False Fate
By MD1016
Part IV: The War
Chapter 19 – At the Place of Beginnings and Ends
As Remus Lupin had taken over Harry's tutoring, and Ron's students no longer needed him, Ron had Jack for most mornings. This suited him just fine. He played with the baby, fed him, changed him, and watched his fuzzy hair go from a pale pink to blue as he slept. All under the pretense, of course, of reading Dumbledore's journals. Ron had finished three in the first week after Madam Pomfrey pronounced him sound, all of which had taken place before Tom Riddle was ever born.
The current journal was no exception. Ron was about to put it aside when Dumbledore wrote about a young witch named Emma. Apparently the two of them had been friends for years before Dumbledore felt "the unmistakable pangs of love," and by that time the witch was already betrothed. He went on for pages and pages listing numerous attempts to woo his sweetheart, and in the end she married the other wizard. It was quite sad, actually. When he went to visit Harry, Ron was in a right funk.
"Did you ever wonder," Ron asked Harry as he settled Jack on his back on the chair next to him, "why Dumbledore never married?"
"Not really, no," Harry told him. He was still looking a little pale, and was propped up by several pillows.
"Have you ever heard of Emma Thistleblow?"
Harry shook his head. "Who is she?"
"No idea," Ron told him. "But Dumbledore quite fancied her."
"Really?" Ron understood Harry's surprise. It was difficult to imagine Dumbledore interested in girls. Not that he would be interested in boys, but Dumbledore had been so old when they knew him – ancient, really - and, well, love was for the young. Had Dumbledore ever been young?
"You look like death," Ron told his friend. Dark, sunken eyes, pale and pasty complexion, dull hair. Harry looked much like he did back at number 12 after he managed to destroy the cup.
"I feel fine," Harry protested. He'd said as much the last time, too. "I think one more night of coddling, and I'm out of here."
"You'd leave without Madam Pomfrey's say-so?" Ron asked, doubtful.
"I think I can take her in a duel, if it comes to that," Harry said lightly with a slight smile. "But honestly, it's been four weeks since we destroyed the Horcrux. It's past time to get on with the next."
Ron wondered at Harry's time table. "Are you getting anything?" He pointed at his forehead.
Harry touched his own in reflex, and rubbed his scar. "No," he said. "He's been unusually quiet. I'd expected he'd be furious after the scepter and all, but I've not felt a peep out of him since I came to."
"Maybe he's busy trying to find the remaining Horcruxes, and that's why you're not feeling him at the moment," Ron suggested. "What's left again?"
"The locket, for one." Harry looked thoughtful. "The snake, maybe. Or something else that belonged to Gryffindor. Ginny's been researching Godric Gryffindor, but she's not come up with anything so far. All of the books are adamant that Gryffindor's sword is the only remaining relic of his, and Dumbledore was certain that it had been safe and in his office the whole time."
If it wasn't the sword, and there wasn't anything else of Gryffindor's that Tom Riddle could've gotten his hands on…then where did that leave them? "Well then, the snake. Did we find out if Horcruxes could be made from living things?"
"I don't think we've discovered anything new at all about Horcruxes," Harry said with a sigh. "We're limited by Hogwarts' library." A new light went on in his eyes and he looked up at Ron. "Merlin's Beard, Ron… The next Horcrux will be the fifth. The diary, the ring, the cup and the rod. The next will be the fifth little death."
"From the prophecy?"
"And then it will be a fortnight," Harry said slowly, a look of trepidation in his eyes.
A shiver went down Ron's spine and left him with a cold dread. "And then the darkness will descend."
It was ominous. Ron still recalled Trelawney's creepy, dream-like voice when she said it the first time. And the darkness will descend.
"You think we really destroyed the Horcrux, then?" Ron asked. "We got number four?"
"Moody and Shacklebolt have done an intensive search for it, and have turned up nothing."
"Well," Ron said. "I reckon we should be happy not to have to deal with your scar hurting." The last time Harry had suffered so badly he'd ended up at St. Mungo's.
"I'm not complaining." Harry closed his eyes for a moment and Ron took that as his cue to leave. Regardless of how Harry was feeling, his stamina wasn't anywhere close to what it had once been. Best to let him sleep, Hermione had said on numerous occasions.
Ron collected Jack, and Harry opened his eyes. "Leaving?"
"Time to feed him," Ron said by way of excuse. "We'll be back later."
"Oi," Harry said, stopping him. "Do you know where Hermione is?"
"Dunno," Ron told him. "I expect with Madam Pomfrey."
At that moment Madam Pomfrey came in and produced another potion for Harry to swallow.
"Have you seen Hermione today?" Harry asked the healer once he'd swallowed the contents of her flask. "She didn't come to see me this morning."
"Haven't seen her in a few days," Madam Pomfrey said, distracted by the state of Harry's bedclothes. He's kicked his blankets and sheets down to the bottom of the bed, and she made and effort to straighten them.
"We're not worried, are we?" Ron asked, unsure why Harry was suddenly interested in Hermione's whereabouts. Ron had had breakfast with her that morning, and while she'd been preoccupied – he'd assumed with her potions – she had seemed all right.
"I'm not if you're not," Harry told him. His eyes were beginning to droop. "I'm sure she'll turn up to say hi when she's not busy. It's not like she'd leave the castle, or anything."
Madam Pomfrey chimed in at this point. "Oh, she might've done."
"What?" Ron was surprised by this, and a little startled. "Why?"
"Haven't you seen the Daily Prophet lately?" Madam Pomfrey tsked her disapproval. "It's full of scathing reports of Death Eaters and their misdeeds. And it said that Viktor Krum was a Death Eater, and he helped them slaughter his entire family."
"What?" Ron and Harry cried together.
"She was quite distraught over it. I knew she and he were friendly that year we had the Tri-wizard Tournament, but I didn't realize how much. Though, I suppose, I shouldn't have been surprised. He was a very handsome boy, and she was a lovely girl."
"She still is," Harry insisted through a yawn.
"Well, of course, dear. But those scars – never you mind. I'm speaking out of turn." Madam Pomfrey collected her bottle from Harry and breezed away.
