The Haunting of Mole Hill

Chapter 50: The Haunting of Mole Hill

June 2001

Annie woke as the sun began to peek over the hill behind her house. She gazed out the window for a few minutes, past the still-sleeping form of her husband, as the rosy light crept across the sky. She listened as the symphony of birds waking up in the forest beyond the garden made a slow, gradual crescendo. Soon, her daughter's coos and gurgles added themselves to the morning's song.

George must have heard them, too. He rolled onto his stomach and stretched. "Morning," he mumbled through a yawn.

Annie kissed him, then kicked off the sheet and pushed herself up and out of bed as her husband did the same. George shuffled into the bathroom while Annie headed into the nursery.

Happy. Joyous. Merrie. They were all synonyms and the very definition of George and Annie's baby daughter. Little Molly Meredith had arrived on the heels of the millennium, and as far as Annie could tell, life was nothing but one big, very entertaining party for her daughter. She had begun smiling at two weeks of age and had never stopped. A sweet baby grin, made all the more adorable by the two tiny pearls of teeth peeking out from her lower gum, accompanied by squeals and kicks of excitement, greeted Annie when she entered the nursery.

Annie heard the water turn on in George's shower as she sat with her daughter in the rocking chair. She ran her fingers through Merrie's wispy auburn curls as soft as down, counted for the thousandth time each freckle on her cheek as her daughter nursed contentedly. Annie murmured sweet nothings to the baby, keeping a running commentary of their plans for the day, making her voice sound excited regardless of how utterly mundane they were: laundry, cooking, gardening. Merrie popped herself off the breast every few minutes or so to offer her mother a smile or giggle of encouragement.

By the time Merrie was finished, Annie could hear noises coming from the room next door that sounded suspiciously like bedsprings being bounced upon. She was startled to hear a loud thud, then relieved to hear two identical giggles in stereo. Annie figured as long as no one was hurt, it was probably better if she didn't know what they were doing....

"All right, you monkeys. Time to get the morning started," she heard their father command as he entered their bedroom, now showered and dressed himself. George had nearly always taken on the duty of waking and dressing the children, thereby giving Annie a window of opportunity to shower and prepare for the day.

Annie heard the boys respond by howling and hooting like chimpanzees as well as more thumping-jumping sounds. She put Merrie back in her crib with a kiss and a toy to wait for her father.

Annie took a quick shower and dressed for the warm summer day in jeans and a t-shirt that happened to advertise the brand new Wheezes shop in Hogsmeade, which had opened the previous spring. She skipped downstairs to get breakfast ready for her family with the twins hard on her heels. From upstairs, Annie could hear Merrie erupt with hysterical giggles as her father noisily pretended to gobble her tummy.

"Please can we have pancakes today?" begged Art.

Fred bounced beside him; Annie thought she could detect him nodding in agreement, but it might have just been the exuberant jumping. It pained Annie to say no to him, but Art asked for pancakes every day. "How about tomorrow? I've got berries and yogurt and granola today for breakfast sundaes."

"Okay," Art sighed disappointedly.

Annie tousled his curly red hair and turned away from her son to put the kettle on. Then she opened the cabinet door that housed her dishes and began pulling out what was needed for breakfast. She owned an impressive collection of antique mechanical kitchen gadgets, amassed over the last few years, all in working order and used frequently. Her favorite, as well as that of her children, was the hand-cranked apple peeler, followed closely by her Gran's old cowbell-shaped grater.

In addition, she had three Muggle appliances in her house: a stove, refrigerator, and clothes washer. They weren't the only things that ran on electricity in her home, but they were the only ones that remained permanently plugged in. For instance, the television in her bedroom was only plugged in while it was being watched. So far, they had not yet had a power surge strong enough to damage the major appliances beyond repair – though they'd run through several lamps and a small radio – but Annie predicted it would only be a matter of time, considering the twins.

Annie had wondered what it would be like to live without electricity back when she and George were dating and contemplating their future together. She remembered being worried she would struggle to do without it. Annie laughed now at how little she missed blenders, vacuums, and coffeemakers. She imagined her life might be very much what it was like for her grandmother as a child – except for being surrounded by people performing magic, of course.

Annie placed dishes, utensils, and food on the table as George carried Merrie down the stairs. She helped the boys assemble their messy (but for the most part healthy) breakfasts, then began spooning yogurt and baby cereal into Merrie's ever-smiling mouth. George tended to the whistling kettle on the stove and began to make coffee in the press pot.

