Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: There is some violence in this chapter.
Thanks:Thanks to Caitlin for edits and reviewers for reviews.
Apology: What can I say? Research is a harsh mistress, taking time away from my fanfic. Sorry. I hope this is worth the wait.
Panic
Christmas was a strange affair for Ron. Despite a distinct lack of funds, he had wanted to get real gifts for his friends and family. There were any number of schemes he could have employed, including pinching Hagrid's collection of unicorn hair. He clearly remembered how much Harry had said Slughorn valued the stuff. At sixteen he had been so obsessed with idea of being wealthy, that he fantasized about sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest and filling his pockets with the rare magical ingredients. Only the Horcrux hunt and the presence of giant spiders had stopped him.
Unfortunately, he couldn't take advantage of such a juicy potential windfall. Even if he could squash the guilty feelings of taking advantage of Hagrid; a poor fourth year student suddenly possessing enough money to lavish his family with gifts was too suspicious. Anything that drew attention to himself could tip off Crouch and ruin the plan. For that reason more than anything else he would have to remain poor.
He was glad that none of the teachers had seen him threaten Draco's life, or seen him doing the spells non-verbally. He felt like such an idiot; how could he have lost it like that? Draco was just a kid - a spoiled bigot yes, but still a kid. He couldn't believe he had threatened to kill the boy. What the hell was wrong with him?
It was difficult for Ron to sort out his muddled memories and emotions of the event. When he had seen the wand on Ginny, nothing else had mattered. All he could think of was her broken body ten years in the future. It would have been so easy to slip and tighten the tourniquet on Draco's neck to the point of actually killing him.
After the incident, Ron had hidden in the room of requirement for hours, coming to terms with his violent response. It had been years since he had suffered a lapse like that. It was usually Hermione or Bill who would talk him down. Hermione always said the reaction was well known in muggle circles. She had called it PSTD. Ron wasn't an idiot. He knew that going under cover was making things worse. It didn't change the fact that he needed to get a handle on it, needed to stay in control.
As it stood he took what meagre funds he had and put them towards a few gifts. He even shrank an old sweater down to fit Dobby. The house elf's thanks had been enthusiastic, though his eyes kept seeking out Harry before coming back to Ron's gift. It was strange almost guilty behaviour, but no more unusual than the elf's usual mannerisms.
Ron opened his presents with enthusiasm that was only slightly exaggerated. He loved Christmas, he always had. He savoured the familiar routine. While the other boys in his dormitory got ready for Christmas breakfast, Ron lay back on his bed and stared up at the canopy. He found himself remembering his and Hermione's earlier holidays. He was pretty sure it was over Christmas that he had realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his closest friend.
He, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny had been hiding in a muggle home for the holidays a few years after the Hogwarts battle. The house had a well stocked pantry and the fugitives had made good use of it. Ron couldn't remember any of the conversation that night, or even what they had eaten. However, one memory was still crystal clear, it was of him and Hermione curled up on one of couches. Hermione had conjured a floating ball of fire that filled the room with soothing warmth and the slight smell of wood smoke.
Ginny and Neville had taken over one of the upstairs bedrooms leaving Hermione and Ron alone on the first floor. Hermione had fallen asleep and Ron watched her steady breathing. Her face so much less troubled than it was while she was awake. Of course he knew that he loved her before that, but seeing her sleep was the first time he realized that he couldn't picture spending his life with anyone else.
Over the years there had been many things that had tried to pull them apart. Ginny's death, the sleepless nights after Harriett was first born, an Arithmacy apprentice who had spent a few months working with Hermione's curse breaking team (she had once moaned his name instead of Ron's). Hermione swore nothing had actually happened between the two of them and Ron was eventually able to believe her. Still, their marriage had lasted and Ron still believed, as strongly as he had that Christmas, that they would spend the rest of their lives together. Part of him was beginning to realize that he had been right, they had been together until death took her from him.
Ron got out of bed wearily, his previous enthusiasm gone. Merry Christmas indeed.
The first day of the term started with the news of Hagrid's gigantic secret being revealed in a Rita Skeeter exposé. Ron was kicking himself for not remembering that piece of history. He could have spared the half-giant some heartbreak.
