Harry
Harry was soundly sleeping when he was awoken by a soft noise.
He rolled over to find Molly twisted halfway out of her sheet, whimpering softly and crying out. He was about to ignore it and go back to sleep when she began to cry and kick at the air. “No, no, get back. Stop! Don’t hurt him!”
Harry got up as slowly as he could so as to not startle her, and walked over to her, crouching down and shaking her gently. “Molly, Molly. Wake up. You're having a nightmare.” She continued to cry silently, begging someone not to hurt a person, seemingly Grey. He kept working at it, gently shaking her. After a minute of this, she seemed to start suddenly and her eyes flew open, and she stared wildly around, thrashing as Harry tried to hold her down.
“Stop, stop Molly. It’s okay, sis.” He said through gritted teeth as he tried to make sure she didn't hurt herself with all the erratic movements. After a very long and strenuous minute of holding her down, she finally settled and began to gasp quietly. “Harry? Is that you? What’s happening?” She tried to move her arms to presumably wipe the sleep out of her eyes, and found them still pinned by Harry, who let go and sat back on his butt now that she had come to her senses. “Why were you holding me down? What the heck?”
“You were having a nightmare.” Harry explained wearily, leaning against the side of his bed and rubbing at his own eyes, the adrenaline fading and the sleepiness returning in it’s wake. Heh, wake. Harry chuckled lightly to himself at the stupid joke. “Tried to wake you up, and you started thrashing about, yelling about someone not hurting Grey.”
He couldn't see Molly well in the dark, but she turned her head away in embarrassment and looked down at her lap, now sitting up as well. “Sorry if I hurt you. Didn't mean to.” She grinned and looked at him, her old cheeriness returning. “You must have misheard. I’m fine, Harry, you worrywart.”
Harry gave her a long, level look that he had seen Fred pull off so well, not sure if it had the correct intent seeing as it was mostly dark in his room. “Molly, I just saw all of it for the last two minutes. You were clearly having a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Harry, you’re reading far too much into things. I’m fine, it was just a little bad dream.” Moly said with a strained laugh that was not convincing in the least.
“Molly. I’m here for you. Like in Psalm 23:4 Jesus will walk beside you in the valley of the shadow of death and He will comfort you. And I’m here too, Molly. I understand and I’m here.” He kept his voice understanding and soft, and reached out to lay a hand on his sister's hand.
Molly jerked her hand away from his touch, and for the first time some of her real emotions slipped through the cracks of the mask, the facade she had been wearing. “No, Harry, you don’t understand. You can’t just always spout this stupid Bible crap like it makes everything better! You don’t understand. You can’t. You weren’t there when that thing came into the dungeons. Didn’t have to look into its dead eyes, see the blood of your friends on its claws. Knowing that you would be next.” Her voice became lower as she continued talking, her face tightening and her tone becoming harsher, more growling. “Cause if you had, you wouldn’t be spouting all this nonsense about Jesus this and Jesus that! Jesus wasn’t there that night! He wasn’t there!” She jerked her shirt up, and in the faint light it looked even more horrible, more ghastly, the long scar running down her abdomen, the skin slightly raised and bruised around the entire length of it. “What did Jesus do when that monster did this to me?! Why didn’t He stop that thing from tearing into my gut, huh? Why?” By now, her voice had broken down to a whisper.
“Molly…” Harry said, feeling at a loss for words. He was stunned by his sister’s accusations. That wasn't fair at all! He had been sick with worry over his sister ever since that Halloween night, spent all the time he possibly could by her side. But she, she not him, had been so closed off since then it was hard to get through to her. He felt anger rise in him, and he began to open his mouth to snap back, to rightly defend himself against these cruel and unfair accusations. But... as he looked upon his sister right now, she looked so vulnerable underneath the anger and frustration. And there, there her scar still exposed, evidence of the trauma she had endured, evidence of the pain she had endured just so she could go to the same school as him, he did feel guilt rise up in him. In a way, it was his fault. And, well, between Snape and Quidditch and exam preparations, he supposed he hadn’t always done a good job showing his own concern.
So instead of snapping at her, he sighed. "I’m sorry, Molly. I should have been there more for you. I should have made more time for my one and only sister. If I hadn't let you convince me to come to Hogwarts with me, maybe you wouldn't have been hurt.” He held up a finger before she could speak and interrupt him. “But that doesn’t mean that Jesus wasn't there. He is always there. He may not have physically stepped in and vanquished the monster, but Jesus gave you the hope and strength to defeat him. Jesus protected you in His way.”
