A/N: Am I pathetic? Yes, yes I am. Am I updating? Hell yes I am! I don't even know if anyone still reads HP fanfics anymore, but I am still thinking and writing about it, so here we are.
I dedicate this chapter to all 191 followers of this fic. I hope every single one of you enjoys the update!
And a special shout out to those who still believed I would update, or posted those reviews months and months and months after my last update. Because, seriously, you're the reason why I'm here updating today.
Warning: This chapter references the last chapter, which references the last chapter...it probably doesn't help, but I'd just recommend reading the last several chapters if you're as rusty as I am on this story.
Another Warning: There is some gore in the flashback. Just a bit of a head's up to the squeamish crowd out there.
The Tales of Weasley the Father
By dieselwriter
Chapter 28: The Tale of Action
"Easy does it, son."
"I can't really tell if you're more concerned for your fingers or for your invention."
"I can't believe you have to ask that question."
Ron smiled before shifting on the wooden stool, wincing.
"This would be easier if you'd stop breathing all over my shoulder."
Arthur held the contraption as still as physically possible and Ron mumbled Melding Charms under his breath to fuse the metal slats together.
"This is going to be one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. I'm old, son, I don't have a lot of life left. Forgive me for being unable to contain my excitement."
"If this thing is one of your greatest accomplishments…well, Dad, I hope you live a lot longer than you expect."
"This is going to be wicked."
"Better than the Ford Anglia?"
Blue eyes flickered warmly at a nearly forgotten memory.
"Well…it'll be close."
"Brilliant," Ron smiled as he placed his wand on the workbench and leaned back to survey his work. "What do you think?"
"If this works, your Mum owes me quite a few apologies," Arthur beamed, staring at their accomplishment with pride.
"And Hermione will owe me quite a few Galleons."
"You placed a bet on my invention?"
"There's a whole family pool, Dad. Bill and Percy already owe me since we didn't blow up the shed in the process of making it."
"This will revolutionize magical communication…we're making our mark in wizarding history…and my children are trying to make a quick Galleon out of it," Arthur hung his head in mock disappointment. "What will my cut look like?"
"If we can get it to go on the first practice run, I'll split you 50/50."
"I'm the inventor here. It should at least be 60/40."
"Only if I get 60, Dad. I'm the one with the Galleons on the line."
"Does your mother know about this?"
"Please. She spends enough of her life trying to ignore the existence of this shed."
Arthur sighed.
"Ron."
"She's only down three Sickles. She didn't think you'd have anything close to ready to test until next year. I don't think she accounted for my help."
"Clearly not," Arthur shook his head sadly before slapping his son on the back. "No sense in waiting now. Let's give it a test run."
"That's the spirit!"
The father and son duo grabbed their wands and the prototype before exiting the dilapidated shed-made-laboratory.
"Why don't you head over to the other side of the house and I'll set things up on this end?" Arthur said, juggling the large metal contraption with a scrap of parchment, wand, and ink-filled quill.
"We're not really going to push the limit?" Ron asked, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"What did you have in mind?"
Ron just grinned wider before turning on the spot to Apparate.
Arthur waited a few minutes, curious as to what his son was up to. When he didn't return, however, he understood the message pretty clearly.
"Granddad? What're you doing?" Hugo called, having left the confines of the Burrow to check on his father and grandfather. He gaped upon seeing what the man held in his arms. "Is that…it?"
"You want to help your father and I test it out?" Arthur beamed, ever-pleased to see the interest his grandson held for one of his inventions.
"Awesome!" Hugo exclaimed, sprinting to close the distance between them. He held his breath upon viewing the impressive machinery for the first time. "What're you calling it?"
"We're a little more worried about getting it to work before spending time on marketing it. That sounds like a job for you and your sister."
"Flash Mail," Hugo supplied automatically, never taking his eyes off the magically modified radio-controlled airplane. "I was thinking about it all day. Is it really ready for a test run?"
"We hope so," Arthur replied, inspecting the low wing with nervous excitement.
"Uncle Harry won't be happy about this. Last time the betting pool was updated he had 10 Galleons on the first attempt not being able to make it five feet without bursting into flames."
"We haven't started it up yet. There's still time for that," Arthur's smile dipped a bit when he glanced at his grandson, who looked to have a bad taste in his mouth. "What's wrong, Hugo?"
"We haven't seen Uncle Harry in over a month."
