Molly sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her husband's hair. "Arthur, dear, you need to wake up," she murmured. She'd tried every five minutes since a quarter 'til eleven with no luck, but after a minute or two this time, he finally woke up.
He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. "You're not going to tell me that was all a horrible dream, are you?" he mumbled.
"I'm afraid not," she said sadly. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got trampled by a Hippogriff." He rolled over onto his back with a groan. "What time is it?"
"Eleven."
"Shite," he cursed under his breath as he sat bolt upright.
Molly put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from jumping up. "There's no rush. Alexander isn't back yet and no one minds waiting. They all know you're not feeling well."
Stars dazzled before his eyes and a sharp pain shot through his chest. He winced.
"What is it? Do I need to send Alexander a Patronus?" she asked, her voice betraying how worried she was.
Arthur shook his head. "I think it's residual."
"Promise you'll tell me if it lingers."
He looked her in the eye. "It's already gone."
He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. Molly rubbed his back while he rubbed his eyes.
"Why did I decide to do this tonight?"
"Because there's no other time unless you want to do it while you're in hospital, and if you waited, you know there would be a lot more questions that would be a lot harder to put off."
He pulled his shirts off over his head at the same time and tossed them onto the foot of the bed. Looking down, he studied his scars and traced one with his finger. Even though Alexander had healed them, they stood out stark against his skin. They had faded over the years, but now they had returned to their appearance in the months following the attack. Molly placed a hand on top of his and pulled it down into his lap, successfully drawing his attention away from the marks.
"They don't matter," she whispered, gazing into his blue eyes.
He couldn't make himself agree with her. Just when he thought he might be able to reach a point where he wasn't so self-conscious about them and he wasn't reminded of the attack every time he took his shirt off, he had to start all over. "I'm gonna get cleaned up," he said just as quietly before leaving Molly sitting on the bed alone.
With only the cold tap running, he stuck his head under the water in the sink. A gasp escaped his lips. He used the hand soap to wash his hair and face since he wanted to make a quick job of it. The cold water woke him up more. He turned off the tap and grabbed his hand towel. After roughly drying his hair and face, he saw himself in the mirror for the first time since the episode.
His drawn, pale face contrasted greatly with his red hair and the dark circles under his eyes. The amount of wrinkles seemed to have tripled. Bloodshot eyes reminded him of the months he had wasted drinking, but he knew they weren't red because of alcohol this time. Before he had much longer to dwell, Moly appeared in the doorway.
"Even if I make it another twenty-seven years like they initially said, this thing's gonna age me," he said, his voice rough.
She almost rebutted that he only thought that because of how tired he was, but then had to admit he had a point. "It makes sense that it would do that," she said softly. "It puts a lot of stress on your body."
"You're going to be stuck caring for an old man when you're middle-aged," he grumbled.
"I don't care, as long as that old man is you."
"But you didn't sign up for that."
"I agreed to that when we said our vows. If it comes a little sooner, then so be it."
Blue eyes finally met brown. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured before leaning in for a kiss.
Tapping on the bedroom door interrupted the couple.
"I love you," Molly murmured as her lips left his.
Arthur grabbed her hand to stop her. When she turned back around, he said with deep emotion, "I love you," then let her go.
A couple seconds later, Molly opened the door to reveal Ian standing on the landing, leaning heavily on his crutches. Water briefly ran in the bathroom as Arthur continued getting cleaned up.
"Hey, Molly, I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Ian whispered.
"No, Ian, you're fine," Molly assured with a smile. "Arthur's getting ready."
"How is he?" Ian asked at his normal volume.
"He's...better than he was earlier."
"Oh, good. I'm glad to hear it."
After a few seconds of silence, Molly asked, "Do you need something?"
"Hmm?" Ian's eyebrows shot up. "Oh – yeah. I was wondering if you had a Pain Potion. My back's killing me."
"What strength?"
"Medium will be fine."
"I should have some in the bathroom cabinet."
Before she could take a step, Arthur called, "I took the last one we had up here the other night."
"Why?" she asked looking in his direction.
Arthur stuck his head out of the bathroom and furrowed his brow at her. Trying not to give anything away, he only said, "When I woke up."
"Oh. You didn't tell me it was that bad."
"I didn't want to worry you."
"You need to tell me from now on."
Arthur shrugged. "Okay."
"Arthur."
"I will tell you from now on," he reassured her before completely disappearing back into the bathroom. The tap ran for a few seconds again.
Turning back to Ian, Molly said, "I think we have some in the kitchen. Bill can get it for you."
"Hold on," Arthur said as he stepped into the doorway while drying off the front of his torso with his hand towel. "A mild one won't work?" he asked Ian.
"No, and the only reason I'm not going for a high-strength one is because I know we're about to discuss something important," Ian replied.
"You asked Elaine?"
"Yeah. She doesn't have any."
"She doesn't?" Arthur challenged evenly.
"No. You know that happens occasionally."
"Oh, Arthur," Molly huffed. "We don't need to do this every time."
Ignoring his wife, Arthur continued questioning his younger brother. "Why do you need it?"
"My legs."
"I thought it was your back."
Ian shifted his weight on his crutches. "It's all of it. It's been a long day, alright?" he said with an edge to his voice.
