Chapter 4
Ron was tired, he took of his "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" name badge, which flashed different colours, and picked up his stuff.
"Wait!" George shouted after his brother.
"Thought you were in Canada?" Said Ron wearily, his brother was nicely tanned and the number of freckles on his face had doubled. He had a smile on his face. "What are you so happy about?"
"20th Weasley's Wizard Wheezes store is open and running with a dazzling success rate of 2 million witches and wizards clambering into the shop within 2 hours." George sounded as though he were reading from the Daily Prophet.
"I see..... shouldn't you be there then?"
"Fred's keeping an eye on things, I'm making sure all the other stores are ok."
"I have everything under control here thanks very much," said Ron his ears turning pink for the second time that day.
"How's me business been then me old son," said George in a slightly odd accent.
"Fine," Ron said shortly.
"Just fine? Not spectacular or splendid, just fine?" Ron really wasn't in the mood he glared at his brother.
"Ok, ok, it's fine, it's fine, you ok?"
"Fine."
"Just fine? Not spectac-"
"GEORGE!"
"Sorry! Ok going then I can see you desperate to leave."
Ron disapparated and found himself outside of his sister's house next to his small Ford car: Gloom, it lurks in the darkest corners of the world, in anything from caves to cupboards, but where gloom really hangs, where it can really penetrate a human all the way to his soul is where an unspeakable tragedy has occurred. Ron shuddered, he felt that gloom, he felt sadness pouring from the window of the house as though to scare him from it. He slowly walked to the front of the house and found that it stood an inch or two ajar. He pushed the door open: Grief, grief does not lurks as gloom does it slips into one's body as quick as lightening and stings one's heart, grief is felt before shock, only in a small dose which mingles with shock to produce denial. Ron looked at the white body of his daughter, he saw her closed eyes and red hair, he saw his sister sobbing next to her, he saw Neville Longbottom crying quietly on the staircase.
"Ron-" Harry stood up, "Ron we couldn't find you, there were no owls, there was no time."
Ron didn't hear him; he heard echoes as though they were bouncing off an invisible wall around him. He bent close to his daughter and felt her face; the coldness of her skin sent a sickening wave of realisation down his spine.
"How," Ron choked the word out desperately in fear of the sound of his voice, the sound was deafening to him.
"There was an acci-" Harry started.
"It was me," sobbed Neville from the shadowy staircase. "It was me, the plants, I thought she'd like them, she touched the...the-"
"Cerebriks" Ginny took over as Neville broke down into fresh tears. "It was quick Ron, she didn't feel anyth-"
"Does Hermione know? Cathy! Where's Cathy?" Ron started charging through the house. "Catherine? Cathy?"
"She's sleeping Ron!" Harry grabbed Ron's arm to stop him from breaking the door to the living room down. "Let her sleep, she's cried enough"
"No, no," Ron broke down and kneeled next to his dead baby. "No." And he cried, he cried forever, or maybe just a minute, no one could ever know, especially not him.
Ron was tired, he took of his "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" name badge, which flashed different colours, and picked up his stuff.
"Wait!" George shouted after his brother.
"Thought you were in Canada?" Said Ron wearily, his brother was nicely tanned and the number of freckles on his face had doubled. He had a smile on his face. "What are you so happy about?"
"20th Weasley's Wizard Wheezes store is open and running with a dazzling success rate of 2 million witches and wizards clambering into the shop within 2 hours." George sounded as though he were reading from the Daily Prophet.
"I see..... shouldn't you be there then?"
"Fred's keeping an eye on things, I'm making sure all the other stores are ok."
"I have everything under control here thanks very much," said Ron his ears turning pink for the second time that day.
"How's me business been then me old son," said George in a slightly odd accent.
"Fine," Ron said shortly.
"Just fine? Not spectacular or splendid, just fine?" Ron really wasn't in the mood he glared at his brother.
"Ok, ok, it's fine, it's fine, you ok?"
"Fine."
"Just fine? Not spectac-"
"GEORGE!"
"Sorry! Ok going then I can see you desperate to leave."
Ron disapparated and found himself outside of his sister's house next to his small Ford car: Gloom, it lurks in the darkest corners of the world, in anything from caves to cupboards, but where gloom really hangs, where it can really penetrate a human all the way to his soul is where an unspeakable tragedy has occurred. Ron shuddered, he felt that gloom, he felt sadness pouring from the window of the house as though to scare him from it. He slowly walked to the front of the house and found that it stood an inch or two ajar. He pushed the door open: Grief, grief does not lurks as gloom does it slips into one's body as quick as lightening and stings one's heart, grief is felt before shock, only in a small dose which mingles with shock to produce denial. Ron looked at the white body of his daughter, he saw her closed eyes and red hair, he saw his sister sobbing next to her, he saw Neville Longbottom crying quietly on the staircase.
"Ron-" Harry stood up, "Ron we couldn't find you, there were no owls, there was no time."
Ron didn't hear him; he heard echoes as though they were bouncing off an invisible wall around him. He bent close to his daughter and felt her face; the coldness of her skin sent a sickening wave of realisation down his spine.
"How," Ron choked the word out desperately in fear of the sound of his voice, the sound was deafening to him.
"There was an acci-" Harry started.
"It was me," sobbed Neville from the shadowy staircase. "It was me, the plants, I thought she'd like them, she touched the...the-"
"Cerebriks" Ginny took over as Neville broke down into fresh tears. "It was quick Ron, she didn't feel anyth-"
"Does Hermione know? Cathy! Where's Cathy?" Ron started charging through the house. "Catherine? Cathy?"
"She's sleeping Ron!" Harry grabbed Ron's arm to stop him from breaking the door to the living room down. "Let her sleep, she's cried enough"
"No, no," Ron broke down and kneeled next to his dead baby. "No." And he cried, he cried forever, or maybe just a minute, no one could ever know, especially not him.