HP: Molly Weasley of Gryffindor
molly weasley
GENRE: Harry Potter
ARCHETYPE: The mother to end all mothers.
REPRESENTATIVE JOURNAL ENTRIES: ONE
REPRESENTATIVE ROLEPLAY LOGS: ONE
PERSPECTIVE ESSAYS: Forthcoming!
NAME: Molly Grace Weasley, née Prewett
DATE OF BIRTH, AGE: 30 October 1951, 27 in 1978, would-be 57 as of 11 March 2008
AFFILIATIONS: Order of the Phoenix, Blood Traitors Anonymous, Gryffindor alumna.
PROFESSION: Stay at home mother and safe house guardian extraordinaire.
PERSONALITY: Even as a child, Molly Weasley had the instinct to nurture; scolding older brothers while sneaking them biscuits was all in a routine day in her childhood, and although she indulged in the typical girlish giggling and juvenile distractions during her stay at Hogwarts, Molly was known as a dependable shoulder to cry upon and get advice -- often whether the individual would request it or otherwise. She is a woman who lends herself to smoothing out wrinkles in mussed clothes, carefully cleaning scrapes, and, well, mollycoddling those around her; there are tales that Molly will heartily deny of licking her thumb and cleaning of smuts from her brothers' cheeks, much less her own children. With the absent-minded tidying, however, also comes the "Mother Knows Best" attitude, which often ends up clashing horrifically with the wishes of many (if not, Molly will oft bemoan, all) her loved ones. All she wants is for them to be safe -- so why can't they go ahead and manage it?
So, if they are to be risky, then Molly's only recourse is to be fierce and unapologetic in her defense. In the moment that her friends and family are placed within harm's way, she becomes Gryffindor's mother lion, all claws and rage, shrieking at the top of her lungs whether it is the time or place to do so. Although she will often use hexes and the like as a last resort, many don't fancy sticking around Molly mid-temper to find out what such things are like. Such anger, the force of nature that it is, tends to be explained nicely by the following phrase: If mama ain't happy, nobody is.
But Molly's interactions and reactions all hinge around the fact that she's an affectionate woman, and bold in her feelings. She's a woman who believes in the power of love, especially when applied to family, and will form attachments to people (thus absorbing them as makeshift children, siblings) without a second thought. She is as plain and honest with her feelings as she is her thoughts, and so it is painfully apparent to anyone who Molly Weasley holds in esteem and who she does not. There is no halfway in her love or her hate, and so while she will greet old school friends and Order members in cheerful, singing excitement, anyone of decidedly purist sympathies or in possession of a "hateful" attitude receive an icy reception at her kindest. Even if she were to try to hide displeasure, Molly would not fare well; her expressions tell volumes, and although she can act within the realm of politesse, her actions within such a realm is strained at best.
When at ease and within the heart of her family, with the best-case scenarios lined up perfectly, there are times when Molly can seem years younger than she is, all nothing but giggles and stars in her eyes. She's been known to get weak-kneed at the sight of Witch Weekly's pet heartthrob and offers to dance to Warbeck alike, and when she has the odd hour when all the children are asleep or otherwise occupied and a girlfriend or three are around for tea, Molly is the first to nurture a spirited conversation of gossip and giggling to a fevered pitch. Despite (or due to) constantly being surrounded by masculine influence, there isn't a shred of tomboyishness within Molly; as such, despite loving her many men as much as she does, she tends to gravitate towards female friends when altogether possible. A husband cannot appreciate looking at a nice gown, after all, nor the great wisdom within advice columns, as delightful as his companionship might be.
Yet in times such as these, with a family as noticably large as hers, Molly doesn't have much time to indulge in flights of fancy and tittering gossip -- nor does she allow herself to do as such. It was Molly's work ethic that made her a successful (if not outstanding) student, and her workhorse endurance aids her in her everyday experiences. She believes in the value of hard work and endurance, and Molly attempts to instill this philosophy in her children through example and a wee bit of sermonising during homeschooling. If she knows someone to have done his or her best and even, at that moment, managed to fail, Molly cannot fault them, for at least they tried. In that act, more than simply joining a side or anything else, it is easily said that one would win Molly Weasley's respect.
