August 4th 1995
Harry said, "Ron, I can't believe that you think I should ignore him."
Ron paused with his toothbrush still in his mouth and glanced at Harry's reflection in the mirror. He leisurely completed the cleaning of his teeth and turned to Harry.
"Harry, let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time there was a little boy. He was so pale he was practically an albino, but his daddy was the biggest meanest Death Eater on the face of the planet. So he gets the feeling that he's better than everyone else, you know? Even though with his colouring he could likely fetch thousands of Galleons by exhibiting himself as a paleface freak in a circus show, he still strutted around Hogwarts like he owned the place. Maybe he did in a way, seeing as his daddy was pumping most of his cash into getting his son good grades."
Harry tried to interrupt, but Ron wasn't finished yet.
"As if that wasn't enough, this brat had to pick on other people. It was fun, for him. He was such a bully, and he never went anywhere without his two bodyguards. When one person did have the guts to stand up to him, he'd curl into a little ball, cry, and threaten to tell his precious father. Who would then storm up to the school and curse everyone in sight. Are you following me here?"
Harry jumped in as Ron paused for breath. "Ron, I don't think you're being entirely fair to the guy."
Ron wound himself up again, righteously indignant. "Entirely FAIR?? FAIR?? Harry, the guy's a wanker. For SIX years he's been teasing everyone possible. Have you forgotten? 'Oh, look, it's Potty and the Weasel, with their tagalong Mudblood'." He mimicked Malfoy's voice in voice in high pitched tones. "What about, 'Hey Scarhead, your tattoo's peeling. You better get it redone or you'll lose all that attention you've been getting'. Harry, he's SCUM! He's worse than scum. He's… he's the sort of scum that even scum calls scum."
Harry spoke up again. "Ron, be quiet for a minute and listen. I agree that his character isn't entirely… wholesome… but shouldn't we help him anyway? That's what we do! Besides," he added maliciously, "what a loss it would be to the Hogwarts stud pool."
Ron sighed. "It's your choice, I guess. But I'm not coming. You can risk your neck helping the guy, who for all you know is leading you into some elaborate trap concocted by his dear father, fine. But sorry Harry, friendship does not extend to allowing myself to be killed by this guy I hate." His tone of voice made it completely clear that he considered this discussion to be over.
They gave the bathroom up to Ginny, who was waiting none too patiently outside, and headed for breakfast, or perhaps more accurately, lunch. Molly Weasley was at the stove, brandishing her spoon.
"And exactly WHAT unearthly time were you two in bed at last night? It's nearly noon!"
Ron stifled a laugh. He, Harry and Ginny had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, playing a new game known simply as "Splat". Harry had received it as a birthday present from Fred and George, whose trade in tricks had raged through Hogwarts. They'd already bought an empty lot in Diagon Alley and would open their shop there, now that they'd completed school. The game they'd designed consisted of a board with counters that moved around. Like all wizard games, the pieces could talk, more or less. The blue die that came with the game was a temperamental one, but if sufficiently cajoled, it would roll to whatever number was requested. The counters refused to share squares, and would bump their opponents off the board if not scolded. Harry's version was a prototype, and the actual thing was expected to be marketed early November. "Enough time for the kids to decide that they want it for Christmas," George had grinned.
"Gin, is Tanya coming?" enquired Ron over breakfast / lunch. "She should be here by now, shouldn't she?"
"Dunno," Ginny mused. "She was supposed to be here at ten."
Harry thought he heard a disapproving, "While you lot were snoring in bed" wafting in from the kitchen over more mouth-watering smells. "Who's Tanya?" he asked.
Ron said, "Ginny's friend. Gin wanted her over to stay for a while, and since there's only one spare bed in her room, Hermione couldn't come until she left, which should be on the 12th. If she's coming at all," he added, glancing up at the clock.
As they were polishing off the remainder of breakfast / lunch, an owl swooped into the dining room with a scroll. "It's from Tanya," exclaimed Ginny, recognising the trademark purple crepe ribbon holding the scroll closed. She opened it and read it out loud. "Dear Ginny, Terribly sorry but I am not able to make it to your house this summer as I have broken my leg, and the doctor says I must stay at home. What a drag! Hope this doesn't cause any problems for you. Tanya."
Ron looked away from the window where he had been staring at a glorious summer day. "Owl Hermione and tell her to come over now," was his only comment.
