I can't believe it's over a year since I've updated. I started this chapter and nearly finished it 50 times but I've had writers' block, writers' doubt, writers' confusion and all the rest. I hope it's not as disjointed as I thnk it should be considering how many times it was reworked, but as always your reviews are very much welcome.
Six
"Trouble Comes in Several Directions at Once."-Garth Nix
Late 10th Century, A.D.
Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands
Godric Gryffindor knew all too well that there was nothing like a first day at Hogwarts. As he watched the newest crop of students gorge upon the Great Feast, he couldn't help but smile with satisfaction.
This Sixth Class of Hogwarts promised to be the best yet. It was bound to put that Ninth Class of Beaubaxtons to shame. Especially because of a very special new addition. This was to be the first class of Hogwarts to have a Seventh Son.
Being a Seventh Son himself, Godric felt a great deal of pride that his faithful old Hat had placed the lad in his House. He would design a curriculum especially for him, suited to his unique talents, and maybe, just maybe the Wand would choose him.
Those among Gryffindor's family and closest friends knew never to mention the subject of the Wand in his presence. The fact that it did not belong to any of his sons (though they secretly coveted it) was a great source of disappointment for Godric.
But now, he finally believed that his Heir had arrived, that he would live to see the wand choose an Owner, someone worthy of following in his footsteps.
He'd thought of practically nothing else for the past eleven years when it was announced that a Seventh Son had been born in England. His spirits had roared. He had little doubt that his Heir was arriving, for he'd had many visions and they all pointed to the wand picking a young man in Gryffindor. And now a Seventh Son? All doubt had vanished from his mind.
Once the feast has ended, he retired to his chambers for a word with his Hat. He was longing to know what Cato had truly thought of the Boy. After all, the Hat had spent nearly fifteen minutes on his head, surely whatever he'd seen had clearly intrigued him. It was so far the longest Hatstall in Hogwarts' history.
He sat down in his chair with a goblet of mead, for a today was a day of celebration, of merriment and song. In honor of the arrival of the Seventh Son, he'd play a visit to all of his wives this evening. Oh, what a grand little ditty that would be!
"Cato! Cato, a word, a word my good man," he called before downing his mead.
Cato flittered off of his shelf and onto the chair opposite Godric.
"Yes, Godric?"
"Well, come of it, Cato. The boy, the boy. Tell thou, tell what thine done see in him."
"A good deal. He has much potential, much power."
"A fine choice for the wand, is he not?"
"Perhaps, it is too soon to speak of such things."
"Nonsense, Cato, the wand will surely choose him."
Cato hesitated. "Godric...thou should know, there is a great deal of cunning within that boy. I nearly, very nearly put him in Slytherin."
Godric's eyes widened at that. He put down his mead, his mood quelled a bit. "Slytherin? Damn my bloodline for a thousand years if I allow that to happen. Cunning, you say? Well, that can be a good thing. Why did you decide on my House for the boy?"
"He has not the cleverness for Ravenclaw, nor the dutifulness for Hufflepuff. He has immense talent, strong will, powerful magic. But he desires no power, he has no ends to reach...yet. Therefore, Gryffindor seemed best. Up until now, his schemes have been for at times necessity and other times, attention. You see, he does not know yet that he should want power, he does know yet of ends and the means to reach them. In Slytherin, he would learn those lessons quickly. Too quickly for anyone's good. Power like that in a young man who's never been taught ambition, in the hands of Dear Salazar? I think not."
"You are wise, my friend, quite wise. Should we be alarmed about his cunning?"
"As powerful as he is, as powerful as he will become, that would be a wise stance to take. He has a good heart, but those are easily corrupted."
"Still, the wand, the wand will choose him, Cato. I know it will. And I shall guide him through. His cunning will be kept under regulation, used only to outsmart his enemies."
Cato sighed. Godric Gryffindor was not known for his humility. His obsession with the wand was unsettling and could prove to be problematic, especially since he was not the only one obsessed with it.
Wizards, Cato thought with derision. They were obsessed with acquiring power yet had not the slightest idea of how to go about keeping it.
Godric, in his magical brilliance, had created potentially the most powerful wand to ever grace the universe, and in his human insipidity, had actually told people about it.
Though Godric had not proclaimed the actual the reason the wand had been created (that much of a fool he was not), the notion that other wizards might rationalize that the only reason for making such a wand would be in fact to protect something more powerful had not occurred to him.
But said rationalization had come to Slytherin, that Cato knew without having to spend one second on his head. Salazar would think, Salazar would deduce and then Salazar would covet.
"Godric, promise me something: that you will wait and see how the boy develops. His own power is corrupting enough, to place that wand and its charge in his care so early would not be...prudent."
"If he is truly my Heir, it is his Duty, it is his by right."
"Well then, let's make sure he's your Heir. Send for Ollivander."
"Ollivander is the Americas with Merlin on a secret mission. He will not return until the end of year at least."
"Perhaps you should not reveal the wand to the boy until we have conferred with Ollivander."
Before Godric could respond, there was a knock on the door, an unmistakable knock on the door.
"Come, Salazar," Godric said before taking another gulp of mead.
Salazar entered swiftly and silently, his black and green robes slithering behind him like a snake's rattle.