The whole entire "picking sides" thing, though, is important to Molly's bleeding heart and burning idealism. After all, she believes in merit and elbow grease (and, alright, more than a little bit of talent), and any word of being "lesser" due to blood status and physical condition (e.g.: lycanthropy) is a distasteful notion to Molly. She's known brilliance from the Muggleborn, Molly has, and cannot fault someone for a condition that the victim had no part in choosing. But it is choice that Molly finds so important as to her distaste, for it is a person's choice to be nasty and cruel to his or her fellow man -- or to work for the better benefit of all. If it was her mother that taught her to instinctively dust cinders off of a person's shoulder after getting out of the Floo grate, then it is her father that taught her to value a person's worth based on actions and mettle, and it's a lesson she holds nearest and dearest.
LIKES: Arthur (naturally), the very act of being a mother, her eldest Bill, darling Charlie, quiet Percy, her giggling twins, those daft brothers of her, family in general, soft woolen yarn, learning new knitting techniques, wooden needles, a handy Cleaning Charm, Witch Weekly, a good piece of meat that will provide her with a week's worth of meals, frugality, making the best of things, that dear old Charms professor she once had, a healthy household, safety, equality, strength of character, not being utterly frustrated by one of Arthur's daft escapades, not nursing a Gideon or Fabian hangover, a mischief-lacking household, entertaining, the sound of en masse laughter, a household of full stomachs, giving gifts, giving advice, Celestina Warbeck, singing whilst washing dishes, no garden gnomes, and hot tea.
DISLIKES: Threats against the family, a sick child, those vile Death Eater wastrels, excessive cursing, cleaning up after her husband or her brothers' messes, taking lip from anyone, foolish blood bigotry, infestations, filth, dropped stitches, sunburns, dragon pox, the miserable suffering of children with colic, cold feet, mud, a bad year for gardening, tomfoolery, questioning her authority within her domain, and the general assumption that she is a spoilsport.
HISTORY: Catherine Prewett, in retrospect, was somewhat disappointed that she had ventured into motherhood so late within her life. Certainly, she enjoyed her term as a Senior Healer in the Magical Bugs Ward at St. Mungo's, but there had been a certain pleasure in holding her first child in her arms that made every experience to that point pale in comparison. And so, the charm of stay-at-home motherhood -- something she hadn't thought she would ever think of with any remote fondness within her heart -- seduced her, to the surprise of husband Ed. Certainly, Catherine enjoyed the occasional flight of domestic fancy, he'd reckon, but then she'd go back to moaning about wasted potential and natterng about some case that's been teasing her mind just so before asking after his office gossip. Yet, as with the majority of anything within Ed's life, he took the change in his wife's career with the grace that he did most things; after all, to encounter such a thing as the wrath of Catherine as incurred by defiance was a special pain, and Ed fancied himself a man of common sense, if nothing else.
It was her eldest brother, Gideon, that inspired this catalyst; Molly came two years later, the last of the stair-stepped Prewett children, all nothing but smiles and chubby cheeks as soon as she left the womb. Most of her childhood was spent in the typical way of every lone sister in a household of elder brothers: demanding audience with anyone who would listen to her dire grievances against her horrid tormentors, who would lie in wait when she least expected it as she held reign over her teatime subjects and place horrible toads into her cups and hopping over saucers. Molly grew tough in such situations, as any young girl would have to, for no one can listen to the cries of the wronged every time, and so she soon grew quite clever in devising her own personal brand of justice, often in the form of accidentally dying underclothes pink whilst doing the wash, or perhaps mistaking boyish corduroys for her favourite skirt when placing overly feminine patches on the seat. Still, she adored Gideon and Fabian in the way that younger sisters always do, with their starry eyes and secret wishes to be included in the mysterious fun that the two boys always managed to have. She would bake special biscuits for them to have when they came in for lunch sometimes, mostly when Mum managed to have enough dough to spare, and attempt to tag along a time or three. But, in the end, most of her childhood before her enrollment at Hogwarts was spent at her mother's hand, learning everything from magical history to stew recipes. She cried when Gideon and Fabian went away to the castle without her, of course, but then she went home, dried her eyes, and tried her hand at cross stitch. It was what Molly did.
