Love all of your reviews, everyone. You guys are great! I'm leaving this on a little cliffy, but don't worry. Next chapter will be up tomorrow. I'm sorry! I really do try not to be cruel!
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If Hermione Granger had had any idea at all about the amount of trouble her pretty little sea shell would cause, she would have left the blasted thing on the French beach and walked off in a huff.
As it was, Divination had never been her favorite subject. It would prove to be rather unfortunate for everyone.
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Breakfast had been a casual affair the next morning, as well as a very late affair. Actually, all things considered, it had been more of a brunch.
After such an exhausting time the day before, the three mates were content to just sit in good company around the large dining table and lazily nibble on toast and cereal as they chatted. Sirius and Remus had already eaten much earlier and had now withdrawn to the study to drink tea and play chess, letting the teens have the run of the dining room as they slowly woke up.
Sirius was basking in a warm heavy contentment. It pleased him to no small measure that he had been able to give his godson a genuinely joyful birthday for the first time in the boy's young life. Every smile, every laugh and every stolen glance of acknowledgement that he had been given by Harry during the day yesterday was indelibly etched into his memory as a gift. His happiness was only slightly twinged bittersweet by the idea that Harry's fourteenth birthday was yet another milestone day in the life of the beloved son of his best friend that James would never get to see. As happy as Sirius was to have been able to share it with his godson, he couldn't help but be pained that there were always going to be some things that could never be changed no matter how much we would like to be able to. The gift of long ago that he had been able to finally give his godson had helped a bit and he contented himself to sit amiably with his remaining friend who, he knew instinctively through meaningful glances and unsaid words, had been feeling much the same way.
As the two men plotted and planned their strategies, steaming cups of orange blossom liquid resting patiently at their sides, they could hear the low murmur of the three mates in the dining room occasionally breaking out into laughter. Sirius was struck by just how similar their friendship seemed to be to the one he enjoyed with James and Remus. When they could help it, neither man in the study thought about the traitorous rat when reminiscing about the past.
With his head bent over in deep contemplation, Sirius barely noticed Harry's entrance into the study until the boy walked up behind him and proceeded to lean casually against Sirius' shoulder and the side of his chair. Smiling inwardly at his godson's overt display of affection, he hooked his arm around the small waist and pulled Harry closer to him, giving him a fond wink.
"Well, what do you think?" he asked mischievously, indicating the chessboard. "Do I have a prayer, or am I to be thoroughly trounced?"
Harry lifted one eyebrow and looked down at him pityingly. "Do you really want the answer to that question?"
Sirius threw his head back and barked out a loud laugh. "Never mind, I'm sure I can guess," he responded with mirth in his gray eyes. "What's the plan with you lot then for today?"
Harry smirked and then lifted his eyebrows. "Well, believe it or not, Hermione wants to get some flying lessons while she's here. She doesn't enjoy it, but she is absolutely determined that it is something that every witch and wizard should know how to do. You know how she can be a little mental when it comes to lessons."
Sirius and Remus both burst into laughter. Hermione's need to overachieve was no secret whatsoever. She had been positively distraught upon finding out that Sirius had excused Harry from his Monday morning Charms lesson to entertain his friends. Sirius patted Harry on the back and then pushed him away gently.
"Well, go have fun. Watch over her carefully, mind you. If she gets nervous, don't push her." Harry started to make his way to the door. "I won't, I won't," he grumblingly promised. Calling after the small retreating form, Sirius reminded him "And remember that we promised Ron and Hermione's parents that they would be back by five o'clock, so don't go far and don't be late!" He heard a small huff and knew, without seeing, that Harry was rolling his eyes and smirking when he called back "Yes, sir." Sirius' grin of amusement spread from ear to ear. He loved the little banter that the two of them had fallen into.
When Sirius returned his attention to the chessboard, Remus was quietly looking at him for a moment before he resumed the conversation that Harry had interrupted.
"So, he liked it, then?" he asked in a melancholy voice. Silently, Sirius nodded. The atmosphere in the room darkened a bit as both men remembered Harry's parents. Sirius sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat.
