~*Midsummer's Night*~
Chapter 4: Crimson in the Moonlight
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley
Rating: R
Memorandum: HELL WEEK IS OVER!!! I can now sleep again! And update!! *claps* also, I am going to go get my fingers x-rayed, because I think it is more than a sprain. So again, if there are spelling errors, I am terribly sorry. Oh yes....guess who now has 2 foot long WEASLEY RED HAIR!? *points at self* Hah hah hah....check out one of my friends journals and they will probably have pictures up. I just got back from Washington DC....oh I am tired...I'll just type this instead of doing my English homework. Its all good. BTW, did I mention this is a VERY long chapter? I'm not kidding...
P.S. Lets make it simple and just say that I dont own any Hp characters. ***********************************************************************
~*Crimson in the Moonlight*~
Ron awoke quickly, slapping his alarm clock off so no one else would hear it. It was now midnight. He still had the picture held to his chest, and Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
Slowly, he got up and placed the picture next to the other one on his night stand, then walked over to his closet. He pulled on faded jeans and a red plaid shirt, folded Harry's letter neatly into squares, and placed it in the pocket over his heart. He turned to sneak out his door, then hastily decided to bring his wand. He pocketed it carefully, his mind set and his face determind. He was ready.
Noislessly, he crept down the hallway and poked his head through Percy's door. He was asleep, sprawled lazily across his bed in his clothes, drooling on top of a ministry book and snoring loudly. Ron grinned. Not quite Mr. Perfect right now, was he? Ron's head disappeared from the doorway, and traveled down the crooked stairway.
He was making good progress, he had already made it to the car, and no one had either heard or noticed. Carefully, he sat in the drivers seat and closed the door with such care it made only a small click as it shut. His hands trembled with anticipation as he turned the key in the ignition. The car started with a loud sputter and roar from the engine, causing Ron to grit his teeth nervously. He immediately turned on the invisibility mechinism and sped off, afraid that if he sat in the driveway any longer that his family would wake up and see him.
The car tilted and swerved, gaining altitude as it rose up into the stormy night sky. Ron fumbled clumsily with shaking hands on the wheel, turning on the windshield wipers. The rain was still coming down hard and he had to squint to see through the sheets of water gushing over the windows.
The sky was suddenly illuminated by a bright crack of lightning, small gossamers spawning off of it, weaving their way through the sky. Ron gulped what felt like his heart back down his throat and tightened his hands on the wheel. He was driving a tin tuna boat through the air in the middle of a lightning storm... not the brightest idea in the world...
"Blimey, I must be nutters doing this...Don't want to end up a crispy critter before I get to Harry's..." He eyed the sky warily. He knew even though he had said that, he would have gone to Harry's aid anyway. Storm or no storm, nothing would stop him, nothing would waiver his determination. He WOULD reach Harry.
The storm raged on through the night as Ron soon neared his destination. As he got closer, his apprehension increased, and it was almost impossible to keep his mind from torturing him with the many terrible things that could have happened to Harry.
"Please, Harry..." Ron prayed silently over and over again. He had begun to wring his hands, cold and clammy with sweat, over the steering wheel methodically, and his heart began to beat furiously against his ribcage as he spotted Harry's house in the near distance.
Soon enough he was hovering right over the house; there appeared to be no cars in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, Ron descended quietly, touching down infront of the house, silently shutting off the engine. The car materialized out of thin air as Ron stepped out onto the pavement and gazed up at the darkened windows of the house. He glanced around briefly to see if anyone wa swatching before he stepped up to the door.
"Alohomora," he whispered, and the door magically clicked open. Ron had gone very pale with fear as he stepped through the threshold into the dark house, terrified of what he might find. Shakily, he took a few steps forward and bumped headlong into something, letting out a small frightened squeak, then cupped his hands over his mouth.
"Calm down you moron..." he whispered to himself, "It would probably be good if I could see where I was going..."
He bluntly whipped out his wand and muttered a spell, causing the tip of it to light up. He pointed the beam of light upward, and saw that he had bumped into the kitchen door left ajar. He then moved his wand down to light a pathway for his feet as he decided to move down the hallway toward the staircase.
There was a trail of something shining. It appeared to be broken mirror fragments. He followed these to the bottom of the staircase, where he stopped abruptly, staring transfixed at the carpet.
Glass and stains littered the last few stairs, the most at the bottom. Red stains. It was blood. Ron clutched his wand tightly...he wouldn't panic...he wouldn't...
As he tilted his wand upward, the beam illuminated a pathway up the stairs. There was a line of blood trailing up the stairs as if a body had been dragged up them.
Summoning all of his courage, Ron followed, even though he didn't know if he wanted to see where it lead. He tread tentatively over the last step, glancing occasionally at the wall, where there were sporadic spatters of blood as if someone had crashed into it at places. Ron strained his eyes back along the beam of light across the floor. Yes, the trail led down the hall, and causing Ron to tense up, into Harry's room.
"Dear God..." he muttered, his heart suddenly beating wildly. Before he realized what he was doing, his feet had begun to race toward the door without his order.
"Harry...HARRY!!" For some reason, he lost all control and began beating furiously on the door with his fists, screaming desperately for his best friend.
"HARRY...!!!" He pulled out his wand, shaking madly, and cast a spell as he pointed it at the lock. The door was still stuck as he tried to open it, but overcome with emotion, he tore it open in a frenzy, and stumbled into the room. The sight that met his eyes seemed to have wretched his heart in half.
Harry was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own dried blood, which was also caked into his hair and dried all over his clothes. The left lense of his glasses was completely shattered, the frames bent. His back was open and raw, which must have bled quite heavily, and there were shards of glass and splinters of wood embedded there in his wounded flesh. He had undoubtedly lost conciousness.
