"And if God choose, I shall but love thee better, after death."
-BROWNING-

"This is ridiculous," Ron muttered. "You mean to tell us he was right under our noses the entire time?"
"Not exactly, Ron," Dumbledore murmured. "It has only been for the past week or so that he has taken refuge in the Forbidden Forest."
"Well, you'd think Hagrid or someone would have noticed, right?"
Dumbledore squinted at Ron over his spectacles. "Dark Magic is a very powerful thing, Ron. Concealng it is one of the fundamental tasks of a Dark witch or wizard. They don't' want anyone to know what they have been doing."
Ron fell silent, and looked out the window of Dumbeldore's office, from which one could see the entire Hogwarts Grounds- including the forbidden forest.
"So, what now?" asked Harry. What he would have really liked to do was leap on his broomstick, fly down to the Forest, and finally slay the man who had been the cause of all his misery since he was a year old. He hated Voldemort with a passion unmatched by anyone in Britain. All his life, he realized, he wanted revenge. And now, it seemed, he was finally going to get it. It made his heart pound. He quickly stuck his sweating hands in his pockets and tried to look normal. Dumbledore had been giving him that X-Ray stare of his ever since he'd broke the news that Voldemort and a hundred thousand followers had made a hideout underneath the tangled roots of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. To Harry's mind, the fact that Voldemort was invading his school- the place where he had so very many memories and finally found himself- the fact that the creature that called himself Voldemort was hiding there was yet another reason to kill him. Hogwarts was Harry's home- the last time Voldemort had invaded Harry's home, he'd murdered his parents…
"Well, Harry, what we do now," said Dumbeldore, still regarding Harry carefully, "Is wait. We'll gather our forces right here at Hogwarts- discreetly- Voldemort mustn't know that we know where he is. We will contact every Auror in Britain by Owl, arranging a time and place for a Portkey, with which they transport themselves here gradually."
"Every Auror in Britain?" Ron repeated. "Don't you think that's a bit drastic?"
There was a heavy pause. Eventually Dumbeldore let out a long sigh. "No, Ron, I do not. I fear the thing we have tried to avoid for so long will finally come to pass. This war has been a long time coming…"
At this Ron turned and gave the wall a sharp pound with his fist. "Shit!" Hermione immediately crossed to his side and began to whisper soothingly in his ear, as Ron turned, put his face in his hands, and gave a long despairing moan. Ron had wanted to avoid a full on battle with the Dark Forces at all costs. So had Hermione- in fact, so had everyone. Except Alastor Moody, perhaps. And of course, Harry himself. Despite knowing all along that war was the only way he would be able to avenge his parents, Harry had gone along with everything that Dumbledore had said to do to avoid war- in his heart of hearts, he knew that a battle with the Dark Forces would be terrifying and cause the loss of many lives- but all the while, he'd been dreaming of revenge. Perhaps, he thought, trying to keep his breathing steady as Dumbledore shot him yet another piercing look perhaps, he thought, as his heart jumped- perhaps now, it'll happen.

*

"Are you…all right?"

Percy squirmed in the velvet-covered chair. He'd never felt less all right in his entire life. "Yes- yes of course."

"I am sorry that I had to be the one to break the news to you," Fartham said, trying to sound gentle but really just sounding uncomfortable. "Would you like to send an owl off to your parents or should the Ministry do it?"

"You can- the Ministry, please." Percy said softly. There wouldn't be any point to him writing a letter home- what was he supposed to do, confirm what they'd already known was going to happen? Confirm what Percy had known as soon as he'd heard about What Happened In The Forbidden Forest? No. Better to have an official letter, to have it in the records.

Ron Weasley: Dead. His mum would keep it in that little box on top of her cupboard where she kept all those other things of sentimental value- her engagement ring, Charlie's first wand which Ron had ended up breaking, the two notices that had been in The Daily Prohpet, announcing that Williams Weasley of Ottery St Catchpole was the only student in his graduating class to have received twelve O.W.L.s, and then again, a similar notice that had been in the paper when he, Percy, had been awarded twelve OWLs. And in that little box among her little treasures would nestle that horrible letter, the same one they sent out everytime someone died in the face of Voldmeort, the same letter he himself had had to send out hundreds upon hundreds of times as Ministry workers were murdered, and murdered, and murdered. Dear Mrs. Weasley, We regret to inform you that…

She already had one in there, kept from when Bill had been killed after coming face to face with the prominent Death Eater Lucious Malfoy. Bill and Ron. Could she take it? Percy wondered. Will Mum be able to stand this?

Will I be able to stand this?

Percy thought for a moment and tried to remember the exact last thing he'd said to Ron. Then he remembered and realsied he didn't want to remember.

That was it.

"Oh…dear…" Percy heard Opius Fartham say as he buried his face in his hands and burst into tears. RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON…

"Ron," Percy heard himself sob. Crying? The last time he'd cried…was when Bill died. But at least he'd said a kind word to Bill. At least. "Ron!"

"Mr. Weasley- do calm down…" Fartham begged.

Calm down? Calm down?! "My brother is dead!" Percy yelled, completely aware of how ridiculous the situation was- how he, Percy Weasley, was yelling tearfully at the Minister of Magic- but dear god, did it matter?

"Percy- Percy-" Fartham was sputtering. But no matter how many times Fartham said his name, Percy could not calm down. He was finding it hard to breathe. There was something rising up his throat. He was about to throw up.

Something had snapped inside him like it had never done so before. Something had been roaring, screaming, trapped inside him for so long and it had taken Ron dying to let it out. Percy had never wanted to fight with Ron- he loved Ron. Ron was his brother.

