Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
A/N: It's alive! Completely rewritten this chapter. Back on track now! Thank god.
"I say there are spots that don't come off... Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Spoken by Mad-Eye Moody.
Chapter 8:
"Mummy." Ron's voice called out tearfully.
The house was in shambles. Fred and George had somehow gotten ahold of Bill's wand and accidentally made the bookshelf in the living room explode. Laundry had piled up from having Charlie, Percy, Fred and George back from school for the Christmas break and Bill back from his internship for Curse breaking in Spain. Dinner was only half prepared. Muriel would be there in fifteen minutes and Arthur's distant relatives would be flooing over in less than an hour. She was an absolute frazzled wreck.
"Mum." Ron's voice called out again.
Molly stopped yelling out instructions to her older boys for a second to glance down at Ron. He had tears in his eyes and his lips were trembling, but he wasn't sobbing so it couldn't be that bad.
"I'm busy dear, what is it?" Molly asked as she tried to remember the incantation for creating herbs from the plants set out on the table she got in the garden out back.
"I fell and…" Ron began, but Molly cut him off.
"Ron please, you're a big boy now, you shouldn't be crying over scraped knees still.
She felt a bit guilty as she saw Ron wiping tears from his eyes and nodding, but really, he was ten already and shouldn't be acting that way. As she turned around she saw a large, new rip in Ron's jeans out of the corner of her eye. Tutting irritably to herself Molly sighed. Another set of pants that she would be repairing.
"Ron, go change your pants. The guests will be here any minute." Molly ordered.
She cleaned up the living room, inwardly peeved at her boys for exploiting the loophole of underage magic by using an older wizards wand, and decided that Fred and George would not be getting desert. Laundry was shoved into the Lenin closet just before Muriel walked into the house. Running her hands through her hair Molly tried not to let the stress get to her. Everything would be fine.
And everything did turn out fine. Arthur entertained the desks while Bill and Percy helped her finish cooking. Muriel seemed to be in a rather good mood which meant the night as a whole went well. The children didn't put up a fuss about going to bed and the adults all enjoyed a nice glass of wine before saying their goodbyes. Since her children behaved so well the night before, after the exploding shelf that is, Molly decided to get up early and cook the children pancakes with chocolate chips in them. Charlie's personal favorite. He would be taking his N.E.W.T.S this upcoming semester. Her boys were growing up so fast.
She peeped into each of her children's room and told them to get up for breakfast before heading downstairs. Percy came down first, already dressed and hair combed, causing Molly to smile. Bill stepped through next, bleary eyed with an oversized night shirt slipping down one shoulder, to sit next to Percy. Fred came in next leaning heavily against George who smiled brightly at her. Fred was not a morning person in the least. She would never admit it, but she was rather fond of sneaking into his room in the morning and patting his cheek. The way he jerked awake and looked around like the hounds of hell were on his tail was one of the funniest things she'd ever seen. Molly imagined that McGonagall had done a fine job making sure her boys stayed out of trouble these past two years. Charlie walked in next with a still half asleep Ginny riding on his back.
They all sat down and started eating. Ron would still be a few minutes, they all knew, the boy took a while to wake up fully. When Charlie and Percy finished eating and Ron still hadn't come down though, Molly huffed. Bill noticing his mother's eyes on Ron's chair, laughed at her irritation.
"Want me to go get the sleeping goblin?" Bill asked, a grin pulling at his lips.
"If you don't mind dear, I swear he's worse than Fred." Molly announced in exasperation.
"I resent that." Fred called from across the table.
"She's got a point Forge." George told him, patting his shoulder.
"You're against me too Gred?" Fred asked in disbelief.
Molly shook her head as Bill stood up and headed up the stairs showing off the near shoulder length hair. She frowned. He really needed to get a haircut. There was no need to have all of that in a person's eyes. Her oldest had the prettiest brown eyes, but no one would be able to admire them if there was a curtain of hair in front of it. Going back to the dishes at hand she nearly dropped them at the sound of Bill's frantic voice.
"Mum! Something's really wrong!"
Molly felt her heart tighten inside her chest. Taking the stairs two at a time she practically slammed into the door at the bedroom just before the attic. She could feel the twin's footsteps behind her, but didn't pay them any mind as she knelt down beside her baby boy. Bill was stroking sweat soaked hair out of Ron's face as her littlest boy breathed raggedly into the side of his pillow.
How could she not have noticed when she went to wake everyone?
Molly placed her hand on Ron's forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of him.
"Ronnie can you hear me?" Molly asked softly.
Ron's eyes squinted open to look at her through clouded blue eyes. He nodded slowly.
"Ronnie is there anything that particularly hurts right now?" She asked gently.
His lips moved, but she couldn't hear him. Leaning forward she asked him to repeat himself.
"My leg really hurts." Ron whispered breathlessly.
Deeply confused by this answer, having expected him to say something about his stomach or head, Molly made a motion towards Bill to move. Bill hurriedly obeyed. Pulling off Ron's blanket she stiffened at the sight of blood spots in the same place she briefly saw the rip in Ron's pants yesterday. With shaking hands Molly pulled up Ron's pant leg as her boy winced and shuddered.
"What in Godric…" Bill muttered in shock.
From the doorway Fred and George stared in wide eyed horror at their little brother's leg. Molly's hand quickly went to her mouth. A deep gash, as if Ron had been sliced with the sharp side of a shovel, went three inches across his leg. It had been badly wrapped with toilet paper, all of which was torn apart and falling off, and subsequently became infected. There was pus coming out of it and the sides were a nasty shade of purplish yellow.
"When did you get this Ron?" Bill demanded.
Ron's lips trembled. He tried to talk again, but the words were just whispers. Molly already knew the answer, but leaned forward anyways, automatically.
"When I… fell last night outside I dropped daddy's muggle tools. I fell on one."
"Shuu… I'm sorry baby. Mummy's sorry." Molly whispered as she leaned down to kiss Ron on the forehead. "Bill I need you to call the healer right now."
Bill was already halfway out the door before she finished speaking.
"Fred please go get a cup of water. George get a cold, wet rag." Molly ordered.
Molly stroked Ron's forehead alternating between telling Ron it would be alright and explaining to him how sorry she was about last night. Ron cringed at the touch.
"Mummy that hurts, please stop." Ron murmured.
She stopped immediately.
"I'm so, so sorry Ronnie. I didn't mean to ignore you. I should have listened." Molly whispered.