Ron dropped to his knees beside Harry, his mind numb, staring with shock. "Harry..." he whispered, straining his constricted throat. He lay a shaking hand upon his friend's disheveled hair. He felt very cold. Ron closed his eyes and tried to push his worst fear from his mind. He wasn't dead...he couldn't be...
Still closing his eyes, he prayed silently to God, and lay his shaking hand against Harry's throat. He felt a pulse. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and thanked his lucky stars Harry was still alive.
"U...ung..."
Ron turned his gaze downward, startled by the soft moan that sounded from below him. Harry's eyes had fluttered open and he half-stared around with a dazed expression. Ron choked up as Harry's eyes landed on him.
"R...Ron...?" he whispered in a distant voice.
Ron smiled down gently at him. "Yeah..It's me Harry, it's ok now..." he whispered back, stroking Harry's hand that he had a hold of, "It's ok...we're getting you out of here, I'm going to get help for you..." Here his expression sharpened alittle and he whispered more menacinly to the floor rather than Harry, "Whoever did this to you is going to pay."
There was a sudden noise of a door swinging open, and then shutting noisily from downstairs. Ron sat frozen on the floor next to Harry. Somebody else had come into the house. Then he remembered that his car was in the driveway, clearly visible to anyone that walked by, which meant whoever had entered the house also knew that he was there.
Ron's immediate thought went back to Harry, who had slipped silently back into the blackened depths of unconciousness. He wouldn't allow anything more to happen to him. He had to protect him, and get him the hell out of here, and fast. He rose slowly from his sitting position, edged shakily towards the slightly open door, and peered out. A large shadow drifted down the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, disappearing through a doorway. Ron gulped down the huge lump in his throat and slid out the door to the top of the stairs. The front door was still slightly open. If he could just move quickly enough...if he could just levitate Harry down the steps and out into the car, everything might just be ok. Ron took a deep breath, about to step back into Harry's room when--
"GAAAH!!" Ron screamed involuntarily as he collided with a large shadow that had stepped briskly out of the darkness into the doorway. Ron's eyes grew large as the shadow pointed something right at his face, and he heard a metallic click.
"Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?"
Ron's mouth hung open, speechless. He stared as a glint of light shone brightly on the thing that was being pointed an inch or so away from his face, and imediately recognized it as, as Harry had told him once, 'Something muggles used to kill each other.' A gun.
"I-I was just..." Ron stuttered, taking a step backward, the shadow looming ominously above him, "I came to help Harry and--"
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" The loud voice boomed suddenly.
Instinctively, Ron dove along the wall to get out of the way. There was a deafening blast that rang through the house, and Ron was suddenly too aware of a piercing sensation, and he clutched his arm in pain, slumping against the wall. He felt hot blood seep through his shirt and fingers from where the impact was taken and he groaned in pain. He hadn't been quick enough, but at least he had the instinction to dive out of the way or that would have been his head.
From where he had crumpled to the floor, Ron turned his gaze upward to where the shadow had stepped out into a beam of moonlight, revealing the silhouette of a very large man, his face constricted in anger. He noticed the shirt underneath his jacket had a blood stain on the front. At first Ron figured it must have been his, from his gunshot wound. But it hadn't sprayed that far, had it? And wouldn't it have gotten on his outer jacket rather than on the inside? The gears in Ron's head began to click into place when the fact hit him that the blood wasn't recent... the color told it had been at least twelve hours...
The man turned and walked toward Harry's room. He must had figured he had killed Ron, because Ron wasn't making any sound nor movement, and he was concealed in shadow. Ron realized he musn't have seen when he dived out of the way, and thought he had hit his target dead on.
The man pulled open the door, growling menacingly. "Calling outsiders for help are you? I've had enough of this, you bloody brat!! I might as well just finish what I've started!"
Ron's head snapped up, alert as the harsh reality of those last few words sunk home in his mind. He heard the metallic click again. This was the man that had hurt Harry before...and he was going to do it again. This time for good.
A spark had suddenly seemed to ignite a fire in Ron's mind, for it could certainly be seen in the look in his eyes.
'How dare he...How dare this man...'
Turning a blind eye to the excruciating pain, Ron lurched up from th ground. "How dare you...YOU BASTARD!!" he screamed.
Vernon let out a startled cry as his wrist was caught in a firm grasp and he was flung backwards out into the hallway, the suprised gun firing a bullet throug the ceiling. Before Vernon could stand up, Ron made a fist and bashed it into his face with all the strength he could muster. He had never been so angry in all his life, for all he could see right now was red.
Uncle Vernon rolled backwards to the top of the stairs, clutching his bleeding nose in agony. He stood up quite quickly for such a fat man, and stood, facing Ron, breathing heavily. "Too bad, you little faggot, you loose!" he growled, pointing the gun at Ron with one swift movement. His fat face grew into a horrible sneer, and he pulled the trigger.
All that it produced was a dull click.
Vernon's face suddenly went white with horror, and he shot his gaze back up at Ron. Ron was glaring at him with an bemused expression Vernon could not read.
"No, sorry...YOU loose." With a maniacal glint in his eye that would have terrified all of the U.S. Marine Corps. into submission, Ron whipped his wand out of his pocket and held it elegantly infront of him with the distinct air of animosity. Now the fire in his eyes seemed to be blazing brighter than his firey red hair.
"How dare you..." he ground out menacingly through clenched teeth, "HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY HARRY!! YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!"
Oblivious to the white hot paint that was overtaking his arm, he whipped his wand at Uncle Vernon with such vehemence, and screamed a spell at the top of his lungs in a voice that didn't even seem his own. A blast exploded from the tip of his wand with such passion that the house itself seemed to shudder in its frame. The sheer blast of energy screamed through the air with an emmense force until it met dead center with its target.
