The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

7. Please Forgive Me

Arthur Weasley went crimson.

Not the faint embarrassed pink his children were used to seeing whenever Molly fussed over him in public.

This was different.

Deep humiliation mixed with heartbreak.

For a moment, he simply stood there in the middle of the corridor while the awful silence stretched around him. Ron's words still echoed through the hallway.

Everyone was staring now.

Harry looked stricken.

Hermione's face had softened with immediate guilt.

Ginny looked like she wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole.

Even Draco Malfoy — Draco, who had spent years mocking the Weasleys for their patched robes, hand-me-down books, and crooked little house — looked completely shaken. Because he genuinely had not known. He had not known the Burrow had been destroyed.

And worse—

He had not known Bellatrix had done it. 

A strange feeling twisted heavily in his chest. Guilt. Hot and uncomfortable. Technically, he had not cast the curse. Technically, he had not even been there.

But Bellatrix was still his family.

And suddenly the image of the Burrow burning rose in his mind with horrible clarity. The leaning little house Arthur spoke about so fondly. The strange, magical home Harry had once described at school with equal parts horror and affection.

Destroyed.

Because of people tied to his name.

Draco looked away sharply, jaw tightening.

Arthur inhaled slowly before straightening himself up again. "That is not the case at all, son," he said quietly.

Ron immediately looked sick with regret. "I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean—"

Arthur raised a hand gently to stop him. "No," he said softly. "You're upset. I understand."

That somehow made Ron look even worse.

Arthur rubbed a tired hand across his face before speaking again. "Truthfully..." He glanced briefly toward Molly's absence as though imagining her standing there beside him. "Your mother and I have been arguing lately. But it's not for the reason you think." He paused and shook his head. "It's because she wants us to rebuild somewhere else."

Ron frowned. "What?"

"A new house," Arthur explained quietly. "Closer to town. Closer to the graveyard."

The last word landed heavily.

Ginny looked down immediately.

Harry's chest tightened.

Fred.

Arthur smiled faintly then, though it looked fragile. "A proper home," he continued. "One with straight walls and sensible plumbing and enough room that the garden gnomes don't declare territorial war every spring."

A few weak smiles appeared around the group.

But Arthur's expression softened with deep affection as he looked somewhere far beyond the corridor walls. "But I can't bear the thought of leaving the Burrow." His voice cracked slightly on the words. "I know it leans too far to the left," he admitted. "And half the floorboards try to murder visitors." A tiny laugh escaped him. "And the ghoul in the attic sounds like it's dying every winter."