Chapter Forty: The Second Strike

'Come in, come in,' said Hagrid jovially, when, the next morning, Ron, Harry, and Hermione appeared at his door. Ginny was in an early morning meeting with Mrs. Tonks.

They entered the hut, and Fang the boarhound barked happily and immediately set to licking Ron's face when he sat down; the dog then bestowed sloppy kisses on the cheeks of Harry and Hermione.

'Have you lot had breakfast?' Hagrid asked cheerfully. 'I made some crumpets and homemade jam.'

Ron exchanged a look with Harry. It was, by and large, never a good idea to accept any of Hagrid's cooking, but they had all skipped breakfast, so anxious were they to talk to the half-giant and find out what he'd been doing for the past several months.

'No, we haven't eaten,' said Hermione.

'Well, then,' said Hagrid, 'just relax. I've got tea on, too.'

He served them plate-sized crumpets with gloppy jam whose color was indiscriminate, and huge mugs of tea. At least Hagrid's tea was drinkable, if strong.

Ron bit gingerly into the corner of a crumpet; it was hard as a rockcake, but he gamely chewed the dry, sandy thing and swallowed, with great difficulty. He wasn't even sure he could manage the jam, which looked and smelled distinctly unappetizing.

'Okay?' Hagrid asked eagerly, picking up his own crumpet.

'It's good,' Ron croaked, taking a gulp of tea. Hagrid beamed, and Hermione and Harry each began to nibble at their own crumpets, taking many sips of tea in between.

'So, Hagrid, tell us where you've been,' Harry said, after about a minute of difficult eating.

'Well,' said Hagrid, polishing off his crumpet and picking up another, 'I can't tell ye everything, a'course. But Dumbledore asked me to...'

At this Hagrid broke off, and his beetle-black eyes filled with tears. 'Grea' man, Dumbledore,' he said. 'I heard abou'...abou' him when I was in France with Olympe. Jus' wish I coulda been here to...to...'

His voice dissolved into sobs. Harry and Ron exchanged stricken glances. It was never easy to watch Hagrid break down, but now he was crying about Dumbledore, and Ron felt a lump in his own throat. Hermione bit her lip and looked to be fighting tears of her own.

Harry took a deep breath and put a hand on Hagrid's massive shoulder.

'He went quietly,' said Harry softly. 'It was peaceful, he wasn't in pain...or anything.'

'R-really?' Hagrid asked.

'Really,' said Harry.

Hagrid pulled from his shirt pocket a handkerchief the size of a bath towel, and blew his nose.

'Tha's good, then,' he said, struggling to pull himself together. 'Lived a full life, did Dumbledore. 'Grea' man...wizarding world won' be the same without him.'

There was silence for a full minute; it seemed appropriate to Ron, this silence, this pause to remember the old Headmaster.

Hermione spoke first, quickly wiping her eyes. 'Hagrid...you were saying...about your trip...'

'Oh, righ', said Hagrid, stuffing the handkerchief back in his shirt pocket. Ron grimaced but said nothing.

'Well, as I was sayin',' said Hagrid, 'Dumbledore wanted me to make another try with the giants. Woulda done more about las' year but Dumbledore said he needed me here back then. This time, though, Dumbledore said You-Know-Who would be startin' to really gather his followers together. Said time was runnin' out, and I had to do whatever I could, take whatever time I had to, to fin' some giants. I even got special dispensation from the Ministry to use magic. Olympe came with me for that part of it, bless her. Wen' back to Russia first, to the mountains--took the same route we did that las' time. Figgered we should check that area where Golgomath and his lot were.'

'You confronted Golgomath again?' Harry asked.

'No, no,' said Hagrid. 'Tha's just it. When Olympe and I got there, we dint find Golgomath or that crew. There was just bodies.'

Hermione gasped. 'Bodies?' she repeated.

'Dead giants,' said Hagrid heavily. 'Dead a long time, by the looks of 'em. Just bones and the rags they'd been wearing.'

'Golgomath's...crew?' Ron asked.

'I can' be sure,' said Hagrid, 'but I don' think so. I mean, Golgomath had gotten pretty friendly with Macnair all tha' time ago, and if I had to guess, Golgomath woulda left the area by then and followed Macnair to where You-Know-Who wanted 'em to go. No, I don' think it was Golgomath. I think...it musta been those giants Olympe and I talked to in those caves. The ones who opposed Golgomath. There weren' tha' many of 'em, just five or six of 'em. Giants can manage in groups tha' small, so I don' think they killed each other. I think...it had to have been Golgomath himself who had his crew finish off those giants.'

'Not Death Eaters, then?' said Ron.

'Coulda been them, too,' said Hagrid. 'But it's tough work, killin' a giant wi' magic. And we saw blood on those dead giants' clothes.'

Hagrid sighed and took a gulp of tea.

'Olympe and I figgered we weren't gonna fin' any other giants around there,' he said. 'We buried what was left and moved on. Spent the summer goin' through Russia, then headed back west.'

'You didn't find any giants at all?' said Ginny.

'We found some,' said Hagrid, his voice sad.

'Dead,' said Harry.

'Good lord,' said Hermione. 'Voldemort's killing off the giants he can't recruit, isn't he?'

'Looks tha' way, and he's using other giants to do the killin'. The bodies we foun' in Switzerland were a lot...fresher. What'd been done to that lot weren't magic. Those bodies were torn apart.'

Hermione inhaled sharply and let out a breath. 'And...and the giants are just...killing their own kind? Because Voldemort told them to?'

'Oh no,' said Hagrid. 'It don' work like that, Hermione. No human, especially no wizard, can force a giant to do somethin' he don' wanna do. No, I'm guessin' there was a lot more gift givin' to whichever Gurgs were friendly-like to the Death Eaters, and all the Death Eaters had to do after that was convince the Gurgs that certain giants were a threat, and the giants woulda taken it from there. Don' take much to rile a giant up, see.'

Hagrid took another gulp of tea. 'It was like that everywhere I wen',' he went on. 'Olympe had to go back to France to start up at Beauxbatons, but I kept lookin' around. Spent a few months goin' through Switzerland, then Austria, then Germany. Snow on the groun' in those mountains even in September. I finally foun' a few live ones, though, in the Black Forest.'

'And?' Hermione asked.

'They listened to me,' said Hagrid. 'Spoke a bit of German, one of 'em, but I don' speak a word of tha', so we had to kinda do a lot o' gesturin' and what do unnerstan' each other. Only three of 'em, two females and a male. Made some pretty good progress with 'em, though. They seemed friendly enough, anyway. Tol' me they'd come back wi' me, if it meant gettin' more gifts. So they came with me, only...' He sighed again, and shook his head.

'We were set upon by another group o' giants. They killed the male, and one of the females. I had my wand wi' me but...there were eight of 'em, all males, all lookin' to kill. I grabbed the other female and Apparated out o' there.'

