Chapter Text
Amrod Feanorion had a hasty and a very much prophesied death, a long life wandering in a world not his own, before he really became Arthur Weasley. The fire that the ships caught swallowed him whole, but more than that, the betrayal of his own father burning him alive was what burned his fëa where regular fire could not reach. The eyes void of guilt or remorse were forever seared in his memory.
As his fëa detaches from his drowning, burnt body, he doesn't wake up in Mandos. He doesn't wake up in the Void either.
Maybe for the better, given what happened with the Teleri and them waiting in the Halls of Mandos thereafter.
He wakes up elsewhere. Re-embodied, no scarring, on the body at least, marring his skin. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s in a different world. With none of his kin.
A world where he couldn't feel the Valar, Maiar, the Song or Eru or anything that could point him on the way home. On a side note, the world he was in was round. Talk about unsettling revelations.
There were also beings he never heard of, and creatures he didn't recognize. And ones he did, concerned him greatly.
Humans were beings that aged, got sick and died easier than one would like, but also changed in a span of thousand years unrecognisably.
And they weren't the only highly sapient and sentient beings there.
Wherever he was, it wasn't Arda anymore. In some places, similar enough he could adjust and learn, in some places, vastly different. Ages past, and his search for a way home to Arda yields nothing still.
He settles in one place, for a while. If only for a brief respite from his hopeless search. It’s also the moment he finds the Weasleys, who adopted him not long after meeting. ("I mean, red hair, on the edge of poverty and barmy-looking? You're already a family." As a former prince, he was indecisive whether to feel touched or insulted.)
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His course of idle life as an eccentric cousin/uncle Weasley that is shrouded by mystery, changes with time. 20th century is the time everything came and went way quicker than he is used to, and moved so fast it was hard to keep up with. Seriously, Amrod went camping for fifty years and now they have a carriage without a horse called a car. What gives?
But his interest was piqued then, once technology of humans exceeded those he remembered from his home.
But his newfound interest in muggle trinkets wasn't the only thing that happened. He decided to once again attend a magical school, just like he promised to Sylvia Pembroke, centuries ago. (In the past, his magic did not work the same way it did to others, not until after blood adoption from the before mentioned Weasleys.)
It's also the place where he met her.
Fierce, with hair burning like fire, and vast knowledge on how to hurt a person psychically and emotionally, Molly Prewett was a force to reckon with. And one he fell in love at first sight.
It was but only a single spark traveling between them that made Amrod realize his interest in marriage began now. An accomplished duellist and a promising future to her name, their eyes met, and Amrod promptly lost himself in her gaze.
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Amrod Feanorion was born with pride and a family name known for vast skillset and high standing, that never made him doubt the person who marries him would be anything but unhappy. At least not in inadequacy of gifts, jewellery adorning their necks and respect along with high sought position even as the youngest of the seven children.
Arthur Weasley though, he was a poor wizard and highly speculated bastard child whose background was terribly sketchy in parts. The Hat remembers him from hundreds of years ago, and he is sorted into Gryffindor, right where his other half was. She’s 17, an adult in her last year, and he’s an elf, masquerading as a human of the same age.
He's got nothing but the title of pureblood to his name which he resents and is all but a lie (Amrod knows magic doesn't strengthen up if you wed two uncomfortably close cousins. It's also abhorrible in, well, everything. Especially if you do the same generations afterwards and they are forced.)
Molly was already pureblood and did not believe this nonsense either, which added to her loveliness. But the point stands, he didn't really have anything to give her, last of the seven and the fact he arrived penniless and completely stranded. He may have lived long, but his collections aren’t ones that can be sold, too dear or invaluable because of their nature.
Regarding titles, it would take his entire family to disinherit and die for him to even be considered for the position. Both here and back in Arda.
He wasn't good in any craft, not really finding his real area of expertise, back in Aman trailing after Celegorm still. His motivational and conversationalist speeches would shame his entire family and he was currently so poor he couldn't really afford to even try to make something that would make her look his way. (He will never again disrespect Carnistir for his financial obsession.) His hands trail to tinkering with things, many yielding disastrous results, but he wouldn’t call that a craft as much as experimentation.