* * * * * * *
Hermione arrived late that evening, well after dinner. Harry watched her cheerily wave goodbye to her parents as they drove off in their well-used BMW. He had time to greet her with "How are…" before Ron grasped their arms and yanked them none too gently to his bedroom, where he slammed the door with a thud that shook the frame. He was tense and succinct. Pointing to the bed, he barked, "Sit!" Then, looking at Harry, "Explain."
Harry was mystified. "Explain what?"
Ron pursed his lips. "Malfoy."
Hermione's eyes were flicking from one to the other as though she was watching a Swivenhodge match. It was quite clear that she thought the two of them equally mad. But as Harry extracted Malfoy's letter from his bag, and handed it to her, her brow furrowed in worry. After reading the letter twice, she looked up again.
"What did you say?"
Harry said, without any particular weighting of words, "I haven't replied yet. Ron didn't want me to do anything, as he thinks this might all be a trap. Yet, somehow, I think it would be the right thing to do if I went."
Hermione flared up. "Of course it would be the right thing to do! I mean, you saved Wormtail, didn't you Harry? This is the same thing!"
Ron interrupted with, "Well, not exactly, Hermione. See, if Harry left him, it wouldn't be like allowing Sirius and Lupin to kill him. This is Voldemort we're talking about! It'll be no black mark on his conscience, I can tell you that! And Malfoy. If anyone deserves to die, it's him. He was happy when Cedric died. Why can't any of you seem to remember?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but it was Harry who answered. "Because we're the good guys, Ron. If I allow him to be killed when perhaps I could have saved him, it would be as if I killed him myself. Sirius feels that guilt over my parents, no matter how many times I tell him he couldn't have known what was going to happen. Alright, so this may be a trap. But I don't think so, and I can tell that Hermione doesn't either." Hermione nodded in silent assent. "So, if Malfoy dies, won't it be my fault?"
Ron gazed resignedly at both of their set faces and stubborn, determined chins. He sighed heavily. "Well, Harry, it's your choice of course. And you too, Hermione. But there's no way in the seven levels of Hell that you'll make me go with you." With that, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door.
Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek as he sagged, defeated, onto the coverlet of Ron's bed. "I'll be with you. It should be enough. All we have to do is get Malfoy and get out of there, right? No reason to go looking for Voldemort, especially when he's returning to power. Nothing we can do on our own, right?" She was half making a statement and half wanting reassurance.
Harry nodded wearily. "Right. We'll go as soon as we can."
Hermione said, "Shall I go say hello to Ginny, then? I'll leave you and Ron to sort things out between you." With that, she left, allowing the door to hang ajar. Harry got to his feet to close it when Ron reentered the room, abashed.
"Harry," he began, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad, it's just that… I really hate Malfoy! And I can't stand the thought of you out there in for Forbidden Forest, risking life and limb to rescue a guy who'll turn around and stab you in the back first chance he gets!"
"Ron," Harry interrupted, anticipating one of Ron's heartfelt apologies, "You can come with us, it you want."
Ron's face hardened. "I just came to say I'm sorry. I'm still not going."
Harry sighed. "In that case, if we don't come back, you can comfort yourself with the fact that you were probably right, and that Hermione and I died because you weren't there to watch our backs. And don't forget to tell people what happened, will you? I'm sure Rita Skeeter would love a legitimate interview with The-Boy-Who-Lived-Who-Finally-Died's best friend. You can tell her everything, okay? I promise I won't mind if you inform her about the fact that my first pair of pajamas was pink and covered with bunnies. At that point I'll be past caring."
Ron went white. "Harry… I'm sure nothing will… happen…"
"One can't be too sure. I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight, Ron."
It was harsh, he knew. His mind was reeling. How was Ron taking it? Perhaps, if it was Wormtail who so desperately needed rescuing, would Harry be inclined to save him? Not likely. But then again, Malfoy hadn't killed anyone's parents…
-End Chapter Two-
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's read this far. It's coming quite slowly... I seem to be afflicted with a permanent case of writer's block, and haven't written anything for a long time. Chapter Three coming as quickly as is humanly possible (for me)! Keep rocking!!
Disclaimer: Tanya can be taken by anyone at all... she's just a name! Her "trademark purple crepe ribbon" was pulled from the recesses of my imagination and I'm feeling rather possessive of it. "Splat" is a made up game. Everything else belongs to JK Rowling (All hail the Goddess!!)
