Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor
Chapter Eight : Disappearing Potter Tricks
"Harry, you stupid git, wake up!" Ron called, shoving back the curtains to Harry's bed. It was a long-standing rule amongst the teen-aged boys not to open the curtains to someone else's bed under any circumstances. Long-standing since they caught Neville with that book on Dryads, at any rate.
The bed was empty. There was no note. Harry could already have been captured, killed, or expelled. Ron was starting to see things from his Mother's point of view. Unbelievable.
Ron marched out of his dormitory and down to the common room. Most of the students from the Gryffindor House were there, but none of the ones that he was looking for. He walked over to Colin Creevey, and leaned over, whispering to him. "Have you seen Harry?"
"No, I haven't," Colin said loudly, ignoring Ron's frantic gestures to keep it down. "You don't think the monster has him, too?" The students, who up until now had seemed to be calming down, showed a sudden wave of agitation. The thought that Harry Potter might have fallen to a monstrous creation was more than most Gryffindors wanted to bear.
Ron hoped Colin was wrong, but it would scarcely be any worse than the situation now. He had been waiting at the dinner table for Hermione and Ginny to return from a trip to the powder room, after Harry had announced that he'd be skipping dinner and going straight to bed, so he would be rested for the next day's end of term finals. The girls had been gone an awfully long time, before feminine shrieks alerted the Great Hall that something was wrong. Ron had looked for them frantically, but had found no sign of them. Then he had come up here, looking for his friend, the one with the hero thing, and found nothing.
The Professors had already herded all of the remaining students into their common rooms. Ron didn't notice anyone else missing. The word from the other students was that something had smashed through the wetwall in ladies' room on the Second Floor. Whatever it was, it had grabbed several students -- stories ranged from two to a hundred -- before leaving again.
McGonagall reentered the room, looking concerned. Ron walked up to her, and said quickly, "Where's Harry?"
She looked surprised, "Isn't he here?"
"No, Professor," Ron answered, "he's not. He had told me that he was going to bed early, but the curtains were drawn, and he's not there."
McGonagall was visibly disturbed. She asked, "Did you happen to notice if his broom was gone?"
"It was still in the closet in the dormitory, Professor," Ron answered. "Do you think the thing has him?"
"I hope not," she said, "but if it does, there will at least be time to rescue him. From what Hagrid has been able to research on the Arachneataur, it is highly unlikely that it will eat any of its victims until they have had a chance to age for at least one night."
"I will consult with Dumbledore," she pronounced, and she turned and left immediately.
Somehow, Ron failed to feel better. He knew he had to find Harry. While it might be better to wait for the Professors, this seemed like the kind of threat that the Boy Who Lived could handle. There wasn't anything ambiguous - Boy, meet Spider. Boy, kill Spider. Not even a rogue House-Elf could mess that up. Unfortunately, the Boy Who Lived wasn't around.
Ron went back up to the bedroom and started looking through Harry's trunk. The first thing he noticed was a small key, which he'd never noticed before. It was tied to a note, which just said "For Arthur Weasley." Strange, what would Harry be doing with a key with his father's name on it?
He looked closer -- it was a vault key. Probably, he thought, Harry's vault key. He looked some more through the chest. Ron saw three envelopes, one each addressed to him, Hermione, and Ginny. That was definitely not a good sign.
Ron opened his quickly, and skimmed through it. It was a goodbye -- Harry was going after Voldemort, and he was doing it alone. Ron felt personally offended. It was part of his job to be there, trying to prevent Harry from doing anything stupid. How dare Harry go off without him?
Well, no help for it now. The Marauder's Map wasn't in the box, so he couldn't use it to figure out if Harry was still on the grounds. He had to hope that Harry hadn't gotten far, though. Ron knew that Harry could face the spider, and that he would be able to rescue Ginny and Hermione. He always had before. On impulse, as he walked out of the bedroom, Ron grabbed the Beater's Bat that Hermione had given him for his birthday from his chest, and thrust it into his pocket.
Ron wished that Harry had left behind his Invisibility Cloak, but he figured he would just have to slip out somehow. It turned out to be far easier than he thought it would -- with McGonagall gone, no one was keeping an eye on the door. Everyone was far more concerned with the walls, floors, and closets.
As Ron passed the Fat Lady, she commented to him, "Shouldn't you stay inside?"
"I'm looking for Harry," he called back, "I need his help."
"You'll have a hard time finding him," she said.
