Scala ad Caelum

by GRND

Ages ago, a wizard known as Herpo the Foul defied Death and doomed the world and those who were yet to be born. His ambition was put to an end, yet briefly, for the events of the past are bound to happen again as the ages come and go. It is in the present age, as Voldemort's reign of terror is deemed as over, that the Wizarding World would understand the story had yet to finish.

27. Chapter 25 - Descent

Chapter 26 is out! I have nothing to say this time, so hope you all enjoy it!

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Scala ad Caelum

Chapter 26: Descent

Ronald Weasley POV

Thursday 10th March 1993 (Hogwarts) - Early morning

There was darkness all around him, too much, enough to completely blind him, and yet, it was so easy for him to move forward. It smelled horrid, almost rotten; what was the source of it? Ron took one step after another, very carefully to not slip due to the damped floor—despite his utmost care, he felt so steady, more than ever. One more step, the darkness remained. It was strange, but he felt safe. Maybe, powerful was the adequate word.

A source of light appeared in front of him, just like the first rays of sun illuminated the morning, and the boy just dived in.

Clarity replaced the darkness, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Ron saw the world in front of him. He stood at the end of a huge chamber, one too large to observe its end. Around him, stone pillars whose height must have surpassed the twenty metres tall mark supported the chamber's ceiling. It looked as majestic as it felt intimidating.

Then, he looked downwards, and there, reflected in the damped floor, a pair of yellow eyes stared back at him.

With a sudden spasm, the redhead woke up in his bed, totally covered in sweat and with his ragged breaths as the only audible sound over his mates' snores. "Bloody hell, what a weird dream," Ron managed to say after the initial shock. "It felt so real," he looked at his hands, just in case they weren't there. They were. It was all a dream.

He opened the curtain of his bed to sit on its border. The other two boys were totally asleep, but the redhead didn't even try to lie back again—he didn't know what time it was, neither did he care. By the time the Alarm Charm woke Blaise and Nott, around ten minutes later than him, he was already dressed and ready for the classes. "Are you in a hurry?" Blaise asked him as he tiredly scrubbed his eyes. "You never wake up first."

"I feel grateful to live another day," Ron replied, trying to forget the weird dream with a dose of matinal humour. "Come on, sleepyhead, we need to have a good breakfast today. I'm sure Professor Binns has prepared a very exciting class for today."

Ron hated Thursdays with all his soul. How could Dumbledore, the paladin of light, be so cruel to have them attend a lesson of History of Magic as first thing in the morning? At least, the breakfast was as fantastic as every morning. "Don't you think you are putting a bit too much bacon on that toast?" Tracey asked him. That made his other two friends look at the redhead with raised brows on their faces.

He felt proud because of that; they truly were admiring his dish. "In the Burrow, we call this bacon with a bit of toast," Ron replied. "It's bloody fantastic, really, you should give it a try."

"No thanks," Blaise snorted. "Such a destructive breakfast when there is a class of History in less than forty minutes would totally wreck me."

"I don't like bacon," Daphne said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Ron turned his head to look at her. "What?" He half asked, half muttered. "That can't be possible. What's more, I think it should be punishable by the law."

"You are quite happy this morning, ain't you?" The blonde shook her head. "Bacon makes me feel very filled up. I don't like it."

"Well, that's your loss. More bacon for us, then."

Daphne just rolled her eyes and picked up her copy of The Daily Prophet to resume her reading. "Did anything interesting happen?" Ron asked her.

"The Chudley Cannons won a game by twenty," the blonde answered. Her response made him look at her with surprise in his eyes. "Nah, I'm joking," she smirked. "They were about to win by twenty when the Wasps' Seeker caught the snitch. That makes it…, a losing streak of seven games. Not bad at all."

"Come on," Ron groaned. "We are just on a bad run. They'll bounce back; they always do."

"It's been a while since they last won the National League, though," Tracey pointed out, not caring the slightest about his friend's feelings. "Why do you support them so much? All the Cannons fans are like you; their fanaticism scares me sometimes."

"Theirs was the one and only game of Quidditch I've ever seen in a stadium," the redhead replied. "It was an absolute banger, more than four hours of incredible plays. I don't know why, but since then, I just became a fan of theirs. It doesn't matter if they are doing fine or horrible, what kind of fan bandwagons to another team when his is on a bad streak? I'd never trust those bastards." Then, a sudden thought came to his mind—he didn't know what team his friends supported! "Wait a moment, who are you guys rooting for?"

"I don't really feel attached to any club," Tracey started. "But since my favourite player plays for the Puddlemere United, I guess you could say I'm currently a fan of theirs."

"Montrose Magpies," Blaise piped in. "The best of the best, as the thirty-two Leagues they've won proves."

Cocky bastard. Of course he is a fan of the Magpies. Ron didn't even look at Daphne's direction since the girl still had her nose under the newspaper. However, the blonde surprised them all the moment she took part in the conversation. "Wimbourne Wasps," she suddenly said.

"What?" Both Ron and Tracey let out. "I thought you hated Quidditch," the redhead went on. I must still be dreaming.

"I hate playing it," Daphne answered as she sent him a sour look. "I also hate watching amateur games, like the ones played here are. However, I find professional Quidditch a rather exciting spectacle." Then, she lowered the newspaper, just to find her three friends staring at her as if she had grown a second head. "Eh, what's with that look? I've been to plenty of European matches since I was little!"

"Merlin, you better wake me up if this is a dream," Ron whistled as he pinched his own cheek. "I never thought we'd share a hobby!" A murderous look from the girl made him shut up—it seemed Daphne Greengrass wasn't as weird as he thought her to be. Hell, she even had a very normal pastime!

Breakfast ended, and just as fast as it had been filled, the Great Hall emptied when everyone made their way to the classes. To say he had an awful time in History of Magic was an understatement; a really huge one. "Merlin, I can't believe how interesting it was to study the Mediaeval Assembly of Wizards!" Ron complained as soon as the class ended.

Professor Binns had many, many bad points, but if there was something good about him that was the fact one could curse him or his classes as soon as the lecture ended. It didn't matter how loud the complaints were, the ghost never cared about them. "Well, at least the class was about something that still exists in the present," Daphne let him know.

"When did he say that?" Blaise piped in. "I didn't pay much attention, but I also didn't fall asleep as soon as the class started like my dear friend Ronald did."

"That's on you," Ron smirked. "At the end of the day, you better not come at me whimpering about how tired you are. I call this ability true optimization of time."

"Lockhart was awarded with some kind of title by them," the blonde answered Blaise's question. "Something about extreme courage against dangerous beasts. You know, one of those kinds of awards he's so proud of."

"How do you know that?" Tracey asked.

"I read his books during the summer," Daphne shrugged it off. "Eh, don't look at me like that. He's a total fraud, but his books sure are enjoyable—especially all the adventures he's had. You should really give it a look if you like that genre."

"The adventures he says he's had," Ron sentenced the conversation.

So far, in both of the years he had studied at Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts had been, by far, his biggest disappointment. First, it was Quirrell, who happened to be possessed by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named—just a silly and insignificant remark in his curriculum, nothing to worry about, really.

Then came Lockhart, a complete fraud who had managed to trick the entire Wizarding World into believing he was a competent wizard. He really felt sad about it since Defence was his favourite subject, but now, thanks to the help of Gerd, Riddle, Percy or even Nott, the redhead didn't care at all.

He was a few levels ahead of the great majority of his yearmates, after all. It was them who should worry about catching up with him.

That was proven the very same afternoon. "Welcome back to my class!" Lockhart greeted his students as soon as they all took a seat. "Finally, it is here! The class you've all been waiting for so long! Now, I know you already practised the Disarming Charm with Filius, but, between you and me, the only reason why we don't share the title of Duellist Master is because I don't have time to take part in the World League. But rest assured, my dear pupils, mine is one of the best on the planet!"

"I'm sure we don't need to ponder about the theoretical aspects, so let's dive into the fun part! Everyone, stand up and form a line in front of me!" The Professor went on. He eyed the students with a raised brow, his confident smirk ever plastered on his face. "Oh, I don't think you need any practice, Theodore! Let's skip you in favour of others who aren't as talented as we are, shall we?"

That made it. Without even realising it, Ron took a step forward. "Oh, you wanna volunteer, Weasley?" Lockhart asked aloud. "That's the spirit! Now, who should face him…" This time, it was Crabbe the one to move.

