If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask. (1)
Ron spent hours after dinner that night in the library, thumbing listlessly through Hogwarts, A History and dozens of other books that had little to do with Rowena Ravenclaw or Dark Magic. He had a nagging feeling that he knew the answer already, that he had read about it somewhere before. If only he could ask Hermione–she was so good at riddles. But that was the problem; he shouldn't have to ask.
If you have to ask, you'll never know.
But he had to know! He had to find out, he had to find the Horcrux! And soon.
When Madam Pince began dimming the lights, he left the library and headed back to the dungeons.
If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask. If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask. If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask.
He was so deep in thought that he tripped over something upon turning the next corridor. Someone–the something–screamed and Ron scrambled to his feet, wand out, then lowered it at once when he saw none other than Ginny kneeling on the ground in front of him.
"What are you doing on the ground?"
She glared at him and made no move to rise. Then he realized she was clutching her leg, which looked a bit crooked, in a way that made his stomach churn, and he had a sudden vision of a giant black dog leaping towards him, teeth bared….
"Well?"
"What?"
"Get up and get out of here!"
She pushed herself into a standing position, only to cry out and begin to fall, but Ron reached out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.
"Get off me!" she cried, and he let go at once. You can't act like a good guy, you dimwit! But she started to fall again, her knee buckling under her weight. Instinctively he caught her again and lowered her to the floor gently. "What is wrong with you?" she gasped, clutching her leg. He took a step back.
"I–I–" he stuttered, but didn't know what to say. Great. Real great, Ron. You're going to blow everything!
But Ginny's hurt… And it wasn't any mystery who had hurt her. What if you had been with Zabini, or Crabbe, or whoever? Would you have helped? Would you have risked your position for Ginny?
To his horror, she tried to get up again, but she barely managed to kneel, and her face went white. "Ferula!" he said decidedly, and a splint and cast appeared on her leg. Again, she looked up at him in confusion.
"Just–just don't tell anyone."
"What? That you're half decent?" she said harshly.
"Yeah," he said, looking down the corridor, hoping that Neville or someone would show up. "Look, Ginny–"
"Weasley."
"Right–Weasley," he corrected hastily. "You can't get back to the Tower alone, and you really need the Hospital Wing–"
"What's it to you?" she said nastily.
"You think I'm just going to leave you here?" he said loudly, getting annoyed. Why couldn't she just accept his help so they could get out of there? They weren't far from the Entrance Hall, which wasn't far from the dungeons. Someone could come by at any moment.
He took another step back.
"Look," he said quietly, urgently, "look, I know this is messed up, but I'm not like the others–obviously–but I really need you to keep this quiet, okay?"
"Right," she said coldly, "so you can stay all comfortable in Slytherin while the Gryffindors keep getting beat up. Classy. Should have expected that."
"No! It's not like that!" he said desperately.
"Yeah? Then what is it like?"
"It's–"
But Ron broke off. There were footsteps in the next corridor.
He held a finger to his lips and raised his wand, covering them both in Disillusionment Charms and joining her against the wall, where they sat, as quiet and still as possible.
Please be Neville, please be Neville, please be Neville….
Crabbe and Goyle appeared at the end of the corridor, no doubt returning from the kitchens for an evening snack; Ron caught the smell of treacle tart as they walked slowly toward them. Ron made sure he had a good hold on his wand–just in case.
"Did you hear people down this way?"
"Yeah. Sounded like Brown."
"Sounded like Weasley."
They walked the length of the corridor. Ron didn't even dare look right at them as they passed by, but just watched their shoes.
"They're gone."
"Should we tell Blaise?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
They left.
"We are lucky," Ron breathed, "that they're so bloody stupid."
He undid the charms and held out his hand. She didn't look happy about it, but she accepted it and he pulled her up.
"Come on."
"You should re-do the charms."
He did and they set off toward Gryffindor Tower, Ginny leaning heavily on Ron.
"You're afraid of them," she stated. He ignored her. "Aren't you brave enough to stand up to them?" Again, he didn't say anything. He'd already said too much, had already done too much.
Or have you done too little?
"How do you know the way to Gryffindor?"
Too much. You've done too much.
Her questions tapered off then, and he noticed her start to breathe louder, heavier. He took more of her weight. Finally they were standing in front of the Fat Lady, and Ron removed the charms again.
"Well? Aren't you going to say the password?" he said.
"And give all of Slytherin access? I don't think so," she said, but her voice didn't hold any malice anymore.
"I'll let them know you're here, dear," the Fat Lady said kindly, and in a few moments, the Portrait Hole opened and Neville and Seamus appeared.
Ron all but shoved Ginny into their arms, then sprinted back down to the dungeons.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. They better keep quiet, he thought. With Crabbe and Goyle already suspicious–
Suddenly, his wand was knocked out of his hand and he found himself thrust up against the wall.
