Author: Reiko Katsura
Summary: While chasing monsters, sometimes you become one.
Word Count: ~660
Warnings: Dark, Character Deaths, Insane!Arthur, Unbeta'd.
Prompt: This was written for round three of deatheaterdrabs . The prompt was "Evil Weasleys" along with a choice of picture or quote prompt. I chose the quote: "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."—Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil.
Author's notes: I enjoyed the quoted prompt very much. It was fun, and a bit refreshing, to write about a character I hardly ever think about. It was even more fun that he was a bit 'round the bend. The drabble didn't turn out exactly as I imagined it to, but it kind of came close. I wanted in Arthur's head a little bit, and so I went.
Arthur Weasley petted the pale, lifeless hand of his wife twice before moving on to stroke her orange, blood coated hair. Of all his family, she was the one whom he was saddest to see go the most. He couldn't quite tear his eyes away from her face—white lips parted and beautiful brown eyes nearly swallowed whole by the surrounding white. He continued to run his fingers through her hair, uncaring that her blood was seeping through the fabric of his cloak, and reluctantly looked away to glance around the room gravely.
His children—his five remaining boys, single daughter—lay tangled in awkward heaps throughout their living room floor, resting over conflated blood and tangled wands. The stench of blood, the stench of death, filled the air with a pungent smell. Arthur refrained from clamping his hand over his nose and allowed himself to inhale his doing. His sacrifices.
He'd done it for them. For their safety. After the loss of Fred, things had never been the same for them. The fear of losing another member of their family had shadowed them like a brume; arising overwhelmingly when word from one had been too long. And then Arthur had been appointed Head of the Auror Department, a position recommended by the Minister of Magic he couldn't have refused, and things had gotten worse. He'd seen first hand, chasing Dark Wizard after Dark Wizard, how fragile people's lives were, and how little others considered them. He'd seen, on every case, how easy it was to lose family, and how often it actually occurred.
He was a good Auror, a dedicated one, and more than once he had nearly paid for it dearly. Friends, lovers, and relatives of those who had been sent to Azkaban were always waiting for him, prepared to avenge the death or arrest or eternal-damnation of their criminal loved ones. And when getting to Arthur proved to be too difficult, they began targeting others—his family, namely, and sometimes his friends. But it was always his family who were in real danger: always them who'd be attacked in the shadows of Diagon Alley; always them who'd be jinxed off aerial broom. And the longer Arthur fought to catch those who would do them harm, the larger the number of those who sought it increased, and the more targeted the members of his family became.
Yes, Arthur had killed them to save them. He had to shield them from the monsters who tried to hurt them, keep them from the darkness that stalked their heels. They hadn't understood, when he'd explained, after casting securing wards on the Burrow that only the Head of the Auror department would ever know to cast. They hadn't comprehended even after Arthur had murdered his first born son. They'd fought him, they'd cursed him, they'd pleaded with him to put down his wand—but he hadn't. He knew, more than they ever would, the dangers that lurked outside the burrow walls. He, and only he, was aware of the blessing he'd given them.
No longer did they have to walk outside with their wands clutched in their hands. No longer did they have to watch their backs, weary of stray curses and spells.
Arthur had done them a good deed, indeed.
He'd protected them, as he promised he would, so that no one would ever be able to hurt them. He'd protected them as only the head of their house could.
Arthur continued to pet his wife's hair, stroking the ends of the red and damp curls. He took another leveled glance around the room, saw his family who would never again be in danger of being harmed, and smiled—
and sighed in relief.
Tomorrow he'd deal with their bodies and the questions that would undoubtedly arise. But today, he decided, he would allow himself to bask in the knowledge that no one, no matter how dark, would ever hurt his family again.
A/N: Hope you liked this bit of creepiness ;)