MetaFic

Scene 20.0.2

1 Jul 1992

“The Fosterage was a requirement of the contracts we were . . . bound by when we agreed to take care of you, Harry.”  Mr Weasley had a kindly face, and Harry could see the laugh lines around the man’s mouth.  At the moment, the frank seriousness of the patriarch’s face left him with the impression that a really big shoe was about to drop – possibly on Harry’s head.  “We think,” Mr Weasley said after a bit of silence, “that she had considerable help from someone in the magical community when she wrote those contracts.  They were extremely well crafted, better than anything I’ve read before.  And I’ve been working at the Ministry for nearly three decades.”

“Okay,” Harry said.  He glanced over to Aoife and Darius, hoping they would understand his silent plea to help move the story along.

Darius nodded ever so slightly before he turned to face Mr Weasley.  “Arthur, I think Harry’s wanting to get to the end.  I’m sure he’ll want to hear the whole sordid tale later, but we’ve all been waiting nearly ten years to get at the answers you’re holding onto so well.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Mr Weasley said, nodded his head slowly.  “Molly, how about if you stop me if I miss something important, but otherwise . . . let’s see.  At that first meeting, Petunia demanded that we decide immediately – then and there – if we would raise you.  She made it very clear that there were other families she would be asking if we said ‘no,’ and that was . . . well, it was very scary.  She wouldn’t tell us the names, only that she had a list of witches and wizards.  We were afraid that she might contact a family like the Malfoys or Averys.  Do you know of them?”

“They were Death Eaters who got off with excuses, so yeah,” Harry said bluntly.  Mrs Weasley frowned slightly, and Harry saw her eyes briefly shoot toward her daughter, but he thought it was old news and not worth glossing over.

“Right.  The second issue was that Molly genuinely believed she owed two Life Debts to your mother.  Those obligations transferred to you.  Based on the, uh, personalities of your relatives, and those facts, we agreed to take you.  Molly wanted you regardless, so those other factors were just extra motivation.  The reason we wanted you to understand them, though . . . that’s the part of the Fosterage obligation.”

“Harry,” Mrs Weasley interrupted, “we had agreed to raise you, and we were committed to doing it properly.  We thought it was the best choice for you, even though it would have been . . . hard for us, Harry.” Mrs Weasley made a vague gesture to the house around her.  “We’re very happy, but financially things at that time were much harder than they are now.”

Harry was not completely surprised, knowing how large the Weasley family was from talking with Ron.  He nodded his acceptance of her statement, though he was certain he had no idea exactly what that information really meant in the lives of her family.

“When we agreed to sign the contract she had prepared,” Mrs Weasley said slowly, “we were told what the magical oath would require from our family.  The nature of the protections placed on you required a very strong bond at the deepest level of magic to let us become your proxy guardians while also allowing you to live at another property.  Your Aunt Petunia presented us with a magically binding contract with Ginny’s name on it, as . . .” She took a deep breath.  “ . . . as the only magic strong enough was a marriage contract.”

“What?!” Ginny’s whispered admission of shock came out at exactly the same time as Harry’s own exclamation.  It made a strange chorus of surprise, and the Weasleys flinched visibly.  “I’m married?! To Harry?” Ginny asked, her eyes locking onto him as her face alternately flushed deep scarlet and drained of color.

“We had to make a choice, Ginny,” her mother said, looking resigned.  “It was a situation that never should have happened, but it did.  With everything we told you – the Life Debts, the risk to Harry’s childhood – what would you have done in our place?”

“I . . . I wouldn’t want . . . It’s not that I . . . but . . . there must have been something . . .”

Harry gave her a bit of credit, as he was unable to articulate anything after his initial outburst.  The only thought circulating through his brain was a locked loop of Seamus telling him he was married . . . a litany of thick Irish brogue laughing at him.

“The problem, Harry,” Mr Weasley said into the silence after his daughter spluttered to a halt, “is that you and Ginny were so young, you would not be able to fulfill the obligations of the marriage contract if you were raised in the same house.  You both needed to be at least six years old before you could live together, or else there was a very real risk of the contract failing and causing severe repercussions.  Children who grow up together from such a young age always end up thinking of each other as siblings, you see.  As soon as we pointed that out to Petunia, she handed us a contract for the Fosterage that she had already prepared.  You had to be raised elsewhere for several years, and we decided that in order to give you the best childhood possible, we would wait until you were both ready for Hogwarts before revealing the whole story.”

“We’re, uh, married?” Harry asked, his brain still stuck on the first niggling detail.

“Yes.  I’m sorry to have it come out this way, but you are.”  Mrs Weasley faced Ginny and gave her a tremulous smile.  “And now you know why we always tried to make you think of Harry as someone who could be your friend if you tried to be a good friend to him.”

“Married?  As in, permanently?  Or, like, we can cancel it?” Harry’s mind was not going to move on its own to another topic, apparently.

Ginny let out a soft gasp, and Mr Weasley looked pained.  “Unless one of you is convicted of practicing Dark Magic or otherwise sentenced to Azkaban, then yes, you are married in a magical bond that cannot be broken.”

“Right.”  Harry could not imagine how he was going to explain this to Seamus, let alone anyone else.  “Married.”

“Harry,” Aoife said as she gently wrapped him in her arms.  “You know arranged marriages are common in much of the world, and they aren’t all that rare in pureblood society.” 

Harry returned the hug for a moment and then leaned back against the sofa.  He could see two fat tears slowly trailing down Ginny’s face, her eyes locked on the floor and her cheeks nearly ghost-white.  “Well,” he offered, trying to ignore the warble in his voice, “as long as you and Darius-da will be the ones to tell Cat, I suppose it’ll work itself out.” 

His brain continued on in its slow loop: married, married, married . . .