Disclaimer: Characters as well as some of the dialogue belong to JK Rowling

In Molly's Eyes

"It's the same every year, packed with Muggles of course!" Molly yelled, corralling her line of children and their odd assortment of luggage into a semblance of order. Molly sighed. It was like herding geese (goslings?) on a sugar high, the twins especially. Making sure to keep them in sight she kept a firm hand on her youngest son, Ron's shoulder to keep him moving forward. Ginny had been sulking lately so she also had to keep an eye out for the shortest redhead, whose bottom was lip shoved out for maximum effect. It was during one of these checks when she noticed a small boy pushing a large trunk and an owl across the platform.

The boy was looking at her cautiously, and she guessed at his question. The boy was obviously a first year student at Hogwarts, but where were his parents? Turning her attention back to her passel of children, she marshaled her troops through the gateway Percy, then Fred, or was it George? and then the other. When it came to be Ron's turn the young boy approached. "Excuse me, ma'am," he started timidly, "I was wondering if you could tell me how to..." the boy faltered.
"How to get onto the platform?" Molly supplied, her heart going out to the boy, "Not to worry dear, it's Ron's first time to Hogwarts as well." She said, gesturing towards Ron. The boy smiled and Molly got a good look at him as she explained how to run at the wall to find platform 9 ¾. What she saw twisted her heart a little more. The boy was far too thin and it wasn't just the absurdly baggy close she was wearing either. Not to mention that the boy was at a busy train station, going to a boarding school, all alone. And yet here he was. After she finished her explanation, the boy thanked her politely, took a long look at the platform, squared his shoulders and ran straight through without the slightest hesitation. Molly was taken aback. A boy it with obviously Muggle parents and no knowledge of magic, could steal himself to defy the rules of his world so easily? She smiled to herself. She had a pretty good idea what house he would end up in.

After the boy went through she gathered up her youngest children, Ron with his trunk, and Ginny with her hands clutched around her skirts, and bustled them through the passageway. After all they only had ten minutes before the train left, they were always cutting it close. If it hadn't been for Arthur and his unfathomable interest in that muggle contraption, what was it? A parking meter? They would have been here about an hour ago. He's probably still fawning over t that thing, she thought, huffing a bit.

"Alright, are you ready? You've got your trunk, and Scabbers, your jumper, you brought your jumper right?" Ron made a face, and Molly smiled. Even though she had done it so many times, it was still hard to see your kid grow up. Taking out her handkerchief she wet it in her mouth and rubbed Ron's nose where a black spot had cropped up. She was in the middle of wrestling with the spot and her son's protests when Fred and George popped back for a last goodbye…or so she thought.

"Did you know who that was on the platform?" George started.

"It was Harry Potter!" Fred finished. "Really and truly! We saw his scar!" Molly's heart dipped.

"Oh, no wonder he was alone," she said, "I did wonder… poor boy, and he was ever so polite when he asked to get on the train." Molly's voice trailed off, her mind on the few instances that she had seen the Potters at the Order of the Pheonix. They were nice people, brave, upstanding, just the kind of person you would expect in a movement fighting the darkest wizard of all time. She was pulled back to reality by the twin's comment, "I wonder if he remembers what You-Know-Who looked like!"

"I forbid you to ask him! Both of you!" Molly ordered, her voice firm. That boy has had enough hardship as it is.

That night she lay in bed with Arthur thinking of the grand new year ahead of her sons, and ahead of that small black haired boy riding the train to Hogwarts for his first time. Molly was pleased at the wonder on his face, but also saddened. For that boy to grow up without his parents, and with obviously not much experience in the magical world- it was such a shame. And the Potters had seemed like such nice people, it wasn't right that loving parents should die before they have a chance with their kid. Molly didn't know the Potters that well at all. She and Arthur had already been married when they joined the Order, and they were just in different circles. The Potters had Remus, Pettigrew and—Molly's hands clenched—Black for friends, they'd been together all their years at Hogwarts, and weren't exactly looking for company.