Uncle Vernon's shrill scream was cutt off, the blast colliding with his stomach. He was sent sailing down the stairs and clear through the wall at an incredible speed where the mirror had hung, and then lay silent in the pile of rubble in the next room. Chunks of loose wall fell from the new gaping hole and crashed onto the floor, interrupting the eerie silence.
Ron stood, astonished by what he had just done, shaking spasmodically as the rage filtered from his system and sense was restored in his brain. He didn't care that he broke the wall, or that he had probably broken hundreds of bones in Vernon's body. He didn't even care that he had just broken a critical rule about not using magic outside of Hogwarts, and with a very serious spell at that...if it meant saving Harry, he didn't care what he had to do. If he was kicked out of Hogwarts, so what...Harry was so much more important.
"Harry..." Gripping his wand tightly in his good arm, he ran back through the door to his friend's side. He knealt beside him, running his hand over his tangled black hair.
"We're leaving this place now. It's all going to be ok...hang on, Harry, please hang on..." He held Harry's hand soothingly, even though he knew the boy could not hear what he was saying.
"Mobilicorpus" he said gently, and levitated Harry's body from the floor, making sure not to cause him further pain or injury.
As he was about to pass through the door, Ron spotted a picture inside a neat little frame lying carelessly on the floor. He pcked it up gingerly, noticing it was the same picture he had on his nightstand back at the Burrow, only this one now sported a small crack that ran across the protective glass. Smiling gently, Ron replaced it on Harry's nightstand.
*****
The ride home was silent except for the splashing of raindrops against the windshield, and the occasional roll of thunder in the distance. Harry was in the back seat on top of a ton of soft blankets that Ron had placed there to prevent further injury. He hadn't had much trouble getting Harry into the car back at Privet Drive; he was quite easy to levitate.
Every few minutes Ron would impulsively glance back at Harry's still form in the rear view mirror, then tear his eyes away, straining to keep his train of thought on steering the car and getting safely back to the Burrow.
To make it easier on himself, he would pretend Harry was just asleep in the back seat to ease his restless mind. But it only worked to an extent, for whenever the clouds parted, the car was filled with a pale glow of moonlight, and whenever Ron happened to glance back then and see the cuts and bruises on Harry's pale skin, he was painfully reminded of his morbid purpose, and he tightened his grip ont he steering wheel.
"You'll be fine, Harry..." Ron mumbled absentmindedly, staring out the windshield into the storm. He looked as if he hadn't blinked in hours; his eyes were bloodshot and his face was extremely pale and strained. He had taken off his tank top from underneath his plaid shirt, and tied it around his arm to slow the bleeding of his gunshot wound. The part of the shirt thatwas covering the wound was now completely soaked in crimson blood.
"We'll be...just fine..." he strained again, trying to comfort himself, even though he spoke with a defined edge of panick.
The Burrow was slowly blurring into view as the car steadily approached. Ron descended in altitude, his heart beginning to do gymnastics inside his ribcage. Gods...what would he do when he got there? What would he say to his family...?? He needed to tell them...just tell them to get Harry to the hospital. He didn't know the way himself...
Before he knew it, the wheels of the car were touching down on the ground infront of the house. Getting out of his door, he went around to the back and got Harry, cradeling him gently in both arms. He was suprisingly light, and Ron figured his ass of an uncle must have been starving him.
On legs of jelly Ron proceeded to the door, and with his free hand, banged steadily on the wooden frame, then closed his eyes, letting the cool rain splash soothingly on his feverish face...this would all soon be over...
The room above him was suddenly illuminated with a feeble light. The sounds of a pair of feet descending the stairway followed shortly after. Then the shadow of a short, frumpy sort of woman slowly made it's way to the door, carrying a flickering candle that could be seen through the curtains on the door. Ron heard a faint click as the door was unlocked, and a sleepy looking woman peered out, frizzles of her red hair dripping out from under her nightcap in an untidy manner.
"Who in the world is it? It's the middle of the night, for gosh sakes--" She suddenly gasped as she caught sight of her son, who was standing stark in the doorway supporting the battered form of his best friend. She quickly drew her free hand to her mouth in shock and set the candle down on a table.
"Ron...my God...HARRY!!" Her face had grown white with shock as she turned quickly toward the stairs. "Arthur! Get down here! Quickly!!"
Mr. Weasley came bustling down the stairs, pulling on pajama pants and socks, wearing a look somewhere between confusion and alarm. "Molly, what is it, what's going on?"
His eyes drifted along the dark room and spotted three dark figures silhouetted in the doorway. "Who's there!?"
"Arthur..." Mrs. Weasley's voice was quaking tremultuously and Mr. weasley immediately rushed over. He swung the door back and let the moonlight splash across the three figures. Ron glanced up at him, his features gaunt and pale from the events of the past few hours, but his bright amber eyes shone with a pleading desparation.
"Dad..."
Mr. Weasley pushed the door fully back, and gasped as Harry came into view, his body littered with deep lacerations, sadistically illuminated crimson in the moonlight.
"Please Dad...Please help Harry..." Ron's voice waivered, barely audible.
Without questioning, Mr. Weasley took Harry into his arms. "Ok. Now everyone stay calm...I'm taking Harry to get some immediate medical attention."
"I want to come with you." Ron stepped forward, then winced and leaned against the table for support. Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she caught sight of his arm. She grabbed onto him protectively, steadying his shaking form.
All the lights in the Burrow blinked on instantly and the air was filled with the sound of many pairs of feet scurrying around over head. An elephant stampede sounded from the stairway, and Fred and George tumbled into the kitchen, followed by a disoriented Ginny and a disheveled Percy.
"What's the matter, mother?" Percy said at once. Ginny was staring transfixed infront of her. Glancing at her terrified expression, Fred and George followed her trail of vision and immediately detected why she had looked so horrified. She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a sob as her large brown eyes welled up with tears.
