Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor
Chapter Eleven : Back to the Castle
You speak of courage. Obviously you do not know the difference between courage and foolhardiness. Always it is the brave ones who die, the soldiers. -- Kor, the Klingon Commander, "Errand of Mercy", stardate 3201.7
Ron, exhausted, shoved the main door to Hogwarts open. The floating, unconscious bodies of Hermione and Ginny preceded him into the entranceway. As he stepped into the entrance, he heard a gasp from inside. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the lighting, but when they had, he could see that he was not alone. A number of the Hogwarts Professors were standing there, as was Harry.
"Harry!" Ron shouted.
"Hullo, Ron," Harry said. He was staring at Ginny. "Is she...is she..." Harry couldn't say it.
"She's alive," Ron confirmed. Professor McGonagall was already in the process of bending over her. "I think she needs Madam Pomfrey to look over her, though." Ron coughed slightly. The fatigue of the evening, and what he had done to himself by pushing himself to the limits, were starting to show.
"I most certainly agree," McGonagall said. "I think that Miss Weasley may make a full recovery, but she will need attention from Madam Pomfrey immediately. I can take care of bringing them from here, Mister Weasley. You should return to your dormitory and get yourself cleaned off. You look like a mess."
Ron nodded impatiently, "What about Hermione?"
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "I'm not sure, Mister Weasley. But I'm certain that Madam Pomfrey will do everything she can. Now, go!"
Ron set the two girls down gently, and Professor McGonagall waved her wand and lifted them back up, swiftly bringing them towards the hospital ward. "Take Mister Potter with you," she said, with an irritated sniff, "and see if you can't talk more sense into him."
Ron and Harry both walked towards the Gryffindor Dormitories. Ron was trying to hurry up -- he hadn't mentioned it to Professor McGonagall, but he was well aware of the coming sunrise. Harry seemed to be dragging his footsteps, however.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron rasped.
"I just hate going back, is all. Sort of defeated," Harry said.
Ron laughed, "Defeated? You're still alive, aren't you?"
"Well, yes. Snape captured me and brought me back before I could find Voldemort." Ron winced at the name, as always. "I was close, though, I can feel it."
"I'm sure the Dark Lord was just shaking in his boots," Ron said, trying not to be entirely sarcastic. "You might want to hold off on talking about it right now, though. I see Malfoy up ahead."
Draco was pacing in one of the hallways. He looked up with surprise at Ron and Harry. "So, you're back. I thought you were off saving the Mudblood. What happened, did you fall in a sewer?"
Ron hadn't realized the figure he cut. His Bat was gone, as was the samurai sword, and the golden tinged armor was hidden by both his dark robes and the accumulated remains of the Arachneataur.
"Hermione's alright, Malfoy," Harry said. "Thanks to Ron."
"Really," Draco drawled, looking at Ron. "What did you do, Weasley? Hold the door for Potter?"
"No," Ron said, looking Draco in the eye. He didn't feel like he was bantering now. He figured he was going to die soon, and that was enough to make him deadly serious. "I crushed the skull of the Dark Lord's plaything."
"You're not serious," Malfoy breathed.
"Entirely," Ron answered, and then he grinned. He couldn't pass up one last chance to pull Draco's chain. He reached a finger up to his chest, and pulled off a gooey sample of monster. "Want some?"
"No, thanks," Malfoy replied. "I think I have somewhere else to be. Have a good night." The Slytherin almost ran down the stairs.
"Good going, Ron," Harry said. "I can't believe how steady you were when you said that. I think he actually believed it."
"Why shouldn't he?" Ron asked. "It's the truth."
"You're kidding. You mean you actually... that gunk on you is... from the spider-thing?"
"Uh-huh," Ron nodded his head. "Which is one reason I would really like to get a shower."
"I won't hold you up," Harry said, and he started almost running for the dormitory. Ron walked quickly, as well. As they approached the Dormitory, Harry tilted his head. "It just occurred to me, what do you think Malfoy was doing out of bounds? Shouldn't he have been in his classroom?"
"I hadn't thought about it," Ron answered. "Maybe you can ask him tomorrow."
"Shouldn't that be a job for a Prefect?" Harry joked.
Ron shrugged, "Maybe, but I don't think I'll be able to do it."
"Why not?" Harry asked.
Ron decided not to explain right now. Harry would probably figure it out soon enough.
