Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor

Chapter Twelve : The Heir of Gryffindor

Nature abhors a hero. For one thing, he violates the law
of conservation of energy. For another, how can it be the
survival of the fittest when the fittest keeps putting
himself in situations where he is most likely to be creamed?
 -- Solomon Short

The Headmaster's Office looked the same as it always had. Fawkes trilled quietly from his perch, delighted to see Harry once again, although he was more concerned with keeping Ron from falling out of his seat. A Pensieve gleamed from inside a cabinet, and pictures snored, almost in tune with one another. Ron wasn't sure what to feel - elation, at having saved his sister's life, or fear, at perhaps having ended his own.

Dumbledore entered the room quietly, still in a dressing gown. "So, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter. Have you come to see me about the House Points? The teachers are beginning to complain - they fear that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw may try to resort to violence, in order to emulate your annual pattern."

"No, Headmaster! I mean, we're not here for points. Anyway, Slytherin's behind right now, and that's all that matters," Ron said, starting to babble. "No, we're here because, well..."

"The Armor, of course. Quite dashing, indeed. It looks almost like you were meant to wear it. In fact, I suggest that you do keep it. I'm certain that Miss Granger will approve of the way it looks."

"She will? I can? It does? I mean, I was? But I thought that Harry... I mean, we all know what he's meant to do, and Hermione said she found out about the Potters, that they were, well, Godric and all."

There was a look of sadness in Dumbledore's eye. "Mr. Weasley, I cannot believe you of all people would fall victim to such an error."

Ron looked confused. "But, I thought you said I could keep it? I mean, what did I do this time?"

Dumbledore sighed, "You've made a grave error, an error that I might have expected from a Slytherin."

Ron was apoplectic. "What? I mean... I wasn't trying to get the Armor for myself, or trying to be sneaky, or anything. I didn't know that the Armor would work or anything... I just figured, there was no way that Harry could get to it in time. I mean, I know he's the Heir. Why didn't... I mean, why am I?"

"Still alive?" The Headmaster spoke up. "Your error was not putting on the Armor -- your error was in thinking that Mr. Potter was the Heir."

Harry spoke up, "Does that mean that I'm not descended from Godric Gryffindor?"

"No, Harry, it doesn't mean that. I am no more certain of the ancestry of the Potters than any other scholar. But you are thinking in the wrong terms. Remember, Harry, what I told you, when you asked if perhaps you were in the wrong house?"

Harry didn't look like he understood, but he remembered Dumbledore's words. "You told me that I was a Gryffindor because I chose to be."

"That's right, Harry. The preoccupation with a wizard's parents was always a characteristic of Salazar Slytherin. Godric Gryffindor would never have made something that depended on blood. Mr. Weasley, you are Godric Gryffindor's heir. Not because you are related to him by blood - although it might explain a few things -- but because you chose to save your friends, even at the risk of your own life. Had circumstances tonight been different, I imagine that Mister Potter could have easily been the heir, at least so far as the armor was concerned. Even Miss Weasley or Miss Granger could have qualified, although I imagine that they would have had difficulty wearing the armor."

Ron nodded his head, finding it difficult to keep it erect. The exhaustion of the past days had taken its toll, and as he now felt sure that he was not going to drop dead in the next few moments, he felt the adrenaline high begin to vanish. Harry, picking up on the cue, grabbed him under his arm, and helped him out of the chair. "Come on, Ron, let's check on Ginny."

"One more thing," Ron said, "Why did the Chamber of Bravery open for me? I can't have been the first person to say something brave in a room in the Astronomy Tower."

"Hardly," Albus agreed, "In fact, I caught Mister Vrag in the tower the other day, saying the most alarming things. I made him go to Madame Pomfrey's immediately. No, it wasn't the words alone that made the room open; it was also the emotion behind it. I'm not sure if Harry ever told you of the enchantment I had put on the Mirror of Erised?" Ron nodded, and the Headmaster continued, "Well, there was something similar in place there. Along with Bravery, the one looking for the Chamber would need a certain amount of desperation, and, dare I say it, love. They would also need to know that the Chamber existed, which I believe fairly few people have ever known. Now, I believe that it is time for the young hero to see to the people he has rescued."

Ron stood up. He noticed a look on Harry's face, a look that quickly vanished, but that for a moment looked like fury. A look that, unless Ron was mistaken, was aimed at the Headmaster. It was gone in an instant, though, and Ron couldn't keep focused enough to ask Harry what it was about, as he stumbled along to see Hermione and Ginny.

*~*~*

Hermione lay there on the bed. Her face looked drawn, and there was a streak of white in her hair. She looked like she had lost at least ten pounds in the last day.

Ron sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand. She was so pale, so delicate. He was afraid that she would break if he held her, but he wanted nothing so much as to grab her in his arms and never let her go. He heard people entering the room, but he couldn't take his eyes off her face, until he heard the strangled cry from behind him. He turned around, and he met the eyes of the Grangers.

Ron hadn't seen Hermione's parents since before his second year. He had grown since then, and they had grown older. They both looked frightened, with Professor McGonagall gently guiding them into the room. "There, there," she said, as if she was talking to children, "it looks worse than it is."

Mrs. Granger had her daughter's hair, but it was a dull gray color. She was overcome with emotion, her body shaking. Mister Granger had his arm around her, and was holding her. His face showed no emotion, except deep in his eyes, which Ron could see were filled with pain and anger.

"Are you sure there's nothing more that could be done for them," Mister Granger asked forcefully. "The place where Arthur Weasley was taken, when he was wounded... would they be able to do more?"

"No," Professor McGonagall said, "Madam Pomfrey knows what she is doing with her patients. She fully expects Hermione to wake up in the next few days."

"Will she still be able to sit for her exams?" Hermione's father asked. It seemed cold-hearted of him to be concerned about things like that at a time like this. Ron was going to say something, but he saw Mister Granger trembling. Ron realized that Hermione's father felt like he had to say something, to feel like he still had some control over the situation. He was asking about something trivial precisely because he was so worried.

"She probably could have sat for them months ago," Ron said, inserting himself into the conversation. "I'm sure that when she wakes up, she'll probably grab a pen and start writing for them before she says hullo."

"Ron, isn't it?" Mrs. Granger asked cautiously. "We met a few years ago, but I don't know if you remember."

"Of course I do," Ron said. "I'm glad you were able to come here. After meeting my father, I was afraid you wouldn't want to have anything to do with the wizarding world." He gave a little self-deprecating laugh.

"I understand we have you to thank for saving my daughter," Mister Granger said.

"Yes, sir," Ron answered, "I suppose so. I wish I could have gotten to her sooner, though."

"No one is blaming you, Mister Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "Quite the opposite, in fact. While we wish that you would have involved the teaching staff a little more in your decision, I couldn't be more proud of any of my students right now."

A glint of the rising sun finally made its way through the window. It shone on the golden armor that Ron still wore, illuminating each scale in a play of iridescence. Ron stopped breathing for a moment, waiting for the end to come in spite of Dumbledore's assurances, and in spite of the fact that dawn had actually been a few moments ago.

The end didn't come, though. He breathed again. He had survived, and so had his friends, he hoped. Professor McGonagall left to tend to some of her duties, and Ron ended up conversing with the Grangers for several hours. They talked more over the next three days, and they were all in Hermione's room together when her eyes finally opened. She did not, as Ron had joked, immediately grab her quill and ask for her copy of the exams. First, she hugged Ron and each of her parents. It was only after that, that she asked about exams.