Ron knew things would eventually work out for Hagrid in the end, but he couldn't help wondering what else he had forgotten. Instead of dwelling on his failure he focused on the plan for the second to last Horcrux. The ring; the ring that had cost Dumbledore his life. Despite viewing Snape's memories in a pensieve, he did not know whether the headmaster had put the ring on because he desired the Hallow or because he needed to wear it to free it from the Gaunt shack.
Dumbledore had admitted that either was possible. As a precaution Ron would show Snape the memories he had given Harry at the time of his death. Hopefully there would be enough clues to the curse on the ring that Snape would be able to create an antidote.
Wednesday morning, Ron received an owl with a simple message from his mother wishing him a good start to the term. At first he had felt conflicted by the caring gesture; his mother hadn't sent him a real Christmas card since Ginny. His ambivalence only lasted until the words rearranged themselves into the message, "Please receive a Potions detention." The note was not signed. Ron glanced at the head table and Dumbledore inclined his head slightly in Ron's direction.
Getting a meeting with Snape was simple enough. After Harry handed in their potion at the end of class, Ron 'accidentally' spilled their cauldron full of mucus coloured goop onto the floor. It pooled around the base of one of the wooden lab stools and then began to climb up the legs like sentient porridge. The room was filled with the reek of sulphur fumes.
Snape looked up and glared at Ron. His words were in a cold drawl. "Perhaps you can tell me why you are barging around like a rampaging hippogriff when I warned you of the acidic nature of this potion."
With false anger Ron answered, "S'not like I did it on purpose!" He then muttered under his breath, "I'm surprised you can even smell it over your own stench." Snape's glare intensified, and Ron realized that Dumbledore may not have told the potions master that Ron would be seeking a detention.
Several hours later Ron's ears were still ringing from the tirade Snape had unleashed on the Griffindor students because of Ron's insolent remarks. Still it had served its purpose and Ron was able to report for detention without raising anyone's suspicions. Hermione had been visibly upset with him, however she did not push the issue. It was so out of character for her that Ron had to wonder if she suspected something. This was of course impossible as he, Dumbledore, and Snape had been impeccably careful about avoiding any more suspicious behaviour.
Ron knocked on the door to the dungeon potions lab. Snape's voice carried into to hall, "Enter."
Snape was seated at his desk going over the student's scrolls. Ron made sure to shut the door tightly behind him, "Albus said we needed to meet?"
Snape nodded, "Indeed, he believes you hold in your mind the key to a cure for the ring's curse. I must say I am not nearly so optimistic; your recent attempts at potioneering leave me to wonder if there is anything of use in there." As usual Snape's voice held nothing more than contempt.
Ron wondered how much of Snape's attitude was put on, and how much was due to his inability to interact with people. Of all the memories he had given to Harry, the one that stood out sharpest weren't those meant to show Harry that he needed to die. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it was Snape's defence of Hermione when Phineas Black had referred to her as a mud blood. That one interaction stuck out more than Snape's confessions of love of Lily Potter, or his explanation of the inevitability of Harry's martyrdom.
That, above his years as a loyal spy, was why Ron trusted the man.
Ron made his way into the classroom and leaned against the front row of desks, facing the professor. It made sense that Dumbledore would want Snape to have a look at the memories of future-Snape treating the curse. "Right, so where's the pensieve?"
Snape scoffed. "It is in Dumbledore's office - I do not need a crutch to examine your mind."
Understanding shot through Ron like an electric shock. He raised his hand in defence, not even thinking to go for his wand. He didn't even have the composure to turn his eyes from Snape. The potions master didn't need his wand; he was inside Ron's mind instantly.
The paltry defence Ron mounted wasn't even able to slow Snape down. In seconds he was flipping through Ron's memories like a photo album. Ron couldn't even watch the images through his crippling panic. He was vaguely aware of Snape's taunting voice, "Honestly Weasley, calm down. I am not going to peek at any of your adolescent infatuations."
Ron's mind was blank except for the scenes of Snape treating Dumbledore's curse. When the memory reached its end Snape replayed it. Dumbledore sagging in the chair behind his desk, barely conscious, Snape explaining how the curse would only grow stronger in time. Ron tried to wrestle his mind back under his own control, the scene wavered, but Snape steadied the image as one would stay the rocking of a small moored boat.
It was no good. Ron was helpless, trapped in his own mind, panicked, not even able to control his own thoughts. It was as bad as the imperius curse.