"Hey," Arthur looked to the child compassionately. When Hugo's forlorn eyes remained downcast Arthur put aside his contraption to place both hands on the young boy's shoulders. "Hey."
"It's stupid," he shook his head, embarrassed at the sudden surge of loss he felt.
"It is not stupid, Hugo."
"I miss him, Granddad," the young boy continued to avert eye contact. "I miss my house. I miss the way things used to be before this old, dumb, Death Eater guy came and ruined everything."
Hugo blinked back his tears and squirmed in the older man's grip, but Arthur kept a sturdy hold on him.
"Have you talked to your father about this?"
Hugo shrugged noncommittally.
"You should," Arthur continued on. "He'd tell you exactly what I'm about to tell you. Are you listening?"
Hugo looked up at him and nodded, clearly attentive.
"Now when your father and Uncle Harry had their first solo mission as Aurors—"
"Wait wait wait!" Hugo interrupted, looking utterly bewildered. "Is this one of those 'Dad tells a story to teach a lesson' stories? That's not allowed to come from anyone but him! I wasn't prepared for this!"
"Who do you think your father learned it from, eh?"
Arthur beamed and continued his son's story as his grandson fumed in confused agony.
It perhaps went without saying that the mini Death Eater reunion held at three in the morning in the middle of nowhere was supposed to be a private event.
"Geez Harry, my first night as an Auror and this is how you have me spend it?"
Nobody had bothered telling that to Harry or Ron though.
"It's like you don't know me at all. This is exactly the sort of trouble I would get us into. I'd be so happy to see you if you hadn't led every Death Eater in the vicinity directly to me," Harry grinned widely, looking exceedingly relieved to see his best friend despite his comments.
"You are such an idiot," Ron rolled his eyes as a spell whizzed by his ear. "You mind picking up the pace a bit? I'd prefer not getting captured tonight."
"Who's the idiot?" Harry winced when a stumble over the rough terrain pulled at a burn on his side. "Seriously. You led them right to me."
"You would be so lost without me," Ron replied smugly. "And can your knobbly knees not support a faster pace?"
"How dare you mock the knees of the Chosen One?" Harry said superciliously, feigning outrage.
"Oh what the hell kind of comeback is that?"
"And now who's slowing down? Quit laughing and hurry it along, eh? I know I'm a funny bloke and all but there really is like eight guys chasing us."
"If I hadn't spent the better part of my night tracking you down," Ron panted, hurdling over a fallen log, "I'd hex you."
"Need a wand for that, don't you?" Harry eyed his empty-handed partner.
"I can still kick you."
"Save the energy for running faster, why don't you."
"Down!"
Both dove for cover as a barrage of powerful spells launched over their heads, their hair whipping about with the intensity of the magic a breath above them.
"And up!" Ron shouted once more. "Run!"
"Oh we were supposed to be running?"
"Sing a new tune, why don't you."
"But I quite like this song," Harry responded, not even hesitating as they reached a thickening of undergrowth that demanded they momentarily split up. "I'm left, you're right!"
"Well it's nice to hear you say it," Ron beamed as Harry disappeared from his view. "And your commitment to our banter is just awe-inspiring, I hope you know."
"Couldn't do it without—"
Ron skidded to a halt when Harry suddenly went silent.
"Harry?"
An unsettling feeling filled his head with an alarming buzz and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"Harry!" he panted, trying to catch his breath as he frantically searched the wooded area around him for any sign of his best mate. "You're not getting out of letting me have the conversation credit I deserve."
He passed around a tree and felt the horrible sensation of cords wrapping around his legs, effectively entangling them. He grabbed the tree and steadied himself as the shouts of his pursuers grew far too close to his liking. He hopped forward, unable to do much else other than search for Harry without a wand, when he was thwarted once again by something far more sinister than a horde of angry Death Eaters.
"No!" Ron waved his arms around like a maniac, not even close to succeeding in removing the spider web that wrapped its silken tendrils around his face.
Gravity beat him down, sending him head over bound-heels when the ground below him suddenly sloped. He braced himself, throwing his hands in front of his face defensively, but was surprised when a greeting with the ground was not immediately forthcoming.
A swooping sensation filled his stomach as he fell, disoriented and not knowing which way was up until his back slammed into the hard ground. The breath was sucked out of him as he continued down the steep incline, his body flung around with little grace.
His descent was finally halted by a large patch of mud.