Crabbe? The hell does he want with me? Never ever in his life had Ron interacted with the tall gorilla—aside from that time he almost broke the redhead's jaw in one punch, that's it. To be honest, he had always believed for them, both him and Goyle, to be a pair of stupid goons who couldn't even take a shit without Malfoy ordering them to do it.

Yet, there stood Crabbe, with the blond boy sending him a very surprised look.

He wants to play, eh? Lockhart told them to walk forward. The two boys met in the middle of the class. "Okay, all I want you to do is to practice the spell, you got it?" The Professor instructed them. "This one has no point besides disarming the opponent, and I think you've already practised your aim enough through the year. Now it's your time to shine, my pupils—well, one of you will shine, at least. Anyhow, let's put on a nice show for the ladies, shall we?" He winked an eye at them before stepping back. "Come on, shake your hands before the duel!"

Ron extended his arm forward, just as Crabbe did. The bastard almost broke his fingers with his strong grip. "We have some things to settle, Weasley," the boy grunted. If it was possible to whisper with such a deep voice, Crabbe just made it.

"How so? I don't really recall them," the redhead didn't shy away from the challenge. Still, there was a very funny grimace on his face to hide how much his hand hurt. Yo, what the hell does this moron have for breakfast? Is he a half-troll or something?

The handshake lasted a few more seconds. "I'm not gonna wait for Malfoy to man up," Crabbe muttered as he moved his hand away. "If he wants to act as an obedient puppy, that's on him. I'm gonna put you in your place, blood traitor."

Oh, you just didn't threaten me, did you? The last time Ron had any problems with Malfoy and his goons was back at the start of the first year. Needless was to say that the redhead was ready to leave all their differences aside after the way Snape and Daniel Williams scolded him. It had been almost two years of peace. Unfortunately, Crabbe had never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

Ron stood at one end of the classroom while Crabbe did the same at the opposite. As soon as Lockhart gave them a signal, the two boys drew their wands out. It was at that moment, thanks to the furious look on his opponent's face, when a certain phrase appeared in his mind. "You lack pride, Ronald," Riddle told him once. "You need to show them who Ronald Weasley really is." Why the hell did Crabbe think he could take on him? Hadn't he proven over and over how ahead of others he was?

I was the fourth best student in the first year. I've duelled a dozen times with Nott. I've had the greatest teachers I could ever ask for. Hell, I even faced what remained of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named last year! Yet, the goon in front of him thought he could take on Ronald Weasley. Why? Just because he was a blood traitor? He needed to be taught a lesson.

With a confident smirk on his face, Ron sheathed his wand back in his robes. "I don't need it," he said as soon as all the eyes were on him. The redhead stared at Crabbe, whose nostrils were about to exhale smoke. "Come on, weren't you so eager to start?"

"Expelliarmus!" He exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

Much to Ron's surprise, it was a rather nice Disarming Charm. Fast and precise, the red flash of magic made its way towards the redhead, who just sidestepped it with hands in his pockets. Just as I thought, it has nothing to do with Nott's! Ron made the taunt obvious. Jump after jump, he dodged all the spells thrown at him. "Man, I didn't know you were so kind to let me warm up first," he smiled at Crabbe. "But come on, I think it's about time we start, isn't it, Professor?"

"Ehm, yeah?" Lockhart spluttered. He looked confused, as if the little spectacle he had planned wasn't following the script. "Of course, you are doing fine, Ronald! I see you are using the dodging technique I talked to you about!"

Maybe, it was because of all the eyes that were on them, or perhaps it was due to the Professor's words. The reason would remain a mystery, but Crabbe suddenly decided to change his duelling style. A guttural growl was all the fool needed to begin his charge at the redhead—it seemed the time to cast spells had ended.

Some of the spectators gasped, and Ron could almost imagine Nott's exasperated sigh. However, all he felt was a cold calm. Why should he be nervous? This just was Crabbe, after all. His wand appeared on his hand once again. "Wingardium Leviosa," he chanted in a barely audible whisper as he took a few steps back. Completely unaware of his move, everyone stared at him with avid eyes, waiting for the Disarming Charm to come out of his wand.

Because of that, no one saw the levitating, wooden chair over Crabbe's head. Now comes the pull! His magic tugged from the object, and just like that, it rocketed towards his opponent's back. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. First, it was the gorilla falling flat on his face as the other students gasped in surprise. Then, not waiting for him to recover, Ron pointed his wand at his rival's hand. "Expelliarmus," he chanted. In less than a second, the red spark retrieved Crabbe's wand.

He felt all the eyes on him, but it wasn't time to ponder about it. With a nice smile brightening his face, Ron walked towards his defeated opponent, who, judging by his shocked face, had yet to know what hit him in the back. "Here, you dropped this," the redhead placed Crabbe's wand back on his hand, kneeling by his side to make it even more humiliating. "You need to be more careful with your things, Crabby. Didn't your parents' teach you that?"

The gorilla grunted before lunging at him.

Ron was ready to curse the boy as he jumped back, but Lockhart meddled in before things got out of control—more than they already were, that's it. "Arresto Momento," the Professor chanted as he jumped between the two students. Just like that, Crabbe was stopped midcharge, his speed slowed down to a point in which the boy didn't look to be moving at all. "I think the class got a bit out of control, didn't it?" He tried to joke about it, but no one laughed.

Looking around for the first time since the duel started, Ron felt the different stares from his classmates. Some, like his friends or Bulstrode, sent him a surprised look, while Nott just raised a curious brow at him. However, it was Parkinson the one who caught his attention the most. Hers was the most perfect smirk he had ever seen—'it was about time,' it said.

Ron stood there for a few seconds—in the middle of the class he became the centre of attention. It is his fault for threatening me, was the first thought that crossed his mind. Then, he snapped out of it. Why the hell was he trying to excuse his actions? Crabbe wanted to fight and he lost, that was all. It wasn't his fault that the jerk tried to bite off more than he could chew.

"Well, why don't we continue the class?" Lockhart's voice pulled him out of his absorption. "Come on! You all get into pairs and practice the Disarming Charm! If you behave well enough, I might tell you a cool story of mine; one that hasn't been published yet!"

Ron walked back to his friends so he could partner with Blaise, however, someone didn't share that idea. Out of the blue, Pansy Parkinson intercepted him. "Professor Lockhart, can I practice with Ronald?" She asked aloud. "The best students should always try to help those who aren't as talented as them, right?"

"Yeah, of course! Be sure to share the little tips I gave you before the duel, Ronald!"

That didn't happen, you moron. Ron sent the girl an inquisitive look, in light of that, she just increased the size of her smile. "Why are you doing this?" The redhead asked as soon as the rest of the students scattered around the class.

In his entire life, he had interacted three times or so with Parkinson. Most of them, while she acted as Malfoy's lost puppy, had been rather unpleasant, but then, those two got into a fight and disbanded their group—with the girls going in one direction as the boys stuck together.

"Why am I doing what?" Pansy played dumb as she pointed her wand at him. "Come on, raise your wand! We need to practice the charm. You've heard what the Professor said."

Those words did nothing but fuel his suspicion. Still, he played along. "Expelliarmus," the redhead chanted. The red charm easily hit Parkinson's wand, which flew across the whole room to land on his hand.

"Ups, I didn't see that one coming," Parkinson giggled in a rather stupid way. She just walked forward to retrieve her wand from his grasp. "I see you are finally maturing, Ronald," the girl whispered once she was close enough. "What you did to Crabbe was to show him a lesson; you are not to be disrespected by no names like him. It took you long enough, but it was about time for you to embrace your potential."

"What the heck are you on about?" Ron grunted. Four months ago, back in November, Parkinson caught him spying on Malfoy. What he thought to be a very screwed up situation turned into a very uncomfortable one—she didn't confront him about his spionage on her blonde prince, no, the pug-faced girl showed him a taste of her true character for the first time ever. Needless to say, it freaked him out; it was too malicious and vindictive.

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about," Parkinson snickered as she took a few steps back. "It's been a few weeks since you started to hold your head higher… to look down at others like you just did with Crabbe… or like you do with me," she pointed out with a wink of her eye. "I couldn't care less about it, in fact, it makes me happy to see that change in you."

