Spring had sprung in Ottery St Catchpole. The trees along the riverbanks had burst into shades of emerald and sage, and the rolling fields were filled with wildflowers and young lambs. At The Burrow, the chickens were happily pecking their way around the courtyard, while the gnomes had taken over the garden. A ginger cat was attempting to stalk them, lionlike, through the overgrown grass, his fur gleaming like amber in the Sunday morning sunshine.

Artemis watched the scene from the kitchen window, a cup of tea in her hands. As Fergus the cat pounced on his would-be prey and missed it entirely, she stifled a giggle, feeling guilty for laughing at his misfortune. After all, he couldn't help not being as sprightly as he used to be.

"Those gnomes have been busy, Molly," she said to Mrs Weasley, who had joined her by the window with a plate of biscuits. "There's loads of them these days."

"Well, that's what happens when there are no young people around to help get rid of them," Molly replied. "The boys and Ginny are all too busy with their husbands and wives and little ones. Except for Charlie, of course, but then I can hardly expect him to come all the way here from Romania just to de-gnome the garden for me."

A chuckle came from the other side of the kitchen, and Artemis turned to see Charlie leaning against the fireplace, shaking his head slowly.

"I don't see why not," he laughed. "You've already put me up to all the other jobs that you want doing around here. Why not have me de-gnome the garden as well?"

"If you're offering, dear, I'm not going to say no."

"Course not. Alright, I'll deal with the gnomes for you. Just let me have a cup of tea first, I need a break from sorting out the roof."

Charlie took two biscuits from the plate Molly held in one hand, and she used the other to pat her son's cheek before summoning him a large mug filled to the brim with steaming hot tea.

"There you are, dear. Thank you for being so helpful."

"You're welcome, Mum."

"Oh, and Artemis!" said Mrs Weasley suddenly, as if she had only just remembered something important. "I have a job for you, too!"

Artemis frowned. "Really? What?"

"Well, I've bought some new dress robes for little Molly's christening. I'd love for your opinion on them before everyone else arrives for lunch."

"What about my opinion?" Charlie asked through a mouthful of custard cream. His mother tutted.

"Don't be silly, Charlie," she said, and she walked across the kitchen and up the stairs without a backwards glance. Charlie shrugged.

"Alright. Bit rude."

"Clearly, she thinks I dress better than you," said Artemis, giggling into her cup of tea. Charlie raised a single eyebrow at her. "What?"

"That's a very bold thing for you to say whilst wearing my shirt."

"This is mine," Artemis told him. "I've had it for years."

"That's funny, because I've been missing one just like that for years," said Charlie, and Artemis pulled the flannel material of the shirt that used to be his around her protectively.

"If you want it back, you'll have to fight me for it."

Charlie sighed and shook his head. "You're the worst."

"No, you are."

The sound of a woman's scream pierced the air, and Charlie put his mug down on the counter, his head snapping towards the top of the stairs.

"Mum?" he called out, already walking across the kitchen, one hand reaching for his wand. "Is everything alright?"

No response came. Charlie frowned and looked back at Artemis before starting to climb the staircase. In an instant, Artemis was a step behind him, her own wand drawn.

They made their way up to the landing, where the door of Mr and Mrs Weasley's bedroom was ajar. On the other side of it, Mrs Weasley was standing in front of an open wardrobe, teary-eyed and limply holding a pale blue dress, her husband's dead body at her feet.

Charlie's face blanched as he looked down at the floor, but a second later, the body disappeared with a loud crack, and was replaced with another, one that looked identical to his own. Artemis looked from the Charlie on the floor to the one at her side, and reached for his arm to check that he was really there. He was. Mrs Weasley shrieked in terror once more, and Artemis nodded her head, finally realising what was going on. Still, she swallowed hard before speaking.

"It's a Boggart, I think," she said, stepping forward and taking Charlie's mother by the hand. "Here, Molly. Let me deal with it."

She placed herself between Mrs Weasley and the body on the floor, which immediately vanished. There was another loud crack, and she found herself standing face to face with herself. As she watched her own features start to shift, she raised her wand, ready to banish the Boggart.

But, once its features had changed, she found that she was unable to do it. She was powerless, frozen to the spot as she stared blankly at the Boggart's new form - one she had never known a Boggart to take before.

