Who: Arthur Weasley
Where: The Prewett Funeral; cemetery
When: Monday afternoon
If you want to tag it, let me know Ash.
It had been one hell of a weekend for Arthur Weasley. His wife was a wreck from her parents' death, the children were all antsy and not completely understanding what was going on (well...except for Bill and Charlie, they definitely realized the implications of the situation better than their younger siblings, but probably not entirely). Now that they were at the funeral, he was doing his best to console Molly and keep strong for her but...Molly couldn't stop crying and--he needed a break.
Once they made it through the procession and to the cemetery, Arthur gave Molly a quick kiss and stepped away, needing some time to just breath and collect himself. He left her in the hands of her brothers, sure that they would console her should she start getting weepy again. He hoped that the boys were being good for his parents, and the thought of them brought a sad smile to his face. They were going to grow up not really knowing their grandparents; at least, the twins and Ron would. The other boys had had time but still, it was hard to let someone like that go.
Arthur turned to look back at the funeral party, a small sigh escaping his lips. They were almost through with all of this, he just had to keep telling himself that. He was ready to get Molly home, put her into bed, and take care of the boys for the day for her. He wasn't sure how long the grieving process would take for her, but if she was this torn up now...he didn't know.
There wasn't much time to think, though. Arthur heard a hissing noise from behind him and when he turned, a flash of red met him, hitting him squarely in the chest. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.
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