Molly Weasley was concerned.

She wasn’t one of those overprotective mothers who worried and fretted over her children. Her two eldest sons had chosen particularly dangerous careers, and she’d respected their wishes - after a while, anyway. It was her prerogative to wish they’d gone into something a little… safer… than breaking into magically-trapped tombs or taking care of wild dragons. But still, after some convincing… and tears… she respected their wishes.

She tried to talk them out of it no more than once a year.

Still, it was another matter entirely when her youngest children were behaving oddly. Ronald and Ginevra were still practically babies.

At first it had been her daughter, and all those letters. She wasn’t opposed to her having a quill-pal. She was proud of her for helping that strange boy in the ragged clothes through the barrier. It was a shock later to find out he was the famous Boy Who Lived. She hadn’t met the Potters but a few times before that awful night. She knew Arthur had done some things with James to help the Order, but as a rule he didn’t discuss very much about those missions. It was enough to know they were dangerous. Still, she knew they were from a wealthy family, and she couldn’t understand why the boy looked so underfed and poorly cared for.

As they left King’s Cross, she noticed her daughter wouldn’t meet her eyes, and was blushing. She didn’t have to be a seer to recognize a crush when she saw one. She hoped her daughter wasn’t too let down when it was over, but it seemed to be an essential part of becoming a woman, so she didn’t worry too much.

Ginny had been very quiet during their journey home, and went to bed early after dinner. After washing up, Molly went upstairs to make sure her daughter wasn’t coming down with something. Long experience at being a mother gave her the habit of listening at the door before knocking. That had proven to be an exceptionally good idea when dealing with the twins.

Molly thought she could make out some quiet sobbing, mixed with some words. "…gone for a year…" She must be missing her brother already. "…I’m here all alone…" I’ll have to make sure we have some girl-time this year. "…but he did say I was p-pretty…" Molly frowned.

When she knocked, the sound completely cut off. "Are you all right, dear?"

"Y-yes Mum," her daughter’s voice couldn’t hide a quaver.

"If you have trouble sleeping, I can heat up some milk with cinnamon for you," Molly offered. It worked like a charm when Ginny was teething.

"That’s all right, Mum. I’m just a little tired. I shouldn’t have any trouble."

"All right, dear. Just let me know if you need anything," Molly said.

After that her daughter was quiet, though she did have a tendency to mope about the house. Molly did her best to try and cheer her up, but Ginny didn’t seem to enjoy cooking nearly as much as eating, and the knitting had been a disaster. Molly wouldn’t have minded a bit of help making the Weasley jumpers this year, bit it soon became clear that her daughter had neither the patience nor the skill needed. When Ginny became so frustrated that a burst of accidental magic set her yarn on fire, Molly suggested they take a little break.

A few days later, a snowy white owl fluttered through the window and settled on the kitchen table. It didn’t look like a regular postal owl, and Molly wondered where she’d seen one like that before. When she reached for the thick packet of parchment tied to its leg, the owl snapped its beak at her and hopped backwards, flapping its wings in annoyance. She was wondering if the owl had got lost or misdirected when Ginny came down the stairs.

"Morning, mum," she yawned. "I- oh!" was all she said before she dashed up to the table. The owl docilely allowed her to remove the letter. Ginny looked around and saw the plate full of bacon that Molly had just fried. "Can I give a piece to the owl, Mum?"

Molly just nodded, a little dumbfounded, as the owl delicately accepted the treat from her daughter. It gave a soft hoot and flew up to the perch beside Errol. The ancient Weasley family owl just turned its head to look at the newcomer and then closed its eyes again.

Molly watched her daughter surreptitiously through the morning meal. Ginny ate with one hand; her attention fully focused on the letter in her other hand. She was about to say something when Ginny started asking her about doing laundry.

Finally, Ginny explained that the boy she’d met at King’s Cross had asked if he could write her and ask questions about how wizards did things. Molly was a little dumbfounded that the Boy Who Lived was left to be raised by Muggles and kept ignorant of magic all of his life, but she supposed there was a good reason. She wondered aloud why he needed such a long letter to ask a few questions. Ginny blushed and said he promised to tell her all about what he was doing at Hogwarts so she’d know what to expect next year.

