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Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.
.
The next morning arrived all too soon. Much too soon for Harry's liking. He kept his eyes closed for a minute, wishing that he could do something to help his son. He was very worried, and he didn't want Ron to get hurt, though that wasn't likely that Ron wouldn't get hurt. Harry just hoped that the Death Eaters wouldn't kill his son. He wouldn't be able to cope with it, with the grief of the loss. Stop thinking about that, Harry told himself. He rolled over, and snatched his glasses from the bedside table, and put them on.
Everything at once came into clearer focus. Harry looked over at Hermione, who was lying fast asleep, beside him. Harry noted how very beautiful she looked. All the lines of worry were gone from Hermione's face; instead, there was a slight smile. This gladdened Harry's heart; at least his wife was having a good dream, at least she didn't have the worries she did when she was awake. But Harry knew that would change once Hermione actually did wake up; all the lines of worry would come back, not to leave until Hermione again went to sleep.
Harry got up from the bed as quietly as he could and got dressed. He tried to tame his hair with a comb, but his attempt was fruitless. He knew that he was a Metamorphagus, but he just didn't have the energy to change his appearance, so he gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek, and tip-toed out of the room, taking care not to make a sound as he closed the door. He went down the stairs, and into the basement kitchen, where he found Mrs. Weasley already up and making breakfast.
"Good morning, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, as she slid some scrambled eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast onto a plate. "Here's your breakfast."
Harry wasn't really hungry, but didn't feel like arguing. He sat down at the table, and Mrs. Weasley placed Harry's breakfast in front of him. Being thirty-three years old, it felt a little odd to him that Mrs. Weasley hadn't asked him whether he wanted breakfast or not, before actually making it. He felt as though Mrs. Weasley was treating him like a child. But then Harry dismissed the thought, considering it to be too trivial in comparison to his son getting kidnapped. So instead, Harry began on his bacon.
"Is Hermione still asleep?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Yes," replied Harry. He didn't really feel like talking, but he wanted to know whether or not anyone at the Ministry had picked up any clues as to where his son might be. "Any news from the Ministry about Ron?"
"No. No, there isn't," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry sighed. "But I'm sure they'll let us know, as soon as they do find anything," she added.
"If they find anything."
Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to say something more, but then closed it. She went back to the stove.
Harry looked at his half-eaten breakfast. Deciding he couldn't eat anymore, he got up from the table. He needed some time alone...to think...
"I'm going upstairs," said Harry. He didn't wait for a response, and headed back up to the ground floor. He had just reached the first floor, when he saw Hermione coming down from the second floor. She had already gotten dressed. "Morning, Mione."
Hermione looked up and smiled sadly.
"Mrs. Weasley made breakfast for you," Harry continued. "If you're hungry, that is..."
"Yeah, I am a little hungry," she said quietly. She seemed to be taking the news of Ron's kidnapping very hard. She came up to Harry, and gave him a hug. When she pulled away, Harry could see tears starting at her eyes.
"Hermione, I'm sure he's fine," said Harry. "Ron's a tough kid."
"I know..." Hermione sniffed. Harry kissed her softly on the lips.
"Now you go down and get something to eat," said Harry, giving Hermione a little push in the right direction.
With a last, sad smile at harry, she went down the stairs, leaving Harry alone on the first floor. Harry watched her go, and then turned his attention to a set of double doors, beyond which lay the parlour in which he, the Weasley's, and Hermione had once spent an afternoon de-Doxying the curtains. Harry went into the parlour, and closed the doors behind him. Seeing a couch in the middle of the room, he made his way toward it, and then sat down, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his face in his hands.
He really did wish he could do something to help his son, but unfortunately he couldn't think of anything. He thought of appealing to Dumbledore, but knew that that attempt would be fruitless. Harry sighed. He remembered how he had felt when his best friend, Ron Weasley, had died. He felt now just how he had felt when that had happened, when Ron Weasley had died in his arms. Harry remembered how he had vowed to avenge his death.