"Godric," Salazar smiled at his oldest, dearest and least trusted friend. "An excellent crop this year, I think. Especially that lad. He's a special one."
"Yes, quite special," Godric agreed. "Perhaps the brightest one we've had yet."
"My feelings exactly," Salazar said as he sat down in the chair next to Cato's. He conjured up a goblet of red Goblin-made wine. "Which is why I feel we must be of the same mind on this matter," he said as he took a sip
"Pray tell, what matter would that be?"
"Well, with the boy's power and potential, I feel he must take lessons with me, with all of us," he quickly added.
"You will have him for Transfiguration, will you not?"
"Yes, yes, but this boy will need special attention, tutoring, nurturing. Surely, you must agree."
"I agree that the boy will need such things. But I have that in hand, I assure you."
"Assurances aside, I think I speak for myself as well Helga and Rowena, that we must make sure that this boy's magical education is complete as can be. All four of us must take a hand in it. There is no alternative."
Godric pondered for a moment, a chessboard silently laid out in front of him. Salazar had always been quite the strategist, but two could play that game.
"I believe you're right Salazar," Godric said, ignoring Cato's surprised gaze. "All must play a role in the boy's education. His potential is too great. He must have the very best that this school can offer him."
Salzar smiled, his knight taking Godric's rook. "I knew we could come to a consensus on this matter, my good man," he said as he raised his glass.
Godric returned the gesture. "We shall speak in the morning about the special lesson plans for the boy. All four of us can break our fast in my quarters."
"Excellent," Salazar said. He drained his glass and waived it away. He took his leave, leaving an alarmed wizard and a perplexed hat in his wake.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Godric," Cato said, shaking his tip.
"If there's to be trouble, best have it where I can see it. I shall let my friend have his way. And in his attempts at getting me to reveal my hand, he may just reveal his own."
September 1991
Hogwarts Castle, Headmaster's Office
Scottish Highlands, UK
"We're dead," Hermione said for the ninth time. "They're going to kill us, or worse, expel us. This is absolutely horrid. And it's all your fault!"
Ron rolled his eyes. "My fault? It's not my fault you can't fly to save your life. We never would have been out there if it weren't for you!"
"Well, you shouldn't have offered to help me! I'm perfectly capable of learning things on my own. I don't need some precious Seventh Son to help me!"
"Excuse me for trying to be nice!" he snapped, unable to keep the venom out of his tone.
The two of them were waiting outside Dumbledore's office where the adults who had found them were currently having a discussion. A discussion that doubtlessly included enormous punishments for the both of them.
Hermione, who had never known anything but praise and accolades from her teachers, hadn't the slightest notion of how to react and was currently near a conniption.
Ron, who was used to the ire of his governess, merely wanted the whole thing over with. Of course, in the back of his mind, expulsion was a very real possibility.
After all, it had taken Fred and George two whole weeks to wind up in the headmaster's office.
"Not to mention," Ron continued. "I did save your life."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Excuse me, but I thought it was me that saved yours."
"I'm the one the one that got us out of the Pitch," Ron countered.
"And I'm the one that stopped that fireball from turning us into empanadas! Besides, we never would've been out there if it weren't for you. It serves me right for trying to break the rules. First years aren't allowed out after curfew or near the brooms. So, we nearly get ourselves killed and worse, we're about to be asked to leave Hogwarts!"
Ron shook his head. "Did anyone ever tell you that your priorities might be a bit out of order?"
Before Hermione could answer, they heard footsteps on the stairs. They both turned to look to see Duncan bounding up the stairs in a flurry. He came to an instant stop when he saw the two of them, levelling them both with an icy glare.
He didn't speak, only knocked on the door. "Come in, Duncan," came a voice that could only belong to Dumbledore.
"Well, we're dead now," Ron said, dejectedly. He knew that look. Duncan was pissed. "Of course, when my parents find out about this, they'll kill me again."
"Parents?" Hermione cried, horrified. "Do you think they'll tell our parents?"
"Are you dense or something? Of course, they're going to tell our parents! McGonagall has probably already written the letters. She's got my address memorized, all the bloody letters she had to write because of Fred and George!"
"I've never been in trouble with a teacher, never! Oh, why did I listen to you? Flying's not all that important to begin with!"
"That's not what you were thinking after class!" he shot back, not realizing what he had just said.
Hermione's eyes narrowed instantly. "You read my thoughts?" she was clearly outraged.
"Well...yes, but not on purpose! I can't control it sometimes!"
"Oh, of course not," she retorted her voice dripping in sarcastic derision. "What's next, you're going to read the teachers' mind when they're writing up our exams?"
"I don't even know how to do that!"
"Everything so easy for you because you're a Seventh Son, isn't it? Why are you even at Hogwarts if you know everything already?"
"I don't know everything. I'm still learning. And it's not my fault! You try dealing with it and see how it really feels. And in case, you haven't noticed, someone tried to kill me!"
"Oh, you're positive they were after you, are you?"
"Well, duh!"
"They could've been after me."
"Yeah, sure. And by the way, that's not something to sound happy about."
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. This was getting nowhere. In truth, they weren't really mad at each other. The situation had been utterly terrifying.
Ron could sense Hermione's fear, compounded with his own, not to mention his dread of what was going on behind those doors.
"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, you may enter," came the cold, stern voice of their head of House.
