Prologue
One day you and everyone you love will die. And beyond a small group of people, for an extremely brief period of time, little of what you say or do will ever matter. This is the uncomfortable truth of life. And everything you think or do is but an elaborate avoidance of it. We are inconsequential cosmic dust, bumping and milling about in a tiny blue speck. We imagine our own importance. We invent our purpose----we are nothing.
Enjoy your fucking coffee.
-Mark Manson
1st March 1981.
The day Ron Weasley is born, there's a blizzard in Ottery St Catchpole, which is rare enough as it is but more so at the beginning of Spring. The howling winds imitate the sounds of screaming, scaring his younger twins as they clutch at each other lying on a snoring Percy's lap. The haunting noise sounds like the echo of souls banishing left and right courtesy of the Dark Lord who was currently wreaking havoc somewhere in London. Charlie looked up from the homework Mum had assigned him before going to the hospital leaving him in charge of his younger brothers. How could someone sleep when the hurricane outside threw mounds and mounds of snow at their window? Similar to when the neighbor's kids used to throw snowballs at their windows to drag the Weasley kids out into a snow fight.
Charlie snorted as he remembered that Percy had slept through that as well. Charlie missed Bill. The older boy was at Hogwarts starting his exciting first year. In his absence, Charlie felt the burden of being the oldest of three and soon, four younger siblings. He would have to do well to welcome their latest sibling to their home since Bill won't be there. He hoped it was a girl this time. Mum really wanted one but Charlie wouldn’t mind if they had another brother. He knew Bill wanted another brother. Charlie couldn’t fathom why but again no one really understood Bill.
Mum and Dad had been gone all day. Aunt Muriel who had begrudgingly accepted the request to babysit them, even though they can take care of themselves just fine, was sleeping in the twins' room on her chair which she'd conjured out of thin air. The old coot dozed off trying to get the twins to sleep and his brothers had made themselves a nest in Charlie's room. Somehow all of them fit cozily on his small and dingy bed.
The twins had finally fallen asleep at around midnight. The dull hours of the night were also beginning to wear on him. Maybe he should take a nap in Percy's room. His brothers were asleep on his bed and Bill's room was turned into a nursery for the baby. But Mum and Dad could be back any moment. As time went on, it became harder and harder for Charlie to concentrate on his assigned homework. He gave up with a huff and stood up from his perch on the floor. He pushed the parchment away with his feet as he stretched out and worked the kinks out of his stiff back. Mum always told them off for showering at night but he was really tempted to take one. A nice long hot bath with bubbles and shit.
He looked over at his sleeping brothers. One of the twins, Charlie could never tell when they were asleep, had slipped out from the quilt. The other had sprawled chest first on poor Percy's face. He straightened them up and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe he could prepare some tea for his parent.
Just as he stepped off the last stair, the fireplace from the living room lit up casting a bright light on the large windows. Excited he made his way towards the tired footsteps and came upon Dad and to his surprise a dark-skinned stranger. The stranger had his back to him and his dad was facing the side, his worn wand in his hand. The look on his father's face stopped him short. The older redhead turned on the lights with a flick of his wand, and both settled in cushy sofas beside the windows. Dad drew the curtains shut with another burst of magic. Luckily they hadn't noticed him yet.
The Weasley patriarch looked pale. He'd never seen this look on his dad's face before and Charlie felt his heartbeat increasing. Had something happened? Where were Mum and the baby? Did something go wrong? They should have come home in a car like the time with twins but it was only Dad and the stranger coming through the Floo. The adults seemed to be talking in hushed tones and Charlie quickly hid behind the wall and stood on the last step to hear what was going on.
"Healer Waffling," his dad spoke, voice hushed. "Please tell me everything. What is wrong with my son? Why can't we talk about it in the Hospital? Molly had never had to stay overnight before. Not even with the twins."
"Mr. Weasley, " the stranger, Waffling said. "Please calm down, everything will be explained. I am the highest authority on the atypical manifestation of magic in infants in England and rest assured that your son and wife are in capable hands."
The patronizing tone made Charlie bristle with anger. If his dad noticed anything he didn’t mention it and continued to look at the healer with apprehension. The white-haired man puffed his chest out like a proud peacock and continued,
"The condition your son is born with is very rare indeed. The amount of unrestrained magic in the tiny body is extraordinarily astounding at best and portentous at worst."
Charlie scowled at the man behind the wall. What the fuck did porten-what's-it mean?
"Usually, the inordinate amount of magic in infants is somewhat measurable and to a certain extent controllable until the child's core is developed enough to eliminate the risk of an Obscurial."
Charlie couldn’t follow the conversation but his dad's sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed. Whatever this Obscurial was, it was bad.
"In usual cases, we develop customized potions and rituals to stop the growth of magic and speed up the process of core development until it is ready to handle the excessive amount of magic the child is born with."
His father must have a 'look' on his face because the man added rather hurriedly. " It’s completely harmless of course. There has never been a record of any lasting effects."
"I am guessing that Ronald's case is not one of your usual cases." His father's voice is a bit aggravated and it seemed the fact wasn’t missed by Healer Waffling. The man gave an annoyed sigh and continued to explain. Charlie felt like decking him in the face.
"Of course not. Hence the need for a more… private setting." There was some shifting. "My father is one of the, if not the, most notable magical theoreticians of the 19th century. In all my years neither he nor I've ever seen the amount of raw, untamed, and wild magic present itself in a newborn." Waffling drew a long breath.
" Your family is one of the most ancient and noble houses in the history of Wizarding Britain. Not to mention you are a part of sacred twenty-eight."
Just get on with it thought Charlie impatiently.
"The point is that what I am about to tell you could very well paint a bright target on your son's back if the information falls into the wrong hands." The man paused and Charlie rolled his eyes at the dramatic statement. A wave of concern still went through his body at the thought that there might be something wrong with his little sibling, Ronald.
"But what exactly is his condition? What can we do about it?" there was an edge of desperation in his father's voice that had Charlie on the tips of his feet.
"I believe your son is a Varion."
…..Well, that explained nothing. Charlie didn’t know what the term meant. What Charlie did know was that he should have been paying more attention to his steps as his foot slipped off the last stair and he stumbled into view of two older men.
"Charlie!" Dad stood up and approached him.
"Dad!" he exclaimed. " Where's mum? I thought I heard voices…" He trailed off. Looking behind his dad at the old man sitting on Dad's sofa. It was best that they didn’t know he was eavesdropping. And Charlie may not be as smart as Bill but he was a damn good liar.
"Go to your room, Charlie."
"But-"
"I'll take you to see your Mum and baby brother tomorrow." Dad interrupted hastily and pushed him back towards the stairs. "It might be a while before they can come home though. Best you rest up now."
His father's tone left no room for argument and for once, Charlie didn’t feel like pushing either. He made his way upstairs to Percy's room with a frown etched on his face. Besides, Charlie may not understand what the healer was saying but Bill was sure to know. Bill knew everything. Charlie stole some of Percy's parchment and a quill. He had a letter to write.