"I know, it's okay." Ron told he weaklyr, reaching out he wiped her tears away.
The sound of stomping steps coming up the stairs told Molly that the healer was there.
Molly Weasley couldn't relax. There were dark bags under her eyes despite the fact that she'd been sleeping in later and later. Arthur had been worried about her the past few weeks, but there was little that Molly could do to alleviate that because she didn't know why she couldn't relax.
She already checked on George every day. The boy wasn't doing okay and had his downs more than ups, but was doing so much better than the first few weeks after… after Fred died. So she knew that if George was the source of her unease that she would have realized it by now. She worried about George all the time, but she was there for him, and she could do no more than that. Her son was keeping busy at the shop and had numerous friends checking in on him all the time. Hermione and Harry made it their business to have George over several times a week as well. He received letters from Percy and Ron at least once a week. Percy even dropped by when he wasn't being sent out of country.
Bill too was perfectly fine with his wife Fleur at Shell cottage. She just talked to him that afternoon through the floo. Gringotts bank had finished its last repair, but were keeping fewer and fewer wizards employed at their establishments because of the recent war. Bills job was secured though because curse breakers were hard to find. Every Sunday the couple came back to the Burrow for dinner with her and Arthur.
Molly had written McGonagall asking after her daughter and discovered that Ginny was doing very well. Molly had been worried that the severe loss of so many of her close friends would have left her depressed, but McGonagall assured her that while the children struggled they were pulling together. Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley were hardly ever seen apart from one another nowadays. McGonagall had hired a healer who specialized in the mind and set up a room in the medical wing so that all students met up with the woman at least once every two weeks. Molly felt such relief at the news. Her daughter was doing well in all of her classes and was expected to be near the top of her graduating class.
Percy was working on a new relief program for those left homeless during the war. He tended to spend at least one night a week at George's and one at their own home. He apologized to Harry concerning his behavior after the triwizard tournament and while the two weren't the best of friends Harry had forgiven him. Her boy was making her proud through his hard work to fix what he'd done wrong for so long.
Harry and Hermione came over to the house for Sunday dinner as much as possible as well. She just checked in with them this morning to see how Teddy was doing. The little thing was running the two ragged, but their laughter was music to Molly's ears. It had been a while since she last heard them sound like that. They would be having their first Auror exam the beginning of next month. She was so excited for them. She'd long sense stopped allowing the fear of her children's jobs affect her. What with a dragon caretaker, curse breaker and a certain trio giving her heart attacks every other day she knew thinking about it too much would just stress her out.
Her Charlie. Getting letters out of that boy was like pooling teeth, but he always floo called her when he entered town. She talked to him about four days ago and been delighted that he could make it to Christmas this year. Nothing seemed wrong. He talked to her just as animatedly as normal and he appeared fine. It was so difficult to tell though. He was all the way in Romania where anything could be happening without her knowledge. His work for the Order had dwindled significantly since the end of the war, not due to lack of need, but an increase in need by the Dragon Watch Association. A large bundle of dragon eggs had hatched several months ago, but the mother had been illegally butchered. Charlie was helping to keep the baby dragons alive while searching for a young female dragon capable of taking care of them.
And then there was Ron. He sent Arthur a letter every week telling him how he was. All of the letters their children sent was addressed to the both of them. She read it first and then gave them to Arthur when he got home from work. Ron's letters were addressed to the both of them as well, but there was this way that Ron wrote them. 'Dad you should have seen the looks on their faces.' 'You wouldn't believe what Antea showed me the other day! A baby Hippogriff. I even got to hold her dad.' 'Mrs. Salen showed me how to work a muggle machine that makes cappuccinos. They taste nasty, but customers seem to love it. I'll show you how to work one sometime.' 'Rose gets so excited when I show her magic. It doesn't matter what it is. It reminds me of you when you see muggle stuff dad.'
It was like Ron didn't expect her to read his letters. He never addressed her in the letters about something specific. Everything inside pertained to things that Ron seemed to be saying directly to Arthur and only him. It hurt a little. So she questioned Arthur about it, thinking that she'd done something that upset him, possibly this past summer. Arthur had given her a steadying look as they sat in bed that night. It was contemplative and searching as his blue eyes looked into her chocolate brown. When he finally spoke, though his voice was soft and careful, it felt like she'd been slapped.
"Dear… You and Ron have never really… You've never shown much interest in what he has to say or what he does. I expect Ron doesn't know how to really talk to you."
Floored Molly could do little else, but stare blankly back at her husband. Was that true? Surely not. She had noticed some time ago that she and Ron weren't as close as she was to her other children, but it couldn't be that bad. She cringed as she tried to remember the last time they'd talked and found that… she didn't know. Beside her Arthur reached over and gently stroked her hair. There was no accusation in his eyes, just a tired understanding.
Molly shook her head slowly.
"I… Of course I'm interested. I love Ronnie." Molly denied softly.
"I never said you didn't love him sweet heart. You two just never really interacted much." Arthur told her gently.
"We talk. We've chatted up a storm in the kitchen lots of times. I… we… that is to say I've… oh dear Merlin." Molly murmured.
"You were busy. Whenever Ron was around there tended to be a dozen others as well. Ron understands."
"He's talked to you about it?" Molly asked incredulously, the hurt skyrocketing. "And you didn't tell me?"
Arthur sighed heavily, absently brushing fingers through a diminishing hair line.
"Molly dear, yes I've talked to him about it, when he was younger. I noticed that we, the both of us, tended to ignore Ron when Harry and Hermione are around. Ron would sort of… he'd just wander off if we started talking to them about something." Arthur began explaining. "When I confronted him about it he said he knew that we would be awhile and was just looking to entertain him-self until we were done. I told him that we weren't excluding him and that he was more than welcome in the conversation. He got very sad Molly… then just waved me off and smiled saying he knew that and he was fine."
Molly let out an undignified snort of disbelief.
Arthur nodded in agreement.
"I still accidentally ignored him sometimes, but I got better at including him and seeking him out for conversations. Ron's never really come to me for advise or help though, that's always been Bill, Fred and George. He just wants to tell me about his day usually and wants to listen to me tell mine." Arthur finished.
"Why didn't you tell me this back then?" Molly questioned.
"I did dear, but you were rather stressed at the time. It was when we were living at Grimmauld place." Arthur said, still stroking his wife's hair.
