Careless Whispers
His Father was dead. His Dad was dead. But at the same time he wasn't. Why did this have to be so confusing? The line between this world and his own were so blurry now. To anyone thinking clearly Arthur Weasley was resting at home quite happily, if anxiously, for a letter from Dumbledore assuring him that his son was fine and would return to the right world soon. But to Ron it was his dad that had been murdered, not this other world's counterpart. The news had brought back every unbearable fear he'd experienced at Christmas last year when You-Know-Who's pet snake had attacked.
Ron scowled at the sky that refused to be poetic and reflect his depressed, angry mood. Instead the sun was high and the air was lukewarm as long as the customary icy February breeze didn't blow. He hadn't ventured outside much during this unexpected stay in the other world and for good reason- it was bloody freezing!
The seasons had changed slightly during his stay but not so far as for blessed April showers to arrive and hide his tears. He ducked between the ageing stonework and stared across the lake feeling homesick and alone. You never appreciate something until it's gone- an old saying that epitomised everything about this world. Freedoms were being eroded here: the right to speak, the right to choose, the right to live.
The sound of voices brought him back from the deep well of contemplation- they were students on their way to lessons. He worried for a fleeting moment about being late to his next class until he realised that he had a free period in which he was meant to be doing his potions and charms homework. But what did that matter anyway? Safe lessons taught in a secure school away from the pressing responsibilities of real life, he thought bitterly. Then again that sense of security didn't really exist here anymore, maybe back in his Hogwarts, but certainly not here.
Ron accepted that he wasn't the most observant person in the world and that he couldn't read people's emotions particularly well, nevertheless he would have had to been blind not to see that no one in this school felt safe. Nobody walked alone between classes, no one spoke out, not a single murmur of discontent could be heard except for in the very tightest of circles. There was also a distinct lack of trust and it wasn't the Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad grassing students up here. No. It could be anyone, or everyone, of any house. There was certainly no interschool unity when there lacked even interhouse unity. Ron would never have believed it possible had he not seen members of his own house having private conversations with the new teachers and then reading the stories in the Prophet the next day of another "enemy of social justice" being found and removed. It was terrifying. He was even beginning to think that the ministry had deliberately allowed new students into Hogwarts, maybe even instigated it, as another way to break the bonds between friends.
Or perhaps the conspiracy theories were getting to him. He shook his head of the fearful thoughts but they would not clear.
With the image of his father's dead body sprawled in his mind Ron cast his thoughts wider to the rest of his family. To be honest he'd dodged the subject deliberately during his stay. The photo he'd seen on his first day offered reassurance that they were fine but the more he found out about this world the more he didn't want to know. He was terrified of what he would find out. But now he would have to deal with it, to act like the brother he was, and that meant finding Ginny.
Ron hadn't seen his sister during his wait in this world and in all honesty he'd purposely tried not to think about her familiar face. It brought a nauseating feeling of homesickness. During his first week he'd imagined that Harry and Hermione were keeping him out of the way just in case she recognised him. However as time passed, and her non-existence became more noticeable, he'd gotten the distinct feeling that he really didn't want to know where she was and entered, what Hermione would call, the psychologically defined stage of denial.
Realising that it was time he stopped playing "the mooncalf and left the burrow" (1) Ron turned towards the Castle doors. He made his way towards the Common room thinking it the most likely place to find his friends, but took a brief detour to the bathroom knowing that it would best to first freshen up first and hide his red eyes from those too nosy for their own good.
He entered the homely room to find it half full of sixth and seventh years sans Harry and Hermione. With a new sense of vigour he ran up the stairs to the boys dormitories and opened the door with a bang.
"Harry where is-" He stopped suddenly when he saw a stuffed bag on his friend's bed together with his firebolt. The room seemed devoid of people till he heard noises from behind the furniture and Harry peered from behind the covers.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked.
"Shut the door," was the reply.
"What?"
Harry strode across the room and shut the door "Never mind," he muttered.
"Harry, What's going on?"
He didn't get an answer and his friend ignored him, searching through the bag and going over a silent checklist in his head. As the worrying silence lengthened Ron strode across the room and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him.
"Answer me."
More silence. Ron noticed that Harry's fists were clenched, the knuckles white with force.
"Answer me!"
"No!"
"Tell me or I go to Dumbledore right now."
They stared at each other in challenge like deer rutting. Harry's eyes were hard with rage and Ron's own widened when he also saw the desperation there.