"She'd never go to the Prophet, would she? In Diagon Alley? Alone?" Harry asked. "She knows how dangerous it is out there."
Ron's brows furrowed. He honestly didn't know. It wouldn't be sensible to go to the Prophet, but then, Hermione hadn't been her usual sensible self in quite a while. "I think I better go look for her," he told Harry.
"I'll come with you," Harry said and made to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He didn't even get them to the edge of the thin mattress.
"None of that," Ron said. "Let's not get too worried. I'm sure she's holed up somewhere fuming." He wasn't so sure, really, but Harry was in no shape to be scouring the castle for their wayward friend. "Pomfrey said she hadn't seen her in days, and I saw her this morning." He woke up to her, actually. It was very pleasant. They had fallen asleep talking about Ron's childhood at the Burrow. He'd been able to make her laugh. "I'll find her."
With Jack asleep on his shoulder Ron checked the library, just in case. Then, he looked in her small apartment, and then the Gryffindor's common room. He was headed down to the dungeons when he met McGonagall in passing. She was hurrying along the corridor, and gave Ron a distracted, "Hello," as she passed. Then she stopped and looked back at him.
"Mr. Weasley," she said cordially. "Is that a baby?"
Ron nodded. "He's called Jack. Remus Lupin's son."
"Oh, yes," she said, remembering. She peered down at the baby, and Ron noticed her stern expression softened a little. Jack had that effect on people. "Tell me…does he take after his father?" Her question was pointed.
"You mean the once a month thing? No," Ron assured her. "Tonks didn't have the disease, and so she didn't pass it on to little Jack, here. Actually, he takes after his mother," Ron said happily. "See his eyes?"
McGonagall peered down at Jack's black left eye and orange right one. "I see."
"Mostly it's color change right now, but he's young. I imagine he'll have her talent for physical transformation as well," Ron said happily. And he realized, then, that he was talking about Tonks without the usual grief and remorse swirling in his gut.
"And…you're caring for the child?" she asked, and fiddled with her bun a little. The thought must make her nervous, Ron thought. "Where's Mr. Lupin?"
"Teaching," Ron reminded her. "But really I don't mind. I'm Jack's godfather, after all."
This revelation knocked her back a step. Ron didn't think he'd ever seen her so flummoxed. "You? Really?"
"Yup," Ron told her, ignoring her reaction. "Uh, Professor, you haven't seen Hermione have you?"
She shook her head, her gaze still waffling between Ron and the baby over his shoulder.
"Well, I'm off to find her," he said, and when she didn't respond, he turned and left her there, speechless and in the corridor.
The dungeons were deserted, as one might expect when there were no classes to be held. Ron went straight to the Potions room, in retrospect he thought, the logical place he should've started looking with Hermione busy concocting a myriad of potions and brews for whatever might be coming.
Ron threw open the door and found Hermione and Terry Boot hunched over a book together, and reading with some difficulty.
"Two lambs' legs?" Terry asked, and scratched the side of his nose.
"Two lens logs?" Hermione said, questioning her own interpretation. "Why couldn't he write more clearly?"
"Who?" Ron asked.
Both Hermione and Terry looked up, but Terry clearly looked startled and took a large step away from Hermione. She, on the other hand, gave Ron a warm smile. "The Half-blood Prince," she said and then held up the battered book. "Harry told me where he'd hidden it. There were several potions that I thought could help our…situation." She caught herself before she gave too much away in front of Terry.
"So, Terry," Ron said cheerfully. "Potions after class? Slughorn will be impressed by your initiative."
"He's looking for something to help him win a girl. I convinced him that Fred and George's Love Potion wasn't an option. We've been trying to come up with something that might boost his confidence, or catch her eye or something."
"Really? Who's the lucky bird?" Ron asked, maybe a little pointedly, and Terry's guilty eyes flickered anxiously at Hermione and then away. Ron watched as he turned red.
"Erm…" he said. "Well…"
"It's a big secret," Hermione said with a twinkle in her eye. She loved the idea of a secret love, apparently. Ron couldn't believe how dense she was being. She was Hermione, after all. Surely if anyone could see the state Terry was in, it would be her.
"I think I'd like to speak to my girlfriend alone," Ron said, stressing "my" a little more than was absolutely necessary. Terry immediately headed out.
"Er, bye…Hermione," he said just before Ron shut the door behind him.
"He's got a crush on you," Ron told her.
Hermione looked up. "Who? Terry Boot? On me? Don't be silly."
"He's got a crush on you, and well he should," Ron said, echoing what Hermione had said to him over his students. "But don't encourage him."
She waved a dismissive hand in his general direction. "Ridiculous," she told him. "I'm all scarred and bookish. He's more likely to go for your Gretta Sweet." Ron marveled that the thought had simply never occurred to her. Did she really not understand how attractive she was? Had she really missed the longing in Terry's eyes?
"She's not my Gretta Sweet," Ron told her, but she didn't seem to hear him. Her nose was already buried in the book. She picked up a powder and dropped a pinch in the cauldron, and then stirred with a slow, steady hand, counting the strokes as she did so.
"I was worried about you," Ron said at last.
She looked up at him. "Because of Terry? You can't be serious. Oh, honestly, Ron."
"No, of course not. Because of Viktor. Madam Pomfrey told me what the Daily Prophet printed about him."
Her face darkened, and she stared into her potion. "It's just cruel what they do. They'll say anything to sell a paper, regardless of the truth." She looked back at him then, and promised, "But I'm all right."
"Are you still grieving?" They'd made love that once, and with it had come a wonderful physical intimacy between them. But the incident hadn't repeated itself, and Ron was starting to wonder if it ever would. He was hesitant to make the first move again, and even Lupin had agreed that he should wait for her signal. And all week long her signal had been to cuddle up next to him and drop off to sleep - which wasn't bad, just frustrating.
"I don't know," she said, fiddling with the wooden spoon. "I suppose. But I was angrier at what they printed about Viktor. He saved my life! I feel I owe him something. So, I sent the Daily Prophet a howler, followed by three feet of parchment detailing all of the inaccuracies in their story, and berating them on their lack of journalistic integrity."