Long after Arthur had fallen asleep Molly lay awake staring up at the ceiling. It was the first night that her ritual began. Every night after Arthur fell asleep she found herself in the kitchen sipping at a cup of tea and staring into space. Usually she only sat there for an hour, but a feeling of dread had swallowed her in the last few weeks. Something felt immensely off to her. She couldn't place a finger on it, but she trusted her intuition. She floo'd her children more often and checked on them in person if they were close. She even sought out each of the remaining Order members just to make sure they were okay.
Time moved on though, and seemed to be making her out to be a simple old woman with too much time on her hands. Each week her children sent messages about how they were doing fine. Each day she saw that George seemed a little less depressed. Arthur was getting more and more worried about her and Molly couldn't help but believe it might be well founded. None of these facts allowed her body to relax.
The night it happened Molly groaned as she woke completely. It had taken her several hours of simply lying there and hoping for sleep to come for her to finally admit it wasn't going to happen. Turning over she quietly got up and left the room. She put the kettle on to boil water immediately. Bringing down the tea bags Molly breathed in deeply. Earl Grey's sweet smell drifted up to in the darkness of the room. Idly flicking on a light Molly sat down to wait for the whistle of steam.
Dragging her fingers over her too tired eyes Molly glanced at the Family clock absently before stretching her shoulder blades. They creaked under the strain.
Then it clicked.
Molly's entire frame whipped around to stare at the clock again.
Ron's hand pointed towards mortal peril.
She must have screamed because a moment later Arthur burst into the kitchen wand raised. Seeing her face, but no obvious instigator Arthur's eyes immediately followed hers to the clock. His arm dropped as his eyes landed on Ron's hand with wide eyes.
"We need to get to Australia." Molly cried out frantically as she jumped from her seat. The table was jostled causing the teacup on top to tip over.
"It doesn't open until seven Molly… that's five hours from now." Arthur told her as he moved towards the living room.
Molly followed him.
"There has to be an emergency port key station!" Molly snapped.
"All being used by the Order and Aurors at the moment for Death Eater containment and aide." Arthur answered, voice strained by tightly held back panic.
Arthur threw floo powder into the flames and shoved his head in.
"Minister of Magics Office Kingsley Shackbolt." Arthur yelled. "Kingsley! I'm sorry for calling so late, but it's an emergency."
Molly hovered behind him, both hands bunching up her nightgown with a white knuckled hold. There was the distant sound of a low moan and someone stumbling forward. A head popped up into the flames of the Weasley's living room fireplace that was most definitely not the Minister of Magic. It was a pale young man who appeared to be wearing Auror robes and the dark bags of someone who hasn't slept for three days.
"Weasley… Right, Order members, Mr. Shacklebolt will see you as soon as he gets out of the latest meeting. One of our missions went south last night… Is it still night?" The young man asked with a yawn. His head turned from side to side as if searching for a clock.
"You might just be able to help us actually." Arthur said quickly, not wanting to allow time for the young man to leave. "We need a means of getting to Australia immediately. An Order member of our family is in mortal peril. Please… is there any transportation available… perhaps one of the emergency port keys going that way has returned?"
The man's face filled with sympathy.
"I'm sorry sir. Nothing has come in yet and as you know it takes a while to prep a port key for use. I'll see if the meeting is wrapping up yet and if it's not then I'll at the very least inform Mr. Shacklebolt anyways so that he knows to come straight here."
"Thank you." Arthur whispered.
The man disappeared. Arthur pulled back and grasped the hand that shot out to hold his. Molly kneeled on the ground beside him and stared blankly into the fire.
"He's only supposed to be studying." Molly whispered. "It's not like with Harry and Hermione. He's not known in Australia Arthur! He's not supposed to be in danger!"
"Ronnie's never been very good at staying out of trouble Molly dear." Arthur said shakily, a dry laugh leaving his lips and echoing hollowly into the room. "That's not something that Harry inspired in him."
Molly nodded mutely in agreement.
Kingsley did not floo call them. Instead he came striding out of their fireplace and nearly walked into the kneeling couple. Nodding to them the tall, broad shouldered man automatically followed them into the kitchen. It was not the Minister of Magic in their home, but a long time friend from the Order. Kingsley was one of the very few left who survived both wars like Arthur and Molly. The three of them had seen many friends and family fall in their time; each time expecting it to be their turn.
Kingsley had been in their kitchen many a times discussing everything from what flavor he liked best in his tea to how to proceed with a full scale battle plan. It was a place the man felt comfortable in yet at the same time was weary of. Molly watched as Kingsley's eyes swiftly glanced at the clock, as all who entered the kitchen did, before his eyes widened.
"So it's Ron." Kingsley stated with apprehension.
Arthur nodded even while knowing such a movement was unnecessary.
"Can you do anything to help us get to him?" Molly questioned
"I've got a team of Auror's tracking down a man in Japan. They've got three emergency port keys, one of which is to Australia." Kingsley explained. "We've got a division of Aurors there, as you know due to your son, who will be able to back up the team if necessary."
"How long would it take them to find Ron?" Arthur asked shakily.
"They're a tracking team Arthur, and Ron isn't a criminal in hiding, so I imagine it shouldn't take more than an hour. Now where does Ron live?" Kingsley questioned. The man purposefully left out the fact that Ron had spent the previous year on the run from Death Eaters and was more than capable of escaping detection. Ron wasn't hiding from them so they had nothing to fear.
Molly scrambled to get one of the letters Ron had sent them several months ago when he first moved into his apartment. Arthur grimaced as he noticed his wife's shaking hands as she handed him the paper. Reading over it and finding what he wanted the Minister waved his wand whispering a spell.
A Lynx burst into existence, shimmering inside the kitchen before obediently sitting in front of Kingsley as the man relayed his message. Once finished the creature of light seeped through the window and into the early morning sky like a shooting star.
"Now comes the unfortunate task of waiting." Murmured Kingsley.
The couple nodded their heads as one in agreement.
Hestia Jones pushed her long black hair behind her ear as she approached the apartment door of Ronald Weasley. It surprised her that a member of the Order and a war hero would be staying in such a rundown dismal place. She had heard that the Weasley's, with most of their children in well off jobs now, were rather financially secure. They were a family that was known for their kindness and loyalty to each other, as was evident from the quick response of one of their own being in danger tonight. Surely they wouldn't have allowed one of their children to live in such a place? Checking the address again she confirmed it was correct.