The two gulped but got to their feet and shuffled in. Duncan stood by a window, arms folded, clearly unhappy.
Professors Snape and Lupin were both there, as were Dumbledore and McGonagall.
"Won't you two sit down?" Dumbledore asked rather calmly, but it still sounded like a command.
Even without being an empath, Ron could sense the tension in the room. At first, he thought it was because they were angry (which indeed they were), but there was more to it, much more and he couldn't quite place or define it.
"Am I to understand," Dumbledore continued after they had sat. "That all this is a result of wanting to fly?"
Ron and Hermione nodded, though neither of their heads rose from its downward position.
"Well, your first day at Hogwarts barely completed and you've nearly burned down the Quidditch Pitch," an inch of amusement crept into the Headmaster's voice. "I must say, Remus, they might you and your friends a run for your money."
Professor Lupin didn't smile. "What on Earth were you thinking? First years are not allowed to fly unless it's during class. You know that. Not to mention, you were out after curfew. This is cause for expulsion."
"Ron was only trying to help me with my flying, Professor. We didn't mean any harm," Hermione said, her voice small.
"Be that as it may, nothing gives students the right to be out after curfew. I explained to you all, mere hours ago, that rule-breaking will not be tolerated," came a very stern Professor McGonagall. "But the severity of the crime balanced against House Points loss, I can hardly fathom."
"I don't think it necessary to punish the whole house in this matter, Minerva," Dumbledore said with a smile. "What say you to ten points each and a month's worth of detention?"
McGonagall was very surprised. "I would say that quite generous of you, Albus, and more than they deserve."
Snape was aghast. "Headmaster, you cannot be serious. Fifty points each at least. Anything less and there will be no lesson learned. And I daresay Potter had something to do with this. For I have never seen Mr. Weasley without him," this from Ron's least favorite teacher.
"I must agree with Severus," came Duncan. "The punishment must be most severe."
"Perhaps the two of you are right," Dumbledore said reflectively, "but they were just fighting for their lives. I believe they have suffered enough. And I'm certain they will suffer more once the letters to their parents have been sent. I can count on you for that, Minerva. Ronald, Hermione, off you pop to bed. I believe I can count on you to refrain from any detours, yes?"
"Yes, sir," they both said and rose to leave.
"A moment, please," Dumbledore said. "I have been most forgiving on this occasion. I should not like to be put in this position again."
"Yes, sir," they agreed again.
"You may go. Pleasant dreams to both of you."
They scurried out of the headmaster's office as quickly as they could.
"That was too easy," Hermione surmised.
"Way, way too easy," Ron agreed.
"The question is why."
"Probably because they're more worried about whoever tried to kill us," Ron said quietly as they reached the Gryffindor room.
"Occulus Reparo," Hermione said after the Fat Lady asked for the password.
"Ron," called a cool, detached, but clearly unhappy voice. Ron and Hermione turned around to see Duncan striding towards them. Ron gulped as he knew he was in serious trouble.
Duncan didn't say a word until he was directly in front of them, his imposing height looming over them.
"Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said in a friendly, yet clearly dismissive tone. Hermione took the hint and hurried inside the dorm.
Duncan waited until the door had closed behind them and ignored the Fat Lady's curious eyes.
"First of all: are you all right?" he asked, his tone a tad softer.
Ron nodded. "I'm fine."
"Good. Rule-breaking, though highly tempting, cannot be tolerated. You have much to learn. You have been granted a great many gifts and you must take hold of them responsibly. You cannot allow yourself to be distracted. Distractions can be quite dangerous."
"I was only trying to help Hermione with her flying."
"There is, I believe, a class for that, Ron. You cannot expect everyone to be at your level. It is useless to try to make them so."
"But she's brilliant, all the teachers think so. Except for Professor Snape, but all my brothers told me he was a git."
"Brilliant, she may very well be...by some standards. But you know, you must always hold yourself to a higher one."
Ron had heard the speech before and did his best not to roll his eyes. "You know, someone tried to kill me today."
"I do know," Duncan said. "And those Aurors...sodding idiots. How did they not notice you hadn't returned to your dorm?"
Ron shrugged. "Harry told them I didn't want to leave Neville by himself in the Hospital Wing."
"Ah, a scenario that they easily believed considering they know that you still harbor guilt over the flying accident."
Ron nodded.
"Ron, just because you can manipulate people around doesn't mean you should. Those Aurors are charged with your protection. And you see now, that there is every reason for it."
Ron's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "How was I supposed to know that there was someone out there trying to kill me?"
"Your parents have done an excellent job sheltering you, perhaps too excellent. Your attendance at Hogwarts has been much talked of in every watering hole from the Leaky Cauldron to the Ministry itself. There are dark forces at work and we must be ever vigilant of them. But in a way, it's good. Whoever came after you clearly did not anticipate having to come after you again. Otherwise, they never would've attempted it at Hogwarts and risk putting Dumbledore on alert. This means we're dealing with someone powerful and someone arrogant. It's a combination we can exploit to our advantage. They have shown their hand because they did not believe there would be a second match."
Ron didn't find the concept of someone coming after him again particularly appealing.
"Nor should you," Duncan replied without Ron voicing his opinion. "Nor should you make yourself a target in such a foolish way again. I will leave the specifics of your punishments up to your parents. And I will see that new Aurors are brought in at once. Ones that know how to manage their charge. If they don't know when an eleven-year -old is up to something, they certainly won't be equipped to handle whatever's coming next."