"You didn't mention anything to me," Ron said quietly as he crossed the room to her. He shifted Jack to the other shoulder. Her potion was a yellowish green, and smelled like something had died in it.
"I know," she told him, even quieter.
"I want you to be able to talk to me about anything. Even Viktor. If you want." He played with the quill she had beside her parchment full of notes. He loved her handwriting. He ran a finger over a loopy "pallet" and noticed she was watching him. Her hand covered his, and then she pulled him closer. Her arms went around his waist.
"Ron Weasley," she said with a quiet smile. "When will you stop surprising me?"
"Not today," Ron quipped.
They snogged for a good ten minutes with Jackie perched on his shoulder before Hermione finally kicked him out so she could get some work done.
Ron caught up with her and Ginny at supper that evening, eating at the far end of the Gryffindor table with a pale Remus Lupin. He brightened when he saw Ron, and happily took Jack from him. Ron sat next to his sister, spooned a mound of potatoes on his plate, and helped himself to the chicken.
"Harry's come up with a solution to your…furry little problem," Ron said quietly to Lupin around a mouth full of meat. "Room of Requirement."
Lupin nodded. "He said as much. Will you have the dishonor of locking me in?" he asked Ron.
"Right after supper tomorrow night. But, Remus, are you free this evening? The four of us are meeting up in the infirmary at eleven to go over…matters…" It made Ron nervous to talk about things in the Great Hall where it was impossible to know who might over-hear them.
"I'll be there," Lupin said. "I'm relieved you four are willing to have some outside help. I don't think I need to tell you how…disquieted many of the Order were to hear of your adventure in the Shrieking Shack."
"You're taking about Moody, aren't you?" Ron asked. He could only imagine the rant Moody had once he found out.
"And Kingsley and your brother Bill, among others. Your mother was quite distraught, as well, you know?"
"We've explained to her," Ginny told Lupin. "But she worries."
"She's a mother," Lupin reminded her. "You will understand one day when you have children. And remember, she's already lost your father. It's very difficult to lose someone…as I know you're aware."
Ginny went quiet, and played with her spoon. "She sent an owl yesterday. She's so lonely it makes me want to cry."
"Haven you written your mother?" Hermione pointedly asked Ron.
"What? No! Of course not! You know I don't owl!"
Hermione glared at him. "You might spare a moment for your widowed mother, you know."
"Well, she hasn't spared a moment for her orphaned son, now, has she?"
Rolling her eyes, Hermione stated tersely, "She's your mother. You're not an orphan."
"Yeah, well," Ron said, but then didn't have anything to add after that. He stabbed at his potatoes with his fork. "Why don't you write her?"
"I have," Hermione said quite smugly. "I also got an owl from her yesterday."
"My mother's writing you and not me?" Ron asked, though he didn't know why he was so surprised. "What did she say?"
"That's between her and me," Hermione told him.
"She wrote about me, didn't she?"
"Perhaps."
Ron glowered, and scooped up a lump of potatoes. Hermione was so confident, so sure of her rightness, he just wanted to…
And he did it. He pulled back on his fork a little and sent the ball of mashed potatoes over the table at her. It hit her below her right eye. At first she was shocked, and couldn't respond. Ginny, however, burst into laughter, as did Remus and several other Gryffindors farther down the table.
Hermione took her napkin and carefully wiped away the food from her face and said very tartly, "Well, that was mature." And then she got hit with a second ball of potatoes. This time from Ginny, who'd stolen them from Ron's plate.
"Hey!" Ron said. "You can't do that to my girlfriend!" He scooped up more ammunition and slammed the side of Ginny's head with potatoes. This just made her laugh harder. She reloaded as well, and soon Ron was wearing raisin pudding in his hair. Then a lump of something green flew through the air, and hit the front of Hermione's shirt. Ron stood to see who'd thrown it, and Neville caught him straight between the eyes with a ball of ice cream. Strawberry, his favorite.
There was a moment in the Great Hall where no one moved. And then it passed and everyone seemed to be throwing whatever was left on their plates. There wasn't necessarily any aim involved, just food flying fast and free. Peas, cooked pears, ham, and pumpkin juice all became projectiles. Lupin, laughing, doubled over his son and hurried out of the room. Ron ran after him. They met just outside in the corridor, laughing and breathless. Ginny and Hermione soon joined them having run hunched together below the level of strikes. Hermione had certainly fared worse than the rest of them, but as more students rushed from the Hall it was clear that many, many others were completely covered.
"Oh, my goodness," McGonagall said as she turned the corner and came into view. Her eyes bugged when she caught sight of all of the students fleeing the Great Hall, and their newest adornments. She hurried to the enormous doors, threw them open with a flick of her wand, and got squarely hit in the face by a bowl of gelatin. Lime, from the color of it.
Harry was jealous, of course, when they told him about the food fight that night, but he smiled and laughed along with the rest of them as they relayed the story.
"And what happened after McGonagall got hit?" Harry asked. "Did it stop?"
"Hardly!" Ginny said, and broke out in another fit of giggles. "If anything it got worse!"
"The ghosts had to put an end to it," Hermione volunteered. "They were the only one's who couldn't get hit!"
They all laughed, and Ron couldn't believe how good it felt – or how long it had been. He tried to think back to a time when they were all laughing like this together, and couldn't come up with one. They needed more of this. They deserved it.
Lupin brought them all back to why they were there. "Ron said that you were able to figure out part of the new prophecy," Remus said to Harry.
"Yes," Harry confirmed, though he was hesitant to lose his smile. When at last he sobered enough he added: "The part about the five little deaths. I don't think it means what you think it means, Hermione. I think it's talking about the Horcruxes. And it's the fifth Horcrux that will be important."
"What was the line again?" Hermione asked Ginny.
"'The time will be selected by the fifth little death. A fortnight more before the darkness will descend.'"