She and Arthur didn't have much time for company with all their kids, and the Potters tended to stay in Godric's Hollow with their money. Not that they weren't willing to share, the family had offered the Weasley's and other members of the Order a share of the fortune many times –Mundungus had practically lived off their charity—but they just weren't in the same social groups. It was sad for them when the young couple had died, but it was quickly overshadowed by the all-encompassing relief of the Dark Lord's disappearance. Molly remembered that night as one of the best in her life, hugging an infant Ron to her chest and lying with Arthur in the grass outside watching a shower of shooting stars as they washed over London, their children safe in the house behind them.

She hadn't thought much at all about young Harry who had been orphaned that night, it was easy to get distracted with the rest of the wizarding world, but seeing him board the train earlier had brought it back into sharp perspective. Here is one boy, she thought, who will never remember that Halloween as a day of happiness. This is the boy-who-lived, but it's also the boy-whose-parents-died, a boy who is alone in the magical world. Molly sighed and turned over towards Arthur who was fast asleep and snoring like Swedish Short-Snout with chest congestion. She hoped beyond hope that little Harry would find some good friends at Hogwarts.

Christmas later that year; The Burrow.

Dear mom,

I got your letter that you're going to Romania. No fair! Hogwarts is really fun, but don't tell Fred and George that I said that. I really want to Chudley Cannon's bedspread for Christmas please! I'm doing fine at school but McGonagall doesn't like me so don't worry about the Transfiguration grade. By the way, Harry and Hermione are fine, but Harry said that he has never gotten a Christmas present before, and I thought that was sad. Could you get him something?

Say hi to Charlie for me,

Love,

Ron

Molly crushed the letter two her chest with a melancholy smile, the last line of the letter ringing in her ears. It had been almost four months since she saw little Harry Potter boarding the train and since a friendship had blossomed between he and her son. She was delighted that they had both found friends, and she had to admit she had kind of liked the little bit of limelight she got when passing other mothers in Diagon Alley. "Yes," she always said, "My son, Ron, you know, he's best friends with Harry Potter." It embarrassed her afterwards, acting like a starstruck ten year old trying to grasp her five minutes of fame, but it still felt a little good. It was still pretty fun to bring it up in casual conversation and be known as someone besides the "woman with not enough money for too many kids". But then time went on, and more and more details trickled through the somewhat unreliable source of her youngest son's letters. It was things like this that began to worry her: the fact that he never got letters from home, that one precious letter where Ron described the look on Harry's face when the food appeared on the golden plates, and now this. How was it that this brave, kind and ever-so-polite boy was not expecting any Christmas presents?

Even in the toughest of times, she and Arthur had always managed to find enough money for Christmas presents for all the kids, the idea that the hero of the wizarding world—no, more importantly a young boy—would not get anything? It appalled her, making her want to cry and hit something at the same time. Ginny found her in the kitchen, still clutching the letter to her chest while charming another set of needles she had conjured to sew another sweatshirt: a green one.

"Who's that for?" Ginny asked. Molly just smiled and walked forward to envelope her daughter in a long and warm hug.

"Someone in need of a good chocolate pie, I think. Want to help?"
"Yeah!" Ginny yelled, her eyes lighting up at the question. She turned and made her way to the kitchen, laughing. Molly followed behind her skipping daughter slowly, watching as her bright red hair swayed back and forth. She was going to make a whole lot of pies for this boy's Christmas…then she'd have to talk to Dumbledore about him coming to stay at her house for the summer.

One year later...

The boys had worried her sick, the danger of being seen among others, all the faces on the clock pointing towards mortal danger as they hurtled through the air in the enchanted Ford Anglia. A wooden spoon in hand, she waited at the doorway livid. She had already started her rant, raging at the boys for their complete disregard for her rules, not to mention the Wizarding ones, when suddenly the small boy in tow caught her attention, immediately bringing her temper down.