Arthur dropped the towel onto the tiled bathroom floor. "If they're bothering you that badly, why didn't someone else come up here and ask?" he said as he headed toward the bedroom closet.
"I already got a clean shirt out for you, dear," Molly told him, holding a light grey t-shirt out to him.
He reached for it and looked over at Ian, waiting for an answer, but froze when he noticed his younger brother had gone slightly pale and was staring at him. Arthur followed his gaze to a sunken area on his left side. He brushed it with his fingertips and looked back at Ian.
"The – uh – the snake took a small chunk out of me," Arthur whispered.
Ian's eyes remained glued to the scar, so Arthur covered it fully with his hand. This only redirected Ian's attention to the other scars. Usually, people staring easily irritated Arthur, but he had a lot more patience with Ian since the Quidditch accident, knowing he couldn't always help it. Besides, he only had himself to blame; he'd been so tired, it completely slipped his mind to keep them hidden. It didn't make him any less uncomfortable, though.
"Ian," he said firmly.
Ian's head snapped up. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
Arthur wasn't sure what he was apologizing for – for staring, for what he went through, or both – but it didn't matter.
"Ian!" Neil called from downstairs. Heavy footsteps came up the steps.
They all turned their attention to him as he joined Ian on the landing and evenly asked, "What are you doing? We told you not to bother them. Bill found one in the kitchen for you."
Ian's face went pink behind his auburn beard. Eyes downcast, he mumbled, "Sorry. I guess I didn't hear you."
"He's not bothering us," Molly said.
Neil looked over at the couple for the first time, but his gaze immediately shifted to his brother's pale and mangled body.
"Oi!" Arthur barked. Neil's eyes snapped up and met his. "What have I told you?" he growled then roughly pulled the grey t-shirt over his head.
"I was caught a little off guard. Sorry," Neil apologized with a shrug.
"You know they're there."
"But I've never seen them and I wasn't expecting you to be shirtless." Neil studied his face and quietly added, "You don't look so good."
Molly studied him as well, making sure he hadn't taken a funny turn.
Arthur ignored her and curtly replied, "I'm aware."
"I meant, maybe you should get some rest and we can have this meeting tomorrow," Neil clarified.
"I got some rest, and we have to have it tonight."
Neil noticed the bloody undershirt lying in a heap on the foot of the bed. "W-What's going on?" he asked anxiously.
The other three followed his gaze. Arthur snatched up the shirts and tossed them onto the floor on the far side of the bed, out of sight.
"Keep it to yourselves," he ordered.
Neil and Ian glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes.
"What exactly are we keeping to ourselves?" Neil questioned.
"It doesn't matter."
"No, we deserve an explanation," Neil argued. "An honest one."
"And you'll get it whenever Alexander gets back," Arthur shot.
"Now."
"Neil!" Arthur finally succeeded in silencing his brother. "Go downstairs and get a Calming Draught from Gran before you give yourself a panic attack."
The two younger Weasleys left them. Arthur sat down heavily on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair while Molly closed the door.
"Neil's just worried," she said, coming to stand in front of her husband.
"I know, but you know he won't drop some things unless you're stern with him. Besides, he doesn't need to give himself a panic attack before we even start the meeting."
"I know. I also know that you've had a rough night – and I admire the patience you showed Ian when he noticed your scars – but I think you're being a bit tough on your brothers tonight. You were snippy with Alexander, I don't even want to know what happened with Trent –"
"Nothing happened with Trent," he interrupted wearily.
Molly raised her eyebrows.
"Fine. I raised my voice, but only because of the way he approached the situation, causing a scene in front of everyone instead of coming to me privately. I think I've behaved rather well considering the night I've had."
"What about all the questions you asked Ian? Was that really necessary?"
"I think we should be a little cautious right now with how often he's been taking Pain Potions recently," he answered matter-of-factly. "The system had to be put into place for a reason. You remember how things used to be."
"But tonight? We've learned how certain situations affect him over the years. It shouldn't have even been a question if he truly needed one."
"I don't doubt his back and legs have been bothering him the past few weeks – Hell, the chairs at the hospital messed with my back and hips; honestly, I'm surprised he was able to put up with them for as long as he did – but you know days like today can be hit or miss and you can't deny there were a couple red flags right from the start. Just let Elaine know so she's aware. She can decide if she needs to keep an eye on it or not."
"Okay. I will," Molly conceded, "but I don't think it's anything to be concerned about."
"Fine, maybe it's not. Maybe I went a little overboard with the questions" – he took her hands in his and looked down at them – "but I'm worried about my brothers and how they're going to handle this."
"You're not worried about our kids?"
"Not really. They're not completely in the dark and they have better coping mechanisms than my brothers and I ever had."
"That doesn't mean they'll handle this well. You're their dad and they've already been through a lot. We got lucky when we told them about the curse. I'm afraid we're not going to be that lucky with this, especially with your brothers here. Emotions are going to run high tonight," she quietly warned.
"I know," he sighed. "I'm trying not to think about it, so just forget what I said."
"Okay, but just so you know, Trent is still upset and George has gotten quiet. He doesn't know anything has happened, but he does know something is wrong."
Arthur frowned and shook his head. "I wish I hadn't put it off this long. They all deserve better than an exhausted explanation in the middle of the night after something happened."
