Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Some of the eventual plot comes out here, if you're a sharp reader…
Is there a cure among us
From this processed sanity
I weaken with each voice that sings
Now, in this world of purchase
I'm going to buy back memories
To awaken some old qualities
Collective Soul
Run
Interlude: Patriarch
Perhaps it was just some passing feeling, some poorly constructed or misconstrued notion of reality, but Arthur Weasley was sure that, at some point, things had irrevocably changed in his world. He wasn't thinking of Voldemort, or marrying Molly, or even the birth of any of his children; rather, the thing that was foremost in his mind, and had been for quite some time really, was how different things had been since he'd returned from work early one morning to find Harry Potter eating at his breakfast table.
It was funny that he hadn't even known who the rather scrawny, bespectacled, black-haired child was at the time; especially considering how much Harry had influenced his life and the lives of everyone in his family. And it was almost ironic, in a way that could only be amusing to the father of seven children, that he hadn't questioned it either. He had thought he knew how his youngest children-Ronald and Ginevra-would turn out, long before that day, but those suppositions turned out to be fallacies. And Harry Potter was the cause of that.
Arthur had known long before Ron had reached Hogwarts age that his youngest son was a bit of a slacker, could be very standoffish at times, and had issues with the amount of money their family had. He loved his son very much, but at the back of his mind he was aware that the color of his hair and the last name he took to Hogwarts with him could create some issues, and he hoped that Ron didn't get into too much trouble, or make the wrong enemies too early.
And Ginny…well, she was his only daughter, so it was very difficult for him to be critical of her, but somewhere in him he had the steel to be impartial about all of his progeny. She was vivacious where Ron was fiery, cunning where Ron was straightforward (a good thing, really), and sweet where Ron could be very genial.
However, he had observed over the years that she could and probably would do just about anything to get what she wanted, if she really desired it. She could be vicious or even downright nasty, but that was only on very rare occasions and few and far between. He loved her dearly, because she was his youngest, but he knew there were latent issues there.
Then, Ron had gone to Hogwarts, and he had gotten into some trouble, but he had done marvelously better than Arthur had expected. There had been no serious issues, and according to Albus at the end of the term, had even contributed greatly to keeping the safety of the school. He didn't know what to think, other than that something had happened to his son to cause such a drastic change (drastic in his mind, at least, since he hadn't been at Hogwarts to see the slow evolution) in his attitude and mentality that Arthur observed over the summer.
Ron had mentioned Harry in his few letters from school, and had said a few things about the boy during the summer, but Arthur couldn't wrap his mind around his son being a friend of the Harry Potter. Looking back on it, he supposed that even he to a certain extent was wrapped up in the image that Harry hated so much, but it had pervaded the Wizarding World for so long it was hard to let go of the stereotype. Therefore, when he had walked into the Burrow that morning and come face to face with the actual Harry Potter, he was unprepared for how totally his preconceived notions would be shattered.
The boy was polite, almost painfully shy, and seemingly unaware of the persona of The Boy Who Lived that would be bound to plague him. Arthur was astounded that he'd had so little exposure to the magical world before meeting Hagrid-here was the boy that had ended Voldemort's first reign of terror, one of the most revered (sadly, sometimes hated) wizards in the past five hundred years, and he didn't even know he was a wizard until he was eleven.
But, that was neither here nor there. The boy, this version of Harry Potter that Arthur had no idea how to deal with at first, had brought out qualities in his son that Arthur had known were there but hadn't expected to see until Ron was an adult. Ron measured his responses more carefully than he had before, which to the layperson meant little because Ron was still as hotheaded as ever, but to Arthur it was a vast improvement over the almost-obnoxious-at-times pre-Hogwarts Ron.
The way that the two children interacted-they seemed to be protective of each other-was a much older activity than Arthur had ever seen or expected to see in a child. Truth be told, much of it came from Harry, and Arthur could understand that. Regardless of how ignorant Harry was of the magical world, there was a legacy he lived up to, unconsciously or not. Ron reciprocated to an extent, though.
Also, even though Ginny hadn't been at Hogwarts that year, he could see subtle differences in his daughter throughout Harry's stay at the Burrow. For one, she was normally very extroverted, but she had receded at least partly into a shell around Harry. He understood, from what Molly told him anyway, that it was just part of some silly girlhood crush that Ginny'd had on The Boy Who Lived. That itself presented problems that Arthur didn't even want to think about, lest he be short with Harry when the boy had done nothing wrong. But also, beyond the usual feelings of protection for his daughter any father feels around boys at some point, he knew that `The Boy Who Lived' was not an image Ginny should hold of Harry.
