The Things No One Notices (A HP Fic)

Chapter fifteen

"Three weeks," Molly mumbled under her breath as she furiously scrubbed a pot.

Her frustration and worry fueled her. She had made sure her kids were fed a proper meal, given lost of love on their return home, and the promise of many chores to help pitch in for the upcoming wedding. It was only a few months away. But now that her kids were all in bed, and her husband was buried deep in his muggle gadgets and trinkets, she was left to pounder and fret.

Her shoulders sagged, as she placed the pot in the sink to rest her arms. She bowed her head. A heavy sigh left her lips.

Harry had been missing for three weeks. There had been no sign of him. Not a single clue as to where he could be or if he were alright. There had not even been an appearance at Dumbledore's funeral. She had thought that he would have surely come out of hiding for that. But alas he had not.

Something in the back of her mind reminded her that Harry was not the only boy missing. She caught a glimpse of the crumbled and charred Daily Prophet. The newest conspiracy was still visible in bold black letters.

The damage that had been done to it, was courtesy of Hermione, who was currently asleep in Ginny's room. She had quickly lost passion towards the article, which is why it was still mostly legible and not a pile of ash. The truth was the rest of them were losing energy. Harry's disappearance still worried and enraged them, as did any article that discredited Harry's reputation, even by a little bit. But now they no longer had to energy to be filled with rage at the mere mention of him. Everyone was just sad. Sad and hopeless.

Molly rinsed the pot, spelled it dry, and spelled it away. She whipped her hands on her apron, that was tied around her waist. She tossed the Daily Prophet into the fireplace without even looking at it. It hurt to read and hear what they were saying about Harry. It was vile stuff. It was a bunch of lies. But only Harry's true friends knew that.

The rumors were only getting worse the longer Harry was missing. At three weeks the rumors were so horrendous that most common wizards were afraid of the boy-who-lived. Terrified was more accurate. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had a done a brilliant job of painting a horrendous vicious picture of the once beloved Harry Potter. His name was tarnished. His followers slim to none. His enemies only rising.

Molly shook her head. Worry lines creased her face. Her age was showing. The stress of it all was getting to her. Whether Harry knew it or not Molly saw him as one of her sons. Someone she would do anything to protect. His disappearance was just as hard on her as everyone else, if not worse. Molly was a mother; she would die for her children. Kill for them. And Harry was one of her children.

She had made quick work of the dinner dishes, thanks to her growing fears and concern. She hung her apron up, neatly, on a hook by the door. She whipped her hands on her pants. She looked out the front window as she passed. Always hoping to see a glimpse of Harry running up the walkway. It had been this way since the attack on Hogwarts.

Molly had stood at King's Cross Station waiting for the Hogwarts Express to roll in. When it did, she had hoped to see four children coming towards her, but there had only been three. She had kept hoping. Kept looking. But it was futile. Harry had not been on the train. He had not been seen since the attack. She always suspected that Remus knew where he had gone. But Remus would only go looking if McGonagall asked him to. This infuriated Molly. Her boy was missing, and no one was doing a damn thing about it.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks and not a sign of him. His trunk was left at the foot of his bed, now a resident amongst Ron's things. There had been no letters. No patronesses. Nothing. She had spent many nights pulling at her hair in frustration. Many sleepless nights waiting for him to walk through that door. She knew was asking for too much. Of course, she was. Harry had left. He had run away. It was his decision. She could only imagine what had been going through his head at the time.