Molly lifted his chin with her forefinger so his eyes met hers and rested her hands on the back of his neck. He moved his hands to her hips. Several responses flitted through her mind – You weren't ready, No one knew it was already this serious, You were trying to protect them – but she knew her husband would have a comeback for each of them. She wanted to offer as many words of comfort as she could, but knew he wouldn't hear them at the moment, so she merely said, "There's nothing you can do about it now, except tell them the truth...Are you ready to go down?"
Arthur sighed as he stood. "Ready as I'll ever be." Hands still on her hips, he bent down and kissed her forehead.
oOoOo
The sitting room hummed with murmured conversations. Arthur scanned the room, but didn't pay too much attention to who was in there. He noticed someone transfigured one of the end tables into a recliner for Ian. Instead of finding a seat, Arthur went into the kitchen to see if Ginny had arrived yet since he didn't see her in there. Molly followed close behind.
Steaming mugs of tea and two platters of sandwiches filled the kitchen counter. Gran added to one of the platters while Margaret filled the last few mugs from the kettle. Gran shooed Ron away from the sandwiches, telling him he needed to leave some for everyone else. He joined Gramps, Charlie, and Hermione at the table. Arthur spotted Ginny putting milk and sugar in two mugs at the far end of the counter. Trenton leaned against the counter beside her, holding a mug of his own.
Wanting to surprise her, Arthur remained quiet as he approached; however, this also enabled him to hear what Trenton was asking her.
"Come on, you're his kid. You have to know something," Trenton said.
"I haven't seen him in a month." Ginny dropped a clump of sugar into one of the mugs. "What would make you think I know anything?"
"Well, it seems like he's had a problem for a while now, so..."
"Even if I did know something, it's not for me to say," Ginny told him exasperatedly while she stirred the tea.
"Leave her alone, Trent," Arthur interrupted the second Trenton opened his mouth again. "Give it a rest already."
Ginny spun around and exclaimed, "Daddy!" She threw her arms around him. He let out an involuntary groan as she squeezed him. She immediately let go. "I'm sorry."
Looking down at her, he said, "It's okay. I don't mind." He gave her a genuine smile to reassure her.
This time, she gingerly wrapped her arms around him, but he still failed to hide a grimace or keep his breath from hitching in his throat. The pain etched on his face didn't escape anyone else's notice. Despite his body's protests, he held his daughter tight. He truly did not mind the discomfort since it meant he could hold his little girl. Mere hours ago, he wasn't sure he would be able to see her again let alone hold her in his arms.
He discreetly wiped a tear from his eye. Trenton glared at him from over his mug. Even when she went to pull away, he held her a little longer before planting a kiss atop her head, giving her a squeeze, and releasing her.
Ginny stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek, but as she lowered herself, she narrowed her eyes at him.
Arthur thought she noticed how pale and drawn he looked, but asked, "What is it?" anyway.
She stood on her tiptoes again and he leaned over a little so she could whisper in his ear, "Why do you smell like Firewhisky?"
Arthur froze. He swallowed hard. "Do I?"
"Yeah, a little."
How could he have forgotten to brush his teeth? Had anyone else noticed? Probably not, he supposed; the only other person who had been that close to him was Molly, but why hadn't she pointed it out? His mind raced to come up with an excuse, reverting to the months that he had to hide his drinking, before he remembered this was different. He relaxed a little.
"Dad?"
Turning his back to the rest of the room, he answered just as quietly. "It was an honest accident, and I took a potion afterward." However, while drinking had been a genuine accident, he couldn't be sure that forgetting to brush his teeth had been as well. "Your mum knows, but your brothers don't. I'll tell them later. I've not started drinking again. I promise."
Ginny looked to her mum for confirmation.
"He's been doing very well," Molly assured. "You should be proud of him." She smiled up at her husband.
Brown eyes met blue. "Please don't start drinking again," Ginny told her dad. "I like it better when you're happy."
"So do I," he replied with a smile. Having not seen Alexander in the sitting room or the kitchen, he asked, "Did Uncle Alex come back with you?"
"He said he'd be right behind us, but it's been over half an hour now."
"Do you know what he was doing?"
"He was looking for a book."
"I knew he would look through every book in that library," Molly mumbled.
"Actually, Hermione had an idea to go through the library records from Uncle Alex's fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts and make a list of all the books he checked out of the Restricted Section. Then, we pulled every book matching the description he gave us. He'd made it through half a dozen books when we left, but he still had a few left and he wanted to finish before coming back," Ginny informed. "He seemed a little stressed and wouldn't say what the meeting is about." She looked at her father expectantly.
However, Arthur redirected the conversation. "We missed you today."
"I really wish I could've been here. Mum made me stay at school because of the Quidditch match."
"That's right. How did it go?" Arthur asked.
"We creamed them!" Ginny exclaimed proudly.
Father and daughter went to the sitting room. She sat next to Harry on the couch and handed him a mug while Arthur sat on the nearby loveseat. Molly came in a moment later levitating a tray containing one of the platters of sandwiches, some paper plates, a mug of tea, and a glass of water in front of her. She carefully lowered them onto the coffee table and handed Arthur a sandwich and the water before sitting on the loveseat beside him with the tea and a sandwich of her own. While they waited for Alexander, Ginny told them all about that day's Quidditch match.
oOoOo
The clock struck midnight. By the twelfth chime, the Floo roared to life in the kitchen and an obviously frazzled Alexander burst through the swinging door a few seconds later.
