction.
The next second, Molly had summoned a Patronus almost on pure instinct, and then was running for the front door.
After the war, the Weasley family had become a household of heroes admired by all, and a target in the eyes of more than a few.
To guard against fugitive Death Eater remnants using Apparition to launch a sudden attack, they had cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx around the property and sealed the fireplace’s Floo Network entirely.
Molly had to go a full mile out before Apparating.
A small inconvenience long since made peace with.
Right now, Molly could have cursed it out loud.
Molly knew where Teddy and Victoire were.
They had all spent a good while sorting out the children’s education.
Bill and the others were too busy to watch over Victoire all day.
But a Muggle primary school was out of the question, those two children were obviously different, and would never fit in with the other kids.
Molly and Andromeda had originally planned to teach the two children together, but that left them with no playmates.
In the end, they’d decided to let Teddy and Victoire spend each afternoon at a children’s centre.
Volunteers there taught simple arithmetic and writing, played with the children, kept an eye on things.
Safe, lively, supervised.
But now the two of them were at a Muggle children’s centre, how could they both be in danger at the same time?!
Molly couldn’t work it out.
There was no time to try.
Molly only knew one thing: getting to them, now.
Harry had been in a meeting.
He should have been off hours ago, but the Auror Office had been running overtime nearly every day lately.
Over the past few months, dark wizard activity had surged without warning.
It kept Harry in a constant state of tight, uneasy tension.
Michael was bent over a notebook, reporting to the room on the progress of intelligence gathering.
The conference room was completely silent.
Until —
BANG!
The door slammed open.
Hermione burst in, face deathly pale, breathing ragged, expression torn apart by fear.
Harry’s heart stopped.
He hadn’t seen Hermione look like that in a long time.
That particular kind of fear had only ever appeared during the war.
“Harry, now!” Hermione’s voice was shaking.
“Teddy and Victoire are trapped in a fire. The Muggle children’s centre is burning. Traffic is blocked — the fire engines can’t get through!”
The conference room went dead silent.
The next second, Harry was already out the door.
When he Apparated to the scene, Andromeda, Bill, and Fleur were already there.
Fleur was crying and nearly out of control, lunging again and again toward the burning building.
Angelina had both arms locked around Andromeda, who was on the verge of collapse.
Molly’s face was ashen, held upright by Arthur, looking like one more second would bring Molly down entirely.
The blazing flames reflected despair in every face.
“Ron and George have gone to clear the traffic.” Bill’s voice was held together through sheer effort, the words coming through gritted teeth.
“The front entrance has already collapsed. I’ll go around the back and see if there’s a way in —”
Every last shred of reason in Harry’s chest burned away.
He couldn’t be bothered about the Statute of Secrecy.
He ripped out his wand and aimed it at the burning building, casting the rain-summoning charm.
Hermione, sharp and fast, cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm and a wide-range Disillusionment Charm over their section of ground the instant Harry raised his arm, cutting off every nearby Muggle’s line of sight.
The others seized on it like a lifeline.
Every one of them drew a wand.
In an instant, dense storm clouds massed across the sky at a furious pace, thick enough to look like they might press the world flat.
Rain came down in a wall, battering ferociously against the blazing building.
And in the distance, the wail of fire engine sirens began closing in.
Urgent and piercing, but full of hope.
➤ Next: Rescue