REVISED as of April 2017

Chapter 21: Instincts

"That was closer this time — much better," Hale says in what's meant to be a soothing tone, but I feel like I'm just not getting the hang of it.

My wand is sitting, rather lonely-looking, on a chair across the Camden gymnasium that Hale and I have been using for one-on-one Ingenitus training. "I definitely saw movement that time, Weasley. Don't get discouraged," Hale says. "It's a bit like learning to ride a broom. The first time feels completely wrong, but then you get the hang of it and it's something you never forget."

I laugh. "Yeah, Hermione says the same sort of thing about riding one of those muggle bi-slickal thingies — but you'll never catch me dead on one of those."

"You don't know what you're missing, mate," Hale says. "Me Mum was muggleborn and insisted I learn to ride a bike. They're great fun."

"Well, I'll stick to my broom, thank you very much."

Hale and I have been at this Ingenitus shite since yesterday, mostly getting to know one another, talking about the ways that Wandless Magic can be handy in the field, and going over theory. It's been a weird relief to meet someone who has had similar experiences to mine — and to find out that I'm not mental, just … different. Hale asked me to think of times when maybe my Ingenitus thing — my magical instincts, as Hale might call them — were really working and to talk about what that was like. At first, it was tough to think of any, but then, once I thought of one — the time I understood that I needed to let the Deluminator's ball of light sink into my chest and then Apparate to find Hermione and Harry — examples kept coming to mind to the point where I decided to stop or I'd wind up telling him my whole life story.

The biggest thing — the thing that is still really blowing my mind even though he said it about 24 hours ago — is what he had to say about my longstanding hunch that Harry, Hermione and I were destined to find each other and to do the mission against Voldemort. I've talked to both Harry and Hermione about this notion in the past, and each of them seem to think of it as a nice enough concept, but they don't really seem to get that I mean it — that it's not some soft-headed fancy. I really, really believe we're bonded in some way, the three of us, and that our coming together was not totally random. I can't explain why I feel this way except that it's something that's just sort of … I dunno … in my bones. I held back on telling Hale about this idea because, at first, I reckoned he'd think I was a nutter. But after all the stuff I've already told him — and all the times he just nodded and said, "yep, that's an Ingenitus thing," — I figured I could take the risk. So I shouldn't have been surprised when he asked me to tell him more about the connection to Harry and Hermione.

"Hmm," he said, twirling his wand distractedly as he listened. "You've got a gut-level feeling about it, Weasley, which tells me that it's for real. If you thought the idea was nonsense, it wouldn't stick with you this way, but you've been thinking about this for years."

Hale Accioed us a couple of bottles of pumpkin juice from the canteen across the hall and handed one to me. "As you go on in your studies, Weasley, you're going to find that connections like the one you're talking about with Potter and your wife aren't just possible, they're real," he said. "We'll probably never know how or why, but the linkage — Ingenitus scholars call it Fate Bonding — that's very, very real. I have no doubt you three have that kind of connection. Which isn't to say you didn't all make choices or that the stories of your lives are already written — we all have free will to do as we please, ultimately. But for one of you to break the link, to deviate from your purpose … well, it would be very tough to do. Chances are that if the link between the three of you has survived what you've already been through, then nothing will break it, ever."

That feels right — in fact, it feels like something I've always known, and that's one of the big things that Hale emphasizes when we talk about what it's like to be an Ingenitus. He talks about the feeling that something rings true, and says that it really does feel almost like the ringing of a bell — a big, deep bell, like the bells in Hogwarts Tower. It resonates with you. The guy does go on a lot about instinct, but I really am starting to get what he means.

Even so, I can't help but doubt that I'm as much of an Ingenitus as he and Brocklehurst seem to think. "I mean," I said to Hale on the way in to training today, "if you told my wife that I have a fine-tuned instinct or whatever, she might laugh at you. I'm hardly the most tuned-in guy — or intuitive or perceptive, as she would probably call it — especially when it comes to feelings or whatnot. I've been a right prat sometimes."