"I know I'm late. I'm sorry. I ran out of –" He cleared his throat and corrected himself. "I lost track of time," he said distractedly as he hung his travelling cloak on the coat rack, deliberately not looking at anyone.
"Alexander," Arthur began.
Alexander automatically looked at him then almost immediately looked away. "Go ahead and start without me. I'll just be a minute," he said before going to the water closet beneath the stairs.
Margaret wordlessly followed her husband. Half of their conversation could be heard since Alexander's abrupt entrance silenced the room.
After a knock on the door, Margaret called, "Love? What's wrong?"
There was a brief pause.
"I wish you would talk to me – We'll talk later? You've said that for weeks and you still haven't said a word about it – I'm worried about you, Xander. Do you not realize whatever is putting a strain on you is also putting a strain on me because of this lack of communication? Why –"
"– Damn it, Margaret!"
The room filled with many raised eyebrows at Alexander's highly unusual outburst, especially since it was directed at his wife. The rest of what he said couldn't be heard, but a few seconds later, a rather reserved Margaret came back in.
"He said for us to get started," she quietly told them as she took her seat in one of the chairs that had been brought in from the kitchen table.
Arthur thought for a moment, wondering what could have Alexander so worked up and trying to push down the guilt he felt for causing the stress on his brother and sister-in-law's relationship. When he managed to clear his head of those thoughts, he finally said, "We've waited this long. What's a couple more minutes?"
Silence returned briefly. The only sound was the crackling of the fire until light footsteps came from underneath the staircase before Alexander appeared, looking much more composed than a few minutes prior. He paused and glanced around the room. After making sure he wasn't interrupting anything, he went over to Margaret.
Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry I blew up on you."
"It's okay," she said.
"No, it's not. It's unacceptable. I shouldn't have raised my voice – and I shouldn't have said that to you."
She cupped his cheek and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.
When Alexander found a place to lean against the wall across from the loveseat, everyone turned their attention to Arthur. He took a deep breath and began, "Okay...I want to start off by apologizing for not telling you all sooner, but I hope you will understand why I've put this off for so long and hope you aren't upset with me...I suppose it would be easier to start from the beginning: When I was attacked by a creature a few years ago...it was V-Voldemort's snake. I couldn't tell you what it was because of the circumstances surrounding the situation and because of my involvement with the Order. The Healers also did not have all of the information at the time, so they missed something very important, which led to a trip to St. Mungo's this past December when they finally discovered it – and please don't be upset because Gran and Gramps and Alexander already know; they only know because they took me to the hospital – and of course, I already told my wife and kids. They've not told any of you because I asked them not to say anything."
"What is it, Arthur?" Neil interrupted.
"When the snake bit me, it gave me an extremely rare and complex curse. There is no known treatment or counter-curse. Nothing is known about it."
"Can't they remove it?" Paulene asked.
Arthur shook his head. "No, because it's in my bloodstream."
Time stood still. While his grandparents, wife, children, and Alexander already knew this, his other brothers and sisters-in-law did not, and it came as a great shock.
Desmond was the first to find his voice. "Do they know what the curse does?" he asked.
"It attacks my heart."
"Heart problems," Neil muttered from his dining chair, squinting at the floor. "Heart problems..." he repeated a little louder. Arms crossed, he shifted his gaze to Arthur. "You flat out lied to me."
"No. I didn't tell you the whole truth," Arthur corrected.
"No. I've been right this whole fucking time – or at least since Gramps was in the hospital – and you've been lying about it," Neil seethed. He looked from Arthur to Alexander. "Both of you."
"Ho! If you're going to be upset with someone, be upset with me. I already told you no one who knew about it said anything because I asked them not to – and on top of that, Alexander couldn't say anything because he's my Healer," Arthur defended his eldest brother. He looked around the room and sternly continued, "I also want to make it abundantly clear to everyone in this room that Alexander is to be blamed for nothing that might happen. He and I agreed on this arrangement from the start and I trust he'll do whatever he can, but I also understand we may reach a point where he, nor anyone else, can do anything." He locked eyes with Alexander. "No matter what happens, I will never blame him for anything" – he looked around the room again – "and I expect everyone else to follow suit. Understood?"
Everyone nodded their agreement.
Everyone, that is, except Neil who seemed to ignore what Arthur said and continued with his barrage of questions. "Whatever. Why did –"
"Neil –" Arthur began, carefully standing.
"I heard you," Neil cut him off, rising also. "'Don't blame Alexander.' Okay. Right now, I'm more concerned with how you could lie about something like this!"
After thinking for a moment, Arthur lamely replied, "I needed time."
"You needed time," Neil repeated blankly, staring at his brother.
"You had two effing months. You knew this when we swore to stop keeping secrets from each other," Trenton spoke up from his own dining chair, betrayal clearly etched in his face. "You looked me in the eye and – and acted like everything was okay," he said with disgust.