Duncan didn't seem quite so worried as the other teachers, but Ron knew he was unsettled. After all, his business in Finland wasn't supposed to be completed for another week and here he was.
"Duncan, I really am sorry about tonight."
Duncan nodded. "Off to bed, pip, pip. I'm certain a changed situation awaits you in the morning."
7th
Duncan could not have been more correct. When Ronald awoke that morning, gone were the unfamiliar and young Aurors that had previously been watching him.
The first year Gryffindor boys had barely dressed for breakfast when there was a knock on the on the entrance of their dormitory.
All of them looked up, somewhat pensive and alarmed.
"What'd you do now?" decried Seamus as he looked Harry to Ron and Neville, accusation written all over his face.
"Nothing," the three responded quickly. But no sooner than the words had left their lips then walked in Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
"Oh, shite," Harry said as he looked at Ron's famous Auror uncles.
"Hello Harry," Fabian and Gideon said with smiles on their faces, the same smiles Fred and George often had when they had pulled off a masterful prank.
"Bloody hell," Ron said as his eyes widened and he knew he was in for it.
"What's wrong, nephew mine?" Gideon asked with a grin. "Not happy to see us?"
"Always happy to see you, Gideon," Ron lied. "Just wondering why I'm seeing you...here."
"Relax, nephew mine," Fabian said with a cheeky grin that reminded Ron very much of his brothers. "The Auror Office hasn't assigned us to your detail, though that's the way your mother would have liked it. Mind, she's got steam coming out of her ears. You're in for the Howler of your life. No, we're investigating whoever it is that tried to do you in. Nice work, by the way. We've been saying the Pitch could do with some redecorating for years, now."
Ron rolled his eyes. His uncles were too much like his brothers or perhaps it was the other way round. All he knew was that he wasn't in the mood for either one before breakfast.
"So," Harry piped up. "If you're not Ron's new Auror team, who is?"
"Got a crew of hotshot crows for ya, Harry old boy," Gideon said with a smile. "Fresh off the academy and eager to prove themselves. Taron Moody and Barty Crouch, Jr."
"Bloody hell," all of them cried out except Seamus, to whom the names were foreign. Taron Moody was the same age as Bill, the son of legendary Auror Alastor Moody and Amelia Bones who was widely recognized as one of the best heads of the Magical Law Department Britain had ever known.
Taron, being the parents of world-famous Aurors, had plenty to prove and had wasted no time in going about it. Barty Crouch Jr, the son of Barty Crouch Sr, also a famous Auror and now a high-ranking member of the Ministry, Barty Jr was also more than eager to make a name for himself.
Ron, Harry, Neville and Dean all knew them personally. Both idolized Fabian and George, who had, naturally enough idolized their fathers. Dean had met them because Aurors-in-training were often posted to the security details of Quidditch players.
"Fabian, you can't be bloody serious," Harry cried knowing all too well that those two, eager to impress, would be watching their every single move.
"Oh, we're as serious as Merlin's sorcery, my son," Gideon said with a nod. "Obviously the three of you can't be trusted and if what we've heard from Remus is correct, you already found a girl who just as much trouble. So, Barty the petite and the second coming of Moody will be watching you. They're downstairs, getting briefed on your schedules by good ole McGonagall."
Fabian and Gideon grinned at each other. "Well, all right old chaps, we'll leave you to it. Barty and Taron will be up in a moment to escort you to breakfast."
The Prewett twins then left the dorm they had once called their own, leaving their nephew and his friends to ponder their new situation.
Harry looked at Ron, derision filling his eyes. This is all your fault. Now, we'll never have a moment of peace.
Oh come on, it won't be that bad, Ron lied. He knew it was going to be terrible. Taron and Barty were as obsessed with their duties as Oliver Wood was with Quidditch.
It was hard enough that Duncan had arrived. Ron knew that all his time was going to being dedicated to lessons, lessons and more lessons. And now, any moment he had away from Duncan, Taron and Barty Jr would be watching his every step.
Then there was the small matter that someone was trying to kill him. He didn't know or what or why. He was nervous and he was frightened.
He hadn't slept extremely well, there had been no visions or dreams and every unknown sound had made him start. He was too concerned with the waking nightmares he knew he'd face that morning.
He was doing his best to hide his uneasiness from his friends, but he didn't know if he was successful or not, especially from Harry.
After Seamus and Dean had left the dorm, Harry turned to face Ron.
"Mate. Are you all right? I mean, honestly?"
Ron shrugged. "Apparently, facing death is just a part of the whole gig."
Neither Harry or Neville looked particularly convinced but they didn't push. Before any of them could speak again, Barty Crouch Jr and Taron Moody entered the room.
Ron groaned inwardly. He felt like the end of his life was already beginning.
"Top of the morning, lads," said blond-haired, gray-eyed Taron with a knowing smile.
Barty, dark haired and slender, didn't smile and he didn't speak. Ron rolled his eyes. Clearly the apple didn't fall very far from the tree in the Crouch orchard.
"Mr. Weasley," Barty Jr said finally and very formally in a way that reminded Ron of Percy on his worst days. "We are to escort you and Ms. Granger to the Professor Snape's office this morning before breakfast."