Once she was back at her initial spot, Parkinson sent a pathetic Disarming Charm in his direction. Ron just moved his hand out of its way with little effort. "I'm not like that," the redhead stated. "That's your old boyfriend, Malfoy, who used to put down his own friends without a second thought." Then, a realisation came to his mind. "Of course, that's it," now it was his turn to smirk at her. "Since that first encounter we had, all you've ever wanted from me is to use me like a puppet to ruin Malfoy's life as much as I could, eh?"

Ron disarmed her for a second time. Her irritating snickering stopped, still, her smirk didn't falter. "I should have realised way sooner, after all, Daphne told me a few things about you," the redhead tossed her wand at the girl. He had no intentions to let her come closer; that would mean to dance to her tune, and he wanted none of that. "He probably did something to anger you, and now, you want another person to follow and manipulate, ha! Well, let me tell you something. I might hate that blond rat as much as anyone, but I don't want problems with him. It would only hurt me and my friends in the long end. So, what about you sod off and look for another puppet to follow you? Just like you did with Malfoy."

A tic appeared in her eye. "Bravo," Parkinson softly clapped. It was meant to be full of irony and mock, but he had hit a nerve; it was very obvious. "You got me," she raised her hands in the air. "However, you just proved my point. Oh, if only you'd have seen your face while you said all of that… What a way to stare down at me… It was lovely. It's really a shame you lack so much spine and pride… After how hard Malfoy tried to wrong you, now that you have the chance to get back at him, you'll do nothing." The girl let out an incredulous sigh as she shook her head.

"That's what a spoiled pureblood like you would do," Ron told her. "Malfoy tried to humiliate me and he got the worst part of the deal. If he ever tries to shame me or my friends, then I'd act. My parents raised me better than to kick someone who's already down."

"Your parents should have taught you other lessons instead," Parkinson smiled once again. "Look, here is your reward for being so clever and noble," a golden object was tossed at him. When the redhead caught it in his hand, he turned livid. It was a golden galleon. "You better make good use of it, it ain't every day when a Weasley holds a galleon in his hand."

For a few seconds, his brain ordered his body to curse the bigot girl. Fortunately, the voice of Riddle helped him to calm down. Show some pride, Ronald, if he had been there, that would have been his words of advice. And so, even if he really struggled to do it, the redhead stored the galleon in his pocket and smiled at the incredulous girl. "Thank you, I'll try to give it a good use." Oh, it felt incredible to show Parkinson that he was above her and her cruel remarks. This must be what Riddle talked to me about… This is what pride means. Why the hell should I worry about lesser people and their stupid tries to anger me? I'm way better than them!

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Saturday 19th March 1993 (Hogwarts) - Middle of the morning

The third week of March turned out to be quite the eventful one.

For starters, the Headmaster announced that, thanks to the past months of peace, activities such as Quidditch would return in the next month—needles to say the Great Hall erupted after the announcement. However, even that wasn't the most talked about topic in the school. How could it be when the country's Minister made a presence out of nowhere?

Cornelius Fudge appeared during breakfast.

The man just walked into the Great Hall while everyone ate; just like that, without any words of introduction or similar. Ron couldn't help himself but to feel a bit…, disappointed—yeah, that was the adequate word. Fudge was a portly, little man with grey hair. He wore a very fancy and surely expensive dark-blue suit, embellished by a long, dark cape. The Minister held his head high in the air, not even glancing at the students, despite that, his bearing wasn't one to be intimidated by. No, he looked proud, but not as imposing as Dumbledore, Snape or Riddle would have been; not even close.

Right behind him, the veteran Auror, Henry Fawley, walked with wand in hand; his eyes sending every kind of bored look to the students. As soon as the Minister reached the Professor's table, at the end of the Hall, Dumbledore and the rest all stood up to shake hands with Fudge. "Guys, look at Snape's face," Ron whispered, trying to contain his snickering. The Head of Slytherin followed what his peers did, but he didn't do a great job to hide the discontent in his face.

"Only him could stare at the Minister like that," Tracey whistled. "What a man…"

After finishing the cordialities, Fudge took a seat along the Professors and enjoyed the food like any other. It was weird seeing the man there, especially since his attire stood out so much, however, nothing of interest happened after his entrance..

Once he was back at his bedroom, Ron opened the diary. 'Hey, can you believe the Minister himself came to the school today?' The redhead wrote as soon as he closed the bed's curtains. Since he wasn't alone in the bedroom, he needed privacy. 'He left me a bit disappointed, not gonna lie. I expected more of a man who is supposed to be the top dog of a country.'

'It happens,' the elegant writing of Riddle answered. 'Usually, those men who once were proud and powerful get far too comfortable when they finally reach power. Anyhow, why did he come? Is it not everyday when a Minister visits a school, let it be Hogwarts or any other.'

'From what I know, the Minister and his friends are quite happy with how inactive the Heir has been since those Aurors came. Daphne thinks he wants to steal the glory for himself to use it in the upcoming elections.'

'Your friend is quite the clever one. I don't really know that man, but given his position, that is a very plausible possibility, indeed.'

'Back in your times, did the Minister visit the school? Was he a man like Fudge, or was he…, more respectable?'

'If you wanna know, let me show it to you.'

Ron accepted the invitation and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he wasn't in his room anymore. He stood in the middle of a colourless courtyard, with a huge crowd around him. All of them were looking at the entrance, where a tall man stepped into the castle's grounds. "This happened a few hours after Warren's body was found,"Riddle's silky voice echoed around the whole place. "There you have it, Leonard Spencer-Moon himself."

"See, that's what I was talking about," Ron said, too used to those memories to worry about being heard by all the people around him. "I mean, he's a bit weedy, but you can tell he ain't one to mess with just by the looks."

At the other end of the courtyard, Hogwarts' old Headmaster, Armando Dipett, accompanied by a much younger Albus Dumbledore, shook hands with the tall man. He wore a very elegant cape of a dark-red colour over some fancy, black robes. The Minister had sharp features, which were partly hidden under a dense beard. However, they weren't as cold as his eyes were at that moment.

"He was considered as a very capable Minister for Magic," Riddle explained. "Unlike his predecessor, Spencer-Moon took Grindelwald's threat very seriously, and thanks to that, many lives were saved."

"The dark wizard who was defeated by Dumbledore, right?" Ron asked, not bothering to hide the evident admiration in his voice. "Even after many years, people still say it was the best duel in the history of the Wizarding World!"

"Really? I didn't know that,"Riddle's voice sounded quite thoughtful. "Say, didn't you tell me about some dark wizard whose name inspired so much fear to the people that it couldn't be spoken aloud? You know, the one Harry defeated. If he was so powerful, don't you think a duel between Dumbledore and that bastard would have been considered as the best one?"

It was a good point. "Well, since no one really talks about what happened in those years, I wouldn't know," Ron replied with a shrug of his shoulders. By the time he realised, he already was back in his bedroom, behind the safety of his curtains. "But you could be right," he finished the sentence in a barely audible whispering.

"Oh, I see," Riddle muttered. "So, you know nothing about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, eh? Then, what about Dumbledore? Back in my times, he was the Transfiguration Professor, but many people wondered why. I mean, he clearly was far too talented to waste his prime in a school. I've always wondered about it too, you know? It just struck me so odd… How could a man as talented as him be so comfortable receiving orders from a wizard like Dippet, who was much inferior to him."

"That's another thing I know a shite about, but I don't really care, to be honest," Ron replied. "Dumbledore was the hero who saved us from You-Know-Who. He saved hundreds of people in the war as he led the Order of the Phoenix. For bedtime, my father used to tell me tales about the old Headmaster when I was a toddler."

Riddle didn't answer. Instead, another voice called his name. "Ron, are you okay?" Blaise asked from the other side of the curtains. "I might be tripping here, but I think I heard you talking alone. Is everything alright?"

Bloody me. How can I be so stupid. The redhead opened the bed's curtains. There, he found Blaise, who just raised an inquiring brow at him. "Well, looks like you ain't deaf," Ron joked, acting as natural as he could. "I was reciting the ingredients for the Girding Potion. You know, those kinds of things the not-so clever people, like I am, do to get good marks. I understand you didn't feel the need to ever study for potions since you are a freak and all of that, but hey, can you cut me some slack?"