Taking a deep breath she tapped the door three times while whispering a very familiar spell. The door became see through. If Ron was in Mortal Peril there may have been someon threatening them inside. Knocking would only alert the person. Carefully peering inside she felt slightly disgusted and concerned. No sign of Ronald Weasley anywhere. The paint was peeling and there it was incredibly tiny. And there were… Hestia's breath hitched. Potion bottles everywhere.
Whispering the unlocking charm Hestia was torn between annoyed and impressed that it didn't work. Neither did the next try or the next. Cursing the Auror stood up and closed her eyes in concentration.
"Zerito!"
Nothing.
Her most powerful unlocking spell had no effect on the apartment door. Well this was Ronald Weasley after all. One of the three seventeen year old's who'd been hunted down by death eaters while they destroyed pieces of Voldemort's soul. Of course he would know powerful guarding spells. Not to mention the rumors going around the Auror department that the trio were rather… paranoid after the war. Not surprising.
Sad… but not surprising.
It didn't matter much. She knew the place that he lived and therefore could use the boy's presence from the door way to track him. No one had ever discovered where the trio stayed in all the time that they were on the run and therefore never were able to track them. From what she'd heard from Kingsley they stayed in a magical tent, never lingering in one place for more than a week. Poor kids. It must have been horrible in the winter for them.
Hestia swirled her wand around in a wide counterclockwise ark and watched as an energy from in front of the door was drawn into her want. Turning to her left Hestia watched as the tip turned a deepish purple. Not that way. To the right then. It turned bright red.
"I'm coming kid." Hestia whispered as she took off down the hallway.
She had a high respect for the boy who Dedalas ordered her to track down and protect. Hestia had only seen glimpses of the boy over the years as she went in and out of the Order headquarters, but the things she'd heard her fellow members say were enough to impress her. She'd been skeptical of the idea of allowing children to reside there, but Sirius Black had a point. Those kids were constantly in danger because of who Harry was and because of their relations to so many members of the Order.
What would it have been like, she wondered, to have grown up surrounded by danger? Black had told her how Ron stood up to him on a broken leg in front of Harry at thirteen years old. Hagrid told her how the boy had arachnophobia, but had followed spiders into a nest of acromantulas in order to help prove Hagrid innocent at twelve. The year before that Ron set up a caretaker for Hagrid's baby dragon so that he wouldn't get in trouble with the school. Hagrid had kindly decided that he would not be introducing his class to acromantulas for Ron's sake. Tonk's had gone on and on about Ron's dueling abilities while Remus spoke proudly of how Ron protected his pregnant wife.
Hestia followed the trail down the many winding streets and thanked Merlin that it wasn't during the day where people would have been crowding the streets and blocking her path. Not to mention that this was one of the rare mixed towns. The front was that Madura was a small roadhouse community meant for people (muggles) to simply pass on through. The truth though was that it was a place where wizarding families who had muggle relations could live together without having to have separate lives like in England. Muggle technology and wizarding magic was used in conjunction with one another for the comfort of both factions. It was a fascinating place that had interested her for a while. She wasn't sure how she'd cope among all the muggles, but she'd heard from others that it was quite a stress relief not to have to worry about non-magical folk seeing because they were all family of magical folk living there.
If a person didn't have magical relations a strong desire would hit them to move on to the next town. No one performed magic on the main street where muggle travelers passed through, otherwise it was safe. It was the whole reason why the Auror Strategy training had been situated in this particular area because it introduced those wizards who were unused to muggle machinery to the muggle world. You really couldn't function well as an Auror out in the real world if half the places you go to bewildered you.
Hestia stopped in front of the hospital checking her wand. Ron was inside. Whatever danger Ron was in he'd gotten into while working. Rushing to the front desk she pulled out her Auror badge and flashed it to the Healer behind it.
"I need to know where Ron Weasley is right now." Hestia said urgently.
The Healer blinked before nodding and muttering a spell onto the paper in front of her, repeating the name given before looking up.
"He just got out of surgery forty-five minutes ago mam. I don't think he's up for visitors yet, but since you're an Auror I'll inform the doctor that you're here." The Healer said kindly, there was an edge to her voice though, a familiarity with Ron if Hestia had to guess. The woman's words caught up to her.
Hestia froze.
"Surgery? What happened?" she demanded, torn between relief to know that the boy would be okay and fright at knowing he'd been seriously injured. She did not want to be the one to tell Molly Weasley one of her children was in a hospital bed.
"Patient Weasley has been scheduled for surgery since two weeks ago for yesterday evening mam. There were no complications and he's in recovery." The Healer explained patiently. "It says on his form that he wished to keep this private, but we are obligated to inform any Auror of any information they seek no matter the wishes of our patients." The woman added, voice laced with a touch of bitterness.
Hestia stared at the woman in shock.
"What was the surgery for?" She asked in a much softer tone.
Ron had been in Mortal Peril yet the woman said that the surgery went without a hitch. It had been planned for weeks. Molly's clock was never wrong. Hestia suddenly felt like she'd jumped into a kiddie pool only to hit the water and find out the bottom didn't exist. A planned surgery was so dangerous that Ron's clock hand had gone to Mortal Peril. A dangerous surgery that Ron had known about, but hadn't informed anyone of.
"Mr. Weasley was suffering from the aftereffects of one of his treatment potions. A toxic tumor had formed that needed to be ritualistically removed." The Healer read off of the paper in front of her.
Hestia swallowed. Oh Godric. She'd not been expecting this at all.
"He's sick?" Hestia found herself asking, the shock echoing off the walls of the empty hospital reception area.
The woman nodded curtly.
Ron was working in a hospital… that's what she'd been informed of by Shacklebolt, information that had been supplied by Molly Weasley herself. If Ron was a patient… it meant that working there was just a cover story. Her insides squeezed unpleasantly even while she was silently impressed by the boy. No one would be the wiser.
"Can I go and see him?" Hestia asked, now weary.
"You're an Auror mam." The woman said tartly. Wow… someone was rather bitter. "Perhaps England doesn't give such privacy breaking jurisdictions?"
Hestia straightened up and looked the woman straight in the eyes.
"Ronald Weasley is a member of the highest ranking Auror group in England, the Order of the Phoenix. As a fellow member of this elite group of law enforcement I am part of Mr. Weasley's honorary medical visitation rights. I am here to assist in the safety and welfare of one of the few members to survive the recent war in England." Hestia snapped.
If the woman wanted to be difficult then she could play that card as well.