Ears ringing, head swimming, body numb, Ron stayed still, looking at the leafy canopy above him through half-lidded eyes; he had heard more than one bone break on his fall and he was not looking forward to learning which ones they were by moving around.
"Ron? Ron! Ron!"
He breathed a sigh of relief as he shifted his head minutely in the direction of the voice that penetrated through his hazy thoughts. Even that small movement proved painful.
"Ron, are you okay?" Harry cried out, although Ron was yet unable to physically locate him.
"Shut up a minute," Ron whispered harshly as the distant sound of Death Eater reached his ears once again.
It took a good ten minutes of drifting in and out of consciousness before it got quiet enough that Ron felt it safe to speak again.
"Could you quit making this rescue attempt more difficult than it needs to be?"
"God, Ron, are you okay?"
"Oh, you know, still conscious after a fall like that. I figure that's a promising sign. You?"
"I don't really appreciate testing the boundaries of my pain threshold like this. But yeah, likewise conscious."
Both took a moment just to breath, the only disturbance coming from the few birds in the vicinity that hadn't been frightened away by their abrupt arrivals.
"You don't plan on moving, do you?" Harry broke the silence.
"I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary for some time," Ron replied, frowning when he tasted mud and blood on his tongue. "Why d'you ask?"
"Well I didn't figure you wanted to get caught tonight, but you're doing a spectacular impression of someone who does, sitting out in the open like that. Also," Harry said, part of his voice drowned out by a rustling noise, "I could use your assistance."
"You're not dangling from a tree or something, are you?" Ron asked, grinning at the mental image.
"No, just bleeding out all over the place, thank you very much. Nothing too taxing, but I may require your Healing expertise."
"Ha!" Ron laughed, grimacing at the pain that flared inside his head in result. "You know it only gets better when I don't have a wand."
"Well then, I anxiously await your arrival."
Ron inhaled through his nose before curling his toes. They did so with no pain. Emboldened with this minor success, he tested his fingers. He sucked in a sharp breath when pain radiated up both his arms as a result.
"If you could ignore the unmanly noises I am likely about to make, it'd be much appreciated," Ron ground out through an attempt to move a now clearly dislocated left shoulder.
"I always do," Harry said, the soft edge of his tone bellying concern rather than amusement.
"Ah…" Ron closed his eyes tight upon finding a feeble attempt to move his legs sent a shock right up his spine and made him forget where he was for the briefest of moments.
"Merlin, Ron—"
"Shut it! That was j-just my victory cry! I find it heartening to know that the restraints around my legs came undone in the fall."
"Lucky you," Harry deadpanned. "Seriously, Ron, stay put. I'll…I'll come to you."
"You will not; I'm already halfway there."
Harry laughed through a wheeze and Ron took the moment of his distraction to roll onto his stomach, which resulted in his vision going completely black.
"Ron! Ron! What the hell did I just tell you? Stay put, I tell him. I'll come to you, I say. And what is your reply? Quit whining, he says. Don't worry yourself over my girlish squeals of discomfort, he declares. And then you overdo it and are now either mute, sleeping, or dead. Ronald Weasley, I swear to Merlin—"
"Hey," Ron blinked his eyes back open, rather confused as to what just transpired in the minute or so he had lost consciousness. "You can shut it now; I'm still alive. No need for full first names."
"I preferred it when you were unconscious. At least then I got my full word in."
"I'm pretty sure the only reason I came to was so I could continue this wonderful thing we have going on that we consider an ordinary exchange and that others would consider the slaughtering of civilized conversation."
"Then by all means, I shall continue disparaging you."
"Please, please do," Ron ground out, keeping his left hand tight against his chest while reaching out with his right in an attempt to get some form of forward progress started.
"The Sacred Knees of the Chosen One do not like to be kept waiting, Weasley."
"I…I definitely need to get you some lessons in humility after this," Ron half-laughed, half-moaned as he used his broken fingers to drag his beaten body through the sludge.
"How am I supposed to fit that into my busy schedule?"
"Cut out that hour and a half you spend looking at yourself in the mirror."
"Hey now, I'm the one who's supposed to be bringing on the insults. You keep crawling along at a snail's pace instead of whipping up those witty retorts of yours, okay?"
"You'll have your chance at insults when you see how pathetic I look," Ron held his breath as he finally reached compact earth. "Now where the hell are you?"
"You see that large bush a bit to your left?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I happened to land right on top of it."
"Oh, you are not subtle at all," Ron grinned at the predicament, continuing to crawl forward with the use of only his right arm.