'You Apparated?' said Hermione, clearly impressed. 'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Hagrid. 'Well, jus' 'cause I got expelled in third year don' mean I stopped studyin' magic. After I got dispensation from the Ministry to use magic I started practicin' it a bit. Just over short distances.'

'Where did you go this time?' Ron asked. 'With...the female giant?'

'Dunno,' said Hagrid. 'Amazed I didn't splinch myself, or the girl I had wi' me, to be honest. I remember jus' thinkin' about Apparatin' somewhere safe. I can' be sure but I'm guessin' we just wound up in a different part o' the forest.'

'What then?' Harry asked.

'Well, the giant girl, she was beside herself, poor thing,' said Hagrid. 'Took a bit o' time, calmin' her down. But she seemed grateful to me, for savin' her. I knew we had to get out o' there quick. Couldn't be discreet anymore about travelin', not with rampagin' giants loyal to You-Know-Who on our trail. So me and the girl--Mawg's her name--we took to Apparatin' from place to place. It was nerve-wrackin', I'll say that much. I'm not too good at Apparatin', and I could never be sure if I'd land in a place full o' Muggles or wind up fallin' off a cliff. But there weren' any other way to do it--all the Floo networks are restricted these days and makin' a Portkey on short notice is not somethin' I can manage. And we had to go slow, seein' as I wasn't sure how much distance I could cover Apparatin' without causin' a disaster. We were lucky, though, on tha' score.'

'Did you find any other giants?' Ron asked.

Hagrid shook his head. 'None that would talk to us,' he said sadly. 'Word's gotten out by now, I 'spect. Them that don' join up with You-Know-Who are sittin' ducks. Our side shoulda been more aggressive about gettin' giants when we had the chance...Dumbledore tried to convince the Ministry to send a team, but...they had to deal with all those scientists goin' missin' las' year, and this year, with Lucius Malfoy gettin' away, and students gettin' snatched up...I heard abou' Pansy Parkinson. Terrible thing, that.'

Ron swallowed and looked down at his feet. He hadn't talked about what he'd seen the night Pansy had been killed. He'd ripped the images from his mind and shoved them into the Pensieve. Hermione had, to her eternal credit, raised the subject only once, asking him if he wanted to talk about it. When he'd said no, she dropped it. He knew she wasn't looking at him in curiosity, then, but in concern. Pansy's death had affected him, Hermione knew. But she would never know how much. He would never let Hermione see the horrible images that had plagued his mind when he'd clutched that bloody scarf in his hands, would never expose Hermione to Pansy's pathetic screams and sobs as the Death Eaters had torn at her clothes and laughed...

'Ron, you all righ'?'

Ron blinked and looked up at Hagrid.

'I'm fine,' Ron said at once. 'Sorry.'

He glanced over at Harry and Hermione, who watched, but they said nothing to him. Instead, Hermione turned to Hagrid and said gently, 'Go on.'

'Righ',' said Hagrid. 'Anyway, I reckon we jus' waited too long to go back. Word got roun' abou' You-Know-Who faster than we expected. The giants prolly never had much of a chance to decide. And the killins'...tha's just You-Know-Who's preferred method for dealin' with folks who don' go along with him. Mawg stuck with me--I think she was too scared by then to do anythin' else, and she's actually pretty gentle, for a giant. She traveled wi' me all aroun', lookin' for other giants, but the only ones we foun' were either dead or dint want to speak wi' us. Best I could do was leave Dumbledore's name and tell 'em why we'd come. But then Dumbledore, he...well, by then word got out about Dumbledore passin' and that...that prolly sealed the deal for the giants. Even some o' them knew Dumbledore was the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared. With him gone...'

Hagrid's voice broke off, and his eyes filled again, but he took a few steadying breaths and continued.

'I took Mawg back to France wi' me,' he said. 'At the Christmas holiday. We'd been moving abou' from place to place, tryin' to find giants, but by then...it was clear we weren't getting anywhere. An' Mawg, she was tired and cryin' a lot. I took her to Olympe; I dint know where else to bring 'er. Even though I figgered it was prolly pointless, I wanted to keep trying to find a few more giants. If I could just get a hold of a few...Olympe, bless her, took Mawg in. I'd taught the girl a bit o' English by then, and she was pretty calm, really, but Olympe tol' me she'd look after her for a while, let me finish out my mission. She's somethin', that Olympe.'

Hagrid smiled wistfully for a moment, and then continued.

'Anyway, I went over to Spain, up in the Basque mountains. Foun' a couple more of 'em there but it was the same story: they dint wan' to take sides if they could help it. I tol' 'em it was only a matter o' time before other giants came and fought 'em, but they was adamant. I couldn't force 'em to go along wi' me, even if I wanted to. I dint wan' to give up, but...I jus' wasn't gettin' anywhere. Then I got an owl from McGonagall. I knew it had to be serious if she was sendin' me an owl, takin' the risk of it gettin' intercepted. She gave me another assignment. Movin' unicorns.'

'Unicorns?' said Harry. 'Why would you need to...'

His voice trailed off. 'Unicorn killings,' he said. 'There've been unicorn killings, haven't there?'

'Yep,' said Hagrid grimly. 'Whole spate of 'em, in France. Went back down there to a forest in the Massif Central. Used to be a big herd of 'em livin' there. Now they were down to about two dozen or so. Bad scene.'

'Nobody reported this?' said Hermione. 'A spate of unicorn killings, why didn't we hear about this?'

'I 'spect the French press and their ministry covered it up,' said Hagrid. 'Folks panic if unicorns start showin' up dead with their blood missin'. These unicorns were turnin' up not jus' dead, but bled dry.'

'It's Voldemort,' said Harry at once. 'He's taking their blood.'

'S'what I figgered,' said Hagrid.

'Didn't the French ministry do anything to stop them?' Ron asked.

'Well, there's the thing,' said Hagrid. 'They did try to send in some official types, but the unicorns have gotten too skittish. The magical creature control people can' get close enough to 'em to round 'em up, by and large, but when they do get close, the unicorns panic and run away, or else they start kickin'. More than one woman got her teeth kicked ou'.'

Hermione winced and put a hand over her mouth, but then her expression changed.

'But...Hagrid, what made them think you'd be okay to get the unicorns?' she asked. 'I thought unicorn adults did better with women.'

'Tha's where Olympe helped me,' said Hagrid. 'When it comes to horses--any type of horse--she's fearless. Well, she would be, wouldn't she? She raises those Abraxans, don' she? Anyway, she put her Deputy Headmaster in charge o' Beauxbatons while she helped bring in those unicorns. Made a big pen for 'em with me, and I was able to get close enough to feed 'em an' all. Was able to keep watch over 'em. Then we had to load 'em up into that big carriage--ye know, the one tha' brought those Beauxbatons students over to Hogwarts--and I got to fly the thing out o' there with those giant horses. Hard to keep myself inconspicuous, to say the least. Took me forever to get 'ere. Olympe woulda come wi' me but she had to see to Mawg. Olympe wen' back to Beauxbatons righ' after she helped me get the unicorns loaded.'

