Crossing the Rubicon "And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's
In deepest consequence."
Shakespeare Chapter Fourteen
Repercussions and Revelations
"I'm bored."
"And you tell me this...why?"
"Because there's no one else here."
"That isn't my fault; why punish me for it?"
"I'm not punishing you! All I said were two simple words!"
"And now, since saying those two simple words, you have said seventeen more words, all of which are equally annoying me."
"You counted how many words I used? Why would you do such a thing?"
"Because I am bored."
"Are you notholding up? Is that why you can't remember?"
"Er...maybe?"
Cynthia narrowed her eyes, inspecting Ronald from the counter, which she had hoisted herself onto once again. "Ronald, are you sure you don't remember? It seems an awful lot to forget..."
"No, I really can't remember," said Ronald, without emotion.
"Maybe you should lie down or something, if you're not feeling well..." Cynthia seemed nervous, not wanting to say what Ronald was asking of her.
"I'm feeling fine," said Ronald. "It's my memory that needs help. What happened?"
"Erm...I really shouldn't be the one to tell you this. Luna's your girlfriend. Have her tell you."
Luna, of course, didn't know herself so it would be rather difficult to tell someone else. And—
"Luna's not here."
"Um, well, you know. Everything that's happened...it could weigh a lot on her. Your mother. That is."
"Everything what's happened?"
"Ronald," said Cynthia bracingly. "Do you really need to know? I mean, your memory has bound to come back, and it would only do to depress you twice..."
"What would depress me?"
"ThatYou-Know-Whohasbeenpickingyourfamilyofflikeflies," Cynthia said quietly, all in one word.
"First off," said the Wizard, sitting down in a large, hard backed chair that Luna hadn't noticed—he gestured for her to take the other, "you must realise that everything is quite a bit different than it was before the change.
"Certain families," he continued, "certain lives are completely different than they would have been."
Like mine, thought Luna.
"Some people are alive now, and they wouldn't have been before."
Like Mum, thought Luna.
"And some people...well, obviously, there has to be a down side, yes? Some people aren't quite as happy as they were before—but I'm sure you agree it was worth it, yes? A bit of unhappiness never hurt anybody, after all."
"What?" said Ronald, taken aback. Literally, in fact—he had fallen backwards off his chair.
"You-Know-Who's been what?" said Ronald disbelievingly, righting himself and staring at Cynthia.
"You heard," said Cynthia, covering her face with an open cabinet door.
"Who?" said Ronald.
"Your older brothers."
"Which ones?" he asked, head in hands.
Cynthia's voice was barely more than a whisper, and he could hardly hear her.
"All of them."
"What else is different?" asked Luna eagerly.
"Oh—" the Wizard smirked slyly, "—a lot of things are different. You would need to be more specific."
"The Quibbler," she said. "Is there anything different about it?"
"Yes, Jake Petersen is now the Assistant Editor," the Wizard answered. "But does that really matter much? There must be something a bit more personal you wish to know about."
Luna thought for a moment before answering him.
"Ronald's family. What's different about them?"
The Wizard thought a long time about this, as if he was trying to remember exactly what had changed about the Weasleys, and was not having an easy time of it.
Meanwhile, Luna tried to figure out who he looked like. There was a strong resemblance to someone, she just couldn't tell who.
Finally, the Wizard answered.
"Their house isn't nearly as crowded," he said with certainty.
"What?"
"Wait—no! The twins—they're older than you, right?" Ronald nodded. "Then not all of them. My mistake."
Hell of a mistake, Ronald thought.
"Fred and George are still alive?"
Cynthia nodded. Ronald let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.
"So...Bill, Charlie, and Percy are...dead?"
Cynthia nodded sadly, though Ronald could hardly see it, because of the aforementioned cabinet door.
"And Ginny," she added, perhaps thinking he remembered that one.
The look of shock on Ronald's face told her that clearly, he hadn't.
"Maybe if I close my eyes I can imagine I'm with a more companionable companion."
"Maybe if you be quiet you'll remember that this is the second time in a month that I've been stuck with you in a dark room. I personally preferred the last; it was a bit less humiliating."
"Why is it humiliating now?"
"Because, for one, I don't have my wand. I am a prisoner this time. I am sure you would agree that is not a pleasant experience."