"If destroying the Horcruxes is, indeed, killing off pieces of Voldemort's soul, then your interpretation is more sensible than mine," Hermione conceded. "So, you were thinking two weeks after you destroy the fifth Horcrux?"
"Two weeks and then what?" Lupin asked.
"The big battle," Harry told him.
A scream startled them all, and set Jack to crying on his father's lap. Lupin immediately pushed him against Ron and rushed to the door, his wand drawn. Hermione and Ginny followed close on his heels.
"Where's my wand?" Harry asked, scanning the table beside his bed.
"Dunno, mate. Here." He tossed his at Harry, but Harry handed it back.
"You've got Jack. You need to protect him."
"From what?" Ron asked. His heart was starting to thump quite wildly.
"I don't know," Harry told him, and pushed his legs over the side of the bed, "but something's not right."
Ron could feel it, too, now. There was a cold stillness in the air, a sense of foreboding.
"Stay here," Harry told him.
"I've got to stay with you – if something's wrong."
"You've got Jack," Harry said again. He wobbled on his feet and then, started toward the door.
"Was that Madam Pomfrey?" Ron called after him. "That scream?"
Harry didn't turn back when he said, "Yes, I'm afraid so."
The sounds of blasts came from just down the corridor. Ron gripped his wand in one hand, and held a wailing Jack against his chest with the other. A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to look out the tall, gothic windows. Gryffindor Tower was ablaze! Even through the stained glass it was impossible to mistake the flames that licked out the narrow Gryffindor windows. His heart stopped for a beat.
The infirmary door slammed open and Ron aimed, but luckily his voice got stuck in his dry throat. Hermione and Ginny, dragging Harry between them, rushed in. The deposited him on the nearest bed, and then ran out again. Ron went to his friend's side.
"You OK?"
"Weak," Harry bit out angrily. "Useless!"
"Gryffindor Tower's on fire," Ron told him.
Harry's head whipped to the windows. "Blast it all! Ron, you've got to give me some energy."
Everyone from Moody and Lupin to Madam Pomfrey had been adamant that Ron not give Harry any magic under any circumstances, as it could very well hamper his already slow recovery. And everyone needed Harry to full strength as fast as possible. But no one had foreseen this.
"It's the Death Eaters, isn't it?" Ron asked.
"Pomfrey's dead," Harry said. "Lupin got the wizard who killed her, but there are more. And now Gryffindor Tower's on fire. We've got to help, Ron. There are students in there – Dumbledore's papers!"
Harry was very compelling. And Ron looked down at the crying baby in his arms. "Here," he said, and handed Jack over. Then he pressed his wand into Harry's hand. "Protect them," he said to the wand, and a green net of magic flared over the wand and Harry's hand. Hadn't it once been gold? Ron wondered. He seemed to remember his wand in Hermione's hand, and a gold shimmer coming off the Transfer Spell. Not that it mattered.
Harry immediately protested, but Ron ignored him. He knew what he had to do. Harry was right. There were students in Gryffindor Tower, and they couldn't afford to lose Dumbledore's journals.
The corridors were empty, and as Ron hurried away from the infirmary he came across Madam Pomfrey's body…both pieces. He couldn't let it slow him, so he focused on getting to Gryffindor and began to run. As he turned another corner he ran into a skirmish between Hermione, Lupin and three Death Eaters in black robes and hoods. Ron ducked just in time and the Cutting Curse thrown at him missed, destroying the tapestry just behind him.
"Ron!" It was Hermione's surprised voice. "Why aren't you back in the Infirmary?"
"Gryffindor's on fire!"
"What?" she gasped, and turned to him. In the next second one of the Death Eaters took aim, and it was Ron's lucky leap that knocked her out of the way at the last second. They landed hard on the stone floor. Ron rolled, and pulled her with him, behind a large pedestal supporting an enormous vase.
"Where's you wand?" she whispered, somewhat breathlessly at him.
"Harry's got it."
"You're unarmed?"
"He's got Jack," Ron said, and then peeked out from their hiding place. Lupin downed one of the robed intruders, and was now working on the second. "I've got to get to Gryffindor. Cover me."
"But wandless? What are you going to do? Blow the fire out?"
"I'm going to get Dumbledore's things," he told her through clenched teeth. Honestly, couldn't they row later? "Now, on the count of three-"
"You're staying with me!" she insisted. "You're not going anywhere wandless!"
"Is that a new frock?" Ron asked her.
Stunned, she looked down at her top. "Well, uh…yes, as a matter of fact-"
"You look smashing." He kissed her firmly on the mouth and said, "THREE!"
He jumped up and bolted for the far end of the hall, and even though Hermione protested she covered his escape, just as he knew she would. He hated leaving her, but he figured as he was wandless, she was far better off with Remus. Besides, Hermione was more than capable of casting any number of spells and hexes, and most far better than Ron.
Three more corridors, and on to the Tower's stair, and once again Ron thought Rowena Ravenclaw a sadist for making them so difficult. He remembered at the last instant to miss the disappearing step, and sprinted up as fast as his legs would carry him, fighting throngs of yelling, screaming students on their way down. At least it looked like everyone was getting out.
"Ron!" It was Neville. "The fire's in the common room!"
"Did everyone get out?"
"No idea," Neville shouted to him. "I got swept away." And then he was pulled with the current of students right past Ron.
Ron continued to fight his way up. He needed to get to the guest quarters off the seventh floor corridor. He saw Seamus and Luna, neither of whom seemed to see him. Even the portrait subjects were rushing down the staircase from frame to frame. Ron was pushed back a couple of steps by some first years, their eyes wide with terror. That was when Ron saw them at the top of the stairs, looking down from the seventh floor landing. Death Eaters. Four of them. With all the screaming and crying around him he couldn't be sure, but they looked as if they were laughing. Until one saw him, that is, and then they were pointing directly at Ron, and pushing their way past students on their way down.
They knew him, and they were after him! Death Eaters, for casting out loud, were after him! Ron turned and bolted down the staircase as fast as he could manage. When he had to wait on one platform for the stairs to arrive, he saw three small students two platforms below fall as their staircase moved out from under them. Without thinking he snatched a wand off of a passing first year, aimed and yelled: "Arresto momentum!" The three children came to an almost instant hovering stop, and Ron lowered them to the next landing.