'Where'd you go?'

'Came back here, o' course,' said Hagrid.

'But...wait, why didn't you tell us you were already back?' said Hermione indignantly. 'You were here before now and we didn't know--'

'Now, Hermione, I had to keep it quiet,' said Hagrid. 'I dint even come back to my house. I brought the carriage down in the middle of the night--it was a nightmare, arrangin' all that security, I migh' add. Had an escort of half a dozen Aurors on broomsticks. We set down near Aragog's glen and--'

Ron stiffened in his seat but said nothing, as Hagrid continued.

'--tol' him what was goin' on. Woulda left the unicorns in that area--Aragog won' touch unicorns, same as anyone else who has proper respect for 'em, but nobody'd think of botherin' unicorns in an acromantula's lair--but the unicorns might get skittish and start stompin' on Aragog's kids, and we couldn't have that.'

'Yeah, what a tragedy that would be,' Ron said sarcastically. Hagrid didn't notice.

'Tha's when I decided the only place for the unicorns was with the centaur herd,' said Hagrid, and he grimaced. 'Well, ye can imagine. Me askin' the centaurs for help. They weren't too pleased 'bou' that. Said I'd already pushed my luck with Grawp. But I got through to 'em. The centaurs still aren' happy 'bout havin' to look after all the unicorns, but unicorns are special creatures, an'...well...unicorns and centaurs are related, I guess...in a way...not that I said tha', min', the centaurs woulda been offended by that. Suffice it to say, the centaurs dint have much trouble helpin' out a...what Bane say...a nobler creature than man.' At this Hagrid rolled his eyes and took a swig of tea.

'And then what?' said Harry. 'You just hid out somewhere in the forest for a few more weeks?'

''Course not,' said Hagrid. 'Had to go back to France and drop off tha' carriage. And see to Mawg. She was doin' okay, turns out. Olympe and I decided to work wi' her best we could, get her learnin' some more English, even a bit o' French. Tough work, that. Had to hide her from the students, and Olympe had the school to run an' all. It was mostly me helpin' Mawg. But she came along rpetty well after we got her calmed down a bit. Her English got to be pretty good after a while, but I knew I'd have to move her out o' there sooner or later, and I knew Grawp would be missin' me, so...I came back.'

'And...you brought Mawg with you?' said Hermione.

Hagrid beamed. 'Yep,' he said. 'Sure did. Safest place for her, really. And it'll be nice for Grawp to have a frien'.'

Hermione smiled weakly. 'Yes, won't it?' she said.

Ron, meanwhile, closed his eyes.

Nice. Yeah, right. Two giants in the forest. Brilliant.

'The centaurs didn't freak out?' said Harry dubiously.

At this, Hagrid looked decidedly sheepish. 'Yeah, that,' he said. 'Well...I haven' exactly talked to 'em abou' that yet.'

Hermione groaned. 'Hagrid,' she said, shaking her head.

'Don' worry,' said Hagrid quickly. 'I'm going' out there to talk to 'em righ' after you lot leave. I'm sure everything'll be jus' fine.'

The look Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged told Ron otherwise.

Somehow, the idea of a second giant in the forest, after Hagrid had already pushed his luck with the centaur, didn't sound like it would be all that 'fine.'

That night, Ron made yet another attempt at Tactile Sight using Harry's jumper.

Again, he found himself frustrated. He went to the Divination classroom to seek out Firenze, and as always the centaur made himself available. At once Ron noticed something was a bit off. Firenze was troubled. Beneath the surface of his serene exterior, Ron could sense the centaur's agitation, in the way Firenze pawed at the ground, at the stiff carriage of his palomino tail.

Ron started to ask what was wrong, but Firenze looked up at smiled at him.

'What troubles you, Ronald?' he asked.

Ron considered for a moment turning the question back to his mentor (funny how he'd come to accept Firenze as his mentor, without realizing it), but something about Firenze's manner suggested he did not wish to talk about his own problems at the moment. Ron instead launched into a monologue about the barriers he'd run up against in trying to use Tactile Sight, how, every time he'd clutched Harry's jumper, he'd see nothing more than a flash of light.

'What am I doing wrong?' Ron asked.

'Nothing,' said Firenze, 'apart from over-working yourself. Exhaustion will always interfere with your ability to See. You must rest.'

Ron sighed and nodded; he knew Firenze was right. He was working too hard. He was drained and irritable and couldn't concentrate.

I'm turning into Hermione, he thought wryly.

'So, I should just put it off tonight, then?' he said. 'The meditating?'

'Yes,' said Firenze, 'it can wait another day. The rest will clear your mind...' The centaur's voice trailed off; he looked distinctly distracted all of a sudden.

Part of Ron wanted to leave; clearly Firenze had something on his mind. But curiosity won out.

'Sir?' Ron said tentatively. 'Are you...okay?'

Firenze blinked and looked at Ron for a moment with a penetrating gaze.

'The herd is restless,' he said.

'The...herd?' said Ron, and then he realized what Firenze was talking about. 'Oh. You mean...the other centaurs.'

Firenze nodded.

'How do you know they're restless?' Ron said. 'I mean...you're not...with them anymore, so...'

He blushed. He shouldn't have said that; there was a flash of sadness in Firenze's eyes.

'No, I am not,' said the centaur, smiling ruefully. 'But I can still hear them in my thoughts. No centaur is ever completely separate from his herd. The connection of our minds and souls is ever-present.'

'Oh,' said Ron, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Firenze had never spoken in any depth about being banished from his herd. Ron was tempted to ask, but he didn't. Instead he said, 'Why are they restless?'

Firenze fixed Ron with his gaze again. 'Something is coming.'

Ron swallowed and felt his stomach plummet. 'The war, you mean?'

Firenze nodded. 'It is written in the stars. The planets. There have been battles, and losses, but that was merely a prologue. It is coming.'

He paused, and paced around the magical glade, his tail swaying slightly.

'The leader is weakened,' he went on. 'But he grows stronger. The blood of the unicorns sustains him; the blood of humans strengthens him. And his forces are gathering even as we speak. It is only a matter of time before they strike again, and they will strike hard.'

Ron felt a rush of fear chill his blood, but he said nothing. Firenze had always frightened him somewhat, when he became philosophical like this. And yet Ron was intrigued, desperate to hear more.

'Will they come here?' said Ron.

'It is possible,' said Firenze. 'Professor McGonagall is a supremely powerful witch, and her protections upon this school are strong, but the Dark One does not fear her, or her strength. The one he feared has gone on.'

Dumbledore. The only one Voldemort ever feared.

'Harry Potter is the last hope for us all,' Firenze said at last. 'It is his destiny.'

'I know,' Ron said, his heart feeling suddenly heavy.

'He and he alone,' said Firenze, his eyes drifting, 'must bear this burden, and defeat this evil.'