Harry looked up at the tapestry of the Black family tree. Then the death of his godfather, Sirius Black, came back to him. Harry remembered seeing the look on Sirius's wasted, once handsome face as he had fallen through the veil. He remembered how he had felt when that had happened, like a piece of himself had just...disappeared. Harry remembered the horror and grief of it all. Luckily, though, he had his friends to help him deal with the loss. Harry had also vowed to avenge Sirius's death.
It all came down to Voldemort, though. It was all his fault that this had happened, that Ron and Sirius had died. Of course, now Voldemort was dead, so luckily he couldn't cause anymore grief to anyone else. Harry leaned back, but then instantly sat up straight.
Voldemort! His real name had been Tom Riddle, named after his father...Voldemort's father had lived in a mansion in Little Hangleton! Maybe that's where his, Harry's, son was being held! Harry stared at the Black family tree, excitement and hope coursing through him. Of course, it was very logical, for the Death Eater to go there! Very logical, indeed. Then a sudden idea came to Harry. He would go and rescue his son, it didn't matter what Dumbledore said. But Harry thought of his two daughters...and of Hermione...what would they think? Harry reasoned that they would be happy, having Ron Potter back with them. Harry stood up from the couch and headed out of the room. It was settled. He would go and rescue his son. Tonight.
.
It was morning, and a beam of sunlight was laying across Ron's face. He rolled over, intending to close the curtains of his four poster bed, but all he could grab was air. He fell over, and felt himself fall onto a hard, stone floor. His eyes snapped open, and in a rush everything came back to him. He had been kidnapped by the Death Eaters, had his wand taken away, locked in a cell, tortured... Ron shuddered at the memory of having the Cruciatus Curse put on him. It had been pain beyond all imagining. And he had been put through it twice, and as a result, his every limb was sore and aching. And sleeping on the hard, stone bed didn't help.
Ron gingerly picked himself up from the floor, and sat down on the stone bed. He leaned back and closed his eyes. His stomach growled with hunger. He hadn't had anything to eat since he and Kelsey had been at Hagrid's the night before, and he had only eaten three caramel apples. Ron wondered when he was going to get his breakfast, and what he would get to eat. Knowing the Death Eaters, they would only give him some meager meal, consisting of perhaps a small slice of stale bread and a small slice of cheese and a small glass of water. Speaking of Death Eaters...
Ron distinctly heard one...no, two...pairs of feet walking toward his cell. He could hear them echoing off of the stone floor. His spirits rose only very slightly at the thought that he might be getting breakfast. Bellatrix and Rodolphus came into view, and much to Ron's disappointment, neither of them had any food.
"What, no breakfast?" said Ron, standing up.
"Obviously," said Bellatrix in a mean voice.
Rodolphus unlocked the cell door, and he and Bellatrix came inside.
"Then why did you come here?" said Ron, looking up at them. "To tell me why I was kidnapped?"
"Yes," said Rodolphus. "We figured that your precious father would come after you if you were kidnapped."
"Because my dad is who you really want?"
"You're much smarter than you look," said Rodolphus, staring at Ron with dislike.
"And your dumber than you look," Ron shot back. "And that's saying something!"
Bellatrix shrieked with rage, and Rodolphus punched Ron hard in the stomach. Like he had the night before, Ron fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Bellatrix laughed.
"Hey Rodolphus," said Bellatrix suddenly. "He looks a lot like his father...except the hair..."
"I agree..." said Rodolphus.
There was a short silence, during which Ron caught his breath, and sat down on the stone bed.
"You're pathetic, both of you," said Ron.
"What?" said Bellatrix in anger.
"I called you pathetic," said Ron. "Didn't you hear me? Or have your ears gone deaf?"
"Why you-" Bellatrix slapped him hard across the face. Ron recoiled, and Bellatrix laughed softly.
"Bella, don't," said Rodolphus warningly.
"Why can't I?"
"Because we agreed that I would deal out the...punishments," Rodolphus laid a stress on the word 'punishments', and it made Ron shudder with fear. "And we agreed that you would tell him..."
"Tell me what?" Ron said hoarsely, rubbing the side of his face.