"That's not possible." The healer sniffed. "Mr. Weasley performed training at the Auror center across town before becoming too ill. The boy is freshly out of Hogwarts."
"He is freshly out of a war zone." Hestia snapped. "A war that the boy was thrust into at fifteen when he participated in his first battle. He did not receive official training, but was mercilessly hunted down by Death Eaters for a year and survived. Have you heard nothing of the war that split England this past year? Ron didn't get to attend his last year of Hogwarts."
The woman before her was shaken up, her head moving from side to side in denial.
"I've personally helped with Ron's treatment. He's never mentioned anything about the war. There's no way he was in the middle of it." The healer denied.
Australia was about as far away from England as one could get, but for this healer who was supposed to be taking care of Ron to not even know her patient was a war veteran disturbed her. It was well known in the Order that all three of the trio were suffering from post war trauma. Even the public knew as much. Everyone knew they had been in the midst of the war from the very beginning to the very end. Here in Australia though, Ron was anonymous.
Feeling around in her bag for the most recent copy of the Daily Prophet, not that recent since she hadn't been in England in over a week, she found it wrinkled up beside her blanket. Leafing through the pages for a few minutes Hestia found the perfect article: 'Has Ron Weasley abandoned the Golden Trio?'
Well perhaps not perfect. She scuffed at the title. Ron Weasley appeared to have simply disappeared overnight. None of his family or the Order were willing to tell the General public where he had gone. Speculation was that a left over Death Eater had killed him or that the trio got tired of him. It talked about the last time he was seen and the many enemies Ron had made during the war. It would get her point across at least.
"I'll give you this in exchange for the room number Ron Weasley is in and I want his medical file as well." Hestia bargained. "Articles on page 5."
The healer hesitated for a moment, weary of her, but unwilling to outright disobey an Auror. She took the paper, before summoning the file to her.
"He only got out of surgery a bit ago. He'll be asleep and even if you are an Auror you are NOT allowed to wake him. Room 316. Third floor and to your left." The woman told her sternly.
Obviously Ron had already made an impression on the staff. She wasn't the least bit surprised. She nodded and walked away briskly. Making her way up to the room Hestia hesitated only a moment. Walking into the room she felt her breath taken forcefully from her body.
Ron was emaciated.
It suddenly struck her how long it had been since she'd seen the gangly teen standing in the wreckage of Hogwarts. He was incredibly pale, a strong contrast to the tanned skin earned from living in a tent over the course of a year. The blanket covered his body, but his arms were laid bare, scars and all. His left arm was covered in bandages just ending where the long ugly scar caused by Hermione Granger splinching him lay. Both arms lacked the strong muscles she remembered seeing. And his face was gaunt. Deep yellowish black bags were under his eyes weaving a tale of exactly how much sleep he got. Even his eyelids looked darkened.
There were long strands of magic weaving around the boy almost like a cocoon, monitoring his heart, breathing and brain waves. As she watched Hestia noticed that every time the boy's breath hitched the blue magical strands turned an ominous shade of red before evening out to purple then blue.
Hestia shivered.
This was clearly not just an ordinary infection. This surgery was not a small and easy thing like the healer had suggested either. She needed to know all the facts before calling the Weasleys, but if she didn't send some kind of message soon they would both be going to the closest international portkey. Looking at the time Hestia realized that while it felt like a lifetime ago she had only been in the hospital for fifteen minutes. It was still very, very early in the morning.
She sent a patronus out to inform the Weasley's that their son was not in danger as well as a private message to Kingsley to come as soon as possible. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a busy man, but he had made it clear that anything to do with the trio would be handled by him personally. The trio knew and trusted Kingsley and he would not betray that trust by letting strangers handle emergency situations like this one.
It was a sad, but unfortunate case. Most of the Order had been replaced by the younger generation. Almost all of the Order members close to the trio were dead: Moody, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Snape, and Dumbledore. The majority was now made up of the Weasley family. Bless their souls, they all almost made it out, except for that poor boy Fred. The poor family had so many other close calls; Arthur nearly dying by Voldemort's snake, Bill's face being sliced up by Fenrir Greyback, Ron being poisoned and both arms badly scarred from the war.
Hestia sat listening to Ron's ragged breaths, watching the ball of magic floating in front of his mouth, monitoring the boy's breathing. What was she supposed to tell Kingsley when he got there? That they hadn't known about this would shatter the man. Godric… What was she supposed to tell Molly? The woman had lost both of her brothers in the last war and a child in this one. How could she tell her that even though the fighting was over one of her children was still battling on?
Hestia resigned herself to spending the next several hours reading medical jargon and hoping she understood at least half of it.
The first thing Ron did as he woke up from the surgery was shriek in surprise and the slightest bit of terror. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat tiredly beside his bed. Instantly regretting the action Ron held a hand to his still healing stomach as he stared at the tall, broad shouldered Minister of Magic. Wildly looking around Ron was mildly relieved to realize that while there was an Auror he vaguely recognized none of his family was there.
"Ron." Kingsley powerful, weary voice stated.
Dread filled every fiber of his being. They knew. Kingsley at least knew everything. He could see it in the man's eyes and features. Ron tried to sit up, his pride and respect for the man before him demanded it, but he quickly collapsed back onto the pillow. Kingsley immediately raised his hand in a placating gesture.
"Please my friend, do not get up." The man's voice boomed.
'Like I have a choice.' Ron thought grouchily. Why now? Why when he was at his weakest point did Kingsley have to come waltzing into his life again.
"How?" Ron croaked, unsurprised that his voice could barely be heard.
Kingsley hurriedly poured a glass of water before helping him into a position where he could at least drink it without choking. He still coughed harshly anyways, his throat parched, and tongue dry. Water splashed across his hospital clothes. When he was finally settled again Kingsley explained.
"Your hand drifted to Mortal Peril."
Ron cursed under his breath. How could he have forgotten the clock? He'd been so used to all of their hands constantly being on Mortal Peril that the thought hadn't even occurred to him to do something about it. He'd focused on covering up the fact that he was in a hospital constantly and hadn't considered that his state might degrade to the point that he was near death and therefore in 'Mortal Peril.'
"You haven't told my family yet?" Ron rasped.
Kingsley sighed tiredly. They both knew that he hadn't. Ron was asking him why not.