Ron felt his stomach twist, and for some reason, he felt angry. He was tired of hearing about Harry having to save the world. Even Dumbledore had known that Harry couldn't do it all by himself. Ron wasn't about to let Harry do it all by himself. That's what always got Harry into trouble, that heroic-loner thing.

'He can't do it alone,' said Ron, his voice sharp. 'He needs all of us.'

Firenze looked at Ron with a bemused expression. 'Of course he does,' said the centaur. 'You misunderstand me, Ronald. He will need all his friends.' He paused. 'Harry Potter will need you most of all.'

Ron screwed up his face in confusion.

'What do you mean?'

Firenze looked up again, at the magical sky in the room. 'I cannot say how it will happen, only that Harry Potter will need every ounce of your strength in the end. He will face the Dark One alone, but in the time leading up to this is when you will be called upon. I see it in the stars.'

'Is it my Seer stuff?' Ron asked.

Firenze looked at Ron. 'I cannot say,' he said. 'The stars only tell me so much. But you have a destiny as well. One that only time will tell. It is inextricably linked with Harry Potter's fate.'

'So...maybe I should try to meditate tonight,' said Ron.

'No,' said Firenze at once. 'I meant what I said, Ronald. Rest is vital to the Seer. You are exhausted and your mind has closed down. You cannot force it open, not when there is the weight of such fatigue pressing upon it. Go and sleep; take a potion if it will help. Refresh yourself and start anew tomorrow.'

Ron nodded.

'Thanks, sir,' he mumbled, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the desire to leave, so he did; Firenze made no objections, and didn't even seem ruffled by Ron's suddenly brusque manner.

Safely back in his room, Ron went over his conversation with Firenze; he didn't actually want to, but Firenze's voice, and his warnings, played over and over again in his mind. For a moment, Ron considered finding Harry and the others and telling them, but just as quickly he dismissed the idea. He was simply too tired to talk about that, or anything else.

His eyes fell on the stack of Auror applications on his desk, and he groaned. So far he'd only managed to finish one in its entirety, and the applications were due in two weeks. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down at his desk.

The first application, to the Ministry's school in London, was the one he had completed. He decided to read over it again carefully, to check for mistakes, although part of him knew he was also doing this to postpone the agony of turning to the next, unfinished application.

Everything looked to be in order; he folded the application carefully and placed it in the thick envelope provided by the Ministry; it was embossed with the Ministry logo and address. Ron then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a second envelope; enclosed the smaller envelope with the two Galleon application fee.

He grimaced. The applications themselves were bad enough, but the fees...he hadn't counted on that. Ron shook his head and picked up the note from Fred and George. He felt a bit foolish, having never thrown it away, but he read it again.

Dear Ickle Ronnikins,

Happy Eighteenth Birthday! We enclose our latest products for your enjoyment. First, the PortableDesert, complete with scorpions, snakes, a vulture and a sandstorm. Instructions are inside the box. We recommend sneaking into Filch's office and leaving the Desert for him as a good-bye present.

Second: the Backwards Fake Wand. It does up to ten spells, but reverses them. So if you do a Summoning Charm with it, what comes out is a Banishing Charm. That sort of thing. It's also charmed to look exactly like your real wand. Pretty wicked, eh? We're ruddy geniuses.

Third: that canister thing is full of Noxious Nasal Nuisance. We've been working on that one for ages--we even let Lee in on it--and it's brilliant. Will knock a bloke flat on his arse in seconds. Use only in emergency situations, if you know what we mean.

Oh yeah, Mum said you're applying to Auror schools. After we stopped laughing over imagining you as an Auror, we figured you might need a little assistance with the fees and the postage. Don't go thinking the money is part of your birthday present, though. We expect full remuneration sometime in the next decade, little bro.

Take care of yourself. Don't do anything stupid.

Love,

Gred and Forge

Ron smiled and shook his head.

Ten years to pay them back? That sounds about right.

He still hadn't opened Fred and George's gifts. He simply hadn't had the time. They were stacked neatly in his trunk, underneath Harry's jumper, that Ron had flung carelessly inside after his most recent fruitless attempt with it.

He put the note away and turned back to his applications. Procrastination itched at him again; he simply didn't want to bother tonight with any more essay writing on why he was psychologically suited to be an Auror. He looked at the completed application, sealed inside its envelope, and decided instead to mail that one. It was a bit late and the owlery would likely be mostly empty, but it was, at least, a good excuse to avoid working on the other applications, and the walk might do him good, anyway.

Ron made sure his Head Boy badge was prominently displayed, and left his room with the application in his left hand. He came across an Auror in the corridor.

'Just off to the owlery to mail something,' he explained to the young witch.

She eyed him for a moment. 'Need me along?'

'No, thanks,' said Ron. 'Not if you're busy.'

She put a hand on her hip. 'I am busy, but if I'm going to let you wander about on your own, you have to carry your wand.'

Ron quickly pulled his wand from his robe pocket. 'Sure,' he said, and the witch nodded and gestured for him to move on.

'And be back in ten minutes,' she called after him.

Ron waved his wand hand at her in response but continued on. He hated the paranoia that seemed to be creeping up on the castle. It left a decidedly unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the tension was showing in the other students as well.

Ron entered the owlery to find it mostly empty, but a large barn owl opened its eyes when Ron whistled softly at it. The owl swooped down and held out a leg. Ron put a few Knuts in the owl's pouch.

'Ministry of Magic,' Ron instructed. 'For Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

The owl hooted softly and swooped out of the owlery into the night. Ron watched it go, and felt a slight lifting off his chest. Just knowing the application was on its way took a bit of the weight off his mind.

Only four more to go, he thought, as he started back toward his room.

Ron was just starting around the corner when he heard it. Voices. Very muffled voices. Ron froze and considered. It could be a couple of Aurors talking, but if that were true, why the hushed secrecy that seemed to surround their mumbling speech? He gripped his wand tightly and moved closer to the sounds, only to quickly duck behind a suit of armor when he saw the flash of brown hair peek out from the shadows of the alcove twelve feet away.

It was Theodore Nott, and he wasn't alone. His companion was taller and bulkier than he, and heavily robed and hooded; Ron bit his lip in frustration to note that the companion's back was to him and there was no way to make out a face. But then the dark figure stiffened and turned; Ron held his breath...

...and nearly let out a loud snort. It was just Gregory Goyle.

'Haben Sie etwas gehört?' said Goyle. (1)

What? What the hell did he just say?

'Nein, ich habe nichts gehört,' said Nott, sounding impatient. 'Stop being so paranoid. And speak English.' (2)

Ron almost gave a start. Since when did Goyle speak another language? And what language was this? Ron was sure he hadn't heard it before.

'Easy for you to say,' Goyle snarled. 'You're not the one taking the chances.'

'The chances you're taking are unnecessary,' Nott retorted. 'So quit your whinging. I told you a few days ago I was very close. Why do you keep harassing me?'