In the end, it's Molly who catches him unaware, practically tearing into him in a cabinet and only the intervention of Professor McGonagall was what saved him from flash marrying in a quidditch changing room. (To be honest, if it did happen, he wouldn’t have minded.) McGonagall’s offended look will remain seared in his mind for eternity and then some.
They marry right after graduating anyway.
He doesn't have anything to give her, political station, power, title or money. He knows that. But when they lay bare, close to each other, such things don’t matter. He has no illusion over how long their relationship will last. It will be a lifetime. Her lifetime, that is. He knows. The risk, the pain of mortality, of her inevitably leaving, and yet, the selfish part of him, the lonely part that was left here, lost and alone, craves companionship. And even if it turned out to be a short while, for one and half century is indeed such a short time for love, it burns so blazingly, the flickering passion from one to another, that he can’t bring himself to regret.
"Do you love me, Arthur?" Molly asks, her eyes looking at him, his reply being the decisive matter on how their relationship will go.
The answer is simple. And true. "I do. More than anything." He says, and he means it. He loves her. He does, so so much.
"Then that's all we need." And she leans in to kiss him, for that was all she needed to hear..
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"I think I take after my mother." Confesses Amrod in the dark of their bedroom in a small shack they made just for themselves. Pair of Weasleys. Living in The Burrow. The joke doesn’t escape him.
"In what way?" Molly asks. By now, she knows of his secrets and yet despite that, she loves him still. They love each other for everything. His cursed eternity, her fleeting life.
"I found myself a partner that everyone thinks is too good for me." Whereas he was unremarkable.
Molly was a powerful witch, everyone felt it. He felt it. Right now, Amrod wasn't as beautiful as he once was, glamour making him as average as one can be. He was poor, his adoptive family was too muggle positive, they weren't taken as a respectable company and yet still he married arguably well.
Molly was pretty, gorgeous, even. She knew and mastered spells quicker than others. She also had many suitors who sought after her, for her powers, name, looks.
And she settled for him while he didn't have anything he had prided himself on having before.
Sharp eyes of one Molly Guinevere Weasley née Prewett zeroed on him.
"ARTHUR SEPTIMUS WEASLEY. YOU BETTER LOOK AT ME WHEN I SAY THIS.” She shouts, her voice sharp, finger sharply jabbing into his chest. “I didn't marry you for money. Or politics. If I wanted just that, I would have chosen another. I married you because we fell in love, and sometimes, that's all that matters. It does. For me.” Just then, the sharp finger softened into a hand, gently touching his chest in a reassuring and intimate gesture.
“There is no other man I love more than you and no amount of money can buy love or happiness.” Molly sighs, resting her head on him.
“I won't pretend life won't be hard, but you don't get to pretend I am a frail lady who married you without knowing that we will face struggles to begin with. The decision to marry was ours and we are in this together." She says firmly, allowing no arguments.
Not on this.
There’s a reason Amrod loves her.
They share an intimate kiss, a night, a bed where all worries were, if only briefly, just a stray thought.
Amrod learned to let go of worries plaguing his mind. For a while at least.
The doom that used to loom over him, no longer weighted on him as badly after millennia living, in part, he suspects, may be due to the missing the Song, the light of Arda and the distinct lack of Valar. But lately, for unknown reasons, he felt his oath bonds snap, which brought him a lot of confusion, relief and worry about what could have happened.
He long entertained the idea of looking for a way back, and now, besides his wife, it remained such. An idea. There will come time, his wife will die, he knows, she knows, and when that happens- well, he is well used to loss. Humans are fleeting beings and as much as it hurts to lose them, he doesn’t deal well with being alone. He can resume searching, after, after, their love comes to pass. But be it her current form, be it, her old and grey, be it her lying in her casket or be it she, taking away in a form of dust, he would love her still.
But not all is perfect, as he wishes things to be. The war is starting to take over their lives, and they sire their first child in the beginning of it. He didn’t even know it was possible to sire children with the mortal equivalent of Maias. Then again, with their history of creatures in the bloodline, it would have been more of a surprise if they didn’t.
Molly didn’t expect it either, not with him himself doubting the possibility, but she’s ecstatic to expect a child, despite the brewing war.
It's unwise. Downright dumb to sire children during times of unrest. And nothing an Eldar would typically risk.
