It’s messy, at first, and the weeks fly by in a depressing chaos. James and Lily are initially racked with survivors’ guilt but Sirius and Remus urge them to both go to St. Mungo’s finest therapists. They have appointments twice a week. Peter escapes, and even though Voldemort’s gone, the knowledge that the slimy rat is still out there keeps the other Marauders up at night. Sirius has to undergo a trial to clear his name, barely making it through. Minister Bagnold steps down during all of this—evidently an attack on one of the largest wizarding families did not bode well for her career—and one Cornelius Fudge takes over with an undersecretary with a vendetta against werewolves.
And of course, there are the kids. Their great-aunt, Muriel, initially wants custody and the Marauders (incl. Lily) have to fight tooth and nail to get them, all while two are facing extreme anxiety/survivors guilt, the third is going through the legal system to clear his name, and the fourth is dealing with discrimination laws. Of course, Muriel sees the children as interchangeable, mere puppets with red hair who can continue the Weasley name. But James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus see children, children who are all unique, with their own reactions to the sudden changes in their lives.
Bill, who was set to start Hogwarts next year, informs all of the adults that he’s more than happy to take care of his family himself, thank you, because who better to take care of six children than a ten-year-old? It’s fullproof.
Charlie, clearly a daredevil from the start, becomes even more reckless, with an almost self-deprecating carelessness that’s beyond what any nine-year old should experience.
Percy withdraws completely, barely saying a handful of words a week, burying his nose in his books, knowing that he’ll be able to stop the story if it gets too scary. He’s five and he’s already trying to control the story.
Fred and George, merely three, have enough sense to know that they want to go home and they’re willing to pull as many pranks as possible until someone takes them back to the Burrow and puts them in the arms of their parents.
Ron, it initially seems, doesn’t have much of a reaction. At first, this is chalked up to him being a few months older than Harry, certainly not old enough to understand what’s going on. With Ginny only a few months old and the other five having more overt forms of grief that explode on a constant basis, it’s no wonder that Ron is usually the last to receive attention.
And Harry, of course, is marked with more scars than the visible one, happy, confused, and sometimes overwhelmed by everything going on around him.
Like I said, at first, it’s messy. There’s a whole lot of everything and very few adults who can handle it all. But they do their best with what they have. James stretches out the small fortune he inherited from his parents. A small fortune. They certainly aren’t millionaires and having seven extra mouths to feed does hamper away at the funds. But they make it work. Slowly and surely, they make it work, tackling one issue at a time, until doing so has become routine, has become familiar, has become home.
By the time Christmas rolls around, there’s an awkward but endearing sense of familiarity as the eight children are pushed towards the tree that’s buried beneath red and gold packages. Bill receives his first Hogwarts robes and Hogwarts: A History. Charlie receives a ride-along dragon that can carry two children several feet into the air. Percy receives a set of books, chosen by Remus, called ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’. Fred and George receive their very first box of Dungbombs and other prank items, courtesy of a grinning Sirius. Ron and Harry receive new toy brooms. Ginny receives a Puffskein to snuggle with in her cot.
There were no sweaters and thus, a lot of tears, but there were also a lot of smiles. By the time the second Christmas rolls around, there were more tears, though they were out of joy as the family crowded in front of Remus’ new camera.
The year itself had been a whirlwind of emotions but, again, a routine did form, and with it came—well—the Marauders loved the children equally, of course, but they couldn’t deny that they felt drawn to specific children.
Lily and Bill had their first heart-to-heart rather early on, wherein she explained that she understood how important family was, but that it wasn’t his job to take care of his loved ones. She had to hide her tears when the ten-year-old bit his lip and admitted that he trusted her to do it.
Sirius and Charlie would often give Lily heart palpitations as they found new and exciting ways to have adventures.
Remus and Percy bonded over their love for a quiet retreat in the middle of the chaos. Percy would smile, feeling very grown up, when Remus would hand him a small mug of tea as they talked about their favorite books.
Naturally, Fred and George met their match in James.
Ginny, being the youngest, needed tending to by all of the adults but Lily (with Bill’s help/advice) was often the first to arrive at the crying infant’s cot.
Of course, Ron, having traits that were encouraged but nonetheless unremarkable, didn’t really connect with any of the adults as strongly as his siblings did. So Ron? Ron became Harry’s.
And Harry became everyone’s. James and Lily were initially fearful of how the siblings would react to him, especially when they were all old enough to realize that Arthur and Molly had both died to save him. But it seemed that the older the redheads got, the more they not only understood their parents’ actions, but were willing to mimic them. Every time a butterfly so much as went near him, seven children were on guard, determined to make sure he was okay.
Harry grew up protected (sometimes overly so) and loved (thankfully overly so) in a family that he loved/protected in turn. After all, they were his family. And he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt them. Which was why he was more than willing to stand up to the blond boy who took one look at his brother and said:
“Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Potter.”
(Man, I really got into that one.)