"You've been lying to us for weeks, and asking other people to lie for you. What makes you think that's okay?" Neil asked incredulously.
"It's not..." Arthur sank down onto the loveseat. Molly slid her hand into his. "But I had to come to terms with this, and I – I'm still not sure I have." He rubbed his neck with his free hand before continuing. "Both keeping this from you and telling you are the hardest parts about this. You have no idea how much I've been dreading this conversation."
"You think wanting to avoid having an unpleasant conversation justifies your actions? What, were you waiting for something to happen before you told us? Were you waiting for something to force you to tell us?" Neil shot.
"Something did happen," Trenton informed evenly. "Isn't that right, Ian?"
Ian's head snapped up, seeing as he had been in the middle of repositioning himself in the conjured recliner. He merely nodded as he carefully lowered himself back down onto the cushions. His left leg, which he'd taken out of the brace when he took the Pain Potion, violently spasmed on the footrest. He frowned at it, but otherwise ignored it. Everyone else ignored it as well, except for Harry and Audrey who both appeared startled by this sudden involuntary action.
"Daddy?" and "Dad?" came from Ginny and George, respectively, as they looked to their father for an explanation.
But before Arthur could even open his mouth, Neil turned on Ian. "You knew why his shirt was all bloody and didn't tell me?"
"Neil," Arthur cautioned.
"You were bleeding?" Percy piped up.
"I-I-I don't know why. I-I just knew it h-happened," Ian stuttered.
"Wait...You both knew why we were having a family meeting tonight and didn't say a word!" Neil accused Ian and Trenton as realization hit him. "For Merlin's sake! Who else knew?" he asked, staring around the room, before facing Arthur once again. "My God, you've turned this whole family into a bunch of liars – and all for your own selfish reasons!"
"Neil!" Arthur and Gramps barked simultaneously.
But he ignored both of them. "You know we don't keep big secrets from each other! How –"
He silently mouthed the next few words before abruptly stopping and reaching up to touch his mouth. His brow lowered and his eyes slightly crossed as he looked down at it – and he wasn't the only one confused by his sudden silence.
A snort of laughter from Desmond caused everyone to follow his gaze to Gran sitting between Ginny and Gramps on the couch with her wand pointed at Neil. Apparently, she had cast Silencio on her grandson without anyone noticing due to the commotion.
Neil mouthed soundlessly at her, color rising in his cheeks. Arthur always found it nearly impossible to read lips, but he picked out a few unsavory words that, had Neil been able to voice them, would have earned him an earful from both grandparents.
"You need to calm down, sweetheart," Gran said calmly. "I know you're angry, and scared, and worried about your brother, but you need to listen and let other people talk because they have questions too and your brother can't get a word in edgewise because you're getting hysterical."
This did not help Neil to calm down any, however. On the contrary, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Now, his neck and face were completely flushed and he was waving his arms around wildly, all the while seemingly shouting at the top of his lungs. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
Gran remained calm, speaking with the same soothing tone. "I'm not going to lift it until I know you're done."
Neil's chest rose and fell heavily in a silent huff as he rested his hands on his hips, glaring at his grandmother. She gestured to Arthur in order to redirect everyone's attention.
Arthur cast her an appreciative glance and removed his hand from Molly's. She rested her hand on his leg while he crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at Neil and frowned. "Don't keep secrets from each other, huh? You waited until your divorce was final before you told anyone." He turned to Trenton and, in a gentler tone, said, "It's taken years for you to let on how much you're really struggling without Kathleen." Facing Neil again, he returned to speaking sternly. "Every time Desmond lost a job, it took until he was evicted before he went to Ian and Elaine for money or a place to stay. No one knew Ian tried to commit suicide until five years after the fact." Ian squirmed a little and Elaine, who was sitting on the arm of the recliner, rubbed his shoulders. "We didn't find out Bilius quit drinking until he started to have hallucinations and it was too late. And I'm sure everyone in here has at least one secret that would shock the rest of us. So I don't want to hear any more of this 'we don't keep big secrets from each other' bullshit because you know damn well that isn't true!"
"Arthur," Alexander warned, seeing as he had raised his voice significantly by the time he finished the last sentence.
Taking heed of his eldest brother's reminder to keep his heartrate down, Arthur took a deep breath, took Molly's hand again, and calmly continued, "Those big secrets usually come out, but in our own time – and of course, if you keep pestering someone and they're not ready to tell you yet, they're going to fudge the truth a little. Now sit your arse down and drop it, or else you'll have to leave."
Neil glared daggers at him, but shut his mouth and sat down. His leg immediately began bouncing up and down. Gran lifted the spell, which enabled them to hear his shallow, ragged breathing.
"Did you take a Calming Draught?" Arthur asked Neil very seriously.
He hesitated, turning his attention to his trembling hands as he began to pick at his fingernails. "No...but why bother with it now?" he mumbled shakily. "You told us the news and I'm...I'm okay."
"No, you're not – and that's not all," Arthur said evenly. "Take a potion now. You're about to have a panic attack."
"Come here," Gran ordered Neil as she nudged Ginny to get up. Niece and uncle switched seats. Looking between his brother, niece, and her fiancé, Trenton stood and motioned for Harry to switch seats with him as well. As Trenton sat on the couch beside Neil, Harry dragged the empty dining chair close to Ginny's before sitting and putting his arm around her shoulders.