'He wants it now, Nott,' Goyle said, and his voice took on an edge of fear. 'I've already had to put him off twice. You know what it's like, telling him no?' Goyle's large frame shuddered inside his robes.

'Oh, come on,' said Nott, punching Goyle in the arm. 'It's to toughen you up. I got it plenty when I joined the club.'

Ron felt his heart begin to pound; it felt so loud in his ears he was sure Nott and Goyle would hear it, too, but they didn't seem to notice anyone was nearby.

'And anyway,' Nott went on, his voice turning brutally icy, 'it's all to get you what you want in the end, isn't it?'

Ron screwed up his face in confusion. What Goyle wanted in the end? What role did Gregory Goyle have in this? Goyle was a moron. How could he possibly be involved?

Remember what you said about Pansy? How she might have been doing a dumb act to throw people off the scent? Maybe Goyle's the one who's been playing dumb, and not Pansy. That has to be it, there can't be any other explanation for Gregory Bloody Goyle being the messenger boy for Voldemort. Who knew he could do anything right? And...good god. They're both Death Eaters. Did they rape Pansy, too? Were they there when she...

Ron squeezed his eyes shut as the sound of Pansy's screams echoed in the distant corners of his mind, and focused on Nott and Goyle. Goyle's stance had changed. He was leaning into Nott, talking in a very low voice. Ron strained to hear, but all he could make out was a rumbling murmur, and one final word.

'...cling.'

Cling. Meaning clingfoil? Plastic wrap? This is bloody ridiculous!

Ron leaned forward, trying desperately to hear what Nott was saying back, but suddenly Ron's hand, that had been resting against the suit of armour, slipped and clanged against the sword attached to the knight's hip.

'What the--' Nott snapped, and he leapt out of the alcove.

Dammit!

There was nothing for it now but for Ron to step forward. He would not be caught out by these two prats. He took a deep breath and walked steadily and quickly, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, into Nott's line of sight. He noticed for a moment that Goyle paled, but Nott gave a kind of snarl and lunged.

Ron raised his wand and Nott stopped in his tracks.

'What do you think you're doing, Nott?' Ron asked, putting on his best Head Boy Authority face and voice.

'Were you just listening to us?' Nott demanded.

Ron smirked.

Got this arsehole in a bit of a panic, don't I? Might as well have a bit of fun with it.

'I might have been,' said Ron. 'You really shouldn't having little Death Eater conferences in the corridors after hours.' He shifted on his feet and aimed his wand at Goyle, who paled again.

'What did you mean, "he wants it now"?' Ron asked.

'Don't answer that, Goyle,' said Nott.

At this Goyle gave Nott a dirty look. 'I wasn't going to,' he grumbled.

'You know what, don't answer,' said Ron. 'I know you're talking about Voldemort, and I know he wants the clingfoil, or the cling or whatever it is you're calling it.'

He waited for Nott's face to go as pale as Goyle's, but instead Nott began to laugh derisively. Goyle watched him for a moment, and then his features relaxed and he, too, began to laugh.

'Oh, Weasley,' Nott said, shaking his head, 'you really are pathetic, you know.'

Ron bristled. He knew somehow the dynamic of the conversation had shifted, and he felt his confidence evaporate. He took a breath.

'Maybe I should take you two to McGonagall's office,' he said. 'Let her interrogate you with a little Veritaserum, yeah?'

'You really think a little Veritaserum is going to make us talk?' said Nott. 'Or did you miss the fact that some of us have built up an immunity to it?'

Something snapped in Ron's mind.

Helene Rosier. She was able to resist the effects of Veritaserum under interrogation. Did that mean Nott and Goyle could be as well? A year ago Ron would have said that was impossible, but after all that had happened, starting with the disaster of Lucius Malfoy's trial and escape, after Professor Hopkirk and Shield Charms that could block the Killing Curse, after giants that could speak English and potions that made Harry into a super-human, Ron knew anything was possible now.

He suddenly felt more adrift than ever. Nott was standing here practically admitting he was a Death Eater, and there was nothing Ron could do about it. Not without proof. Even if McGonagall took Ron at his word and expelled Nott, would that even help? Nott might be a bigger danger on the outside, once he had nothing to lose.

'I know what you're doing,' Ron snarled. 'I know you're passing along information to Voldemort.'

'Prove it,' said Nott, meeting Ron's gaze.

And there it was. Ron couldn't prove it. Words meant nothing. Ron knew now that Nott had been a part of the attack on Charlie; perhaps that had been the other boy's initiation into the Death Eater's club. And Ron knew that even if Nott hadn't been in the Grangers' house on Christmas night, he had known about the attack. Nott had been careful to cover his tracks, and he'd had the help of his Death Eater fellows.

Ron knew he had a choice: he could hex Nott and Goyle into submission, drag them into the Headmistress's office and tell her all that he'd heard. But what good would it do? Nott would find a way to get out of it--he was clever and capable, as Ron had seen in D.A. meetings, whenever they faced off as opponents (which was frequently). Even if Goyle was the messenger, Nott was running the scene inside Hogwarts now, as Voldemort's helper, which meant that Nott was smart enough to always have a Plan B, or even a Plan C.

Ron let out a breath and stepped back slightly, but kept his wand in Nott's face.

'I know what you're doing,' he said again. 'I can't prove it, but I can keep an eye on you.'

Nott smirked. 'You do that, Weasley,' he said, and then he arched his aristocratic eyebrows. 'What now? Are you going to give us detention?'

'A week,' Ron snapped. 'Both of you.' He was suddenly furious, with Nott, with himself. Nott had played the entire situation to his own benefit and Ron was nearly overcome with the urge to punch the other boy in the mouth and wipe away that obnoxious smirk. He didn't, though. He simply kept his wand up.

'Fine,' said Nott, and he turned to Goyle, who, Ron noticed, looked distinctly nervous.

Well, at least one of them is intimidated.

'Let's go, Goyle,' said Nott. He looked at Ron contemptuously and smiled smugly.

Ron watched the two of them head down the corridor toward the Slytherin dungeons.

Just before they turned the corner, Nott turned back and gave Ron a cold, smug smile.

'Speaking of keeping an eye on people,' he said, 'you might think about your family.'

Ron felt a white-hot rage rush inside him; he saw Nott throwing curses at Charlie, a wall collapsing on Percy as he tried to save their father. He raised his wand and was ready to curse Nott. Nott was still smiling.

'Hey,' said a voice, and Ron started and turned to see the young Auror witch glaring at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nott and Goyle disappear, but the Auror didn't appear to have seen them.

'You said you'd be back in ten minutes,' said the witch, looking 't find an owl right away,' he lied.

'I can't go chasing students around,' she said, 'even if one is Head Boy.'

'Sorry,' said Ron.

'Come on,' said the witch. 'You can't stay in the corridors. I'll escort you where you need to go.'

Ron immediately though of Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

'The Gryffindor common room,' he said.

'Right, then,' said the witch. 'Let's go.'

He followed her, and just as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Ron paused and remembered something.