The first time she had seen a Boggart at thirteen, she had found herself facing the Dark Lord Voldemort. A few years later, her Boggart had taken the form of witch who had killed her best friend in cold blood. Today, however, her Boggart had chosen to imitate someone else entirely, someone unexpected, someone who should not have made Artemis' throat turn to dust or her heart pound or her blood freeze in her veins.

Her mother.

Tears of confusion and frustration pricked Artemis' eyes as her mother's features shifted into her own and back again. She heard Charlie swear behind her, but his voice sounded strangely distant.

"Hey," Charlie's voice said. He spoke gently, but he sounded louder this time, and she felt his arm brush against the flannel material of her sleeve. "Why don't you deal with me instead?"

Slowly, Artemis' mother turned to look at Charlie, and as her eyes met his, she disappeared. In the place where she had been standing, a large spectral skull now hung in the air. The skull was green and cloudy, and glittered slightly in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. When it opened its mouth, a serpent protruded from it, and snaked through the air towards Charlie, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and the Dark Mark exploded like fireworks. He turned to Artemis. "Artie..."

"Don't touch me."

"I wasn't going to."

Charlie, as he said, made no move towards her, but still, Artemis flinched away from him. Seeming to realise that the air in the room had suddenly become too hot and too heavy for Artemis to breathe freely, he took a large step backwards and allowed her to walk past him, out of the room, down the stairs, and out to the garden, where she sat on the back doorstep with her trembling hands pressed to her hairline.

After what might have been a minute, or an hour, or three, she heard Fergus purring and felt his ginger body rub against her shin. She unfolded herself slightly to stroke one of his greying cheeks.

Fergus wasn't the only one wanting to check that she was okay, because in her peripheral vision she saw a flash of bright red hair. She looked up, expecting to see Charlie in the doorway, but it wasn't him. It was Molly, a cup of tea in one hand and a leatherbound book in the other.

"Here, dear," she said, bending down and placing the cup down on the step next to Artemis. "It's got sugar in. Good for the shock."

"Thanks."

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Artemis did not really care whether Molly sat with her or not, so she picked up the cup of tea and shuffled sideways to make room for Mrs Weasley to sit on the step beside her.

"Horrible things, Boggarts. You never really get used to seeing them."

"No."

"That was the first time you saw yours look like that though, wasn't it?"

If Artemis hadn't felt so shaken, she would have rolled her eyes.

"Charlie told you that, didn't he?"

"He didn't need to," said Molly. "I remember how it felt when my Boggart changed to what it is now. I hadn't seen one in a long time, and then after the war broke out... Well, you saw what it is now. Although, looking back, perhaps it changed to that earlier. I'd only ever seen one when I was very young. It might have been motherhood that changed it, as it changes lots of things." She placed her hand on Artemis' knee and looked at her with curious and concerned brown eyes. "When do you think your Boggart started looking like your mother, Artemis?"

"I dunno," Artemis replied. She moved her cup in her hands, the untouched tea swirling around it. "I haven't seen one in ages, not one that I've been facing, anyway. It changed once before, after Rowan died, but... It could've been any time. Maybe during the war, or before, like yours."

"Or since then, maybe."

"Yeah, maybe."

"It would make sense. After all, the idea of turning out like your mother would be a more pertinent worry for you these days."

"I dunno, Molly. I've never wanted to turn out like my mother."

"No woman ever does," Molly said conspiratorially, and Artemis let out a quiet laugh. "But now you're at the age where you're bound to be thinking about motherhood yourself..."

Artemis shook her head. "No. I mean, I have done, but the more I think about it, the less I want that. Motherhood, I mean." She looked at Molly and shrugged. "No offence."

"I'm not offended, dear."

"It's not that I don't like children. Although I don't really like them, except for Victoire and Dominique and the others, obviously. I like them." Artemis looked out beyond the garden fence at the rolling countryside that extended towards the horizon. "More than anything, though, I like being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want. I like being able to do what I want to do for me, without having to put anyone else first." Her teeth grazed her lip and she glanced back at Molly apologetically. "I know that sounds really selfish."

"No, it doesn't," Molly replied. "I think that's actually the hardest thing about having children, knowing that your life is no longer your own to lead. You lose a bit of yourself and a lot of your freedom. For you more than anyone, I can see why you wouldn't want to give that up."