"It was so hard to see it, after all of these years. I remember watching James create it. He was very enthusiastic about it, but I could see in his eyes that it was destroying him at the same time. It was almost as if he were thinking that it was a question of when, and not if, I would give it to Harry."
Remus nodded at him. "I know. I watched Lily go through a dozen drafts of that letter before she finally settled on the finished one. I don't know how either one of them got through it as well as they did. Merlin help me if I ever had to do that for my child." A pained expression made its way across Remus' face before he spat out his next comment. "Not that I'll ever have a child anyway."
Sirius knitted his eyebrows and grimaced at the harsh statement radiating from his dear friend. "Oh, come now, Moony. There's no reason to believe that you will never get married and have a child yourself."
Remus gave him a very sad smile, his eyes hard. "No, Sirius. I gave up any idea of that a long time ago. No woman in her right mind would have me, with all the baggage that comes with me. It's better to not think about it." Shaking himself determinedly out of his momentary lapse into the doldrums, he jerked his chin at his old friend. "Besides which, we always have you to carry on the Marauder bloodline. You're not looking too shabby anymore. If either of us is going to give Harry a god-brother or sister, it's going to be you."
Sirius shook his head slowly. "No, Remus. That is no longer part of my future. Harry is my life now. He is all the son I would ever want and I'm going to see to it that he gets through the next war as unscathed as possible. Whether we want to think about it or not, so much rests on his small shoulders and he is going to need all the love and support I have in me to give to help him through."
Suddenly, the weary godfather felt much older than his thirty five years as he leaned back heavily into the padded seat back and took a long sip of his tea. He sat in silence with his oldest friend for a moment before he felt the penetrating gaze of Remus burning a hole into his head. He cocked an eyebrow and looked up to see the normally placid faced werewolf glaring angrily at him.
"You are not alone, you know. I'm here for both of you," Remus growled at him fiercely as a stern reminder.
Nodding his head, feeling very tired and drained, Sirius acknowledged the gesture. "I know, Remus. I know. As we are for you."
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"Put your hands closer together."
"Better, better."
"Now, lean forward a bit."
"NO!"
"Not quite that much."
"Okay, okay. Good."
"Now turn to the side."
"NO!"
"Hermione!"
"Are you okay?"
As Hermione squealed and tumbled a few feet off her broom to land, with an undignified thump, on the hard ground her two best friends raced to her side to worriedly check for any injuires.
Trying to maintain her composure, she sat up smartly and began to pull grass from her hair. Dropping to their knees, Harry put a soothing hand on her back as Ron tenderly examined the abrasion that had been afflicted on her right elbow.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't fuss," she huffed in total embarrassment. Shaking the boys off, she got to her feet, a determined look on her small face. "Again," she declared with a stern emphasis.
Grimacing at each other, the two boys rose to their feet. It didn't miss the notice of either one of them that their best friend, who was normally good at everything she tried, just had no talent for flying. While some things could be studied and studied and then acquired, flying was a natural talent. You either had it, or you didn't. Unfortunately, they both knew that Hermione definitely did not have the talent. It didn't make her any less determined to master the art though.
Resolutely striding over to her traitorous broomstick, she held out her hand and, after grouchily demanding three times "Up!", it finally rose shakily in the air until she could grab it. Despite the stick's obvious unwillingness to obey her, she stubbornly mounted it and rose quivering into the air.
Taking a deep breath, Harry easily mounted his Firebolt and prepared to tail her when Ron called to him.
"I'm going to just lie down on the bench for a minute, mate. I'm still not feeling very well."
Harry took a good look at his gingered friend and nodded in agreement. Ron was still looking a little green. Yesterday, during the festivities, he had literally eaten himself sick. The overabundance of treats on offer during the celebrations was, by far, too tempting which is why he had practically passed out from the massive consumption and had to be levitated into bed. He had eaten only dry toast and tea for breakfast. Something which had earned him surprised and concerned stares from his friends who were used to seeing him tuck into a plate of sausages like a condemned man eating his last meal.