The memory came suddenly - it overwhelmed the scene Snape was viewing. Ron was on top of Ginny, his fists crashing down on her face. Her hands no longer trying to defend herself, motions no longer controlled, feebly batting at Ron's blows. Ron was blind to her pain, blind to the pain in his broken hands. He was floating in a euphoric cloud, all the while the voices whispered, "Good job. You're doing so well. Keep hitting it. I'm so proud of you."
Snape was no longer fighting for control of Ron's mind. He was as helpless as Ron to stop the scene. It didn't last much longer - when the Death Eaters lifted the curse, Ron could do nothing but stare at what he had done. They left Ron curled in a ball on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood and vomit, as their laughter echoed through Ron's head.
Snape was out of Ron's mind. The potions master slumped against his desk, his face a pallid shade of grey. Ron scuttled away from him. He didn't care that he was a grown man and that he shouldn't be scared of a bully like Snape. He just needed to get away. It wasn't the memory that made him act this way; he had come to terms with the horrors of his past years ago. It was the legilimency, the lack of control of his own thoughts. The ability to make him do those things.
Ron's entire body was shaking. Snape tried to approach him, but Ron shrank away. He was surprised when his back hit a wall of cabinets. He had somehow scuttled to the opposite end of the room. "Weasley..."
"St-Stay away from me." Ron stuttered. His voice cracking.
Snape froze in his advance. He looked from Ron, to his own shaking hands and back, his eyes wide and scared. Ron wondered how real the scene had been for Snape? Had he felt her nose break? The potions master seemed to be at a loss on how to proceed. He finally spoke. "I shall fetch the headmaster." He left the room in a flurry of robes.
As the sound of Snape's steps faded, Ron got to his feet. He always panicked like this when others tried getting into his mind. It was worse than his phobia of spiders as a child. Even Hermione, who tried to teach him the basics of occlumency after Ginny, had left him shaking on the floor. At least she had asked before trying, and she had been far less forceful than Snape.
Ron stumbled towards the door to the potions stores; he knew what he needed. The door was locked, but that didn't matter. There were any number of spells for getting through tricky mystical locks, though Ron didn't bother with them. Instead, he choose to blast the door off its hinges.
He ignored the scattered potions ingredients, instead heading to the cabinet at the far end of the room where Snape kept the supply of medi-potions. He pulled open the glass case. There was dreamless sleep, organ mending elixirs and dozens of other concoctions; however, Ron settled on a small clear blue potion.
Even without a label, Ron knew it by colour. 'Draught of Eternal Calm' Ron had taken it for years after Ginny, until Hermione had given him the ultimatum. Her or the potion. She had helped him flush his supply down the loo.
The potion took away all those pesky emotions, Ron had considered sneaking some since he had arrived in this time. The only thing staying his hand was that he hadn't wanted to lose the good with the bad. He didn't want to lose his love for his wife and daughter.
That didn't matter now, he couldn't face it; the panic, the grief, the anger, the fear. He unstopped the bottle and found a measuring spoon. If he had been in his right mind he may have realized that the dose for a hundred and twenty pound boy was different than for a hundred and eighty pound man who had been using for years. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe he would have taken the dose anyway. As it was, Dumbledore and Snape found Ron on the floor of the potions lab, staring at the ceiling without blinking. Still conscious, but too apathetic to even look at the two professors.
As soon as Dumbledore saw the boy's prone form he said, "Call Popey."
Harry's POV
Harry returned to the dorms late, golden egg clutched in his arms. He had been planing on spending the evening playing a game of chess with Ron, or maybe working on his transfiguration essay with Hermione. These plans were ruined when Ron received a detention and Hermione found out that Harry still didn't know what the egg meant.
He did the only thing he could: swallowing his pride, he took Cedric's hint. He had worked out the clue with Myrtle's help, but was almost wishing he hadn't. He had no idea what spells would let him breathe under water. He would have to enlist Hermione's help in the morning; if anyone could find a spell, it was her.
That was his plan, it ended seconds after he entered the common room. As soon as the portrait closed behind him an uncertain voice whispered, "Harry?" The boy's eyes were wide, he looked scared.
Harry jumped when he saw Neville peering in Harry's general direction. Slipping off his invisibility cloak he asked, "What's the matter Neville?"