Blaise's almost worried look turned into an annoyed stare. Damn, this bastard still doesn't know how to take jokes! That made the redhead smirk—he never thought he would come to appreciate how presumptuous those purebloods were, but there he was. Oh, never change, Blaise. You don't know how funny I find those cold looks of yours!

A sudden knock on the door made the two boys turn their eyes on it. Nott stepped into the room. "Yo, we've been told to get out," the weedy boy started. "Seems like the Minister is about to give a very important speech and all that crap. We've been summoned to the Great Hall, so get your asses moving." He got out of the bedroom.

The two friends looked at each other as they both raised a brow—Theodore Nott would never change. By the time they made it to the common room everyone was there, and that included Professor Snape himself, who waited for everyone with his arms crossed behind his back and a not-so-friendly look on his face as he stood in the middle of the large room.

"I think everyone is here, Professor," the seventh year prefect—a pretty, black-haired girl who had been named Head Girl—told him with a calm voice.

Snape just nodded at her as he inspected the crowded room. "I will not repeat these words, so you all better listen to me," he started, as eloquent as always. "As many of you must already know, our dear Minister, Cornelius Fudge, decided to pay us a visit. There hasn't been any trace of the Heir for months, and the mandrakes won't take long to be ready to unpetrify those mates of yours who lay in the medical wing. This mess will end soon, or at least, that's the message he wants to transmit."

"Now, I want you all to behave as a proper member of our noble House would, was I clear enough?" He almost threatened as he sent a very direct glance to the first-years. Alaine Baldwin looked about to pass out in the spot. Been there, done that… "As soon as the event finishes you are free to go and continue your day. All except you, Marcus. I need to talk to you about the Quidditch team to schedule the training days."

The bigger and uglier version of Crabbe nodded in response as the people around him started to mutter with excitement. Quidditch's comeback sure was one of the highlights of the year.

Well, let's see if the Minister lives up to his fame, Ron thought as the whole House of Slytherin made their way to the Great Hall. To be honest, listening to that man's nonsense was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment; what was the point of it? Fudge had come here to repeat words the students already knew. The Heir had been shooed away by the Aurors and their work… The mandrakes were close to being ready… As if those two topics already weren't all people have talked about for the past two weeks!

"Within the first two minutes of speech, the Minister will comment how important his management was," the voice of Daniel Willaims reached his ears. The sixth year prefect walked not far from them, with his hands on his pockets and talking to a blond, short-haired girl—the female prefect of his year, if he recalled correctly. "I'm ready to bet two galleons on it. What do you say?"

"I raise the bet to three," the girl replied. "I win if he does it in one minute. Are you in?"

"Hell yeah!"

Everyone here seems to share Daphne's opinion. Looking around, the redhead realised that many eyes were onto them; some floating ghosts, the wizards and witches from the colourful pictures, and even Peeves who didn't even pulled a prank on them—still, the poltergeist gave him the middle finger as soon as he felt Ron eyes on him. What a cunt.

Halfway, they met with the Hufflepuffs, who were being guided by the Head Boy, a really tall and broad-shouldered guy who sent them a very distrustful look as soon as he appreciated the silver and green of their robes. Nice to see you too, arsehole! The Head Girl sped up a bit to walk by his side; yet, his facial gesture didn't change.

"Until proven otherwise, everyone will blame us for what happened this year," Daphne suddenly said. The blonde girl had been walking by his left since they left the common room, and it was now when the redhead realised it.

"How do you know what I was thinking?" Ron asked as he raised a curious brow at the girl.

"The Head Boy didn't precisely hide how low he thinks of us," Daphne shrugged it off. "Besides, you've been practically staring holes at his back since we crossed paths with the badgers." She let out an exasperated sigh, but, by the time she resumed talking, the sound of many voices reached their ears. "Looks like we aren't the first to come," she pointed out as they stepped into the Great Hall.

The four large tables were nowhere to be seen, instead, there was an empty space in the middle of the Hall, right in front of the Professor's area. There, the Minister for Magic stood, talking with the Headmaster. Behind them, around a dozen of very comfortable-looking couches had been set over a wooden dais—they all were occupied by the Professors and some people Ron had never seen before.

On each side of the Hall, two large grandstands had been built—the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws were already seated in one of them, while the other remained empty. "All of you, come with me!" An authoritarian voice called them. It belonged to Jessie Sweeney, the young Auror who took patrolling a bit too seriously for the students' liking. "There are enough seats to host the two Houses, so form an organised line and go!"

It took them more than two minutes, but as soon as all the students were on their seats, the Minister's augmented voice echoed around the Great Hall. "First of all, I wanted to wish you all a good day!" Fudge said. "Hogwarts has always been one of the country's most respected symbols, just as you, the new generation of intelligent and promising wizards and witches, have always been the hope of our great nation!"

"That is why I find myself here for today," the man went on. "Ah, this year has been a very difficult one… For you, for us and for every citizen of this country! But do not falter since the worst has already come!" He took a moment to breathe. "When the first attack happened and a cat was left petrified, right in front of that disgusting message, I made a promise to myself and to the people of England: no student would ever meet a fatal end like it happened the first time the Chamber was opened, fifty years ago!"

You screwed up big time there, mate, Ron grimaced as many people started to mutter about the Minister's words. There were loads of students who didn't know the Chamber had already been opened. Armando Dippet and Albus Dumbledore had made sure to hide all they could from those dark days. Fudge must have realised his slip, because just a few seconds after it, the man snapped his fingers above his head.

Out of nowhere, a dozen yellow banners hung from the ceiling; they all had the Ministry's logo sewed on them.

"That is why I find myself here for today," he repeated, his voice augmented a bit more. "To tell you that we are very close to putting these tragic months behind us. Because, thanks to the incredible work of the Ministry's Aurors, along with the very talented Professors who work here, the Heir of Slytherin has yet to make an attack this year!"

The unknown people who were sitting at the Professor's area fervently clapped. In no time at all, some of the students joined them—some, like Percy, even stood up to clap, while others, like Tracey or Alaine Balwind, timidly followed some of the people around them.

"Thank you, really," the Minister bowed his head a bit. "This wouldn't have been possible without the incredible preparation our young Aurors are subject to. In times of need, the Ministry and its people will always rise up to the call, no matter who or what the threat is! And so do some of our noble citizens, like Lord Leonard Yaxley, whose funds were invested into the nurturing of mandrakes of the highest quality available in the market!"

"What a clever bastard," Nott snorted from his spot, a few rows below them. "That man never misses the chance to put a bit of good fame onto his name."

"He has always tried to reach higher than he should," Malfoy told the lanky boy in a whisper. "Someday he'll have a problem. My father told me he tried to associate himself with some dangerous group of people two years ago. Some kind of Order."

"Beats me," Nott replied.

Purebloods sure like gossip, yet, it was him who put all his hearing into their private conversation. "Just as I thought, this event's sole purpose is to steal all the glory," Daphne sighed by his side. "What a waste of time…"

Out of a sudden, someone dropped onto the seat on his left, which had been empty since the speech started. It was Blaise. "Yo, I lost sight of you as soon as we got into the Great Hall," the black boy muttered. "It's such a luck you two have flashy hair."

"Where's Tracey?" Daphne asked him.

"Last time I checked she was with the first-years," Blaise replied. "Also, look there, right under the Ravenclaw's grandstand."

Ron did what his friend indicated. There, she found a blond woman who wore a very exotic, blue coat—by her side, up in the air, there was a furious quill taking notes on a parchment. "Rita Skeeter herself," Daphne muttered. "One of the most hated persons in this country…"

"Or one of the most loved if you were to ask a certain group of people," Blaise added. "Depends on whom we talk about."

Ron was about to inquire about the reporter, but Fudge, who had taken a pause to drink some water, resumed his speech. "Dark times have been these past months, I know it. But here we stand, all together, not letting the hysteria caused by a madman rule our minds… That is the reason why he has already lost without realising! He failed to control us with fear, and now he hides under the safety of a hidden identity! Oh, but I assure you it is only a matter of time for that to change. First, we ruined his plan by sticking out together, and now, it is time to reveal his name and face to the world!"

"The Heir of Slytherin will be captured and put under the justice of the Wizengamot!" Fudge exclaimed. The man was putting his everything into the speech, and his completely redden face was proof of that. "That is a promise I, Cornelius Fudge, the country's Minister for Magic, am willing to make!"