Gran Summoned the Calming Draught from the depths of her purse and passed it to Neil. He handed the empty vial back to her after he drank it then rested his forearms on his knees and bowed his head, eyes closed.
"Three things you hear," Gran murmured while rubbing circles on his back.
"Fire popping...watch ticking...cat purring," he muttered.
"Fingers, shoulders, feet."
Neil stretched and curled his fingers, his knuckles inadvertently popping as he did so, then rolled his shoulders. Lastly, he rocked his feet back and forth.
"Three things you see."
After opening his eyes, he said, "Coffee table, armchair –" he looked at Trenton out of the corner of his eye and gave a miniscule smirk – "an ugly mug."
Trenton lightly swatted his arm.
"Better?" Gran asked.
Neil took a deep breath and nodded. He leaned back and slid down so his shins pushed against the coffee table and he could rest his head comfortably on the back of the couch. He folded his hands on top of his stomach. Gran began to soothingly run her fingers through his fiery red hair and across his forehead. Finally, he fixed his green eyes on Arthur, letting everyone know the meeting could continue.
"So, Dad, what have you found out?" Charlie asked from his place on the stairs. "Because you wouldn't have been so secretive about what happened earlier or asked us to stay if nothing's changed."
"The curse has only been causing minimal damage over the past three years because it had a dormant period."
"Like I suspected?" Bill asked.
Arthur gave a single, solemn nod.
"How long is the dormant period?" Bill followed up.
"It ended after three years."
Gran's fingers stilled in Neil's hair, and she asked, "So...so what does this mean?"
"We're not entirely sure," Arthur answered, "but things have gotten a lot worse just in the past seven weeks...even though I've been trying to ignore it and pretend like nothing's happened," he added under his breath.
"That's really fuckin' foolish," Trenton muttered bitterly, scowling at Arthur.
"In what way has it gotten worse?" Percy asked.
"Does it have anything to do with what happened earlier?" Ron added.
"I'm still wondering what happened earlier," George put in. Ginny made a sound of agreement in front of him.
"Yes, it does," Arthur answered Ron's question.
"What happened tonight?" George loudly pressed.
"I had a...sort of...attack," Arthur said for lack of a better term. He went on to explain what occurred earlier in the evening for those who were in the dark. "Like I said, it's nothing new. I've been having these episodes for several weeks now – since mid-December. I've only had four of them, but they get worse each time. I think you've all witnessed at least one."
"When you passed out after your row with Trent at the hospital?" Neil asked, much calmer than he was a few moments ago.
"That was the third time it happened," Arthur answered.
"Hold on," Trenton interrupted, sitting up straight. "No one told me about that. Arthur, I-I'm sorry. I –"
Arthur shook his head and waved off the apology then continued, "The other two episodes were just before Christmas. They weren't much of anything when they started out, but now they've gotten to a point where they mimic a heart attack, but affects my scars as well...My scars actually reopened for the first time tonight – which is why my shirt was bloody, Neil."
"How often do you have these?" Gran asked. "Will they keep getting worse?"
"The first two were only a day apart. The next two were three and a half weeks each time. I don't know if they'll keep getting worse."
Many heads turned expectantly to Alexander, seeing as he was Arthur's Healer, but he continued staring intently at the coatrack and grinding his teeth on his thumbnail, deep in thought.
"Alexander?" Gramps called.
Alexander gave a start, jerking his hand away and inhaling sharply as he looked over at Gramps. "I'm sorry. I...I wasn't listening," he said in a daze.
"Will these episodes continue to get worse?" Gramps patiently repeated.
Rubbing behind his left ear and not looking directly at anyone, he carefully answered, "There are a lot of unknowns...but there is reason to believe they will."
"Well, if there's no treatment or counter-curse...is there anything you can do, Uncle Alex?" Ginny spoke up.
"Can you force it back into dormancy or contain it somewhere away from his heart?" Bill specified.
"I don't know," Alexander honestly answered. "He's finally consented to staying at St. Mungo's for two weeks for observation though, so hopefully, we'll be able to figure something out then."
"You still haven't done that?" Ginny asked her father incredulously.
"I haven't had the chance."
"You should've made time."
"We've been telling him that," Percy told her tiredly.
"Well, I'm going tomorrow. That's why we're having this meeting now. I didn't mean to put it off till the last minute."
"If you can't do anything..." Desmond trailed off then rephrased, "If nothing works..."
"Then..." Alexander let out a shaky breath and quietly said, "it – it'll kill him."
Molly's grip tightened on Arthur's hand.
Sitting up and scooting back on the couch, Neil softly asked, "What are the chances he'll survive?"
Meeting Arthur's gaze, Alexander said, "We've not really discussed that yet."
"Go ahead," Arthur told him.
With a nod, Alexander continued, "From what I can tell as of now...slim. Very, slim" – Molly inched closer to Arthur, who deliberately paid her no attention – "but I'm going to do everything I can."
"How long –" Trenton's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, but got choked up. "How –"
"How long do the Healers have to figure something out?" Gramps took over, his voice calm and steady. "I remember they said something like twenty-some-odd years when they discovered it, but this must've changed things."
