Chapter Seven - The Attack
We returned to The Burrow shortly after, with Crookshanks and my belongings. Uncle helped me set up my new room to my liking, and then we went downstairs for supper. Thankfully the rest of the day was uneventful. Uncle and Mrs Weasley did not argue in my presence, or if they did, they weren't as loud.
That night, as Uncle and I headed to our rooms, I realized we hadn't brought Mother's old trunk. I had been distracted when Crookshanks had started scratching the back-door, and after my little outburst I didn't have the energy to think about anything.
"Uncle," I said, stopping in front of the door to my room. "I forgot something today." I looked down at my feet in shame. I didn't want to make him go back there. Not even I wanted to go to my old home.
I glanced up at him and was surprised when he didn't look annoyed or disappointed. He was calm and looking at me expectantly. "What was it?"
"Mother's old trunk," I said simply.
He nodded sharply and then slowly smiled. "Well, then. Tomorrow we'll go back, and maybe you can pick anything else you've missed." I nodded in gratitude. "Night, John," he said patting my head and then turning to his bedroom.
"Good night, Uncle," I said quietly, and headed to my own room.
Nearly four hours later, or so I guess, I woke up panting and sweating. The house was silent and dark, and there was no light coming from outside. That night seemed to be moonless.
This time I didn't scream, but I could still feel blood on my hands, and hear it moving on the walls, as if it were a living thing. I pulled up the comforter over my head, trying to shield myself from the dark room.
I remember falling asleep while sobbing quietly and shaking with fear.
I woke up when Mrs Weasley slammed the door open. Or maybe she didn't open it so violently, but it felt that way to me. "Up, up, Johnny! Today's a sunny day!" she said cheerfully, throwing clean clothes on my bed.
I felt too tired to feel annoyed. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. I tried not to cringe at the odd selection of clothes she had placed for me. Wizards and witches should be to kept away from Muggle garments.
Luckily, she left the room to give me some privacy, so I took advantage of that and put away the orange shirt and the green shorts. The house might have been under a Heating Charm of some sorts, according to Mr Weasley, but I wasn't going to stay indoors all day, anyway.
Even though I was a boy and didn't care for fashion, I still had the sense of color. I remembered Mother also had liked to dress casually, she wasn't like the other mothers, who would wear make-up or dress up formally when picking their children at school. And her hair was always bushy, but it was soft and I liked hugging her and having her hair get in the way.
Once out of the bathroom, I went downstairs to eat breakfast. Mrs Weasley was moving about, busy with the food. Uncle was, once again, reading the newspaper. The Daily Prophet. "Good morning," I said, sitting next to him.
Uncle looked up from the paper and smiled at me. "Morning, John," he said and then returned to reading.
"Good morning, Johnny," Mrs Weasley said a little less loudly than when she woke me up minutes before. She didn't comment on the different clothes I was wearing, and placed before me a plate with bacon and fried eggs. Such unhealthy food. Fortunately, she made better food at noon and at night. I ate a little bit and then slightly shoved the plate aside.
Uncle quickly took it from me and started eating what I had left. I found it amusing that he could eat so quickly, and couldn't help smiling. I looked up at Mrs Weasley and my smile faded. She didn't look happy. "Ronald! That was Johnny's breakfast!"
I inwardly groaned. I knew it was too good to be true. Uncle swallowed before speaking up. "He doesn't like this, Mum. And why waste it, if I can eat it?"
"Oh, that's rubbish! Of course he likes what I cooked for him!" she said angrily, then she turned to me with a smile. "Don't you, Johnny?" Mrs Weasley asked me, her face was a mix of anger and fake cheerfulness.
I panicked. What could I say? Whatever I did seemed to make them fight each other. Mr Weasley was out, working, so there was no one to make them stop. I felt my chest tighten, suddenly. And it was getting difficult for me to breathe. "I... I..." That was all I could say, before things went black.
Notes: Poor John. :( I make him suffer so much. I made Molly so overwhelming that she's
starting to get on my nerves, hehehe. But well, it's his point of view, not mine.
What happened to John will be explained in next chapter, though it's nothing horribly serious. It's a bit like
stress, you know. He comes from a relatively calm house and now is caught in the line of fire, between Molly and Ron,
plus his mother's death... It's not field trip for John.