"You are a reasonable and trustworthy member of the Order Ron. If you decided not to tell your family about this then that makes me assume that you have a good reason for your actions. Not only that… You are eighteen years old and live on your own. It would be a show of great disrespect for me to go behind your back and tattle on you." Kingsley said gravely. Ron could tell from his tone of voice that he had considered it. His respect for the man went up a great deal. Kingsley wasn't going to use his position as Minister and head of the Order to try to bully Ron.
"Saying that though," Kingsley said, a silent 'but' coming along that made Ron cringe. "I would like to know your reasoning for not telling anyone, not just your family, but anyone about this."
Ron closed his eyes for several long minutes, fighting against the blackness encircling him. Without opening his eyes Ron spoke.
"Selfish reasons I guess. At first I just didn't want them to have to deal with this on…" Ron's voice left his. The rasping in his throat becoming much worse before disappearing altogether with his voice. Ron grimaced and grit his teeth. Leaning over the bed shakily Ron gripped the cup of water again in shaking hands. The water tipped and sloshed over the sides. Kingsley got up again, and being the ever patient man he was, held the cup to Ron's lips slowly and carefully. Ron gave him a pained, grateful smile.
He felt as if he had a hole in his lip with how much water escaped to dribble down his chin and neck. His ears turned bright red from embarrassment and humiliation. Still, a strong hand stayed at his back while the other kept the cup steady. The water felt heavenly to his deeply hurting throat. He nodded gratefully when the glass was empty. Kingsley helped him lean back carefully into the bed. The black spots in his eyesight stayed even after the water. His head was pounding and for a long moment he hoped that they would just go away if he waited long enough.
They didn't though. Both Kingsley and the familiar Auror stayed waiting for him to recover. Ron blinked his eyes several times, trying to get his eyesight to focus again, Kingsley stayed slightly fuzzy though. Even slightly blurry the man still appeared severe and expectant.
"At first…" Ron tried again, satisfied when he could hear his voice, despite the rasp. "At first I didn't want them to have… to have to deal with me. Fred's gone. Everyone's hurting. I just… I didn't want them to be forced to take care of me. The wars over… they can go on with their lives you know? And then here I am making… making everything difficult for everyone again. You know? I didn't want that. It would be horrible. They needed time to recover."
The frown lines on Kingsley's face deepened.
Ron let out a croaky laugh that hurt.
"You know it's true." Ron said roughly. "You think… you think Harry and Hermione would be helping you as much… if I were there?"
"They would have been where they needed to be. I would have respected that." Kingsley told him firmly.
Ron grinned up at the man, but he knew his eyes were watery.
"That's what I mean. I needed them, but they needed me not to need them. You've read it haven't you? There's not much of a chance I'll make it. It would hurt them so much worse… to have to see me slowly die…" Ron felt a hot tear slide down his cheek. "…than to receive news one day that I'm dead."
Ron saw the blurry dark skinned fists tighten around fabric.
"You know too, don't you? It would break them." Ron rasped softly.
"Do not resign yourself to death so easily Ronald. You have a forty percent chance of beating this. It would break them more to know that you've accepted death so easily when you even had a single percent chance of making it." Kingsley's deep voice echoed loudly in the quiet room.
"I haven't. I still have dreams and plans and wants. One of my wants though is that if the worst happens that Harry and Hermione don't have to see it. Maybe they would be better off saying goodbye, but…" Ron's voice became thick. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a long moment. "…but I don't want them to see me like this. It's scary to look in the mirror. It's scary to see under the bandages. It's scary vomiting and not knowing if I'm gonna stop. It's scary not being able to get up some days. It's selfish, but I want them to only remember me like how I was before."
The bleariness finally went away, throwing Kingsley's features into sharp focus. The man's charcoal colored eyes were baring into his with such compassion and concern that it was almost overwhelming. He wanted Kingsley to understand where he was coming from. He wanted the man to know that he wasn't not telling them out of disregard for what they wanted but out of a need to protect them and himself from what was happening.
"Excuse me Kingsley." The familiar Auror said loudly, her own voice sounding thick. "I need to… I need a moment."
Then she was gone. Ron peered towards the door in confusion. Kingsley gave him a tight lipped smile.
"Hestia is a very mothering type woman. It's hard for me to hear you talk like that so for her I imagine it's worse." Kingsley explained softly.
Hestia. One of the Aurors who escorted the Dursleys and she was part of Harry's guard just before fifth year too wasn't she? Turning back to Kingsley Ron felt the burning desire to ask him, but he'd been needing to know.
"Are you going to keep my secret? Will you be able to the next time you see my parents?" Ron asked, trying hard not to let the fear show.
Kingsley's hands folded in front of him. The man was giving him a searching and calculated stare. He would have squirmed if he had the energy to.
"Their waiting for me in the Burrow at this very minute." Kingsley admitted. Ron cringed. "I had to go through five different teams emergency port keys around the world in order to get to you."
Kingsley paused. Deeply contemplative.
Ron waited for the man to continue, having no other choice, but to have patience.
"I heard that you were living in an apartment. You're paying your own medical bills. You're taking care of yourself against the wishes of the doctors. You're putting yourself in debt because you can only pay a small amount." Kingsley stated.
Ron was completely thrown by the change of subject.
"My family's not rich Kingsley." Ron rasped, anger dripping from his voice. "Even if I did tell them it would just be my family in debt instead of me."
"The origin of this infection comes from your scars from the battle in the department of Mysteries correct?" Kingsley asked. "Against death eaters?"
"Wha.." Ron began, clearly not keeping up with the Minister's flow of logic. "Yes. That's why it's so bad… because the dark magic festered inside my scars for so long."
Kingsley smirked, seemingly triumphant from getting this confession directly from Ron.
"So this entire illness comes from fighting for the sake of your country. You got sick because of Death Eaters." Kingsley stated firmly.
"Yeah…" Ron agreed slowly. "I was hit with a curse that caused the brain to attack me so I guess you could say it that way."
"Therefore." Kingsley stated, far more loudly than necessary. "You fully qualify for the medical program designed for post war victims. All of your bills, debt and basic living can be covered by the government through paperwork until it can be proven that you are fully healed from the illness caused by Death Eaters. It is the government's debt to pay its civilians back for its failure to protect them."
Ron gaped at the man.
"No." Ron snapped. Weasley's, no matter how bad the situation, never went on welfare programs. They were not charity cases. They did not accept handouts. It just wasn't done. Kingsley knew this. They worked for every scrap they had. They were a proud family who knew that they didn't have much, but could take great pride for having earned it.