"I-It does. It changes things a great deal. At least when it was dormant, the damage inflicted was minimal and fairly consistent. We don't have that luxury anymore. Now, we don't know when or how much damage will be inflicted. Only time can give us that information – can help us establish a pattern – if there's a pattern. I mean, these episodes could be caused by external factors. At this time, I'm not sure what causes them, though I have a few theories."
"But...do you know how much time he has left?" George repeated so quietly he almost went unheard, his eyes bright.
Messing with his left ear again, Alexander began, "Like I said, there are a lot of unknowns –"
"Something gives me the impression you have a general idea of what that timeframe looks like, Alex – that you found something tonight," Arthur finally called out his strange behavior after ignoring it since he'd returned.
Alexander uncrossed his arms and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He rested his eyes on the coatrack by the front door and lowered his voice. "Arthur, we should discuss that privately first."
"It's fine."
Shifting his gaze to his feet and pushing himself off of the wall, he firmly repeated, "No, Arthur, I really think we ought to discuss this in private."
"They're going to find out either way, so why not get it over with?" Arthur argued.
The clock on the mantel ticked for a long moment as Alexander visibly struggled with his response then burst, "Can't we talk about this privately first?"
"Do either of us have the energy for that right now?" Arthur snapped. "Because I sure as hell don't."
After running a hand through his hair, it briefly found its way back behind his left ear before he consciously shoved it into his pocket once again. "Fine," Alexander finally relented. "I found the book – It would've taken me ages instead of a couple hours if it weren't for these two brilliant young witches." He nodded toward Hermione and Ginny. "What I can gather from skimming over that section, it is the same curse. If not, it's eerily similar."
"Alex," Arthur interrupted yet again, growing even more impatient, "stop beating around the bush."
Leaning back against the wall, Alexander tightly shut his eyes and let out a ragged breath. When he opened his eyes, they remained narrowed and lingered on Arthur for a moment before turning to the ceiling. He took a deep breath and softly said, "We don't have decades...W-We don't even have years."
Arthur kept his eyes glued to Alexander while Alexander looked anywhere but at another human being. Arthur felt surprisingly numb, but he knew if he caught a glimpse of Molly, or Gran, or Trenton, or any of his kids, he would lose whatever grip he had on his composure. In that moment, he wished it had only been him and his eldest brother in the room...and he hadn't even heard the worst part yet.
"Um..." Alexander swallowed hard. "The – uh – book goes over five cases from the past three thousand years."
"It's a three-thousand-year-old curse?" Bill asked.
Alexander nodded as he Summoned his traveling cloak. It soared over everyone's heads into his hand. He pulled a book out of an inside pocket and deliberately shielded the cover with his cloak, ensuring no one could read the title.
He carefully opened the book to an apparently memorized page and spoke to the room while scanning the pages. "The first case – mind you, this was three thousand years ago – only survived five weeks after the dormancy period ended. The next two – over fifteen hundred years ago – a man and a woman survived four months and three months, respectively. The fourth individual was seven hundred years ago and already had serious health issues, so he only made it one week. The most recent was about two hundred and fifty years ago – he survived six months, with Strengthening Charms."
He closed the book and stuck it back in the pocket. Finally looking at Arthur, he said, "Best case scenario...we have until August."
A stunned silence covered the room, punctuated only by a strangled sob from Molly and a sniffle from Gran. Arthur's throat tightened. Doing his best to ignore anything and everything around him, he held his eldest brother's gaze, but caught Ian counting on his fingers and whispering to Elaine, who frowned and nodded, out of the corner of his eye.
"That's not right," Ian said softly.
Now everyone's attention turned to him. Arthur and Alexander broke eye contact at the same time to look at the younger, and Arthur let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Somewhat exasperated, Alexander began, "Ian, six months –"
"From December," Ian cut in, "right? Four months from now...June?"
The silence that followed this realization was much heavier.
Alexander paled.
Molly's grip tightened.
George bolted.
A tiny part of Arthur told him to go after his son, but the overwhelming shock and despair immediately drowned out all paternal instinct, paralyzing him. No one else seemed to be able to go after him either, not even Gramps; however, after several long seconds that felt like an eternity, Trenton rushed out the front door after his nephew.
Once he found his voice again, Alexander softly said, "You need to come to St. Mungo's tonight."
Arthur numbly nodded, his jaw clenched. Everyone watched him closely.
"Dear?" Molly tentatively asked.
"Art?" Alexander tried.
"I'm fine."
"Son," Gramps said, shaking his head at the same time Gran sadly said, "Sweetheart."
"Really, I am. If anything, I should be grateful for an extra three and a half years because...I – I should've died that night. I got to see my kids through school. I got to see two get married. We have some money saved up. I have a chance to get my affairs in order."
"Arthur, don't talk like that," Alexander interrupted. "Magical medicine has come a long way in the past fifty years alone. We'll figure it out."
"Don't make empty promises," Arthur told him harshly.
"I'm not. We are going to figure this out," Alexander repeated firmly.
"Stop. Just stop."
"What?" Alexander scoffed. "I'm being optimistic."
"No, you're being hopeful," Arthur sneered, snatching his hand from Molly's as he stood.