"Everybody," Mr. Weasley repeated sternly, trying to remain calm, "I'm dissapparating with Harry, he needs urgent medical attention." He glanced quickly at Ron, who stared back hoplessly, Mrs. Weasley clutching onto him for dear life. "Ron, you stay here and let your mother mend your arm. Hopefully I will be back very soon." He cast one last worried glance over his family before he dissapparated with a quick pop.
They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, the moonlight filtering a sickly green through the mesh of the curtains, highlighting the grim and tense features of their faces.
Ginny suddenlt broke down into sobs and fled from the room, both hands covering her face. George rushed after to comfort her.
Percy and Fred stepped warily up to where Ron and Mrs. Weasley were standing. Ron appeared to be straining to breath normally and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be shaken, although she was regaining much of her composure and sense. Gingerly, she cupped Ron's wounded arm in her hands.
"Ron dear...let me remove this and fix up your arm."
Ron twitched, more from nerves that from pain as his mother untied the bloody shirt and began to carefully unwrap it from his arm. He winced as his wound was exposed and open again, fresh blood welling from it. A salve was immediately applied to it, giving Ron a strange tingling sensation, and the access blood was mopped up with cotton balls. Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and prodded delicately at the gash.
"There's something in it..."
A feeble spray of pink light was emitted from the tip of the wand onto Ron's skin, and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he felt the bullet being pulled from within his flesh abrasively. Even though his arm was partially numb, he could still feel an intense pain stabbing through it as the bullet was ripped from his skin.
Exhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and stared at the bullet, which now hovered in mid air just above his arm, dripping with his own blood.
The lines on Mrs. Weasley's face sharpened with concern as she leaned over to take a closer look, continuing the spray of pink light with her wand.
"The bone is splintered also." she said, reaching toward the open mediwizard kit on the table. Out of it she pulled a medium sized purple patch of gauze and taped it carefully over her son's wound.
"Now sit, Ronald."
Ron obeyed and sat down on the small stool behind him. The pain seemed to be leaving his arm completely, probably from some sort of charm on the gauze. Mrs. Weasley was rooting through the mediwizard kit again.
"Oh bollocks, where is it..." she muttered urgently. Percy stepped over and pulled an orange bottle out of the kit. "Is this it?" he asked, presenting it to her.
She nodded approvingly, taking the bottle from him. "Thankyou, Percy. Ron, you will need to drink this and keep your arm in a sling for a while."
Ron watched her pour a generous amount of thick slimy oange medicine onto a spoon, and then walk up and hold it in his face. He stared at it disgustedly.
"Take it, Ron." she commanded sternly.
He closed his eyes, jamming the spoon into his mouth and shuddered as he felt the bitter substance sludge its way down his throat.
"There, that should repair your bone in a couple of days."
Percy picked up the old bottle and replaced it inside the kit, shutting it, then helped Ron with his sling. "Mum, why didn't we just send Ron with Dad to get fixed up? I mean, that stuff's pretty old...he could've gotten fixed up alot faster..."
Mrs. Weasley's ears tinged pink. "We could'nt afford it Percy. You know that..." She turned away, pretending to walk over to the other side of the room to get something, but Ron saw her wipe away a single tear that was sliding down her cheek. She was trying to keep up a tough front, trying to keep calm, even though the traumatic events of the night had affected her deeply. But she didn't want to show that to her children.
Fred had turned around to face Ron. "Ron...what happened anyway?"
Ron stared back at him in a saturnine manner, his eyes oddl glazed over, no emotion present in them whatsoever. He said nothing. Fred shot him a bizarre look.
"It's late." Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke up, diverting Fred's attention, "We'll talk in the morning...we all need rest," she added glancing straight at Ron, "Please just try and get some rest. I'll be up shortly." She waved the children up the stairs.
George had already escorted Ginny up to her bedroom, and Percy slowly ascended the stairs folowed closely by Fred.
Ron had gotten up and headed for the stairway, but when he was about at the threshold, he stopped in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. Mrs. Weasley sat by the window, staring out of it hoplessly, then cupped her face into her hands and let out a small sigh, wiping at her eyes. Ron turned back around and made his way up the stairs quietly as to not let her know that he had briefly been watching. Contrary to her previous statement that she would be up soon, he knew she was probably planning to stay there all night.
Painstakingly, Ron climbed the rest of the stairs and drug his tired and battered body down the hall into his room. Leaning with his back against his door, he shut it slowly with his body weight, the thin strip of hall light extinguishing from his floor. He now opened his eyes to the cold blue- black void of darkness, and stared intently at nothing. He slid slowly downward into a somewhat slumped sitting positionon the floor, scenes from what had happened replaying in his mind. How he had stolen the car and drove it to Harry's...getting into the house...finding the blood all over everything...then finding Harry...His uncle finding him...and...
'HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY HARRY!!"
Ron blinked, and rewound his mind. How dare you lay a finger on my Harry...MY Harry...?? He blinked again. Had he really said that? He ran a hand through his sweaty red hair, suprised at himself. He had just blurted it out without thinking. Why would he...? Ron searched the corners of his mind for a decent answer. He had realized that over the past year Harry had been on his mind constantly. With every choice in life he made, Harry was there. Could it be that..?? No, it couldn't be that, Ron assured himself quickly. Deny it...
"We're best friends..." he whispered quietly to himself, "Nothing more...it's not like I...more like we have a special bond..." His words choked off dejectedly. "My best friend. MY Harry. My Harry who's in the hospital right now, because I was to incompetant to figure out that something had been wrong..."
Ron leaned heavily against his door as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Right now, he felt like he would give anything just to make sure Harry was ok.
Ron threw himself down on his bed, buried his face in his arms, and cried.
That night he had cried harder than he ever had in his entire life.