"Who would think being a prisoner was a pleasant experience?"
"Exactly; no one. That's why we actually have it in common."
Silence.
"We have other things in common."
"Like what."
"Well, we're both against Voldemort."
"Don't say the name."
"Why?"
"I thought you were supposed to be smart. Did no one ever tell you why we are not supposed to speak the Dark Lord's name?"
"Because...it is feared; but fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself—"
"I see you are partial to quoting Dumbledore. But there is more to it than that. There is deeper magic—ancient magic. It is rarely even thought of as magic anymore."
"What?"
"Speak of the devil and he may appear."
"What—no, that's just a phrase, it's not—"
"It's not what?"
"Magic."
"And what did I just say? It is rarely even thought of as magic. When you speak of someone, deep inside that person, they know you are speaking of them. But most don't even realise it; they do not notice it, buried so deep within.
"But it just so happens, and nobody really knows why, that the darker the wizard—man, I should say really, or person, as some of the darker Muggles have been known to have felt it too—the stronger this sense becomes. And, consequently, as that person is dark, they take notice of it, and they use it to their advantage. They know, subconsciously, where those that fear them wait. It is not as strong as Legilimency, and it is really just a...feeling. But it can be used to the advantage still.
"Speak of the devil and he may appear."
"But Dumbledore...why does Dumbledore say his name, if...if Vold—if the Dark Lord can hear; can tell?"
"Because this type of magic is not widely accepted as a reality. Imagine; a magic that certain Muggles can do! Most simply laugh at it; dismiss it as an old rumour. Dumbledore does not believe in this magic, and he thinks it foolish to cower in fear of your own imagination."
"But you believe."
"Yes. I believe it. Though I cannot believe I have just given you a lecture on ancient magic, let alone in a dark cell."
Silence.
"I've just realised that this is the first time you've ever taught me something I didn't already know."
"Oh, I've taught you...many things. You just don't realise it was me that taught you them."
Less crowded? thought Luna, confuzzled. And then she realised that The Burrow must be bigger now; more roomy. Yes, that makes sense.
"These things are all rather trivial, don't you think?" asked the Wizard. "Is there anything of more...importance, that you would like to know about?"
More importance? Didn't he just say that I should ask something more specific? Wouldn't something of more importance be less specific?
And then she thought, What is there of more importance?
She sat for a few moments, gazing idly at the Wizard, who she still could not identify, and puzzled over this question. Then it hit her like, well, like something quite hard.
"You-Know-Who," she said. "What's different about You-Know-Who?"
The Wizard smiled grimly. "I had had a feeling that you would ask me that..."
"Ginny?" Ronald uttered the name so softly it was a wonder that Cynthia heard it at all.
"I thought you might have remembered that one..." she whispered. "It happened such a long time ago, after all."
"Wha—when?" questioned Ronald. "How?"
"She was taken into the—Ronald, you know this. I know you know it." She hopped off the counter and sat down across the table from him, in the seat Luna had vacated. She noticed his face was covered in tears.
"How?" asked Ronald again.
"What is really wrong? Why don't you remember any of this?"
"How did she die?" demanded Ronald.
Cynthia took a breath. "She was taken into the Chamber of Secrets in Luna's first year, remember? No one saw her again after that."
"The Chamber of Secrets?" said Ronald bewilderedly. "But why didn't Harry save her?"
"Harry?" repeated Cynthia. "Harry who?"
"No, Harry Potter," said Ronald, obviously thinking she had suggested someone named 'Harry Who' or perhaps someone named 'Harry Hoo' with and 'h', who may or may not have been a Asian detective.
She shook her head slightly, brow furrowed. "Why would Harry Potter have saved your sister?"
"I've a feeling you're not going to like this part," said the Wizard, standing from his chair and sweeping across the nondescript room to what looked like a Muggle movie screen, only smaller. Luna followed, sure that the screen had not been there a moment before.
"For this," he said, "I shall have to show you."
He snapped his fingers and an image appeared on the screen; of a red-haired boy on a train, glumly looking at his corned beef sandwiches.
"Ronald," Luna said, recognising him at once.