Molly felt a stab of sympathy. Ginny had been heartbroken when she realized she would have to wait a year longer than her brother before she could go to Hogwarts as well. Molly was the youngest of her siblings, so she knew how it felt to be left behind by her brothers. She sighed. Gideon and Fabian were still an open wound for her. Every so often, her thoughts would bump into it and reopen the sense of loss. There was nothing to do at that point except hug her daughter and help her find some parchment.

That began a curious correspondence that became as frequent as twice a week. Hedwig, as she learned the owl to be named, was a frequent guest at The Burrow. Ginny had never been overly studious in her lessons before, so Molly was surprised by how diligently she worked on her letters to Harry. Molly was amused that the domestic charms lessons her daughter had frequently drowsed through were now of vital interest to her little girl. Between answering her questions and Harry’s questions, Molly found herself explaining things in far greater detail than she anticipated. She also deduced from Harry’s questions that he was an extremely intelligent young man.

Ginny didn’t talk directly about what she read in those letters, and Molly would not violate her privacy by reading them without her knowledge. Well, she did consider it, but she knew her daughter would be both crushed and angry if she found out. They both missed the boys, for various reasons, and Molly had no desire to spoil things between the only two people in the house for most of the day.

Her daughter did, however, ask her a lot of questions that weren’t directly related to domestic magic. From these, Molly got the impression that she was worried about Harry. Ginny didn’t think the Muggles Harry lived with were very good people. While Molly wasn’t as enthusiastic a student of Muggle customs as her husband, she didn’t think it was as bad as her daughter implied.

On the other hand, the name Malfoy rang all sorts of warning bells. Arthur Weasley was a very easy-going man, as friendly and forgiving as he was courageous, and Molly loved him for it. But if her husband could be said to hate anyone, then Lucius Malfoy would be the top candidate for that position. Molly couldn’t forget the speculation that the Malfoys had been involved in the raid that led to her brothers’ deaths. Antonin Dolohov had at least been captured and sent to Azkaban for leading the raid. The Malfoy influence and money, on the other hand, allowed them to escape justice after Voldemort’s disappearance.

Molly knew the Malfoy heir would be around the appropriate age to be starting Hogwarts. Apparently Draco was more than willing to follow in his father’s footsteps, and Harry and Ron had more than one run-in with the boy. Molly didn’t say anything, but Ginny apparently picked up on her tension.

Ronald was a good boy, but he wasn’t much of a letter writer, and his brief notes hadn’t mentioned any trouble at school. Ginny ended up reassuring her that Ron had made friends with Harry, along with the Longbottom boy and a Muggle-born witch. The four of them had some trouble with Draco and his friends, but it hadn’t been too serious.

Her worries about her youngest boy got a lot stronger after she received a Floo call on Halloween. Arthur always worked late on Halloween, often up all night with his co-workers in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, reversing the often-malicious pranks played on Muggles this night.

So she was alone, just putting away some dishes after dinner, when her fire turned green and she heard Professor McGonagall’s voice. Ron and his friends had got into a battle with a mountain troll that had broken into the castle. Molly was quite convinced that her heart would stop in that instant. When Professor McGonagall assured her that her son was unharmed, she was finally able to move her feet again. She locked the kitchen door and quickly Flooed to Hogwarts.

Ron barely responded as she berated him in the professor’s office. She couldn’t believe how foolish and reckless he was. A troll that size could have crushed his skull in a heartbeat. Usually, her lectures had her boys red-faced and apologetic within minutes, but instead he seemed distracted, staring off into the corner and barely acknowledging her presence.

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Finally, she took him by the shoulders and turned him to face her directly. "What is wrong with you, Ron?" she asked.

He looked her in the eye and shuddered. "Mum, I know you’re mad, but if I hadn’t been there… Harry and Hermione might have died. Harry almost did anyway…" In her youngest son’s sapphire blue eyes she saw the same fear of losing people that she’d lived with since the war. Any anger she had at that point evaporated and she hugged him fiercely.

She wasn’t surprised to later learn that Draco and his friends had precipitated that disaster... Though the crudity of their comments made her blush almost as much as Ron when she asked him what they said. She smoothed down her son’s hair and told him it was very admirable to stick up for one’s friends… but it was better to do it using your head than your heart. Ron grunted and said Harry told him much the same thing.

When she thanked Professor McGonagall for the use of her office, Molly was surprised to learn that no punishments were to be given out. Harry led his friends to the third floor, but he more than paid the price with his injury. The Gryffindor head of house felt more inclined to grant points for their defence of another student, but she didn’t want to encourage foolhardy behaviour in others. There was also the matter of the Slytherin head of house refusing to punish his students for ‘idle social gossip’, no matter how deliberately hurtful.