Harry gave his sister what he thought was his most reassuring smile, hoping his words would make her feel better. But she just gave a bitter laugh. “What? You think Jesus gave me strength? Sorry to disappoint you, but Jesus had nothing to do with it. Maybe you've never heard of it, but there is a little thing called adrenaline. That and me trying my best not to die. Not God or whatever religious bullcrap you’re trying to pitch me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, you’re just like them. This is why I didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad about this. They’d just say the same things you’re saying. I don't want them to just tell me that God or Jesus or whatever will just magically make everything better! At least Professor Sprout and Professor Snape are actually listening to me – not just throwing Bible quotes at me or saying Jesus is the answer, if I just look inside myself."
For the second time that evening, Harry felt at a loss for words. He had suspected, had known, that his sister’s trauma was still impacting her, that she was still suffering underneath her facade. But he was completely dumbfounded by the words coming out of her mouth. Molly... losing her faith in Christ?! His sister, saying she couldn't talk to Mom or Dad? Well, he wasn't sure he could restore her trust in Christ, but maybe he could restore her trust in their parents.
“Molly… you’re talking like you’re never going to tell Mom and Dad about-about what happened. You know you can’t do that, right? You almost died, Molly!” he cried, his voice reflecting his guilt at having kept the secret so long in the first place. ” Mom… Dad… they deserve to know. You- We need to tell them.”
“We don’t need to do anything. I don’t, and you definitely don’t. It’s my secret to tell, not yours. You weren’t there when that monster tried to kill me and my friends! I was the one who was attacked, and so I will be the one to tell them when I’m the one ready. And so help me, if you quote the Fifth Commandment at me, I might just break the Sixth!”
Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel shock or anger at this. His sister had always been more outspoken than him, and he often let himself get roped into her schemes. But she had never given him orders before, never threatened him like she was doing now. He didn’t like it all and instinctively, he felt the defensive part of him rise to push back. But he ruthlessly suppressed it, reminding himself that he was here to help his sister because she was hurting.
“Molly, you know I can’t do that. It’s not - it’s not right! Mom and Dad… when they sent us to Hogwarts, they trusted us to take care of each other, to keep each other safe,” he said, raising a hand to forestall what he was sure would have been another biting remark from his sister. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t done a good job of it so far, that I wasn’t there during Halloween. But what you’re asking me to do goes completely against that. You’re obviously still hurting – you’re having nightmares, for goodness sake! I need to help you. But I can’t do that if you close me off. Neither can our parents if you don’t tell them what happened. What kind of brother… or son, would I be if I stayed silent about your pain? No, Molly. I can’t do it. It’s not right.”
Molly turned away, pulling her sheets up to her neck and pointing her back at him. “You tell yourself whatever you want, Harry, to help you sleep better. You can label your jerk behavior under whatever stupid Gryffindor banner you want, of being brave and caring and doing the right thing. At the end of the day, you just want to tell them so you feel less guilty. At least a Slytherin can keep a secret.”
"Molly," Harry hesitated. "You don't really think that of me. I know you don't."
She was quiet for a moment as he stared at her back. But when her response came, it was hard and cold,”Yes, Harry. I do.”
Harry's stomach tightened into a knot. She couldn't… she couldn't… she was his sister. That had to mean something. His thoughts were a mess, and Molly clearly wasn’t up for talking, so with a sigh, he gave up on the conversation. "I guess… I guess we don't have to talk about it right now."
"We don't have to talk about anything as far as I'm concerned," Molly hissed from over her shoulder, still not dignifying him with a glance..
"Good night, Molly," Harry said. "I love you. I'll see you in the morning." Molly gave a small grunt in reply, which Harry supposed was better than silence. Harry didn't know how else to respond to this, what else he could possibly say, so he didn't. He just looked down at his hands as he slowly clambered up to his feet and slid into bed, feeling shocked and hurt. As he laid there, he stared at the ceiling. Above the ceiling was the attic. Above the attic was the roof. Above the roof was the sky. Above the sky was where Heaven was supposed to be…
Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Why had Molly said those things? How could she have said those things? He had spent so much time trying to connect with his sister. And now here she was, throwing it all back in his face and then turning around and asking him to keep lying for her? But worst of all, she was doubting God. God, who had kept their Dad from harm’s way so many times, had returned him safely to them time after time. And now where faith used to be, it was all filled with hate. Hurriedly in his head, as if to ward away the words that she had said from infecting him, he thought Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name… forgive Molly. She knows not what she says.