Hale opens the door to the gym and holds it as I pass through. "No one said being an Ingenitus makes you a genius or gives you special powers of Occlumency or The Sight or anything like that. In fact, I knew one Ingenitus years ago, before the war — he was was dumb as a box of rocks, especially when it came to dealing with other people. He could be a bona fide arse. But damn, that guy could sense when trouble was coming long before others could. He had what muggles would call a sixth sense about that sort of thing."

Today, Hale is trying to teach me how to Accio my wand, probably the most important skill an Ingenitus Auror can have, I reckon, and he seems willing to keep going even though it's after 6 o'clock — "you're on a roll, Weasley, you really are" — but just then, Harry sticks his head in the gym door.

"Hey there Ron, Keith," Harry calls out. "Fancy dinner at the Leaky?"

"Sure," I answer. "I'm a free man tonight. Hermione's working late with Riddlesworth doing trial prep. How 'bout you, Hale?"

He smiles and nods. "Why not? But first, come on in here, Potter. Let's show you what Weasley's got going on."

Oh, crap. I've got nothing going on. That's the whole problem. I've been concentrating on my damned wand for half an hour and it's barely budged.

Hale reads the look on my face and laughs. "Come on, Weasley, hang in there. Maybe Harry here would be interested, yeah?"

Harry steps into the room excitedly, tossing his rucksack in the corner. "Hell yeah. I've been dying to know what this is all about."

"OK, the thing you need to know, Harry, is that what separates an Ingenitus from other types of wizards is the heightened ability to sense and then harness the natural energy around them. Of course, all wizards have this ability to one degree or another, but it's an innate, inborn thing in an Ingenitus, and much more pronounced. I guess you could say that Ingenitii have sharp magical instincts — their intuition, at least about magical stuff, is often correct because, for whatever reason, they're able to pick up and interpret the energy around them. That's why they're able to harness Raw Magic when they have to."

Harry nods. "You don't have to convince me. I was there when Ron pulled off the Raw Magic stunt of the century at Malfoy Manor. Something I'll never forget."

Hale grins and slaps my back. "The trick is learn how to do it in a way that doesn't make you pass out," he says with a laugh. "Learning how to Accio a wand is really the key, because if you can do that, then, even if you've been disarmed, you regain the upper hand on an opponent and do it without almost literally killing yourself."

Hale explains that my display of Raw Magic was indeed unusual — and not the kind of thing that an Ingenitus ought to be doing every day, even if they could. It's bloody draining — as I can attest. "But the fact that Weasley could do it at all means his Ingenitus Pathway is open. Wide open, in fact — like a firehose — and the challenge for him is going to be to learn to open and close it at will, not just when the situation is so dire that the energy flows into and out of him so violently."

If my "pathway" as he calls it is so open, then how come I can't Accio my damned wand?

"OK, so … today is Weasley's first day of practical training, Harry. So far, we've just been talking theory and background, but now we're really going to put this stuff to use," Hale continues, ignoring my chagrin. "Nobody can Accio wandlessly the first time they try, Weasley — at least nobody that I've seen. So stop beating yourself up."

Harry laughs. "Good luck with that."

I grumble.

"You've managed to make that wand move ever so slightly, mate — and I haven't even really taught you the full technique yet. So there's every reason to be confident. Just relax and listen." Harry flops down onto the bench next to us, but Hale and I remain standing.

"So Weasley, I read your testimony about the Raw Magic incident and the medical report that St. Mungo's filed a while later. It sounds like what you did was classic Ingenitus stuff — which is to say, you pulled energy from around you into your body and then channeled it outward, yeah?"

I snort. "Yeah, I guess," I sputter, "but I blanked out, remember? Harry had to fill in a lot of the gaps in my testimony."

"But wait," Harry says, jumping up from his seat. "That's just what happened, Ron. I felt it. It was like an invisible wave was drawn toward you, and then … it was so crazy … it shot out of you like a cannon. It was incredible," he says with a grin.

Hale nods and turns to me. "So we know you can summon energy, Weasley. Now here's the secret to turning Raw Magic into Channeled, Wandless Magic. I know you were one of the only recruits who could conjure a Corporeal Patronus when you entered the Auror program, yeah?"

I exchange a look with Harry and then shrug. "Well, uh, yeah. So?"

"So, what do you do to conjure your Patronus?"