Harry watched Ron skulk off to one of the team benches at the mouth of the pitch before shooting off in pursuit of Hermione who, he was scared to see, had risen higher than normal and appeared to be wavering more than a little bit. Catching up to her quickly, he held out a hand and steadied her as she relaxed under his support and leaned properly. Allowing Harry to gently guide her, Hermione's confidence grew a little more as the minutes passed and her less stiff posture actually improved her bearings as they slowly lapped around the pitch. Rotating around the large oval, they tried to discretely ignore the site of their friend as he lay on the bench on his back. His right leg dangling to the ground to steady him as he held his left forearm across his eyes. He had not moved in several minutes and Hermione was hoping that he was getting a bit of a nap.
Without Ron watching, and taking advantage of Harry's comforting and non-judgmental instruction, Hermione grew more and more sure of her control and the two found themselves riding a little higher in the sky with each revolution. Hermione was pleased with her progress and Harry was just as thrilled that she seemed to no longer be in danger of plummeting to her death. So happy were they, that they stopped looking for Ron until they realized that he was no longer on the bench.
It was a great big mistake.
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Lying on his back on the cool metal bench, Ron tried very hard to keep his breakfast down. His stomach was churning violently and felt his skin breaking out into a little bit of a cold sweat. His head was aching and there was a faint sound of rushing wind in his ears. Even his muscles ached and it was only by keeping his eyes closed that he was able to block out the periodic bouts of dizziness.
Vaguely he could hear Harry and Hermione as they looped closer to him. He mentally chastised himself for being useless on the very day that Hermione got it into her head to learn to fly properly. He had wanted to teach her for two years and now, just because of an uncontrolled glut on his part, he had to sit by and watch as Harry did it for him.
Damn.
He had tried to keep up as long as he could. He didn't think she would be at it very long but, once again, he had underestimated her determination and perseverance when undertaking a new challenge. She was positively single minded and focused once the mood struck her. It made her a fierce friend and a top notch scholar. Also, on occasion, it made her a right regular pain in the arse.
He groaned as another wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. This weekend was turning out just perfect.
Not that he wasn't happy for Harry. If anyone deserve a big party like the one Sirius threw yesterday, it was his best mate. Life had not done Harry any favors. True, he was rich and famous, but Ron saw him look too thin and haunted after a summer with his "family", he had heard the nightmares his friend had regularly and saw the pain in Harry's eyes when he studied the photos of the parents he would never know. So, while Ron knew that his parents would never have the means to host that kind of party for him, he didn't begrudge his mate one minute of it.
However, unbeknownst to his two best friends, Ron had not had a good last couple of days.
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On Thursday, he was feeling cross and bored. Percy would not stop droning on and on and on about his new job at the Ministry and their parents were crowing over him with rapt attention. Fred and George had been up to something for the past week and it was all whispers and secretive looks from them. Bill and Charlie had not yet arrived and even Ginny had been staying the week with their Auntie Muriel. Ron was feeling remarkably like a fifth wheel. This wasn't something that usually happened in the Weasley family. With so many siblings, there was always someone around to do something with. He knew that Harry was having lessons during the week and preparing for the big party, so there would be no visits there and Hermione was still in France.
So, that is how he found himself getting into mischief Thursday morning while everyone else at the Burrow was otherwise occupied. As he was wandering around the yard, throwing the occasional garden gnome out of his way, he saw Fred and George surreptitiously make their way out of the old garden shed, looking very excited about something as they padlocked the door. Hiding out of sight, Ron watched them go into the Burrow. Moving as stealthily as his gangly frame would allow him, he darted to the shed and peeked through the cracked dirty window. Through the layer of grime, he could barely make out an old battered wooden table that had a long sheet of parchment lying on top. On the parchment were several dozen brown squares.
Intrigued by the possibilities, he pushed open the window and clumsily hoisted himself through it, tearing his jeans in the process. Once he was inside, the overwhelming smell of fudge assaulted his senses and he knew, right away, that the brown squares were some sort of candy.