"It's Ron - McGonogal came and got Ginny and Hermione and hour ago. She said Ron was hurt, he's in the hospital wing. When they couldn't find you, Hermione told me to wait, that you might have your cloak." Neville said, stumbling over his words.
The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach; had Ron been hurt while on his mission for Dumbledore? If Ron died because he was trying to find the person who was after Harry... Guilt twisted his stomach. He was about to turn and run to the hospital wing when Neville stopped him, the boy hesitated before asking, "Can I come?" Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion and Neville continued nervously. "Ron's my friend. I asked him if I could ask his sister to the ball and he said she'd be lucky to go with me."
Harry couldn't say no to the worried look on Neville's face so he nodded, "I'll make sure the coast is clear."
He took out the map he had forgotten to clear on his way back to the common room and spotted Filch at the opposite end of the castle. If they hurried, their path would not cross his. The two ghosted through the halls. The light spilled out of the hospital wing, and Harry could see Ginny, Hermione and the twins around a bed.
As they entered the wing, they saw Snape and Madame Pomfrey speaking softly to one another. Snape looked paler than usual, his face was tight and closed off. He kept glancing at the bed surrounded by Griffindors. His fists were clenched tightly. He was the first to notice Harry and Neville, but said nothing. Harry wondered if the man was feeling ill.
"Harry!" Hermione said with relief. "We couldn't find you when Professor McGonagal came to get us, I would have waited for you, but I didn't want to leave him like this."
Harry ran across the room. A hundred different scenarios running through his head. What had happened to Ron? How was he injured? It was almost anticlimactic to see him lying on the bed with his eyes open, apparently unharmed.
Hermione had one of his hands in hers, and she was searching Ron's face for something. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.
Fred, who had been uncharacteristically silent, answered, "Snape told Pomfrey that the idiot tried to kill himself." His words were whispered, but angry.
George glared at his twin, "That's a load of bollocks, and you know it. Ron wouldn't do that."
Harry glanced at Hermione, both thinking of the time she had caught Ron crying alone in the dorm. "What did he do?" Harry asked.
Hermione's eyes didn't leave Ron's face, "He drank half a bottle of Draught of Eternal Calm, ten times what a person is supposed to take." Tears shone in her eyes, "Dumbledore has Professor Moody searching the castle in case someone forced Ron to take the potion while Snape was gone. Dumbledore left to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." There was a long pause and Hermione added. "Madam Pomfrey said it was a wonder his heart was still beating."
Harry and Neville each moved a chair to Ron's bedside. Harry next to Hermione, Neville next to Ginny. There was tense silence broken only when Hermione had to move so Pomfrey could check on Ron. Once done she said, "He is stable, there is nothing more to do but wait until the effects wear off. You had best be off to bed, he will not be waking for at least a few days." No one moved, Pomfrey sighed. "Very well, I will be in my office if anything changes."
Oddly enough Snape stayed where he had been, watching Ron's prone form. Harry noticed the man's eyes flick to Ginny several times. Harry shivered, the behaviour made him uneasy. When Snape noticed Harry's attention he snapped, "Keep your eyes to yourself, Potter" before storming out of the room. Harry didn't know what to make of the man's erratic behaviour.
It seemed to take a very long time for Dumbledore to get back to the school with Ron's parents. Eventually Hermione broke the silence, "Did you figure out the clue Harry?" She pointed at the egg he had placed under his chair. He had been in such a hurry to get to the hospital wing he hadn't put it down.
Harry shrugged, he had forgotten about the clue. "Yeah I figured it out. It says I have to go to the bottom of the lake and get something."
Hermione nodded, "When Ron's feeling better we'll have to find some spells to help you breathe under water."
-When, not if.- Harry told himself.
Conversation was awkward and stilted. They would only say something when the silence became overwhelming.
It was nearly eleven when Dumbledore arrived with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ginny and the twins were out of their chairs and in hugging their mother the instant she came through the doors of the hospital wing. As Mrs. Weasley comforted her children, Harry noticed her tears. That was expected, though he was surprised when he saw that Mr Weasley was crying openly as well. The hug only lasted a moment as Mrs. Weasley made her way to Ron's bed.