"You see, Queen of Logica-Land, with your mother alive, Ronald continued to be your best friend. So, when the time came for him to go to Hogwarts, he was not happy that he wouldn't see you for a whole year.
"However, as I said, he was still your best friend. Therefore he was not looking to make a new best friend. Which is why he is now silent, instead of talking to this boy." The screen showed a silent black-haired boy across from Ronald, which was obviously Harry Potter.
"And so this boy did not make friends with him, either. Ronald would, a year later, come home and still be the very best of friends with you. However, Harry Potter had only one best friend, Hermione Granger,"—the screen showed the two, Harry and Hermione, walking to class—"as opposed to two, which he would have had, had you and Ronald parted ways, as you did before. I am sure this sounds confusing."
Luna shook her head; she understood fine.
"Throughout his year, Harry Potter did things very different from the way he would have done them—and did do them—when Ronald was his best friend. He did not volunteer for a duel with Draco Malfoy,"—the image of Draco Malfoy appeared—"as that had been Ronald's idea. Consequently, he did not discover a three-headed dog in the forbidden third floor corridor."
Luna saw a giant, ferocious-looking three-headed dog on the screen, barking and biting, which made her jump back automatically. On second thought, she figured it was fur-ocious, as it was, you know, a dog. With three heads.
"And because of this, he did not know a thing concerning the Philosopher's Stone."
Now however, Luna was a bit confused. For she hadn't known how any of this had happened in the first place, in any detail. So it was rather difficult to tell what was different.
"Needless to say, Harry Potter did not thwart the Dark Lord's plot, as he did not know of it."
"So what happened? You-Know-Who came back? Then?"
The Wizard didn't answer. "You will also want to know," he said eventually, "what became of your friend Ginny Weasley."
Luna blinked. What became of her? she thought. That's not a very nice-sounding way to put it.
"I suppose," she said quietly.
"The same thing that became of Harry Potter, because that thing happened to Harry Potter, so he could not prevent that thing happening to her."
Luna thought about this for a moment. "Right. Now what does that mean?"
"How would he have saved your sister, for that matter?" Cynthia added.
"Because—Parsel—Chamber—why wouldn't he of?"
She looked at him as if he had forgot his own name.
"Because Harry Potter died before your sister went to Hogwarts. What, do you think he'd come back from the dead to save someone he didn't even know?"
"Didn't know?" echoed Ronald disbelievingly. "And Harry's...dead?"
"Everyone knows that!" Cynthia said harshly. "Ronald, you need to lie down—something has to be wrong if you don't remember that You-Know-Who killed Harry Potter..."
"He wha—what? He what?" Ronald blinked rapidly. My whole world's just crumbled up before my eyes...next thing she'll say'll be "Oh, and I forgot—you're dead too." I just know it...
"I—I'm alive, right?" he asked uncertainly.
She simply stared at him and he was certain she was going to tell him, "Of course not, what would make you think you were alive?" but she didn't.
"That's it, Ronald," she said instead.
"That's it Ronald, you're exactly right. You are dead," Ronald thought.
"That's it—you're lying down whether you like it or not." She took out her wand and said "Stupefy!" very quietly and he doubled over in his chair, unconscious.
"Mobilicorpus!" she muttered, and proceeded to float him into the living room, where she promptly dropped him out of surprise.
"Did you hear that?"
"Did I hear what?"
"That sound...it sounded like a Portkey."
"A Portkey? You can hear a Portkey?"
"Not the Portkey itself; the people falling on their bottoms after taking the Portkey. That's what you can hear."
"No, I can't. And I don't want to, either."
"Shh. They might be coming this way."
"Did you just tell me to shush? Oh, you are going to be in so much trouble, I can hardly wait for the start of term..."
"Do you really think there will be a start of term, if we don't get out of here? Sure, this might be your idea of ideal teaching conditions, but I prefer...I don't know...light?
"Who would've thought; you're not a vampire after all."
"If I hadn't seen your reflection, I'd say you were calling the kettle black."
"I can call the kettle black as much as I want as long as I'm not a pot."
"That's what I meant."
Silence.
"There it was again! Who do you think it could be?"
"We're about to find out."
"Why?"
"I hear footsteps."
The Darkness "Not a speck of light is showing,
So the danger must be growing..."
Roald Dahl Coming Soon