DISCLAIMER – As per usual, nothing belongs to me, save the plot. The plot! It's mine!! MINE!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA *blinks* will continue to write now. That was a momentary flash of mad genius. Or maybe just mad. I don't see no genius in here. Ok, will stop babbling now. ^-^
AUTHOR'S NOTE – To Aida, Jas, and all the people who are reading this, THANK YOU!!!!!!! And I will try to make this story worth your time. So please review!!! Please!! Reward me for waking up at the ungodly hour of 8 in the morning to type out the plot bunny that attacked me last night! In my sleep, no less. Unrelenting plot bunny. Go check out Aida's stuff under the penname Calex, or Darryl Turner in Cauldron. She's really good! Really. Trust me. Go and read her stuff….. You won't be disappointed. But read this story first!! Lolz….
RATING – Um… maybe PG-13 for language? Mild violence? That's just to be safe.
//////////It is drizzling, a fine sheet of rain falls from the heavens. The gods are crying, I whisper softly, soft enough for only me to hear. It was something my grandmother used to say whenever it rained, it was a ritual for us. Now I say it to calm myself, to remain steady in the battle that will soon commence. The smell of damp earth permeates the air, reminds me of the autumns I used to love, the reds, golds, russets, and browns of my favourite season. Now, my favourite season is winter. Grim, foreboding winter, not the merry, cheerful, white Christmases I used to enjoy. The cold numbs the pain that gnaws at the black hole where I used to have a heart. Now, nothing of the old me is left. All traces of the boy who used to laugh, play, shout, scream, have temper tantrums, have emotions, are all gone.
Gone.
Now I stand here, waiting to launch my greatest attack on Hogwart's. My alma mater. Do I feel remorse? Once upon a time I would have. Now? No. Nothing. Nada…//////////
He stood outside Hogwarts, his black cloak whipping around in the stiff breeze that blew through the trees of the Forbidden Forest. He could smell the magic in the breeze, could taste it. It was Dark magic; it was blowing in his favour. He smiled. This battle would end in another victory for the Dark side. He looked up at the stone gargoyles adorning the front gate. They bared their fangs, snarled menacingly. He raised an eyebrow in response, tapped a foot impatiently. He was waiting for the signal that the wards surrounding Hogwarts were gone, and he could storm the castle and take them all by surprise. Well not by surprise, really, seeing that there were 50 odd Death-eaters behind him, each with wand at the ready, waiting to get themselves a little piece of glory. But he was nothing if not a master strategist, and victory would be theirs tonight.
//////////Ah, the little Warriors of Light are all hiding within the castle walls like damsels in distress. 'Warriors' my arse. Look at them, no strategy whatsoever. If there's one thing I appreciate in an army, it's a good strategy plan. In a war, you should always plan three steps ahead of your opponents. It's like a good game of chess. If you don't plan ahead, you lose. And in this 'game', you die. Plan, strategise. Those are the key words. Without them, entire civilisations would've gone to ruin. And I pride myself on being a master strategist. One of the very best in the field – //////////
His musings were cut off by a buzzing sound that was coming from a silver band on his wrist. The signal. He turned to the expectant faces of the Death-eaters, each one of them waiting eagerly for their part in the bloodshed.
"Charge!!"
And with one word, the battle started.
The gates opened easily, letting a wave of black-cloaked figures into the grounds of Hogwarts. One of them sounded a battle cry, which the others took up. The huge door was forced open.
And there stood Harry Potter, his green eyes blazing with proud Gryffindor courage. Whipping out a wand, he fired hexes and curses, ducking and rolling with his Seeker reflexes as a barrage of curses headed his way.
//////////Poor fool. Does he honestly think that he alone can stop us? Puh-leeeze. Where are your loyal supporters now, Potter? Why are you the one defending the doors? Alone, no less. Why are the people who supposedly care for you not here? Why are you the one guarding the doors while they quake in their shoes and pray that you don't fall? But you will. And you will all die.//////////
He drew closer, facing Harry. He smiled as he slowly took off his mask, uncovering his face. Harry stared at him, no doubt wondering what on earth was wrong with this particular Death-eater. The mask came off, fell to the ground. Harry's green eyes widened slightly.
"R-ron?"
Ron curved his lips into a bitter rictus of a smile.
"Hello, Harry. Missed me?"
Harry stared. Ron was a Death-eater? Ron???? Impossible! Ron was always so… upright. But here he was, in the flesh. Ron, in Death-eater robes. Harry shut his eyes for a moment, hoping, no, praying that this was all a nightmare, that he would wake up soon. Or a joke. He opened his eyes, scanned the horizon for Fred and George to pop up, grinning like idiots. But it was all moot. The hatred burning in Ron's ice-blue eyes was real. Wait. Hatred?
