Chapter Four:
Scars
August, 1998
"Hold him, Hagrid!" the man barked. "Hold him!
"Wands out, lads!"
"No!" Hagrid gritted, the tendons on his thick neck straining under his shaggy beard. "I got 'im! Jus' -- le' me -- "
With a great heave of his massive shoulders, Hagrid dropped the loop of the heavy chain over a squat stone pillar set deep in the rocky ground. A wizard at his side quickly thrust an iron bar through a hole, and as Hagrid released the chain it snapped taut, straining against the crossbar in vain.
A terrible scream rent the air as the dragon at the other end of the chain raged, flailing its tail and sending smoke and flame from its nostrils.
"Tha's that!" Hagrid heaved a weary sigh, mopping his brow with a handkerchief the size of a wizard's cloak.
Few things there were that could test the full mettle of the burly half-giant, but a mother dragon protecting her clutch of eggs was one of them.
As he sat down on a huge boulder, watching the wizards weighing and measuring the eggs, the foreman who had been supervising from above glided down on his broomstick and lighted at his side.
"Hi 'yeh, Erik," Hagrid smiled. "End 'a yer shift?"
Erik nodded, shouldering his broom.
Hagrid had formed a fast friendship with Erik Sigurdson, a wizard from Norway. Erik it was who had been given charge of Norbert, Hagrid's beloved baby dragon, more than six years ago. Erik had given Hagrid some moving photos of the now fully grown Norwegian Ridgeback, which was now back in the fjords of its native Norway. Hagrid had fallen into tears upon receiving the photos, and he treasured them as he did few things in his simple life.
"Fancy a tankard 'a mead, Erik?" Hagrid offered, pocketing his massive handkerchief. "I know I coul' do wi' one meself, an' tha's the truth."
"Thanks, Hagrid," Erik smiled politely, "but I'm off to the infirmary."
"Are yeh hurt?" Hagrid asked with genuine concern. He saw no mark on the blond wizard.
Erik shook his head.
"Ron."
"Ron?" Hagrid's face paled.
"Charlie's there now. I'm Apparating over as soon as I check out. You didn't know -- here, take my broomstick -- "
Erik, like all the others, knew that Hagrid was not a proper wizard and could not Apparate.
Hagrid looked despairingly at the tiny twig in Erik's hand.
"Yeh woul'nt happen teh have a portkey, would yeh?"
"I'll enchant one for you straight off," Erik said.
Hagrid nodded his thanks.
*
Ron lay motionless in the hospital wing of a large wizard castle perched atop a high mountain in the Translyvanian Alps.
An old witch was busy dipping bandages in a simmering potion and wrapping them around his torso. His hands and arms were already bound. She grimaced as she beheld the terrible burns on the young man's upper body. She dressed his wounds with the gentleness of long practice, but even so she heard him mutter and moan at her touch through the depths of his magically-induced sleep.
A wizard was standing nearby, his red hair and freckles a mature reflection of the injured man.
"Will he be alright?" he asked the old witch worriedly.
"I think so," she said. "But it's very bad. Between the potions and the healing spells, he should recover in time. But some of the scarring goes very deep. Despite our best efforts, some traces will remain."
"What was he thinking?" Charlie muttered. "Taking on a bull Horntail during mating season! It's -- it's suicidal!"
"Yer right, Charlie," came a gruff voice from behind him. "I reckin tha's jus' what it is."
Charlie turned to stare at his old friend, Hagrid. In a way, Charlie towed his career to the Hogwarts Gamekeeper (now Teacher of Care of Magical Creatures), whose love of all sorts of unusual beasts had rubbed off on a young schoolboy not so many years ago.
"I'm sorry?" was all he could say, not sure he had heard right.
Hagrid led Charlie to a corner of the infirmary, then looked down from his great height at the now apprehensive wizard.
"I'd hoped I was wrong," Hagrid said gravely, "but there's no denyin' it. Fer a long time now, Ron's been vol'nteerin' fer the mos' dang'rous assignments. Ac's like 'e don' care if 'e lives er dies. Jus' laughs it off.
"They've 'ung a name on 'im -- call 'im 'Death-Wish Weasley', the man what don' fear nuthin'!"
Charlie gaped. He looked across the room at his youngest brother, who lay serene in his enchanted sleep as the healer finished dressing his wounds.
"He works hard," Charlie said, as if to the air. "Can hardly keep up with him. Not like the old Ron at all. Told him I was proud of him."
He turned toward Hagrid, panic in his eyes.
"Madam Took asked me if he needed a holiday. Told her he just got back from England -- Harry's wedding, you know -- Best Man -- well, you were there, Hagrid -- we all were -- "
But Hagrid was no longer listening. A strange, sad look had come into his eyes. He placed a large hand on Charlie's shoulder.
"Le's go outside, Charlie," Hagrid said in a heavy voice. "I got summat t' tell yeh..."
To Be Continued...
*~*
A/N: Thanks to my two loyal (I hope) reviewers, Augurey and Athena McGonagall. Just a reminder that this story, which is already completed, comprises 16 chapters, so the fun (and the angst) has only just begun.
And Athena -- you were right to feel that Romania held ominous things for Ron. But don't worry, Ron fans; things are looking up for your favorite red-head. Of course, Harry's troubles are just beginning! But then, since the story began at Harry's gravesite, we knew he was in for a bit of a rough go, didn't we? Well, if you're going to make an omelette...
Look for Chapter 5 soon (right, Fae?)