Of course, that's what he thinks first, before he realizes Molly is human. Human, mortal, perhaps maia-adjacent, a witch. Humans don’t plan pregnancies as much as just have them. It’s baffling for him, whose knowledge of siring children was of sacrificing a part of their fëa to mix up together to make a progeny.
And another thought occurs, much more jarring.
Wixen live long, but not forever. No matter how similar he looks to the humans now, he was still an Elda in his fëa. And he does, fit that is, if only outwardly, because while ‘Earth’, adoption and whatever Powers rule this place may change his body as it likes, his fëa, a proof of his origins of being a child of Eru, remains elven. But what the foreign world did not change about him, marriage could. He does feel a change within himself, once the marriage bond sets, one of the things that he knows will stay with him long after she’s gone, embedded deep into his heart.
Molly is fire personified. His wife can have a temper of the hottest fire in the forge, but also can simmer down to a gentle flame in a fireplace, smothering with care. And it is one that warms him into pursuing a step deeper relationship with a human than before..
Marriage is an indescribable experience, two souls clicking together like a piece of puzzle, for as much as their lives are different, they match, regardless of race, background and world they live and lived in. It is also what makes him seem more ‘human’ , their Fëas influencing each other.
“You’re pregnant?” Amrod repeats after Molly confesses the first time she's pregnant, because it’s the third time she vomited food because it didn’t smell good. We can have children? Is another, as after confessing his immortality to Molly, he just assumed pregnancy can’t happen, regardless of how many times Molly reminded him of cases that also shouldn’t have been possible but were born anyway.
He regrets not listening, as his wife now carries his child.
"I’m not getting rid of the baby, Arthur.” She says firmly, daring him to even suggest such, taking his horrified look as refusal of their child and possibility of him pressuring her to miscarry. If anything, that horrified him a lot more, for an elf, a pregnancy wasn’t something you just get rid of. Much less do accidentally, which Amrod sees, he’s probably first to do so.
“No, no, I mean it’s- I just- I didn’t know we could have babies i- I- I’m going to be a father- Oh my- By the- I’m really… going to be a father?” He’s nowhere ready but ready all the same. And then they both cry in the bathroom for a while, Amrod promising that of course he’s staying.
He still does feel uneasy though.
In elven terms, it was a very dangerous thing to happen, especially given how much soul and force is poured into creation of a Fëa. Doing it during wartime was nothing but suicide. It was why Noldor limited their births 100 years before sailing, foreboding feelings of dread and anticipation stopping them from siring temporarily.
And those who didn't heed the warning in their head, were the ones that didn't sail at all. In the end, the phrase “They’ll figure it out, somehow.” becomes a favourite saying of theirs.
William Arthur Weasley is expecting a child in the wake of war.
And then another.
And another.
It becomes clear, Molly liked the multitude of children they had despite the stress and danger. If anything, there was a perverse thrill in it.
"How many children do you want to have?" He asks her exasperated, right when Percy is born. He’s really contemplating naming him Carnistir, because Percy’s red puffy cheeks remind him of his brother in an anger fit. He has enough self-preservation to not do so on the off-chance it would come bite him someday.
"I always wanted a daughter." Is her cryptic answer instead of a clear number. She coos at her 3rd child, showing their now 4-year-old son Bill his newest brother.
Amrod is wise enough not to say that as a Fëanorion, uncle to Celebrimbor, and him being blood adopted by the human Weasleys, who had a bad track record of not siring a daughter since he was adopted which was generations ago, there is very little hope for a girl to be born.
Who knows, four is a lucky number. Certainly, more than 7.
Not.
The twins are born, last of the siblings to ever be born outside a healer’s hall. The sight of two identical children caught his breath in an instant. And-
Twins. Like him. It filled him with both dread and happiness.
"Maybe the twins are the sign of an end?" he suggests, taking the babies to himself. He coos at the small things he holds in his arms. Bill holds Percy as Charlie curiously scoots over, pinching his newest brother’s cheeks.
He looks at the twin on the left. Something tells him, the baby takes more after him than he thinks.
The name Umbarto rolls in his tongue. He holds the name between his teeth, words never leaving his tongue. Sometimes, in the faraway future, he thinks that’s what saved his son.