Then he glanced back over his shoulder. If he was caught there was no telling what kind of information they'd extract from him – or what they'd do to him if they found out about his Smisurato abilities. They were making headway; the stairs always seemed to arrive just as they needed them to. Ron ducked between students, determined to make himself a difficult target.
On the next landing he dove through a door, and his shoulder broke his fall. Clutching it he pushed himself up off the carpet and ran down the corridor as fast as he could manage. Third floor, he told himself. Charms, armor gallery, Trophy Room, Forbidden Corridor. Ron was very familiar with this floor. He hit the fork in the hall, and turned left back toward the hospital wing. He needed to find Lupin again. He was fairly sure one of those Death Eaters had been Lucius Malfoy.
In front of him three people rounded the corner, and stopped with their wands drawn. "Halt!" one called, and Ron recognized her as Claudia Waddinton, the new Headmistress. So, this was the Ministry's extended protection detail. Pathetic.
"I'm Ron Weasley," he told them, hands up above his head. He did stop, but glanced nervously behind him. "I've got four Death Eaters hot on my heels! And there they are!"
"Down!" the Headmistress commanded, and Ron dropped to the floor without a second thought.
Shots flew over his head from both sides. Two collided just above him and a shower of magic rained down. Ron covered his head, and then asked himself a panicked, "What the bloody hell am I doing?" He rolled to one side, aimed down past his feet, and Petrified the closest Death Eater square in the face. Ron barely managed to roll to his other side before another Death Eater blew a hole in the carpet and stone floor.
The three Ministry agents fought hard, and in the end they were able to Stun and Disarm all four of the Death Eaters. Once the last went down, Ron was up and running.
"Wait!" the Headmistress demanded.
"Gryffindor Tower is on fire!" Ron called back, turning to do so, but still running all the same. "I wasn't able to get close enough to see if everyone made it out!" That got the three of them running toward the tower. Ron went the other way.
He was almost to the infirmary corridor when the smell of charred flesh and cloth hit him like a Bludger. A moment later he practically tripped over the burned body. Ron slowed enough to notice a form against the wall, and then to realize it was Ginny. He slid to his knees beside her. Her legs were drawn up against her chest, her wand clutched between both hands and her stomach. Her eyes stared widely at the body in the middle of the hall.
"Ginny-" he began.
"I killed him," she whispered. He almost didn't catch her words.
"Ginny, look at me." He had to tug her chin to get her gaze to meet his. The hall was dark, and the blue light shining in from the windows glinted in her dark eyes. "It was you or him. You did what you had to do."
"But I killed him!" she insisted. Her voice sounded oddly hollow. "He's Goyle's father, and I killed him. He started to say the Killing Curse, and I didn't have time to think. Incendio was the first thing that came into my head, and I burned him up."
"No," Ron told her firmly. "Ginny look at me!" Her empty gaze found him again. "Take this wand," he ordered and pulled hers out of her hand, replaced it with the first year's he'd commandeered. "This is your wand now. If anyone asks, this is your wand-"
"This…this isn't your wand," she said.
"No," he admitted.
"They'll know it's not mine. They'll know it's registered to someone else."
"It'll never go that far," he assured her. Goyle had been a Death Eater, after all. Would anyone check that hard for his killer? "They'll use Prior Incantato to find out what the last spell the wand cast. This is your wand now."
She looked at it, but he wasn't sure she truly understood what he was saying. And her shock was understandable. For a time Ron had thought he'd killed Draco Malfoy, and he easily empathized with the anguish his little sister was experiencing. He also knew there was nothing he could do to help. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder he helped her up and led her back to the Infirmary, turning her head so as to not see Madam Pomfrey's remains.
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her, and Ron sat her down beside him on the bed. Ron briefed Harry on what had happened, and then when Harry said he'd not seen the others, Ron touched Jack's soft, round head, and went back out.
He needed to find Lupin and Hermione. He needed to get rid of Ginny's wand.
The sounds of fighting led Ron down to the inner courtyard between the four house towers. From there, Ron could see the roaring fire in Gryffindor Tower overhead; the entire courtyard was lit by it. There were five Death Eaters in their black robes that were retreating back through the West Tower, and after that most certainly they'd escape across the lawns and through the main gates back to Hogsmeade. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were there blasting hex after hex at the Death Eaters, as well as Lupin, Hermione and Neville. The six of them had the Death Eaters out numbered, but not necessarily out-powered. Ron raised Ginny's wand and sent Protego at one of the Death Eaters, but not fast enough. The Death Eater's hex didn't rebound back on himself, but instead hit McGonagall in the stomach. She went down like a rag doll. Hermione was on it, though, and dashed out a fast: "Rennervate!" at her. McGonagall came to instantly, but the Death Eater had already taken aim at Hermione.
Ron shouted, "Locomotor mortis!" and thrust his wand at the man before he even knew what he was doing. The Death Eater fell forward on his face, which gave Hermione enough time to Stun him.
By this time Lupin and Flitwick had another Death Eater disarmed, and the remaining three had fled. Cothwaith, the Ministry's DADA professor, and Waddington emerged from behind Ron, and he pointed the way the Death Eaters had fled, before heading over to Hermione. When she saw him, she ran to him, and they slammed into each other in a desperate embrace.
"You're all right?" she asked.
He nodded. "You?"
She was good, he realized, as was Lupin, who was helping McGonagall up from the ground. "I'm far too old to be doing this," she sputtered. Lupin agreed that he was, as well.
"Ginny and Harry?" Hermione asked, turning back to Ron.
"They're good. But Hermione…" He took her by the arm and pulled her away from the others. "Ginny killed a Death Eater. She burned him alive."
"No!" Hermione's hands flew to her mouth and nose. "Is she all right?"
"No. I mean yes, physically. But we have to get rid of her wand. It's not an Unforgivable, so they won't know who cast it, just that an under-aged wizard inside Hogwarts Castle did it. And that could be anyone."