Molly was still disgruntled by that last revelation when she Flooed home. No sooner had she opened the kitchen door than Ginny fell against her, sobbing wildly.

"Are they all right? Why didn’t you let me come?" she cried.

"I’m sorry dear. But if you heard then you know Ron is all right."

"I know that!" she snapped. "What about Harry and the rest?"

Molly blinked. "Harry hurt his arm, but they’ve already fixed it and he’s resting comfortably. The rest of them are just shaken up."

Ginny let out a sigh and went limp in her arms. She was unresisting as Molly put her to bed. Afterwards, she began mixing the ingredients for some pie dough. She had some heavy thinking to do, and cooking kept her hands busy while her mind worked.

It seemed her daughter was getting rather attached to her quill-pal. Normally, she might have just passed this off as a star-struck crush on the "Boy Who Lived". But Ginny had been heart-broken when she returned, and devastated when she heard that Harry had been injured. Ginny was far too young to be chasing after boys, no telling what kind of reputation she’d get at this rate. She’d try to keep an eye on her daughter, and be there when she wanted to talk. She knew from long experience that trying to push the issue would make things worse.

She got a pleasant surprise as the Christmas season approached. Arthur was invited to a conference in Bulgaria, and she and Ginny would be able to travel along as well. This was a perfect opportunity to visit their second-oldest son and see the dragon preserve in Romania where he worked. Ginny was happy she’d get to see Charlie again, but she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Molly expected.

When she wrote Ron with the news, she expected him to be upset at being left at Hogwarts for Christmas. Instead, she got a letter back that put a lump in her throat. Her youngest boy, who was occasionally thoughtless, was glad he was staying at Hogwarts to spend Christmas with his friend. Any doubts she’d had regarding Harry’s Muggle guardians were dispelled when she read that he’d never had a Christmas present before. She felt as ill as her son when she learned that news, but the worst part was when Ron reported how calmly his friend told them this. He wasn’t being dramatic or seeking sympathy — this was normal to him. She found a nice skein of dark green yarn and set to work on another jumper.

As November rolled past, Molly tried to talk her daughter into giving knitting another go. Her line about ‘hand-made gifts mean a lot more’ did the job, but she was surprised when Ginny asked for the left-over green yarn from Harry’s jumper. Knowing her sons, Molly expected her daughter to make something for her parents, knowing that would be safe from ridicule. Instead, she wanted the yarn "because it matches his eyes, Mum". Her daughter blushed lightly, but Molly didn’t comment. She was surprised her daughter even remembered what colour the boy’s eyes were, but she supposed she should know better than to underestimate a first crush.

All in all, the scarf came out fairly well. Ginny, however, fretted over the lumpy knots and uneven edges. Molly had to reassure her daughter several times that it did indeed ‘look all right’ before she shipped off the packages.

She was a little surprised to discover that Harry had sent Ginny a Christmas gift as well. She was reassured when she saw the title of the book — "Quidditch Through the Ages". Trust an eleven year old boy to buy a little girl a book about Quidditch of all things! Ginny seemed abnormally interested in the book, but it was probably due to a lack of interesting things to do at the dragon tamer camp.

When they returned to The Burrow, the snowy owl visited them with a note for both her and Ginny.

> Dear Mrs. Weasley,

> Thank you so much for the jumper and the fudge. It’s nice and warm and the best Christmas present I’ve ever received. Your kindness and generosity helped make my first Christmas at Hogwarts the best one I can remember.

> Sincerely,

> Harry

He hadn’t mentioned the things Ron put in his letter. He didn’t complain about anything. He simply thanked her for the gift-- in such an amazed tone that she knew that every word Ron had written was true. Ginny’s letter was considerably longer, but by the time she finished it, she was smiling and a little teary-eyed.

Things settled into a routine after that. Molly began casually asking how Harry was doing when Ginny received a new letter. She got to hear about his Quidditch victories in more detail than she really wanted. Her husband and sons were all mad about the game, and she’d been hoping her daughter could have avoided the curse. Unfortunately it appeared Harry picked better than he knew when he bought her that book.

The letters also led to some odd conversations. One spring evening, Molly worried aloud during dinner about Ron getting good marks his first year. Arthur reassured her that the boy would do well, but Ginny just laughed.