"Okay!" Harry shouted back, finally breaking out of the odd trance he'd fallen into ever since hearing of Mr Weasley's death. "Okay," he breathed.
The two boys sat down opposite each other on two beds.
"Well, what's with the travelling gear?" Ron pressed.
Harry forced his face into grim determination to hide the expression of grief, "You were right earlier. We can't just keep sitting here any more. I can't just sit here anymore."
They lapsed into silence.
"You know it's funny,"
"What is?" Ron asked.
"I haven't actually lost anyone close to me through this second coming, not like this. I mean, Hagrid had to leave yes, but he isn't… he isn't dead." He looked directly at Ron. "Your dad is still at home in your world and I don't know what it's like there but here he was my surrogate father. I'm fed up of people dieing for me."
"So you're running away?"
"Of course not!"
"Then what-" Ron looked again at the stuffed bag to see the invisibility cloak, food, and water, everything needed for a quick getaway. But he also spied the advanced defence books. "You were going to go after him," he gasped in disbelief.
Harry jumped off the bed and started pacing. "Yes. Yes, I was. Don't give me that look! You said yourself that I needed to do something."
Ron jumped up as well, "I said that we needed to do something. You don't go out there alone and get yourself killed!"
"What's going on in here?" came Hermione's voice from the doorway, "You could hear the shouting from the stairway."
"Nothing," Ron spoke staring straight at Harry, "Just that our friend here has gone suicidal on us."
Hermione shut the door behind her and muttered a silencing charm. Nobody noticed the grey rat in the shadows.
"You know that only I can do this. Why are you trying so damn hard to stop me?" Harry pleaded to Ron.
"Will one of you please give me some details," Hermione broke in.
Harry answered, "I've decided to go after Voldemort by myself. Not one more person is going to die for me."
"What Harry doesn't realise is that his plan wont work. My Harry has met the nemesis more times than you have. I have more experience."
"Ron, why don't you give Harry some examples?" Hermione knew that vague comments weren't the way to persuade the-boy-who-lived against from his hero complex- even if she had had comparably less familiarity with it.
Ron settled down on his bed to collect his thoughts into a report style. "Well your wands won't work against each other so duelling is out of the question." He elaborated when he saw their confused faces, "We finally got it out of you that yours and V-Voldemort's wands share the same core so they go all weird on each other, it's called Priori Incantem. That's why you cannot go after him by yourself in a duel! Trust me on this."
"So what am I meant to do?"
Ron paused. "I honestly don't know," he admitted depressingly.
The other two friends collapsed onto the same bed on which Ron had slumped and silence enveloped the room.
"There is one thing," Ron spoke slowly.
"What?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know how important this is but here that monster still can't touch Harry physically. Your blood was never used to make him human was it?"
Harry shook his head in response.
"There is also the fact that for every challenge Harry has, Voldemort has the same problem." Hermione added.
"Great," Harry muttered, "Something else I can share with the evilest wizard in the world."
Quiet settled again though this time it had a slightly less depressed shadow.
"Oh, I miss this," Hermione sighed.
"What? Talking about the many ways I could die!"
"Harry don't be silly. I mean here, like this. A moment of pure relaxation. No worries, no danger-"
"No homework."
"Ron!"
He laughed and lifted he head from the prone position he lay in to see Hermione glaring at him whilst stifling a smile.
He turned to look at Harry who was resting his head on the pillows staring at the canopy. "It's been great to have you back Ron," he spoke quietly.
Ron smiled painfully. He wasn't back. This wasn't his home. But how he wanted it to be! Aside from the atrocities going on outside the dormitory door this part of the world was calm. It was a great feeling to be laughing with his friends again during these last few weeks. He wondered fleetingly whether Harry was still being his moody self back home.
But remembering what was really happening outside the safety net of their friendship brought him back down to earth. Allowing his thoughts to wander he had remembered the reason he's been trying to find Harry and Hermione in the first place.
"Erm, I'm not sure if I want to bring this up now but I have to. Where's Ginny? She needs to know about Dad."
Their uncomfortable faces and inability to meet his eyes made him certain that ignorance was indeed bliss- he really didn't want to know the answer.
(1)- the muggle equivalent would be of an ostrich lifting its head from the sand.
AN: Thank you again for your reviews and to nattieb as always.
You should all now know the huge, great important thing that Ron has forgotten to tell anyone about, although one of you did get it last chapter.
Bye Bye