~*Continued in Chapter 5*~
Chapter 4: Crimson in the Moonlight
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley
Rating: R
Memorandum: HELL WEEK IS OVER!!! I can now sleep again! And update!! *claps* also, I am going to go get my fingers x-rayed, because I think it is more than a sprain. So again, if there are spelling errors, I am terribly sorry. Oh yes....guess who now has 2 foot long WEASLEY RED HAIR!? *points at self* Hah hah hah....check out one of my friends journals and they will probably have pictures up. I just got back from Washington DC....oh I am tired...I'll just type this instead of doing my English homework. Its all good. BTW, did I mention this is a VERY long chapter? I'm not kidding...
P.S. Lets make it simple and just say that I dont own any Hp characters. ***********************************************************************
~*Crimson in the Moonlight*~
Ron awoke quickly, slapping his alarm clock off so no one else would hear it. It was now midnight. He still had the picture held to his chest, and Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
Slowly, he got up and placed the picture next to the other one on his night stand, then walked over to his closet. He pulled on faded jeans and a red plaid shirt, folded Harry's letter neatly into squares, and placed it in the pocket over his heart. He turned to sneak out his door, then hastily decided to bring his wand. He pocketed it carefully, his mind set and his face determind. He was ready.
Noislessly, he crept down the hallway and poked his head through Percy's door. He was asleep, sprawled lazily across his bed in his clothes, drooling on top of a ministry book and snoring loudly. Ron grinned. Not quite Mr. Perfect right now, was he? Ron's head disappeared from the doorway, and traveled down the crooked stairway.
He was making good progress, he had already made it to the car, and no one had either heard or noticed. Carefully, he sat in the drivers seat and closed the door with such care it made only a small click as it shut. His hands trembled with anticipation as he turned the key in the ignition. The car started with a loud sputter and roar from the engine, causing Ron to grit his teeth nervously. He immediately turned on the invisibility mechinism and sped off, afraid that if he sat in the driveway any longer that his family would wake up and see him.
The car tilted and swerved, gaining altitude as it rose up into the stormy night sky. Ron fumbled clumsily with shaking hands on the wheel, turning on the windshield wipers. The rain was still coming down hard and he had to squint to see through the sheets of water gushing over the windows.
The sky was suddenly illuminated by a bright crack of lightning, small gossamers spawning off of it, weaving their way through the sky. Ron gulped what felt like his heart back down his throat and tightened his hands on the wheel. He was driving a tin tuna boat through the air in the middle of a lightning storm... not the brightest idea in the world...
"Blimey, I must be nutters doing this...Don't want to end up a crispy critter before I get to Harry's..." He eyed the sky warily. He knew even though he had said that, he would have gone to Harry's aid anyway. Storm or no storm, nothing would stop him, nothing would waiver his determination. He WOULD reach Harry.
The storm raged on through the night as Ron soon neared his destination. As he got closer, his apprehension increased, and it was almost impossible to keep his mind from torturing him with the many terrible things that could have happened to Harry.
"Please, Harry..." Ron prayed silently over and over again. He had begun to wring his hands, cold and clammy with sweat, over the steering wheel methodically, and his heart began to beat furiously against his ribcage as he spotted Harry's house in the near distance.
Soon enough he was hovering right over the house; there appeared to be no cars in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, Ron descended quietly, touching down infront of the house, silently shutting off the engine. The car materialized out of thin air as Ron stepped out onto the pavement and gazed up at the darkened windows of the house. He glanced around briefly to see if anyone wa swatching before he stepped up to the door.
"Alohomora," he whispered, and the door magically clicked open. Ron had gone very pale with fear as he stepped through the threshold into the dark house, terrified of what he might find. Shakily, he took a few steps forward and bumped headlong into something, letting out a small frightened squeak, then cupped his hands over his mouth.
"Calm down you moron..." he whispered to himself, "It would probably be good if I could see where I was going..."
He bluntly whipped out his wand and muttered a spell, causing the tip of it to light up. He pointed the beam of light upward, and saw that he had bumped into the kitchen door left ajar. He then moved his wand down to light a pathway for his feet as he decided to move down the hallway toward the staircase.
There was a trail of something shining. It appeared to be broken mirror fragments. He followed these to the bottom of the staircase, where he stopped abruptly, staring transfixed at the carpet.
Glass and stains littered the last few stairs, the most at the bottom. Red stains. It was blood. Ron clutched his wand tightly...he wouldn't panic...he wouldn't...
As he tilted his wand upward, the beam illuminated a pathway up the stairs. There was a line of blood trailing up the stairs as if a body had been dragged up them.
Summoning all of his courage, Ron followed, even though he didn't know if he wanted to see where it lead. He tread tentatively over the last step, glancing occasionally at the wall, where there were sporadic spatters of blood as if someone had crashed into it at places. Ron strained his eyes back along the beam of light across the floor. Yes, the trail led down the hall, and causing Ron to tense up, into Harry's room.
"Dear God..." he muttered, his heart suddenly beating wildly. Before he realized what he was doing, his feet had begun to race toward the door without his order.
"Harry...HARRY!!" For some reason, he lost all control and began beating furiously on the door with his fists, screaming desperately for his best friend.
"HARRY...!!!" He pulled out his wand, shaking madly, and cast a spell as he pointed it at the lock. The door was still stuck as he tried to open it, but overcome with emotion, he tore it open in a frenzy, and stumbled into the room. The sight that met his eyes seemed to have wretched his heart in half.
Harry was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own dried blood, which was also caked into his hair and dried all over his clothes. The left lense of his glasses was completely shattered, the frames bent. His back was open and raw, which must have bled quite heavily, and there were shards of glass and splinters of wood embedded there in his wounded flesh. He had undoubtedly lost conciousness.
