Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, except for a couple I've added.
Author's Notes: For those who like "action", most of it is in parts 4,5,6 and 7! This story has seven chapters:
1. Harry 2. Hermione 3. Ron 4. The Party 5. The Danger. 6. The Long Night. 7. The Dawn.
Part 3: Ron.
Ronald Weasley knocked on the door marked "C.E.O." and waited for an answer, checking his watch as he did so.
"Come in."
Ron opened the door, and saw his boss sitting in the familiar black leather chair behind the imposing oak desk, which was cluttered with files as usual. "Ah, Ron, you're back, good. Take a seat." Ron folded his tall frame into another leather chair. "How did it go in Wales, then?"
"Fine, sir. No problem." A ghost of a reminiscent grin spread across Ron's lean, freckled face. "They were pretty horrified when we turned up - they weren't expecting us at all. Three arrests, and the rest we just cautioned - I think we got all their dragon eggs, and nestlings - they were shocked enough not to try it again, I reckon."
"Excellent. The Minister will be pleased it was all sorted out so quickly."
Ron shrugged. "I'm sure the Minister's got more on his mind than a spot of illegal dragon-fighting being organized in North Wales."
"Quite. In fact, I was speaking to the Minister's office this morning - to your brother Percy, actually." The Chief Enforcement Officer frowned. "Some of our sources have been reporting information about a rise in Dark Arts activity. That's why I wanted to see you."
"Me? Um - you haven't forgotten I'm off this weekend, sir? My sister's wedding -"
"No, no, I hadn't forgotten. How could I, when such illustrious persons are involved?" The C.E.O. smiled. "But, as it happens, you may be in the right place at the right time. Your family live in Devon, don't they?"
"Yes, Ottery St Catchpole," Ron said, looking rather surprised at all this interest. "Near Honiton."
"Exactly. And my sources tell me there has been an unusual amount of activity in that area. Several persons we thought were lying low, have been seen down that way during the last few days. These people." The C.E.O. pulled a list from his desk drawer and passed it to Ron, whose eyebrows rose as he read it. "And, of course, there may be others we haven't spotted."
"You think they're planning something to coincide with the wedding?" Ron asked slowly, looking concerned.
"Well, we can't be sure - it may just be coincidence - but you and I both know a lot of well-known people will be at that wedding. Maybe someone has found it too tempting a target."
Ron nodded.
"Of course, there may be nothing in it. It's a popular part of the world for wizarding folk who want to live a quiet life, after all. But I thought you should know, so that you can keep your eyes and ears open."
"Are you going to send down a squad, sir - in case?"
"Not to the wedding - don't want to be too high-profile about it. But I'm going to station a squad in Exeter, and you can call them in if you think it's necessary. Pick your own team. We've not got much else on at the moment."
Ron nodded again.
"Well, I think that's all, Ron. Enjoy your weekend - I hope the wedding goes well."
"So do I!" Ron murmured as he unfolded himself from the chair.
Half an hour later, having made the necessary arrangements and cleared his desk, Ron jogged down the steps of the main building occupied by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. He saw a patrol of four Hit Wizards trudging exhaustedly towards the building, eyes red-rimmed. "Rough night, guys?"
"You can say that again," one woman muttered. "Chasing a manticore some damnfool wizard let escape into the middle of Coventry city centre. Caused a five-car pile-up on the ring road. Had to call in the Accidental Magic Reversal Department and do fifty-four Memory Charms. It was a mess."
"Where you off to, Ron?" another wizard asked.
"Weekend off," said Ron cheerfully, kicking the prop from under his motorbike and climbing on.
"Jammy git!" they shouted after him good-humouredly, as the bike roared out of the car park.
Another half-hour later, and Ron was stuffing his weekend gear into a rucksack in the cramped flat he shared with one of his colleagues. When the phone rang, he threw the rucksack on to the sofa, which was littered with dirty socks, old newspapers and take-away food cartons, and went in search of the phone, which he found on top of the fridge.
"Hullo? Oh, hi Mum...Yeah, I'm just leaving to go to Paddington...No, don't worry, I won't miss it!...I've got loads of time...Have you picked up my suit yet?...O.K...Yeah...See you later then. Bye."
The last thing he did before leaving the flat was to scribble a note to his flatmate and stick it on the front of the fridge, where hopefully it wouldn't be missed. "Dean - I've left the bike out in the yard - please keep an eye on it. See you Tuesday I expect. R."
Having plenty of time before his train left, Ron preferred to take the Tube to Paddington Station. He could have got there quicker using Floo Powder, or simply by Apparating, but he had loved using the Muggle Tube since he had first discovered it as a teenager, and the M.L.E.S. frowned on its agents risking being seen Apparating in crowded railway stations. So Ron sat on the jolting Tube, his rucksack on his lap, and thought about his trip home for the weekend, and the wedding. He still thought of The Burrow as his home. The flat was not homely - it was merely a place to crash in between assignments, somewhere to sleep, shower, shave and change before going out again. Ron tried to go and see his parents whenever his hectic schedule allowed. Mum and Dad had never really been the same, he thought, since Bill had died, and he remembered the events of six years before.