There was no doubt of Molly's letter within the Prewett household; changing the colours of butterflies in the garden at three and making popovers explode at the dinner table at seven were enough testament to Molly's destiny within Hogwarts's walls that even Gideon and Fabian didn't dare joke about that. The entire first-year Sorting fiasco, as it tends to be for the majority of eleven-year-olds going through Hogwarts's doors for the first time, was nothing but a joy for Molly's young eyes; so, too, was the Hat's decision to place her in Gryffindor. She and her dorm mates became fast friends with a penchant for giggling in courses when not entirely appropriate, listening to Celestina Warbeck whilst getting ready for Hogsmeade, and dog-earing issues of Witch Weekly. It would be a mistake, of course, to say that Molly allowed her mind and talent to go fallow during this time; her O.W.L.s were many, her favourite studies focused in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms, especially. As she grew in age and intellect, Molly's future looked to be bright and versatile -- perhaps she would go her mother's path and take up Healing, or maybe an entry position at the Ministry like her father? Molly was unsure, of course, but she worked so that she could keep her options open. It wouldn't do to hole herself in at such a young age, after all.
Molly's social circle was not wholly limited to that of her dorm mates; there was, it seems, always the question of one Arthur Weasley. Molly never quite remembers the exact moment when she met Arthur, of course, for it always seems as if he was an ever-present friendly face within the fabric of her childhood. Perhaps it was after the thrill of Sorting, over a shared meal of shepherd's pie and pumpkin patsies, or maybe at another moment within the Common Room, huddling over homework near the warmth of the fire. Nevertheless, what Molly does remember is how struck she was by his eccentricities (for Muggles are lovely, really, but are they as fascinating as he claims?), the sweetness of his manner, and his small and silly thoughtfulness. She certainly did not fancy him at first, for there were certainly a string of blond and toothy men before, but there was certainly no one after Arthur Weasley once her sixth year started. There was a lot of incidents of broom closets and even a detention or two as a result, but it was thrilling for Molly, who rather fancied the feelings Arthur managed to inspire. Her brothers, of course, did not fancy the feelings Arthur inspired nearly as much as she, but what was she to do? No one commanded Molly Prewett's heart or her mind, and so it was her own idea as much as Arthur's to elope upon graduation; as much as she would've adored to have a large wedding and the pomp and circumstance that she had planned in her childhood's flights of fancy, war and possible denial from her parents meant Molly and Arthur found it prudent.
The first meal between the newlywed Weasleys and the family Prewett was certainly awkward, but with careful cajoling and general proof of happiness, the union was soon met with approval and even a bit of pleasure. Molly's whirlwind romance, however, presented her with a choice that her mother had faced decades before: pursue a career or pursue making a home? Certainly, many things interested Molly in the academic sense: charmwork, for instance, or Transfiguration theory, but none of it quite touched her as the perfect solution. It was when she was in the midst of purchasing their first home, courtesy of loan beyond loan and what little bit of Arthur's entry-level Ministry paycheck could afford, that Molly felt her calling, and it was not for the halls of St. Mungo's or the offices of Gringotts. She took her mother's choice a decade early: Molly Weasley would be a housewife.
It was a few years before she had Bill, her first, but the house (which, Molly always felt, needed a name) was conspicuously empty with but one child. So, she managed Charlie two years afterwards, and Percy two years after that. By the time she found herself with twins, Molly had finally found a name (the Burrow; she found it quite clever, thank you) -- and a hobby to occupy the nervous hands that each pregnancy had given her. When Fred and George were born, it was in the wake of thousands of scarves birthed from this sudden fascination in knitting, which she attacked with the same vigorousness that she did with homeschooling the children, keeping them out of trouble, and feeding hungry mouths of both the toddler and adult variety. By this time, of course, her Burrow was a revolving door of Arthur's Ministry mates that, more or less, believed what she and Arthur did: that Muggleborn hatred was nonsense, blood purity an archaic ideal to uphold, and that the rise of certain Dark Lords could be countered with the knowing mind and talent of one Albus Dumbledore.
Molly had a faint idea of what her brothers were doing when Dumbledore himself came around the Burrow on the chance evening when the children were early to bed and the Weasleys' friends were curiously absent. He had asked Arthur, of course, but Albus knew of Molly's aptitude and heart as well and found it only prudent to ask her individually as to what she thought of being in an organisation devoted to an idea larger than herself. Molly, if nothing else, told Dumbledore what he already knew, and he offered her something she couldn't refuse: a chance to raise her children in a world where fear was no issue, equality was insured, and bigotry an archaic notion. So Molly Weasley too said that she would be a member of the Order of the Phoenix, joining arms with her husband and siblings, and although her current position seems to be more of a home front than anything else, there is a wise reason behind Albus Dumbledore's choice to ask her, and it is not merely because of a chivalric notion of making the little wife "included."
GAME(S) PLAYED: "froward" at Arpeggio at Greatestjournal.
STATUS: Active
PLAYED-BY: Jenny Lewis