The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 6

When the mail arrived that morning Ron was startled to find a large funny-looking parcel hanging from poor little Pigwidgeon's claws. He could barely fly with that thing attached to his legs, and Ron felt somewhat sorry for him - even though he was still a bloody menace after more than four years in Ron's care. His fellow classmates looked anticipatedly at him while he opened the package.

Within it was a fellytone - one of those odd machines that Muggles used to contact each other. Frowning, Ron turned the puke green plastic object in his hands wondering what the bloody Hell he was supposed to do with that. He scrambled through the remaints of the wrapping paper. No note.

"Who's that from?" Parvati Patil asked, evidently unfamiliar with the Muggle machine.

"I don't know," Ron said with honesty.

Maybe someone was trying to make a joke of him. Automatically he lifted his gaze to look at Malfoy - the most obvious bully to pull such a trick on him - but then he remembered that the Slytherin had been dead for exactly two years. Weird, that was. That very day two years earlier Malfoy had been pestering Ron and Harry as usual, and then later that night McGonagall had found Harry in the trophy room, delirius and acting really strange, mumbling to himself in parseltongue, and when she had gone to investigate the circumstances further she had found Malfoy dead with a hideous cut in the back of his head. Rumours had it that some dark wizard had gained entry to the school with the intention to kill Harry but instead stumbled over Malfoy. Since he had seen the perp he had had to die.

Simple theory, but Ron had always thought that it stank. Something just was not right about it.

The business with the fellytone delivery puzzled him the whole day and kept his mind busy. It was a good thing that someone had sent it to him, because it made him forget about having lost both his best friends in less than a month's time. He even took it to bed with him that night. It was only eight o-clock, but he could not stand being in the common room any longer; everyone was just talking about the upcoming graduation, which was in fact only two months away.

Just as he decided to put the disgustingly green thing away and try to get some sleep it rang. Scared half out of his wits, Ron jumped out of bed and backed away from the hateful machine.

It rang again. Again. Again.

"Why is it doing that?" Ron whined.

Then he remembered what his father had told him about Muggle fellytones. You were supposed to lift the handle-thingy and put it to your ear to answer it, right?

He approached it cautiously, then snatched up the handle and said, "Hello?"

"Ron? Is that you?"

Ron could have fallen down dead at that very moment. It was Harry!

"Harry! Blimey, you scared the shit out of me! Why on Earth did you send me a fellytone?"

"A what? Oh, you mean the telephone," the friend said at the other end of the line. "Yeah, I bewitched it so it would work without the cord being plugged into an outlet."

"The what being plugged into a what?"

"Never mind. Ron, I... I had to talk to you, but I can't risk going to the school..."

Harry fell silent. Ron had the feeling that their conversation would not at all be as pleasant as he had recently hoped for. "Whatsamatter, Harry? You sound... different."

Harry was still silent over at wherever-the-Hell-he-was, and it actually made Ron a little worried. Then, the words that he had never imagined to hear coming from Harry's mouth:

"I killed him, Ron."

Ron dropped the handle-thingy, which fell to the stone floor and made a hollow, clinging sound that echoed in the dorm. Shaking visibly he plucked it up again. "Wha-what did you say, Harry?" His voice was trembling.

A moment's silence.

"I killed him."

Ron scratched his head, wondering what to do, what to say. "Um... don't mind me asking, but... who is it that you supposedly killed?"

"Malfoy."

Temporarily dumbstruck because of the irony in the situation, Ron heard himself say, "What? You killed Lucius?"

"No, Ron... Draco. I killed Draco. Two years ago today, remember?"

"But... but you couldn't have killed Draco," Ron protested, "that was some dark wizard that broke into the school-"

"Oh, is that what they're saying to cover it up?"

Ron frowned. "Cover it up?" he echoed blankly. "What d'you mean?"

"Since I ran away from school I've been doing some digging, and I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore covered my arse back there for some reason. Probably because he still expects me to save the wizarding community and the rest of the world from Voldemort-"

"Don't say that name!"

"Sorry."

"So basically what you're saying is that Dumbledore let you get away with murder simply because of that prophecy that Trelawny had all those years ago?"

"Yes. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's the truth."

"I believe you. And let me say, if it really were you who killed that bastard Malfoy... I'm proud of you, mate. Couldn't have done a better job, myself."

Harry was silent for a long while before finally replying. "Ron, I'm not proud of what I did. I was only acting on pure self-defense, and his hitting his head on that coat of armour was an accident, I never meant for it to happen and I deeply regret it. I'm having nightmares about it at night, I sleep ill... Ron, there are no advantages to murder."

Ron too was silent for a while before replying. "Sorry, mate. Got carried away a bit there. You're right - even if that bastard deserved to die a very painful death... So, what d'you want me to do? Because I'm guessing you're not sharing this information with me just for the fun of it." A half-hearted but not well-recieved attempt at a joke.

"I wanted to tell someone else about it in case something happens to me."

The frown on Ron's face deepened into a scowl. "Harry, is there something you're not telling me? Are you in any danger?"

"I'm not sure... Listen, I can't speak to you much longer, but keep the telephone in your trunk and I'll contact you again when I get the chance, okay? Just keep this secret for me, eh, mate?"

"O'course, you can count on me."

"Cheers, mate. Cheers."

It had to be done quickly, before he had the time to inform anyone else about the true events that had taken place only two years previously. He had never dared to think that the Weasley boy would become a threat to his greater plan, but since that day had come he needed to act before anything got in his way. There was only one thing to do.

Therefore he snuck into young Ronald's dorm at night, carrying a huge fluffy pillow. It was now or never.

Dumbledore pushed the pillow down onto the boy's face and held it fast until his breathing had subsided and there was no pulse.

Then he returned to the Headmaster's suite to get a good night's sleep.