Ron stopped, and walked back towards her painting. He asked, "What do you know?"
"Merely that Mister Potter left well before dinner. I didn't see him, of course, under the cloak, but he's the only one I know of in Gryffindor who has one."
"Great," Ron said. "I don't suppose you heard him say anything about where he was going?"
"No, but I did hear him say something about a pear," she answered dubiously.
"Thanks, he was probably going to the kitchens. I'll see you later," Ron waved good-bye.
"Good luck!" she called after him, but he was soon out of sight.
He ran down to the passage to the kitchens, and tickled the pear to enter. He heard a loud wailing up ahead, along with a rhythmic thumping. He entered the kitchen to find Dobby smashing his head against the wall, screaming as he did, with Winky standing next to him, looking bewildered and fairly tipsy.
Ron walked up to Dobby, and put his hand on the house-elf's shoulder. He had to kneel to reach that low. "Dobby, stop it. Dobby. DOBBY!"
The third time he heard his name, Dobby stopped, and turned towards Ron. His huge eyes were filled with tears, and there was a huge bruise on his shiny forehead. The house-elf's pointy ears drooped lower than Ron had ever seen them. "Dobby couldn't stop him, sir. Dobby tried to tell him, sir. Dobby is so sad."
"Dobby couldn't help it, I'm sure. I mean, you couldn't help it. Please, just tell me what happened," Ron said.
"Wheezy is so nice, sir, but Dobby knows that it is his fault. Harry Potter came here to get some food for traveling, and made us promise not to tell that he had gone, sir." Dobby's eyes grew even wider. "And now I've told! Dobby must punish himself."
Ron grabbed him, "I already knew he left, so you didn't tell me anything. You don't have to punish yourself this time. I would be interested in knowing when he left and where exactly he was going, if you can tell me without putting your head in the oven."
Dobby looked indignant, "Dobby would never put his head in the oven, sir. That would spoil the nice dinner, sir. If you know he is going, sir, you must know where he has gone to."
"To find He Who Must Not Be Named, I know. But did he say where he was going?"
"No, sir, Harry Potter did not. He said that he would most likely not be back, sir. Dobby could have stopped him, sir, but Dobby couldn't stop Harry Potter, sir, because Dobby couldn't hurt Harry Potter's feelings, sir."
Ron didn't gain much else from his conversation with the house-elf, beyond a headache and a bag of munchies. Harry had left before dinner - that was probably at least two hours ago. He could be anywhere by now, although without his broom, he was probably still close enough for Ron to catch up with him.
Ron thought of one other person he could ask. He snuck out of Hogwarts; not difficult, with all of the Professors concentrating on finding Harry, except for those that were guarding the common rooms. As soon as he was on the grounds, Ron made his way to the one other person that Harry might confide in -- Hagrid.
He rapped on the door, and it opened quickly. Hagrid looked enraged. He had a large staff in his hands, and he had already started to swing it before he checked his swing. "Oh, it's just you Ron. Come in, then."
"What's with the stick?" Ron asked.
"Can't be too careful, with that big spider running around. I'm sorry about Hermione and Ginny, Ron, I just heard from Dumbledore. That thing's no end of trouble. Even Aragog's upset. Durn thing's poaching on his territory, it is. Hardly any meat to find."
"It's in the forest?"
"Sure it is. Got a big cave, it does, just came unsealed last year. Just past where Aragog used to lair."
"You know where it is? You know, and no one's there, helping them out?"
"Shouldn't have said that," Hagrid said, holding his hand to his beard-covered chin. "Just forget I said anything, Ron. I'm sure yer worried about yer friends, but there's naught you can do 'bout them right now. Just let Headmaster Dumbledore take care of everything."
"I can't," Ron replied, "What if he can't do everything? What if he won't? He's more worried about Harry than Hermione, and I don't think he will do anything."
Hagrid looked angry, "You should know better than that, Ron. I know yer hurting, but you can't question Dumbledore."
"Why not?" Ron asked, petulant, although it occurred to him that angering a half-giant might not be the smartest thing to do.
"BECAUSE!" Hagrid shouted back, and then struggled to control himself. "Because you shouldn't ought to talk about things that you don't know about. That's all I'm saying." Hagrid turned his back on Ron, and waited for him to leave.
A/N: I was going to put a joke in -- have Lavender ask if that was a Beater's Bat in his pocket, etc. I just couldn't work one in, though. You can feel free to supply your own instead.