A/N: Ok. I have three and a half things to say.
First: This is totally (almost) a filler chapter, so nothing significant happens but character development. And Ron is really being neglected (because I hate him), so I think he's going to get this chapter to sort of balance things out.
Second: Silverleaf--First of all, I thank you for reviewing. And for longishness of it (which made me feel good that people would actually take time over this stupid thing instead of just flaming it). You said-as well as a whole lot of you-that my writing was at first like JKR's, and I had great potential blahblah, and then it just sucked. Ok, so I'm not Rowling-and I really don't want to be. I, too, read fanfiction because it serves as a sort of substitute for the actual Harry Potter Books, which none of us can honestly say we've had enough of, but if my sole purpose is to write like J. K. Rowling, then everyone would blame my fic for being redundant and plagiaristic. I swear, dere's no pleasing you people, so I'll just be content w/what I have, shall I? And I don't recall ever saying that Lily and James were not Head Boy and Girl, or that Severus was extra sticky sugarplums. If you chose to misconstrue it that way, then go ahead, but the story is about Harry and co., so I don't really care.
Oh, go check out All the things you are (pretty please) for some L/J/MWWP, plleeeeezz??
Er...what else?
Oh yes, the third: Behold the Void--Oh, you really are too smart for me. I didn't really intend for the Prophecy to come off Eddings-esque, but, well, I really respect the guy, so my subconscious must've slipped it in. (Yeah, just blame it all on me say the voices in my head) I have to say though that until the middle of Sorceress of Darshiva, I'd wanted Ce'Nedra to die because I thought it would be more powerful that way, and everyone was acting all like they just recently realized her worth and all, so don't get your hopes up, Hermione really may be the actual Sacrifice *winks*. And for the amount of Eddings references in here, owing to the fact that I just finished The Mallorean waiting for the fifth book to come out, this may as well be a crossover. I hope you caught that bit in the dream about the woman and the baby which was actually intentional--like in Demon Lord of Karanda. ^.^ Yes, I know, how cheesy do I get? Just be glad I don't stick Raistlin here (and I'm supposing you read Dragonlance, or atleast Forgotten Realms?). As for my grammatical errors, I'm just concentrating on finishing the fic as fast as I can before I lost interest, but never fear coz I'll probably fix it all in the end. If it really bothers you though, you can just...fix them in your head. Or flame me! Right then.
#3.5: Special thanks to Mella deRanged, and Jack, and also pen-paper-action who put my fave count at 15, more than twice what it was before. And the others too, thanks for reviewing. On with the fic.
"Ronald Weasley, why didn't you tell me about this?" his sister squealed. A few first year Gryffindor's turned to look at them.
"W-what?" Ron stuttered, his ears turning slightly pink as he struggled to keep his eyes on the cold eggs on his fork.
She thrust the letter which a barn owl had delivered to them under his nose.
Hello darlings,
I hope you two are doing well at school, and
will continue to do so for the next few weeks while your friends stay with me
back Home. In case this letter is intercepted, I won't say much but that
all three of them are doing fine. They are currently doing schooling of their
own, and they will be back to tell you the rest (or as much as they can) I'm not
really sure if Dumbledore wants news to be public yet. I've sent you some of my
fudge for you, Gin, in case those cramps get really bad, don't eat it all at
once (Ron grimaced slightly at this) And you, Ron, don't eat any of it
either! Fred and George have told me about their news, and we're planning the
date sometime next year. We still haven't heard anything from You-Know-Whom,
please let me know (not your father) if you happen to do so. Bill and Charlie
are here with us, so if you're going to owl, you know where to find them. Love
you,
Be good,
-Mum.
Ginny was looking expectantly at him, an eyebrow arched.
"Sorry," Ron replied sourly, turning to look up at the cloudy sky. "Do you think we should postpone Quidditch practice? Or maybe send Hedwig to ask Harry?" he said, hoping that Ginny would take the bait to change the subject.
"Ron!" Ginny cried, and Ron's face fell, "You should have told me! I mean you really expected me to believe that they were off in N.E.W.T level camp? In the middle of school? And Neville too?" She was frowning, and apparently expecting Ron to apologize or something of the sort.
"Oh, sod off, Ginny, it was the only thing I could think of!" said Ron, "Hermione said Harry told her not to tell you since you'd worry. She probably wouldn't have told me if Dumbledore hadn't asked me!"
"So what am I now some kind of child everyone's hoping to protect?"
Ron frowned. "If you didn't act so much like one,"
"Me?!"
"Shut up you two," said Luna, who had been quietly chewing a particularly unruly piece of bacon in the seat next to them. They both turned and glanced at her, a bit incredulously. Since their collective adventure the end of the year before, it had seemed she had permanently attached themselves to their group. And here she was, a Ravenclaw, sitting at the Gryffindor table.
"Who asked you anyway?" Ron muttered, as he and Ginny silently finished the rest of their breakfast.
As much as he had hated to admit it, he felt that the inseperable trio of himself, Harry and Hermione had drifted apart greatly. And now, stupid Neville had taken his place. He resented that his sister had also become somewhat of best friends with Luna Lovegood, forcing her into their company, when he had rather intended that she should be more intimate with Hermione, and even Harry--but in an entirely different fashion. It was not at all working out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had become Ginny, Ron and Luna. It was a completely aversive thought to Ron.