Bellatrix licked her lips in anticipation. "Did you know that you were named after someone that your parents knew?"
"Yes," said Ron.
"Do you know who that person was?"
Ron stared at Bellatrix.
"You were named after your father's best friend, Ronald Weasley," said Bellatrix, sneering. "He died, though, and you precious father was devastated. And would you like to know who killed your father's best friend?"
"Not really," said Ron. But he was a little curious.
"Well, boy, I'm going to tell you anyway," said Bellatrix. "I'm the one who killed him."
Ron's jaw dropped. "You...?"
"Yes, me. And I also killed my cousin, Sirius Black, who happened to be your father's godfather. I wish you could have seen the look on your father's face when I did it," said Bellatrix with relish. "He was so devastated. And he was just your age, too."
Ron stared at Bellatrix, a cold fury coursing through his veins.
"Your father vowed to avenge their deaths, so we figured that kidnapping you was a-"
"SHUT UP!" Ron roared suddenly. He leaped up from where he had been sitting, and flew at Bellatrix, knocking, and pinning, her to the floor. "YOU'RE MAD, AN EVIL, TWISTED...YOU'VE RUINED MY FATHER'S LIFE! I'VE SEEN HIM! HE'S STILL DEVASTATED OVER WHAT YOU DID TO HIM, I SEE HIM WITH TEARS RUNNING DOWN HIS FACE...AND...YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO GO MOCKING HIM! HOW DARE Y-"
Ron was cut off suddenly in the middle of his raving when Rodolphus caught him a good, hard kick in the ribs. Ron rolled onto the floor, clutching his ribs, sure that at least two of them had broken. Suddenly he felt another kick, and heard something crack, no, somethings, crack. Ron screamed in agony.
Bellatrix picked herself up off the floor. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!" She raised her wand. "CRUCIO!"
Ron's yells of pain grew louder. Bellatrix lowered her wand, and Ron's yells stopped.
"Let's go, Rodolphus," said Bellatrix. She and Rodolphus looked at Ron for a second more, smirking at his suffering, and then left.
.
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Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.
.
The next morning arrived all too soon. Much too soon for Harry's liking. He kept his eyes closed for a minute, wishing that he could do something to help his son. He was very worried, and he didn't want Ron to get hurt, though that wasn't likely that Ron wouldn't get hurt. Harry just hoped that the Death Eaters wouldn't kill his son. He wouldn't be able to cope with it, with the grief of the loss. Stop thinking about that, Harry told himself. He rolled over, and snatched his glasses from the bedside table, and put them on.
Everything at once came into clearer focus. Harry looked over at Hermione, who was lying fast asleep, beside him. Harry noted how very beautiful she looked. All the lines of worry were gone from Hermione's face; instead, there was a slight smile. This gladdened Harry's heart; at least his wife was having a good dream, at least she didn't have the worries she did when she was awake. But Harry knew that would change once Hermione actually did wake up; all the lines of worry would come back, not to leave until Hermione again went to sleep.
Harry got up from the bed as quietly as he could and got dressed. He tried to tame his hair with a comb, but his attempt was fruitless. He knew that he was a Metamorphagus, but he just didn't have the energy to change his appearance, so he gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek, and tip-toed out of the room, taking care not to make a sound as he closed the door. He went down the stairs, and into the basement kitchen, where he found Mrs. Weasley already up and making breakfast.
"Good morning, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, as she slid some scrambled eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast onto a plate. "Here's your breakfast."
Harry wasn't really hungry, but didn't feel like arguing. He sat down at the table, and Mrs. Weasley placed Harry's breakfast in front of him. Being thirty-three years old, it felt a little odd to him that Mrs. Weasley hadn't asked him whether he wanted breakfast or not, before actually making it. He felt as though Mrs. Weasley was treating him like a child. But then Harry dismissed the thought, considering it to be too trivial in comparison to his son getting kidnapped. So instead, Harry began on his bacon.
"Is Hermione still asleep?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Yes," replied Harry. He didn't really feel like talking, but he wanted to know whether or not anyone at the Ministry had picked up any clues as to where his son might be. "Any news from the Ministry about Ron?"