"You helped Weasley," Zabini hissed, his hand tight around Ron's throat.
"No!" Ron gasped, his fingers grasping at Zabini's, but Zabini pushed his wand into Ron's chest. "No, I–"
"Don't lie!" Zabini yelled, jabbing his wand in further, so it hurt.
"She couldn't walk!" Ron choked, at the same time trying to free one of his backup wands. Accio wand! he thought desperately. It shot out of his sleeve into his left hand and he gripped it clumsily: "Impedimenta!"
Zabini was thrown back against the opposite wall, but he righted himself quickly, quicker than Ron caught his breath.
"CRUCIO!"
Ron dropped to the ground in unbearable pain, all thoughts of defending himself suddenly gone as he screamed and twisted, trying in vain to get out of the spell's trajectory.
Ron could not move at first when Zabini lifted the curse. But he heard him run off the opposite way. He tried to take deep breaths as the pain slowly receded. But he was still shaking madly, and when he tried to stand he felt extremely dizzy, so he forced himself into a sitting position against the wall instead.
He might have been there an hour before the pain and tremors had dulled down completely. But as his mind became clear, new tremors wracked his body.
He wasn't sure if they were tears of fear or pain or guilt. At least he had gotten Ginny back. But what now? Had he completely blown his mission? Did he dare return to the dormitory tonight? Would Zabini tell the others? What if they cursed him in his sleep?
He thought of Harry and Hermione and hoped they were okay. Hoped they were doing better than he was. He wasn't sure he could keep up the Robert Brown façade anymore.
He gasped as he stood up, his stomach searing with pain in the spot where Zabini had cursed him. He lifted his shirt and saw no evidence of the curse, but just touching the spot gingerly made him almost cry out. Slowly and painfully he made his way back to the dungeons.
It was late; the common room was empty. His heart beating out of fear, he crossed the room, stumbling slightly without a wall to use for support, and walked down the hall to the seventh year dorms. He could hear voices from inside.
Ron stood up straight, though it pained him, and put his wand back in his robes. It wouldn't do for Zabini to think Ron was about to curse him. He sucked in a breath and pushed open the door.
Everyone was up. Zabini had an intense look on his face–as if he was challenging Ron to call him out. But Ron just walked the few steps to Malfoy's bed, deposited his bag next to the bedside table, and undressed with his back to Zabini, half expecting to get hit with another Crucio right then and there.
He climbed into bed.
"Good night."
The others mumbled responses. Ron thought he heard Zabini give a short, triumphant laugh.
No meetings, no Horcrux hunting, and no running into Kenny in the common room tonight. He couldn't risk any of those things, not after today. He shut his eyes tight and burrowed himself under the covers, imagining his four poster in Gryffindor Tower.
He woke abruptly to screaming.
Angry whispers, whimpering, the slash of a curse through air and cries of pain. Ron sat up in bed and tried to figure out what was going on.
"Please stop, please stop!" a young, terrified voice sounded from the common room.
Kenny, Ron thought, horrified.
"What a baby," Crabbe laughed from the next bed. Nott agreed from across the room. Zabini and Goyle weren't there. Ron sat frozen, torn, but before he could decide what to do, they heard hurried footsteps in the hall, and then unmistakably Margaret's voice.
"STOP! STOP, HE HASN'T DONE ANYTH–ARGHH!"
There was a thump and Margaret's cries cut off. Kenny screamed and Ron's breath caught in his throat.
"Stupid girl," Nott muttered.
Ron buried himself under the covers again. He put his back to Crabbe so he wouldn't see the tears running down his face.
He fell asleep to Kenny's screams.
Ron didn't get a chance to speak to Kenny or Margaret or any of them the next morning. Or rather, he didn't give them the chance to speak to him.
He woke up early from a fitful sleep and left the dormitory before anyone else had stirred. He paused in the common room, which looked pristine and Slytherin as always, as if kids didn't get bloody tortured there each night. Out of habit he peeked under the couch where he and Kenny exchanged essays. He drew out two new ones–History of Magic and Astronomy, and slid them into his bag before anyone could catch him in the common room. Kenny must have put them there last night before Zabini had found him. That meant Zabini hadn't found the essays, that he didn't know that Ron was helping Kenny.
There were no Slytherins at the table yet when he entered the Great Hall. He sat down in the middle, facing the rest of the hall; he didn't like feeling watched, especially not today.
He tried to eat quickly, dreading the arrival of more Slytherins. He wasn't sure who he feared to see more: Zabini or Margaret. He wasn't ready to act for Zabini, not after last night. He felt shaken and nauseous, Kenny's screams still echoing in his ears.
Slytherin protects its snakes, Zabini had said, that first night after the Sorting. We don't want the other houses to know we're a house divided. Willis is the example. If they let on to other houses, they know what they'll get.