Being the last male child of the Weasley family, and having Ginny a little more on the timorous side, Ron had really been getting used to things being done his way as a sort of compensation for accepting hand-me-downs and cheap presents. And really, this was very frustrating. Next thing he knew, he was going to lose Hermione to someone like Colin Creevey. He smiled unconsciously at the thought, feeling slightly better thinking of his almost-perfect girlfriend. She never let him down.
"The rain's not stopping anytime soon, so I'm going to tell the Roy, Barnes, and the girls we'll make it longer Monday case they have anything to do," Ginny said.
"Whatever. I have homework." Ron said, carelessly throwing down his fork and stumbling off to the Gryffindor Commons. Luna and Ginny exchanged an exasperated look. The used silverware disappeared with a crackling noise.
"A game of Snap?" Ginny suggested.
"You always win," Luna complained, "how about chess?" Ginny scowled in response.
Ron was having a fun time, though, practicing an Imperturbable Charm on his trunk and having it bounce constantly off as if it were already cast. If only Hermione were here. Finally, he threw down his relatively new wand and disgruntled, went to the desk to owl her.
Dearest Hermione,
He began, but didn't know what else to say.
"It's a beautiful day out," glanced at the rain thundering down in sheets like Angel Falls. "how's Harry?" When are you getting back, he wanted to ask, but she would just get off on another lecture. "I can't say much because Mum is being all worried again, like Voldemort's just going to trace my owl, and come murder me under the Headmaster's eyes."
Ron racked his brains, thinking of something boyfriend-ish to say. "I love you, I miss you, I remember you when I see Crookshanks." But he realized that all they had in common was Harry and homework. He only loved her because she was a wonderful person, and hadn't really a personal attachment to her, and missed her only when he couldn't get a certain charm or potion right. And Crookshanks had hated him anyway since the incident with Scabbers. Or Wormtail, not that it mattered much anyhow, but the stupid fat cat still held the grudge.
So what did he say to Hermione? Write my potions essay for me? Tell me how to cast a proper Imperturbable Charm? He felt guilty at the selfishness of his thoughts, but also felt as if she would be expecting that of him. Their relationship was so predictable. He knew her so well, and she him, and they always argued the same exact way, broke up, then got back together. There was no real romance, or seduction, or adventure. Ron sighed. He and Hermione were so boring together...
He began writing. It was wrong to lead Hermione on, and if his mother had taught him anything right, it was to be honest. It would hurt her feelings, devastate her, surely, but it had to be done. 'Course, he thought, she was a great woman and all, but Hermione wasn't really...his type...he was thinking more that hot 6th year Hufflepuff, Rinoa Lin with the blonde hair and those huge...
His quill suddenly paused above the parchment as he stopped to think of Rinoa. Then feeling slightly sickened, he started furiously scribbling again.
... I'm sure you'll agree when you've gotten
over the initial shock of my proposal, as its usually you who suggest we break
up, but it really is all for the best. I hope you find someone who doesn't argue
as much, but be sure to introduce us so I'll approve. I don't mean get back with
that Viktor Krum bloke (for goodness sakes he can't even get your name right),
but try to aim higher, eh?
Love you,
Ron.
He looked over the hurriedly written letter, and corrected a few spelling mistakes he'd overlooked and sealed it and went up to the Owlery to find Hedwig. She hooted when he'd said to give it to Hermione, then flew out of the open Window into the pounding rain.
But Hermione never got it.
The inhabitants of Twelve Grimmauld Place were making hastened preparations to evacuate. The Dark Lord had somehow managed to oust Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm and kidnap Harry Potter. At the moment, his whereabouts were unknown, but someone had the common sense to have Trace him with a charm (not finding him, for he was out of range), but fortunately discovering nearly ten giants on their way to ambush them.
"I will go personally up to inform Fudge, tell him not to panic. Arthur, please floo to Hogwarts and let Minerva know that I probably won't be at Dinner. Moody, I leave the rest to your hands," Dumbledore said, his blue cloak billowing behind him and his dull footsteps echoing off to the distance.
"Alright," Moody began, and Arthur struggled with his cloak, "You get in the regular duck formation, as soon as you take-off, go as high up as possible," his continued explaining their plans, what to do in case the Giants met them unexpectedly, how to perform Tracing Charms without being Traced themselves.
Hermione and Neville stood forgotten to a side, her hands firmly holding his shaking arms.
"Neville, I want you to listen to me, calm down, ok?" Hermione commanded. He nodded.
"We will all be fine before its all over. Go make like your're getting Harry's Firebolt, use the Kitchen fireplace, tell Ron we're okay, then, meet me in the entryway after the Order folks are out."
"But Hermione," he interrupted, "You are Order folk, Moody will probably want you toward the front seeing as how you and me were with Harry last."
Hermione crinkled her brows a minute, seemingly deep in thought. "I've never heard of any magic to overthrow a Fidelius Charm," she admitted finally.