"Ginevra, it’s not a laughing matter. Good marks are important if Ron wants to get a job with the Ministry or, well, wherever," she scolded.

"Sorry Mum," Ginny apologized. "I just don’t think you have much to worry about. Harry said that the four of them usually get the top marks in their class work."

Molly and Arthur just stared at their daughter.

"Ron didn’t tell you?" Ginny asked. "What a prat. No wonder he’s always third or fourth."

Her husband looked like he was trying to keep from laughing. "Ginny, honey, is there something you’d like to share with your mother?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I suppose he doesn’t want to act like Percy, going on about his grades all the time. In most of their classes, Harry and Hermione Granger get the first and second highest grades. Ron and Neville Longbottom usually get the next two highest. Except in Herbology, I think. Neville knows that better than anyone. They all study together, and Harry says that Hermione is really smart. I think Harry’s pretty smart too, if he does almost as well as her."

Ronald had avoided the subject of grades in his letters home, and Molly had assumed the worst. It’s possible he was embarrassed if his friends usually did better, but being fourth out of your class at Hogwarts was nothing to be ashamed of. She was going to give him a talking to when he got home for the summer.

Molly and her daughter were both up early for the journey to King’s Cross to pick up Ron, Fred, George, and Percy. She got a momentary shock when she saw Ron’s head sticking up above the crowd, but then she realized he was standing on his trunk. When he stepped down, she noticed he’d still visibly grown. He was roughly the same height as the twins, and he’d grown a bit sturdier as well.

Harry wasn’t as thin as she remembered, but his Muggle clothes were just as ragged and ill-fitting. The boy looked almost confused when she asked where his guardians were. She knew the parents of every Hogwarts child received a letter detailing where and when to pick up their child after the term was over. She felt a little ill when instead the boy said he’d just take the Knight Bus back to his house. She couldn’t imagine a family letting an eleven year old boy travel through London by himself, but she didn’t want to make a fuss and embarrass the poor dear.

She kept an eye on her daughter as she talked to Ron about his term. She got him to turn over the parchment with his final grades and she almost burst into tears. He’d been doing as well as Ginny assured her, but he was horribly embarrassed when she went to hug him. She just couldn’t help it. He’d done so well, especially after the twins’ lacklustre academic performance.

Harry and Ginny, however, talked in low tones that she couldn’t make out. He only touched her once, when she nearly toppled over, and only for an instant. Seeing him pull back quickly as they both blushed was reassuring as well.

Ginny and Ron were silent as they got off the bus. She saw Ginny stare after the bus as it left, and it wasn’t hard to tell what she was thinking.

It wasn’t until they got back to the house that Ron mentioned breaking his wand. Molly was upset at his carelessness; it would take her most of the summer to save up enough money to buy a replacement. She was letting him know how disappointed she was when he handed her a stack of galleons.

"Ron, where did you get this money?" she asked shrilly. She could think of several ways, none of them good. Percy looked equally upset.

"Harry broke my wand, accidentally, and he wouldn’t leave me alone until he gave me the money to pay for it," he said as he looked down. Molly realized now why he’d waited until they got home, instead of saying something while they were still out and could go to Ollivander’s. He didn’t want her saying anything to Harry about the accident and embarrassing him.

"Well, he didn’t have to do that, but it was very responsible of him." She frowned. "But why… if he has money, why does…?" she trailed off, not knowing how she wanted to phrase the question.

"Why does he dress like that, you mean?" Ron asked, his face getting red. "Because he has a vault his mum and dad left him, that his aunt and uncle don’t know anything about. If they did, they’d take it away from him. He just spends it on books and school supplies. It’s not like it’s even real money to him. So he goes on wearing torn up hand-me-downs from his cousin, because they can’t stand to see him dressed decently… and now he’s going back to those people."

She’d never heard Ron so angry before. Percy stared at him in disbelief while the twins had gone pale. Ginny ran up the stairs. The sound of her door slamming echoed down the stairwell.

"Well, dear, make sure to write to him often," she said to Ron in a calm voice. "He seems like a nice boy and I’m sure he’ll need his friends. Now, I think we can make a trip to Diagon alley the day after tomorrow and see about a new wand."

But she was wrong. The snowy white owl did not reappear at The Burrow. Errol took many letters addressed to Harry Potter, but never returned with any.