Seeing that Ron and Harry had become best friends, inseparable really, there was no way that would be healthy for the three of them. Harry was already very uncomfortable with anything associated with his fame, and nothing that Ginny did for The Boy Who Lived would help her cause, even if in the end it was just friendship. Arthur couldn't even believe he was contemplating such things at that time, but they had entered his thought process and he'd found it difficult to excise them.
The next year had come and gone, and at one point at the end of the term he had been certain that Ginny was dead. She was somewhere cold and dark and wet, unable to be reached by anyone, even Albus himself, and he had lost his only daughter, his youngest child. And then…
And then Harry Potter had walked into the Headmaster's office with Ginny and Ron in tow, and his daughter had been reborn. He had seven children again-he was whole again. He knew that he had never properly thanked Harry for it, and now it almost seemed mundane to the myriad other things Harry had been through with Ron and Ginny (and the others, of course), but it really wasn't mundane. Harry had saved his daughter's life, had given her the chance to live and grow, and had given Arthur the chance to see those things…
Harry was like that though. He was a flashpoint for gratitude that never came his way, even though it was richly deserved, and he didn't care. He did it because it was in his nature, and he didn't question it. Arthur didn't really understand, but over the years he had come to accept it as purely Harry Potter, and at some point he realized that he'd gained absolute confidence in Harry to protect his children.
It was odd to think that way, since Harry had been only a teenager and Arthur was an adult, but in some way he knew that Harry could protect his children better than he ever could. It saddened and exhilarated him at the same time, that the time for innocence had ended so abruptly, but there was nothing he could do. He had gained an external perspective that day when Harry had saved Ginny that he'd never lost, and right now it was telling him that just as the years had advanced, so had Harry's intrinsic place within the fabric of their lives.
`Their' meant much more than just his family-he was referring to anyone associated closely with Harry. He wasn't shallow enough to suppose that it had only been because Harry could `protect' them all (though that in and of itself was a concept Arthur had refused to ever consider, especially when it came to Voldemort), but it was a very small part of it. There was a security that people, even adults and leaders of the Wizarding World felt when around Harry, though Harry had always refused to ever see it.
That was why, on his eldest's wedding day, Arthur had observed calmly and knowingly the six children-no, teenagers-
But that wasn't even right. Though their ages suggested they were teenagers, they weren't, not in mind and spirit at least. They had been sitting around a table, the six of them, and Arthur had just watched them-
A knock came at his door, startling Arthur from his musings. He sat up, blinked his eyes a few times, and cleared his throat.
"Yes?" he asked. He was Vice Minister, after all, and no matter how powerful the nostalgia was, he couldn't shirk his duties.
The door opened and Amos walked in, smiling at him. Arthur smiled back. He had always had a very good relationship with Amos, and it had only strengthened after the death of Cedric. In a way, he was glad that Amos was Minister and not himself. The man deserved the recognition after all the hard work he'd done, even after the death of his son.
"Busy this morning, Arthur?" Amos asked, congenially, after closing the door.
"Not in the least," Arthur replied, waving his hand over his cluttered desk. Amos just laughed and took a seat opposite him. The Minister had several sheaves of parchment in his hands.
"How is your family doing?" Amos asked, settling back into the chair. Arthur didn't answer for the briefest of moments, considering the oddly casual start to the conversation, but let the thought pass.
"Oh, you know, same as usual."
Amos inclined his head, and then looked at the parchment in his hands. A brief frown flit across his features, but it faded quickly.
"Hermione won't be back till the first?"
"Yes. Why?" Arthur asked, genuinely curious.
"Oh, nothing. Just, the Wizengamot is being a bother about these new Knightbus policies, and it's really Hermione's jurisdiction, not mine."
"Well, I'm sure it can wait till she returns. Her vacation is already half over," he said, wondering where Hermione was and how she was doing at the same time. He wondered if she'd taken any of his advice to heart. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen nor heard from her since that day…
"I suppose it will have to," Amos said. The Minister seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then the amiable man met Arthur's eyes.
"Arthur…" he began, but trailed off. Arthur sat up a little more.
"What is it, Amos?"
"Have you given any thought to the elections coming up this November?"
"Not really, no," he replied. "Why?"
"I'm not sure if I'm going to run for reelection, and that would leave it open for you…"
Arthur was silent for a minute. Minister of Magic? Was that something he wanted? Could he even handle it? The Vice Ministerial position was nice because it dealt with very little of the public persona the Ministerial position came packaged with.
"Why wouldn't you run again? You've done an admirable job so far," Arthur eventually replied. Amos smiled, and it was slightly conspiratorial.
"While I tend to agree with you on that, I don't know if I can handle the ruddy politics any longer."