"Why?" Ron asked, hesitating.
"Inquisitive git, aren't you?" said Taron with another large smile. "I suppose you'll find out when you get there, won't you?" Ron quite correctly surmised that Taron and Barty Jr. didn't know what was going on.
At that moment, Hermione emerged from the dorm. She looked rather tired as if she hadn't slept well either. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Barty and Taron.
"You must be Hermione Granger," Barty said coolly.
Hermione nodded in the affirmative.
"Very well. You're to come with us immediately."
"Am I being expelled?" Hermione, in a voice that spoke true horror.
"Expelled? No, of course not. You're not the first First-Year to light the pitch on fire. Though I daresay no one has ever done it before quite so soon," Taron said. "Now, pip, pip, let's go. We don't want you two to miss breakfast."
Hermione and Ron nervously followed the two young Aurors out of Gryffindor Tower. They barely mumbled good morning to each other as they were both too exhausted from the previous events to waste time on pleasantries.
As they were being shuffled away Professor Snape's office, Ron managed a look out of a window that faced the Pitch.
He could see his uncles along with Remus examining the pitch. Several other Aurors seemed to be assisting them. Even from that distance, he could sense that they were all very uneasy. Which made him feel even more nervous.
But he had no time to think about it, his new bodyguards were quickly ushering him away.
7th
The adults were, in fact, greatly unsettled by the recent events at Hogwarts. It seemed whenever there was trouble, real trouble brewing in the Magical World, it always managed to start at the school.
"What do you think we're dealing with, Remus?" Fabian asked as he looked at the blackened grass along the pitch.
"Fiendfyre, definitely," Remus said kneeling to pluck some of the grass from the pitch, it disintegrated immediately into ash. "All of this will have to be removed and replaced. Watered with phoenix tears to bring it back quickly."
"Hagrid will see to that," said Fabain "The question is would who be brazen enough to use Dark Magic to go after two first-years right under Dumbledore's nose?"
"Someone who didn't anticipate the children's resourcefulness," said Duncan as he approached them. "Someone who planned on finishing them off then and there."
"We're dealing with a very powerful user of Dark Magic," Gideon chimed in. "The question is why, why would they come after Ron? Because he's a Seventh Son?"
Remus sighed. "Dark Wizards lie in wait for years waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Perhaps they've been planning something and Ron's attendance at Hogwarts is unsettling to them."
Fabian looked skeptical. "Why come after him now? He's shown he's capable of defending himself? Wouldn't it have been easier to attack him when he was younger?"
"All the magical protection Arthur has on the Weasley estates, not to mention the Auror Office watching his every move may have made that difficult," Gideon surmised.
"You may be onto to something, there Gideon." Duncan agreed. "There is a reason they chose to strike at Hogwarts and there's a reason they chose to strike now. Ron has always been protected, kept under tight wraps. Hogwarts may be one of the safest places in Magical Britain, but it's not infallible. Especially, if you're already there."
Everyone started at his words. "Duncan, you don't mean to suggest that someone at Hogwarts is trying to harm Ron?" Remus said, horror creeping into his voice.
"Remus, no Dark Wizard from the outside could penetrate Hogwarts's walls and Dumbledore's many, many defenses. This particular devil is inside the walls. Eyes sharp, everyone. Someone here is not what they seem to be."
And with that the Scandanavian Seventh Son, twirled his long dark robes and headed back down the pitch towards the school.
"Is he always so cryptic?" Remus asked Gideon.
"According to Molly and Arthur, absolutely. He's not a very engaging chap, that one. But his job is to look after Ron. He seems to do a fine job with that."
"Yes," Fabian agreed. "And whoever did this waited until he was away. Someone knew Duncan would not be joining Ron at Hogwarts immediately. Someone has been watching our family. I think he's right. No one from the outside could have done this."
"We have to talk to Dumbledore," Leah said with a resigned sigh. "This could get very dangerous, very quickly."
"It already has," Gideon told her grimly. "Let's be careful. Only those that need to know should know about this. Let's not even tell his parents."
"Are you barmy?" Fabian looked at his brother in disbelief. "Molly will skin us alive."
"She'll also yank him straight out of Hogwarts if she thinks it isn't safe and we'll lose all chance we have of catching whoever's behind this."
The disbelief in Fabian's features grew. "You aren't suggesting we use our nephew as bait?"
"Fabian, this attack doesn't just scream arrogance, it screams a willingness to stop at nothing. Whoever did this, they're not going to stop. Using Ron as bait may be the quickest way to end it quickly."
"Gideon, if Duncan is right, then whoever is doing has been watching Ron for a long time. They might be desperate, but even desperate people can be patient. They'll not try anything now. Not with the Auror Office and Dumbledore on high alert. They'll wait, wait until they think we've forgotten and relaxed."
Gideon nodded. "We just need to make them think we forget and relax very quickly."
7th
Snape's office was by far the creepiest place Ron had ever been in. He was beginning to be convinced that the evil professor was secretly a vampire, as the thick, velvet curtains that covered every single window blocked out any trace of sunlight. Apparently, Barty and Taron thought so too, as they stood outside while Ron and Hermione had no choice but to go in.
