It had not been Ron's idea to take Hannah to his home; it just sort of happened that way.
Earlier that week, they had visited her home, where he met her mother, a larger, older version of Hannah who was kind and honest. Presently, they sat at the family table with his father on one end and his mother on the other.
"Why don't you ever take your other friends home?" Arthur Weasley asked. "We'd love to meet them, since we've heard so much about them."
"True enough, dear," his wife countered. "Yet he's always on about Hannah, with what a pretty witch she is."
"Mother!" he shouted, both he and the girl going red. Their fingers brushed against each other under the table. All at once the approval of his family members seemed irrelevant as he found himself lost in Hannah's eyes, their hands locking together.
"Oh, look, they're holding hands!" a voice called from upstairs, the familiar creaking indicating a descent was taking place. He expected it to be Fred, or Charlie, or anyone else, but as he whipped his head around and blinked a few times, he saw that it was Ginny.
"But... but it can't be you..." he managed after a length of time that escaped him. The sunlight filtering through the window was fading quickly.
"That's right, I'm dead. Silly me," his sister said before collapsing into a bloody mess. He raced over to her as Hannah transformed behind him.
"No, no, you're going to be alright!" he assured, mostly assuring himself as he turned around again. "We're going to rescue you-"
His parents were dead. The werewolf had slaughtered them before they even had the chance to react.
"No, you can't die- no, this is all wrong-"
It felt like the nightmare would have continued had it not been for someone shaking him awake.
"We need to be on our toes." It was his brother waking him, meaning he still had some family left. His face had been pressed against a window, which presently hurt his teeth. That's right. We're on the train. In their escape from the school, some of the weaker fliers had enlisted a pair of oddly helpful elves while he and the twins mounted the three broomsticks and forced their way out of a window. An Auror from the air went after them, and it looked like they were through, but he turned around for some reason and George hit him with a leg-locker to keep him from controlling the broom as Fred knocked his wand out of his hand.
What was it that made him turn around? If we'd been anyone else, it'd have cost 'im his life.
He took stock of the people around him in the double compartment, one of which he had never occupied.
Parvati was staring straight at him, Hermione was mercifully asleep next to him with Mafalda, and his brothers were across from him.
"Where's Cho?"
"She's getting us a portkey," Fred started. "Seeker that she is, shouldn't be out of her wheelhouse."
"Would've liked to see her getting out of that rat's trap on a broom," George muttered. "Must've blended in well; real natural at playing a wizard her age."
The Indian witch scowled.
"The Aurors don't know everyone," she obviated. "Really, we should all be happy she happened to have a pair of trousers on."
The twins chuckled at the convenience that narrowly saved their lives. I guess if she'd been in her uniform, no one would have believed she was that wizard, or she'd have had to try a lot harder at acting. Must have some kind of preference for trousers every so often, playing Quidditch and all.
Eventually, Cho would return with a portkey, but his concern was where they were going after that.
"What about Terry- and Hannah? Where is she?"
"She's still alive," Parvati supplied. "When I got here, Cho and I met with Sir Nicholas and he gave a full report, from a perfectly reasonable distance, in his words. Apparently, she went to the Department, which might be a bit better than the Death Eaters, but they're going to be getting information out of her until they're satisfied they have everything."
Ron was not quite certain how it would be worse if Voldemort were in charge of her, but he could tell the witch was glaring at him.
"What?"
"Do you know what Dean would say, if he were here?"
"No. Where is he?"
"He'd say you should have put her out of her misery when you had the chance." She exhaled sharply. "I might not have been able to either, but that's what he would say. About an hour ago, or however long it's been since everything fell apart, he looked at me and told me it was time."
"Time for what?"
"That's enough, both of you," Hermione muttered, rousing, likely due to the raised voices. All this running has us exhausted- some of us more than others. "I want to go after Hannah and Terry as much as you do, but we cannot trade a tiny chance at getting them back for all five of us."
"Well, how are we going to get into the Department?" he asked, redirecting. "We don't know where Terry went, so we can't do anything for him at the present-"
Footsteps outside the compartment had his wand out, but Fred raised a hand. It was Cho, whose disguise had faded. Well, that's not that bad. I doubt anyone saw her do anything illegal.
"Do you have the-" The witch produced an oddly shaped piece of wood almost immediately.
"We must go. There is much to discuss."
As they nudged Mafalda awake and put their hands on the portkey, Ron could not help but notice the deep concern in the Ravenclaw's eyes.
As they released the piece of wood and the world stopped spinning, it appeared they were in some kind of upper room in a lively city, from the noise outside. Looking out the window, the street looked a little like Diagon Alley, but less magical and discernibly less cramped.
"The hell is this place?" he asked, turning around.
"Wales, I assume," George started. "Well, I've eliminated Wools and Wiles."
"Old man Gruffydd was a secretive fellow, but his accent gave it away. Might've been clearer for you if you'd asked. 'course, we might've decided you were nosy and sent you to Australia."
He looked over at Mafalda, but then remembered she was from Belfast, so a bit across the way. Can't help but feel like there was someone we knew from here. He put his odd feelings aside as everyone looked at Cho again.