"Then I guess Molly and Arthur will find themselves with a portkey straight to the hospital in a few hours." Kingsley said with a shrug. "There's nothing I can do if they decide they need more than just my word to assure themselves that you're doing okay."
"Are you blackmailing me?" Ron rasped incredulously.
"Yes." Kingsley stated bluntly. "And you'll be living in the hospital as an inpatient. You're killing yourself by living on your own."
"No I'm not. I'm doing fine." Ron rasped angrily, his throat informed him that it was not okay to speak loudly.
"Your Healer says otherwise. I'll be checking up on you weekly as well." Kingsley informed him.
"You…" Ron started, unsure what he should say. "You can't do this. What was all that stuff about me being eighteen and able to make reasonable decisions?"
"I'm respecting your decisions. And as long as you respect my decisions Harry Potter and Hermione Granger won't receive a patronus from me concerning a mission they need to perform here in Australia about twenty minutes from this location." Kingsley added, almost as if it was an afterthought.
"You wouldn't dare!" Ron hissed.
"Would you like to test that theory Ronald?" The Ministry of Magic asked, raising an arched eyebrow.
Ron pulled at the irritating wrist band that told everyone he lived as an inpatient at the local hospital.
Scowling at the tight piece of metal did nothing to make it go away.
It had been several weeks since his removal from his apartment, but Ron still wasn't use to it. He was allowed 'free time' outside of the hospital as long as he could convince one of the staff members or his friends to accompany him. It was demoralizing and humiliating. He'd even been restricted to how much time he could spend outside of the hospital. Apparently it was strenuous to his health to be 'out and about' for too long. Healer Blake had been far too perky, Ron decided, as the man explained these things.
He felt like a child who'd gotten caught doing something awful and was on lockdown by his parents. He still couldn't believe Kingsley would blackmail him like that; threatening to tell his parents about his illness if he didn't enter the hospital. After everything he'd done for the man this was how he was repaid. If he survived and became an Auror he was going to make sure he irritated Kingsley as much as possible. Ron pulled at the band again.
Not that he wasn't grateful, but the whole idea of being on a welfare program left a nasty taste in the back of his throat. His parents would be ashamed of him if they knew. A Weasley taking aide from the government because he couldn't care for himself. Ron rolled his shoulders carefully. It helped with the pain that his potion didn't take care of and the slower he moved the better it felt. One of the healers had given him a series of exercises meant to work the muscles that would send out chemicals in his body easing the pain. It exhausted him, but the end result was worth it. Ron rubbed the skin under the band.
"Stop it. You're going to cause a rash or something." Traux mumbled through his bite of sweet and sour chicken.
Ron maturely stuck his tongue out at him.
"My mother use to tell me she'd grab my tongue right out of my mouth if I didn't keep it inside my head." Traux said with a laugh.
"My mum once jinxed my tongue to stay out until it was like sandpaper, never stuck my tongue out at her again." Ron admitted with a fond smile.
"She sounds like quite a woman." Traux said with a full bellied laugh.
"She's had seven children and each one of them has a healthy fear of her. She's definitely something." Ron drawled.
They were sitting in the Dusk café. He'd been forced to quit, but came often to see Rose and her mother as well as talk with Antea and Traux. As an inpatient to the hospital he was required to have someone with him while outside of the hospital. This meant that he either needed to get one of the healers or nurses to come with him or a friend to escort him. A constant babysitter. Eighteen years old and he needed someone to be constantly with him to watch him. At least with Antea or Traux he was treated like he wasn't going to break at a single poke.
"What about your dad." Traux asked with a wry smile.
"Calmest man you'll ever meet. No idea what attracted them to each other." Ron admitted. "Somehow they make the perfect couple though. Suppose if they were both scary and intimidating we'd all have run for the hills."
"My dad's really strict." Traux confessed. He turned to Ron and scowled. "'You'll never be able to get into the Auror program if you don't perfect this spell boy!' It was always boy when he was instructing me, but he never said it in front of my mom. My mom heard him once and referred to him as 'that man' for three weeks."
Ron cackled as he took a tentative slurp of his soup. His stomach turned unpleasantly and his throat seemed to close up the moment the liquid touched his tongue. He gagged slightly, barely keeping down the single spoonful. Sighing in disgruntlement Ron put the spoon back into the bowl.
"No go." Traux said sympathetically.
"Just a 'go' to the bathroom if I take another sip. Even the smell is making me nauseous." Ron groaned.
"They're going to put you on the tube again." Traux stated knowingly.
Ron moaned into his arms.
"At least try drinking the tea." Traux added.
Ron nodded gloomily.
"How's training going?" Ron asked, desperately wanting a change in topic.
"We've got an Exam in a week or so. It's supposed to determine whether we're capable of making it to the next level of training."
Ron grimaced remembering that only a few people were ever good enough to make it to the end.
"You take it at the end of October?" Ron asked, knowing that Harry and Hermione must be freaking out by now.
"We're not kicked out of the program if we don't pass with flying colors, but we are sent back to the beginning. We've got two chances. It's just that it's looked down upon if you don't pass it the first time." Traux said grumpily.
"The world won't end if you don't make it the first time mate. You'll get there." Ron stated, his voice suddenly dropped a few pitches, giving a good imitation of the Auror lecturer. "Outwitting your opponent depends on being able to come up with as many possible answers and then having the ability to know which one is best! There are a thousand possibilities in this life and giving up because one failed makes you not only lazy, but an idiot."
Traux grinned.
"Thanks mate. I needed that. You sound scarily like him you know. Can you teach me that? It would be funny as all hell to pull that trick out of my sleeve when interrogating criminals." Traux mused.
"What trick?" A voice pipped up.
Ron turned to see Rose sitting in the chair beside him. She scooted the chair over so that the wood clicked against his own chair. Traux gave the little girl an amused glance before winking at Ron.
"Hi Rose. I was just asking Ron if he uses his talent at imitating voices when he reads you stories at night." Traux told her with an easy smile.
Ron rolled his eyes. Traux had a habit of teasing Ron about how much Rose loved spending time with him. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world that Rose seemed to have a crush on him. Ron insisted that she just looked up to him as a big brother.
Beside him Rose nodded eagerly. She started telling Traux about the many characters Ron acted out. She too tried imitating the voices, but got frustrated and pouted when she couldn't. She turned to Ron with big, puppy dog eyes and he suddenly had a sinking feeling. Traux snickered.