But right after he was done praying, his mind went back to questions, so many questions fuelled by guilt. When had this change occurred? Why hadn't he noticed? Why was she so stubborn?! It wasn't supposed to be this way. The Christmas sleepovers had always been wonderful, something Harry liked best about the holidays. Molly's fear still consumed her. Harry could understand that, mostly. It had been bad for him just knowing she was hurt. But she had been the one in danger. He had mourned the House Elves. But Molly had seen them die. He shut his eyes, trying to force himself asleep. It didn't work. There was just to many emotions in turmoil inside of him to possibly do that. He felt guilt and disgust and anger and-and-and… he just felt too many emotions right now, and she just turned her back to him and seemed perfectly happy to leave it at that with no more words spoken, no more trying to reconcile.
They were supposed to be brother and sister. They had been raised as twins or nearly enough. Harry had no memories of a life before Molly. He couldn't comprehend a life without Molly. She was here though… she still had her laugh… she still snorted when she laughed hard. She still tucked her hair over her ears to keep them warm from snow. Why hadn't she come to him though? He would have been there… all she had to do was ask… she shouldn't have needed to ask. He hadn't spent that much time on Quidditch had he? Not at her expense? But could he have invited her anyway? He wanted these thoughts to stop. Why wouldn't they stop?! Why would they just keep going around and around and around, not giving him any peace? And still they came, like the unrelenting flood, and he had no ark to get on, to float above them, to rise and be safe from them.
Wood would not have approved, his brain continued. But what did Wood know about family, the other side snapped back. All he ever talked about was the Quidditch Cup…
Come to think of it, Oliver did treat the Cup like it was an idol, the original side noted. That wasn't good. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the ceiling, feeling broken, feeling all alone. It was long enough that eventually, the first beams of sunlight were coming out of the window, and Harry shifted. But before he could pull the blankets up over his head, he heard A soft sniffling came from over his shoulder, and he tried to steel himself, not to turn and look immediately, trying to summon up that anger he had been feeling just a few minutes ago, to not go and try and comfort Molly, who had just leveled all these cruel accusations against him. But then the sniffling got louder, accompanied by choked breaths and muffled noises. "Molly?"
She sniffed again but didn't reply. Harry's stomach was lead, but he pushed the blankets off. Molly had been awake too… trapped in the same thoughts as him, being tortured by them? Well, even if she didn't want him around, that was too bad. He was here now, and he couldn't leave her to the same torture he had been enduring, she didn't deserve it. Harry walked over to the side of the air mattress and sat down, careful not to sit on Molly by accident. Molly sat up next to him and he wrapped his arms around her sobbing form. He held her as she cried on his shoulder, and he didn't say anything, not wanting to repeat any earlier mistakes, just holding her, letting her empty all her feelings on his rapidly damp shoulder, as more and more tears flowed from her eyes, pain flowing from inside of her and escaping through those tears. He just held her, and tried to convey a sense of comfort and acceptance and most of all, love for her, as they sat there in the dark.
Eventually she quieted and wiped the tears from her face, sighing and sitting up. “Thank you, brother. I… I needed that.” She ran her fingers through her frazzled hair, and bit her lip when she saw how wet his shoulder was. “Uh, sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, Molly. I don't mind, glad I could help.” Harry said with a wry half-grin, and shifted himself so the wet shirt wasn't sticking to his skin quite as much. “Feeling better now?”
“Yeah. I’m… I’m sorry for all that stuff I said, Harry.” Molly looked at him, and he could see she was truly sorry. “I didn't… well I hope you know that I didn't mean to hurt you in any way. I kind of got a bit carried away, didn't mean to hurt your feelings in any way. I hope I didn't?” She had a hopeful expression on her face, one that was tinged with the guilt they were both feeling. For a second, Harry considered lying. But no, that wouldn't be fair.
“Well, honestly, you did a little bit, Molly. But really, you were just expressing what was in your heart, even if I didn't want to hear it very much, or you could have said it in a nicer way.” He barely had time to finish his sentence before Molly practically tackled him, wrapping him in the tightest bear hug of his life.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, her voice quiet but somehow still thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Really, Molly, it’s okay,” he managed to choke out through her embrace.
Apparently that was enough to clue Molly in on how tight her hold was because she immediately released him wearing a sheepish smile. “Um, right. Sorry about that too.”
“No problem, sis,” Harry replied breezily. “Perils of having an Amazon for a sister.”
