Healing Chapter 8: The Flawed Plan, a harry potter fanfic

"What the hell was that about?" Ron muttered, once Harry had walked out of the hall for a wash as he had said. He had just told them all in an oddly calm voice that he wished to talk to Griphook and Ollivander. Ron found this behavior of his somewhat disturbing. Crazily hoping that any of them may have a sudden epiphany moment and the kindliness to share it with him, he looked around at the others but all he got as a response was collective shrugging.

"Ron, will you please explain that to me?" Bill asked with unveiled agitation, now leaning forward on his knees and staring directly at his brother. "Is that part of your secret mission as well? Neither Griphook nor Ollivander are in any state to... to give you information or whatever it is you want from them."

Through all his confusion, anger rose inside Ron. He could not believe that Bill had the nerve to try and question him about their mission again. But he would not have any of that.

"I've already told you that I can't speak about it and that's my final word on the matter," he said firmly.

"Ron, I understand that you're not allowed to talk about it, but this is madness. You're-"

"Bill," Fleur interrupted her husband sharply standing up, and Ron exhaled in relief. "If 'Arry wants to see Grip'ook and Ollivander, we should prepare ze two of them..."

"Alright, I'm coming with you, love," Bill said in a defeated tone and threw a last suspicious glance at Ron before he followed Fleur upstairs.

"Whoa, so is it true?" Dean asked in awe once Bill and Fleur were out of earshot. "You really are on a mission for Dumbledore? You've got a plan to destroy You-Know-Who?"

"See, I can't talk about this with my own brother, so I certainly can't tell you," Ron snapped, his voice more aggressive than he had intended. As to be expected, Dean was in a bit of a huff.

"Oh, right. But I thought that maybe we could help you. Just because Harry's the Chosen One doesn't mean that..." He paused for a moment, apparently at a loss for words. "Just saying," he added with a shrug and then leant forward. Ron followed him with his eyes, half expecting him to draw a wand, but then he saw that he was reaching over to a plate of sandwiches that somebody had placed onto the coffee table during his absence. Dean grabbed a sandwich and started to munch on it more forcefully than was necessary.

Though not really wanting any, Ron mechanically helped himself to a sandwich, too. He had already lifted it to his mouth when he remembered.

"Oh, right."

"Want some?" he quietly asked Hermione and held the sandwich in front of her.

"Thanks," she whispered and tore off a chunk of it.

"Well, you can have the whole thing, you know," Ron chuckled but Hermione shook her head.

"Thanks," she repeated. "But I don't think I can..."

Ron understood what she meant and he felt it himself as he took a bite. The sandwich was delicious but he thought that he could have been just as well chewing on a piece of cardboard. At least it allayed his hunger.

They spent the next couple of minutes in silence, neither of them saying a word as they all were absorbed in their own thoughts. Ron was staring into the vividly crackling fire without really seeing. The unreal feeling he had about being at Shell Cottage was slowly abating and the realization sunk in that they all were indeed safe here in the small warm cozy room, but Harry's demeanor was still bothering him. What in the name of Merlin was he up to? Did he know something that he, Ron, did not? He was acting so strange, so secretively. In fact, that's what he had been like ever since Xenophilius Lovegood had told them about the Deathly Hallows. Fascinating as they were, Harry's strange obsession with them had worried Ron. It seemed as if it had changed something in him, as though he was possessed by some obscure force. He hoped that Harry still knew what he was doing, that he was still following Dumbledore's mission of finding and destroying the Horcruxes instead of attempting some weird solo run after the Hallows, but the fact that he appeared to wish to talk to Griphook and Ollivander on his own, without even discussing his plan with Hermione and him first, put a palpable damper on him. Ron was not sure if he still had the strength to put up with something like that. The past couple of hours seemed to have aged him at least a hundred years. He glanced down at Hermione who looked tense and was biting her lip as if in deep concentration. He wished that he could discuss his concerns with her but that was out of the question with Luna and Dean sitting barely three feet away from them.

But as if on cue, he could hear voices from the hall. They were speaking quickly and agitatedly, so he could not make out what exactly they were saying, but one thing, he was sure about...

"Is that Harry?" Hermione asked, lifting her head.

Ron nodded and quietly slid off the couch, casting a stay-where-you-are-this-is-none-of-your-business glare at Luna and Dean. He tiptoed around the love seat and towards the door, wanting to know what was going on.

From the corner of his eye, he saw that Hermione had risen to her feet as well.

"Are you okay? Can you walk?" he asked with concern and extended his hand. She took it and let him guide her to the doorway where they remained standing and listened.

What Ron heard only confirmed his fears. Harry was still determined to follow his plan all by himself, as though he and Hermione did not even exist anymore. He was already on his way up the stairs to Griphook's room-

"I need you two, as well!" [1] Harry abruptly called, stopping dead in his tracks and turning his head towards the living room door.

Ron gave a start and so did Hermione as both had not expected to be seen from where Harry was. Nevertheless, Ron could not help feeling immensely relieved at being addressed so directly by him. The mere fact that he wanted them with him and that he was apparently going to let them in on his plan mildened his concern. Together with Hermione, he stepped into the hall, his arm around her shoulders.

Two hours and a conversation with Griphook and Ollivander, respectively, later found the trio in the garden in front of the cottage. Ron felt positively sick to his stomach as he remembered these talks and their implications.