Hermione stared down at Ginny's wand. He could see her inner turmoil play out on her face; weighing what she knew had to be done against breaking the law. "We have to protect Ginny," she said, as he knew she would. But could she bring herself to help him destroy evidence? Would she?
"I shouldn't have told you," Ron said quickly and shoved the wand into his back pocket. "I never should've involved-"
"Ron, no. You need my help."
"I've made you guilty by association," he said, and backed up a couple of steps. "I'm sorry." He was supposed to protect her, not involve her in crimes.
"We'll have to break it and then burn it," Hermione told him. "It has to be snapped first."
"I'll do it," Ron told her.
"I'll help."
He shook his head. "Go back to the infirmary. Help Ginny, she's in shock. I left Harry there with both her and Jack to protect, and he's still not got the energy to stand on his own."
"But-" Hermione protested.
"I'll do this and be right up."
"What's going on?" Lupin asked, hurrying over to them. "Everything all right? Hermione?"
"Everything's fine," she told him, with a smile that screamed she was lying.
"I'll be right up," Ron repeated, and then turned to leave. He could do it in the greenhouses, and then bury the ashes in the compost bins.
"You'll need my wand," Hermione called after him, and then rushed to him and pressed it into his hand. "You gave yours to Ginny, didn't you?"
To Harry, he thought, but it hardly mattered. "You need it," he told her.
"I'll stay close to Lupin," she promised. "The Death Eaters are gone, and it's safe enough now..."
A large rumble, filled the air and over-powered her voice, and Ron looked up to see the top of Gryffindor Tower fall in on itself. A huge shower of fire rained down, and then the entire tower began to fail.
"RUN!" Lupin yelled. Flitwick and McGonagall were already racing in the other direction.
Ron grabbed Hermione and they sprinted back through the West Tower, and into the Roman Courtyard, past the Transfigurations classroom and through the Dark Tower. He pulled Hermione with him into the garden, and then into the first greenhouse they came to. Ron threw Ginny's wand on the dirt floor and held out his hand. "Give me your wand," he told her.
"I'll do it," she said, staring down at Ginny's wand. But he didn't want her to. If someone found out about this, he wanted to be able to take the blame.
Before he had a chance to voice this, Lupin caught up with them. He burst into the greenhouse and collapsed forward, hands on his thighs, chest heaving with the difficulty of catching his breath. "What are…you…doing…in here?"
"Remus," Ron said. "You need to leave."
He looked up at Ron, then, and into his eyes. Lupin's face went stern. "What are…you doing?" he repeated.
Again, Ron told him, "You need to leave."
Lupin shook his head. He looked down at Ginny's wand and then back up at Ron. "What's…happened?"
Ron never got a change to refuse to answer. A roar so loud Ron thought his head might explode blew over them, and he managed to throw himself over Hermione and knock her to the ground before the glass roof of the greenhouse blew in on top of them. Stones and ash covered them like a hot blanket. He buried his face in her hair. They were pelted with any number of objects, and the debris seemed to fall for the longest time.
Even before it stopped Lupin was shouting: "Ron! Are you there?" He'd been thrown across the rows of plants.
Ron felt Hermione breathing below him. She was alive, at least. "We're here!" Ron yelled back. He could barely hear his own voice.
When at last the tower finished falling, Ron pushed himself up, and then helped Hermione to her feet. She yelped when he touched her arm. Undoubtedly it was broken. Ginny's wand had snapped beneath their weight, but luckily it hadn't impaled Hermione's soft stomach. Had it…Ron didn't want to think about that. He couldn't deal with thoughts of mortality now.
Hermione saw what he was staring at, and she gingerly pulled her own wand out. He could tell she hurt – more than just her arm – by the way she moved. Ron was hurting, too. Everything ached, and his muscles protested every move he made. He didn't flinch when she set the wand on fire. In the hazy, ash-filled air it was nothing more than a small orange glow. The unicorn hair at its center shriveled and then whined as it died. Hermione made a similar noise. She looked up at Ron, her face, hair, and everything completely covered with grey-black ash. It was hard to see any expression under all that dust, but her eyes – her eyes were full of such anguish. She shied away from his touch.
"Lupin," she said, and turned. She was right. The emotions could wait until later.
They found Lupin buried under a few large stones and a table of ginger plants. Hermione used her wand to dig him out, and then turned it on herself and knitted the bones in her arm. They'd been lucky, Ron knew, and he helped Remus up from the ground.
The Gryffindor Tower now blocked most of the central courtyard, and the three of them had to take the long way around to make it back to the infirmary. Hermione had a nasty cut on her shoulder, but she waved off his concern.
"We need to get to Harry and Ginny, and then we need to get the infirmary ready for all of the wounded. There were most certainly students and teacher hurt when the tower came down, and with Madam Pomfrey gone someone's going to need to help them."
"Good thinking," Lupin said as they rushed along another deserted corridor. "I'll work with the Headmistress to figure out the fastest way to get the critical cases directly to St. Mungo's."
"We also need to get the students home," Hermione said briskly. "It's obvious Hogwarts isn't safe any-"
"Jack!" Lupin said and looked to Ron. Had he just remembered his son? Or just realized that Ron didn't have him?
"He's safe," Ron assured him.
"I gave him to you to protect," Lupin said darkly and they hurriedly walked.
"And I gave him to Harry. Harry is a better protector against Death Eaters, you and I both know that."
"Harry can't even lift his wand!"
"He's safe," Ron said again, this time sharper. Did Lupin think he'd just hand Jack over to anyone? Or leave him in danger? "I did what I had to do. Just as you did. And Jack's safe."
Remus clenched his teeth, but didn't retort. Ron could tell that the argument wasn't over. They were all hurting and reeling from the events of that night, and it had to be close to three in the morning. They would most certainly continue it once they had a chance to breathe a little. Ron was still shaking. For now he couldn't deal with anything more than making it back to Harry and reassuring himself that Jack was, in fact, safe.