"Says the carcass with one working appendage."
"Still better than none, eh Potter?"
"Better than looking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon."
"I think cheering your savior on towards the finish line would be better than verbally abusing him with Muggle insults he doesn't get and making him forget why he's bothering with this torture in the first place."
"Hey, try not to crawl toward that other bush that looks just like me, yeah?"
"It might be best if you just not talk at all," Ron replied, finally reaching the shrubbery.
"How nice of you to finally join me," Harry's eyes found Ron's in the darkness.
Ron's next retort got caught in his throat as he surveyed his best friend's dilemma. Sometime during his fall or landing he had lost a fight with the sizable tree branch that was embedded in his abdomen.
"Now don't give me those baby blues," Harry eyed him sternly, "I know I look good but this is getting uncomfortable even for me."
"And you said I was a carcass?" Ron gave him a half-hearted smile, not even sure how to start handling a problem of this magnitude.
"Oh please, this old thing?" Harry rolled his eyes while showing off his injury. "You flatter me."
"Not a compliment," Ron replied, gathering his bearings before shifting closer. "Budge up, ya git. This'll have to make due for our hidey hole for the rest of the night."
Ron winced sympathetically as Harry made a variety of strange noises and facial expressions as he did his best to make room for his friend to join him.
"Well gee Harry, you're starting to sound like my old Uncle Bilius. Horrible emphysema."
"Come on and join me then, oh master of flexibility."
"Hey, sounding like my uncle would be a blessing, considering I'm about to do a mean impression of my four year old niece."
"Then by all means," Harry flattened the ground beside him invitingly.
Ron reached a hand forward into the thicket only to pause when the sounds of oafish feet stumbling over uneven terrain reached his ears.
"Shit," Harry's already pale face seemed to lose even more color as he reached out for Ron's arm. "Come on!"
Ron gripped Harry's arm with both his hands, biting his lip at the painful grinding in his left shoulder. He did his best to haul himself forward, his fear of getting caught momentarily surpassing the pain it caused him.
It was a team effort that resulted in Ron landing nearly on top of Harry's face.
"Legs!" Harry's whisper tickled Ron's arm unpleasantly. The redhead did as told, reaching back to drag his useless legs into the relative safety of the leafy hiding spot.
Ron knew he passed out in that attempt because he woke up to harsh voices that were close enough to send his heart racing. He jumped as Harry poked his cheek before putting a finger up to his lips in a shushing gesture. A raised eyebrow was Ron's response and Harry returned it with a small smile before both Aurors listened in on the conversation happening too close to either of their liking.
"We're running circles now," a female voice argued. "Greyback's the only one good at tracking."
"I tend to agree," a male voice dripping with sarcasm returned. "Minus that one time we followed him around for an hour only to have him snuff out a gnome."
"Ha, I remember that one," a third Death Eater approached the duo, a laugh in his otherwise gravelly voice. "Good to know we've stopped the hunt in favor of reminiscing about the good old days. If you like I can start up a campfire to set the mood."
"How about you drop the attitude and give us the orders you so obviously want to dish out," the female spat out, clearly not amused by the newcomer.
"How about you fan out in that direction like you were supposed to twenty minutes ago. And if you could find Potter while you're doing so that'd be swell."
The girl muttered a few profanities under her breath before stomping away.
"New orders, by the way," the man who had to be further up the chain of command continued off-handedly. "Still need Potter alive, but you can kill the spare."
Something dark and ugly flashed through Harry's eyes and Ron panicked when he made a violent yet fruitless move. Ron gripped his shoulder and squeezed hard, searching his eyes.
Harry breathed deeply through his nose but otherwise remained still while the Death Eaters finished finalizing their plans and went separate ways. The duo remained still for several minutes after their departure.
"Nice place you got here," Ron finally uttered, attempting humor to dispel the darkness that still clouded his best friend's eyes.
Harry glanced up at him and swallowed.
"This is going to sound stupidly sentimental but I'm glad you're here with me, broken legs and all."
"I'm pretty sure the only reason you're glad I'm here is because you want to use me as a shield."
"You're a pathetic shield. You need to eat more."
"Poor choice of words when a shift to the left would cut off your wind pipe."
"If you were a bit more burlier and sturdier you may not have broken every bone in your body tripping over that mole hill. You mind bulking up for our next mission?"
"You just described McLaggen, so no. And that's assuming we even get another mission."