"No. No, there isn't," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry sighed. "But I'm sure they'll let us know, as soon as they do find anything," she added.
"If they find anything."
Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to say something more, but then closed it. She went back to the stove.
Harry looked at his half-eaten breakfast. Deciding he couldn't eat anymore, he got up from the table. He needed some time alone...to think...
"I'm going upstairs," said Harry. He didn't wait for a response, and headed back up to the ground floor. He had just reached the first floor, when he saw Hermione coming down from the second floor. She had already gotten dressed. "Morning, Mione."
Hermione looked up and smiled sadly.
"Mrs. Weasley made breakfast for you," Harry continued. "If you're hungry, that is..."
"Yeah, I am a little hungry," she said quietly. She seemed to be taking the news of Ron's kidnapping very hard. She came up to Harry, and gave him a hug. When she pulled away, Harry could see tears starting at her eyes.
"Hermione, I'm sure he's fine," said Harry. "Ron's a tough kid."
"I know..." Hermione sniffed. Harry kissed her softly on the lips.
"Now you go down and get something to eat," said Harry, giving Hermione a little push in the right direction.
With a last, sad smile at harry, she went down the stairs, leaving Harry alone on the first floor. Harry watched her go, and then turned his attention to a set of double doors, beyond which lay the parlour in which he, the Weasley's, and Hermione had once spent an afternoon de-Doxying the curtains. Harry went into the parlour, and closed the doors behind him. Seeing a couch in the middle of the room, he made his way toward it, and then sat down, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his face in his hands.
He really did wish he could do something to help his son, but unfortunately he couldn't think of anything. He thought of appealing to Dumbledore, but knew that that attempt would be fruitless. Harry sighed. He remembered how he had felt when his best friend, Ron Weasley, had died. He felt now just how he had felt when that had happened, when Ron Weasley had died in his arms. Harry remembered how he had vowed to avenge his death.
Harry looked up at the tapestry of the Black family tree. Then the death of his godfather, Sirius Black, came back to him. Harry remembered seeing the look on Sirius's wasted, once handsome face as he had fallen through the veil. He remembered how he had felt when that had happened, like a piece of himself had just...disappeared. Harry remembered the horror and grief of it all. Luckily, though, he had his friends to help him deal with the loss. Harry had also vowed to avenge Sirius's death.
It all came down to Voldemort, though. It was all his fault that this had happened, that Ron and Sirius had died. Of course, now Voldemort was dead, so luckily he couldn't cause anymore grief to anyone else. Harry leaned back, but then instantly sat up straight.
Voldemort! His real name had been Tom Riddle, named after his father...Voldemort's father had lived in a mansion in Little Hangleton! Maybe that's where his, Harry's, son was being held! Harry stared at the Black family tree, excitement and hope coursing through him. Of course, it was very logical, for the Death Eater to go there! Very logical, indeed. Then a sudden idea came to Harry. He would go and rescue his son, it didn't matter what Dumbledore said. But Harry thought of his two daughters...and of Hermione...what would they think? Harry reasoned that they would be happy, having Ron Potter back with them. Harry stood up from the couch and headed out of the room. It was settled. He would go and rescue his son. Tonight.
.
It was morning, and a beam of sunlight was laying across Ron's face. He rolled over, intending to close the curtains of his four poster bed, but all he could grab was air. He fell over, and felt himself fall onto a hard, stone floor. His eyes snapped open, and in a rush everything came back to him. He had been kidnapped by the Death Eaters, had his wand taken away, locked in a cell, tortured... Ron shuddered at the memory of having the Cruciatus Curse put on him. It had been pain beyond all imagining. And he had been put through it twice, and as a result, his every limb was sore and aching. And sleeping on the hard, stone bed didn't help.
Ron gingerly picked himself up from the floor, and sat down on the stone bed. He leaned back and closed his eyes. His stomach growled with hunger. He hadn't had anything to eat since he and Kelsey had been at Hagrid's the night before, and he had only eaten three caramel apples. Ron wondered when he was going to get his breakfast, and what he would get to eat. Knowing the Death Eaters, they would only give him some meager meal, consisting of perhaps a small slice of stale bread and a small slice of cheese and a small glass of water. Speaking of Death Eaters...