They chatted casually over the noise of the children about the day to come. Today George was due to visit the little factory building that housed his manufacturing floor as well as handled all the mail order business. He would be reviewing new orders and observing the machines he had invented last summer to mass produce the Skiving Snackbox components. He never failed to find something to tinker with or improve upon each time.

"How about you?" he asked, sipping some coffee.

"Same old. Your mum is coming over for a magic lesson this morning, so the boys will be thrilled."

George gave her a crooked, half-smile. She knew part of him was enormously pleased and proud of his precocious twin sons and their burgeoning magical gifts. But another, only slightly smaller part was clearly nervous about leaving his Muggle wife alone all day with so much uncontrolled magical ability. The possibilities for accidents – dangerous ones, even – were enough to make him uncomfortable. Annie suspected this was why Molly spent so much time at Mole Hill during the weekdays, per her husband's "secret" request. The entire family was focusing their combined efforts on teaching the two-and-a-half-year-old twins the necessity of control.

Her thoughts were interrupted by green flames flaring in the fireplace.

"Teddy!" cried the twins in unison as they leaped off their chairs and dashed toward the living room to greet their best friend.

"Morning, Andromeda," George called out, downing the last of his cup as Annie began clearing the table.

"Morning, George," Andromeda Tonks answered with a pleasant smile on her face.

"Cup of coffee?" offered Annie.

She had quickly grown to like the kind, sad woman who brought Teddy to her house each day. Her story was so tragic: losing her daughter, son-in-law, and husband, all within such a short period. But then again, whose isn't? One was hard pressed these days to find anyone who hadn't lost a loved one during the Second War.

"Not today, Annie," the much older lady replied. "I want to get an early start so I can knock off a bit early this afternoon."

"Another time, then," Annie said, smiling as she watched Teddy say goodbye to his grandmother.

Little Teddy Lupin held a special place in Annie's heart, and not just because he was her sons' favorite playmate. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents, what it was like to be raised by a doting grandmother. She was finding herself becoming rather attached to the funny, sweet little fellow who looked a little different from moment to moment.

"I'd best be going as well," George said as Andromeda stepped into the fireplace and vanished. He squatted down next to Merrie's high chair and tickled her cheek with his nose. She rewarded him by grabbing hold of his lone ear and bestowing a slobbery, yogurt-sticky kiss on his nose, which he graciously thanked her for before he stood and wiped the mess off his face.

Laughing, Annie pulled Merrie out of her seat and followed George to the fireplace.

"Be good and listen to your mum, boys," he shouted at the twins as they were sprinting around the furniture, chasing after Teddy, who had a miniature elephant's trunk for a nose at the moment.

They neither paused in their game nor acknowledged their father as they continued playing.

Annie giggled as she set Merrie down in the playpen. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands, entertained by the older boys' antics.

"I'll see you later," George said as he laced his arms around Annie.

"I'll be here. Can't speak for the house, though," she teased, doing the same.

"At least you listen to me," he chuckled as the boys tore up the stairs, making a thunderous amount of noise as they did so.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" Annie teased.

He smirked. "Oh, you're a riot."

"Have a good day," she giggled and kissed him goodbye.

The fireplace flared again mid-kiss, and a familiar voice called out a familiar greeting. "Get a room, you two," teased Lee, like always, as he stepped out of the fire with his eight-month-old daughter in his arms.

"It's my damn house, git!" cried George in response, like always.

"Good morning, Lee," Annie smiled as he handed his daughter, Roxanne, off to her. Roxanne Jordan was a beautiful, chubby, happy baby with dark brown skin, eyes, and hair. Annie made a silly face at her, and little Roxy beamed a smile.

"Hello, Annie," Lee replied. He tickled under Roxy's chin with his finger, then gave her nose a light tap. "And goodbye to the prettiest little girl in the world," he cooed, planting a kiss on his smiling daughter's forehead.

George harrumphed. "One of the prettiest little girls in the world," he corrected his friend good-naturedly.

"Yes, yes – Merrie is pretty, too," sighed Lee, winking conspiratorially at his own daughter. He handed Annie a small satchel containing Roxy's bottles and diapers for the day.

"After you," George said, holding out the canister filled with Floo powder for his best mate, Lee. The two men left, one after the other, to their separate destinations.

