Another double chapter update…but this is because I promised longer chapters some time ago, and alone these are just too short. Enjoy.

Chapter 29

I wish I had my bloody wand! Ron thought angrily, roughly pushing his red bangs away from his eyes. Why didn't he cut his hair last week when he had thought about it? Sitting perched on his broom (glad that this was one of the magical items that didn't require the use of a wand to operate) and staring out through the dark, he dreaded the moment he saw anything looming and prayed that he was wrong about the Dragon Lord's intent. He would be ecstatic to know that the school was in fact safe and that he had once again been a complete idiot, but deep down he knew that that was not the case. Why did he suddenly have to start being right about things?

The broom he rode shifted slightly under a sudden gust of wind but Ron controlled it easily. Even after two years of not riding one and the fact that it was a school broom (which were notorious for being in horrid shape), he was still able to control it with little thought. On his way out of the warm and familiar castle he had detoured directly to the first years flying supply shed, intent on obtaining one of its copious tools. It had been warded against tampering of course, the teachers at Hogwarts were not daft, but they had apparently assumed that locking wards were the only thing needed to keep students out. Ron didn't even pause as he lifted his foot and kicked with all his strength at the lock. Four kicks and a sore foot later the door had smashed inward and he had snagged the closest broom to him and taken to the sky. He didn't think McGonagall would mind, but if she did it wasn't as though she could deduct house points from him.

Ron had no idea where Forge was at that time seeing as he had apparated to the Forbidden Forest about an hour after they had reached land. Scotland, being where Hogwarts was located, was at the opposite end of the continent and Ron had no idea how long it would take to fly there; it had already taken them too much time to fly this far. He'd clambered his way through the dense foliage while cursing at his stiff limbs to work properly. After alerting Dumbledore to the potential disaster and doing his best to ignore everyone else around him (including the absolutely delicious aroma's of the feast) he had found himself without a dragon, and therefore with no means to get into the sky. Flying a broom was ten times better then flying a dragon…or sitting on a dragon's spiny back as they flew you wherever they felt was necessary. Ron had spent so much time leaning against his dragon's back that he was sure he had indentation marks along his entire torso from the beast's spikes. His jacket was completely shredded all down the front and the only reason he didn't throw the damp material away yet was because it was the only thing keeping the cold wind from tearing at his skin. That was something at least.

After leaving his brother Ron had been stuck to Forge like glue all day and night, until the next mornings light had broken across the sky. It hadn't been a beautiful sunrise to experience seeing as clouds blanketed the sky and didn't let a single unhindered beam of light touch the earth. It was after this that Forge had decided he needed a rest. Half an hour later they were back in the air, following the path the dragon was certain their quarry was on. By mid-morning they reached the west coast and, amazingly, stumbled upon a group of older dragons that needed more rest before following their leader and comrades across the sea. The interesting thing about their rest spot, secluded by rocky outcrops and forests, was that it looked as though more then just the old stragglers had stopped there.

Ron had stiffly and ungracefully slid off Forge and crept about the rocks, avoiding the large piles of dung and wishing he had a nose plug as he picked his way around. He came upon the remnants of a fire and couldn't help grinning fiercely as he realized what it was. The Dragon Lord had needed to stop so they could rest before crossing the sea, and this had been his camping place. They must have spent the entire night here. Ron kicked at the soggy logs and ashes and looked out across the area to see if there was anything informative he needed to see.

He was just turning away as something on the ground caught his eye and he squatted next to the ash pile and carefully moved a burnt log out of the way. It was a soggy piece of newspaper that ripped even as he carefully picked it up. It was burnt and in a language Ron didn't understand, but the headline and a few emboldened words caught his attention immediatly. They read: Hogwarts, Summit, Voldemort, and there was a picture of several important looking individuals shaking hands on the cover (though most of the picture was missing and it looked like floating arms were randomly greeting the official looking people).