“Hey! It’s not that easy having a beanpole for a brother either,” she quipped back, her smile turning more relaxed. They stood there for a moment smiling, the bitterness and awkwardness of the past night melting away.
Harry looked around, noticing how light it had become. “Huh? Looks like it’s about morning, sis,” he said, turning back. “And you know what that means?”
“Presents!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.
“Sure, that too,” he responded with a smile and a headshake. “But I meant Christmas. Merry Christmas, sis.”
“Merry Christmas, Harry.”
“So… about those presents?”
“Way ahead of you!” she replied, already heading for the door. He watched his sister head out for a moment, feeling more centered than he had for a long time. It had been a hard and turbulent journey but he felt like he and sister were on the right track again. And, really, that was the greatest gift he could have asked for. He glanced up at the ceiling, imagined looking past it, to the attic, the roof, the sky… and smiled. Then with a happy sigh, he rushed after his sister, eager to join her in unwrapping their presents and the possibilities of a new day.
* * *
Unfortunately, their Christmas haul wasn’t as large or exciting as they had anticipated. He could tell Molly was a little disappointed but she shared his understanding after he suggested that it might have been due to the basement renovations. Transforming the entire basement must have cost a lot of money and, in a sense, was its own Christmas gift to the whole family.
Ron and his brothers soon arrived, joining them in opening presents. Harry and Molly had pooled their savings to get Ron a book on the Crusades and history in general, since he seemed to be interested in it after they had covered it in Professor Binns class. The twins were given their own movie projector, and their new favorite Muggle movie, Ferris Bueller, to play on it. Surprisingly, the Weasleys also had gifts for Harry and Molly, gifts for the entire Carpenter family except baby Daniel, in fact. Their mother had knitted sweaters – which the Weasleys called jumpers – for all of the Carpenters, each one with their initials emblazoned on it.Apparently it was Mrs. Weasley’s way of inducting them into the family – Ron and his brothers were wearing their own jumpers –and thanking them for taking care of her boys during Christmas. They were itchy, loosely-threaded and honestly pretty garish sweaters but were charming in their own way. Everybody loved them and they all wore their sweaters that morning as they enjoyed a Christmas breakfast together.
After that, the rest of the break passed by easily. Harry went through the standard rotes of life at home, helping his Dad sometimes in the shed. Molly mostly spent time in her room studying, but at least she seemed more open with him now. One pleasant discovery was Ron’s chess skills. It all started after Christmas breakfast when Ron suggested some games of chess. Harry had seen Ron playing with others in the common room sometimes so he wasn’t surprised, but he had never paid close attention before. So he was caught unprepared when Ron wiped the floor with him in a few moves. Then even more impressed when he proceeded to do the same to Molly, his father and even his mother, the best in their family. They had decided to call in reinforcements and set Ron against Father Foothill when he joined them in the afternoon, part of his annual Christmas visit. Father Forthill was a formidable chess player, the best they knew, so they were all prepared for Father Forthill to inject some humility back into Ron– he had gotten a bit smug by this point. Alas, it was not meant to be as Ron beat Father Forthill as well in front of a now gobsmacked Carpenter family, although it did take more than a few moves at least. Luckily, Father Forthill himself didn’t seem at all upset at getting crushed by an 11-year-old; he took it in stride and seemed more impressed than anything else. He offered to introduce Ron to some other chess players, which Ron happily accepted, and the next day, they went to the nearby park where the local chess community often gathered. Luckily, it seemed some of them were good enough players to give his friend a challenge and he racked up his first few losses that day. But Ron was apparently also a very quick learner, and he always managed to beat them back. Going to the park soon became a daily fixture for Ron and, though Harry didn’t join him after that first day, Ron was happy to fill him in on the details when he returned. Apparently, Ron had gained a reputation as a chess prodigy, one that increased exponentially after he narrowly beat the local district chess champion, a 32-year-old librarian, in their last few days of break. Soon after, people from all over the district and even beyond came to try their hand against his friend, who had by now regained his winning streak and had become a minor celebrity in their chess community, gaining a bunch of nicknames like ‘the Redhead Terror’, ‘the Brit’ and, Ron’s favorite, ‘the Whizkid’. Ron had even attracted the attention of a local newspaper, which reached out to the Carpenters for an interview, but sadly was unable to schedule a time before they were due back at Hogwarts.