--Sera
Harry said, "Ron, I can't believe that you think I should ignore him."
Ron paused with his toothbrush still in his mouth and glanced at Harry's reflection in the mirror. He leisurely completed the cleaning of his teeth and turned to Harry.
"Harry, let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time there was a little boy. He was so pale he was practically an albino, but his daddy was the biggest meanest Death Eater on the face of the planet. So he gets the feeling that he's better than everyone else, you know? Even though with his colouring he could likely fetch thousands of Galleons by exhibiting himself as a paleface freak in a circus show, he still strutted around Hogwarts like he owned the place. Maybe he did in a way, seeing as his daddy was pumping most of his cash into getting his son good grades."
Harry tried to interrupt, but Ron wasn't finished yet.
"As if that wasn't enough, this brat had to pick on other people. It was fun, for him. He was such a bully, and he never went anywhere without his two bodyguards. When one person did have the guts to stand up to him, he'd curl into a little ball, cry, and threaten to tell his precious father. Who would then storm up to the school and curse everyone in sight. Are you following me here?"
Harry jumped in as Ron paused for breath. "Ron, I don't think you're being entirely fair to the guy."
Ron wound himself up again, righteously indignant. "Entirely FAIR?? FAIR?? Harry, the guy's a wanker. For SIX years he's been teasing everyone possible. Have you forgotten? 'Oh, look, it's Potty and the Weasel, with their tagalong Mudblood'." He mimicked Malfoy's voice in voice in high pitched tones. "What about, 'Hey Scarhead, your tattoo's peeling. You better get it redone or you'll lose all that attention you've been getting'. Harry, he's SCUM! He's worse than scum. He's… he's the sort of scum that even scum calls scum."
Harry spoke up again. "Ron, be quiet for a minute and listen. I agree that his character isn't entirely… wholesome… but shouldn't we help him anyway? That's what we do! Besides," he added maliciously, "what a loss it would be to the Hogwarts stud pool."
Ron sighed. "It's your choice, I guess. But I'm not coming. You can risk your neck helping the guy, who for all you know is leading you into some elaborate trap concocted by his dear father, fine. But sorry Harry, friendship does not extend to allowing myself to be killed by this guy I hate." His tone of voice made it completely clear that he considered this discussion to be over.
They gave the bathroom up to Ginny, who was waiting none too patiently outside, and headed for breakfast, or perhaps more accurately, lunch. Molly Weasley was at the stove, brandishing her spoon.
"And exactly WHAT unearthly time were you two in bed at last night? It's nearly noon!"
Ron stifled a laugh. He, Harry and Ginny had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, playing a new game known simply as "Splat". Harry had received it as a birthday present from Fred and George, whose trade in tricks had raged through Hogwarts. They'd already bought an empty lot in Diagon Alley and would open their shop there, now that they'd completed school. The game they'd designed consisted of a board with counters that moved around. Like all wizard games, the pieces could talk, more or less. The blue die that came with the game was a temperamental one, but if sufficiently cajoled, it would roll to whatever number was requested. The counters refused to share squares, and would bump their opponents off the board if not scolded. Harry's version was a prototype, and the actual thing was expected to be marketed early November. "Enough time for the kids to decide that they want it for Christmas," George had grinned.
"Gin, is Tanya coming?" enquired Ron over breakfast / lunch. "She should be here by now, shouldn't she?"
"Dunno," Ginny mused. "She was supposed to be here at ten."
Harry thought he heard a disapproving, "While you lot were snoring in bed" wafting in from the kitchen over more mouth-watering smells. "Who's Tanya?" he asked.
Ron said, "Ginny's friend. Gin wanted her over to stay for a while, and since there's only one spare bed in her room, Hermione couldn't come until she left, which should be on the 12th. If she's coming at all," he added, glancing up at the clock.
As they were polishing off the remainder of breakfast / lunch, an owl swooped into the dining room with a scroll. "It's from Tanya," exclaimed Ginny, recognising the trademark purple crepe ribbon holding the scroll closed. She opened it and read it out loud. "Dear Ginny, Terribly sorry but I am not able to make it to your house this summer as I have broken my leg, and the doctor says I must stay at home. What a drag! Hope this doesn't cause any problems for you. Tanya."
Ron looked away from the window where he had been staring at a glorious summer day. "Owl Hermione and tell her to come over now," was his only comment.