"Oh, come on, I think this is going well! Don't you?"
"The man with the world's largest splinter says this is going well. Please tell me you're not about to go into shock."
"Considering we're unlikely to get found by the relief squad until morning, you'd better hope not."
"There's a prospect," Ron gave a rueful smile, the pounding in his head making him feel ill. "That sliver of yours your only problem?"
"Aside from every other horribly traumatic thing that's happened thus far?"
"Your only pressing problem, you pessimist?"
"Yes, I suppose."
"Great. Knees still sacred?"
The corners of Harry's mouth curled up.
"Better believe it."
"Comfortable?"
"Not especiall—"
The smile wiped off of Harry's face instantly and he let out a painful moan as Ron adjusted his position, moving to assess the branch sticking gruesomely out of Harry's stomach.
"This is so gross," Ron replied, pleased at least in finding that the bleeding surrounding the wound was minimal. "Remind me to take a picture before the Healers pluck it out with a giant pair of tweezers."
"Only if your compound fractures can be in it with me."
"We are not talking about that," Ron swallowed back bile, not wanting to think about the throbbing pain radiating from the legs he was too afraid to look at. "People die from blood loss, not broken bones."
"That isn't even close to the truth."
"Silence! I'm the Healer here!"
Ron rolled Harry's torso towards himself, freezing in his actions at finding that the stupid branch had done the job proper and exited through his back, leaving a bloody mess on the forest floor that his body had done a great job at hiding.
"Dammit, Harry, how the hell are you still alive?"
"It…it'd be really…embarrassing if Voldemort couldn't…couldn't take me out but a t-tree branch did."
"Agreed. Guess we can't let this kill you then," Ron surmised, trying to hide a whimper as he managed to wriggle out of his cloak with his dislocated shoulder and broken fingers. "Continue being a stubborn bastard and try to stay conscious while I wrap you up, eh?"
"S-stubb…" Harry's half-hearted complaint died when Ron once again rolled Harry over, hastily compacting the exit wound with his tattered and muddy cloak.
"Brace yourself," Ron murmured, hating the squelching sounds that were made as he manipulated the fabric to cover as much of the wound as he could. He was careful in laying Harry back down, knowing that gravity would provide the best pressure to his homemade compress. "See? Now was that so bad?"
Ron's blood ran cold when he didn't receive an answer.
"That wasn't an invitation to die on me!" Ron felt bile rise up in his throat again. "Hey you, rise and shine!"
He didn't hesitate when he slapped Harry soundly across the face. Harry's eyes flew open and Ron flung an arm over his torso to prevent him from committing to any further action.
Harry blinked wide eyes at the leafy ceiling above him before shifting his gaze on Ron. "Oh, you suck as a Healer,"
"Good to hear your griping," Ron breathed a sigh of relief, resting his forehead on the arm still stretched across Harry's chest.
"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" Harry asked, lips blue.
"It's all pretty bad, yeah."
"Still better looking than you."
"Not that difficult of an accomplishment to achieve."
"Well it's no fun if we're both making fun of you."
Ron grinned, no longer possessing the strength to move from his position on his best friend's chest. If Harry was uncomfortable with his proximity, he didn't voice it.
"Hey Ron?"
Ron hadn't realized his eyes had closed until he forced them open.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad it was you."
Ron wasn't sure if he was referring to his pathetic rescue attempt tonight, or perhaps a meeting that had occurred a lifetime ago on a train ride, but either way he smiled as his heavy lids closed again.
"It'll always be me."
"So? Did it burn to the ground or what?"
Arthur and Hugo both turned as a peeved Ron Weasley came stomping up to them. He eyed the situation critically, noticing the magic airplane still lying on the ground at their side, before glaring at them both.
"I've been waiting on the other side of town for 15 minutes! What on earth have you been doing?!"
Grandfather and grandson shared a look and Ron's eyes narrowed to slits.
"No! No you did not just tell one of my stories! Daaaad! Do you have any idea how short his attention span already is? I'm lucky to get in one good story a year that actually sticks! I can't believe you!"
"Wow," Arthur chuckled at his son's tirade, "it's moments like this that make me feel 20 years younger."
"What story did you tell him then?" Ron demanded.
"Your first Auror mission."
"What? No!" Ron covered his eyes in mortification. "Haven't I told you that one yet, Hugo?"
"No! And that one should have taught you a valuable lesson, Dad! Maybe one you could put into practice, oh, I don't know, today, maybe?"