"Can you imitate the snake in the story you read me a few days ago?" Rose asked. "It was so cool!"
"Yes Ronnie." Traux pleaded childishly. "I want to hear it too."
Ron sent him a withering glare, before smiling at Rose.
"What do you want me to say?" Ron asked, purposefully not looking at Traux.
Rose developed a thinking pose, her lips jutting out comically as she considered this.
"Telling me about your day, but use you snakey voice." Rose declared after a minute.
Traux snickered again.
His snakey voice was Parseltongue in English. It took a lot of concentration. Giving Traux a sharp kick under the table Ron took a breath a started.
He ended up spending most of the afternoon imitating different voices. Egged on by Traux and applauded by Rose. His ears turned red in embarrassment when customers started clapping alongside the little girl. Rose beamed at him proudly.
It was worth it.
Ron wiggled and squirmed on the ground before letting out an ear piercing scream. They were tightening around him. Long tendrils crushing him against a grayish thing that smelt like ash. Ron leaned his head away from it, but couldn't escape. He felt his back creak under the pressure as it tightened further around his waist and shoulders. Then it came.
It was a sickening sensation like he was being touched all over before he felt himself thrust forward. He screamed again as his body felt like it was lit with fire. Blood was seeping beneath him, making everything slick and sticky, the tendril like arms burning and cutting at the same time into his skin. He couldn't see any of the others at all anymore. Instead a dark figure stood above him; a man who was literally draped in shadows. Ron tried kicking out at him, but his efforts were simply laughed at.
Dark, claw like fingernails traced his arms where the tendrils lay almost lazily now. The dark figures face fell into the light just enough for Ron to see sharp teeth smiling down at him. Suddenly the places the figure traced began to glow ominously with a dark light, almost like a negative photograph his father showed him once. Ron slammed his head forward, colliding their foreheads together, but the thing simply dissipated and reappeared on his other side. Screaming in agony Ron gasped and cried out as the figure traced his claw along every tendril wrapped around his body.
"Ahhhhh… Stop it! Stop it." Ron screamed.
Where were the others? Neville, Ginny, Luna, Harry, Hermione…
It just smiled as it finished tracing the last of the tendrils of the brain creature crushing his body. Ron grit his teeth as the figure leaned forward, its shadows touching his skin, causing the fiery like pain coursing through him to spike. The scream that tore through him echoed eerily through the empty room.
"I've waited so long…" The figure hissed into his ear.
Blinding pain ripped through his body.
Ron screamed as he sat up to see nothing but darkness around him. Blindly searching for his wand Ron felt his hand tighten around a stick on the bed beside him.
"Lumus!" Ron roared.
The room filled with light so bright that Ron was forced to close his eyes immediately. Ron cursed, repeating the spell more softly, before looking around.
His hospital room.
Ron slumped against the headboard, bringing his legs up to his chest and burying his face into his knees.
'Just a dream. It was just a dream. Nothing to freak about. Just a dream.' Ron told himself quietly.
It was unnerving quiet, but Ron was thankful for that. It meant that Rose wasn't in the bed next to him. No child to traumatize with his nightmares. Pulling the blanket around him Ron absently looked around for his hoodie. He must of passed out after the last treatment. That was the only way he didn't sleep with it on.
Spotting the large jacket draped over a chair on the other side of the room Ron gingerly got out of bed. The blanket slipped slightly, revealing silver scars around one arm from the ministry's brain creature, before Ron hurriedly brought it back up. Even when he was by himself Ron disliked showing his badly scarred arms.
Rubbing at his eyes absently Ron grabbed the hoodie and pulled it on over his head. Wandering out of his room Ron padded over to the night nurse, a woman named Pam who would let him sit outside by him-self if he snuck her Milano cookies. She wasn't Antea who would take him up flying, but he still liked her.
"Morning Pam."
Pam worked nights and slept during the day so while Ron had just gotten up from a nightmare in the middle of the night she had only woken up a few hours ago.
"Morning Ron dear. Need some fresh air?" She asked absently, frowning down at her muggle puzzle sheet. Ron leaned forward over the desk to see what the puzzle was. Reading it upside down and looking up.
"Its…"
"Shuuuuuu! If I still don't have it when you get back then you can tell me." She muttered.
"Actually I just want some tea." Ron told her. "You want me to get you some too?"
"Apple Cider dear."
Walking down to the cafeteria Ron rolled his shoulders out of habit. The pain potion was working fine. His body felt half frozen with cold, but over the months he'd learned to deal with it. People outside of the hospital still gave him weird looks when he walked outside with his heavy jacket, but the looks turned to bewilderment when his breath puffed out like he was in Antarctica.
"Mopsy?" Ron called out.
A tall house elf with longer than normal ears appeared out of nowhere.
"Mr. Weasley sir! Is you very cold tonight sir? Let me make you a cup of nice warm tea." Mopsy demanded earnestly.
"Thank you. Healer Pam would like some apple cider too please." Ron added as he cuddled into one of the armchairs in the cafeteria.
"Of course sir, right away!"
The house elf disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing soon after with a large mug of warm tea.
"Would Mr. Weasley like something to eat? Something light for you? Some company?" Mopsy implored.
Mopsy knew about all the inpatients needs. The house elf prided her-self in 'making people feel better.' Several months ago on one of his overnight stays he'd asked her to sit with him and tell him about her day because he was very lonely. She apparently had dealt with patients who had no one to visit them before because her features saddened. Since then whenever Ron wandered into the kitchens at night she would sit with him and talk.
He had made sure to tell Hermione all about the old house elf. She was different than the ones that stayed inside the kitchen all day who shirked away from him. Then again he had never met a house elf as old as her either. Not even Kreature, who was bloody ancient, could match the deep wrinkles ingrained on the tiny creature.
"I'd love some company thanks." Ron told her.
"So I get you something light to eat yes?" Mopsy nodded, outright ignoring his avoidance of that question. "Then I sit with you."
Ron resignedly nodded.
They talked for a good half an hour, Mopsy coxing him to eat a broth soup after Ron admitted that eating toast hurt his throat. In return Ron retold her, her favorite story: Dobby saving them from Malfoy Manor. He really missed that house elf.
Walking back towards his wing with a hot cup of cider Ron placed it down beside Pam. Sitting down in the swirly seat beside her Ron looked down at the paper.
Anger or wrath. Three letters.
"Ire." Ron muttered.
"Damn it."