"Well, what do you want?" Alexander calmly asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"The truth. The honest-to-God, cold, hard truth. Pretend I'm not your brother for a second and tell me like it is. I want it cold and clinical."
Brows raised, Alexander asked, "You want it cold and clinical?"
Arthur gave a firm nod.
"Fine." Alexander took a step away from the wall. "This is much worse than I ever anticipated. We're dealing with a three-thousand-year-old curse. This is ancient Dark magic from a time when they made sure there was no counter-curse or way for the victim to survive. Oftentimes, curses with a delayed reaction like this were created not only to cause immense pain and suffering, but to prolong it to the point that the victim is begging to be put out of his misery by the end of it. Common practice for a case like this is to make the patient as comfortable as possible for whatever time he has left because chances of survival are practically zero."
Silence returned. Arthur glared at his eldest brother for a long moment.
"I need some air," he said suddenly and made his way to the front door without looking at anyone.
Molly began to stand, but Gramps put a hand on her knee and quietly told her to give him a few minutes.
Arthur braced himself on the porch railing and stared down at the grass in the dim light, the magic that previously illuminated the yard and porch having faded.
"It's gonna be hard on everyone, but you've got it the hardest."
Arthur gave a start and squinted through the darkness for the source of the voice. The glow from a lit cigarette helped him spot Trenton, and then George, in front of the flowerbed to his right.
"You didn't just lose your brother, you lost your twin," Trenton continued. "I don't know what that's like, but I have lost a brother and best friend. And even though I've lost my father, he was the complete opposite of your dad, so I was actually happy when he died. I did lose my mum when I was young though and I have lost my wife. That pain – even though you know there are people who love and care about you – that pain can become all-consuming if you're not careful, and you won't even realize it."
George wiped at his face and sniffed. "You're talking like he's already dead."
"No – No, I'm just warning you, in case it does come to that. I know how hard it was for you when Fred died, and I don't want you going back to that. I want you to know that you can come to me for anything. You need to lean on someone during this. It doesn't have to be me, but I figure I'm the person you can relate to most right now."
"Thanks, Uncle Trent."
Trenton dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. "Do you need a few more minutes or are you ready to go back in?"
"I don't really want to," George said shakily, "but we should probably go in so we don't miss anything else."
Arthur stood stunned at the conversation he'd just overheard. That was a side of Trenton he never saw. Perhaps it was something new, brought on by his conversation with Elijah earlier, or maybe it had always been there and he kept it hidden from anyone who didn't truly need to see it. Either way, Arthur was grateful that he showed it to George. At the moment, he was the best person Arthur could think of that George could talk to – and maybe it would help Trenton as well.
By the time Arthur realized he had accidentally eavesdropped on their conversation, it was too late for him to sneak back inside. They had already stepped onto the porch, but while they both seemed surprised to see him, neither seemed bothered by it.
George immediately hugged his dad.
"I'm sorry I didn't come out with you," Arthur apologized to his son.
"Don't worry about it, Dad. I – um – I think I'll be fine." George cast a sideways glance at Trenton as he pulled away. "Did we miss anything?"
Arthur looked from his son to his brother, the two people it would hurt the most. Telling them what Alexander said – how nonexistent his chances looked – could send them spiraling. It dawned on him how much they needed hope – how much they all needed hope. It dawned on him how stupid he was being, arguing with Alexander over something so obviously important. If the curse was going to kill him in four months' time, he would much rather spend that time with the faintest glimmer of hope than none at all.
Unable to bear telling them the worse news, he shook his head and said, "No, you didn't miss anything – nothing important anyway."
George went inside, but Trenton hung back.
"You know our little conversation we had earlier?" Trenton asked.
It was more of a bombardment, Arthur thought, but he nodded nonetheless.
Trenton looked him in the eye and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm with you...I got you..." To Arthur's astonishment, Trenton pulled him in for a tight hug. "I love you."
A painful lump suddenly formed in Arthur's throat, so he merely nodded as he returned the embrace.
Both brothers avoided each other's gaze after they broke apart, but not out of embarrassment. Without another word, Trenton led the way inside. Arthur forcefully swallowed the lump in his throat as he followed.
Immediately upon re-entry, Arthur apologized to Alexander. "I'm sorry. I was – er – panicking – a little," he mumbled. "Look, if you want to be hopeful, we'll be hopeful – because what's life without hope?"
"I'm sorry, too. I would never speak to a patient the way I spoke to you, and you didn't deserve to find out that way."
"No, that's what I've wanted this entire time: Complete honesty, no matter how brutal it may be."
"No one else asked for that," Alexander pointed out.
"Well, I pushed you, so that's on me," Arthur admitted, then apologized to the room as a whole.
"I'm not going to follow common practice with you," Alexander assured, though it was hardly a question. "I have a couple ideas that might buy us some time, and there are a handful of curses from that time period that have a counter-curse, so there may be one out there. I won't stop looking. I won't rest until you're cured or until – until you –"
"I know." Arthur cut him off.
"Well, that's all I have for tonight."
Arthur nodded, acknowledging he didn't have anything else to add to the meeting either.
"I guess we're done unless anyone has any other questions..." When no one said anything, Alexander glanced at his watch then back up at Arthur and continued, "You need to get ready, so we can get you settled into St. Mungo's."