Half of the stained-glass windows on one side of the infirmary had been blown in, and when Ron, Lupin and Hermione made it back there they found Harry and Ginny huddled together on the opposite side of the room with an overturned bed in front of them like a barricade. Harry looked up, a bundled baby against his chest, and Ginny whirled to them, her wand drawn and fury in her eyes. All three of them stopped short when she didn't lower her wand. Harry touched the back of her leg. "We're all right," he told her. We're safe now." She relaxed only a little. And slowly.
When Ginny did lowered her arm, Hermione rushed past her to Harry.
"Are you good?" they asked each other.
Lupin took his son, and hurried to the next bed to inspect him for any possible injuries. Jack cooed, softly, so Ron knew he was all right. Tears prickled his eyes. He was simply relieved that they'd all made it out relatively unscathed. It had been a close thing. It could've ended much differently.
The rest of the night and the following day Hermione, Lupin and McGonagall tended to the walking wounded. Waddington closed the school, and arranged for the Hogwarts Express to take the students back. Two students had died. And Madam Pomfrey. And three Death Eaters. The remainder of the captured Death Eaters were taken to the Ministry. Azkaban was no longer invulnerable. Ron told Kinglsey about Lucius Malfoy. Shacklebolt didn't look surprised.
Regardless of the transportation arrangements made, parents started arriving as soon as the sun came up. Most of the students were terrified and ready to leave immediately - especially the Gryffindors, who had nothing left to pack.
Hermione's apartment was lost, too, and with it everything that once belonged to Dumbledore.
The evening after Gryffindor Tower collapsed, Ron and Hermione sat on a cushion near the fireplace in the Headmistress' office, as did Lupin with Jack, and Harry and Ginny. Hagrid had a large stool not too far away and spoke quietly with Firenze and Mistress Sprout. McGonagall, with her hair and clothes once again pristine, had a low arm chair. Beside her in their own chairs were Bill Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Moody, who seemed royally upset that he'd missed the whole thing. Of course, Waddington and the other two ministry workers were there as well; Cothwaith and Kriskin, respectively. It was a full room.
"The charms and protections failed," Waddington began.
"They were using a new magic!" Cothwaith complained. "Nothing I've ever seen before! One of them didn't even use a wand! And Die? What kind of magic is that?"
"The kind that killed my father," Ron told him.
They all looked at him, though Ron doubted many of them actually saw him. They were reliving that horrible moment at Hermione's trial when Draco had murdered his father without a wand, and Muffled.
"Die, Obey, Hurt – they're not Unforgivables," McGonagall said. "I'm sure that is why those spells were allowed to work on Hogwarts' grounds. Our protections didn't necessarily fail - they've just found a way around them."
"But these are not powerful wizards," Shacklebolt said with a shake of his bald head. "Goyle? Yaxley? My five year-old nephew could take them down."
Ron saw Ginny go green, and she turned to look into the fire. No one knew what she'd done, beyond Hermione and him. Perhaps Remus had an idea.
"How are they getting their power? Where is this new magic coming from?"
"Voldemort, of course," Harry said. Most everyone in the room flinched from the name. "The real question is, how do we defend ourselves from it? What's the counter-curse to Obey or Hurt or Die? At least with The Killing Curse there was some warning. It's a mouthful to say. And even then, it didn't take any time at all for Pettigrew to kill Cedric Diggory."
"Why did they come here?" Ginny asked. "What did they want?"
"Us," Ron said. He remembered how the Death Eaters had acted once they saw him. "Or maybe Harry," he corrected. "There were four Death Eaters at Gryffindor Tower. If they were looking for Harry…"
"But I wasn't in Gryffindor Tower."
Ron shrugged. "Maybe they didn't know that."
"They wanted to scare us," Hermione said. "This was their show of power. In one night they destroyed half of the castle, closed down the school, and hit Harry where he was hiding."
"I was never hiding!" Harry insisted.
"They came," Hermione continued, "because we've gotten too close to Voldemort, and they need to set us back."
"Set us back?" Ron asked. "But that would only make sense if they were stalling for more time. Why would they do that? Unless…" It was possible, he thought. Wasn't it? "Voldemort's looking for the locket, too. He's trying to get it back."
"Locket?" Waddington demanded. She sat forward in her chair, as did the other Ministry officials. "What locket?"
Lupin sat forward as well. "If that's the case, then they don't know where it is, either."
"Which locket?" Waddington asked again, her strong, sharp voice going a little shrill.
"Back to Headquarters?" Lupin asked.
"I don't think so," Harry said. "It's got to be here."
"It does?" Ron asked. "But what about the Death Eaters? They know we're here now."
Harry studied him for a moment. "You're right. Everyone should go back to Headquarters. But I can't. I have to be here."
"Because of the prophecy," Hermione said slowly. Harry nodded. "Because this is the only place that both you and Voldemort have called home. Because Hogwarts is the place of beginnings and ends."
"It started here when Tom Riddle was a student," Harry explained. "It will end here before I was meant to graduate."
"Who's Tom Riddle," Cothwaith asked. "What is he on about?"
"You're sure about that?" Hermione asked. "It says a fortnight from the fifth little death, not from when you were supposed to graduate. That's only two months away-"
"Well, then," Harry said, and gave her a resigned smile. "We'd best hurry."
As they made their way back to Ravenclaw Tower, Ron pulled Hermione to the side and inhaled deeply. He'd missed her smell. He couldn't hold back any longer, Lupin's advice be damned. "I want to be alone with you," he whispered. She looked up at him with exhausted eyes, and nodded.
They ducked to the library where Madam Pince still slid books back on to the shelves. Ron told her the school was closed, but she shushed him and went back to her sorting.
"This way," Hermione said, and led him by the hand to the fourth floor, and the Prefect's Bathroom. Just inside the door she leaned into him and kissed him deeply. It was just what he needed. He touched her face as his tongue dove deep into her mouth. She was alive, and he was alive, and as weary and exhausted as he was he wanted to touch her all over. He skimmed his fingers over her ribs.
