Chapter 1: Betrayal
The battle was over, but the war had just begun. Harry along with the Order managed to throttle the death eaters and send them back to Azkaban. Voldemort was defeated and everything seemed like it was going back to normal, yet there was still remorse among those that survived the battle. At dawn after the battle the streets were in complete disarray, but rejoicing could be heard from behind boarded windows. Children's eyes peeped behind their mothers as they stepped out into the sunlight for the first time in weeks.
"To the Boy who lived," screamed wizards and witches and their little ones; starting yet more feverish uproars. Before night fall bonfires were ablaze. Everyone gathered to celebrate freedom yet again. Every conversation circled around The Potter Boy and the Order. They had given hope to everyone yet again.
Behind every happy situation though there was a dark hovering cloud; and this cloud lay low and hovering over a particularly large ward in St. Mungos. While everyone was out celebrating; one family lay quietly in a dimly lighted ward completely oblivious to the exultation around them.
To one Boy, there was never going to be a reason to celebrate again. It seemed that with this victory there was only mourning for him. He sat quietly in the corner of the ward enveloped in shadow; staring ahead at the eight occupied beds before him. His eyes were unfocused and glazed as he relived the events past.
The Final Battle: Flashback
Weeks of disarray, weeks of death; the Order had new members that included Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the other Weasleys. They were all preparing for the last installment of battle against Voldemort and his followers. After losing Lupin and Tonks in the first weeks of battle the atmosphere at headquarters was desolate. Mourning for their loss couldn't continue forever though so when the Dark Mark appeared over the Ministry of Magic, everyone rushed into their duties with full determination. This was it. This was the final showdown.
Mister and Missus Weasley cradled their children in their arms."We can do this," they moaned. All the children stood a little straighter at these words. They would do whatever it took to not let their parents down.
Harry gripped Ron and Hermione's hands tightly and grinned. They both grinned back. There was no turning back now. This was it.
"Come on, let's do this," yelled Harry to everyone around him. They all gathered together and apparated to the ministry.
What happened next seemed like a blur to those that experienced it. Ron followed his family into the entrance of the ministry. They were inside a large dimly lit room. It was quiet, too quiet.
"Keep your wands at the ready," urged Mr. Weasley to his children, Harry and Hermione. They all nodded and proceeded to follow him. The other Order members ran ahead. It seemed the path was clear. As soon as they went through the door on the opposite end on the hall, spells flew toward the Weasley's, Harry and Hermione like fiery jets. Explosions clouded the air, throwing debris everywhere and making it extremely hard to see more than five feet in front of them.
Ron, beside Harry and Hermione, fought fiercely. They all ducked and dodged spells that seemed to be coming from every direction. The other Weasley fought swiftly. They had trained for this, but they had to be on their mark for anything could happen.
"Ron, watch out!" Hermione yelled behind him. He turned and before he even knew what happened he was thrown against a cabinet causing it and everything around it to fall over him, trapping him from view. His wand was no where to be seen, it must have dropped from his grasp when the spell hit him. He tried lifting the cabinet from himself but only tired himself more than he already was. He couldn't stand this; he wanted to help his family. They were all fighting for their lives and here he was trapped, unable to do anything. He tried yelling for help.
No one heard him.
He could hear different voices, one he recognized as his mother, then his father. Then came Fred and George's voices, followed by those of Ginny, Bill and Charlie. He yelled out to them, but his voice was a mere whisper. He could hardly breathe and the room was steadily growing darker.
"Harry, help us!" yelled his family's voices repeatedly. Several deep menacing voices cast one spell in unison causing the screams from his family to stop in mid-sentence and their attempt to yell for Harry ceased.
There was silence.
Footsteps exited the room where he was trapped and he could hear fighting coming from a distance. He tried to yell for his family again, but the only answer was silence. He couldn't distinguish how long it took for the battle to finally come to an end. He was barely conscience when a grumbling voice permeated the dark and dusty air.
"We've done it," yelled Moody deep voice. There was a large intake of breath then… "Dear God, what happened?"
What he was looking at, Ron could not see. Footsteps sounded outside of the room
"Help me," he moaned again, a little louder. Someone finally heard him and cast the rubbish off of him with a flick of their wand. Ron moaned and inhaled deeply. His lungs filled quickly making him choke. He could feel eyes on his back as he tried to stand.
"Don't let him see," yelled someone's voice behind him.
"He has to see. How can we prevent it Moody?" came Minerva McGonagall's voice.
"Where is Harry?" yelled another Order member.
"He disappeared in the battle. But not before he defeated Voldemort. He's gone, we're free."
"But, by God, at what cost?"
Someone's hand was on Ron's shoulder helping him from the ground. He looked up and saw that it was a female Ministry member.
"Are you okay son?" she asked soothingly.
"Yes, where's my family?" he asked.