"It's lessened considerably in the past few years," Arthur pointed out.
"It has, but everything's been a fight. You know that. Many of the changes we've wanted to implement since Riddle left the picture are still stagnating."
Arthur shrugged. "You'll find that with any bureaucracy, but we've made some progress."
"Oh, I know, but I'm just getting tired of it. I've been more than a little jaded since…well, since Cedric." Amos paused. Arthur nodded slowly at him. He understood. He knew what it felt like to lose a child, although only very briefly.
"I'm finding myself less and less willing to devote the time to this job that I would like to, and it would be a disservice to the populace to continue on for another term like that."
Arthur conceded the point with a wave of his hand. "I suppose you're right. I don't know if I'd want to replace you, though."
"You won't, or you just haven't really considered it enough yet?"
"Haven't thought about it enough. And even if I did run, it's bloody well likely I'd lose."
"Nonsense," Amos said. "I daresay you're more well-liked than I am, and that's hard to do," he said, with a smile. Arthur chuckled briefly.
"You're more assertive than I am, though, and so would be any other candidate. Vice Minister suits me just fine."
"Well, will you at least consider it?" Amos asked.
"Of course," Arthur said.
"Good. I'd like to know I left the position in good hands."
Arthur waved off the praise. "I do what I can. Nothing more. Now, was there anything else?" he queried.
Amos scratched his head for a moment, glanced down at the papers in his hands, and then shook his head.
"I'll just have these delivered to Hermione's office for when she returns," Amos said, and stood. Arthur stood as well. Amos turned to leave, and then stopped abruptly.
"Actually, I just remembered something else. Do you suppose that Harry will be attending this year's V-Day anniversary?"
Arthur's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. He hadn't thought of that before. Harry would be finishing school this year-in fact, he might have been done by now-so if he came back to Britain he would be able to make the celebration. Arthur wasn't overly fond of it, but he understood one positive outcome: people remembered Voldemort and the dark times, if only for one day out of the year.
"I can't fathom why not," he said.
"Alright, was just a consideration," Amos said, and turned away. "You're available for the meeting with the Ambassadors later, right?" he called, as he opened the door and walked out of Arthur's office.
"Of course," Arthur called back, and he saw Amos nod before turning the corner.
Arthur took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and sagged back into his chair. He waved his wand at the door and it closed with soft thud. Amos had just given him more things to think about, and he already had a lot on his plate. Now that he was alone again, though, in the silence of his office, the nostalgia from before crept back in.
Would Harry return to Britain now that he was done at Stanford? And if he did so, what would that mean for the rest of his close family friends, who had adjusted to life without Harry and moved on?
Arthur winced at his own internal thought process. No one had moved on; rather, they had just gotten used to life without Harry Potter. He almost laughed out loud at that, at how utterly ridiculous is sounded, but it was true. Harry Potter had been the center point of so many lives for many years, that when he'd left there was a hole that had needed filling. People had adjusted in subtle ways, such as tackling the world of politics like Arthur had done, but it couldn't be denied that the return of said center point wouldn't go without ripples.
Totally objectively, as Albus might have stated it, Harry was the thread that tied so many lives together. Many of the people that Arthur considered close friends and family he would have never met if Harry had never come into his or his children's lives. That thread had unraveled ever so slightly in the last four years, frayed in some areas and was in danger of snapping at others, and he wondered if the `Savior's return would repair or further damage those deficiencies.
His mind kept going back to the day of the Bill's wedding, when he had seen the six of them at that table.
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Molly bustled by him, distracting him for a moment, and he turned to his rather red-faced wife.
"Molly," he said, and she stopped and looked at him. He beckoned her over. She stood still, and then walked to him.
"Dear?" she asked, her voice tight.
He laid his hands on her shoulders, drawing her to him. They embraced; he could feel how tightly wound she was.
"Ease up a bit, Molly," he whispered, since his mouth was so close to her ear. She pulled back and looked into his eyes.
"I'm trying, Arthur. There's just so much to do, though," she said, and started to pull away. He held tight.
"Molly."
She sighed. "What?"
"It will all get done. This is a happy day. Slow down some." She stared at the collar of his shirt, and then nodded. She was smiling when she met his eyes again, and her face had returned to its normal hue.
"Ok. All right. I can do that." She pecked him on the lips, and in that moment every little thing about Molly Prewett Weasley that he loved flooded through his being. He had to contain the goofy grin that threatened to spread over his face. Instead, he let a small smile spread across his lips.
"Good," he said, and let her go. She continued on her way. He stared after her for a few seconds, and then slowly turned his eyes back to the scene he had been observing. He couldn't help notice the ambience of the entire back yard, though, and took another few seconds admiring the handiwork of everyone involved.