It was Harry Potter, the boy she had seen only once before at Platform 9 3/4. She had heard so much about him over the summer; about his tremendous bravery and the friendship between him and her son. She already felt the boy had been through too much hardship, and now…

Molly had to bite her tongue to keep from crying. He was extremely thin and his cheeks had a gaunt hollowness to them that shadowed his eyes and aged him innumerably. As she stepped towards him, she saw his eyes dart to the wooden spoon she still clutched and take an instinctive step back. Molly almost screamed in rage. How could they do this to this boy?

Forcing herself to be calm she bustled off to the kitchen, and began making a meal for the boys, although she banged the pots and pans down on the stove, and started cutting the potatoes with a little more violence than was necessary. She heaped Harry's plate high, and winced at his astonished look. When he finished he quietly sat until everyone was done. There was a general clamor for seconds but Molly denied them. Harry asked for none.

"Do you want some more Harry?" Molly asked. Harry looked petrified at the question, he looked around at the others to a just been denied seconds.

"Um... No. I'm fine." He said, but Molly caught his eyes lingering longingly at the sausage and potatoes on the stove. Sighing, Molly it heaped another helping onto his plate and watched him wolf it down with satisfaction, until suddenly he looked panicked, his face turning a slight shade of green. Recognizing the look from her many years of baby burping, she rushed the desperate the boy to the bathroom, where he threw up. Molly cursed herself the not regulating how much or how fast he ate, especially after Ron said they had been starving him…but Ron's comment was just a child's exaggeration…right?

A croaked whisper came from the floor at her feet where she held the young boy.

" 'M sorry." Harry whispered.

Molly gasped, "For what dear?"

"I wasted all your food," his eyes tearing up, "I know you don't have much to begin with. You shouldn't have taken me; I'm too much of a burden."

The black haired child started to hiccup wetly. Forcing back tears, Molly knelt down next to Harry, looking into his eyes.

"Listen to me Harry," she said forcefully, "you will never, ever be a burden to us. Our problems are our own and I will not have you adding to your already heavy burden by adding mine, do you understand me?"

Harry nodded weakly.

"Good." she said with finality, "Now let's get you out of these clothes." Cradling the boys head in her neck, she carried him to Ron's room where Ron was waiting anxiously for his friend. "He's alright," she told her son, "he just needs some rest and some quiet, okay Ron? Get dad to make you up a bed upstairs." Ron nodded, smiled to his friend and went to find his father downstairs. Sitting Harry down on Ron's bed, Molly pulled his shirt off to replace it with one of Ron's. Harry jumped as sparks flew out of Molly's wand.

"What is it Mrs. Weasley?"

"…It..It's nothing dear."

Molly gently tucked him in bed, gingerly avoiding touching his back, and went downstairs. Late that night, Arthur sat rocking Molly back and forth and she sobbed into his chest. Concern was etched into his face as he held his wife who usually never broke her stoic attitude. "All over his back, Arthur! And on his arms too! Deep purple bruises and he never said a thing! For all I know his arm is broken! It looks all awful! How could they, how could anyone do that to a child?" The wracking sobs filled her again, and she devolved into silence, memories of what she had seen flashing in front of closed lids. She could see the outline of the belt buckle in the soft skin of his back, and the welts. Most had healed over, but the scars were there, bright pink and shiny like a burn. It tore her apart. She cried until she fell asleep and Arthur gently laid her down on the bed, and pulled the covers up.

Tip-toeing up to Harry's room, Arthur slowly pulled back his covers to see what Molly had described. He hissed in sympathy. It was worse than he had imagined. Fighting back his seething anger he brought his wand out and hovered it over the boy. The deep purple welts melted away, and the green and yellow bruises on his arms lightened. Arthur watched as the boy's emaciated frame visibly relaxed, the youngster's breathing becoming easier. Falling onto his knees, He laid his hand on the bed beside Harry's small, peacefully sleeping figure and let tears slide down his cheeks and onto the mattress.

"Harry," he whispered, "I promise I will never let anything like this happen again."

(A/N) I know it's not the most original but it was irresistible. This is my first fanfic, please review and tell me what you think!