Now, Ron was not a stupid boy. On a certain level, he knew that anything associated with his twin brothers ran a good risk of being mildly dangerous. So, it was not as if he purposefully proceeded without caution when he decided to try one of the sweet sticky squares. He had his reasons.
1. He was incredibly curious as to what Fred and George were spending all their time doing in the shed.
2. If he volunteered himself as an unofficial guinea pig, perhaps they would let him in on the gags. After all, they were pranksters, but they did not do anything really harmful.
3. The fudge did smell awfully good and, let's face it, he was hungry.
It wasn't his shining moment.
Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed one of the chunks and popped it into his mouth. It did taste really good, surprisingly enough. He grabbed a second piece...and then a third. Nothing happened. He scratched his head in confusion. Were the twins planning on becoming candy makers? They did spend quite a bit of time at Honeydukes.
He really should have known better.
On the fifth piece (little buggers were very addictive), he started to feel a little flushed and he could feel bumps erupting on his face. As he started to hyperventilate in panic, one of the bumps burst open and released a large (rather icky) spray of...well, he didn't really want to know what it was. Forgetting his plan of volunteering his testing services, he ran to the house, screaming for his mum.
In the chaos that ensued, Molly was able to finally dose Ron after a fashion and although Ron didn't admit to either what he had done, or who had provided him with the means, his mother was no fool. After calming the hail storm of exploding blisters on her youngest son's face, she stomped up the the twins' room where she proceeded to inflicted blisters of her own on the identical backsides of the serial pranksters.
Unfortunately for Ron, the twins could handle being on the business end of their mother's wooden spoon as a fair punishment for cooking up fever fudge secretively. It was when she owled Hogwarts and rescinded her permission for them to visit Hogsmeade for the fall term, that they very vocally declared war on their nosey sibling. It was with this in mind that, upon seeing Ron repeatedly admire a small object that he was keeping in his pants pocket during the party, Fred took the opportunity of snatching said item out of Ron's hand and threw it up in the air where George proceeded to bat it, unmercifully, into the forbidden grove.
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As he lay on the bench, he could see Hermione and Harry soaring far up in the air, a good distance from him. Grumpily, he cursed his uncooperative stomach and was rewarded with a large and painful twist that knocked him almost to the ground. Hoisting himself halfway to his feet, he loped outside the pitch and, bracing his right hand against the side wall, was violently sick for several minutes. In hindsight, he would later realize that eating like a horse the day of Harry's party was probably not a good idea on top of all the potions his mother had made him ingest to rid him of the fever blisters.
After the last round of heaves, he propped himself against the side wall and panted wearily from the exertion of his nausea. In a semi-feverish haze, he belatedly realized that he was staring at the entrance to the grove and he curled his hands into fists.
Prats.
Of all the things that they could have done to him, why did they have to take the pretty little shell that Hermione had given him? Why? It was just so cruel. He didn't know why he had become so completely attached to it. It's not like he had never received a gift from her before. They regularly exchanged birthday and Christmas gifts.
The shell had been special though. It was just a 'thinking of you' gift. No reason. No Ministry sanctioned holiday. Just a little something special. He would not admit it to himself, but he liked the idea of Hermione thinking of him, and only him, as she strolled a pretty beach on the French Riviera. Now the thoughtful little token was lying somewhere amongst the strange twisting trees that he was forbidden to go near. Even without the stern warning he had received from Sirius upon his arrival at Celestial Court on Saturday, he knew he shouldn't go into the grove. He had felt really badly about almost getting Harry into trouble that last weekend he visited. When the Quidditch teams formed yesterday, he had not asked, and Harry had not offered an answer as to where the quaffle came from. Maybe there was a way to retrieve items from the temperamental trees?
Getting more and more irritated, he slammed his fists against the side wall of the pitch repeatedly, almost to the point of drawing blood. Without realizing what he was doing, he slowly started to walk towards the grove entrance.
Maybe I could just look from outside and see if I see it somewhere?