Two years had then passed after the final battle against Voldemort at Hogwarts, and the Gringotts goblins had decided with the Ministry of Magic that they should open any old bank vaults belonging to Dark Arts wizards who had died in that struggle. Their possessions were to be confiscated by the Ministry. However, the goblins had found that some of the vaults had had curses left on them by their previous owners. As Gringotts' top curse-breaker, Bill Weasley had been called in to try to open them. Tragically, not until he entered it did Bill discover that one vault was fatally booby-trapped. Not just Bill but several Gringotts goblins had died instantly, and a whole tunnel full of vaults had been completely destroyed. Bill, of course, had known the risks involved in his job, but that thought had not been of much comfort to his grieving family. At least, Mrs. Weasley had sobbed, he hadn't had a wife and children to miss him as well.
Ron had felt very bitter over Bill's death. It seemed so ironic that it should come just when they were all feeling a new sense of security after that seventh-year battle against Voldemort. Just when they were beginning to recover from the losses they had sustained then - Dumbledore, Hagrid, Sirius and the others. True, there were still plenty of Dark Wizards around - not all their enemies had been defeated - but the Gringotts explosion had been worse for being such an unexpected blow. Ron had been in a dark mood for months afterwards. It was in that mood that he had had that final, dreadful quarrel with Hermione - the quarrel they had both been too proud to make up. If she really wanted to make it up, he'd reasoned, she would make the first move. Only she didn't. And he didn't. And here they were, six years later, not having spoken to each other since then.
Work had been Ron's salvation during those difficult times. He loved his job, tough though it was sometimes. He was a fully-fledged Enforcer now, liable to be called out anywhere to cases of magical lawbreaking; and he enjoyed the challenge and the fact that every day was different. He'd tried several times to lure Harry away from his Quidditch column into the M.L.E.S., but Harry only laughed and said that he wanted a quiet life for a while - if playing top-level Quidditch could be considered quiet.
The Tube doors slid open. Paddington. Ron shouldered his rucksack and stepped on to the escalator. Hard to believe it was six years since he had spoken to Hermione. Harry was always mentioning things about her progress, but Ron knew a lot about what she'd been doing anyway; through mutual friends. He wondered what she would say if she knew he had bought all her books. It was difficult to avoid seeing her when they both lived in London, but then she was often away, on her research trips, and Ron was often away on M.L.E.S. business. On his rare days off he was more likely to be catching up on laundry or visiting The Burrow than to be hanging round Diagon Alley bumping into old friends.
He had seen her there once, in fact. Two years ago, he'd been walking down Diagon Alley when he had seen her coming out of Flourish and Blotts' with a tall fair man. Instinctively, Ron had ducked into Madam Malkin's robe shop and watched through the window. He needn't have dodged the meeting - they could just have nodded to each other - but... Anyway, she stood in the street outside, engrossed in talk, for ten minutes before moving away, and Ron was forced into asking Madam Malkin to measure him for new camouflage robes he didn't really need.
He knew who the tall fair man was, too. Stephen, the writer that Lavender Brown had prattled about - Hermione was virtually living with him, she said. Ron was slightly ashamed of the fact that he had gone and run a background check on Stephen at the Ministry, but it had come up with nothing against him. He should be glad she had found someone nice - Ron had had a series of easy-going, friendly relationships with girlfriends in the last six years, but he had never cared enough about any of them to stop putting his work first, so they hadn't lasted very long.
Grabbing a cardboard cup of coffee from a stall on the station concourse, Ron pushed through the crowds of Muggles and looked up at the blue screens to find out which platform the Devon train was leaving from. Tomorrow - the day of the wedding itself - there was a wizard express special running down to Devon, bringing many guests - but Ron wanted to be there tonight for the party. Besides, he was the best man. "Who else would I ask?" Harry had said, smiling, and they had both laughed a little, thinking way back to the day they had met, on platform nine-and-three-quarters at King's Cross.
Today, as the train slid out from platform two, Ron sat amidst the Muggles and thought about what Harry had said then; and what the C.E.O. had said this morning. And he wondered what he would find to say to Hermione in a few hours' time.
The train gathered speed, and headed west in the mid-day sunshine.
End of Part 3. Coming soon in Part 4, the pre-wedding party takes place, but will all go smoothly?
(I think I'll dedicate this story to all the times I've arrived at Paddington station looking forward to catching a train out of London...And to my good friends who live in Ottery St Mary, Devon - going there in 2 weeks!)