Instead, the left child is named Fred and next to him George.
He and his brother aren’t the only twins appearing in his vision, the twins of his wife appearing too, and, in the end, the twins end up carrying their names too.
"Nonsense Arthur, my family had me after the twins. I'm sure this is a sign." Molly says determinedly, before kissing her children’s cheeks.
They still have many children afterwards.
And there lies an unspoken agreement between them, one they know and acknowledge. For while he loves Molly, his love for his children would make him rip his own heart out of his chest. And he knows Molly thinks the same as her eyes snap to complete adoration, staring at the children they have and will have.
They love each other, undeniably. Yet watching their children, inheriting a piece of them, makes the love up so much more potent and lasting.
Ron is arguably the smallest baby he’d ever seen, and he’s born from him. He’s extremely premature, for whatever reason, and so, so much smaller than any of his previous sons and daughter he had a year after. It terrifies him.
“He’s just born early, Arthur.” Molly whispers softly. “The healers reassured he’s completely fine.”
“He’s so small.” Arthur sobs. “What if he breaks?”
He’s tiny. He could carry him with one hand alone. Ronald was palm sized. No one knows the cause of Ron needing, magically demanding, to be born so early, and they have no answers to the phenomenon. But the moment is etched into his memory, as his son takes a far too shallow breath for his liking. He’s a small, red underdeveloped thing that was born far too unprepared for the world and struggling to go by. He looks like he’d break if Amrod handled him a single bit wrong. It’s something that haunts him for many years to come.
He cried the first time Bill was born. Joy overflowing uncontrollably. Other occasions were no less joyous, but often, they were accompanied with laughs and happy screaming unlike the first time. This one, is filled with worry, so much fear, that Ron will become just a gravestone of someone not yet realized. He knows the stories of mortals, of unfortunate miscarriages. He fears his son will be just like that, too. A footprint of remembrance of what could’ve been. He couldn’t relax, then, and reminisces about these moments, when looking at pictures.
Another pregnancy is a false call. Then there was Ginny, who they were expecting to be a boy for her strong kicks.
Ginny’s birth, which involved screaming of epic proportions and his baby girl looking like she fought herself out rather than got pushed out, was a much more welcome change to Ron's.
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Amrod Feanorion finishes speaking, looking at his children, expecting a reaction. For a while, no one speaks.
It is hard to do so too, as Molly Weasley has been dead for less than a few weeks.
Of things that happened but weren’t incorporated:
1> Accidental magic
There are many types of accidental magic kids do through their childhood, but some happen more frequently, that being:
The twins weaponised their accidental magic to do pranks. Not always did it work, but when it did, it was great. It ranged from colouring hair to creating sink holes out of nowhere.
Bill tended to apparate to people when he really needed to find them. He never gets lost because once he feels like being lost, his anxiety causes him to get to any person he knows. Amrod and Molly had to take a long trip to get him back from France, once. He finds his wayward siblings like that too. The younger Weasleys just think he’s always there when he appears beside them where he wasn’t before.
Charlie summoned animal shaped things to him, one victim being Errol. Amrod had to weed out the garden of anything dangerous, so Charlie won’t call them to himself, no matter how well he got with them. Seeing Charlie calling an adder towards his crib was quite enough of a scare.
Percy is more tame in comparison to the rest of his family. He used small magic like organizing stuff, and made pages of books move by themselves, occasionally making his own preferred ending by wish-editing a book.
Ron’s accidental magic was the vanishing charm. Lowkey something that protected him rather well from the twins. Like, if he was overwhelmed with fear, it would cause those things to disappear. Like the transfigured spider. He never got the plush back though. :((
Ginny floated, at one point, Amrod walked with her tied to a rope like a balloon, before Molly got the wind of it.
“She likes it.” Says Amrod.
“She needs to learn to walk one day.” Says Molly.
Neville protected himself, protection accidental magic was much more frequent for all his relatives ‘testing’ his magic.
Harry's accidental magic was retaliation towards those that wrong him.
Hermione’s accidental magic was conjuring or summoning books from somewhere.
Hannah could do mostly the cheering charm, and made small bruises magically heal with her bowing on them.