Those Ministry officials who had fervently clapped now stood up to increase their presence. Many students and even some Professors joined them. "Whoever wrote that speech for him clearly knew what he was doing," Daphne said as she stood up, joining others who did it the moment Fudge finished. "You two should do the same," she whispered to them. "It would look weird to see you doing nothing while everyone claps."

Daphne was right—hell, even people like Malfoy, Nott or Daniel were clapping like everyone else. "I don't know what the hell is that man thinking," Blaise said after a few seconds of applause. "That was a very risky promise to make, too much for a man of his position. Whoever advised him needs to be fired up right now."

"What do you mean?" Ron sent him an inquiring look. "You guys agreed he needed very good press in order to be reelected. After this speech, I don't see anyone saying that Fudge doesn't worry about Hogwarts and its problems."

"Yeah, and he certainly used the fact that the Heir hasn't shown any signs of life for months in his favour," Daphne agreed. "However, there was a key factor in his speech you are ignoring. He promised results—an identity, to be exact. He's been walking through thin ice for the past months, and yet, he's willing to bet his whole reputation to one promise the moment he manages to clear his name a bit."

Now that he thought about it, his friends were on point. "Imagine what would happen if, somehow, the Heir doesn't get captured," Daphne went on. "Or even worse, if he resumes the attacks."

"As the French say: c'est fini," Blaise added with dry humour.

"The whole country will ask for his head," Daphne continued. The applause had died as fast as it was born—now it was time for the students to walk down from the grandstands. "We are clearly missing a lot of information here, but I would bet my hand that the Minister has a very clear idea of who the Heir might be; politicians don't take such high-risk and high-rewards decisions, much less in such difficult times. That promise must have a very strong foundation behind it. If not, he and his cabinet have clearly lost their heads."

As he went down the wooden stairs, Ron sent a quick glance to the Minister. There, he found the plump man smiling with evident relief written all over his face—now that he wasn't under the scrutiny of hundreds of people, the man didn't look as strong as he did during the speech. However, the redhead couldn't care less about Fudge at that moment. Not after he saw the look on Dumbledore's face.

The old Headmaster was sending a very serious look at the Minister, who had his back turned at him. There have been very few times in which Ron saw such seriousness in the Great Sorcerer's face, but all of them had been during critical moments. A shiver went down his spine. Merlin, what the hell is Fudge planning to make the Headmaster look at him that way?

---

Levitt POV

Monday 21st March 1993 (Tower of Merlin, Greece) - Middle of the afternoon

Levitt had always hated the meetings with the benefactors with all his soul. The soldier knew they were important, and as such, it was his duty to be there as the strongest member of the company. Still, he loathed every single aspect of them. From the way he needed to be on total alert for the whole time, to the many disrespectful words a band of mercenaries like them used to receive.

At least, one couldn't say it was boring—not at that time, when the benefactors were as dangerous as they were interesting.

From atop of the First Tower, the soft wind couldn't stop him from hearing the many conversations around him. "Man, you can't imagine how much I want to fight those bastards," that Hao woman, the one who partnered with him for the mission in Crete, told his fellow High Inquisitor, the unicorn-masked man. "I can't believe they have yet to assign me an important mission!" Avarice, a very important member from Jin the Stranger's entourage, cursed in a low voice not far from him. "I need to clean this," a butler repeated for the tenth time.

He sure likes to be efficient, Levitt snorted. The immense terrace was completely spotless. That was a hard feat to accomplish given the fact the entirety of it had been built of pristine, white marble; such was the majesty of the First Master's accommodations. In the middle of it, over a very large table, made of red-tinted glass, hundreds of exotic dishes and beverages waited to be sampled by the many guests of the reunion.

The lesser men, those who had been invited for the sake of making an statement of power, needed to wander around the edges of the terrace as soon as the food was on their hands—they all had tried to intimidate him at some point of the reunion, a very cute try in the Allomancer's opinion. Many smaller, wooden tables had been set up all over the place so they could eat in peace without disturbing the more important people too much.

Then, those who really mattered—such as the Masters of the Order, Captain Jordan or even the High Inquisitors—all stood in the middle of the place. Had he wanted, Levitt was also welcomed to join them, but his actual spot, leaning over a golden handrail at one of the edges of the terrace, was a far better spot to control the whole place.

And there were many people to keep an eye on, indeed.

For example, the blind woman with platinum hair and pale skin; Shana's replacement as the Fifth Master. She wore a black blindfold over her eyes, which greatly contrasted with her soft, pink robes. Since the Allomancer stepped into the terrace, that woman's presence had freaked him out. In order to palliate her discapacity, that damned witch had expanded her magical aura all over the place. Per se, that wasn't weird nor special, but her aura was. Never in his many years of experience had Levitt felt such a stealthy magic—she wasn't trying to conceive it, and yet, he had to focus if he wanted to detect it.

"I hate that Thai mercenary," one of Master Isaac's men cursed far from him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Since he came, he's done nothing but to stare down at us! For fuck's sake, he is a bloody mercenary!"

Levitt smirked as he delighted himself in the great views of the First Tower. From his spot, if one looked to the sides, the immensity of the Second and Third Towers could be appreciated; they looked as regal and ancient as the First did. However, even that paled when compared to the sight in front of him. A bridge of white light connected the island in which the Tower of Merlin rested to a beach of pale sand. It must have been around two kilometres long, but to see such a magical structure levitating over the azure-blue water…

It was beautiful, there was no other word to describe it.

It also was a very brightening spectacle, and because of that, Levitt needed to wear sunglasses to protect his delicate eyes. He was a careful wizard, one who treated his special power, the Allomancy, with great respect. Thanks to that, the ability to enhance his senses—by the combustion of the tin—hadn't damaged his nerves a lot.

Despite his extreme caution, there were times in which excesses had been needed; with their respective consequences, of course. For starters, all his senses were more developed now, both for the better and the worse—he could hear those conversations he wasn't supposed to listen to or detect the slightest of the movements with his sight, but also, a very acute sound or a bright flash would hurt him like it did to no other man.

A bunch of seagulls ploughed through the winds not far from the Tower, and their loud cawings made some of the men around him to shut up. Suddenly, someone stood beside him. "Mediterranean weather is leagues above every other," Hikari Sakai, a woman whom he once fought to the death, commented with a calm voice.

Given their past, both the Allomancer and the Inquisitor had problems tolerating each other at first, but also, thanks to their duel, there was a silent respect between them—they'd never be friends, not as if they needed to, let it be told.

"We are in March, it ain't supposed to be this hot," Levitt replied. "What do you want?" He turned to look at the Japanese witch. She looked the same as the day they fought—short, raven-black hair and cold, grey eyes. Moreover, all her robes must have been sewn with her family's shield on them, because there it was, the winged snake from the Great House of Sakai; the only bit of colour over the black robes.

"I want this meeting to end," Sakai said. "I figured you would share my opinion, so here I came. There are no noisy men around you."

"Shouldn't you be protecting your dear Master?"

"No one would ever attack her in this place. Besides, her other High Inquisitor stands by her side as we speak."

With a quick glance to the central table, Levitt observed how a tall figure, his face covered by a tiger mask, stood behind the old lady. The Inquisitor's body language wasn't nearly as tense as it should have been in other situations, still, it greatly puzzled the Allomancer how loyal those bastards were; in particular, those under the service of Aura the Fourth.

"I can't believe they think this shit to be necessary," Levitt grunted as his gaze set on the blue sea once again. "We should discuss the important matters and end the meeting as soon as possible."

"Isaac the First had always loved to put on a show in front of his allies," Sakai told him. "Besides, many men here, like those from your company or Jin's entourage, are paid partners. The First Master needs to act as a proper benefactor." As if they all had agreed to prove her point, the men from all over the terrace laughed and celebrated like there was no tomorrow. "These lesser men need to be rewarded from time to time. Jin the Stranger understands that, but it seems your Captain doesn't share his opinion."

Sakai was right. Since the reunion started, Jin had joined his men multiple times to toast and laugh many times. Unlike him, by the order of Jordan, the Wings of Liberty had only sent two representatives; the Captain himself and his best soldier. "The hierarchy is very clear in our company," Levitt said. "We don't need to trick our men with a fake sense of importance."