Lee was off to work at the WWN – Wizarding Wireless Network – as a radio announcer. He had gotten the job there immediately after the war, once the network bigwigs had all been imprisoned for supporting and/or colluding with Voldemort's regime. His wife, Angelina, currently worked for the Ministry in the Magical Transportation Department. She had discovered during the war that she'd had a talent for bewitching Portkeys, a skill that had served the Order well. Annie reckoned her friend was something akin to a Muggle travel agent now, enchanting spoons and tin cans to transport wizards all over the globe for business or pleasure.

Annie set Roxy down in the playpen next to Merrie, and the babies excitedly greeted each other with screeches and drool-bubbles. It pleased Annie that the two baby girls appeared to be as good friends as their mothers and fathers were. Once the boys were safely outdoors with Molly, she would let the girls loose to crawl around on the floor.

Meanwhile, she started a load of diapers in the washing machine and began to make a grocery list. Tomorrow, on Saturday, she would drive into the preferred anonymity of Exeter – for she avoided Ottery except in emergencies – to do the marketing. George would give her the entire morning for it, and she often spent an hour or so online at the library, catching up with Muggle culture. She would read up on the news of the world she used to live in, keep in touch with Jane via a weekly email update, and search the web for interesting tidbits regarding music or movies that she and George might enjoy on a rare night out.

The boys had finally tired of chasing each other around at breakneck speed and flopped down on the sofa together, catching their breaths.

"When is Vickie coming back?" asked Teddy.

"She's at home with her mummy and new baby sister, love," Annie explained. "She'll be back at the end of the summer, I expect."

Teddy nodded, accepting her explanation, having nothing further to add himself.

The twins' cousin, Victoire, just turned two-years-old, had been missing from Annie's house for more than a month now. Fleur had just delivered her youngest – another daughter named Dominique – and was keeping her elder daughter at home as well while on temporary leave from the bank. Annie had been rather shocked that the goblins at Gringotts would subscribe to such an enlightened notion as maternity leave, but there you have it.

She was slightly surprised that the girl's absence was even noted by any of the boys. Victoire had always been such a quiet, aloof child. Delicate, fair, and stunningly beautiful, she seemed to have difficulty at times finding ways to interact socially with the other children. Sometimes she would tag along after the boys but never said much. Very rarely would she spend time with the infants. Most often she would play quietly by herself, seeming happiest when coloring or painting. Already her niece was a brooding artist, Annie reckoned.

The summer day was fine, and every door and window of the house had been thrown wide open by mid-morning. The baby girls were contented with dozing together in a playpen set in the shade of a small umbrella while Annie hung out the wash on the line and did a bit of gardening. She could hear Molly and the boys off in the distance, playing on a tire swing suspended from an enormous oak tree on the perimeter of the forest.

She planted another round of lettuce, spinach, and chives, just like Gran had taught her, in order to have a steady supply throughout the summer. She checked on the strawberries and discovered they'd be ready soon for jam. George would be pleased by that news, she mused – it was one of his favorites.

The morning passed as lazy summer days do. She brought the girls inside once they woke from their morning nap and played on the floor with them, letting them crawl around after each other. They were playing hide-the-toy-under-a-burp-cloth when Molly finally delivered the boys back into the house after their magic lesson for lunch. Annie let the boys have a picnic of sandwiches outside with their Granny before Molly left to go home to the Burrow.

The afternoon was growing quite warm, and all the children retreated into the cool of the house to lie down for a nap. Annie worked for a bit around the house: doing dishes, some prep work for their afternoon snacks and supper, folding the laundry. Once all the normal, non-magical domestic chores were done, it was time for a few quick jobs in "Daddy's dungeon," as it had been christened by the twins.

She placed her hand against a small, mirrored panel affixed to the door behind the fireplace that led down to George's workshop. Both she and George had agreed upon the necessity of preventing the children from straying down there at all costs. He had been inspired by an article on biometrics in a Muggle technology magazine to enchant a special locking mechanism that would recognize Annie's handprint – but no one else's – and permit her to bypass the magical spell otherwise necessary to open it. She crept silently down the stairs, flashlight in hand.

George's workshop was almost completely underground. Just below the thick, bunker-like concrete ceiling (necessary to shield the rest of the house from the interfering effects of all the magic performed here) were three small windows that were positioned just above ground level, allowing light in and, oftentimes, billowing smoke from a spell or potion gone awry to escape.

