108 Birthday Celebration - Part 4

"A few of the older, more infirm ones," Tonks replied heavily. "Miserable creatures. I suspect some of the ones that stayed did so simply for the easy prey. They didn't want to have to go and look for their own food. Doesn't matter that there aren't many left, however. The walls of Azkaban are nearly alive with their scent because they've been there so long. It's a horrid place."

Mrs. Weasley shuddered. "I can't believe they send you there. I remember when Arthur had to go out there once. It took him days to recover," she said tearfully.

Mr. Weasley comfortingly squeezed her hand. "Now, Molly. Someone has to guard the prisoners, don't they? There really isn't another option."

"I think the Ministry should consider building an entirely new prison, away from the effect the Dementors have had on Azkaban," Bill said. He and Fleur had recently returned from their honeymoon and both were tanned and appeared well-rested. "We could use charms to keep them incarcerated and house-elves to supply the food."

"Zat is what we do in France," Fleur said, staring at Bill adoringly. "Eet eez a much better way, I zink."

"Maybe after the war, something like that will be done here. Right now, all the Ministry's resources are focused on You-Know-Who and the destruction he's causing," Mr. Weasley said heavily.

The paper had reported new Dementor attacks almost daily while the Dark Mark had been seen more and more often in Muggle areas. During the past week, several buildings had caught fire in Birmingham and despite their best efforts, Ministry officials had been unable to extinguish the flames.

"When we're finished with dinner, I've made a treacle tart for pudding. That one is your favorite, isn't it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, glaring at both Bill and Mr. Weasley.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. Despite wanting to hear more about what was happening at Azkaban, he couldn't help but be pleased with the prospect of Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart.

Conceding to Mrs. Weasley's desire for a happier subject, the rest of the guests let talk of the war rest for the moment. The remainder of the dinner was spent pleasantly with laughter and the twins' teasing of Ron about his first failed attempt at gaining an Apparation license.

All of them were so immersed in the festivities that no one noticed the kitchen door opening once again. Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the kitchen with a wary expression, carrying a stack of empty trays. She walked towards the sink and placed them next to it, glancing with distaste at the countertop.

"Narcissa," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "Would you care for something to eat?" Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley didn't jump up to serve her as she usually did when someone entered the kitchen.

Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. "I don't believe it. She brought the trays down. She must be hungry; she hasn't eaten all day."

Mrs. Malfoy appeared affronted by the invitation. "I'd prefer to take a tray upstairs," she said stiffly.

"Well, there's plenty of food, and I see you've brought down some trays. You'll just have to clean them up since there aren't any clean ones left, and then you can help yourself," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. She turned towards her own dinner without a backward glance.

Mrs. Malfoy stood slack jawed, staring with revulsion at Mrs. Weasley. Her long, bony white fingers gripped a tray in shock. "Certainly, there are house-elves to do such things," she said, aghast.

Mrs. Weasley smiled and shook her head. "Oh, not since Kreacher left for Hogwarts. Not that he was ever much help anyway. No, we all have to pitch in with the chores around here if we want anything to get done."