*Fae, nodding* Toodles! (And for goodness sakes....Review)
Scars
August, 1998
"Hold him, Hagrid!" the man barked. "Hold him!
"Wands out, lads!"
"No!" Hagrid gritted, the tendons on his thick neck straining under his shaggy beard. "I got 'im! Jus' -- le' me -- "
With a great heave of his massive shoulders, Hagrid dropped the loop of the heavy chain over a squat stone pillar set deep in the rocky ground. A wizard at his side quickly thrust an iron bar through a hole, and as Hagrid released the chain it snapped taut, straining against the crossbar in vain.
A terrible scream rent the air as the dragon at the other end of the chain raged, flailing its tail and sending smoke and flame from its nostrils.
"Tha's that!" Hagrid heaved a weary sigh, mopping his brow with a handkerchief the size of a wizard's cloak.
Few things there were that could test the full mettle of the burly half-giant, but a mother dragon protecting her clutch of eggs was one of them.
As he sat down on a huge boulder, watching the wizards weighing and measuring the eggs, the foreman who had been supervising from above glided down on his broomstick and lighted at his side.
"Hi 'yeh, Erik," Hagrid smiled. "End 'a yer shift?"
Erik nodded, shouldering his broom.
Hagrid had formed a fast friendship with Erik Sigurdson, a wizard from Norway. Erik it was who had been given charge of Norbert, Hagrid's beloved baby dragon, more than six years ago. Erik had given Hagrid some moving photos of the now fully grown Norwegian Ridgeback, which was now back in the fjords of its native Norway. Hagrid had fallen into tears upon receiving the photos, and he treasured them as he did few things in his simple life.
"Fancy a tankard 'a mead, Erik?" Hagrid offered, pocketing his massive handkerchief. "I know I coul' do wi' one meself, an' tha's the truth."
"Thanks, Hagrid," Erik smiled politely, "but I'm off to the infirmary."
"Are yeh hurt?" Hagrid asked with genuine concern. He saw no mark on the blond wizard.
Erik shook his head.
"Ron."
"Ron?" Hagrid's face paled.
"Charlie's there now. I'm Apparating over as soon as I check out. You didn't know -- here, take my broomstick -- "
Erik, like all the others, knew that Hagrid was not a proper wizard and could not Apparate.
Hagrid looked despairingly at the tiny twig in Erik's hand.
"Yeh woul'nt happen teh have a portkey, would yeh?"
"I'll enchant one for you straight off," Erik said.
Hagrid nodded his thanks.
Ron lay motionless in the hospital wing of a large wizard castle perched atop a high mountain in the Translyvanian Alps.
An old witch was busy dipping bandages in a simmering potion and wrapping them around his torso. His hands and arms were already bound. She grimaced as she beheld the terrible burns on the young man's upper body. She dressed his wounds with the gentleness of long practice, but even so she heard him mutter and moan at her touch through the depths of his magically-induced sleep.
A wizard was standing nearby, his red hair and freckles a mature reflection of the injured man.
"Will he be alright?" he asked the old witch worriedly.
"I think so," she said. "But it's very bad. Between the potions and the healing spells, he should recover in time. But some of the scarring goes very deep. Despite our best efforts, some traces will remain."
"What was he thinking?" Charlie muttered. "Taking on a bull Horntail during mating season! It's -- it's suicidal!"
"Yer right, Charlie," came a gruff voice from behind him. "I reckin tha's jus' what it is."
Charlie turned to stare at his old friend, Hagrid. In a way, Charlie towed his career to the Hogwarts Gamekeeper (now Teacher of Care of Magical Creatures), whose love of all sorts of unusual beasts had rubbed off on a young schoolboy not so many years ago.
"I'm sorry?" was all he could say, not sure he had heard right.
Hagrid led Charlie to a corner of the infirmary, then looked down from his great height at the now apprehensive wizard.
"I'd hoped I was wrong," Hagrid said gravely, "but there's no denyin' it. Fer a long time now, Ron's been vol'nteerin' fer the mos' dang'rous assignments. Ac's like 'e don' care if 'e lives er dies. Jus' laughs it off.
"They've 'ung a name on 'im -- call 'im 'Death-Wish Weasley', the man what don' fear nuthin'!"
Charlie gaped. He looked across the room at his youngest brother, who lay serene in his enchanted sleep as the healer finished dressing his wounds.
"He works hard," Charlie said, as if to the air. "Can hardly keep up with him. Not like the old Ron at all. Told him I was proud of him."
He turned toward Hagrid, panic in his eyes.
"Madam Took asked me if he needed a holiday. Told her he just got back from England -- Harry's wedding, you know -- Best Man -- well, you were there, Hagrid -- we all were -- "
But Hagrid was no longer listening. A strange, sad look had come into his eyes. He placed a large hand on Charlie's shoulder.
"Le's go outside, Charlie," Hagrid said in a heavy voice. "I got summat t' tell yeh..."
To Be Continued...
A/N: Thanks to my two loyal (I hope) reviewers, Augurey and Athena McGonagall. Just a reminder that this story, which is already completed, comprises 16 chapters, so the fun (and the angst) has only just begun.
And Athena -- you were right to feel that Romania held ominous things for Ron. But don't worry, Ron fans; things are looking up for your favorite red-head. Of course, Harry's troubles are just beginning! But then, since the story began at Harry's gravesite, we knew he was in for a bit of a rough go, didn't we? Well, if you're going to make an omelette...
Look for Chapter 5 soon (right, Fae?)
*Fae, nodding* Toodles! (And for goodness sakes....Review)