When learning to do a spell you are taught the basics of the motions; a simple swish and flick. The movement takes place mostly in the wrist but it must be accompanied by a firm right angle in the arm and tense shoulders. The magic seems to bubble up from within. It burns white hot and as it travels through your body before exploding out if the tip of your wand to do your bidding. One spell is recovered from and leaves the caster as good as new. If however spell after spell is repeated hour upon hour arms become jelly, wrists crack and pop in unnatural ways and your blood heats as spells pass through it causing a sickly fever to rise in the magician. Ron felt this casting exhaustion tenfold by this point. He had been performing difficult magic so long know that time itself began to weaken him. In the last few months he had starved, slept without warmth or comfort and almost lost the love of his life. These thoughts pushed him past the pain. Other thoughts pressed him to work harder than those around him; his brother's lifeless body, Teddy Lupin's new status as orphan and the need to protect what he had left….Hermione…Harry…His Mom…His Dad…His brothers…his sister. He was lost in visions of these faces when a red flash of light neared his face. He ducked just in time and wound on the caster leaving a stunned victim in his wake.
Without realizing exactly how it happened he was in the great hall. To his left stood Harry; Dust and blood covered his face. His scar stood prominent on his pale forehead almost as if it was the light those around them followed. To his right stood Hermoine; her light hair was singed making it resemble a chimney sweep's broom. Her clothes were caked with mud and other mysterious substances from their trek into the chamber of secrets. To anyone else she would have looked foul but to Ron she glowed. Directly in front stood his family, grieving. No one knew how long the reprise from the fighting would last but Ron needed his family's strength if it was to continue. With potency he did not know he still contained he ran to his mother's weeping arms breathing in the smells of fresh bread and mouth balls. He was so absorbed into the hugs and greeting of his family that he didn't notice Harry slip away.
Over the next hour few words were spoken. Brief mentions of fear and loss filled the group's only discussions. Their thoughts were to loud to speak over. Ron felt plenty sitting on that wooden bench. It was a pattern for him loss, pain, exhaust and guilt. His guilt stemmed from his brief hiatus in the search for an end to this whole mess. If he had stayed and fought harder he could have…but he didn't. Each death was his fault. Many events could have caused tears this night but it was this thought that squeezed moisture from his eyes. It had yet to fall completely off his face before Hermione was wiping it away.
"Ron" She breathed into his arm as she grasped at it. They were silent for a moment taking in the recent events.
" This is my fault…if id stayed…we wouldn't…god damnit!" He yelled jumping to feet. He began to pace, thinking of what he could to make up for a fraction of the damage he had caused. Hermione watched in horror as Ron stomped around the room cursing under his breath and on the verge of tears. Ron didn't know how much he needed her arms until he was wrapped in them. She grabbed his face and began to search his eyes for any sign that he was paying attention.
"Listen to me!" her voice wasn't harsh but firm.
"You are not the reason this is happening. You are a good man and you have fought to rid the world of this pure…hate. Stop this NOW!"
Their eyes locked for an all too brief of moment before Ginny rose her face pale.
"Where is Harry?" she gushed. The air rushed out of the room as Ron looked for his best friend.
"He wouldn't!" Screamed Hermione.
"He would" came Percy's level voice.
Just as Ron began to mentally prepare for a battle against he who must not be named to save Harry a loud booming voice chilled the room. The specifics were lost on Ron but he understood the voices claim that Harry was dead. The large hall was loudly silent for a breath before screams shook the walls. Ron looked over at his sister. She seemed to be in another world. Her face had gone from pale to olive green and her legs buckled. Ron caught her just in time.
"He's fine" Ron stated loud enough for the room to hear. A hush collected. Every eye was on him.
"Harry Potter can't die. He is the chosen one…our only hope. He who must…Voldormort will not win." A loud cheer rose as his speech came to a conclusion and the room filed out of the hall to meet the death eaters face on.
"He would never choose to leave you Ginny" he whispered into his baby sister's ear. Without quite knowing how he managed he made it to the front of the crowd supporting two weeping women. At the edge of the woods stood a line of death eaters and Hagrid. In their gentle giants arms was the lifeless body of his friend, his brother and his last hope. He did not know it was possible to feel this much pain and still be alive. He stepped forward. He would keep fighting and Harry would not die in vain.
AN- What do you think. Should I write more?