When she pulled away, she pressed a hand to his chest. "Stay," she said with a mischievous grin. He watched the swing of her hips as she sauntered over to the bath valves and turned on the water. He'd never known her to saunter before.
Pink and blue soap also poured out of the faucets, and bubbles began to form like a thick froth on the top of the water. She turned to him, then, in front of the enormous bath, and began to unbutton her blouse.
Ron's heart skipped a beat. Her top dropped to the floor, and his mouth went dry. She unbuttoned her jeans, slid them down her legs. In nothing but her knickers and bra she stood before him and extended her hand to him. Her wand shot into it. With a look of frustration she tossed the wand aside and motioned for him to join her. He took her hand in his, kissed her again, and let her pull his t-shirt up and over his head. She had to strain on tip-toes and press her body tightly against his to lift his shirt up over his head. He slipped his arms out of the shirt, and then around her body. Then he kissed her again.
He felt a tugging at his jeans, and realized she had them undone and was trying to push them down his legs. He loved that she took the initiative. It made him want her even more. He slipped his hand down her side and under her knickers, and groped her firm bum tightly, and pulled her lower body against him. He loved the feel of her; full in his palms. Warm. Smooth and rough. He drew her tighter and pressed himself into her soft belly. Her hands abandoned his clothes, then, and skimmed across his chest raising goose bumps in their wake. Her mouth wandered across his jaw, and then his neck. He focused on her bum. She moaned, and his body responded even more. He stifled a groan against her shoulder.
"Oh, my!" came a shriek from the toilets. Moaning Myrtle.
"Get out," Ron snapped before going back to Hermione's neck. Her skin actually tasted faintly sweet.
"Out!" Hermione concurred.
Ron reached up and squeezed one of her breasts, and then slipped his fingers inside the fabric cup, but was distracted by Hermione's roaming hands. They wiggled down the front of his drawers and found him straining. He gasped, bucked against her hand. The overpowering sensation ignited a storm in his belly. He heard himself whimper, inside it felt like a roar.
He pushed his own clothes off while she held him in one hand, and then he pulled her bra up without bothering with the tiny clasp. It got stuck under her arms, her breasts bobbed freely, and she had to let go of him to help him pull the whole bra contraption up and over her shoulders. It was better that she let go, he realized. He could think a little more clearly. Not much, but a little.
He watched as she pushed her knickers down off her hips. There was no modesty between them any longer. Then she pulled him by the hand into the warm, sudsy water. They sank down together into the bath's depths. She was on him in a second; hot, wet, slippery, and laughing. Her arms around his neck, her thighs around his hips, and it was all he could do to kiss her and brace himself against the central island in the tub. Her hips worked, pressed against him, and he throbbed between their two bodies. He reached down and tried to find the right position against her. She had to help. And when he was pressing at her core, he took a deep breath and pushed up inside her while she purposefully sank down around him.
There was no leverage, though, and he tried to push her up against the pipes. When she violently complained he went back to the steps and sat with her on top of him. It was a position he knew she liked. With her weight in his lap, he found the resistance he needed to thrust up into her. His hands spanned her hips, and he helped her as she rocked above him.
"Find a rhythm," she whispered hotly in his ear.
Steam from the water left him flush and sweating…or maybe that was her. His heart hammered, his body throbbed, his hips searched desperately for that give and take. She leaned down and kissed his mouth, his jaw. Her hands left his shoulder to tightly grip his thighs. She pulled as she pushed down on to him, and he took her cue. He thrust up as she pressed down, and bucked as she did. It was a cadence that he should've known all along. Her nails skimmed over him, beneath the water, and raised goose bumps in their wake. He fondled clumsily at her bobbing breasts, her belly, her bum; his hands having lost their subtlety.
"Ron," she whispered, or at least he thought she did. He'd closed his eyes to focus on what his body was feeling and it seemed to have affected his hearing. When she repeated his name he looked up at her, flushed and pink. Beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful.
She took his hand and led his thumb down between their bodies, to that special place she'd shown him before. When he pressed, she gripped his shoulders, and her face twisted in pain. No, no pain. Pleasure. He worked her as he moved inside her, and she did her very best to speed his hips along. He didn't want to rush, though. Every move of her body was absolute ecstasy; every gasp from her throat was perfection.
"To the left," she whispered, and then, "No, my left." And as he complied she rested her forehead against his neck. Her body tensed. He could feel her straining. He continued to move inside her, continued his manual onslaught, and the attempt to find the connection between the two. Honestly, he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to. Her tight heat grew even tighter, and Ron grunted as his hips had to work harder. The added pressure was added pleasure, and still he wanted even more. The cold within his well was made even colder by the heat of her body and the bath that surrounded them, and he pulled that cold up. He reached into her with his magic, and as he plunged within her she cried out, went stiff in his arms.
With her magic swirling with his, Ron was no longer able to resist the inevitable. He allowed his pressure to build, and pushed rougher inside her to help it along. He crested with a grunt and a series of thrusts, and her lips on his, and her magic inside him. He floated in a haze of complete physical satisfaction, but his brain didn't stop completely. How had her magic found its way into his well? It had always worked the other way before. Would the exchange hurt her the way it had with Harry so very long ago?
She collapsed against him, but she was far from unconscious. Her hands crept down his sides and tickled lightly at the base of his spine. He was sure she would've gone lower had he not been sitting on it. He kissed her temple. Kissed the top of her head, and brought a wet hand up to smooth over her hair. She sighed happily. It was a wonderful sound. Her body was still responding, still clutching, and her magic was still swirling lightly on the surface of his well, while his was on hers. His body was retreating, yes, but he continued to tease her energy with his – it felt too good to stop.
"Why isn't this hurting you?" he whispered to her. "When you gave energy to Harry it hurt you."
"You're not Harry," she told him simply.
"And Harry took, didn't he? He always does with me. But our energies are just…playing. That's the difference, do you think?"
"I think so. It certainly feels different with you. Everything feels different with you." He could feel her smile against his shoulder. She kissed his neck.
"Because my magic's not pure? Can you feel that?" he asked.
"I feel everything," she said. "And I love you, too."
End of chapter 19