Molly Weasley felt an odd surge in her magic. It was vague and wistful, a hint of remembered warmth. She touched her hand to her throat. She could feel Arthur beside her. She knew her children were all well, even Fred, which was a miracle.
"I've been angry for so long." She gasped and dropped to her hand to her knees. "None of it was fair. I lost my parents and my brothers. My son was killed. I wasn't strong enough to protect them."
"You weren't meant for such magic." A feminine voice filled her mind. "You are fierce and loving. You are a witch of great power, but your faith does not sustain you. Follow the call of your soul. Let faith guide you. You might find that which was lost."
"Molly." Arthur shook her shoulder gently. "Are you alright?"
She blinked and struggled for an answer to her husband's worried query. How was she supposed to explain this sensation? What was she supposed to do?
"I want to go home, Arthur." Molly leaned into her husband's warm body. Chasing after Hermione Granger to stop her from doing something to hurt Ronald made no sense. "I want to go home."
"Of course." He nodded and patted her shoulder. "I'll just let the others know."
Molly nodded and watched her husband go. He'd been so very understanding. She felt a bit guilty that she didn't offer up her appreciation to him more often. She'd come to accept his devotion as her due, but was it.
An odd shiver took her body as her magic pressed at her again. It was oddly disconcerting to feel her magic acting almost separately from her. She remembered her father explaining that magic was both a part of her and made her a part of something greater. "Some wizards and witches, those that reject their connections to the world, they find themselves in a swirl of negativity. They act on it, they feed it. Eventually, they wind up alone." Her father's voice seemed to swell from within her. "That's why we honor our connection to the world and to magic."
Molly shook. Her whole body quaked. Her magic swelled and she had to fight the urge to repress it. She'd cut herself off. She'd become bitter and difficult. Goddess above, she'd driven her family half mad with her behavior.
She looked anxiously for Arthur, but he was probably still trying to soothe all the feathers she'd ruffled. Loving her had made his life difficult. The pull of her magic was getting stronger. She was having a hard time resisting it. like an itch under her skin, it plagued her. She stood up and began to pace. A sense of urgency took hold of her.
"Arthur will know where I am." She twisted around and spun herself toward home, trusting her magic to see her safely there.
Hermione stared at the elf that was trying to lure her into a particularly plush chair on one of the many terraced gardens. Gideon and Fabian were off with the other five, inspecting the property. The elves were so happy to be home, to have a proper family again. It wasn't as if she was still the deluded child she had been, but she'd never really understood elves.
"If you sits, I will bring you the goods tea for babies." The elf smiled at her. "You needs to be taken cares of. The Prewett family will grows strong agains. Yes, you sits."
"Tea for babies?" Hermione planted her hand over her abdomen. "I can't be pregnant yet. We just..."
She broke off talking and looked at the elf. It smiled and patted the seat. She felt like a bit like a recalcitrant child.
"Am I pregnant?" She sat and looked at the elf. "How can you tell?"
"We is back." The elf looked around them. "We comes home when the Prewett magic called out to us. It means there be new life in you. The Masters have found home again, too. You is a good witch for them, but no giving clothes for us. Okay?"
"I will not be denied, my dear." The Morrighan stepped fully formed from the shadows. "My crows have a destiny with you. You've spent far too long seeing yourself as lesser. You are a remarkable witch. You will be a remarkable wife and mother."
"I still have to win over Molly and Ron." Hermione pressed a hand flat to her stomach. "They won't be happy."
"I do not much care if they are." The goddess smiled and stroked her hand along the garden wall restoring it and adding a series of Celtic designs that anchored wards and protections to the building. "Happiness is not what I require. I want them to accept your place."
"I can work with that." Hermione grinned. "I can challenge them, if nothing else."
"Forced compliance does have its place." The Morrighan smiled and her teeth appeared sharp and ragged in the moonlight before smoothing again into a more human appearance. "Will you keep faith with me?"
Hermione watched as the black feathers that seemed to form her companion's gown fluttered in the breeze. Time slowed and seemed to flow around them. There was something vital in this moment, something she knew was just outside of her understanding. She pressed her hand against her stomach again.
"Many avoid me. They see me as evil or dark." The goddess shrugged and traced her finger along a vine. It withered for a moment and then burst forth with life, sprouting trumpet shaped flowers with black tips and purple throats. "I didn't give my magic over to the world in hopes of seeing its return. I waited. I watched. The others clamored to bring more."
"More isn't always for the best." Hermione scrunched up her nose. "I can understand waiting."
"It is odd to stand here, knowing my plans are nigh complete." Her feathers flowed out into a silk dress as she turned. "I saw your heart, your mind. I knew you were the right choice."
Gideon flicked his wand and glared at the stone work over the mantle. Restoring the original Tudor era sections of the house was more complicated. The spells used in the original house had been adapted from French and Spanish. They didn't want to comply with his Latin or Gallic.
"It's perfect." Fabian sent a stinger at his buttock. "Stop fussing. We need to get at least some of this place livable."
"It's structurally sound." Gideon looked around the room. "What if she doesn't like it?"
"Then we will redecorate or rip it all down and start over." Fabian smiled. "We are wizards."
"We don't have much to offer her. We will spend the next few years reestablishing this house. It's a lot of work." Gideon frowned. "She could do better."
"She chose us." Fabian grabbed his shoulder. "She stepped into the flames. She made the choice."
Molly stared at the gates. She had come to this road hundreds of times since her family had died. The moors had stretched as far as the eye could see. an occasional sheep walked by, but the gates, in all their glorious forms, had always been missing. she looked beyond the metal image of two crows perched on a tree.
Her childhood home had not graced the horizon in years. Not even the image of a defunct abbey that muggles saw had been present. She smiled as the trees shifted and the stone of her first home caught her eye.
She felt a swirl of wild hope surge inside her. The five steps toward the gate seemed to encompass miles. Her magic bounced around within her. It was out of control.
She clenched her teeth and reached out to touch the wrought iron.
"Missy Molly has come for a visit?" An elf smiled at her. "The masters are most busy. The house must be renewed, but you may visit."
The gate swung open, and Molly brushed back tears as she stepped onto the land that had nourished her soul and her magic before she had married. She dragged a deep breath into her lungs. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist. The years of feeling rootless were over.
The image of a young witch with wild hair standing in her kitchen offering to help her rose in her mind. Hermione Granger. She licked her lips. The girl had been difficult and determined. She kept odd company. Ronald had never been able to coax her into the circle, though he didn't try very hard. She thought of that young girl and remembered that she was kind and intelligent.
Molly opened her eyes and looked down the lane.
It was time for new beginnings.