A sudden clap, a very loud one, silenced the whole place. Isaac the First stood up for the first time in hours. "My dear friends, I hope you enjoyed this celebration. I truly do, from the bottom of my heart," the old man started. He had a soothing voice, and yet, it was strong enough to make everyone listen to him without the need to raise it. "Long ago, this venture started. Since then, we have been fighting to make our dreams and ambitions come true," he stopped a moment to look around him. "Jin the Stranger and his loyal men. My dear High Inquisitors. My old friend Aura the Fourth. And lastly, the Wings of Liberty."

"For the past months, we've all cooperated to archive a dream of mine," Isaac went on. "Even those who once fought against us now stand by our side." Captain Jordan raised his cup in the air to toast those words. "Many tried before us, and they all failed. For many centuries, this was considered an impossible endeavour. Until we stepped forward." Some men started to mutter, but the Master ignored them and continued his monologue. "We are at the brink of making history, my comrades! The end is near, and you all shall be rewarded for your loyalty!"

Everyone raised their cups to the air as the cries of joy echoed around. After a few seconds, Isaac raised his hand to stop them. "That time will come soon, however, it is not the time to celebrate victory yet," he said. "There will be a final confrontation. Our enemies are very tenacious, and they will not ever stand aside to watch us conquer history. Because of that, I shall implore all of you to make a last effort."

Out of the blue, Jin the Stranger jumped from his seat, spilling half of his cup's content in the process. "You've all heard the First Master!" He exclaimed with mirth in his voice. "Elend Shawn, damned be the bastard, and that traitorous harlot of Shana won't make it easy for us! What do you have to say!"

"Firstly, we'll conquer the battlefield!" Every single one of his men roared in response. "Then, we'll conquer the celebrations!"

"Those are my bloody bastards!" Jin said just before emptying his cup in one gulp. "Now, get the fuck out of here so the big guys can talk!" The foot soldiers laughed and clapped at their leader's words—some even shouted back at him. However, in a matter of seconds, they all were out of sight.

It was time for the real meeting to start. "Come on, let's join them," Sakai said.

The two of them made their way towards the centre of the terrace, where the large table had been set. There, everyone had already taken a seat, still, they waited for the Allomancer and the Inquisitor. "It is time," Jordan began. "You think this will be our last reunion, isn't that right, Master Isaac?"

"That is what I believe," the old Master answered. "From what my very trustful sources say, the Horcrux is just a few steps ahead of us. They were the only factor that allowed us to reach this far—what allowed us to have such a great advantage over Lord Shawn and his group." It didn't sound like a lie would. However, these people were dangerous and very intelligent.

"About that," Aura the Fourth cut in. "What is the most recent information we have about them?"

"They are lost, simple as that," Dragon replied. "Since the Incident of Dakovo, all they've done is try to track us down. They had no idea of where to search for the Horcrux, and because of that, they've achieved nothing. Sure, they intercepted some of our expeditions, but none of the important ones. We made sure of it."

That it's also true, the Allomancer thought. He had known it since his first mission with their new allies, back when Dragon and he retrieved some white, wooden staff from one of those chambers Herpo the Foul loved so much. So far, many reports corroborated what Hao had just said. Shana and her people were trying to pick up as much information as they could from the very few bits their alliance failed to cover during their expeditions.

"Lord Shawn was last located in Cerdeña, when he and his men hunted down one of Jin's squad," Unicorn added with a sombre voice. "On the other hand, the last information we have about Shana is from her little trip around Eastern Europe, at the end of last year."

"If I didn't know them, I'd say they have already surrendered," Levitt pointed out. "However, I find their lack of initiative rather alarming. There is some information we lack, and it could endanger all the work we've done."

"A hundred points for the smartass," Jin huffed as he raised his cup in the air. It was a cheap provocation, one Levitt wouldn't ever fall for. "The bastard killed twelve of my men. Just like that. There even weren't any bodies to retrieve."

"That is precisely the reason why we are here today," Isaac the First took the word once again. "You don't have to worry about the Horcrux, I and my High Inquisitors will deal with it. However, we need to get rid of Lord Shawn and his group. Otherwise, they won't ever leave us in peace."

There were a few propositions, but everyone shut up when Raven spoke. "Don't worry about it, Master Isaac," the Unspeakable started. "Elend Shawn and his people will die the day we find the Horcrux. That is a promise." Just like that. All the eyes were set on him, and yet, he didn't lose his composure for an instant. "However, I have something to confess. To ensure their deaths, I had to betray you."

The reaction was instantaneous. "Explain yourself," Dragon said with a threatening voice. Both her and Unicorn had drawn their wands, their magical presences all over the place, sending a very clear message to the man.

"I just did it," Raven replied as he leaned back on his comfy chair. "I acted on my own and ignored the chain of command. Moreover, I met with Elend Shawn, at the American Ministry, to promise him that I would give him the location of the Horcrux as soon as we find it."

For a few seconds no one talked. Jin the Stranger softly dropped his cup on the table, sending a very impressed look to the Unspeakable. To be honest, Levitt shared his opinion. What the fuck has just happen? It doesn't make any freaking sense. Fortunately, Isaac the First didn't lose control of the situation. "May I know the reason behind your actions?" He asked with a calm voice.

"Of course," Raven nodded, the feathers of his mask flapping with the sudden motion. "For more than a year, even before the Incident of Dakovo happened, how to get rid of Elend Shawn and his group has been what really kept you awake every night. Let me ask you all a question: do you really think those bastards will surrender just because the Horcrux happens to be in our possession?" No one replied. "That's what I thought," he continued. "We need to kill them all if we want to end this venture for good; if we want to make our dreams and ambitions come true."

"I see," Jin the Stranger let out a loud guffaw. "I never thought I'd say this, but man, you got balls for a weak, little crow. I support his idea."

"What are you even talking about?" Dragon cut in. She looked about to lose her patience.

"We are gonna bait them," Raven stated. "They'll know it is a cheap trap, of course. Just as they'll know it is their only chance to put their hands on the Horcrux. It will be an all-out battle. Maybe, some of those present here will die. However, it is the best chance to finally bury them."

"Why should we trust you?" Unicorn asked, his wand still present on his hand. "For all we know, this could be a plan of yours to help them. You've never been in a fight with us, coward. You just stood aside while we got our hands dirty, just to make an entrance as soon as the rewards were to be collected. Just tell me one reason why we should trust you."

"I can't give you a reason, at least, not one you will believe," Raven replied. "You've never liked me, Inquisitor. I understand it is your role as a protector to have such behaviour, but do not mistake things here, I have never responded to you nor I ever will."

The atmosphere was really tense, both of the High Inquisitors glaring daggers at the Unspeakable. This is about to get messy here. However, the situation didn't get worse.

"Be at ease, my old friend," Isaac the First said as he rose from his seat, placing a hand on Unicorn's shoulder. "Be at ease." He turned to look at Raven. "What you did was an act of treason, and you'll be punished for it—the chain of command needs to be respected. That being said, I know you wouldn't betray us. Not when the Horcrux is at our finger's reach… not when that dream of yours is about to become a reality."

The Unspeakable subtly tensed in his chair. "I know it, Master Isaac," he said. "All I did was for a greater good; for our greater good. Despite that, you have all the reason in this world to punish me, and I will accept it. However, for those who still doubt my loyalty, I assure you that I will do everything in my hand to get the Horcrux. Everything." He paused for a moment to stare back at Unicorn. "Elend Shawn is the greatest barrier between me and my dream. If I need to sentence your lives to archive it, I will do it without a second thought."

How dramatic. "We get it, punk," Jin the Stranger snorted as soon as the speech ended. "Your dedication is pretty cute. But whatever, I like your plan. Is it dangerous? Hell yeah. Are those kinds of plans my favourite? Trust me, you can't imagine how much they turn me on." He also stood up to look at everyone. "I'm with him. Those bastards have already given us too much trouble. Let's end them for good."

Aura the Fourth raised an inquiring brow at Master Isaac. "What it is done, done is," the old man sentenced. "We cannot change what Raved did, and so, we will benefit as much as we can from his actions. It was a decision which he should not have taken without consulting us first, however, he acted on his own, and because of that, our fate was sealed. If a final confrontation is what destiny has in store for us, so be it."

Captain Jordan, and subsequently Levitt, also stood up. "My company is yours to command, Isaac the First," the blond man said with a nod of his head. "If you want us there, so it will be."

