Spells and Spiders

~*RW*~

School had been in session for an entire term already; sometimes Ron could hardly believe it went so fast - and so slow. He was bogged down with homework, seven different classes each day, and on top of all that, he still liked to see Hermione on the weekends. It was hard juggling everything into his daily schedule.

Ron had finally given up and let Hermione show him how to use the telephone she had bought him at Christmas. He had put up a lot of protest when she came to teach him how to use it, but he liked hearing her voice sometimes on really bad days. He seemed to have many of those.

The Aurors' Academy classes were tough, but it was nothing compared to loneliness Ron felt when he was there. Everyone else was older and seemed to think that he had bought his way in. No amount of hand-me-down materials and high-water robes could convince them otherwise. Even when they weren't mocking him, they were ignoring him, and he wasn't sure which he hated more. He would have been glad to go to school with Malfoy, just to see a familiar face. Besides that, lessons were long and boring, the school day started early, and though it finished at a normal hour, there were endless afternoons of homework to do.

The Academy offered board, but it wasn't included in Ron's offer, and as he had learned how to Apparate, he didn't think it necessary. But he was the only one left at home now that Ginny was back in school, and his mother never seemed to leave him alone while he was trying to get his work done. The only thing keeping him going was the thought that he got to see Hermione every Friday night when he went to her house, or as she started getting better, she came to his.

Both families were happy with this arrangement, and there were extra rooms at each house for guests. Ron had even caught him mom talking on the telephone with Mrs. Granger, chatting and gossiping away.

Mid-year exams had passed, and now the school was in its usual state. Some of Ron's classes were interesting enough, but the professors found ways to make them boring with droning lectures and rolls of essays. Ron was doing well, but it was only because he had nothing better to do than go home and do his homework. Meanwhile, Hermione's father was trying to teach him how to drive a car, and Ron was persuading Hermione to take her Apparating test. Neither was going so well, and now Ron was in his room, daydreaming of ways to ask his parents for enough money to even get his license. "It's a practical thing to have, even if you can fly around on your broomstick," Hermione had said. "Your dad even had a car once." That car had gotten him and Harry into trouble one time, and Ron wasn't all too keen on having to drive another one, even though they were getting more and more common among wizards.

Ron looked down and the paragraphs in the textbook loomed up at him. Who is the culprit, and how did Moody know where to find him? Be sure to use the evidence to explain your answer. They were all short scenarios he had to come up with an answer to, then he had to memorize facts about sixteen different trials from the earlier reign of the Dark Lord Voldemort (he was getting better at hearing the name now without flinching). He messily jotted down something about the plant stuck on the bottom of the victim's boots, and he was done with his homework. The memorization was easy; he could touch up on his facts at lunch. He had nothing better to do, after all.

The phone sat there, waiting for him to use it. He wanted to, but Hermione would already be asleep. Tomorrow morning she had a big meeting with Cornelius Fudge.

After her illness, Hermione had wanted to spread the cure to everyone else. But it couldn't be done openly. Unicorns were thought to be only myth in the Muggle world. Hermione had huge and complex plans to start up trade for the mysterious powder in small African countries where AIDS was most prevalent. However, there were very strict rules about foreign trade, especially wizard-Muggle trade or magic goods, so she needed to get the position approved by the Minister himself. She had been waiting since Christmas to meet with him, and it was now the beginning of February. Fudge was a very busy man, especially in this time of great fear and crime.

Ron didn't want to bother Hermione, knowing how important this job was to her, so he decided to get to bed instead. Tomorrow was Thursday, and that meant only one more day until he could see her again. Quickly, he shoved his books into his bag, pulled on his pajamas and crawled into bed.

* * *

The clock on the wall chimed six times. "Not already," Ron groaned sleepily, but the long hand was pointing to "Get up, lazybones!" Grumbling, he got up and dressed, and went down to the kitchen.

When all nine Weasleys had lived at home, there was always a large commotion when Ron went to breakfast, but with just him and his parents there, it was usually quiet. But as he shuffled down the stairs, Ron could hear his parents' voices talking gravely in hushed voices.

"Who died?" he joked, entering the kitchen. His father held up the front page of the Daily Prophet.

MINISTER, MURDERED!

British Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was assassinated, apparently late last night.

"When I went into work this morning," said a Ministry spokesperson, Oliver Wood, assistant for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, "I saw the Dark Mark hanging over the building. Of course, I was so nervous, I couldn't even bring myself to go inside and check it out."

Wood, 21, alerted the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement and Dark Arts Detection, and they found Fudge, dead in his office. The door was broken in, and this is an obvious crime involving You-Know-Who, or at least, some of his followers. The building is undergoing major searches at the present. See tomorrow's paper for a follow-up report.

Ron picked up the phone, not worried that it was only six thirty in the morning. "Hermione! Have you seen today's Prophet?"

"Hmmm…?" Hermione asked sleepily. "You do know what time it is, don't you? You haven't forgotten my meeting today?"

"You mean the meeting that's canceled?"

"How do you know it's canceled? What happened?"

"Look at your paper!" There was the sound of rustling and a gasp. "Killed! Oh, no, this is terrible!"

"See, Hermione, this is why we need Aurors. If I had been investigating, I would have found the murderer already!"

"Oh, please. You haven't even been on a real mission yet. Wait, there's an owl coming. It looks important. Have fun at school, Ron!" She hung up.

* * *

While everyone at school was jabbering about the crisis, and the teachers had all changed or canceled their lessons to talk about it, Ron was thinking of something different altogether.

He had had that dream again last night. It was a dream he had been having more and more frequently lately. It always started off differently. Last night, he had seen the spider on the wall in the bathroom, and it had just started to grow and grow until it was the size of the house. Then it became all the other dreams: someone was screaming while the thing tried to bite him and poison him. He had woken up then, but sometimes he lasted long enough for the thing to kill him off. Sometimes, he even heard the voice screaming his name. But no matter how many times he had it, he couldn't make any sense of it. He supposed he was just so much more nervous now for the safety of the wizarding world that old fears started to haunt him. He tried not to worry about it, but everything he looked at seemed to be a spider. Still, the attack on the Minister nagged at his mind, too. If the Ministry fell completely, Voldemort would have full reign.