Not only had it become evident that Harry was suspecting another Horcrux down in Bellatrix' Gringotts vault - which meant that the three of them would have to break into the wizarding bank, a feat that only one person had ever survived to tell about, and that was none other than Voldemort himself -, they had also learned that Voldemort had extorted from Ollivander details about the Elder Wand, which, to Hermione's appall, truly existed and had once been in the possession of Grindelwald. Which, as Harry had told them minutes ago, meant that Dumbledore must have been the last master of the Wand as he was the one who had defeated Grindelwald.

Ron was overcome by a feeling of cold dread as he had put the pieces together. Voldemort knew about Grindelwald's possession of the Elder Wand and the circumstances of Grindelwald's downfall were common knowledge, so Voldemort had everything he needed to lay his hands on a weapon that was unbeatable! Ron could have kicked himself for letting Harry waste time and speak with Griphook first. He, Ron, had not understood - as usual, he had been too dumb. Too dumb to see the big picture. They had to stop Voldemort from obtaining Elder Wand! The thought of Voldemort with an unbeatable wand was nothing short of nauseating. They were all as good as doomed now.

But in his unwavering - or perhaps simply blind - faith in Dumbledore, Harry practically refused to listen as he brought up this train of thought.

"I'm not supposed to... I'm supposed to get the Horcruxes..." [2] he growled through gritted teeth, sunken to his knees, and Ron saw it as nothing but a display of sheer stubbornness.

Harry now doubled over, his forehead on his knees, his fingers clawing his hair. Ron instantly realized that he had now fully delved into Voldemort's mind. He had seen it often enough.

His body shaking and twitching, Harry was lowly muttering to himself and Ron and Hermione had to bend over him to understand his words.

"...at Hogwarts... Snape..."

"Snape," Ron said sharply, clenching his fists with suppressed fury. Hermione gently placed a hand on his forearm and, slightly becalmed, he continued to listen.

"...tomb... opens... tomb..."

Ron's stomach turned over. He felt like throwing up again, right there and then.

"...taking... he's taking the wand..."

Ron swallowed a mouthful of sick. He threw a sideways glance at Hermione. It was undeniable that the conversations with Griphook and Ollivander had clearly given her a flush of energy, but she had remained uncharacteristically quiet during his argument with Harry and now her face was paler than ever. She was tense, her lower lip was trembling.

With a shuddering gasp, Harry pulled his mind out of Voldemort's, his hands and knees in the dewy grass as he breathed heavily, his eyes wide open and his forehead running with sweat.

"You-Know-Who... has the Elder Wand..." he panted.

"We know, mate," Ron said crossly as both he and Hermione grabbed him by the arms and helped him up.

"So that's it, isn't it?" he said, still furious, once Harry had risen to full height. "We've lost the Elder Wand. You-Know-Who has the un-beat-able wand now, Harry! Happy now? Is this what Dumbledore wanted, giving him a wand that can't be defeated? How in the name of Merlin are we supposed to fight that? Dumbledore hasn't given you a plan for that, now, too, has he?"

"I don't know," Harry mumbled, rubbing his scar.

"How could Dumbledore have wanted that? Can you tell me that?"

"I don't know," Harry repeated and lifted his head. He looked confused and appalled at what he had done - or rather not done. "I don't know what this leads to. But Dumbledore would've told me about the Hallows if he'd thought that's the way to defeat him, right? He knew about the Hallows, knew about their power! He could've told me but all he ever mentioned were the Horcruxes!"

"But-"

"I can't see right now what we're supposed to do about that,' Harry said, erratically running his hands through his hair and starting to pace. 'But something tells me that this was the right decision. I just - feel it... This is how it's supposed to be..."

"Then he's gotten bloody mad," Ron said defiantly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "He couldn't possibly want a practically invincible villain to get an invincible wand and expect three bloody teenagers to do him in, Chosen One or not."

But Harry completely ignored him, silently continuing his pace for a few more minutes in which, panic and impatience rising inside him, Ron came to realize the irony of their situation. Before tonight, Harry's mind had been so preoccupied with the Hallows that he would barely listen to him and Hermione anymore when they wanted him to focus on the Horcruxes, and now it was the other way round. It was a grotesque sort of role reversal. Eventually, Harry came to a halt, looking up at Ron and Hermione and taking a deep breath.

"See, I don't know what this all means," he said. "It feels so weird to me, too, not intervening when we have the chance. But somehow... I just feel that this is how it should be... how it's meant to be..."

Ron opened his mouth for a retort but Harry continued to speak before he could make a sound.

"I can't possibly sleep now," he said, looking up into the rosy sky. "I... I don't know, I... I think I need to be alone now... I need to think."

He stepped towards Hermione and placed his hands onto her shoulders.

"You should have some rest now, Hermione," he said warmly. "You've been through a lot tonight."

Hermione nodded slowly and Harry nodded back.

He let go off Hermione and turned around, giving Ron a curt nod as well. Ron opened his mouth to say something but he did not know what and closed it again. Harry walked around the cottage, his forehead in his palms.

Ron followed him with his eyes, gulping as he disappeared behind the corner. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Even with the prospect of getting another Horcrux to destroy, their situation was now more hopeless than ever.

"Well, let's go inside then," he said resignedly, his gaze still fixed at the corner.

He drew a deep breath and, his hands still buried in his pockets, slowly shuffled towards the cottage, up the stairs and into the hall, subliminally registering the sound of Hermione's footsteps behind him.

"What d'you reckon?" he asked Hermione without looking at her, completely wrapped up in his thoughts. "This is bloody damn madness, I tell ya! How could Dumbledore have wanted that? How could anyone-"

Ron stopped dead in his tracks as the sound of Hermione's footsteps was replaced by a dull thud.

"Hermione?" he said tentatively and turned around.