"Hermione," Neville replied, their roles suddenly reversed. "This isn't the time. Molly will take care of Ron and the others. We have to concentrate first on getting out of here. Then to find Harry, before..." he trailed off, unsure of how she'd take it.
"You're right," she said, "Accio Firebolt." And the red broomstick came zooming towards them. Hermione nearly cried at the many times she'd seen Harry doing it before Quidditch practice or an unscheduled rendezvous. Neville embraced her comfortingly, and she was surprised at the irony of things. Neville was supposed to be the one needing comfort, and here he was, strong as even the bravest Gryffindors of the Order of the Phoenix.
"Thank you," she sniffed, as they began walking, responding to Moody's summons to join him in the front of the duck position.
They moved as six rows of five people each. There three on one side and three on the other, Moody at the front, with two rear guards--Emmaline Vance and Dedalus Diggle who were renowned for their dueling skills. A burly, intimidating looking man was behind Moony, and on either side of him were Hermione (on the left) and Neville (to the right). Many members whom Hermione was familiar with were missing, including Tonks (who was at Hogwarts) and Molly, whom she supposed was undercover somewhere like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. The duck position, it turned out, looked like giant upside down V. Like migratory ducks--which she supposed was the logic of the name.
They flew up so high so fast that their ears popped collectively, or so Neville presumed. Behind them, Cherian Crompton was struggling to breathe, but Moody did nothing to even acknowledge his glaring discomfort. It began getting colder and colder, and the ground below them was almost invisible below the fast moving clouds. Neville caught his breath and closed his eyes, wavering slightly on his broomstick. The two people beside him, a mousy woman and the giant man both turned to look fleetingly at him, and Hermione mouthed "What's wrong?", but Neville shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly between the two heads in front. Cherian's breaths were shallower and shallower, and it took all of the evilness and bad will in his heart mustered together for him to keep from turning and helping his apparation teacher. Not that he would know how anyway...
When Cherian's breathing stopped altogether, almost an hour later, and he turned a sharp ninety-degree angle to plummet downwards on his broom, Neville clenched his hands tightly on his own broomstick till his knuckles turned white and he had to strain to keep looking dead ahead through the tears that blurred his vision. Hermione, on the other hand, disregarding Moody's warnings, pointed her wand back to him and straightened his broomstick's course toward a nearby lighthouse.
Moody cast a Sonorus spell on himself when he'd spotted the awry form of the man upon his broomstick off toward the lighthouse below.
"Whoever that was!" he yelled forebodingly, "You're going to get one hell of a beatin when we're down!" Neville noticed the slightly smug expression on Hermione's face as she straightened on her broom and stuffed her wand back in her pocket, her chin up proudly.
It turned out that Moody, though he'd said they would only be flying for an hour and a half to an Unplottable Island right off the coast, ended up deliberately missing it.
"There it is, down there!" Lupin had shouted, when they'd seen it, but suddenly, Moody had shot a Silencing Charm at him. So it was that they flew for nearly a day, right along the coast until they all sunk down, dead exhausted and even more hungry, on the rocky beach and then were rushed straight into a dank, cramped cave. Moody raised his non-wand hand (a signal for light) and they all thankfully lit their wands. Many of them sitting down on stalagmites, or even on the bare floor.
"Now," Moody began, shooting a slightly apologetic look to all of them, resting his one eye a bit longer on the still Silenced Remus, "I've managed to set off the thestrals' trail about a day. They were the ones following us, in case none of you saw. Close as a mile from us at one point. And they can hear pretty well too," he said sheepishly, waving his wand at Remus. "We'll rest here for about four hours, get a bite to eat. Twill have to be fish less you can find bigger game, but don't leave the cave till I give the say-so. We're right close to Dublin, so after ye eat, start dispersing two by two. I want to see the young girl 'fore she goes off someplace." There was a hard glint in his eyes as Hermione came forth, Neville standing guard close behind, and the others began chattering amongst themselves.
"I didn't ask for you boy," Moody snapped, when both his swivelling and smaller eyeballs settled on him. Neville went off to find his Ex-Defense Against The Dark teacher, hearing faint strains of "What if he'd been found?! He'd know our exact plans down to the last bloody detail!"
As Hedwig was returning to Ron the next night, still with the letter, Harry Potter was stumbling aimlessly around, thirsty and nearly collapsing of hunger, the effects of the dry desert atmosphere wearing upon his mere will to live any longer. Though he could smell the salty, balminess of the ocean, he saw nothing. But still he walked on in hopes of finding help, as if compelled, yet thoroughly hopeless.
His instincts though, proved to be true. Or would have if he'd known that he was on an Unplottable island off the coast of Alaska, much like the one back closer to his home where Moody had planned to hide the Order, standing right on the beach, smack in the middle of a flawless illusion. And watching him through an invisible turret window was an old man, wrinkly enough that his skin was falling off of him, but a happy smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The man wore mismatched boots and a short and long sock on both feet, and was comfortably swathed in an oversized and tacky yellow robe.
"So here is our next Child of Light," he said, turning away and nearly tripping over the hem of his clothing as he rushed down the stairs to get to Harry before the enchantment wore off.