Is he a bloody vampire? He heard Hermione's voice. His grinned, thankful that he wasn't the only one creeped out and realizing his telepathy was growing stronger. He then flinched at the thought. Hermione had not reacted kindly to the fact that Ron had previously read her thoughts, so it was probably best not to push it. Of course, there was very little Hermione had reacted kindly too.
He wanted to reply, but decided against it. She hacked off at him enough already and although he found fighting with her slightly entertaining, he wasn't in the mood for it at present.
No, at present, he had to worry about Snape. Unlike Hermione, Ron could sense very little from Snape. There was a general coldness and disinterest that radiated off of the man. As far as his thoughts went, Ron heard nothing but silence.
He didn't smile at them as they entered. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, sit down," he said in his languid, dramatic tone.
Ron and Hermione gulped, but they quickly complied. At this point, Ron was starting to think a Howler from his mother would've been better than this.
Snape scared the shit out of him. And worse, the mysterious professor seemed to know and relish in the fact that the two students were absolutely terrified of him. It was almost as if he wanted to scare them.
Once they sat down, the black-robed professor stood up, hovering over them. "I need the both of you to tell me what you saw last night when you so flagrantly disregarded nearly every rule ever laid out at Hogwarts." Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes. The professor's voice wasn't the only thing dramatic about him.
"We didn't see much, sir," Hermione said, her voice as small as Ron had ever heard it. "It was too dark."
Snape seemed to ponder this, huffed with mild disappointment and then turned to Ron. "And what of you, Mr. Weasley? What did you see?"
"Just the fire," Ron said honestly.
Before Snape could respond, Leah Grandelfleu entered the room. "Severus, you were supposed to wait for me," she said, shaking her head.
"You've missed nothing, Leah. They saw nothing of note. I'm afraid I have no choice."
"No choice for what?" Ron asked. He didn't know where he'd gotten the courage to speak, for he was still rather terrified, but he got the sense that something important was happening.
Leah turned a kind eye on Ron and Hermione. "Do either of you know Legilimency is?"
"It's the ability to read minds," Ron said.
Leah smiled. "Yes, and no. It's much more complex than that. I've been told Ron, that you have a natural talent for it, as you have so many natural talents. But it's much stranger than you realize. You see, our brains see so much even when our eyes don't realize it. Professor Snape is going to preform Legilimency on the two of you, to see if you saw anything, anything at all that could help us identify who tried to attack you. It may be even something you don't remember seeing. Now I want you two to try and relax and I want you to slowly think about what happened last night."
Hermione was petrified. Professor Grandelfleu wasn't scary as Snape but the thought of having her mind read was absolutely terrifying.
Ron, used to having his thoughts read by Duncan, shrugged. "Fine," he said thought it was clear he wasn't happy about it. He didn't want Snape in his head. There was enough going on already.
Ron could sense Hermione's unease at the whole thing and, for reasons unexplainable to even himself, he reached for her hand. "It's all right, Hermione. It doesn't hurt."
She clasped his hand in return and though the worried glance in her eyes never vanished, he could tell she felt a tiny bit better.
"Good," Professor Grandelfleu told them. "Now close your eyes and think about last night."
While very nervous about this, the two of them did best to stay calm while bringing the harrowing thoughts of the night before to mind. Ron thought he heard Professor Snape whisper an incantation, but he couldn't be sure because moments later he felt as if he could feel his mind being entered.
It was quite unsettling. He didn't know if Hermione felt the same way, because he could tell that her anxiety level hadn't gone up. She was nervous, but no more than before.
Moments later before he had any chance to do anything besides be confused, the sensation passed.
Another few unsettling of moments of disquiet passed and then Snape spoke again.
"You may go now," he said slowly. "Be quick about it. Breakfast is nearly over."
"Sir, did you see anything?" Hermione somehow found the bravery to ask.
"Do not concern yourself with such things, Ms. Granger. These things are for adults to deal with."
Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes as he figured Snape would take five points from Gryffindor if he caught him.
Professor Grandelfleu tried to be a bit nicer. "If we need to speak to you again, we shall. For now, I think it's best that the two of you try and enjoy your studies...and stay out of trouble."
With that, they were dismissed and quickly scurried out of the office.
As Barty and Taron quickly escorted them to the Great Hall, Hermione took a moment to speak.
"The professor's right," she whispered. "We should try and stay out of trouble."
"Somehow, I think that's going to be easier said than done," Ron whispered back. "Trouble seems to be following me."
"What are you two whispering about?" interrupted Barty Jr. "Plotting more daring escapes from the clutches of authority?"
Hermione and Ron both rolled their eyes. Hogwarts was bound to be even more insufferable with these two watching their every move, not to mention the murderous nutter on the loose.
Breakfast was indeed a very rushed affair. Harry had taken the liberty of getting them both plates and was keeping them hot with a warming charm. Ron had no problem quickly inhaling his food, but Hermione barely picked at hers
"Hermione, you won't have any energy to study if you starve yourself," Ron told her directly.
"Oh, who can eat at a time like this?" she replied but she took another bite of her scrambled eggs nonetheless.
"What did Snape want?" Neville asked.
Ron shrugged. "To read our minds." He said this with such an air of nonchalance, that he realized he was getting used to all the madness in his life. And that scared him more than anything, even the fact that someone was trying to kill him.