* * * * * * *
Hermione arrived late that evening, well after dinner. Harry watched her cheerily wave goodbye to her parents as they drove off in their well-used BMW. He had time to greet her with "How are…" before Ron grasped their arms and yanked them none too gently to his bedroom, where he slammed the door with a thud that shook the frame. He was tense and succinct. Pointing to the bed, he barked, "Sit!" Then, looking at Harry, "Explain."
Harry was mystified. "Explain what?"
Ron pursed his lips. "Malfoy."
Hermione's eyes were flicking from one to the other as though she was watching a Swivenhodge match. It was quite clear that she thought the two of them equally mad. But as Harry extracted Malfoy's letter from his bag, and handed it to her, her brow furrowed in worry. After reading the letter twice, she looked up again.
"What did you say?"
Harry said, without any particular weighting of words, "I haven't replied yet. Ron didn't want me to do anything, as he thinks this might all be a trap. Yet, somehow, I think it would be the right thing to do if I went."
Hermione flared up. "Of course it would be the right thing to do! I mean, you saved Wormtail, didn't you Harry? This is the same thing!"
Ron interrupted with, "Well, not exactly, Hermione. See, if Harry left him, it wouldn't be like allowing Sirius and Lupin to kill him. This is Voldemort we're talking about! It'll be no black mark on his conscience, I can tell you that! And Malfoy. If anyone deserves to die, it's him. He was happy when Cedric died. Why can't any of you seem to remember?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but it was Harry who answered. "Because we're the good guys, Ron. If I allow him to be killed when perhaps I could have saved him, it would be as if I killed him myself. Sirius feels that guilt over my parents, no matter how many times I tell him he couldn't have known what was going to happen. Alright, so this may be a trap. But I don't think so, and I can tell that Hermione doesn't either." Hermione nodded in silent assent. "So, if Malfoy dies, won't it be my fault?"
Ron gazed resignedly at both of their set faces and stubborn, determined chins. He sighed heavily. "Well, Harry, it's your choice of course. And you too, Hermione. But there's no way in the seven levels of Hell that you'll make me go with you." With that, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door.
Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek as he sagged, defeated, onto the coverlet of Ron's bed. "I'll be with you. It should be enough. All we have to do is get Malfoy and get out of there, right? No reason to go looking for Voldemort, especially when he's returning to power. Nothing we can do on our own, right?" She was half making a statement and half wanting reassurance.
Harry nodded wearily. "Right. We'll go as soon as we can."
Hermione said, "Shall I go say hello to Ginny, then? I'll leave you and Ron to sort things out between you." With that, she left, allowing the door to hang ajar. Harry got to his feet to close it when Ron reentered the room, abashed.
"Harry," he began, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad, it's just that… I really hate Malfoy! And I can't stand the thought of you out there in for Forbidden Forest, risking life and limb to rescue a guy who'll turn around and stab you in the back first chance he gets!"
"Ron," Harry interrupted, anticipating one of Ron's heartfelt apologies, "You can come with us, it you want."
Ron's face hardened. "I just came to say I'm sorry. I'm still not going."
Harry sighed. "In that case, if we don't come back, you can comfort yourself with the fact that you were probably right, and that Hermione and I died because you weren't there to watch our backs. And don't forget to tell people what happened, will you? I'm sure Rita Skeeter would love a legitimate interview with The-Boy-Who-Lived-Who-Finally-Died's best friend. You can tell her everything, okay? I promise I won't mind if you inform her about the fact that my first pair of pajamas was pink and covered with bunnies. At that point I'll be past caring."
Ron went white. "Harry… I'm sure nothing will… happen…"
"One can't be too sure. I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight, Ron."
It was harsh, he knew. His mind was reeling. How was Ron taking it? Perhaps, if it was Wormtail who so desperately needed rescuing, would Harry be inclined to save him? Not likely. But then again, Malfoy hadn't killed anyone's parents…
-End Chapter Two-
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's read this far. It's coming quite slowly... I seem to be afflicted with a permanent case of writer's block, and haven't written anything for a long time. Chapter Three coming as quickly as is humanly possible (for me)! Keep rocking!!
Disclaimer: Tanya can be taken by anyone at all... she's just a name! Her "trademark purple crepe ribbon" was pulled from the recesses of my imagination and I'm feeling rather possessive of it. "Splat" is a made up game. Everything else belongs to JK Rowling (All hail the Goddess!!)
--Sera