Now that everyone had gotten up, they all formed a circle around the large table. Some, like Jin, were smirking at the possibility of an incredible battle. Others, like Aura the Fourth, remained impassible. And Levitt… All he wanted was for everything to end for a damned time. Many of the guys will die. Unfortunately, that was guaranteed. The soldiers, and his friends, from the Wings of Liberty excelled in many fields, however, a battle against the likes of the Shawn brothers was a whole different level.

It was pretty easy to make the decision. I'll protect as many as I can. Levitt always did so. It was his role. If not, why had he survived so many battles? He was cursed to survive. Because of that, he would save as many friends as he could.

After all, he was a survivor.

---

Ronald Weasley POV

Thursday 24th March 1993 (Hogwarts) - Early morning

There was a foul taste in his mouth. Was it blood? It certainly reminded him of the metallic flavour, but that couldn't be true… or so he hoped. Ron walked through a very narrow and dark passage, just like he had done for the last five times. His whole body contacted the damped walls with each step… Because he was walking, right? It was strange, but he couldn't feel his legs nor his arms.

I'm so happy. That was another detail he was missing, but the redhead certainly felt good… No worries, no fear… There, he was the king of the darkness. The familiar source of light appeared in front of him. When his eyes grew used to the blinding brightness, he instantly turned around to look at the mighty statue behind him—those dead eyes stared back at him, just as they always did. "Father?" The words left his mouth before he realised it.

What the hell was he talking about?

With a sudden noise that scared the hell out of him, the Alarm Charm woke him up. "Great, another bloody nightmare," Ron cursed under his breath.

On the one hand, he knew that having strange nightmares with frequency had never been a good omen in the Wizarding World. On the other hand, he was well damn used to strange things happening to him. In fact, the last time weird dreams were a recurrence in his life, the redhead met Gerd. Maybe this time it is one of her friends who wants to meet me, who knows? He really doubted that, but if there was something the twins taught him was that it was always better to laugh at the problems rather than crying about it.

In no time at all, he got dressed and made his way towards the Great Hall. Today was a rough day of classes, one he wasn't prepared for. At least, the Easter holidays were around the corner, and with them, more things to worry about—after all, it was time to choose the elective subjects which would accompany him for the rest of his Hogwarts' years. A silly decision, indeed.

That morning, Ron really tried to focus on the classes, but it didn't matter how hard he tried, his mind always went back to that tall statue which had haunted his dreams for the past weeks. His doubts needed to be answered, and for that, the redhead knew who was the perfect person to help him. 'Yo, good afternoon,' he wrote in the black diary. 'Do you remember that nightmare I told you about a few days ago? The one in which I felt weird and ended up in some ancient chamber.'

'Of course I remember!' Riddle replied. 'Actually, I've been thinking quite a bit about it…'

"Oh, yeah? What do you make of it? Because I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm starting to really worry about these bloody dreams.'

'I think they might be related to that dead woman you talked to me about.'

What the hell? The part about those dreams being a way for him to meet others like Gerd was supposed to be a joke… because it couldn't be otherwise. 'Please, explain yourself,' Ron almost begged. If there was someone who could help him to decipher the meaning of those nightmares, that was Riddle and his vast knowledge. 'Why would you say that? I mean, you don't even know Gerd. She wouldn't ever hurt me in any way. She is my best friend."

'Has this ever happened to you before?'

As soon as those words appeared on the yellowish paper, his quill froze midair. He really wanted to deny those accusations, but he couldn't. The moment Ron realised it, a cold sweat started to cover his forehead. 'Why do you ask that?' He didn't lie, but neither did he confirm Riddle's theory.

'There are countless things I don't know about magic, and I never will. However, I once found a very ancient book about very advanced magic; it talked about the darkest arts, Ronald. That tome had information about some kind of ritual the magical people from the Ancient Times used to perform—like some kind of pact with Magic itself. It allowed them to extend their life after their bodies faltered, if it even could be considered as such.'

Gerd certainly was a witch from the Ancient Times. Wait a moment… Ron was about to protest, but his voice didn't come out, not as a lump started to form in his throat.

'Now, I'm not saying that your friend is some kind of evil witch; as you said, I don't know her, so I can't judge that woman,' Riddle continued, completely unaware of the redhead's state. 'That being said, I implore you to hear what I need to say. It is for your wellbeing, Ronald—like everything I do. Your friend Gerd might be a good person, but haven't you asked yourself why she befriended you in the first place? Please, think about it. The answers you seek might be there.'

That was an easy question to answer: Gerd had befriended him because they needed to save the world! Though, is that the only reason behind her actions? Ron couldn't silence that damned voice in his mind—how could he when it was asking the same questions he's wondered about so many times?

Gerd failed to save the world more than two millennia ago. All her efforts could only buy her all those years, just to meet him, a common boy from a humble family, so they could fight against the heir of her mortal enemy… Why? Since he met the Essentia, she had been the one to call all the shots in their mission—but that was due to her being way more experienced, right?

'We have a common interest," that was his reply to the unanswered question.

'I see,' Riddle wrote back. 'Then, say, was there any moment during that search of your common interest in which you wanted to make a choice she didn't? What happened in those situations? Did you ever think one of her plans was such a bad idea that you refused to proceed with it, and yet, you ended up doing it either way? I don't want to use the word manipulation, but yeah, that's what I mean.'

That also was a very easy question to answer: Gerd took the wheel every single time. She had been the one to oppose his idea of asking Dumbledore for help; even if he later understood the reason behind it. She had been the one to trap Peter and to make his presence known to the world; even if their failure could endanger Ron's family. She had been the one to tell him what kind of magic to practice and the way to do it. She had been the one to distance herself from him as soon as other matters started to swarm her head…

Ron had always trusted her with all his fears and worries. Had Gerd ever done that?

No, she hadn't, he thought with a bitter taste in his mouth. Gerd must have her reasons, I'm sure she will come around… eventually, another part of him reasoned.

Then, there was that other thing Riddle had just mentioned, the word manipulation… There had been times in which Ron didn't want to do something or times when he felt too scared to act. In all of them a sudden fire within him had appeared—a sudden source of courage that allowed him to move forward. In all of those situations, Gerd had been present. Could it be? No, snap out of it, you bloody moron. Riddle is just worrying about your wellbeing, but he doesn't know anything about Gerd… She would never…

He was pulled out of his thoughts as soon as new letters appeared in the diary. 'Listen, Ronald, I don't want to pry into your relationship with her, but if I were you, I'd ask her about it. A direct confrontation in which both of you look at the other eye to eye. You might share a common objective, but she's a woman who still wanders in the realm of the living because she has something to do before finally passing away. Intelligent people always have a second intention behind their actions… If you need my help, you can take the diary with you… If I detect a lie in her answers, I'll tell you about it. That's what friends are for, right?'

Yeah, that's what friends were for… Ron took a decision at that moment. 'This sunday you'll see,' he wrote. 'Gerd is a woman who has suffered more than anyone, and she must have her reasons to act the way she's been doing recently. But I think you are right on one thing: I need to question her about it. If not, how would I ever know if there is something she needs help with? You'll finally meet her, and you'll see with your own eyes how incredible she is!'

'Trust me, nothing would make me happier than you being right,' Riddle replied. He sounded honest, and that helped the redhead to relax a bit. 'If she's your friend, then she's also mine. Back when I was alive, I wasn't the best at talking with others. I think this whole thing about being a diary kind of helped me to overcome that shyness of mine—you know, since I can't precisely talk with others now… Okay, that was a very poor joke, but I wanted to relieve some of your tension. Anyhow, what I want to say is that I've never been too good at anything which had to do with another human being, and because of that, I felt this need to help you… Because you've actually been the first person to ever hear my problems and demons… It is like some kind of debt I feel the need to repay, and don't tell me to sod off because I won't. You helped me, I'll help you.'

Ron totally understood that feeling. He might have not been as introverted as Riddle was, but never in his life he thought about telling to another person all those doubts and problems which ate his mind on a daily basis—until she met Gerd, that's it. 'Don't worry, I know you mean well,' the boy wrote as the hint of a smile formed on his face. 'I really hope the two of us can help Gerd to get back to her usual self, then the three of us could act together to hunt the Heir before he can hurt more people.'

'Yeah, everything will turn out alright. I'm sure of it.'