Ron distinctly heard one...no, two...pairs of feet walking toward his cell. He could hear them echoing off of the stone floor. His spirits rose only very slightly at the thought that he might be getting breakfast. Bellatrix and Rodolphus came into view, and much to Ron's disappointment, neither of them had any food.
"What, no breakfast?" said Ron, standing up.
"Obviously," said Bellatrix in a mean voice.
Rodolphus unlocked the cell door, and he and Bellatrix came inside.
"Then why did you come here?" said Ron, looking up at them. "To tell me why I was kidnapped?"
"Yes," said Rodolphus. "We figured that your precious father would come after you if you were kidnapped."
"Because my dad is who you really want?"
"You're much smarter than you look," said Rodolphus, staring at Ron with dislike.
"And your dumber than you look," Ron shot back. "And that's saying something!"
Bellatrix shrieked with rage, and Rodolphus punched Ron hard in the stomach. Like he had the night before, Ron fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Bellatrix laughed.
"Hey Rodolphus," said Bellatrix suddenly. "He looks a lot like his father...except the hair..."
"I agree..." said Rodolphus.
There was a short silence, during which Ron caught his breath, and sat down on the stone bed.
"You're pathetic, both of you," said Ron.
"What?" said Bellatrix in anger.
"I called you pathetic," said Ron. "Didn't you hear me? Or have your ears gone deaf?"
"Why you-" Bellatrix slapped him hard across the face. Ron recoiled, and Bellatrix laughed softly.
"Bella, don't," said Rodolphus warningly.
"Why can't I?"
"Because we agreed that I would deal out the...punishments," Rodolphus laid a stress on the word 'punishments', and it made Ron shudder with fear. "And we agreed that you would tell him..."
"Tell me what?" Ron said hoarsely, rubbing the side of his face.
Bellatrix licked her lips in anticipation. "Did you know that you were named after someone that your parents knew?"
"Yes," said Ron.
"Do you know who that person was?"
Ron stared at Bellatrix.
"You were named after your father's best friend, Ronald Weasley," said Bellatrix, sneering. "He died, though, and you precious father was devastated. And would you like to know who killed your father's best friend?"
"Not really," said Ron. But he was a little curious.
"Well, boy, I'm going to tell you anyway," said Bellatrix. "I'm the one who killed him."
Ron's jaw dropped. "You...?"
"Yes, me. And I also killed my cousin, Sirius Black, who happened to be your father's godfather. I wish you could have seen the look on your father's face when I did it," said Bellatrix with relish. "He was so devastated. And he was just your age, too."
Ron stared at Bellatrix, a cold fury coursing through his veins.
"Your father vowed to avenge their deaths, so we figured that kidnapping you was a-"
"SHUT UP!" Ron roared suddenly. He leaped up from where he had been sitting, and flew at Bellatrix, knocking, and pinning, her to the floor. "YOU'RE MAD, AN EVIL, TWISTED...YOU'VE RUINED MY FATHER'S LIFE! I'VE SEEN HIM! HE'S STILL DEVASTATED OVER WHAT YOU DID TO HIM, I SEE HIM WITH TEARS RUNNING DOWN HIS FACE...AND...YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO GO MOCKING HIM! HOW DARE Y-"
Ron was cut off suddenly in the middle of his raving when Rodolphus caught him a good, hard kick in the ribs. Ron rolled onto the floor, clutching his ribs, sure that at least two of them had broken. Suddenly he felt another kick, and heard something crack, no, somethings, crack. Ron screamed in agony.
Bellatrix picked herself up off the floor. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!" She raised her wand. "CRUCIO!"
Ron's yells of pain grew louder. Bellatrix lowered her wand, and Ron's yells stopped.
"Let's go, Rodolphus," said Bellatrix. She and Rodolphus looked at Ron for a second more, smirking at his suffering, and then left.
.
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