As he moved closer and closer, the comforting smell of peppermint started to assault his senses and calm his acidic stomach. After the barrage of ailments he had experienced the past few days, it felt really nice. Closing his eyes to relish the unexpected comfort, his feet developed minds of their own and took him closer....closer....closer, the soothing scent getting stronger and his nausea weakening with each step. Before he knew it, he was at the entrance.
Opening his eyes, he blinked rapidly and saw, glowing on the cobblestone path in front of him, a very small object. Even though he couldn't really see what it was, he instinctively knew that it was his shell. And it was so close, he felt as if he could almost touch it if he just pushed himself a little bit more forward.
I shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong. It would only get everyone in trouble.
Ron fought himself internally against the overwhelming desire to cross the threshold, his mind and his heart warring amongst themselves. As the intoxicating aroma swirled around him, he could practically feel it carrying him bodily into the treeline and propelling him, against his will, onto the cobblestone path.
He was in.
In an already weakened and inebriated state, he wasn't prepared for the violent swarm of technicolor petals that immediately came crashing down around him, blinding him to everything but their hypnotic shades, a blizzard of snitch sized rainbow hued blooms. He didn't care that he was now stumbling around blindly, unable to discern where he was walking and how he was, in fact, moving at all. The sickeningly sweet peppermint drew him in and caused his eyes to roll around in his sockets in unexpected ecstasy. He never felt better in his life.
All thoughts of trying to find the shell or ever leaving at all flew from his mind. He was exhilarated, rapturous and spinning wantonly with unabashed joy.
Such utter bliss.
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As Harry and Hermione marvelled over her vast improvement on the rented Nimbus, they finally turned their attention towards Ron to see if he had noticed that she no longer required Harry to steady her. Banking around slowly to face the area where Ron was resting on the bench, they stopped short.
He wasn't there.
"Do you think he went inside?" Harry asked, confused and concerned. It wasn't like Ron to not tell them where he was going when they were meant to be out together.
"I don't know, possibly." Hermione's voice was laced with hurt. She was so proud of her aerial accomplishment and not to have Ron see her, when she knew how important flying was to him, upset her more than she was leading on.
Harry frowned. Maybe they should have offered to go back with Ron when he said he needed to lie down. What kind of friends were they to insist that he take refuge on the hard metal bench when he could be resting much more comfortably inside on his bed? Besides which, as Ron was obviously feeling more poorly than he had admitted, once Harry knew, he should have insisted that Ron at least have Sirius or Remus take a look at him. He knew that Sirius kept a vast assortment of tonics and potions in the house just in case he ever needed to dose Harry with them. Sirius was meticulous about being prepared when it came to his godson's well being.
He continued to fret as he gazed towards the path from the pitch to the back of the house. Although it was a fair distance, there was no sign of a flash of bright red hair anywhere. As he was about to lap around the pitch, he was almost shocked off of his Firebolt when Hermione gasped and almost fell off her broom.
"Harry! The grove!"
The air stopped moving as Harry felt a block of ice form in his stomach. With a rising sense of dread, he forced himself to look in the direction of the grove and groaned like a wounded animal when he saw the the mop of red hair that he had been worriedly searching for far past the entrance of the spinning trees.
Damn it Ron! What the bloody hell are you doing?????
Anger was rapidly replacing fear as he watched Ron stumbling around, a large goofy grin on his face.
Idiot. He's enjoying himself. Is that what he thinks of our friendship?
Harry was feeling horribly betrayed. How many times did Ron have to be told to stay away? Hadn't Harry been perfectly clear about what Sirius would do to him if they were caught inside? Was Ron really that uncaring? Did he have so little respect for Harry's home and his beloved godfather's authority that he repeatedly found interest in the one place on the grounds where they could not wander freely?
As these harsh thoughts raged through his mind, Harry slowly recalled Sirius' warning about the grove wanting to trick you inside of it. Bit by bit, concern was pushing anger aside in his consciousness and he found himself focusing on the very real possibility that Ron was being bewitched and could be in danger from more than just Sirius' wrath.