Gods … I bite my tongue before I say something really embarrassing out loud. The first thing that enters my head is Hermione. All I have to do is think of any number of moments with her — the night I finally told her I loved her, the first time we made love at Grimmauld Place, the night we got bonded, the way she took me back during the hunt, carrying her over the threshold at Vine Cottage … on and on. I must have stopped to think for a couple of beats too long, because both Harry and Hale are smirking at me.

"I think we know how he conjures a Patronus, mate," Harry says to Hale.

"Shut it, Harry."

"Anyway," says Hale, trying to stifle a grin, "so the energy required to conjure a Patronus is positive — it's a powerful, happy memory. And you plainly have those in abundance."

Harry elbows me in the ribs. I push him by the side of his head and he tumbles sideways with a snorting laugh.

"The psychic action required to summon a wand to you is quite similar, Weasley. You need to bring forth a mental trigger — imagine an experience in which you needed to have a wand but didn't. A dangerous situation. A distressing situation. A moment when the shit was really hitting the fan. The more real it is to you, the better."

Blimey. I don't have to stop and think for even a split second to know that my mental trigger is and always will be Malfoy Manor. Pounding my fists against the walls in that bloody dungeon, clawing at the stones, listening to Hermione wailing above me and knowing there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it — that feeling of helplessness was so overpowering, it still makes me slightly sick just thinking about it.

"Right. OK," I say, hoping my voice doesn't sound too choked off. "And then what?"

"Well, if the memory is strong enough, then all you should need to do is hold out your hand, concentrate on your wand — or any wand, for that matter — and it should come to you once you invoke the incantation." He demonstrates, Accioing my wand from across the room. Harry and I both give him a mocking round of applause, and he gives an exaggerated bow. "Now you give it a go."

Harry and I exchange a look. "Can I try it first?" Harry says. "I'm just curious."

Hale pats him on the back, then takes Harry's wand and walks both wands across the gymnasium, placing them on the chair at the other side of the room. "Go ahead, mate," Hale calls out.

Harry closes his eyes, an intense look of concentration on his face. I'm sure there have to be dozens of memories that could work for him, but if I had to guess, I'd say he's thinking of the time in the cemetery at Little Hangleton, where Riddle came back to physical form, when Cedric was killed. After a few moments, he reaches out toward his wand with his right hand and shouts, "Accio!"

A moment later, he opens his eyes, looking a bit disappointed.

Nothing.

"It's OK, Harry," Hale shouts from his spot next to the wands. "Either you've got it or you don't, mate."

Harry laughs. "No worries. I just wanted to see if I could pull it off. Obviously Wandless Magic isn't my department."

I pat him on the shoulder as Hale Levitates Harry's wand back to him.

"Your turn, Weasley," Hale calls out. "And don't worry — I've never seen anybody do it the first try, even when they've been taught the theory behind the spell like you just have. It may take a few tries — maybe even a few days — before you can really do it."

I nod and step forward, spreading my legs apart a little bit. I don't know what's come over me, but now that Hale's explained the idea — that it's sort of a reverse Patronus — I suddenly have absolutely no doubt. It's not going to take me more than one try, and it's sure as hell not going to take me a few days. That damned wand is coming into my hand, and it's coming now.

I don't close my eyes. I don't strain to concentrate. I just straighten up … set my jaw … throw my shoulders back … raise my hand … think the incantation … and my wand flies like a shot into my palm.

"Holy shit," Harry says in a stunned whisper.

Hale, for his part, looks equally gobsmacked. Then he tucks his wand under his arm and starts clapping. "Bloody hell, Weasley, I think you've got it."

"You think?" I ask with a half grin, twirling my wand between my fingers.

"Yeah, just a bit around the edges," Hale says, laughing. "Bloody hell, man."

"Does this mean we can go eat now?" I ask.

"Heck yeah," says Harry, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "And I'm buying, fellas. I reckon it's wise to stay on the good side of a man who can summon a wand. That little trick could be ruddy useful someday."

