Even the best of his intentions seemed to always go awfully wrong. It wasn’t fair an assumption: this was war after all, and expecting things to remain good for a long period of time was as foolish a thought as any, but all Arthur was asking at this point was a break, some slack cut.
After the kidnappings, Arthur had drifted amongst the Order members in a daze, doing his best to act as normally as he would but ultimately failing to keep his guilt from dragging him two or three notches down. He did his best to make up for it with small gestures - visiting the younger members at their homes or inviting them over, offering company and a willing shoulder, an ear to listen - and still the helplessness that he felt then didn’t dissipate. His thoughts kept flying to how they were the ones who had jumped to task to save their taken friends, and his first instinct had been to grab his wife and leave, make sure that his family was safe while ignoring a huge chunk of them too. Like it or not, a lot of these men and women were like his... well, as odd a thought as it was, he considered them among the ranks of his own sons and it was tantamount to failure as a father that he’d abandoned them when the going got tough.
This time, Arthur decided, he wouldn’t be so lacking. Dividing his time between Hogwarts and the Burrow, letting his guard down the tiniest bit over his family since Alastor had helped him put up wards around his home and he had the utmost fate in Molly’s capabilities to look after their sons, he was a grim image of seriousness as the day drifted on and people prepared for a battle. And a battle did come, he saw and heard as much from the people that arrived at Hogwarts from Lestrange Manor, prompting his racing heart and rising panic that he quelled in his chest. Luck would have it that he’d just about apparated to the Burrow after making sure things were still peaceful at Hogwarts when Molly started shouting.
It took all of his self control not to shout when the first of them popped from underneath the floorboards, black sludge drip, drip, dripping from their... was it flesh still, even? Arthur only let himself shudder before jump starting into motion, hastily grabbing Percy and Bill’s hands while the twins instantly clung unto Molly, tears streaking down their faces. He was ready to apparate them out of there, knowing Molly would be following soon after when her voice pierced through the sound of creaking and breaking and screaming. Charlie! He turned from where he stood to see... Fabian. “Merlin...” he whispered under his breath, unable to quiet himself as time seemed to stand still for all of them, save for Charlie’s rushed pacing towards the other side of the room where... he stood, clearly holding no semblance to the smiling, playful uncle that his son was imagining. What kind of abomination was this war bringing up and how the hell was he expected to just aim his wand and “kill” his brother in law? It wasn’t him, sure, but to do that in front of his sons, his wife, it made him want to be sick.
Until that ghastly arm reached out and grabbed at his son, and whether it was instinct or a decision made, Arthur didn’t known but in an instant he had his wand raised and spell uttered, sending it reeling backwards and releasing his hold. In a flash, he darted across the room, moving faster than he ever had in his life to place his crying son in his arms then back again to Bill and Percy’s reaching hands. It all must’ve only taken half a minute and a soft pop! for them to drop unto the floor of the Great Hall, chests heaving and faces streaked with tears as Arthur clung unto Charlie, whispering “I got you, Charlie, I got you.” into his ear before Molly moved to take the boy from his arms to get him looked at. A quick check had him heaving a sigh of relief that the other boys were only shaken and with promises of ‘I’ll be right back, okay?’ to their scared little faces, he rushed to tell people about the Inferi and gather a group to put up wards around the castle to keep them all safe. He considered apparating to Lestrange Manor himself to help their people there, but after what happened and Molly’s increasing dread, he couldn’t possibly add to it by disappearing himself so he resolved to do what he could here, protect the people that needed their help and wait until everyone appeared.
But god, if he knew what they would bring back once they did, maybe he wouldn’t have wished for it. Arthur even greeted them with a smile at having his worst fears alleviated until something caught his eye. Perhaps he should’ve known from the way that none of them seemed able to meet his eye or speak a word to him, the way they dodged his questions until... there, at the back of the group, he saw that familiar red. Specked with flecks of black sludge and dirt covered, but still it shown against the light of his wand, a wand that was suddenly clenched tighter in his fist as he put two and two together. “I-Is he...?” was all he could manage to get out between his lips, choking back the rest of his sentence along with the sudden surge of his stomach that made him want to puke again. Their shaking heads was all the answered he needed, all the prompting for him to heave, hands on his knees and tears in his eyes. Fuck, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to end like this, he should be pushing his way to the front of the group now to punch his arm, throw a joke, a teasing comment, anything that would make this all better and make this night, this battle worth it.
And Molly, oh god. He’d taken this watch along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest for her, so he could alert her the moment that they came back and stop her worrying about her brother. The only brother that she had left and now here he was, lying on the ground lifeless while the other one had been brought back from the dead and had attacked their family. What was the point in any of this? Of this war? Were they going to have to lose more and more people, was that it? He took a minute to compose and steel himself, to tell them that he’ll be the one to tell Molly - just like he’d been the one to tell her about Fabian, that deja vu kicking in - before making his way back into the castle. He hadn’t yet figured out how to say it, there wasn’t really any sort of practice makes perfect for scenarios like this; it got harder and harder every time, the words were lost and the tears dried up. All he could do was to rush up to Molly and immediately wrap his arms around her, clinging to her as though his very life depended on it when really, he was more so doing it to keep her together because he knew very well that she’d fall apart once he opened his mouth, words repeating like a mantra to her cheek.
“Molly, I... I’m sorry, Mols, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”