"Hermione, can you make it down on your own?" he asked hurriedly, wanting to fly instead of run. She croaked her assent and started to shakily descend as Harry leaned all the way forward on his Firebolt and streaked towards the grove entrance. Dismounting faster than he ever had, he cupped his hands to his mouth and began screaming.
"RON!"
"RON! Can you hear me?"
"RON! Answer me!"
Harry could plainly see him. Ron was not even fifty feet from where he stood. He seemed almost drunk the way he was stumbling around, his eyes unfocused. Fear had not given in to panic yet as Ron did not seem to be harmed. In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself. Almost dreamy as if he was in one of Professor Trelawney's fake trances. He didn't seem to hear Harry's insistant cries and Harry felt his pulse quicken with helplessness.
It wasn't until he felt Hermione come crashing up beside him that Harry began to worry in earnest. As he carefully watched Ron's movements, his blood turned to ice when he saw his very best friend slap his hands over his ears and fall to his knees, his mouth wrenched into an agonizing scream.
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As Ron wandered around, in complete contentment, he no longer felt the movements of his legs and feet. It was as if he began to fly under his own power. His eyes had long ago become accustomed to the vibrant swirls of color around him and he had convinced himself that he was happily ensconced into a Nirvanah of pure unadulterated pleasure. In his radically altered state, he began to lose any thought of his life as he had recently known it. All that mattered to him was the blissful existence that he now found himself in.
He drew in deep heavy breaths of the gas ambrosia, a level of his mind equating the mouthwatering scent as now being part of his life blood. Mentally, Ron Weasley ceased to exist and he lost himself in the exquisite feeling of just being.
Then Pain.
Blinding, shooting, unendurable agony.
Every molecule of his body burned and raged in explosive gut wrenching misery. Refocusing on his actual being, Ron struggled against the ripping sensation of his limbs being torn from his body as he forced his eyes to open. What had been a mystical and glorious snow shower of blooms was now a raging hail storm of barbs and thorns pelting him unmercifully. Dragging his arm into his range of vision, he could see the sharp projectiles implant themselves into his skin. A fierce noise, like the unendurable wail of a banshee screamed into his ear and he used the last remaining ounce of his strength to clap his hands over his ears. The pain increased a thousand fold as he cried out to any god listening and weepingly begged for death.
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What seemed like an eternity to the suffering Ron Weasley was, in reality, only a few minutes. Watching their best friend writhe on the ground in agony, Harry could no longer keep his composure. He had to get Ron out of there. He would not watch Ron being tortured. Drawing his wand from his pocket, he strode purposely to the grove entrance.
"Wait!" Hermione cried after him as she grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt. "You know you're not supposed to go in there. You don't know what is doing that to him! We should get Sirius and Professor Lupin. They can help!"
Harry spun around angrily and shot a cold menacing glare at her. "I'm going in there, Hermione. He's in trouble. He needs us." His resolve wavered a split second when he saw the anger and hurt on her face.
"I know he needs help, Harry. But we should get it for him instead of mucking about with things we don't know about! You might only make it worse." she spat at him, thoroughly wounded and irritated.
Attempting to affect a calmer composure, adrenaline pulsing furiously in his veins, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Go! Get them! I'll stay with him until you get back. RUN!" he bellowed when she didn't move immediately. The authoritative tone in his voice and the knowledge that he wouldn't back down spurred the bushy haired girl on and she fled at top speed for the house as Harry raced into the entrance.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, he was assaulted with the colorful blizzard and immediately lost his bearings. The last fully conscious thought he had was a feeling of surprise that he had not expected to be blind.
He never even tried to use his wand before he fell into a comfortable coma surrounded by the overpowering scent of lillies. Riding on the same euphoric tide as his mate, it was mere moments before he too was brought to his knees in unendurable agony. He never stood a chance.
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In the study, Sirius and Remus were having a pleasant discussion regarding Harry's scholastic improvements. Both were immensely proud of the boy's quick grasp of concepts and genuine interest in the interactive lessons that they had him participate in. When Remus informed the impressed godfather of how quickly Harry had managed the Patronus Charm, he sat back into his chair and let out a low whistle of amazement. Harry was truly James' son.