"You're right, Hugo," Ron sighed, removing his hand from his face and resigning himself to the fact that the last 15 minutes had, in fact, actually resorted in his son learning something that would stick. A whole year wasted, all thanks to his own father. The worst kind of betrayal. "I really should have just left Harry there. That bush would've grown around him."
"Dad!"
"Seriously! My shoulder's never been the same since that night," Ron rubbed his left shoulder subconsciously, as if haunted by a phantom pain.
"Ugh!" Hugo threw his hands up in the air in exasperation before heading back up to the house, sitting on the back steps to form the solitary audience of Flash Mail's first test run.
Arthur watched his grandson leave before turning to his own son, looking bemused. "Can't you and Harry find some way to smooth things over? Your kids miss their uncle."
Ron mulled the thought over, but the look on his face made it seem like he was still thinking about past injuries, which, Arthur realized, was probably accurate.
"I've knocked on his office door every day for the past two weeks. He either Floos away or ignores me. Today he ignored me for ten solid minutes and then Flooed away, which was a nice change of pace I suppose."
"Then maybe I should speak with him," Arthur looked off in the distance, a rather wise expression on his face. "Perks of being the father-in-law; he must listen to me, or else I get to take my daughter back."
"Yes, I can just picture it," Ron gave a crooked grin despite his doubts. "A full-proof plan."
"Ah, one brilliant plan at a time, I suppose!" Arthur's eyes widened in glee as he bent to lift his invention off the ground once more. "Let's start with the one that's less likely to combust, shall we?"
"The fact that the maiden voyage of Flash Mail is likely to go over better than my reconciliation with Harry is distressing."
"Where is everyone coming up with this Flash Mail name?"
"Oh, Hugo was ranting about it all morning. I kinda like it," Ron chirped. "So if our hunk of metal doesn't come to me in twenty minutes should I assume it's a malfunction or should I expect to come back to you telling stories to my daughter next?"
"No more distractions, I promise," Arthur smiled warmly, sending his son off with a nod. "Go on."
"Hear from you soon, I hope," Ron waved back with crossed fingers before turning to Apparate once more.
Ron swallowed down the brief nausea he usually felt after Apparating as he stumbled to a stop. He sighed, placing his wand in his pocket, before taking in the site of Knightstone Drive.
Nothing appeared drastically different. The begonias the Bensons had planted what felt like days ago but was in fact weeks ago were beginning to flourish. Mrs. Puckle must have had Vi over recently, for a jump rope had been abandoned on the lawn.
Ron approached his own house, realizing it had changed the most out of all those on the street. Where lights, voices, and flurries of movement had once been a constant in the home, a dark, silent, empty house had taken its place. Someone had been taking care of the yard, and Ron had the suspicion that it was a heartbroken Mrs. Puckle. Ron could spot her watering can resting on the porch steps.
An odd noise, something between a pop and a squirt, came from behind him. Ron turned to find something ablaze headed right at his face at an alarming speed. He barely had time for surprise before ducking, the flaming metal near-decapitator zooming over his head to crash into his mailbox in a spectacular blaze of vandalism.
"Well, I hope it at least made it over five feet before this happened," Ron huffed, pulling out his wand when he was certain none of his neighbors were around to view the catastrophe. "I really don't want to owe Harry any money on top of everything else."
He extinguished the flames, pleased at least that his father's Flame Retardant Charms had worked and that his invention was still in one piece, even if his own mailbox had to suffer.
He was surprised to find that the letter it was meant to deliver was also intact.
Ron folded open the note, smiling at its contents but experiencing a heavy heart at their price.
We're glad to have you here, son.
A/N: I forgot how horrendous of a cliffhanger I left the last chapter, and I realize that that was one of the cruelest things I could have ever done to my poor readers. A thousand and one apologies, because seriously. That is a horrible writer move. I am the scum of the Earth! T.T
I have absolutely NO idea when I'll update next. Zero. None. Hopefully it won't take years, because that's very pathetic, but I have proven to be very pathetic. I hope my next chapter can just be for funzies. Then again, most of this chapter was for funzies….
Forget it. ALL of this chapter was for funzies. I love Harry and Ron's epic bromance way too much. It's a bit disturbing, actually. But some things just can't be helped.
Whelp, that's that, I suppose. This is still the longest story I have ever written, and I'd like to keep it that way. So whether it be a week, a month, a year…I'll be back.
~dieselwriter