A blue awning had been erected over the back entrance into the Burrow, and a similarly blue tent had been set up for the reception. He was just outside the edge of it, and he could see the many strings of lights that went from the tent to the house, a span of twenty feet or so. The sun was just setting in the west, so there was a soft glow across that small expanse. Their gardens had been magically amplified, and were basically bursting with as many white lilies as possible, per Fleur's wishes.
It was a false serenity, however, one that he and everyone else were all too aware of. The death of Albus just three weeks before had been a huge shock, and no one had been able to accept it yet. Bill and Fleur had been very brave to go ahead with the wedding anyways, and he supported them for it. Molly was absolutely taken with Fleur after the part-Veela's impassioned speech in the hospital wing, so there was no problem there.
These musings led him to the table toward the back of the tent; perhaps thirty paces from where he was standing a group of six were seated. They were, of course, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville. The sight would not have been odd-it would have been odd to see them seated apart-under any other circumstance except this one. None of them were smiling, even though the reception was in full swing. Beyond them he could see Bill and Fleur dancing…
Hermione appeared to be speaking about something important, because they were all listening raptly. All eyes were focused on Hermione, and she didn't seem to mind at all. Occasionally, Ron and Harry would nod at something she was saying, but Neville, Ginny, and Luna just sat there, stoically.
Arthur was half-tempted to move closer and eavesdrop on the conversation, but he knew from experience that one of them would suss him out and they would talk about something else or even move away. The feeling was oddly melancholic, that his children and their friends were talking about something they didn't want him to know, but he had a feeling that it dealt with Voldemort.
He trusted them, which is why he didn't actually move closer. Albus had told him after the attack from the snake that Harry and by proxy his children were likely to get involved in some highly secretive things in the fight against Voldemort, and Arthur had resisted at first, but Albus had made him see there was nothing he could do. The old wizard had said, rather bluntly, that Ronald and Ginevra were more loyal to Harry than him, at that point.
It hurt Arthur to think about it, but he had eventually come to accept it. He was their father, and would always be there for them, but there was a role that Harry filled he could never come close to. And he didn't know if he wanted to. He was scared of Voldemort. He didn't know if he'd be able to stand face to face with the dark wizard, as Harry had done several times now, and that was something his children should never see or know.
Regardless, he watched as Hermione stopped talking; a silence settled over the table. He was about to walk over and ask them if they were going to sit there all night, but Harry started talking. He started out slow, appearing to carefully consider his words, but eventually whatever he was saying was flowing from his lips unbridled.
If they had been paying rapt attention to Hermione, he didn't know what to call what he was observing. They were hanging off Harry's words; if Death Eaters attacked just then, Arthur was sure they wouldn't even realize it unless one of them was hit by a spell. Their focus was so utterly complete on whatever Harry was saying that Arthur was being swept in just by observing.
Harry turned his head slightly, looking directly at Hermione, and continued to speak. Arthur could see a visible change in her face and posture as he did so, and when he turned his head again, to look at Ron, Hermione's face was stony and resolute-her eyes were smoldering with a passion Arthur had never seen in a child. The process was repeated, and by the time Harry reached Neville, who sat on his other side from Hermione, all of them looked ready to leap into the fiery depths of whatever hell they were discussing.
Harry finished speaking to all of them, it seemed, and Arthur held his breath for a moment as a second, longer silence stretched across the table. Harry's eyes flicked to him, and for the quickest instants, Arthur felt like he was being judged. He felt like the scrawny boy he had found in his kitchen one morning five years before was scrutinizing his soul, and although it was only an instant, the feeling would stay with him for the rest of his life.
It passed, and then Ron said something. Several of them nodded, and then they tangibly relaxed. The vibe permeated the air, and Arthur found himself exhaling a breath he had not known he was holding. As he watched, they broke apart in twos-Ron with Luna, Neville with Ginny, and Harry with Hermione-to dance amongst the other couples. They were all sporting smiles now.
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From then on, Arthur had always carried more hope with him than he felt he deserved, but there was nothing he could do about it. Watching the six of them interact was enough to cause it.
But…that wasn't right. Not entirely. Watching Harry lead was what caused it. Even though Arthur could clearly recall the uncomfortably visceral sensation of being examined by Harry-he wasn't even sure if that had actually happened-he finally understood why people rallied around Harry Potter.
Arthur rubbed his eyes, sat up, and looked at the parchment covering his desk. It wouldn't do to reminisce all day. There was work to be done. With a small sigh, he picked up the top document, replaced his glasses on his nose, and began reading.
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