"Why?"
Ron threw his head back and laughed. And laughed. The sound of his laughter echoed eerily as his shoulders shook with some sort of demonic mirth. His hood fell back, his red hair glinting in the light of the torches scattered around. He raised his arms to run a hand through his hair and as he did so, the sleeve of his robes fell back, revealing his arm. Harry gasped in horror. Ron's arms were criss-crossed with scars, some old, some still in the early stages of healing. He reached out to touch them, but Ron snatched his arm back scowling.
"Ron, what happened? You just disappeared that day. We all thought you were dead!"
Ron looked up from rearranging his sleeve just so, and sneered in contempt.
"Why, Harry. I didn't know you cared. As a matter of fact, Ron Weasley did die on that day. He's been dead ever since."
//////////I still remember the day I took the mark. It was after days or was it weeks? of torture, to see if I was truly loyal. It almost broke my mind, and I know my body took weeks to heal. I still have the scars. Look, Harry, look what you drove me to do. All these scars, I keep them to remind me that friends like you are worse than enemies. You always had all the glory, had all the fame. I was just your loyal sidekick, the backup. Look at me now! Successful, much better off than when I was a child and still young and foolishly idealistic. I own a home, I am the right hand man of the Dark Lord, I am trusted implicitly. Sometimes, you just have to sacrifice some things to reap greater rewards, don't you think?I was unemotional earlier today. Now, I feel like a seething mass of anger, just waiting to blow my top. Damn you!//////////
Harry shook his head slowly.
"What did they do to you Ron?
Ron took a trembling step forward. He was angry. So angry. How dare he pretend to care? He never did before.
"Nothing I didn't ask for."
It was bitten out, harsh.
Harry reached out his hand.
"Come on, Ron. Come back to me, to all of us. We still care for you. We won't question you. Please?"
POW!
And Harry was on the ground, nose bleeding profusely as he stared blankly up at Ron, who was massaging his fist.
"Wha –?"
Ron stood over Harry, his still rather freckled face mottled red in his anger.
"Listen to me, Harry, and listen to me good. You pushed me away. You were never there for me when I needed you, never helped me up when I was down. But when you were hurt, it was like the end of the world! Oooh… hero in pain!" He curled his lip in revulsion. "After awhile I decided that was enough, you know? The straw that broke the camel's back was two years ago when you got engaged to Hermione. You knew I loved her! You knew it! But you had to take her away. Why, Harry? Why?"
The last word came out as a keening wail. Harry winced as he pushed himself off the ground.
"Ron…"
Ron looked at him calmly, but for some reason, the lack of emotion in his eyes was more fear-inspiring than the anger he displayed earlier. Harry shivered slightly; this wasn't the Ron he knew. This Ron was a zombie, thriving on hate.
"No, Harry. There are no more words to be spoken between us. This ends now."
Ron took out his wand and aimed it at Harry.
"Take out your wand, Harry."
Harry pulled his wand out reluctantly.
"Ron, we don't have to do this. Please, Ron –"
"Crucio!"
Harry collapsed onto the ground, screaming. The only thought that flitted through his head was of a memory that you have a virulent hatred inside you to be able to make it hurt that much.
//////////Look at you, screaming like a girl on the ground, at my feet. The great Harry Potter. Hah. I could just finish you of here, you know. But I wont. Let this be a fight to the death. One of us will die here today, and I hope it's you.//////////
Abruptly, the pain coursing through Harry's nervous system stopped. He opened his eyes and got to his feet shakily.
"Alright Ron, if this is what you want, so be it."
And it started. Lightning flashed in the sky as the former best mates battled. Curses, and hexes flew through the air, along with screams as a particularly painful one hit its intended target.
As they dueled, flashbacks filled their minds.
Harry and Ron on the train, the first time they met.
Ron screamed as he felt his insides being eaten up from the inside out.
Harry being rescued in Arthur's flying Ford.
Harry fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
Meeting Sirius in the Shrieking Shack.
Blood stained their robes as they circled each other warily.
Laughing in the rain as they headed back to Gryffindor tower after a good game of Quidditch.
"Avada Kedavra."
Ron stood, impassive, as the pouring rain plastered his hair to his skull, dripped off the end of his nose. He looked down at the face of Harry Potter, his green eyes glazed in death. Who knew that in the end it would be Ron Weasley, loyal sidekick extraordinaire, who would be Harry's downfall?
He got onto his knees, closed Harry's eyes.
And never got up again.
Watching the two opponents, together again in death, Voldemort smiled. The Weasley boy had served his purpose, and well. But all things had a use-by date, and Ron had just reached his.
~Fin~
Um…. review? Please?
~nicki~