Another interesting development, one that shocked both Harry and his sister, concerned the twins and his mom. To be honest, Harry had been a bit worried about having the twins under the same roof as his Mom. His Mom was a gracious host, but she was also a very strict and orderly person while the twins seemed to be chaos personified. Mom had always punished him and Molly harshly for their mischief, so he couldn’t even imagine what she’d do to Hogwarts’ most notorious troublemakers if they pulled off one of their pranks in the house. Unfortunately, he suspected that trying to warn the twins off would only embolden them to take it as a challenge and he definitely knew that he couldn’t tell his mother to go easy on them. So he was left with no good options but to wait and hope that the twins exercised enough restraint this holiday. It was a losing proposition if he ever heard one, but fortunately the twins seemed content for now with enjoying the basement cinema. His worries seemed to pass just a week after Christmas after a day of ice skating. Ron had already signed up for an important tournament that day and the twins said they wanted to join him for moral support, so it was just Harry and his family that went. He had been skeptical of the twins’ reason, of course, but had figured they wanted a chance for some light-hearted ribbing of their brother.
Big mistake. The moment the Carpenters opened their front door, they were assaulted by a virtual blizzard of whip cream, while giant obnoxious horns blared in the background, ending with a light shower of sparkling glitter. After picking themselves up, the Carpenters looked on to find the twins doubled over laughing and looking very pleased with themselves. Their whip cream and glitter prank turned out to be part of an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine rigged to activate as soon as the front door opened- apparently they had been inspired by some of the movies and shows they had been watching like Home Alone and Tom and Jerry. Harry was admittedly awestruck but was also anxious about his mother’s reaction. She was staring around at the entire room which was a complete mess, littered with whip cream and glitter and covered with pieces of their contraption, her face tight and her eyebrows climbing further up her head the more she surveyed. Harry was certain that a Mom Eruption was imminent and both he and Molly backed away to distance themselves from the fallout and even the twins seemed a bit apprehensive. But, to the surprise of everyone, the eruption never came. Instead, their Mom just sighed and calmly asked the twins to join her in the living room. Things got even more shocking when instead of grounding them for eternity or banning them from the house, she asked them if they were interested in helping her with some projects in the garage. Apparently, his Mom was even more impressed with the twins’ prank than he was – as someone who fixed motorcycles and designed their Dad’s armor and equipment, she could spot the engineering talent behind it. And she thought helping her with her own work would help nurture that talent in “more constructive ways”. The twins didn’t seem to like the bit about constructive ways but they seemed excited by the rest of what she said and quickly agreed. Mom still punished them, of course, and the twins spent the entire day cleaning up their mess including some now very sticky glitter. They looked exhausted by the end of it but they never complained, and woke up early the next morning to join Mom in the garage.
After that, the twins developed an easy relationship with his Mom- Harry wasn’t sure whether he would call it a friendship but there seemed to be a strong sense of respect and congeniality between them based on their shared interest. The twins would take to the garage as often as their brother did to the park, sometimes working with his Mom and sometimes on their own projects (which they had to clear with her first). They still got up to mischief sometimes but they were minor things like swapping the sugar and salt shakers, and showed restraint on their part. His Mom seemed to recognise this for, while she always punished them, her punishments were equally minor and she didn’t seem to hold their infractions against them. For his part, Harry was happy at this state of affairs, recognising it as the best he could have realistically hoped for. Molly had initially been less sanguine. At the meeting, she had grumbled that she hadn’t been given an apprenticeship for any of her pranks - her attitude hadn’t improved after Mom had blithely responded to “do smarter pranks, then.” But she quickly got over it and, after some commiserating with an equally put out Ron when he returned from his tournament (victorious, of course), she soon seemed just as happy as Harry was that a bomb had been avoided. Harry would occasionally come across the twins excitedly whispering to each other in odd corners of the house. He wasn’t able to hear much but the little he did suggested the twins were thinking about how to apply their new skills to future pranks. Harry didn’t think that his Mom would be happy with this use of her knowledge but he also didn’t want to disturb the peace in the house. He just hoped he didn’t get caught in one of their pranks once school resumed. The twins had already proven themselves geniuses with their machine- he couldn’t even imagine what they could make once they were free to use magic.
And then… and then it was over, Christmas break had come to an end and they were once again packing up their trunks and standing in front of the roaring fire, as one after the other the fire flared green. The Weasleys stepped into the fire first, waving goodbye to their parents and thanking them for their stay. Harry gave his Mom and Dad a tearful hug, with Molly joining in, as they said goodbye and promised to write to them. And then, as he stepped into the fire, they were gone. He was back at Hogwarts, his sister by his side.