'What's your name?' he asked.

'Mary Stebbins,' she said coolly. 'Why do you want to know?'

'I just...like knowing who's looking out for us,' said Ron. Which was true, really, but there was more to it than that. Only he didn't want to tell her the full reason, as it was a bit macabre.

I just want to know your name in case you die, so I remember you.

A small smile, nonetheless, curled Mary's lips.

'Good night, Mr. Weasley,' she said, and she gave him a curt but not unfriendly nod before turning on her heel and heading back down the corridor.

'Ron, what's the matter?'

Hermione, Harry and Ginny were sitting in his room in their usual spots, and Ron was pacing. He'd gone straight to the common room, where he found them all up and studying. He didn't even have to speak for them to silently stack their books and follow him out the portrait hole.

Once in his room, Ron realized he was so wound up he needed to pace just to calm himself down. If he'd been alone he would have done some of the calming exercises Firenze had taught him, but it couldn't be helped now. He paced some more, and the others waited him out. At last, Ron felt more like himself, and he turned to them and told them.

'They were speaking a different language?' Hermione said. 'Goyle?'

'Yeah, I know,' said Ron. 'Weird. It must be some Death Eater thing. It's like they can all speak foreign languages.'

'What language was it?' said Harry.

'Damned if I know,' he said. 'I know it wasn't French. It didn't sound like French. It was too...hard, or something, to be French. Anyway, they only said, like, two words and then they were speaking English.'

'And another mention of "clingfoil",' said Hermione.

'No, this time Goyle just said "cling",' said Ron. 'Which means maybe Aberforth Dumbledore only got it half right. Oh, and he threatened our family again,' he added darkly.

Ginny snorted. 'Bastard. Everyone who's not licking Voldemort's boots is in danger.'

'Yeah, but your family should be careful, anyway,' said Harry, looking worried.

'After all that's happened, I'm sure they're taking every precaution,' said Ginny.

Hermione sighed; she looked exhausted. Her eyes skipped over to his desk; Ron had moved the stack of applications out of the way so that Harry could sit in the desk chair and rest his elbow on the surface of the desk. Hermione's eyes widened for a split second, but then she looked back up at Ron.

'One of your applications is missing,' she said slowly.

'What?' said Ron absently, and he looked over at the desk. 'Oh, right. No, it's not missing. I sent it out. That's what I was doing when I ran into Nott and Goyle. I was on my way back from the Owlery.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, her voice oddly tight. Her eyes fluttered away from him, and Ron felt the tension in the air thicken.

Ginny sensed it, too, judging by the look on her face. She stood up and tugged at Harry's sleeve.

'We can't worry about this tonight,' she said.

Ron groaned. 'Why does it feel like everything's getting away from us? One minute we make progress, a step forward, and then it's two steps back...'

'Ron, we're all exhausted,' said Ginny steadily.

'She's right,' said Harry. 'We've got to get some rest. And something good did come out of this, Ron, you know.'

'How d'you reckon?' Ron asked.

'Nott knows we're on to him now,' said Harry. 'He's compromised. He can't get away with too much if he knows he's being watched.'

'And as long as he's here,' said Ginny, 'we can keep an eye on him.'

'I think you should tell McGonagall tomorrow,' said Hermione, her voice still sounding slightly distant.

'I plan to,' said Ron, eyeing her warily.

'We're turning in,' Ginny said, and she leaned up and gave Ron a peck on the cheek, and hugged Hermione. Hermione then gave Harry a slightly listless hug, and Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder.

'See you in the morning,' said Harry, and he and Ginny left Ron's room.

For a long moment after they left, there was a silence between Ron and Hermione. She wasn't looking at him, but at his desk.

'Hermione,' Ron said softly, 'what's wrong?'

She looked up at him and smiled weakly. 'Oh, nothing,' she said, waving her hand at him.

'Not nothing,' Ron said at once, and sat down next to her. 'Talk to me.'

She looked at him and bit her lip. 'I just...why didn't you tell me you were going to send out your application tonight?'

Ron looked at her with surprise. He hadn't really been expecting that question.

'Because...it was finished and it was right there on my desk,' he said, shrugging. 'I guess I just wanted the thing out there. I've got four more to finish and the deadline's coming up and...it was a bit of a relief, at least, getting one sent.'

Hermione nodded and looked down at her hands, but said nothing. Ron gingerly took her hand in his, but still she didn't look up. Something in her manner told him he had to wait for her to speak.

'I'm sure,' she said finally, 'that you'll be accepted. Into the training program, I mean.'

It was not what he'd expected her to say. He felt a little thrill in his stomach to hear it, but it was tempered by her halting tone.

'You think so?' he said, choosing to let it go for the moment.

'I know so,' she said, finally meeting his eyes. He started to speak but she beat him to it.

'I've seen you in lessons,' she said. 'And D.A. meetings. You've worked so hard and...you're good, Ron. You'd make an excellent Auror.'

Her words should have filled him with pride, but they didn't. She looked so sad to him just then, he felt his heart constrict.

He knew why. She was afraid; ever since Christmas night, things had been different for them. It wasn't that she fussed over him; it was in the way her eyes would grow fearful and the way she'd press her lips together after a D.A. meeting, when Ron was tired and sweaty but felt great after the tough physical work of duelling and spell-casting, dodging and weaving out of the way of his opponent's hexes and curses. She never said or did anything overtly different toward him, apart from spend more time around him and cling to him more tightly at night after they fell asleep and especially after they made love. But she was different all the same.

He thought, too, about the other job opportunities that had come his way. Good opportunities that he had dismissed almost out of hand as soon as they'd come in. There was the assistant coaching job for the Cannons, for example. Two years ago he would have leapt at the chance, but then, two years ago, he hadn't nearly lost all his best friends and half of his family. Two years ago, he didn't truly believe he was good enough to be an Auror.

Then there were the numerous Ministry positions, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, or in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department. Ron knew it wouldn't take much to get a job like that, given that his father had enjoyed greater respect in the past few years and that Percy worked in the Ministry as well.

Hermione had asked him why he wouldn't give even just think about those jobs.

'Because I want to be able to do something to make things better,' Ron had said. 'Everything's so messed up, I just want to do something good.'

'You can do good as a Quidditch coach,' she'd said.

'It's not the same,' said Ron. And the subject had dropped, and hadn't come up again.

But now it was upon them again. His future, and his choice. He knew Hermione didn't like it at all, but he'd allowed the subject to go unexplored. After all, he rationalized, it's not as if she was telling him her objections.

Bullshit. Don't lie to yourself. You've been avoiding it because you don't want to deal with it.

Looking at her now, her brown eyes dry but aching, he knew he couldn't avoid it anymore.

'Hermione,' he said, his voice cracking slightly, 'do you...not want me to be an Auror?'

She stiffened at once. 'I never said that,' she said at once, shaking her head a bit too vigorously.

'But...' Ron prompted.

