By Nienna Celebrindal
DO NOT READ BEYOND THIS POINT IF YOU HAVE NOT READ DEATHLY HALLOWS, POSSIBLE SPOILERS! You have been warned.
Author's Note: Yes, I know, big text up there, but I wanted to warn people who might not have the book yet. Heh. I suppose most people have it and have read it by now, but it's better to be safe than not. Okay, so, this is the first part in a short fic I wrote, it's not just one chapter (don't be fooled!). Anyway, thanks for reading!
Timeline: Five years after Deathly Hallows
Pairings: I'm going canon here: H/G, R/Hr, etc.
Prologue
Hail pounded the windows. Ron Weasley stared outside, watching. Several inches of snow had already collected on the pane. Crookshanks sat by his knees, eating a bit of stray yarn. Someone had left a mug of hot coco on the coffee table in front of him; Ron had a suspicion he knew who it was, though he hadn't seen anyone put it there. She was probably the one who'd stoked the fire, too. He could feel it's warmth on his skin, but it didn't go far enough – it didn't reach deep into his heart, where the true cold lurked.
"Ron?"
That was her now.
He knew he should answer, but he couldn't. This had to be a terrible nightmare, any moment he would wake. Everything would be okay then, everything would be good.
"Ron?"
Why wasn't he waking? Maybe he'd been given some sort of draught….
"Ron!"
Hands on his shoulders now. Ron shivered.
"Please talk to me." She said, rubbing his arms. "Please, Ron."
A moment of silence, then, "I'm going to get a healer from St. Mungo's, you're clearly not okay." She paused. "I'll get Harry, too. Maybe he can talk some sense – Ron?"
He turned away from the window, to stare at the mugs of chocolate. They were shoved onto the table's only clean corner, between two books on dark magic, one Quidditch broom guide, and an old Hogwarts essay. There were splotches of dried ink over everything, remnants of food – old candy wrappers, chocolate frog cards, sandwich crusts – and his deck of self-shuffling playing cards, currently shuffling.
Ron reached his hand out, letting it hover above the books. "Hermione?" He whispered.
"Ron." She replied, anticipatorily.
But, he did not continue.
Hermione made a discontented noise and stood. He could feel her weight leave the couch cushions. "I don't understand what's wrong." She said.
Then, someone knocked at the door.
Ron jolted, as though in pain, and watched Hermione open it. The door creaked; numbly, he remembered meaning to fix it.
"Ms. Granger." Said a deep voice.
"Kingsley." Hermione said.
They were staring at him. Kingsley still smelled like that place: damp, mossy, bloody….Ron put his head in his hands. No! He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to go back there and know that it was all real, that he wasn't going to wake up and –
"You're supposed to be at St. Mungo's." Kingsley said.
"Why?" Hermione interjected. "He won't tell me what happened. What's going on?"
Through his fingers, Ron could see Montague Knightley laughing at him, pointing with an old rook out of his chocolate frog card. Hermione came over. Her hip hit the table, causing the pile of books to shift; Montague slid to the floor with a shriek that barley rose above the fire's crackle. Crookshanks lifted his head, his ears swiveling.
"He was injured." Kingsley said.
"Doing what?" Hermione glared at Kingsley, her face flushing.
Kingsley sighed. Ron could hear him sitting down. Cautiously, he looked: a large, dark figure loomed out of the tatty blue chair across from the couch.
"Hermione, has he…said anything?" Kingsley asked.
"No. Nothing. And if someone doesn't tell me what's going on –" Her voice trembled.
Kingsley held up a hand.
"You both look awful." She finished. "And…."
They stared at each other, and Hermione knew. She'd suspected before, but now she knew. Kingsley didn't have to say anything.
"No." She whimpered. "No!" Hermione covered her mouth with her hands and began to cry.
It broke something in Ron. He pulled her into his arms, crying, too. "He's gone." He whispered.
Kingsley seemed to need to keep talking, or maybe he thought knowing would help Hermione. Either way – "Mundungus tipped the Aurors' office about the Elder Wand, someone had stolen it again, from Dumbledore's tomb. We've had a regular duty assigned to it, but….We knew, that whoever wanted it, their next logical step would be to claim it by defeating the previous owner." He stopped.
"You should have protected him!" Hermione snapped. She pulled Crookshanks into her lap and hugged him tightly. The cat groaned, disgruntled. "Why was I never told? I don't –"
"Because we just found out about it." Kingsley said. "By the time we knew, Ron and Harry had already been dispatched to a disturbance. Renegade Death Eaters. They crop up from time to time. We went to them as soon as Mundungus –"
"They were too late." Ron said.
Kingsley and Hermione stared at him. He knew then, it was his turn to speak – he had to tell them what happened.
Ron turned away, to stare at the mantle over the fire place. There were pictures there, the occupants waving, grinning….on the far right, just behind a photo of him and Hermione at Hermione's Hogwarts graduation, was a picture of Ron and Harry, in front of the Burrow.