Hogwarts, Summit, and Voldemort. Ron had long held the belief that he was no good at riddles, but this one became clear in his mind instantly. The insane Voldemort worshiping wizard had discovered that Mortie had been obliterated, and now he wanted revenge. What better place then Hogwarts, especially since there seemed to be some kind of important meeting taking place there. He could mangle the wizarding world's political security, kill a bunch of innocents, and get revenge on those that had been mostly responsible for Mortie's deaths. Ron had abruptly dropped the ruined paper and sprinted back to Forge without caring if the dragons hidden down the beach would hear him. In moments they were flying in a mad dash out over the ocean, the waves swelling and crashing below them and Ron in a panic that he would be too late and all the innocent people, all those young children, would be torn apart.

Now, perched on his broom above the shrieking shack, seeing the lights of the school behind him but knowing they couldn't see him in the darkness, he was beyond thankful that Forge was so fast. It was no doubt easier to travel when you didn't have to worry about crashing into other dragons, but the speed they had made had been fantastic. Ron had closed his eyes for most of it, but that didn't mean he wasn't impressed. Forge must have been built for speed in the dragon world, maybe that was why he was smaller then many.

His hands were numb from the cold and if it wasn't for Whip's warm presence curling around his right hand and arm he was sure he'd be having more difficulty holding onto the broom. He contemplated pulling his hood over his head again to block the slight wind and hopefully stop his drizzle dampened hair from freezing, but he made no move for the extra protection. The hood blocked most of his vision, only allowing him to see straight ahead. It was for this reason he preferred his woollen cap, but he had left that, along with his scarf and gloves, at his shelter when Forge had urgently demanded his attention the day before. It hadn't mattered so much during the trip seeing as Forge was a furnace in himself, but now it would have been a nice bit of extra comfort.

He frowned at himself for having such useless thoughts and sat straighter on the broom, pulling his torn jacket tightly about him. Extra comfort wasn't something he really allowed himself anymore, so there was no use in complaining. Besides, he'd be warm enough when the fire breathing monsters finally arrived. Feeling compelled he leaned forward and sent his broom off over the forbidden forest heading towards the deeper areas; the areas where dark creatures such as Argog (he pressed his lips tightly as he remembered what that horrid, furry, creepy, disgusting monster looked like) resided. He swooped low over the shadowy tree tops keeping an eye out for anything that might jump out and grab him. The energies coming from the forest were becoming heavier and heavier the further he went until he felt as though he had slammed into a solid wall. He swerved away and hovered mid air several meters back from where the oppressive dark energy had slammed into him and fought to catch his breath. He hadn't been prepared for that surprise.

Swallowing firmly, forcing back the bile that threatened to rise, he edged forward at a turtles pace, creeping up to and past the point that had just stopped him in his tracks. Now that he was prepared for the oppressive energy he could approach it slowly, though he hoped it wouldn't become any worse, seeing as it was difficult enough to concentrate and not fly off whimpering as it was. Come on Weasley, you've been through shadier energies then this, just remember Voldemort! His pep talk didn't make him feel any better, but a moment later he found what was causing the strange, dark energies swirling around him. There was a clearing (he hovered right over a tree and wondered if he'd be better off just sitting in its top branches) and every minute or so a short flash of light would flare into existence, illuminating the area. The fire breathing dragons were unable to control all of their exhales as they stood, sat, and lay around on the now trampled ground. Oh Merlin, there are a lot of soulless creatures down there he thought in a slightly panicking mind.

There were at least thirty! He stared intently down at the group, waiting for the puffs of fire to enlighten the area and count how many dragons were gathered. It looked like thirty-five, give or take a few. He backed away just as slowly as he had approached and then turned around sharply, heading back to the school as fast as the broom would allow, which wasn't as fast as he would have liked but it would do. Thirty-five dragons….they could handle this! They could! It really wasn't that many, just so long as they could actually curse them. Charlie and his friends hadn't been having any luck with their defensive skills, but that was okay because they had Dumbledore and he should be able to do something. Oh he hoped that the great wizard could do something, because Ron wasn't sure how they could survive this battle.