Everything that had happened recently from the wand, from the Heir of Gryffindor, to the visions, it had been all so much and yet, it was just beginning.
He hadn't even been at Hogwarts a week and already someone had already tried to kill him. Not to mention, both his parents were probably angry enough to kill him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the announcement that breakfast was ending and that lessons were beginning.
Flying lessons were cancelled for the day so the first years had Private Study before Charms. Hermione, more desperate than ever to make good impressions on her teachers, was the only person excited by this.
Though the incident on the Pitch had happened when the majority of the school was asleep, by the end of breakfast, everyone knew about it.
As Ron, Harry, Neville and Hermione made their way to the library, Ron could sense that nearly everyone's thoughts were turned to him. It felt as if a hot light was hovering over his head, singeing his hair and attempting to turn his brain into scrambled eggs.
Ron's new bodyguards, like the earlier ones, had received instruction to keep their distance during his lessons and school activities. They were mainly there to enforce curfews and keep Ron and his friends out of trouble. So, they escorted them to Private Study and then they were to have a meeting with Duncan.
Ron figured they were dreaming of ways to make his life even more miserable.
Private Study was a rather dull affair. Ron was too exhausted to concentrate, Hermione was too worried about herself to concentrate on anything else but studying and therefore had no time to chastise her friends about their lack of concentration.
Neville and Harry, both equally worried that their parents would figure out that they had something to do with the incident that had taken place, were also quiet, dreading letters from their parents.
Ron knew that everyone in his life (with the exception of his friends) had some kind of torturous punishment involved for him. As if he didn't have enough to worry about. He'd only been at Hogwarts three days and people were already trying to kill him. And then one of his visions had come true, this walking stack of books in the form of Hermione Granger that seemed destined to follow him for the rest of his life. Not to mention someone was trying to kill him and he didn't know why.
Was it because he was a Seventh Son? It wasn't like he'd done anything yet. He'd barely started school. Was it the whole Heir of Gryffindor/Gryffindor's wand thing? He hadn't asked for that either.
He hadn't asked for any of this. Why did it have to be him? No one had ever asked him what he wanted, how he felt. It was all becoming too much.
He wanted to be at home, or in London with his grandparents or in Egypt with Bill. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was. Going to Hogwarts had been his dream and now it seemed like it was turning into more a nightmare.
He looked up from Standard Book of Spells, unable to keep up the pretense of studying. But he found he was no longer in the library.
He was in the Astronomy Tower, or at least, he thought it was. Something about it seemed very different. He looked around and for a moment, he thought it was empty. And then he noticed a girl, clearly older than him, with very bushy, very brown hair. It reminded him of Hermione's hair, except she was taller.
Her back was to him and she was staring out of one of the windows, so he couldn't see her face. But then she spoke.
"It's true then, is it?" There was something about her voice that was familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. Her voice sounded strained, almost angry.
"It's true," said a voice, also familiar and yet foreign, but Ron couldn't tell where it was coming from. "I don't have a choice."
Her back, still turned away, stiffened. "There's always a choice." The anger in her voice seemed sharper.
"Not for me," replied her unseen conversant. "Never for me."
"So much for 'we're in this together,' right?" she spat, sounding on the verge of tears.
"It's too dangerous. You know it's dangerous. Look what's happened already."
The girl turned around and then Ron could see: it was Hermione. Taller, older and something else about her that he couldn't quite name, but it was definitely, definitely her. She looked hurt, she looked murderous and she seemed as if she was looking directly at him.
By now, he knew he was having a vision, but that didn't mean he was prepared for what he heard next.
"Ron, don't you dare—," said the other, older Hermione.
But the young Ron was never to know what it was the older Hermione was going to say. For as quickly as the sudden vision came, it was gone. He found himself back in the library, sounded by his unusually quiet friends.
Another vision, but this was one different from the others. The others all seemed very cryptic, very vague as if they were in symbols or code or something else.
But this had been clear. It had been in a familiar place and about a familiar person. Was his Second Sight growing stronger? And why did Hermione seem so upset, and at him? And what were they supposed to be doing together? How old was she there? How old was he? Did visions like that actually come true? Was there such thing as a false vision?
He had so many questions and so little answers. It was all becoming too much. Like so many times before, he wanted to run, he wanted to flee.
But he couldn't, he was in enough trouble as it was and who knew what Dumbledore (not to mention his mother) would say or do if he was caught running off again?
He looked around the library, no one else was stirring. Everyone else seemed comfortable, at ease, just like school pupils should be.
Why was he the only one that suffered? Why was he singled out for this so-called greatness that seemed to be turning more and more into a curse?
He dared not cry and start a commotion, but at that moment, there was nothing he wouldn't have given to be as far away from Hogwarts as possible.
7th
Class ended. Detention arrived. Hermione was absolutely fidgety about it. Detention was something for idiots and troublemakers. Two groups she had never associated herself with. And yet, she found herself on her way to Snape's office for the second time that day to face whatever torture he'd conjured up for them.
Well at least Ron's there, she heard herself say and wondered where on Earth that had come from. Since when was she happy to spend time with Ron? All her troubles had begun from the moment they'd met.
Still, she supposed, it was nice to have a sort-of friend to endure these things with. Especially since she found Ron's new bodyguards highly annoying.
Once they arrived in Snape's office, he informed them that they were to spend all day organizing the potions storeroom, first alphabetically, then by potency.