"Did you see where they took Terry?" Hermione asked.
She shook her head.
"I wish I had. I think the Death Eaters were gone almost as soon as they took him." Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "I do not know what the Aurors were still doing in the school, but I saw some go in. When I was going back, I saw it fall."
"What?"
"I thought it could not be real. The castle... it collapsed. It was too fast for it to be one person."
"What do you mean it collapsed?!" Ron asked. Hermione touched his arm from behind him.
"Ron... I've been talking to Neville in the library every so often," she started. "He said it felt like there was something wrong with the school- the school's magic. The castle wasn't held together by pressure or... exemplary architecture... nothing in the world would have stood as long as Hogwarts without being supported by magic."
The Gryffindor wizard blinked in disbelief, or perhaps unwilling belief. He had heard time and time again of the wonders of the Four Founders, capable of great works they took to their graves, for fear such power would destroy the school, but it had never occurred to him that they did not build the school to last forever, and against all kinds of attacks, whatever conjured slings and transfigured arrows the world could manage. No one builds things to fall the next year- I sure wouldn't want to have to build something twice... but I can't even start to think of a way to make something last forever.
Finally, it came to him that his belief that the castle would weather anything was more of a hope than anything else, something he had wanted to be able to take for granted. First we lose Dumbledore... no first Voldemort comes back, then he gets an apprentice and makes us all try to kill each other, then Dumbledore dies... The boy clutching a strip of wood hard enough to make his hand turn purple turned from despair to rage as he pictured his enemies celebrating their almost uncontested victories. His face felt hot and his breath started heaving, but he forced it into regulation.
"We're going after hard targets..." he growled. "That's final, no if's, and's or anything else- I don't know what Dean is doing- I don't care what Dean is doing-" He turned to Parvati. "We're not going after anyone with every right to be in school and worry about scraping by on the exams- or Quidditch, or anything else we've given up. We're going after someone... responsible."
"Fine," Parvati responded. "I'll pass it along, but I can't guarantee anyone sensible is going to join in your plan of doing everything in the least effective way possible."
Ron had heard enough from Dean to know what she meant by the effective way. He had implied that his intention was to go after 'weak links' as he called them, but what he meant were soft targets. Generally, Ministry employees had forgotten most of what they learned in Hogwarts and did not proceed to use every day; the majority of them could not produce a shield charm- but there was a reasonable chance they were connected to Death Eaters or belonged to the faction. He's meaning to get information out of them, probably. He sighed. At least they're adults.
With the destruction of Hogwarts and the diffusion of children across the British Isles, at least for the summer months, there was one soft target neither side could use. Ministry'll be using this as a chance to build their own school, on their own territory. We'll need to have someone on the inside.
"Where are the Death Eaters going to put their kids?" he asked. Not a chance in Hell they'd let 'em go to the Ministry school.
"They have properties, Ron," Hermione supplied. "You can claim to your credit your family has never been invited, but they have everything you could imagine. Floating castles, enchanted groves, and some of the more secretive will just buy city blocks in nonmagical cities. Ever since they've had the Philosopher's Stone, it's been easier than ever."
"That's a problem for the Ministry," Fred interjected. "They'll be switching the money system soon enough, not that they'll miss a chance to get out of debts."
Ron remembered his brothers had been trying to start a business for years, and had been encouraged to look into business licensing and regulation. It was this facet of their distaste for the government that had them particularly annoyed with Percy, and his indifference to 'misappropriations', whatever those were.
"They can use the Stone for other purposes than just creating pure gold," Hermione explained before George could finish whatever joke his twin started. "Even under an entirely different economic system... having it, even without anything else, would make them exceptionally powerful."
The Gryffindor doubted he was the only one trying to think of some way to nullify the benefit of the Stone, but it was impossible. Even if the entire world no longer valued gold, which would almost certainly destroy Secrecy, Voldemort would still have the font of eternal life. There was no way he could conceptualize any way life would not be valuable, unless it was no longer worth the living, and the Death Eaters seemed intent on making it so for those they did not kill themselves. Guess they won't be able to sell any to Hermione when she's in prison fifty years after they've won. Can't say luck never did anything for us.
"Then the only thing we can do is get it away from them somehow," he decided. "If they don't do anything stupid all of a sudden, they won't abuse the gold so badly the muggles find out someone's got an unlimited supply."
"The Stone would be their most jealously guarded possession," Parvati started back, not rejecting it outright. "I would not be surprised to learn that Voldemort carries it with him."
There was a veritable pall cast over the group. The idea of it being warded, locked in a box in a foreign country might have collectively struck them as prohibitive, but the idea that he who had escaped death was holding it was beyond description.
He could feel Cho's hand shake as she gave him his wand, though her eyes were steel. Ron exhaled once before speaking, his thoughts still turning it over.
"Then we know where it is."
"Are you completely fucking deaf, you bellend?" George asked. "Did bloody Voldemort curse your ears off while he was infiltrating Hogwarts singlehandedly?"