Ron dropped to his knees beside Harry, his mind numb, staring with shock. "Harry..." he whispered, straining his constricted throat. He lay a shaking hand upon his friend's disheveled hair. He felt very cold. Ron closed his eyes and tried to push his worst fear from his mind. He wasn't dead...he couldn't be...
Still closing his eyes, he prayed silently to God, and lay his shaking hand against Harry's throat. He felt a pulse. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and thanked his lucky stars Harry was still alive.
"U...ung..."
Ron turned his gaze downward, startled by the soft moan that sounded from below him. Harry's eyes had fluttered open and he half-stared around with a dazed expression. Ron choked up as Harry's eyes landed on him.
"R...Ron...?" he whispered in a distant voice.
Ron smiled down gently at him. "Yeah..It's me Harry, it's ok now..." he whispered back, stroking Harry's hand that he had a hold of, "It's ok...we're getting you out of here, I'm going to get help for you..." Here his expression sharpened alittle and he whispered more menacinly to the floor rather than Harry, "Whoever did this to you is going to pay."
There was a sudden noise of a door swinging open, and then shutting noisily from downstairs. Ron sat frozen on the floor next to Harry. Somebody else had come into the house. Then he remembered that his car was in the driveway, clearly visible to anyone that walked by, which meant whoever had entered the house also knew that he was there.
Ron's immediate thought went back to Harry, who had slipped silently back into the blackened depths of unconciousness. He wouldn't allow anything more to happen to him. He had to protect him, and get him the hell out of here, and fast. He rose slowly from his sitting position, edged shakily towards the slightly open door, and peered out. A large shadow drifted down the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, disappearing through a doorway. Ron gulped down the huge lump in his throat and slid out the door to the top of the stairs. The front door was still slightly open. If he could just move quickly enough...if he could just levitate Harry down the steps and out into the car, everything might just be ok. Ron took a deep breath, about to step back into Harry's room when--
"GAAAH!!" Ron screamed involuntarily as he collided with a large shadow that had stepped briskly out of the darkness into the doorway. Ron's eyes grew large as the shadow pointed something right at his face, and he heard a metallic click.
"Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?"
Ron's mouth hung open, speechless. He stared as a glint of light shone brightly on the thing that was being pointed an inch or so away from his face, and imediately recognized it as, as Harry had told him once, 'Something muggles used to kill each other.' A gun.
"I-I was just..." Ron stuttered, taking a step backward, the shadow looming ominously above him, "I came to help Harry and--"
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" The loud voice boomed suddenly.
Instinctively, Ron dove along the wall to get out of the way. There was a deafening blast that rang through the house, and Ron was suddenly too aware of a piercing sensation, and he clutched his arm in pain, slumping against the wall. He felt hot blood seep through his shirt and fingers from where the impact was taken and he groaned in pain. He hadn't been quick enough, but at least he had the instinction to dive out of the way or that would have been his head.
From where he had crumpled to the floor, Ron turned his gaze upward to where the shadow had stepped out into a beam of moonlight, revealing the silhouette of a very large man, his face constricted in anger. He noticed the shirt underneath his jacket had a blood stain on the front. At first Ron figured it must have been his, from his gunshot wound. But it hadn't sprayed that far, had it? And wouldn't it have gotten on his outer jacket rather than on the inside? The gears in Ron's head began to click into place when the fact hit him that the blood wasn't recent... the color told it had been at least twelve hours...
The man turned and walked toward Harry's room. He must had figured he had killed Ron, because Ron wasn't making any sound nor movement, and he was concealed in shadow. Ron realized he musn't have seen when he dived out of the way, and thought he had hit his target dead on.
The man pulled open the door, growling menacingly. "Calling outsiders for help are you? I've had enough of this, you bloody brat!! I might as well just finish what I've started!"
Ron's head snapped up, alert as the harsh reality of those last few words sunk home in his mind. He heard the metallic click again. This was the man that had hurt Harry before...and he was going to do it again. This time for good.
A spark had suddenly seemed to ignite a fire in Ron's mind, for it could certainly be seen in the look in his eyes.
'How dare he...How dare this man...'
Turning a blind eye to the excruciating pain, Ron lurched up from th ground. "How dare you...YOU BASTARD!!" he screamed.
Vernon let out a startled cry as his wrist was caught in a firm grasp and he was flung backwards out into the hallway, the suprised gun firing a bullet throug the ceiling. Before Vernon could stand up, Ron made a fist and bashed it into his face with all the strength he could muster. He had never been so angry in all his life, for all he could see right now was red.
Uncle Vernon rolled backwards to the top of the stairs, clutching his bleeding nose in agony. He stood up quite quickly for such a fat man, and stood, facing Ron, breathing heavily. "Too bad, you little faggot, you loose!" he growled, pointing the gun at Ron with one swift movement. His fat face grew into a horrible sneer, and he pulled the trigger.
All that it produced was a dull click.
Vernon's face suddenly went white with horror, and he shot his gaze back up at Ron. Ron was glaring at him with an bemused expression Vernon could not read.
"No, sorry...YOU loose." With a maniacal glint in his eye that would have terrified all of the U.S. Marine Corps. into submission, Ron whipped his wand out of his pocket and held it elegantly infront of him with the distinct air of animosity. Now the fire in his eyes seemed to be blazing brighter than his firey red hair.
"How dare you..." he ground out menacingly through clenched teeth, "HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY HARRY!! YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!"
Oblivious to the white hot paint that was overtaking his arm, he whipped his wand at Uncle Vernon with such vehemence, and screamed a spell at the top of his lungs in a voice that didn't even seem his own. A blast exploded from the tip of his wand with such passion that the house itself seemed to shudder in its frame. The sheer blast of energy screamed through the air with an emmense force until it met dead center with its target.