"Yeah. I think that might be why my Boggart looks like that, like my mum. She had no freedom at all for years and years, and she was so hurt and so bitter about it that she lost almost all of herself. I don't want that for myself, not ever."

The garden was quiet, aside from Fergus' purr and the gnomes scurrying around beneath the honeysuckle tree. Artemis sipped her tea. It was more sugary than she would have liked, but it stopped her hands from shaking.

"You still don't speak to your mum, do you?" Molly asked her eventually.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't have anything to say," said Artemis. "I mean, we barely spoke when she was there. Physically, anyway. She was never really there in any meaningful way, not after everything that happened with my dad. I don't really remember her before that, and so I don't know her. Not as a person or as a mum."

Molly nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Artemis, can I show you something?"

"Sure."

Artemis shrugged, and Molly picked up the leatherbound book. She placed it on her lap and opened it, flicking through the pages as she spoke.

"This is our family photo album. One of them, anyway. We had more before the house... Well, anyway," Molly paused. She was smiling, but the look in her eyes was not entirely happy. "This page here is Fred and George's christening. Summer 1978, so I think this would've been the year before your father died, back when your mum was still working for the Ministry. Arthur knew her, invited her to come along. There she is, look."

Molly pointed to a photo in which a familiar-looking woman not much older than Artemis herself was standing next to a much younger looking Mrs Weasley. The breeze was blowing her dark hair and she was laughing at a joke that Artemis couldn't hear. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the mother Artemis remembered growing up. She shook her head sadly.

"That's great, Molly, but-"

"Wait a second. Just wait and you might just see - look, there!"

Molly's finger pointed to the background of the photo, where a little dark-haired girl was running circles around a fully-bloomed honeysuckle tree. She was small, but not scrawny; her hair was untidy, but someone had taken the time to plait it; and though her clothes were dirty, it seemed as if they had only recently become so. Artemis tilted her head to one side.

"Hang on. Molly, is that me?"

Mrs Weasley nodded and laughed. She wrapped her arm aroound Artemis' shoulders and squeezed gently, and the two of them watched the little girl Artemis had once been as she ran around the honeysuckle tree that still stood in the garden in front of them.

"There were going to be a fair few children there that day anyway, and Arthur knew you were around the same age as Charlie, so he told your mum to bring you with her," Molly explained. "I remembered you being there, because I was so scared that day. I had three boys already, and now twins too, and the twins were just starting to move around and looking like they might crawl. I was exhausted and terrified about how I was going to cope, and then... you came along.

"You had these big wide eyes and those sweet pigtails and that pretty little dress, and you smiled like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. And then you took one look at the honeysuckle tree, and before anyone could say 'bowtruckle', your shoes were off, you'd climbed right to the very top of it, and jumped all that way back down to the lawn," she laughed. "You landed on your hands and knees, wiped the dirt off on your nice clean clothes, laughed, and did it again. At least twice more. And I remember thinking that I might have my hands full with all these boys, but five boys couldn't possibly be harder work than one of you."

Artemis laughed out loud, tears pricking her eyes as she watched herself run across Mrs Weasley's lawn and throw her arms around her mother's waist in a hug that her mum returned.

"Your mum, though," Molly continued, "she didn't bat an eyelid. She was so kind and warm and funny. She was wonderful, and she clearly adored you. I don't think she'd have changed a hair on your head, not for the whole wide world." She ran her free hand through said hair, tucking a strand of it behind Artemis' ear. "I know you don't remember her before everything changed, but this is how I remember her, and you. Not that you've changed all that much."

Artemis smiled in spite of the fact that she felt like crying.

"Thank you, Molly," she said. "I'm glad you remembered."

She leant with her head on Molly's shoulder, raising it suddenly as her younger self ran over two a pair of red-headed boys. The two boys were both bigger than her, and they shared a look of apprehension, but they still allowed themselves to be dragged over to the honeysuckle tree. Molly laughed at the expression on Artemis' face.

"Oh, yes," she said, shaking her head. "Even then you had a way of dragging my boys into your shenanigans." She leaned in closer and whispered into Artemis' ear, "That I hope will never change."

With that, Molly stood up and left, taking her photo album with her. Artemis finished her tea, looking at the honeysuckle tree that would soon start to bloom. Once she had finished it, she returned inside to find Molly preparing lunch. Artemis paused by her, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Happy Mother's Day, Molly."