She didn't respond but instead looked down and way from him. Ron followed her gaze and when he saw what she was looking at, he almost fainted. This couldn't be happening. His family's bodies lay strewn over the floor, blank stares covered their faces.
Everyone looked sheepishly at him as he made his way toward his fallen family. Moody tried to comfort him, but he brushed him away. This couldn't be happening to him. This had to be some sort of sick joke.
His mother and father lay together. His father's arms were wrapped around his mothers as if protecting her. Mrs.Weasley's face was cast down into her husband's chest.
Neither were moving.
Ron's eyes traveled over his siblings, they were all in the same state; pale and unmoving.
"Are they dead?" he yelled at those around him.
No one answered right away, being too afraid of causing yet more distress.
The ministry lady walked forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"They were all heavily confounded and stunned. We have people coming to retrieve them to transport them to St.Mungos."
Ron stared around into her face, but he wasn't really seeing her. He was trying to cast the image of his entire family from his mind. He squeezed his eyes closed trying to rid his mind of everything when he heard someone stirring behind him. He turned and watched as Hermione climbed from behind a hidden door. She looked completely disheveled and as if she wasn't sure how she had gotten there. Order members swarmed around her and helped her get her balance.
"What happened?" they all asked Hermione.
She looked around at them all, her eyes resting on the confounded Weasley's. Then her tear-filled eyes rested on Ron. She quickly looked away.
"We were attacked by a group of death eater when we entered. We fought for what seemed like hours. Ron…" she looked into Ron's eyes, "was hit by a disarming spell and thrown across the room. I tried to help him when yet more death eaters came into the room. Harry and I tried to fight them but they forced us away and turned their wands on Ron's family. I tried to stop them but Harry told me that it was no use. I don't know what happened next. All I remember from that point on was waking up in that room."
Ron stared at her; his heart was racing. He looked away from her and around at his family. The healers from St. Mungos were already there and were now raising his family into the air with their wands and levitating them from the room. Ron watched them as they carried them one by one. His father and then his mother; followed by Fred, George, Bill then Charlie. And at last there was Ginny who wasn't supposed to be there, but whom had taken Tonks place when she passed. He felt completely empty inside. He continued to think that this had to be a dream. This couldn't really be happening.
Hermione came toward him and rested a hand on his shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug. She wept on his shoulder. Ron didn't know why he wasn't crying. All he felt was hate and an urge to seek revenge. He didn't let this show. He just stared ahead into the rubble before him and he couldn't get past the feeling that this was all Harry's fault. He let this happen to his family.
End of Flashback: The Present
It wasn't a dream.
Ron pulled himself out of his stupor to watch as a healer entered the room carrying several utensils. She walked from bed to bed using several advanced wand techniques in an attempt to heal his family. One brief instance it seemed as if his brother Bill was coming out of his coma- like state. His arm rose into the air as if reaching out to the healer. Ron scooted to the edge of his chair and stared eagerly at Bill's extended arm. The Healer must have seen the urgency on his face for she quickly lowered Bill's arm and shook her head to let him know that it was of her own doing. Ron watched Bill's arm fall clumsily on the covers, unmoving. Ron balled over and rested his head in his hands, cursing himself for ever having expected them to get well. They had been this way for six months now.
The healer, whose name was Marian came toward him. She looked brilliantly bright compared to the dullness of the ward around her. Her face didn't match her bright attire though. She looked completely serious and sullen.
She pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him. Ron knew what was coming. He had heard the same speech over and over since his family was brought there for recovery.
"They aren't showing signs of recovery. I'm so sorry."
Ron crossed his arms over his chest and looked toward the beds behind her. He refused to see the pity on her face. Everyone looked at him that way now. It was no longer soothing to now that everyone cared about him and his well being; it was beginning to get quite irritating.
"You should really be home resting. We'll send an owl if they show signs of improvement."
"When will that be? It doesn't seem to me like that will ever happen. I'd prefer it if you told me the truth." He wasn't looking at her. His eyes stayed fixed on the motionless bodies under the sterilized white sheets.
Marian followed his gaze before gripping his hand and pulling him to stand. There wasn't much she could say that he hadn't already heard. It was better for him to get fresh air and go home to rest. She told him this. She gathered his cloak and placed it into his arms. Ron looked down at her short, yet demanding build; his expression blank and distant. She led him to the exit; stopping at the threshold of the door. He looked once more over his shoulder before pulling on his cloak and leaving the desolate ward for the hundredth time it seemed in six months.
As he stepped outside the hospital, materializing through the display glass; cold, chilling air brushed across his face sending chills down the length of his firm, pale stature. He exhaled slowly and pulled on his hood. He bent his head against the fierce February winds and stepped into the etched lines of a path he'd taken many times before. His destination was the Hogs Head.