Uncle Vernon's shrill scream was cutt off, the blast colliding with his stomach. He was sent sailing down the stairs and clear through the wall at an incredible speed where the mirror had hung, and then lay silent in the pile of rubble in the next room. Chunks of loose wall fell from the new gaping hole and crashed onto the floor, interrupting the eerie silence.
Ron stood, astonished by what he had just done, shaking spasmodically as the rage filtered from his system and sense was restored in his brain. He didn't care that he broke the wall, or that he had probably broken hundreds of bones in Vernon's body. He didn't even care that he had just broken a critical rule about not using magic outside of Hogwarts, and with a very serious spell at that...if it meant saving Harry, he didn't care what he had to do. If he was kicked out of Hogwarts, so what...Harry was so much more important.
"Harry..." Gripping his wand tightly in his good arm, he ran back through the door to his friend's side. He knealt beside him, running his hand over his tangled black hair.
"We're leaving this place now. It's all going to be ok...hang on, Harry, please hang on..." He held Harry's hand soothingly, even though he knew the boy could not hear what he was saying.
"Mobilicorpus" he said gently, and levitated Harry's body from the floor, making sure not to cause him further pain or injury.
As he was about to pass through the door, Ron spotted a picture inside a neat little frame lying carelessly on the floor. He pcked it up gingerly, noticing it was the same picture he had on his nightstand back at the Burrow, only this one now sported a small crack that ran across the protective glass. Smiling gently, Ron replaced it on Harry's nightstand.
*****
The ride home was silent except for the splashing of raindrops against the windshield, and the occasional roll of thunder in the distance. Harry was in the back seat on top of a ton of soft blankets that Ron had placed there to prevent further injury. He hadn't had much trouble getting Harry into the car back at Privet Drive; he was quite easy to levitate.
Every few minutes Ron would impulsively glance back at Harry's still form in the rear view mirror, then tear his eyes away, straining to keep his train of thought on steering the car and getting safely back to the Burrow.
To make it easier on himself, he would pretend Harry was just asleep in the back seat to ease his restless mind. But it only worked to an extent, for whenever the clouds parted, the car was filled with a pale glow of moonlight, and whenever Ron happened to glance back then and see the cuts and bruises on Harry's pale skin, he was painfully reminded of his morbid purpose, and he tightened his grip ont he steering wheel.
"You'll be fine, Harry..." Ron mumbled absentmindedly, staring out the windshield into the storm. He looked as if he hadn't blinked in hours; his eyes were bloodshot and his face was extremely pale and strained. He had taken off his tank top from underneath his plaid shirt, and tied it around his arm to slow the bleeding of his gunshot wound. The part of the shirt thatwas covering the wound was now completely soaked in crimson blood.
"We'll be...just fine..." he strained again, trying to comfort himself, even though he spoke with a defined edge of panick.
The Burrow was slowly blurring into view as the car steadily approached. Ron descended in altitude, his heart beginning to do gymnastics inside his ribcage. Gods...what would he do when he got there? What would he say to his family...?? He needed to tell them...just tell them to get Harry to the hospital. He didn't know the way himself...
Before he knew it, the wheels of the car were touching down on the ground infront of the house. Getting out of his door, he went around to the back and got Harry, cradeling him gently in both arms. He was suprisingly light, and Ron figured his ass of an uncle must have been starving him.
On legs of jelly Ron proceeded to the door, and with his free hand, banged steadily on the wooden frame, then closed his eyes, letting the cool rain splash soothingly on his feverish face...this would all soon be over...
The room above him was suddenly illuminated with a feeble light. The sounds of a pair of feet descending the stairway followed shortly after. Then the shadow of a short, frumpy sort of woman slowly made it's way to the door, carrying a flickering candle that could be seen through the curtains on the door. Ron heard a faint click as the door was unlocked, and a sleepy looking woman peered out, frizzles of her red hair dripping out from under her nightcap in an untidy manner.
"Who in the world is it? It's the middle of the night, for gosh sakes--" She suddenly gasped as she caught sight of her son, who was standing stark in the doorway supporting the battered form of his best friend. She quickly drew her free hand to her mouth in shock and set the candle down on a table.
"Ron...my God...HARRY!!" Her face had grown white with shock as she turned quickly toward the stairs. "Arthur! Get down here! Quickly!!"
Mr. Weasley came bustling down the stairs, pulling on pajama pants and socks, wearing a look somewhere between confusion and alarm. "Molly, what is it, what's going on?"
His eyes drifted along the dark room and spotted three dark figures silhouetted in the doorway. "Who's there!?"
"Arthur..." Mrs. Weasley's voice was quaking tremultuously and Mr. weasley immediately rushed over. He swung the door back and let the moonlight splash across the three figures. Ron glanced up at him, his features gaunt and pale from the events of the past few hours, but his bright amber eyes shone with a pleading desparation.
"Dad..."
Mr. Weasley pushed the door fully back, and gasped as Harry came into view, his body littered with deep lacerations, sadistically illuminated crimson in the moonlight.
"Please Dad...Please help Harry..." Ron's voice waivered, barely audible.
Without questioning, Mr. Weasley took Harry into his arms. "Ok. Now everyone stay calm...I'm taking Harry to get some immediate medical attention."
"I want to come with you." Ron stepped forward, then winced and leaned against the table for support. Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she caught sight of his arm. She grabbed onto him protectively, steadying his shaking form.
All the lights in the Burrow blinked on instantly and the air was filled with the sound of many pairs of feet scurrying around over head. An elephant stampede sounded from the stairway, and Fred and George tumbled into the kitchen, followed by a disoriented Ginny and a disheveled Percy.
"What's the matter, mother?" Percy said at once. Ginny was staring transfixed infront of her. Glancing at her terrified expression, Fred and George followed her trail of vision and immediately detected why she had looked so horrified. She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a sob as her large brown eyes welled up with tears.