Luna could enchant objects she made. Like, she once made a pasta necklace and said it would protect them from some variant breed of Nargles, and much to Amrod's horror, it did have a protection charm imbued in it. He tried to reverse engineer it a multitude of times, but it will remain a mystery the same way Silmarils are.
(Why am I mentioning them? Find out the next chapter!)
2>Amrod’s short hair
Charlie’s role playing as a dragon caused Amrod’s hair to catch on fire. Accidental magic at its finest. Molly insisted he still looked great with hair as short as they are now. He kept them like that because he’s a useless simp.
It is not at all because he got millennial flashback to the ships-
3>Bowl cut Weasleys.
Amrod tried to get everyone to have long hair. It was ok with Molly, until they realised, none of the children save Ginny, have the patience to care for them. Molly at one point in life tried to comb their hair, but she got seven kids to take care of, and some hair just isn’t salvageable.
Bill, despite insisting on having long hair, refuses to take proper care of them. When Amrod ruffles his hair once, after Bill gets his job, he’s traumatised. The things he touched in those hairs-
Bill’s fang earring tends to get tangled up in those curls too, so the earring looks like it’s hanging from the hair instead of the ear. Some of the hair is tangled in it too.
When Molly finally gets the moment to cut them off, she dusts the hair, to see crumples of some dusted tomb remains fall from it. That was the better option. The worst are something awful and slimy and alive writhing inside it. There’s a moment of grieving silence from the couple when they see that.
Bill still magically grows back his hair when that happens, which means Amrod has limited time to ruffle his clean, properly cared for hair, before it becomes a monstrosity again.
Charlie, well, it isn’t exactly wise to have long hair when dealing with dangerous creatures. Amrod has to reluctantly agree as his own hair caught on fire when on the burning ship. Knowing that Charlie works with dragons, he doesn’t want him to get yanked to his death. (Somewhere in a whole another universe, Glorfindel sneezes.)
Percy follows current trends, and with the exception of Malfoy, everyone had short hair. It was practical too. Which… Amrod can’t argue against it. Hilariously, the only reason Lucius Malfoy has long hair is because Amrod had them, and they looked far better on him than they would ever look on Malfoy.
The twin’s prank mishaps forced Molly to shave them completely bald 137 times and counting. She’s surprised the hair even got the time to grow.
Ron is the victim of pranks. No long hair for him either. The amount of stuff in those.
Ginny is Molly’s treasure. As in, Molly taught her all the self-defence tricks she can use only in certain circumstances. Ginny would bite her brothers if they so much as went close to her hair. She can, will, and is fully ready to retaliate in the worst way possible if the twins took even an inch of her well-groomed hair. She wants to be allowed to do things like them, not be considered another son.
4> Messy love
Amrod looked at Molly and it was love at first sight.
Molly just thought he was a cute pile of mess trotting around her but too shy to say something. Pulling him into that cabin was a good call.
His courting gift was a modified cassette player that played the cheekiest love song there was at the time. Molly was ecstatic.
5> Older brother childcare
Bill witnessed all pregnancies.
Charlie doesn’t know how to raise children. Percy was a mystery to figure out, and at some point, Charlie just tended to think of looking after his siblings like caring for Magical Creatures after the third year.
Somehow, it works out. Bill was too preoccupied with his own studies to notice Charlie has been keeping twins in a cage, Percy on a leash and bribing Ron with treats and affection. Ginny meanwhile spent her time with Luna.
Despite all of this, or maybe because of this, Ron’s favourite brother is Charlie.
Bill: *looks at the chaos*
Bill: All you had to do was to put them to sleep.
Bill: You literally had ONE job.
6> Begetting worries
So, anyway, pregnancy with Celebrimbor did not go well. Like, for Curufin especially. His wife was fine. Curifin was the one who suffered. It would have been hilarious if they didn’t have a precedent for who died to it. There were fears that Curufin might take off, the same way Míriel did, so they later had a deep discussion about creating children and the state of fëa during it.
Curufin due to that, ended with just one son, and others were uncertain of having their own, seeing how Curufin, despite how his name describes him to be most alike to their father, had such a near death experience during it. And then Silmarils happened. :(
Ambarussa remembers that moment too, and now Amrod’s sporting 12 children in total which is wild.