Remus was pouring another cuppa when the square piece of parchment flew across the room and pushed itself open on the table in front of them. Holding the pot stock still in mid-air, he involuntarily choked on the bile rising in his throat when he saw all the blood drain from Sirius' face.
"Merlin, Remus. He's in the grove!"
Lightening fast, the two men shot for the door, Remus dropping the teapot as Sirius' knees connected with the small antique table and sent it crashing to the ground. Wands drawn, they ran at inhuman speed down the back lawn.
As Hermione raced to the house, she stopped short in surprise to see the two men emerge, their faces portraits of concentration. Even from a distance, she could see them simultaneously chanting counter-curses as they pounded forward, their wands pointed behind her, streaks of pale blue light sprouting from the tips and flowing in the distance. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she turned and saw the blue streaks taking hold of the spinning trees. Squinting, she was amazed to see the blue lines strengthen in length and thickness as they appeared to stop the blur of revolution.
The two wizards had long since passed her by and she regained her footing and chased them, watching, as tree by tree, blue rope by blue rope, the mass rotation of the grove started to grind to a halt.
Sirius' pulse was racing at breakneck speed as he focused all his concentration on lassoing the spinning limbs.
Harry Harry Harry
Sweat poured down his face and his ears roared with the rushing panic. He pushed it back, not being able to afford any thought that wasn't strictly devoted to the task at hand. He tried desperately to ignore the sight of both his godson and Ron rolling around the ground, silent screams issuing forth from their mouths.
Almost there Almost there
"Sirius!" Remus' call grabbed his attention. "Give then to me, Sirius. We're ready."
Nodding his assent, Sirius pulled his wand in Remus' direction and passed the dozens of blue light ropes attached to the end of his wand over to Remus. Seeing his friend intensify his concentration as he now held all the ropes with his supernatural strength, he heard Remus yell "Go!" and then bolted for the boys.
He slid in front of Harry and was relieved to see his slight figured godson slowly open his eyes. "Sirius?" he croaked weakly. Murmuring a silent prayer of thanks, Sirius embraced the boy quickly before darting over to Ron. Ron was unconscious, having passed out from enduring the pain that had not set him free until the spinning of the trees stopped. Panicked, Sirius picked up the red haired boy and hoisted him over his shoulder before turning back around. Harry had somehow struggled to his feet and his godfather grabbed his hand and pulled him forceably outside.
Charging over the threshold, he felt Remus release the counter-curse ropes and the spinning started again with a vengeance.
Ignoring the blood that was trickling from his nose from the pressure of the counter-curses, Remus sprinted to Sirius' side and conjured a stretcher for Ron. As Sirius gently hefted Ron off of his shoulders, Remus dropped to his knees in front of the unconscious boy and began to examine him with his wand. Sirius turned to his godson and frantically searched for any sign of lingering physical trauma to the small frame that was trembling in front of him.
Harry couldn't speak. He was breathless from the ordeal and his head was pounding, but he was feeling infinitely better with each intake of fresh air. His whole body was sore, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain that had made him choke and vomit for what seemed like hours. Seeing Ron prone on the ground added a level of agony to his already raw emotions. He collapsed into his godfather's embrace, bursts of colorful light exploding in his head. He strangely compared it to the fireworks display of the previous evening, feeling a wave of relief as the pain and worry receded rapidly.
Sirius released him and turned his anguished attention back to Remus and Ron. Harry hugged his arms around his own chest and panted heavily, his heartbeat and pulse struggling to level out. Beside him, he felt Hermione press up against him, her eyes wild with anxiety. Harry put his arm around her and drew her close to his chest, attempting to comfort her. After a few agonizingly long moments, they heard Remus speak.
"He'll be okay. He just passed out. We should get a MediWitch here just in case, but I think he should be fine."
Hermione sqeaked a little and shook off Harry's embrace to run to Ron's side.
Sirius turned around to glare his godson and Harry felt his blood drain from his face under his godfather's mask of murderous rage.
