Chapter 4: Watch Over My Flock
Curses flew around Harry's head, explosions rocked his ears, dirt flew up in his face, as he and his Auror comrades pursued old allies of Voldemort across the British countryside. He heard a roar over the din and immediately connected it to his brother-in-law, somewhere off to his right. Then, another voice clashed from his left:
"Potter! Death Eater at 10:00!"
"I see 'im, Seamus!" Harry fired a curse.
"Avada Kedavra!"
BOOM! A blast of dirt and heat flung Harry back a good 20 feet and he skidded across the ground with tremendous force. When he came to, he heard someone calling his name, though it sounded weak.
"Harry…. Harry…."
Harry adjusted his vision, and what his eyes beheld suddenly made him frozen: Ron was lying several yards away. Or at least, the top half of him was. Blood was pouring profusely from where his legs should have been.
Dizzy and sick, Harry crawled to his best friend's side and gathered him in his arms.
"You're OK. You're OK," he lied to himself. It seemed to be the best way to convince both of them that not all was lost.
"Harry….. do me a favor? Hermione….. she's pregnant…. we were gonna…. tell everyone at the Burrow…. on Sunday."
Harry started to sob. "That's…. that's brilliant, mate!"
"Watch over my flock…. watch over my flock….." Ron was fading fast.
"No, no, no! Don't you dare die! Don't you dare die on me, you son-of-a-bitch! Think of Hermione! Of Rosie! Merlin….. HELP! Somebody HELP!"
By the time the medics answered Harry's frantic calls, it was too late. Ron Weasley was dead.