"Harry mate, it looks like I might be joining you soon enough." He muttered darkly as he began thinking about how to stop the battle. It wasn't long before he could see the lights of Hogwarts and was passing over the massive lake. They would be on the roof top and they needed to formulate some sort of plan and quick. He sharply adjusted his height, flew around the same tower he had jumped from two years before, and then landed on the center of the roof top…or at least he tried to land. He had forgotten that when traveling at high speeds one simply did not just stop. Stupid wanker. He hurriedly pulled himself to his feet, not having time to be embarrassed and headed straight to the Headmaster, who was standing alone across the castle top and watching him intently. There was absolutely none of that merriment twinkling in his eyes that Ron had grown up with. This was not the time for joking.

"There's thirty-five of them waiting in the forest." He stated as he stopped four feet from the wizard. Dumbledore made absolutely no move to step closer, for which Ron was eternally grateful; he was to wound up right now to worry about whether he could truly trust those around him to get close enough to touch. Instead the wizened wizard looked off to a group of people across the roof and nodded at them. Ron shifted uneasily on his feet as he watched them take into the air on brooms and head off towards the lake.

"They will provide the first wave of defence, which will hopefully distract our foe's enough to surprise them with a second attack."

"I hope you have more of a plan then simply charging in head first." Ron exclaimed, the knot of worry that had been cramping his stomach for hours now tightened as his trained eyes watched the small group of wizards and witch's stop and hover in the distance, far separated from each other.

"We are more prepared then your brother and his colleague's were for these creatures thanks to your courageous efforts to warn us." Ron didn't allow the praise to sink into his racing mind he was so focused on his worry. All he heard and acknowledged was that they had some sort of plan, even if he had no idea what it was. He was confident that Dumbledore would be able to do something, and Ron knew for a fact that most professors of Hogwarts were not ones to be taken lightly. However, they had never had to face such a massive and violent army before…at least not that he knew of. He suddenly thought of how absurd this entire situation was and he resisted the urge to laugh out loud, as it might make him appear crazy (which he very well might be at this point).

Couldn't anything ever happen on a small scale in the wizarding world, or even in his own life? Why did almost everything of importance situate around scenarios of life and death? How did he end up leaving Hogwarts as a fugitive, loosing everything that had ever been important to him, become a prisoner, live the life of a hermit, befriend two fairies and a dragon and then end up back at Hogwarts for a battle to save it? Fate, it seemed, had a sense of irony. If he survived this he would be carted off to Azkaban (or some special lockup in the basement of London's ministry building), the very thing he had been afraid of from the beginning, and he no longer cared. It didn't seem to matter any more, nothing really did, except that they had to win this battle and they had to save the students.

He hadn't used magic in two years (though he had greatly missed it the entire time) but it would have made him feel one hell of a lot better to have his wand. He didn't voice his concern to Dumbledore, nor comment on the wizard's words. It was odd to suddenly be in the man's presence again, feeling the energy crackling in the air around him. He had never noticed before exactly how much power resided in him, simply standing next to him now made the hair on his neck stand on end. He peaked a side-glance at the unyielding stance of the headmaster, noting that his long white beard seemed to have grown a little more but the normally grinning cheeks seemed slightly sunken and were rose coloured due to the frigid air. Ron couldn't see his right arm, but he could envision the wand that was held lightly in it, relaxed and prepared for battle. Dumbledore had seen many battles, and Ron hoped this wouldn't be his last.

He looked back out over the castle wall and spotted the distant shadows suddenly looming in the darkened sky. He sucked in a single breath of fear, and then forced himself to push his emotions aside. The only feeling remaining was one of intense concentration and a slight tingling in his hands that he clenched into tight fists.

"Headmaster, they're coming." Though the headmaster couldn't see that far into the darkness he didn't question his young companion's insight and nodded once in response. Silently he sent a magical warning out to prepare everyone and then he stood still once again. Together they watched as the shadows turned into shapes, growing closer and closer.

TBC

On to the next chapter!