The Leaky turns out to be more crowded than I expected for a Wednesday night, but Harry takes the lead, threading through the crowd, and manages to nab us a table toward the back. Heads turn as we move through the pub, but that's been pretty much standard operating procedure ever since the war. Harry draws a lot of stares — and I reckon, since we're with Hale, whom I've nicknamed Pretty Boy, it's only natural that we're drawing attention. After all, the bloke looks like that Michelangelo statue of David pretty much come to life.

I shoot Hermione a Patronus letting her know where we are and telling her to let me know when she's ready to the leave the office so I can come get her, since it's getting fairly late. She Patronuses back a quick OK. After a while, it becomes clear that the pub is so jammed that the only way to get a food order in to the kitchen is to go to the bar. I offer to do the honors. I step to the bar and wave to Hannah Abbott, who throws me a grin as she pulls the tap and shouts that she'll be with me in a sec. I lean my elbow against the bar and take a look around and, bloody hell, that's when I notice how many women are in here tonight — and how many of them are looking at me. I look over my shoulder for a second, reckoning Hale or maybe Harry must be behind me. But no, it's just me. One of them — a blonde who, I have to admit, has a fairly difficult-to-ignore rack stuffed into a low-cut blouse that has to be three sizes too small — gives me a sly grin and then sort of sidles over, looking me up and down. "You're Ron Weasley," she says, running her hands down her hips.

"Uh, yeah." Must get rid of this bird, and quick. "Yes. That would be my name. Yes. Yes it is."

She emits a tinkling little laugh. She seems genuinely amused. Apparently my idiotic, monosyllabic response qualifies as witty banter to this one. "Are you alone tonight?" she says.

Oh bloody hell. "Nope. Not alone. Never alone. Not ever," I say, turning away from her slightly and waving at Hannah again — trying to get her attention without appearing to be too desperate. I mean, I don't want to be rude, but chatting up a bird in a crowded pub is not what I have in mind — and I can just imagine the Daily Prophet headline if one of their ruddy photographers catches me even looking in this girl's direction.

Before my pulse can quicken any more, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see none other than Hermione looking up at me with a funny little grin on her face. "Hey, love," I say, perhaps a bit too loudly to sound truly innocent, and Hermione just shakes her head and laughs. She turns to the mini-skirted blonde and says, quite casually, "Shove off," before wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a sloppy wet kiss on my lips, which I reciprocate quite happily, lifting her off the floor slightly.

I lower Hermione to the floor and laugh out loud. "Thank Godric you're here," I mutter against her lips. "That bird scared me."

"Never fear, darling — I will always protect you from such terrors."

"Thank Merlin for that," I answer, finally seeing Hannah headed our way. "The usual, love?" Hermione nods. "Hannah, the lads and I will have three fish and chips, please, and the lady here would like a chopped salad, easy on the blue cheese. Oh, and three butter beers and a glass of white wine — pinot grigio if you have any. If not, then sauvignon blanc."

"No worries — Hi, Hermione!" Hannah says as she runs through the swinging door to the kitchen.

Then it dawns on me. "Wait a second, what are you doing here?" I say, turning back to Hermione. "I told you to send me a Patronus when you were ready to head out."

She grimaces. "Sorry — I decided I couldn't wait, so I headed over."

"Damn it, Mione, it's late and it's dark outside — you know I don't like you wandering around Diagon Alley at night."

"I wasn't 'wandering around' as you put it, Ronald," she says, rolling her eyes. "I Apparated from the Ministry to just in front of the pub. Honestly, you're ridiculous sometimes."

"Maybe I am. I don't know," I say, lowering my lips to brush up against hers again. "I just don't like the idea of you being out of my sight," I add before kissing her softly. What I don't say is what's really on the back of my mind. I don't like the idea of her being in the Ministry alone at night. I don't like the idea of her being at Vine Cottage alone ever. And this nagging feeling of dread is driving me just slightly mental.

oooOOOooo

A/N — Hello, dear readers. This was a short chapter by my standards, wasn't it? (Though it's still tickling the 4,000-word range!) I decided to post this chapter at a natural breaking-off point. Don't worry — there's more to come, and soon!

In the meantime, please do review, friends. It's so wonderful to hear from you. If you've read any of my Author's Notes at all, you know what a worry-wart I am. I like to know that I'm keeping you interested and that you're willing to hang in there for more chapters!

All the best …

Holly.