"Perhaps it's genetic," Fred suggested. "I didn't hear a thing out of what anyone just said while we were all frozen in place."
"That's enough," Parvati shot back, taking a cue from Hermione. "Ron's right. Whether we destroy it or use it ourselves, we need to have it in our hands. No one's going to get it for us."
"What are we doing about the Department-"
"They'll be going after-"
"-us, they'll be going after us as soon as-"
"Stop!" Mafalda shouted. "You have to stop... no one can keep up with it when we're all talking at once... isn't this why we had a leader? I liked having a leader." Fred and George might have taken suggestions from Terry. They'd never take an order from me.
"Terry suggested you once," Ron offered, looking to the Ravenclaw. She looked away. "Though of course it's too soon to say... damn it, we're not getting anywhere. Who wants to be leader until we get him back?"
No hands went up. We can eliminate Parvati. I reckon she won't even stay the night here. Wherever in Wales 'here' is.
"Okay, well, what do we do today?" he asked. Let's hope that's not too hard to figure out as a group.
"We should learn all we can about the situation," Hermione proposed. "We don't know where our friends are, we don't know what's changed in the Ministry, not the extent of the changes in any case, and we don't know what the Death Eaters were trying to accomplish by putting dementors in the school." Something in the witch's voice made it seem like she was interested in something else, but Ron could hardly guess what it was.
"Okay, then we should split up and meet back here," Parvati said. "There's no need for specific orders, you just learn all you can."
"Well, so we don't all go and look into the same thing-"
The twins said they would go asking after the Ministry before leaving the room. Well, good for you. I hope your plan isn't just 'ask Dad.' He knows they don't tell him anything.
There was a misconception among Hogwarts students that the amount of public employees made keeping any kind of secret from the people impossible, but it was only because they did not understand how a 'need to know' system worked. It was not as if every employee were handed a full dissertation on the truth and another on what the people would be told, and they would have to lie by sticking with the second; they were handed only one version of the truth and the personal knowledge was so divided between the employees that one employee of one department may have memories that contradict a single detail on the public statement. And at that point, it makes sense to assume you just misremembered it.
Having elected to see if there was any news about Hannah's capture, though he expected a fire call would be intercepted. I don't even have an owl at this point- we'll have to come up with some way of contacting people who haven't probably been expelled. Hannah was looking into Occlumency, but that'd never work at any kind of range and we'd be vulnerable to an interception of an even worse kind.
Ron resolved to writing a coded letter to Susan Bones, who would be concerned for her and likely to know something through her aunt. I'll put it through the damn floo- we have to leave this place anyway.
He learned from Hermione that Neville had already escaped; his grandmother had only just written her parents, whom she called on a fellytone. Muggles'll be listening to those things- she'd be careful with what she said. He went ahead and assumed the Longbottom matron had already written his parents, who probably did not need to hear three more of their children were missing, but at least they would know why. It occurred to him that she had invited Hannah to the manor as well, meaning she knew to see about her as well. Mrs. Abbott won't be too surprised to find an owl at her window.
At the same time, it seemed like the wrong year to start a concerned parents' association.
It would turn out to be a moot point whether or not they should give Mafalda a task, having taken on one herself. She went with Cho to determine if there were a wizarding part of the city, and it turned out there was, called the Red Dragon's Pub, which went up and up in a spiraling staircase to eight or nine businesses for a magical clientele. They were in a larger city called Wrexham, far to the east as you could go in Wales. He cursed himself for rarely looking at maps, but guessed it was not a habit common among people who rarely travelled by car or train. Hermione had brought some books in her bag, but nothing about the area, only a few items on her long reading list. It had been up to her to research the Memory Charm, which was supposed to be difficult for a witch her age, and there was already more she had put on herself.
Ron caught her alone as everyone else seemed to be going about their tasks.
"Much as I hate to say this, it can't just be you reading and learning how to do everything. You'll get it all eventually, prob'ly faster'n any of us, but if we split up things you don't know, like Apparation and, well, I don't know, Legilimency up among the rest of us..."
"I agree," she said quietly. "That was what we were trying to do with the group, it just... well, a lot happened that was out of our hands." She took out a diagram of labeled circles. "I've been trying to add to this for a while, well, Terry and I were having these thoughts about the theory of magic, and we were wondering about where to put the Patronus Charm, and it just seems to be in a category of its own, now that I've seen it up close. It makes me wonder about the emotional component to dark magic and how that compares to the necessity of a happy memory."
She was silent for a moment.
"We'll get him back," he promised, knowing it was another impossible task to give himself. Hermione returned a sad smile.
"I don't know what to say. I truly don't know what to say except 'there's the man I know'. You make promises you cannot keep because you're not afraid of failure." All of a sudden he felt uncomfortable. Hannah should have told- I should have told Terry, he'd have told her in a heartbeat- you can't just say things like this. She nearly reached out, but he backed away, and a troubled look passed over her eyes. There had to be a reason he would reject being touched. "Oh. I should have expected it... Sorry. I really also should have supposed that I would be the last to know."
She walked off before he could get any words out, choked up as his throat was.