Ron tossed his gruesome robe into the laundry hamper. He walked into the shower carrying the armor -- if it could survive a millennium underground, he didn't think one shower would tarnish it. After showering, he put it back on, over a set of clean exercise clothes. Harry was waiting anxiously for him. "I just realized why you were so quiet. Should you be wearing the armor?"
Ron yawned, "I don't think it matters any more. It's almost dawn, anyway."
"How can you be so calm?" Harry almost shouted. "It's your life we're talking about! We need to talk to Dumbledore, or Madam Pomfrey, or someone -- there has to be some way to save you. You can't die." Harry said the last words quietly, and Ron could see tears in the corners of his eyes.
"It doesn't matter," Ron said, "I knew what I was doing. Just tell Hermione something for me, alright?"
"Tell her yourself," Harry said, "I'm not letting you give up. Let's see Dumbledore -- he'll know something to do, I'm sure of it."
"Alright, Harry. I don't mind trying, but if it doesn't work, I just want you to make sure that she knows..." Harry had already marched off. Ron sighed, and took off after him. Harry was almost flying down the hallway. He'd have to hope that Dumbledore could do something, or at least that the Headmaster would give him a quill to write a last note to Hermione.
Ron was entirely too composed about the whole idea of death, he realized. It probably wasn't real to him yet. He'd faced death too many times to believe that this was really it, even though he had believed that he would inevitably die as a result of putting on the armor. At some point, he'd probably start to panic, but he hadn't reached that point yet.
As Ron was hurrying after Harry towards Dumbledore's office, he heard a horrible whining. He probably shouldn't take time for it, he knew, but that didn't stop him. He'd catch up with Harry in a minute.
Ron jogged down the corridor, and looked into the room that was originating the wailing -- which he realized was actually someone's idea of singing, not actually crying. It was coming from one of the guest quarters. Ron looked around the corner. He saw Valentin Vrag hurriedly packing, while singing something that was either a funeral dirge or Bulgarian pop music.
"Going somewhere, Vrag?"
"Ahh, Mister Weasley. You are wearing the Armor! I suppose you know what fate awaits you."
"Of course," Ron said, "but it was worth it. How did you know about the Armor?"
"I heard about it on my Grandvater's knee," Valentin said, "when you were not yet born. I had hoped, myself, to see it one day, and now I have."
"So, where are you going?"
"Your semester is almost over, Mister Weasley. I feel that I have seen all that I need to see."
Ron saw a canister poking out of his bag, labeled in a foreign tongue. The label pictured a spider, with a circle around it and a line through it. "You brought that with you from Bulgaria?"
"Yes, Mister Weasley, I did."
"But that was before we'd heard of the Arachneataur. How did you know you would need it? What did you have to do with the Spider?" Ron hadn't moved towards Vrag, but he didn't need to move to be intimidating.
"It probably does no harm to tell you," Vrag said. He nodded his head towards the window. The first signs of false dawn were appearing. Ron didn't have much time left, but he waved his hand at Valentin Vrag to continue.
"I had heard from an old friend that the Arachneataur was to be loosed on the campus this year. I heard after I had already made my own arrangements, so it was too late for me to back out without drawing suspicion. The spider was intended to help even the score, by eliminating some of Mister Potter's friends. That is why it struck at you, first, and at your sister and friend."
"What about Mrs. Norris?"
Vrag shrugged, "I believe that she was just a snack."
"Why hadn't we seen the Arachneataur before?"
"It was confined in its cavern, until the Heir of Slytherin found the words to open it."
Ron had just about all the answers now, but the false dawn was rapidly giving way to the real one. He had, he judged, about a half hour until true dawn arrived. "Stay here," he commanded. "I'll get Dumbledore."
"Certainly, Mister Weasley," Vrag said, but he turned back to his suitcase, and started packing again. "You had better hurry," the Bulgarian admonished.
Ron turned, and ran for Dumbledore's office, catching up with Harry just outside the door. "Jellied Spam," Harry said, having been trusted with the password. He turned to Ron. "Where were you?"
"Confronting Vrag," he said, "he knew about the spider, but he wasn't behind it. Look, Harry, I've got less than a half an hour left. You've got to tell Hermione..."
"Later," Harry said, impatiently. "We've got to get to the Headmaster's Office."
He stepped onto the stairs, and Ron followed. Ron wondered if there was a chance that he could come back as a ghost - at least then, maybe he could get a message to Hermione.