Hermione let out a sigh, and kept her eyes firmly on her lap. 'I just...I don't know why you think you can't achieve something good for the world in some other way. Some other way that's not so...dangerous.'

And there it is. She's terrified of losing you. Like she told you at Christmas, after her parents were attacked.

'Hermione,' Ron said slowly, 'I...I know you worry about me.'

'An understatement,' she muttered, almost under her breath.

'Don't you think I worry about you?' Ron countered.

'I know you do,' she said. She still wouldn't look at him, and it was driving him to distraction.

'Hermione, please look at me,' he urged gently. She did, and the depths of her brown eyes were filled with sadness. He let out a breath.

'I know you worry about me,' he said again, 'but...don't you see? I'm better than I was at Christmas. I'm being a lot more careful. A lot more careful.'

'I know--'

'And, hey, I play Quidditch, remember?' he said. 'That's dangerous, too.'

'Yes,' said Hermione, placing a hand against his cheek, 'and now you know why I don't much like that game. Because you're up there swooping around on your broom and I'm so sure any second you'll take a Bludger to the head and go crashing to the ground.'

Oh, yeah. Right.

'Ron,' she said, 'you're so good at so many things. You're a Seer, think of all you could do with that, and you'd never have to take so many risks.'

Ron took the hand that was pressed against his cheek in his own.

'Do you want me not to be an Auror?' he asked again. She started to look away, but he placed his hand under her chin. 'Don't look away,' he insisted gently.

'I...I don't know,' she said finally. 'I just...I'm afraid. I know you'd be a good Auror, I wasn't just saying that. And that's what frightens me.'

'Do you want me to give it up?' Ron persisted.

And what will you say if she says yes?

I don't know!

'N-no,' she said finally. 'I want you to be happy.' She paused and seemed to be gathering herself. 'I could never ask you to give up something that made you happy. I know you'd never do that to me, and...I couldn't do that to you.'

When she looked at him again, her eyes were filled with tears.

'But I won't lie to you, either,' she said. 'I hate it.'

Ron swallowed. He didn't know what to say to that. It was out there now, on the table. She wasn't asking him to give up what he wanted, but she hated the idea all the same. He supposed he ought to be relieved that they'd at least addressed the issue at last, and yet doubts still gnawed at his insides. It was as if they'd crossed a line, and were standing on a precipice. Could their relationship survive something like this?

It was not a question for Ron anymore that he wanted to be an Auror. He did. But more than this, it was what he needed. It was what he knew he was meant to do. It was what he had to do.

And yet he needed her, too. So badly. And he loved her more than he thought he could love anyone, especially in this moment, when she laid open her heart to him and choked back her own desire to see him safely ensconced in a desk job.

But she hated his choice. How much was she supposed to accept for that choice?

And suddenly, unbidden, the vision of the two of them and the baby flashed in his mind. What did it mean, that vision? It was a possible future, but Firenze had said Ron's destiny was written in the stars, that his destiny was bound to Harry's. How did being an Auror fit into that? How did having a child with Hermione fit in? Confusion spilled through his mind and he was suddenly tired, so very tired.

Looking into her tear-filled eyes, he wanted to tell her about the vision, about the baby, to give her some reassurance, but then her lips were against his, sweetly insistent. He kissed her back, deciding he didn't want to talk after all, and knew where it would lead, and he let it happen, because he was scared, because he needed her, because he was tired, but never tired enough to want to drown in her skin. And if they could just push away this new uncertainty between them, so much the better.

A little while later, they fell asleep, their bodies entwined. Ron forgot all about the vision, and he didn't dream.

Next day Ron did indeed feel better and stronger. Hermione had slipped out of his bed earlier that morning, and for a moment he felt a pang as he remembered their conversation the night before, and the soft, desperate lovemaking that had followed, but he found a note on his pillow, and his heart warmed when he read it.

I love you. Always.

H

That was all she'd written, but it was more than enough. He felt renewed and pushed back at the lingering doubt hovering in the back of his mind. Today, he told himself, he would make progress. After he meditated, he'd go straight to McGonagall and report Nott and Goyle, and the threat Nott had made. The best part was that Snape would be able to keep an eye on Nott. Snape had eyes like a hawk, and given his own background as a spy, well, it couldn't hurt, anyway.

Fancy that. Me being glad about Snape helping.

Ron got up, took a bracingly hot shower, shaved, brushed his teeth, and dressed before preparing to meditate. He went to the trouble of casting a magical fire and adding some of the herbs from the supply Firenze had given him.

He sat down next to his trunk and took a full minute to breathe in the herbs and relax his mind before getting the jumper; his eyes were closed as he reached into his trunk.

Instead of the wool of the jumper, however, his fingers closed around the canister of Noxious Nasal Nuisance. He picked it up to move it out of the way, and was seized by a vision.

He gave a little cry and tried to drop the canister but it seemed fused to his skin as the vision assaulted him...

Diagon Alley; it was early morning, before dawn. Fred and George were in the shop with Lee Jordan; they looked to be in the back storeroom, and they were surrounded by canisters and were shoving them into large wooden crates. Or rather, Fred and George were; Lee seemed to be standing back a bit and watching them. His face looked oddly slack.

'Move it along, Fred,' George was saying. 'The delivery guy's here in ten minutes and if this shipment's not ready--'

'He won't wait and he'll come back tomorrow and the Order will have kittens,' Fred finished, rolling his eyes. 'I'm moving as fast as I can, George, in case you didn't notice.'

'Hey, Lee, what's up? Get to packing,' George barked.

Lee's response was to step back and pull his wand from his robes.

'Of course,' said Fred. 'Good call, Lee, what the hell are we doing this manually for when we've got magic to--'

'NO!'

The scream came from Ron's own lips as Lee, his eyes cold and dead, pointed his wand at Fred's chest.

'Lee, what--' Fred started to say.

Eiectare,' said Lee, in an eerily calm voice. (3)

The curse slammed into Fred's chest and he gave a surprised yell as he was hurled backwards, smashing through the closed door of the storeroom so hard the door ripped off its hinges.

No, Ron thought desperately, and he struggled to move, but the vision was possessing him now, pinning him to the floor.

George took half a second to gape at Lee in horror before yanking out his wand, but the half second was all the time Lee needed; he turned sharply and aimed his wand at George.

'Confractum femoris,' he said.

'Protego!' George shouted, and the curse bounced away harmlessly. 'Lee, what the bloody hell are you doing?'

'Diffindo,' said Lee.

'Protego!' George yelled, again blocking Lee's spell.

'He's under the Imperius Curse!' Ron shouted, but of course, George couldn't hear him.

But George seemed to have figure this out.

'Lee!' he cried, holding his wand up. 'It's me. George! Come on, mate, don't do this! This isn't you!'

At this, Lee suddenly wavered. The dead expression in his eyes changed, and a flash of pain stretched across his face.

'Come on, Lee,' George urged. 'Fight it.'