"Oh Ron, what have you done you silly boy?" She pushed Ron's bangs out of his eyes. Even though Ron's eyes were open he did not respond to the touch. Harry would have thought he was petrified if it weren't for the fact that Ron seemed very, very relaxed. Mr. Weasley stood behind his wife, hands on her shoulders. His expression crumpled, and it occurred to Harry that he had never seen a grown man cry like this. His stomach twisted.
Ginny came to her father's side; "Is he going to be alright?" Harry wondered if she meant physically or emotionally.
Mr. Weasley looked to Dumbledore before answering. The look was not friendly. "Albus told us about the problems Ron's been having." He paused, "Your brother has been going through a bad depression sweetheart. He was ashamed, and didn't want the headmaster to tell anyone about it. Albus has been meeting with Ron, trying to help him through it." Anger leaked into his words, though it was clear he was attempting to conceal it. Anger at Dumbledore for not telling him his son was ill.
Ginny went rigid. She had realized, just as Harry and Hermione had, that Dumbledore was lying to her parents. It looked like she was about to say something, but Harry caught her eye. Later. They could confront Dumbledore later. Harry knew the headmaster would not have lied without good reason. They would confront him when the other Weasleys were not around.
The Headmaster allowed the children to stay with their friend until nearly one in the morning. He then escorted them back to the Griffindor tower, leaving the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to watch over Ron. As Albus walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts, Neville came alongside Harry and whispered, "There's a plant mentioned in that book Moody lent me. It's called Gillyweed. I think it can help you with the second task."
Harry nodded. "Thanks," he whispered in response, his mind on other things.
When they arrived at the portrait of the fat lady, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione hung back while the twins and Neville stepped inside. "We'll be in soon." Hermione said at the curious look the twins sent them.
Once the portrait swung closed the trio turned to face the headmaster. "You wished to speak to me?" he asked, looking completely unsurprised.
He was watching Harry in a way that seemed to peer into his soul. Harry was about to speak when Hermione beat him to it. "You lied to the Weasleys." She accused.
Dumbledore shook his head, "I am sorry Miss Granger. I realize that it is difficult to hear, however Ronald has a great many personal demons plaguing him."
Hermione shook her head, "No, I mean you didn't tell them about the mission you've given Ron." She hesitated, knowing the next admission would land her in trouble, "We know about the cup you destroyed in Gringots."
Dumbledore's demeanour changed in an instant. His eyes sharpened, he bent down and seemed to pin Hermione to the spot using only his piercing blue eyes. After a moment he looked to Harry and then Ginny. In a voice devoid of its usual humour he said. "I do not know how you found out about the mission, but I must insist you make no mention of it again. The fate of the wizarding world depends on you saying nothing of what you believe you know."
"You must not discuss it, even when you think you are alone. You must not attempt to figure it out. Focus on your school, and your tasks in the tournament, treat Ronald as though nothing is out of the ordinary. He has promised to give you answers by summer, and if we complete our task, he will do so. Please Harry, Hermione, Ginevra, place your trust in your friend. Many lives depend on it."
Stunned by the headmaster's plea, Hermione could only nod.
Harry, however felt slighted. What had Ron done to deserve this level of trust from Dumbledore? Hadn't Harry shown that he was capable of taking care of himself? "Why Ron? Why did you trust him with this?"
Albus gave the hint of a smile. "You misunderstand Harry. This is Ronald's mission; it was he who trusted me to help him." The headmaster hesitated before holding out his hand, "The map, Harry."
Harry felt a growing urge to rebel. The headmaster was giving them nothing, and was demanding so much trust; he was even taking away the map his father had helped create. Seeing his anger Albus sighed, "I give you my word that it shall be returned to you by the end of the year." Harry didn't meet Albus' eyes as he handed over the tattered piece of parchment. "I realize the task I have asked of you is difficult; it is often far easier to run charging into battle than to wait at the side for the proper moment, but that is what must happen. I promise you Harry, if you are patient, the answers will come." The headmaster gave a slight bow before leaving them at the portrait. It was in grim silence that the three Griffindors went up to their respective dorms for the night.
AN:This was a hard chapter to write. I have to admit the idea of Ron not being able to fight off the imperius was the real seed of this story. All too often in fanfiction the protagonist has the iron will of Conan the Barbarian. I like the idea of one with a very human weakness. Who better than Ron fits that role in HP cannon.
