Camp Hogwarts Challenge Collection
Camp Dumbledore
Paintball - Write about an ambush
Chapter 1 - Paintball
Ronald Weasley loved Christmas. Even at thirty-five, the holiday had a way of making him feel like a child all over again. All of the kids, his and all those belonging to the rest of the family, were back from Hogwarts and that alone made it priceless. But it wasn't just that. Every year the entire extended family piled into the Burrow and joined forces to make each and every holiday memorable. Granted, there was still some sorrow left to be found even years after the war but the joy seemed to overcome even that this time of year.
The land surrounding the Burrow was covered in snow and, at times like these where the sun shone, the mass of children escaped the confines of the house to play. Which, of course, was where they currently could be found.
Which is how Ron found himself headed out the door into the cold. It was his turn to check and make sure that everyone was playing nicely and was accounted for. So, bundled in the warmest outerwear that he owned, he set out to do just that.
At first he was simply puzzled. Such a large group of children should not be so difficult to find. So where in the world were they? He could see a group of snowmen a short ways away but they looked complete so it was unlikely he would find them there. The previously pristine snow was now covered in foot prints of various sizes. of small There were so many foot prints that making any sort of sense of it in order to utilize the prints to locate the children would be very nearly impossible.
His confusion quickly turned to relief when he heard several stifled giggles. With a heavy sigh, Ron moved around the corner of the house in the direction of the giggles. He turned the corner at the edge of his father's shed and frowned. This was where the laughter had come from but there were still no kids in sight.
One would think that, having grown up around the twins, Ron might have had an internal radar of some sort to warn him when something was off.
"Daddy!" a little girl's voice called loudly from behind him
He turned around quickly towards the voice and...got a face full of snow?
Apparently his "internal radar" was faulty when the children were involved.
Unfortunately for him, the first snowball was quickly joined by nearly a dozen more and another wave seemed to follow shortly after. It was quickly becoming obvious to him that this had been fully planned and prepared for well before his turn came about to do the checks. He grimaced as his thoughts were cut short by another round of attack by snow.
Stunned and very cold despite his warm outerwear, it was several moments before Ron could do much more than cover his head with his arms. It wasn't until he heard a familiar laugh that he was brought quickly back to his senses.
"George!" He bellowed, receiving another round of snowballs in response. Ron attempted to move forward towards the brother in question when he was pelted with another round of snow, forcing him to retreat several steps. Receiving the hits from a distance was considerably less uncomfortable than it was at point blank range.
"Get him!" His brother urged the mass of kids. "Half of you rebuild the stash and the other half keep up the attack! Don't give up now!"
With his senses back in shape, Ron quickly ducked behind the shed wishing more than anything that he'd thought to bring along his wand. It was supposed to be a simple check to make sure that all the kids were behaving themselves. Not an ambush from those very same kids, led by his own brother no less. Then again, it was George. Nothing is as simple as it should be once George got involved.
Leaning against the outer wall of the shed, Ron took a deep breath and analyzed his situation. It was eleven to one. Odds were definitely not in his favor. It was unlikely that he could fight his way out. Not with the numbers against him.
Ron hung his head in embarrassment when he realized his best and worst option. As quickly and quietly as he could manage, he ducked inside the shed and closed the door behind it. After pushing some random, but large, muggle device in front of the door he sunk down onto the nearby stool.
Straining his hearing, he could hear bits and pieces of conversation from the outside. They knew that he was in the shed. It was obvious that they were waiting until either he came out or someone else came out to find him. Considering that conversation was flowing when he'd gone to do his checks, he wasn't looking to put any money on that being his salvation.
No. He was most likely on his own. Against ten children and one pain in the arse older brother.
It was going to be a very long day.
Suddenly a thought struck him that caused a bubble of laughter to erupt. Stifling his amusement, he called out loud enough for his brother to hear through the thin walls of the shed, "George, you are one lucky bloke. What would you have done had it been Mum or 'Mione who'd come out to check on the kids?"
"Nice try, mate, I checked with 'Mione before I even started training this lot. She's the one that told me that it was your turn next!" George laughed.
Well wasn't that just great. His own wife had participated in his current predicament. Which meant his previous assessment was dually correct. No one was coming out to find him.
Had he really managed to get trapped in his dad's shed by a bunch of mini-Weasleys and Potters?
Oh, he was never going to live this one down. That's what he got, he supposed, for enjoying 'memorable' Christmas's.
Story Word count 1004