"Everybody," Mr. Weasley repeated sternly, trying to remain calm, "I'm dissapparating with Harry, he needs urgent medical attention." He glanced quickly at Ron, who stared back hoplessly, Mrs. Weasley clutching onto him for dear life. "Ron, you stay here and let your mother mend your arm. Hopefully I will be back very soon." He cast one last worried glance over his family before he dissapparated with a quick pop.
They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, the moonlight filtering a sickly green through the mesh of the curtains, highlighting the grim and tense features of their faces.
Ginny suddenlt broke down into sobs and fled from the room, both hands covering her face. George rushed after to comfort her.
Percy and Fred stepped warily up to where Ron and Mrs. Weasley were standing. Ron appeared to be straining to breath normally and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be shaken, although she was regaining much of her composure and sense. Gingerly, she cupped Ron's wounded arm in her hands.
"Ron dear...let me remove this and fix up your arm."
Ron twitched, more from nerves that from pain as his mother untied the bloody shirt and began to carefully unwrap it from his arm. He winced as his wound was exposed and open again, fresh blood welling from it. A salve was immediately applied to it, giving Ron a strange tingling sensation, and the access blood was mopped up with cotton balls. Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and prodded delicately at the gash.
"There's something in it..."
A feeble spray of pink light was emitted from the tip of the wand onto Ron's skin, and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he felt the bullet being pulled from within his flesh abrasively. Even though his arm was partially numb, he could still feel an intense pain stabbing through it as the bullet was ripped from his skin.
Exhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and stared at the bullet, which now hovered in mid air just above his arm, dripping with his own blood.
The lines on Mrs. Weasley's face sharpened with concern as she leaned over to take a closer look, continuing the spray of pink light with her wand.
"The bone is splintered also." she said, reaching toward the open mediwizard kit on the table. Out of it she pulled a medium sized purple patch of gauze and taped it carefully over her son's wound.
"Now sit, Ronald."
Ron obeyed and sat down on the small stool behind him. The pain seemed to be leaving his arm completely, probably from some sort of charm on the gauze. Mrs. Weasley was rooting through the mediwizard kit again.
"Oh bollocks, where is it..." she muttered urgently. Percy stepped over and pulled an orange bottle out of the kit. "Is this it?" he asked, presenting it to her.
She nodded approvingly, taking the bottle from him. "Thankyou, Percy. Ron, you will need to drink this and keep your arm in a sling for a while."
Ron watched her pour a generous amount of thick slimy oange medicine onto a spoon, and then walk up and hold it in his face. He stared at it disgustedly.
"Take it, Ron." she commanded sternly.
He closed his eyes, jamming the spoon into his mouth and shuddered as he felt the bitter substance sludge its way down his throat.
"There, that should repair your bone in a couple of days."
Percy picked up the old bottle and replaced it inside the kit, shutting it, then helped Ron with his sling. "Mum, why didn't we just send Ron with Dad to get fixed up? I mean, that stuff's pretty old...he could've gotten fixed up alot faster..."
Mrs. Weasley's ears tinged pink. "We could'nt afford it Percy. You know that..." She turned away, pretending to walk over to the other side of the room to get something, but Ron saw her wipe away a single tear that was sliding down her cheek. She was trying to keep up a tough front, trying to keep calm, even though the traumatic events of the night had affected her deeply. But she didn't want to show that to her children.
Fred had turned around to face Ron. "Ron...what happened anyway?"
Ron stared back at him in a saturnine manner, his eyes oddl glazed over, no emotion present in them whatsoever. He said nothing. Fred shot him a bizarre look.
"It's late." Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke up, diverting Fred's attention, "We'll talk in the morning...we all need rest," she added glancing straight at Ron, "Please just try and get some rest. I'll be up shortly." She waved the children up the stairs.
George had already escorted Ginny up to her bedroom, and Percy slowly ascended the stairs folowed closely by Fred.
Ron had gotten up and headed for the stairway, but when he was about at the threshold, he stopped in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. Mrs. Weasley sat by the window, staring out of it hoplessly, then cupped her face into her hands and let out a small sigh, wiping at her eyes. Ron turned back around and made his way up the stairs quietly as to not let her know that he had briefly been watching. Contrary to her previous statement that she would be up soon, he knew she was probably planning to stay there all night.
Painstakingly, Ron climbed the rest of the stairs and drug his tired and battered body down the hall into his room. Leaning with his back against his door, he shut it slowly with his body weight, the thin strip of hall light extinguishing from his floor. He now opened his eyes to the cold blue- black void of darkness, and stared intently at nothing. He slid slowly downward into a somewhat slumped sitting positionon the floor, scenes from what had happened replaying in his mind. How he had stolen the car and drove it to Harry's...getting into the house...finding the blood all over everything...then finding Harry...His uncle finding him...and...
'HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY HARRY!!"
Ron blinked, and rewound his mind. How dare you lay a finger on my Harry...MY Harry...?? He blinked again. Had he really said that? He ran a hand through his sweaty red hair, suprised at himself. He had just blurted it out without thinking. Why would he...? Ron searched the corners of his mind for a decent answer. He had realized that over the past year Harry had been on his mind constantly. With every choice in life he made, Harry was there. Could it be that..?? No, it couldn't be that, Ron assured himself quickly. Deny it...
"We're best friends..." he whispered quietly to himself, "Nothing more...it's not like I...more like we have a special bond..." His words choked off dejectedly. "My best friend. MY Harry. My Harry who's in the hospital right now, because I was to incompetant to figure out that something had been wrong..."
Ron leaned heavily against his door as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Right now, he felt like he would give anything just to make sure Harry was ok.
Ron threw himself down on his bed, buried his face in his arms, and cried.
That night he had cried harder than he ever had in his entire life.
~*Continued in Chapter 5*~