"Why didn't I love him this much before he died?" Percy sobbed. 'Why do I have to love him now?"

"Look!" Opius Fartham said, thoroughly put out by the situation, by the sound of it. "Is there…someone I can get you to talk to? Someone who can help?" He suddenly seized Percy's arm. "Harry Potter? You're familiar with Harry Potter?"

Percy nodded, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his robes, and feeling bizarrely like he was five years old. "Would you like to talk to him?" Fartham said. Percy nodded again without thinking. "He just left- just five minutes ago."

That was all Percy need to hear. He leapt out of the velvet covered chair, slammed through the oak odor of the office, and bolted, bolted out of the Ministry and into magus alley- oh god there were so many people- he dodged, left right, left right, Ron, Ron, Ron- Jesus Christ what was dad going to say? Is that Harry- no, that wasn't him- through the gate into Diagon Alley- oh no, they were still celebrating, "Stop it! Stop!" Percy yelled to the deaf ears of the party-goers- and then- oh dear Jesus there he was, hunched over like a shadow in the midst of a group of colourful flowers. "Harry!" Percy screamed- oh my god, was that his voice? Since when had he been so ragged?- "Harry!" And Harry turned. With a howl, Percy vaulted himself at Harry and threw his arms around the startled boy. "He's dead," was all Percy could say as dry sobs wracked his throat. "He's dead, he's dead and I never got to tell him I love him."

"Percy…" Harry said in his ear. And that seemed to be all that could come out of his throat. For a little while- it could have been five minutes, it could have been half an hour- Percy cried into Harry Potter's shoulder. It was an activity he had not experience for quite some time. When had he stopped crying? When he joined the Ministry? It was, in a strange was, so reassuring to feel wetness on his cheeks- he hadn't even cried this much when Bill died, and never into anyone's shoulder. Especially not Harry Potter. Ron's best friend. So bizarre was the experience that Percy half-expected when he drew away, to see his Mum standing there instead of Harry, his Mum, all warm and perfumey and crooning There, there, Percy dear. It'll all be all right, Percy. Ron will be okay, Percy.

But it wasn't his mum, it was Harry. The shock of seeing him startled Percy, and his tears dried away. It brought him back to reality. "Harry- you look-"

"Are you all right?" But his voice was so dull and flat? Where was the Harry he used to know?

"I'm okay- just- shocked, I suppose."

Harry paused and nodded. Then a little while passed in which neither of them said anything. Percy stared at his feet, feelings the beginnings of shame. Here he was an adult of twenty-four years old, and…

RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON!

God, what was he thinking? Ron was his brother for GOD'S SAKE! It was all right to cry. Moretears leake onto his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured. 'Percy…I'm sorry/. This is all my fault."

"Don't be stupid."

"No, it is. I could have…stopped him. He went running after…I could have stopped him."

"I know you," Percy sniffled, and he actually amanged a small smile. "You were probably defending him to the end."

Harry shook his head. His voice was barely above a whisper. "But I got him there in the first place. I suggested he become an Auror. It's my fault. And I should have stopped him. After he put Hermione down, I should have stopped him."

Percy wasn't sure what he was talking about, but in any case, he didn't want to think about Ron being an Auror. Because that was what had started all the arguing. That was why the last thing he ever said to Ron was…

"Your mum," Harry said. (He might as well have said "our mum"). "Does she..?"

Percy shook his head. "Not…yet. I think she's probably guessed." He paused, thinking about that for a moment. 'I did." But she'd be hoping. Mum would be hoping that…news would come. "Ron's in the hospital. He's injured but he's okay." As if that weren't bad enough, but to be dead…

"I'm sorry," Harry said again, so softly. As though he were afraid his voice would break something. It did, anyway. As more tears flowed down his face, Percy managed to get some words out.

"No, I am," Percy blurted out. "I argued with Ron…told him not to do it. He never told you?" Numbly, Harry shook his head. Percy nodded, and breathed heavily through his nose. "We haven't spoken since he became an Auror. Last thing I ever told him was that…" And Percy found he couldn't say it. Not to Harry. Not to Ron's best friend. "I was so stupid," Percy choked out, "I wish I could at least have said sorry. And I am sorry…everyone was always picking on Ron, and I could have stopped it if I wanted to, you know. I could have told Fred and George to leave him alone. I could have been a better brother. But I wasn't. Harry, I wasn't, and now he's dead." (There it was again. Ron Weasley- dead.) His voice had been getting steadily more ragged while he poured this out, and now his voice cracked, and he gave a sort of strangled shriek. RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON RON….

"Oh…" Percy sniffled, looking at his watch, "I have to go, I have to get back to the Ministry. Just wanted to catch you before you go." He looked into Harry's face. "You'll be all right?"

"Yes," Harry said automatically, knowing there was no real sincerity in the statement. Percy nodded and brushed Harry's shoulder with his hand. "Look, you'll have to go talk to mum. Once the Ministry tells her. She'll want to know what happened. Exactly how it happened."

"Don't you?" Harry asked.

Percy hesitated. "Not yet," he said softly. He turned to go, but then Harry stopped him.

"Percy-" he said, and Percy turned back, questioning. Harry paused. "The survivors…of my team…where are they? Do you know?"

Percy hesitated, then nodded. "The hospital, Harry. St Mungo's." Harry nodded, and suddenly, awkwardly, reached out and touched Percy's hand. Percy felt tears come again as he watched Harry disappear into the mass of festivities.

"I don't want to know you, any more, Ron. Don't you know? The Aurors will fall. You'll all come crawling back to the Ministry. How can you voluntarily side with them? I don't want to know you."

What a thing to say to one's own brother.