Where's Fred? Ron thought madly, struggling to see Fred through the ruins of the doorway into the shop. Ron's throat constricted when he saw his older brother lying in a twisted heap on top of a fallen shelf.

'Lee,' George was saying, 'you can fight it.'

Ron wrenched his attention back to Lee and saw him open his mouth as if to speak; his whole body was shaking now, and his face was sheened with sweat. He was fighting the curse hard, but even as he fought, his wand arm was going up. George looked stricken.

'Lee, don't!' he yelled.

Lee gave a strangled cry, the sort a wounded animal would make, and suddenly there was a rush of air as the curse lifted. Lee pitched forward toward George, who caught him.

'Lee,' George cried, his voice cracking. 'Jesus Christ.'

Lee sank to his knees and looked up at George weakly, his face a mask of shame.

'I'm sorry...' he whispered. 'I'm sorry...'

At that moment four sharp pops cracked the air, and Ron squirmed in horror as George and Lee were surrounded by Death Eaters. George immediately struggled to get his wand up, but Lee was clinging to him.

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and pointed a wand at Lee.

'No!' George screamed.

'Avada Kedavra,' said the voice of Helene Rosier. Ron's screams blended with George's as the green beam of light struck Lee Jordan in the back. His eyes were still wide open with shock and shame as he slid, deadweight, from George's arms.

'You fucking bastards!' George yelled, and he raised his wand and aimed it at Helene Rosier.

'Expelliarmus,' said a second voice, a low, elegant voice that made Ron's blood seem to freeze.

He could only watch impotently as George's wand sailed neatly into the gloved, outstretched hand of Lucius Malfoy.

'Crucio,' Malfoy added, almost as though it was an afterthought, and the curse struck George in the face. He shrieked in pain and crashed to the floor.

'No, no, no, no...' Ron moaned. 'Make it stop...'

But it didn't stop. Even as George hollered out his agony, Malfoy pulled his hood down and turned to Helene Rosier. He gave her a soft smile that was almost affectionate, and she smiled back, her eyes glittering with undisguised lust.

'Fetch the twin,' said Malfoy.

And just like that, the vision was over. Ron groaned and felt the canister slip from his fingers. His muscles were twitching and a wave of nausea punched him in the gut; he leaned over and vomited onto the rug. His head was pounding. He had to get up. He had to tell McGonagall. Lee would die. His brothers...

He took a deep breath and pushed himself up onto his knees but suddenly he was assaulted with more visions. Explosions. An endless stream of them that boomed in his mind, in his ears. He clapped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth.

Make it stop! he begged silently, to no one.

The Burrow was burning. Fred and George's store was burning. Grimmauld Place...

Ron's eyes flew open as the vision ended, this one just as abruptly as the last. He felt his stomach heave and nearly vomited again, but fought back the nausea. The thumping in his head wouldn't stop; it was driving him mad; he had to get up and get to McGonagall. Why wouldn't the pounding in his head stop?

It was a few more seconds when Ron, pulling himself painfully to his feet, realized that the pounding was on his door, not his head.

'Weasley, open this door!'

McGonagall.

Ron started toward the door but his knees gave out on him, and instead he swayed back and collapsed onto his bed. He pulled his wand from his robe pocket and opened the door that way.

She burst into the room, followed by Professor Snape. Her eyes took in the still crackling magical fire, the canister that had rolled out of Ron's fingers and come to rest against the side of his trunk, and the pool of vomit.

'Weasley,' she whispered. Snape shut the door behind her.

'I saw something,' Ron choked. 'Fred and George...'

McGonagall's hand fluttered to her mouth.

'Oh, no,' she whispered.

'What?' said Ron, and he felt his heart begin to hammer away in his chest, as loud as the pounding that still went on in his head. 'What's wrong?' He suddenly felt like throwing up again.

'There have been some attacks,' said Professor Snape, keeping his voice perfectly even. 'Your brothers' store and your parents' house.'

'No,' Ron moaned. 'No...I just saw it...it can't have already happened...'

'I'm afraid it did,' said McGonagall. 'I'm so sorry.'

Ron felt hot, furious tears burning his eyes. 'My family...' he croaked.

'Your parents are safe,' said Snape quickly. 'They were at headquarters when...when the house was attacked.'

It was the word 'headquarters' that snapped Ron's attention.

Grimmauld Place. He'd seen an explosion at Grimmauld Place. Which meant the Death Eaters knew where it was. Everything slammed into place now, and suddenly Ron recalled the dream he'd had at Christmas, where Lee, Fred and George were all in a room, working on something. A canister. It was a canister of the Noxious Nasal Nuisance.

We've been working on that one for ages--we even let Lee in on it--and it's brilliant.

Dear god. Had Lee been under the Imperius curse back then? No, it was impossible, Fred and George would have noticed. But clearly, the Death Eaters wanted the stuff. That was why they'd hit the store. They used Lee, they had gotten to him somehow, put the Imperius Curse on him, and he'd unwillingly led them right to Fred and George.

On a day when they were shipping it. To the Order! No, no, no, no...

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was compromised.

'You have to get them out of there!' Ron cried, leaping up from the bed, fighting the wave of dizziness. 'My parents, everyone! I saw an explosion at Grimmauld Place! The Death Eaters know where it is, you have to get everyone out!'

McGonagall's face registered horror, but almost at once she turned to Snape.

'Severus, go to Potter's room and send Fawkes with a message to Kingsley,' McGonagall ordered. 'Then go right to my office and use a Portkey. Get them out.'

Snape swept out of the room faster than Ron had ever seen him move.

Ron was panting and he felt the vague stirrings of hyperventilation coming on. He sat down and forced himself to breathe. The last thing he needed to do was pass out. Guilt and nausea and dizziness were threatening to knock him over, but he had to find out what was going on.

'Weasley, are you all right?' McGonagall asked, her voice tight with concern.

'Tell me about Fred and George,' he said, 'please.'

McGonagall let out a long breath.

'The store was destroyed,' she said. 'We believe the Death Eaters were after--'

'I know what they were after,' Ron interrupted, not caring if he sounded rude. 'They wanted that gas stuff, in the canisters. What happened to Fred and George? Are they...they're not dead, are they?'

'So far as we know, they are not,' said McGonagall.

'What does that mean?' Ron asked, but he had a horrible feeling he knew.

'It appears,' said McGonagall grimly, 'that the Death Eaters kidnapped your brothers.'

A/N: I'm sure everyone hates me now. I freely admit this is one of my worst cliffhangers. But things are in motion now and the muse is cooperating and who am I to deny her?

Thanks to Buckbeaky and lina, my "Beta Team."

German translations:

(1) Did you hear something?

(2) No, I heard nothing.

(Note: Goyle deliberately is using the more formal "Sie" (you) as opposed to the familiar "du"; it's meant to show his respect to Nott. There's another reason, too, but I won't say what it is, because that would be giving something away)

Latin translation:

(3) Eiectare means "to hurl" or "to throw"