"Do not open any vials," he chided them in his languid, downright terrifying tone. "I'll know if you do." He turned to Barty and Taron. "You'll keep an eye on them, yes? Unlike those fools you had him in his charge before?"
"Of course, sir," they both said quickly. Ron noted that Professor Snape seemed to terrify his former pupils. Ron figured he probably had dabbled in some Dark Art spell that rendered him absolutely terrifying.
"Well, let's get this over with," Hermione began as she pulled out from her robes a book.
"What's that?" Ron asked, although he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.
"Potions Index A-Z 1990, it has all the most recent potions in alphabetical order. And it lists their potency."
"I wish there was a spell to organize all of this for us," Ron said rather absentmindedly.
The words were barely out of his mouth when the potions began arranging themselves.
In an instant, the storeroom shelves had put themselves in order. Hermione's mouth hung wide open as did Taron's and Barty's.
"I didn't mean to," Ron exclaimed, alarmed and slightly scared of himself.
"Bloody fucking hell," Taron nearly whistled, clearly impressed. Barty and Hermione busied themselves to check if the potions were actually in order.
They were. Faced with no other choice, they had to call Snape back and tell him that the job was done.
"It was supposed to be done without magic," snapped the snappish professor after he'd received the word from the young Aurors. He returned to the storeroom in a livid flurry of dark robes, enraged to see his storeroom organized so perfectly.
"Ron didn't mean to do it," Hermione dared to speak up. "He wasn't trying to use magic, Professor. It just...happened."
"Silence, Ms. Granger. I did not ask for your summary of the events."
"Professor," Ron said finding his voice at Snape's treatment of Hermione (Why it irritated him so much, he couldn't say, but it did) "It was an accident."
Snape was thoroughly unmoved by this fact. It seemed only to provoke his already provokable nature.
Ron, not for the first time, tried to get a read on him, but he sensed nothing.
He didn't need to be a Seventh Son to read Snape's irritation and contempt, that much was obvious.
"Well," the professor said in a tone that sat everyone's teeth on edge. "We will have to devise something that can't be ruined so accidentally."
His smile could not have been called warm and Ron could only wonder in horror about the horrors he was sure awaited him and Hermione.
The horror as it turned out was silence.
He and Hermione was forced to return to the Potions classroom and sit silently for three hours. Hermione found this quite difficult and Ron could feel her jumpy, tense energy no matter how hard he tried to block it out.
Snape did not deign to join them but he had told them in no uncertain terms that he would be he watching. Ron's bodyguards were to wait outside.
Ron didn't know if his bodyguards made him feel safe or if they just irritated him. He didn't know if Hogwarts made him feel safe. He couldn't remember if he'd been there a week or a year.
His state of mind being such, he was actually glad not to have to speak much. He wanted to make sense of his thoughts. He dared not go near his feelings. He didn't think having a sob fest what was a Seventh Son would do.
But thinking about everything that was happening did little to settle his mind or his emotions. It was all so confusing. Had this been what his parents were protecting him from his whole life?
Exasperated with his thoughts, he did his best to silence them. But in doing so, the thoughts of Hermione seem to become louder.
He tried to tune it out or at least he thought he did. He didn't know how to control his telepathy fully.
Detention. I can't believe I have detention. This can't be happening. What will Mum and Dad say? Hermione thoughts seemed to be repeating the same mantra over and over again. How disturbed she was over the fact that she'd gotten into trouble.
Trouble was practically a meal at the Weasley household, so Ron couldn't quite understand her reasoning, but sensing how out of sorts she was, decided against teasing her.
He wondered what Harry and Neville were doing. Probably listening to Dean talk about all the great Quidditch players he'd met.
He thought about his brothers. Bill and Charlie had already breezed through Hogwarts with popularity, honors and well-aware of what they wanted to do following Hogwarts. Percy, irritatingly driven to succeed at whatever he chose, was sure to succeed. And if the twins ever managed to take anything seriously, he was sure their personalities would carry them through.
But him? Everyone seemed to have the highest hopes, the highest expectations of him and he didn't even know what for. All his brothers had to worry about was Quidditch, O.W.L.s and avoiding detention.
Trouble seemed to follow him, like those girls that use to follow Bill around after his Quidditch matches.
Lost in the confusion of all that happened and his discomfort about what was coming, Ron passed away his detention before he'd even known it.
Snape dismissed them quickly and with little ceremony, apparently happy to be rid of them. Ron wondered why someone who hated children so much chose to be a teacher.
He and Hermione said very little to one another on their way back to the dorm. Neither felt like speaking and certainly not in front of Ron's bodyguards/babysitters.
Hermione scurried back up into the girls' dormitory, mumbling something about needing to write a letter, explaining and apologizing to her parents.
Ron thought it was a god idea, but he knew apologies wouldn't work so well on his mother.
He was tired, irritated, frightened and aggravated. In short, he wanted nothing but to go to bed.
But like everything lately, it wasn't breaking his way.
No sooner than he opened the door to his dorm, he heard the unmistakable voice of his mother.
And there stood Molly Weasley, alongside her eldest son in the middle of the Gryffindor boys' dorm, having a spirited conversation with Duncan.
This can't be good, Ron thought as he entered the room and they took note of his arrival.
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