He stared at it for a long time. Never again, would he see that smile. It was gone forever. It had survived Voldemort, but it couldn't – how could Harry be gone? After everything, how could he have…and like that?
New tears came, running the paths the others had taken. Ron gathered Hermione closer. This time, for his own comfort. "There was nothing there, when we apparated in. We knew it was a trap." He paused.
So fast. Gone so fast –
Choking back a sob, Ron continued, "Harry still wanted…just incase someone was hurt or….he had a gut….I tried to tell him we should leave –
Soot coated everything, from the old paintings to the beaten furniture. There had been a house once, but now only the charred remains of a foundation were left. Harry ran his hand along the fence in the front yard, staring at the ruins.
"Does look like a place a Death Eater might like, doesn't it?" Ron said, coming to stand beside his friend.
"Yes. It does. It looks like something else, too, though."
Ron knew he was talking about his parents' house. Awkwardly, he changed the subject. "There's no one here, Harry."
"We haven't looked that good." Harry started forward. His feet crunched against the snow, creating deep footprints.
"It could be a trap." Ron's sweaty hand gripped his wand tighter.
"We have to be sure." Harry said.
They walked in silence, down the cobblestone path. With each step, something squeezed Ron's heart a bit tighter – it was wrong, this place…
"Harry, I really think we shoul –"
All he did was blink…
A yell, a flash of green light…
"HARRY!" Ron dropped to his knees, shaking his friend. "NO!"
Cold, his hands, his face, everything was so cold. The phoenix-feather wand he treasured drooped, then fell, clinking lightly as it hit stone. Ron looked widely around, but no one was there – whoever had done this, they were gone.
Seconds later, a hundred little pops bombarded him; Ron bent over Harry, covering his body – though he didn't know why, it wasn't like he was protecting anyone, just a corpse, a remnant…
"Ron." He knew that voice.
"Dad?" Ron's grip on Harry's coat got tighter. He was crying; when had that started?
His father put his arm on Ron's shoulder, squeezing.
"What happened?" Another voice asked. Kingsley.
"Harry…" Ron ignored the Aurors as they shouted. He turned back to his friend. "Harry. This can't…this can't be happening. HARRY!"
"He should see a healer." Kingsley said.
Ron saw his father nod.
"I'm not leaving!" Ron said.
But they pulled him away, anyway. Someone put a blanket over Harry's body …it was over.
– All I did was blink." Ron whispered, as he finished the retelling.
Hermione sniffed, burying her face in Crookshanks' fur. "Do we know who?" She said.
"No." Kingsley said. "But we won't let up until we do."
Ron looked back at the mantle, at the photo…Harry grinned, waving, the scar on his forehead hidden by his mop of messy black hair.
More hail hit the windows; it was louder now, more forceful.
No one spoke, accept for Montague, who was currently shooing a moth away from his frog card ("Go away then, nothing for you here.") Ron watched him wave his rook –
"Which one's that?" Ron asked, coming over.
"Montague Knightley." Harry said, shoving the chocolate frog into his mouth. "Sure you don't want it?"
"Nah. I had five of him before. Besides, I gave all those away." He paused. "'Cept for, you know, maybe a couple."
Montague yelled something foul and Harry glared. "Bit of a prick." Tossing the card aside, he turned back to his books, which were all over the coffee table.
"What're you doing?" Ron asked, pulling Crookshanks out of Hermione's work bag, where he'd been eating a quill.
"Trying to figure out some things." Harry said. "Look, you know we've been getting tips about a Death Eater…stronghold, I guess? I was thinking about where it could be. And what we could do to get at them."
"You're worse than Hermione with work." He said. "Never thought that would happen."
"I'm just…frustrated." Harry said, shutting one book and opening another.
He ran his hands over his face, sighing.
Ron sat down on the couch. "Did Kingsley get anything new, from that guy they arrested?"
"No." Harry said.
"Figures." Ron replied, grabbing another chocolate frog. "Hey!" He said, pulling apart the wrapper. "I got you." He dropped the card in Harry's lap.
"Not a very good picture, is it?" Harry asked, scrunching up his nose.
– Hermione's sob brought Ron back.
Kingsley had gone to the door. "I'll let you know what we find."
He left. Hermione leaned forward, gulping. "We should go, too. We should help find out what happened…."
She stared forlornly at the closed door.
Ron nodded and said softly, "Yeah." He didn't move.
They sat for a long time. The fire died; everything got dark, until the morning sun came through the windows, fractured by the fallen snow.
Yawning, Crookshanks detangled himself from Hermione's grip and sauntered into the kitchen. They could hear him tearing apart something. The noise made Ron twitch; slowly, he pulled away from Hermione and stood.
"I should…work." He said.
Without changing, or waiting for a response from her, he went to the door and left.
TBC
Author's Note, part 2: So, how'd you like it? Please review and let me know! Thanks so much!