Even though she came down here at least once a day, she still marveled at the magic surrounding her in this place. Plants that wriggled in their pots were arranged beneath bewitched grow-lights. Cauldrons and scales littered one section of countertop, above which hung a glass-doored cabinet containing jars and vials of various magical ingredients, many of them looking more than slightly grotesque. Another area nearby held a disorderly collection of recycled coffee cans and plastic yogurt cups repurposed to hold the various bits and pieces of metal, wood, and glass George used for his inventions. Several notebooks lay open on a desk with quills in various states of brokenness – George was the sort of person (if he had been a Muggle, that is) who would continue to use a pencil until it had no eraser and was only two inches long.

On the desk she found a note addressed to her.

Igor – I already watered the plants today. Love, Dr. F.

Annie giggled. She had teased George once that he was like Dr. Frankenstein, laboring away down here in his secret laboratory on monstrous things that were an affront to nature. He'd had no clue, of course, what she was talking about until she had rented Mel Brooks' version of the movie. He'd been highly entertained by the comical story and persisted ever after in calling her his very own Igor.

Since he had already taken care of one of her daily tasks, the only thing left to her now was to water and feed the breeding pairs of Pygmy Puffs. She filled the little food dishes with the table scraps she'd carried down with her (Who needed a disposal – or tissues, for that matter – when you had puffskeins? she mused.) and they began to hum pleasantly as their long tongues snaked out from unseen orifices.

Back upstairs, she figured it was pointless to do much straightening up of toys since the boys still had hours of playing to do yet and decided to save the task for after supper. Instead, she sat down on the sofa for a few minutes, sipping a cup of tea and gazing out the window at the meadow. The busy-ness of the day conspired with the warmth of the weather to cause a sinking spell. She closed her eyes, telling herself it was just for a moment....

Annie heard a familiar chuckle in her ear. Aren't you the good little wife? Did you always aspire to live in the 1800s?

"Shut up, Fred. I'm very happy, thank you very much," she whispered back, screwing her eyes shut. She knew from experience that his voice would leave her if she opened them. She also knew, with similar confidence, that there was nothing to see.

I can tell, and that's what slays me! All those times you used to argue with me, calling me sexist... and here you sit, the furthest thing from a liberated woman I can see. You were just pretending to be a modern girl all those years.

"You're just jealous," she said softly, smiling. It was so good to hear his voice once more!

Of you!? he spluttered. D'you think I'd be sitting here, surrounded by a litter of sniveling, snotty brats all day long if I were you?

"If you had half a brain, yes. How is this any different from heaven?" she argued.

She heard him snort in response, and it nearly made her laugh out loud. Nice try, git. You'll just have to wait and see.... I'm not telling you.

Annie heard another sound – from her own dimension this time. Reality was intruding once more. "That's little Fred starting to wake up," she mumbled, recognizing the signature bounce of little feet. She knew her time with Fred's ghost, or whatever it was she was communing with at the moment, was short now.

I suppose you think I'm touched by that – how you named your son after his glorious uncle?

"We miss you. It still wrecks him, you know: that you're gone and he's here," she whispered. It was true. Survivor's guilt – that's what it was called. Just one of the aspects of hurt George was still struggling with. Not that George necessarily wished he had been the one to die – just that he would have preferred for Fred to have lived.

I know. I miss you, too. And you're right.... I am jealous... and touched.

"Don't go!" she begged, but it was too late. She could already hear his voice was fading. She felt the barest, imaginary pressure of a kiss on her forehead.

Catch you later, idiot.

Annie sighed and opened her eyes. It wasn't the first time, and she confessed to herself that she hoped it wouldn't be the last. It happened every once in a while when she was alone, and quiet, and drowsy: her maternal-hormone-soaked, over-worked, and under-rested brain would misfire, causing her imagination to conjure up her lost friend. Fred would come to her in her mind, for a few minutes at most, and typically launch into a volley of teasing insults – Why couldn't he share any profound universal wisdom or investment tips? She never told George about it, for what purpose would it serve him to know his wife was cracking up, she reasoned.

Little Fred clambered silently up onto the sofa with her, placing a book in her lap.

"Would you like to read Pooh with me?" she asked tenderly.

Fred nodded, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and leaned against her. While Annie was reading the book to her son, the other two boys woke up and made their way downstairs to join them. The three little children all snuggled up to her as she told the story of the imaginary stuffed-animal toys come to life.

The rest of the day played out like a script. Andromeda and Angelina both arrived late in the afternoon to collect their children. George came home soon after, and Annie made supper. Her little family played together outside in the garden in the late summer twilight, then George took the kids upstairs and plopped them in the tub. They operated on the theory that by bathing them at night, their bodies would stay clean for a stretch of nearly twelve hours – an impossible feat otherwise. Afterward, Annie nursed Merrie to sleep while George read bedtime stories to the boys.