Once again, Kenny had been the example–to Ron. Torturing Kenny had been a warning to Ron.
Once he had forced a whole plate of eggs down his throat he had to take a break with his head bowed, supported by his hands, elbows on the table, trying to resist throwing up in front of the whole hall.
Think of something else, he told himself, get your act together... Think of Harry and Hermione.
But thinking of Harry and Hermione just made it worse. They would be disgusted with him.
Why can't I do anything right? All I ever wanted to do was make Mum proud and instead I'm the freak brother... no, that's Percy. Am I worse than Percy?
He wasn't sure if he was worse than Percy.
THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE!
He picked his head up and scanned the hall, looking for a distraction. His sister sat sandwiched between Neville and Seamus at the Gryffindor table, seemingly recovered from the day before. As she raised her head to reach across the table for the orange juice, her eyes caught Ron's and they both froze.
Neville and Seamus looked up at him, too, for once without contempt, but Ron quickly switched his gaze to the Head Table. Snape was not eating, but in conversation with Alecto Carrow, who sat on his right. Amycus was on his left. Professor McGonagall sat far down the table, next to Hagrid. They both looked miserable. He looked back to Snape. The man looked slightly annoyed, while Alecto was clearly very interested in their conversation. He looked even... tired. Stressed.
That's what you get, you murdering scum, thought Ron nastily. Thought it'd be easy once you'd killed Dumbledore?
He'd been staring at Snape too long, so he drew his eyes away and tried to eat something else. He tried to think of something else.
It just didn't work.
He left the Great Hall and headed for Defense. He was thirty minutes early. He sat on the floor and tried to resist the urge to get up and punch the wall, or even better, run down to the Quidditch Pitch, steal a school broom, and fly away to who knows where.
It wasn't a very constructive thought, but at least it was something else.
He was antsy all through double Defense and Care of Magical Creatures. Neville and Seamus treated him with the normal hostility in Defense, but Seamus tried to catch his eye all through Care of Magical Creatures, and then actually tried to talk to Ron after class.
"Hey–Brown–hey!" he called; Ron had quickly packed up and left the instant Hagrid had declared class over. "Hey!"
He caught up and Ron had no choice but to stop, halfway back to the castle and with Colin approaching.
"What?"
"What's your deal? Why'd you help Ginny yest–"
"Shut up," Ron hissed, trying to glare, but it was hard when he'd shared a dorm with Seamus for six years. When they were on the same side. "Doesn't matter."
He tried to continue walking, but Seamus darted in front of him.
"Yes, it does," he said firmly. "Why do you follow Zabini around if you–"
"Shh," Ron said. He pulled out his wand and shoved it in Seamus' face before he could do anything. "Stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you."
He lowered his wand and pushed bodily past Seamus and back up to the castle.
Lunch was just as bad. He knew Zabini was watching him carefully. It wasn't easy to slip back into the pompous, evil Slytherin character, but it wasn't difficult, either, which sickened him. He ate little and did not let his head turn to look down to where the good Slytherins sat. In Charms Professor Flitwick called on him twice, and each time he stumbled over his answer. Flitwick looked slightly concerned, no doubt having thought Ron would become some sort of model student after being so interested in Ravenclaw's diadem.
If you you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask...
He was wide awake as he lay in bed that night, listening to Crabbe snore beside him and watching the hands on the clock on their shared bedside table tick agonizingly slowly around its face. At dinner he'd finally sneaked a look at Margaret's end of the table on the pretext of glancing at the Head Table, and neither Kenny nor Margaret had been there. She had come back to the common room that evening in tears, and Erina had led her quickly back to their dorm while Zabini sniggered. Kenny must be in the hospital wing.
Ron thought of the essays stashed in his school bag. Kenny would fall even further behind now. It was amazing he hadn't completely failed out of Hogwarts yet. But Ron couldn't keep helping him, not now. If Margaret invited him to another meeting, he would have to decline. He just couldn't risk it. Find the Horcrux and get out, he thought to himself firmly, find the Horcrux and get out.
But poor Kenny...
He slid out of bed, picked up his schoolbag, and brought it into the bathroom. He locked himself in a stall and set to work. This is the last time, he thought, slightly angry with himself, the last time I help him. Then I'm done. Find the Horcrux and get out.
The walk to the Hospital Wing was uneventful, but Ron felt better under the Disillusionment Charm he had cast on himself just in case. Madam Pomfrey emerged from her quarters as he walked inside, but he stood still against the wall as she investigated the door, and it was not long before she determined that she must have imagined someone entering and went back to bed.
There were three beds occupied, all at the end of the ward, and all enclosed with curtains. The first two were younger students he didn't recognize. He peeked inside the third–Kenny's.