---

Sunday afternoon came, and with it the only day in the week in which Gerd ignored all her problems to hang out with him—if a tough session of training could be called that, of course. But duty always came before everything, or so it was said.

"You aren't as focused as you used to be," Gerd pointed out from atop of the tree she stood, a few metres above from where the redhead was sitting.

Well, that's an understatement. The truth was Ron had been fidgeting with his wand since the session began. He was supposed to focus and feel the magic around him, but how on earth could he do that when dozens of questions swarmed his mind? Man up! Charlie of Bill would have asked Gerd about it the moment they saw her.

Still, the words didn't come out of his mouth. Gerd wouldn't ever manipulate him, right? They were friends.

"You can tell me if there is something troubling you," the Essentia sighed as she descended until their heads were at the same height. "There is no point in this activity if you can't focus enough. Is it about the Heir? Or is the fight you had with Hermione still lingering in your head?"

Well, nice of you to remind me of some problems I had forgotten, but it ain't about that. Ron shook his head as he got up from the ground. "I'm fine," he lied. "I had a weird dream tonight and I woke up in the middle of the night."

"A weird dream?" Gerd asked.

Ron ignored her question and pointed his wand at one tall tree, his favourite to practice spells with. "Diffindo," he chanted with a bit of rage. Why am I doubting? The spell flew towards the thick truck, which already was greatly chipped by hundreds of past tries. This time, the Severing Charm managed to peel off many chunks of bark with ease, creating a new and far deeper cut on its surface.

The Essentia raised a brow at him. "Okay, you can speak whatever language you want, but in none of them that's an 'I'm fine'," she pointed out. "I thought we were past the point of hiding things to each other."

Ask it. Ask it. Ask it, the voice told him. Ask it. Ask it… "Are we?" Ron replied as he looked at her eyes for the first time since the session began.

Gerd just stared back at him, however, her eyes showed a flash of weakness for an instant. She was surprised. It's now or never, the voice told him. Ron didn't allow the Essentia any moment to recompose herself. "For these past months, you've been acting way more weirdly than ever. Every damn time I tried to approach you, the only answer I got was a lie and some soothing words! Tell me, don't you trust me enough to tell me about your problems? Are we really past that point, Gerd? Or it is only when I'm the one with problems?"

The voice in his head got silenced, but it didn't feel happy. "Come on, tell me!" Ron went on, his calm facade long gone. "Or are you gonna tell me that everything is fine and fly away like you always do?"

For more than ten seconds, neither of the two spoke. Their eyes did the talking. "I do trust you, Ron," Gerd finally said. She sounded tired, but was it real? Or was it just another of her tricks to feign weakness before sending him off? "However, my situation it's complicated," the Essentia went on. "It is true that I've been lying to you for these past months. I did not have any problems remembering my past life. All the time I have spent in solitude was to think about everything—the past, the present, and the future."

"You make it look simple, yet, you didn't hesitate to tell me lie after lie," Ron accused. "Say, what's with all that secrecy? Am I not trustworthy enough? Or is it that I'm not intelligent enough to understand your plans? After all, it is you who call the shots every bloody time something happens."

"I didn't tell you about it because of a very simple reason," Gerd explained. She was perfectly calm, and not even his cold accusations could dent her steady voice. "There are certain matters one must deal with in solitude. I recovered my memories long ago, and with them also came the people from my past; those who I loved, respected and feared. Every one of them. Then, I started to suspect. If I had been able to be reborn, there was a little chance of them being in the same state as I am. Because of that, I have been trying to locate them, if it is even possible."

That was a scenario the two of them had talked before, however, the redhead never gave much importance to it. The possibility of other beings like Gerd lingering around was unfathomable. She was special. There couldn't be anyone like her. Still, if Gerd thought for it to be a possible scenario, he understood the need of hers to deal with it by herself. After all, would he ever let anyone meddle within his family's problems?

Ron let out a tired sigh and softened his stare.

It was at that moment when the voice in his mind returned. This time, he recognized it as the diary in his robes' pocket started to vibrate. She's lying, his voice practically screamed, yet, it sounded so calm. Look at her eyes and ask the question, Ronald. I'm by your side, no one will ever hurt you as long as that happens. Ask it. Ask it. Ask it.

Ron did it. "Gerd…" the boy started. He felt nervous and scared, but at the same time, he felt nothing but a dead calm. Was that even possible? Everything is possible if the two of us work together, Ronald. We are powerful. Don't ever forget it. He raised his blue eyes to meet her inquiring gaze. This time, not even Gerd would be able to lie to him. "Have you ever manipulated me? Don't you dare to lie."

Gerd remained silent, but he didn't. "I've felt it, you know?" Ron continued. The words poured from his mouth with ease, and he wasn't going to stop the flow; not when the truth was in front of him. "Those times in which I was so scared to do something that I could barely move, and then, with just a bunch of silly words, you managed to fire me up… When it happened, it felt so good… I now realise how stupid I was to not notice it sooner… Pride has always been one of my flaws, right?

He took a moment to relieve those memories, which came to his mind in a flash. How stupid had he been? It was so obvious. "I felt so good believing that it was me the one to step forward and face all those dangers and evils… That it was me, the bravest of the Weasleys, to fight against the darkness and those who wanted to hurt innocent people… I was so proud of that courageous boy. I felt so important and good… But it was a lie all along, wasn't it? One of your tricks to make me do what you wanted me to do."

No words came out of the Essentia's mouth. In fact, her facial gestures didn't change a bit. Gerd stood as cold as ice itself. What are you doing, Gerd? Tell me that I'm wrong! There it was again; the foolish part of him who still thought that the boy who once had been ready to face He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was brave enough to do it by himself.

You are brave, Ronald, Riddle's voice dwarfed it. But you are also intelligent, and you know she is lying. This is the time to prove your courage, for there is nothing harder than to admit one's flaws in order to become better. To become stronger.

"You are mistaken, Ron," Gerd finally said. "Although it greatly pains me to hear how low you think of me, I am aware of all the stress you have been put under for these past months. No, since the moment we met, when you realised the impossible mission we got ahead of us. Because of that, I will not blame you. I have also made far greater mistakes under less extreme circumstances."

There hadn't been any denial in those words. That was what hurt him the most.

"Your words are full of contradictions, Gerd. Like they've always been," Ron coldly said. "Back when we first met, you told me that you barely could perform the simplest of the spells in your current state, yet, you were able to repel He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself when his shadow attacked me. Yet, you transformed into an eagle to hunt down Pettigrew. What would stop you from using Magical Transmutation to manipulate my emotions? I might not be the best student, but as you can see, I remember all the things you've taught me."

"Once again, you think so low of yourself," Gerd sighed. "That is your real and greatest flaw, Ron, not that crap about pride you just talked about. It was you who stepped up in those situations. It was you who helped your friends in each one of those extreme moments. I had nothing to do with it. Whoever talked all that crap into your ear, he's the one lying."

"You can tell when people lie most of the time, they look and sound as if they were trying to be another person," Ron quoted. "You said this to me once, Gerd. I'm a slow learner, and I might need some tough blows to drill some lessons into my mind. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me… I've been fooled more than twice, but there won't be any more."

Gerd remained impassable. She hadn't denied any of his accusations, nor did she look about to do it. They held their gazes for some seconds—each second he stared at her ethereal eyes, the redhead felt more betrayed. She did it. She did it. Riddle had been right all along.

He felt angry at himself, but much to his surprise, that was it. His eyes had no intentions to shed a single tear. Traitors didn't deserve such importance—much less those who betrayed their friends.

"First, I will stop the Heir and save the school," Ron announced to her former friend. "Then, I will try my best to protect my family from the dark future that looms over us. You've been my best friend for these past years, Gerd. It pains me to do this. Hell, it pains me so much… But it is necessary. I can't trust you anymore. Not when my family's lives are on the line. I still think you are a good person, but your objectives are very different from mine, and I know you won't ever falter to fulfil them. I need to put my people over everything, and you won't allow me to do it."

Gerd floated above him, her cold eyes still fixated on his. "I'm sorry, but this is goodbye," Ron said. This time, his voice trembled a little.

As he walked away from the clear, no one tried to stop him.

---

Well, as you could see, this was quite the spicy ending. Not gonna lie, this part was hard to write in terms of writing per se, one of the toughest in the whole story, but I'm quite happy with the result.

See you next time!