Some time later, George and Annie sat outside together in the dark, watching fireflies and fairies blinking across the meadow, talking quietly about the day just finished. Annie shared a few tales of funny things the boys had done or said, of Merrie's latest developmental accomplishment. George told her about his plans for a new product he was developing: two-way parchment, inspired by a fax machine he saw one day recently at the Muggle pediatrician's office.

"What should we get for Ginny and Harry? The wedding's only two weeks away now," asked Annie.

"How about a gross of condoms?" joked George.

"Could you be serious for a moment?" she laughed.

"What newlywed couple wouldn't think that a dead useful gift?" he countered.

"Are you saying you regret the circumstances of your own sons' conception?" she teased him. They had only been married for a few weeks before she had gotten pregnant with the twins, after all.

"Perish the thought!" he chuckled. "Nothing could be further from the truth!" He reached out for her hand and laced their fingers together.

"Not to mention such a gift is tantamount to acknowledging, if not outright condoning, the fact that the great and heroic Harry Potter will be imminently deflowering your precious baby sister," she argued.

"That's quite enough of that," he warned her, his tone suddenly shifting from playful to irritated.

"Assuming he hasn't done the deed already, of course..." Annie needled him.

"I'm warning you to shut up now," he said, standing up, stepping next to her chair, and looming threateningly over her.

"Which is a pretty asinine assumption," she couldn't resist adding, knowing Ginny as well as she did. She couldn't clearly see George's face in the dark, but accurately predicted it was scowling at her.

"Now you've done it," he said. Spinning around, he sat rudely on top of her, squashing her into the seat.

"Are you saying I was wrong to succumb to your very persistent charms back then?" she said, finding it hard to breathe as he crushed her into the wooden slats by leaning backward.

"Not at all. No one blames you for being unable to say no to this," he teased, indicating himself. "Least of all me."

"So, it was all right for me to relinquish my virginity before marriage, but not for Ginny?" she gasped but refused to cry uncle.

"She's my sister, moron," he explained. He wiggled himself a bit, grinding her backside into the chair to punish her for overtly mentioning the subject of Ginny's sex life in his presence.

Annie hoped the poor chair wouldn't bust into pieces with the two of them in it. "Mine as well," she pointed out. She had long since abandoned any distinction between her blood relatives, of which there were none left besides her children, and her in-laws, of which there were multitudes. They were Weasleys one and all – end of story.

"We knew we were going to be together forever, anyway," he rationalized.

"And how many years have Ginny and Harry been dating exclusively now?" she asked, knowing the answer was nearly as long as she and George had been together.

"It's a completely different situation," he protested.

"I suppose you're just lucky I didn't have a big brother threatening to avenge the loss of my innocence," she countered.

"Your innocence?" he cried, snorting. "I think it was rather the other way around, don't you?"

George grunted in pain from the pinch that landed on his waist, then grabbed both her hands to prevent further retaliation on her part. They sat in silence, at an impasse, for a whole minute.

"So, we'll get them the same thing we got for Ron and Hermione?" Annie asked. Her legs were beginning to go numb.

"A set of never-boil-over pots and pans sounds perfect," George nodded as he stood up once more. "I'll pick them up at Cauldrons, Kitchens & More after work one day next week. Time for bed?" he asked.

"Just give me a minute," she replied, stalling until the feeling returned in her legs.

Impatiently, George took her hands and hauled her up to a standing position. Annie's left leg buckled as she tried to put a bit of weight on it, due to the fact no blood had entered or left it for the last five minutes. He caught her before she hit the ground, understanding immediately what was going on.

He laughed and shook his head. "You are more stubborn than a mule," he teased her.

"Yeah, well, you are an arse," she teased back.

"Takes one to know one," he argued, lifting her up and carrying her toward the house.

"I happen to know you are very enamored with my arse," she shot back. "And have been for ages. Cheeky bum-lover."

"It's inarguably your best feature, love," he taunted as they crossed the threshold. "Followed closely by your...."

Annie clamped her hand over his mouth as he mumbled something lewd. "I suppose you think sweet talk like that might get you laid tonight," she whispered as he closed and locked the doors and windows with a silent command.

"Unless you think you've got the moral fiber to say no," he countered, eyebrow cocked, daring her to contradict him.

"I never have, have I?" she admitted, giggling as he kissed her.