It was strange, but he almost felt relief when he saw Kenny. Madam Pomfrey had healed all his superficial injuries. His face, though still pale and unhealthy looking, was free of bruises and cuts. Ron wondered how quick they would return once Kenny was released. He looked so vulnerable lying there, and Ron was reminded sharply of Harry lying prone in a hospital bed, just eleven years old, for days after the Philosopher's Stone business.
He took out the essays and folded the scrolls so they were flat, then he gently pushed them under Kenny's pillow.
Almost immediately, light appeared from the crack under the door to Madam Pomfrey's office, and then the crack became a triangle and Ron was too late realizing that she had put charms not only on the door to the wing, but on the beds as well.
Madam Pomfrey strode purposefully toward Kenny's bed, her wand aloft. Ron darted right past her into the main part of the wing, and she turned quickly as he knew she would; Disillusionment Charms weren't Invisibility Cloaks, after all. He moved to the right and her spell shot by him, exploding a potions bottle on a shelf across the room.
"Show yourself!" she demanded, sending a locking charm at the doors. He froze, hoping she had taken her eyes off him, but he heard her intake of breath and the slight rustle of robes as she flourished her wand. He spun around and ducked, at the same time yelling, "Stupefy!"
She fell back and hit the ground hard, and he nearly dropped his wand, horrified with himself.
He stood there for a moment, staring at her, still as a corpse on the floor, before coming to his senses. His heart beating madly, he approached her, determined that she was breathing, and lifted her as gently as he could. He put her on one of the empty beds and hoped she hadn't hit her head too hard. What has gotten into me? he thought painfully.
Alohomora didn't work on the doors, and he started to panic. What if he couldn't leave and she woke up? He didn't want to duel her more! All she would have to do would be to hit him with Finite Incantatem and she would see who he was. He pushed desperately against the doors, knowing it was useless. The only other spells he could think of to use would in essence blow up the door. But he couldn't sit here and wait for Madam Pomfrey to wake up!
Well, here goes, he thought wildly, and backed up a few paces.
"Expulso!"
The door was completely blasted apart, pieces flying everywhere. Ron ran straight into the dust, and didn't slow as he tore down corridors and up staircases, adrenaline stemming from the previous night and the entire day fueling him to the seventh floor.
I should have known this would happen, I should have realized how messed up this school is, he thought heatedly. Harry's depending on me and I stood by while a first year got bloody tortured in the common room. Ginny would have been fine without me. Margaret and them were getting along fine before I came. I Stunned Madam Pomfrey! Why'd he have to insert himself into every single controversial and dangerous thing going on?
I'm done, he thought, I'm done with this, all this. I'm going to find the bloody Horcrux and then get the bloody hell out of Hogwarts.
Hadn't that been the plan all along? I'm such an idiot. I could have broken into the Slytherin common room if I was a Gryffindor, I didn't have to be Sorted there, and who hides a piece of their soul in one of the most frequented places in Hogwarts, anyway?
O for Outstanding in Reasoning and Deduction, he thought derisively. And you thought you could be an Auror.
He tore down the last corridor and came face to face with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching those trolls how to dance. He turned to the wall opposite and walked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, letting his emotions and fears wash over him. He didn't ask for anything specific, but he knew vaguely what he needed: an escape. When he stopped in front of the door, he was panting and his whole body was shaking.
He entered quickly, at once feeling relief to escape the castle, to escape the threat of Zabini, always looming, but then jumped back against the wall, alarmed, when he saw what was in front of him.
A dueling dummy, much like the ones they had used for the DA. With a Death Eater's mask.
He took a deep breath and slid down the wall. Why had the room given him this? He'd expected a place to relax, and place to forget about the mess he had gotten himself into. A bit of firewhiskey, perhaps.
What have I done? I desert Harry, it's my fault Kenny was tortured, the best lead I have on the Horcrux is a blasted riddle, and now a creepy Death Eater dummy is staring at me.
He stood up and turned, thinking to leave, but the door had disappeared.
And I'm trapped in the Room of Requirement with it.
He reluctantly turned back to the dummy.
It bowed.
"What the bloody hell?"
The dummy bowed again, lower this time, as if saying, "well, get on with it then!"
Ron pulled out his wand and, feeling foolish (but that was better than regretful and guilty and terrified, wasn't it?), bowed back.
Here we go, thought Ron.
And then he was dueling.
(1) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, Warner Brothers Entertainment, Inc.
A/N: Thanks to my awesome beta, who saved this chapter from being a complete mess. Ron freaking out all over the place was difficult to write! If you think the chapter's still a mess, let me know. :) And I LOVE the speculations you are coming up with for the rest of the story. At this point I have not decided on the ending (though I've test-written about a million variations, LOL) and it's intriguing when your guesses hint at what's to come (or don't line up at all!). Thanks for the support and happy reading.