In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 51: Friendship
A train had broken down, and Ron had to wait in Betchworth for an hour until a replacement arrived, another fifteen minutes until the passengers had changed and the replacement was underway. Several stops more, and a bit after midnight, he recognized the station, Noigate, and he muttered as he realized it.
"Duh!" Ron muttered. He had Harry's Portkey, back in his school bag, back in London, which would've been faster.
Ron flew above the row of houses, chimney after chimney, however, the soot begins to irritate his lungs. Ron landed, carried his Firebolt, as he ran the last couple of houses, to the burnt husk, a shell of what it once was.
"Get away," said a man, a firefighter.
Ron backed away, glanced around at the neighbor's. He snuck behind the truck, swung his leg, and breathed in the smoke to fly up to that neighbor's roof. He stood on the peak and surveyed the damage.
Hermione's roof was no more, a bit of the brick of the exterior wall defied expectations and remained standing, charred timber within, as flat as it could be, and still smoldering—destroyed as the article showed with burnt shells of cars by the road and the hot tub laid to waste. Ron's eyes caught a glint of a faint glow, red from flame, that also had a star shimmered on the reflection; something that he couldn't quite make out but felt familiar. Ron pointed his wand, and it flew up toward the hand. Ron caught the object—a ring, the silver ring he gave Hermione, her ring, and he stared at it for minutes.
"Painful, fledgling," the sorting hat said to Ron, "And sad, but do not let it stop you."
"Yeah," Ron muttered as he pocketed the ring.
Another glint, Ron summoned it, recognized the Hogwarts Pin, his Portkey, useless as he was under suspension.
"Fire didn't destroy everything," Ron muttered.
"A phoenix is reborn in fire," the hat replied.
"True," Ron said.
Ron went down the roof, toward the back, jumped a few feet down onto an awning with his Firebolt in his other hand. He crouched and went several feet down to the tall fence, and jumped again. He hopped and walked on the burnt and singed grass, came to below where Hermione's bedroom used to be. He spotted it, in the middle of the coals, being rained upon by the firefighters, a box he recognized, a trunk, Hermione's trunk. A run and a jump, Ron landed on a timber, shook, before he had to jump back to avoid falling through the burning timbers.
Ron drew his wand, levitated the trunk, and it floated to him as he made for the road.
"What the—" the firefighter exclaimed, his eyes turned to Ron. "You!"
"Obliviate!" Ron exclaimed.
The firefighter's eyes twitched at the same time Ron felt a hand clamp his shoulder.
"Excuse me Mr. Weasley."
Ron spun around to see a wizard sporting a jacket of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Magic performed outside of school and magic performed in the presence of a Muggle," the wizard said as he jotted on a pad of parchment, "Flying a broom in the presence of a Muggle, and an unauthorized memory charm performed on the Muggle—these are pretty serious—"
"Hermione!" Ron protested as he pointed at the wrecked house.
"If we continue performing magic in front of Muggles then we continue to risk the exposure of our world," the wizard said, "And memory charms are a dangerous spell to be performed by an untrained student. Do you now understand the seriousness of this situation?"
"Yes," Ron stated.
"This is a serious matter," the wizard said, "I cannot sweep the entire matter under a flying carpet. However, I do have sympathy for your loss and understand the motivation in performing said magic, and cut you a break to a general misuse of magic. Statutory penalty is five Galleons if paid within three weeks, and you can petition for this citation to be expunged from your record in three years provided no further infractions occur. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," Ron said.
"Any further misuse will not be taken lightly," the wizard said as he handed over the slip of parchment.
Ron took the parchment.
"I suggest you remove yourself from this area before temptation strikes again," the wizard said.
Ron set his Firebolt on top of the trunk, tried to carry it. He wondered how many books Hermione had stored in it.
"And you didn't see this," the wizard said as he transfigured a pair of wheels onto the base of the trunk.
Ron lifted from the other end, pulled the trunk along the road into the wee early hours of the morning, wondered where best to go. A few minutes later, he realized he was walking out of habit, went into an unlit footpath, and charmed the trunk small enough to let it slip into his pocket. He came to 26 Oak St, and the front green door was locked. Ron felt exhausted and the bushes didn't object as he collapsed into a slumber.
…
Ron woke hours later, to a bit of the sun bearing down on him, and his foot getting tapped.
"Ron?!"
Ron opened his eyes, Richard stood overhead, Jen next to her.
"Any news on Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Oh," Richard said, "They searched the house—while it was on fire, who we think are her parents didn't make it. As to Hermione, I don't know."
"Is Harry here?" Ron asked as he stood, "Or Gia?"
"What?" Richard said, "You don't know where they are? Sorry, but Mum has to be told."
"Mind if I come in?" Ron asked.
"I can get to the store myself," Jen said, "Be back in a bit."
Jen kissed Richard, left.
"So, nothing on Gia?" Richard asked.
"No," Ron said as they entered the house.
"She can't be found," Richard said, "Mum's listed her missing yesterday."
"Lets check upstairs," Ron said.
"Mind you," Richard said as they climbed the steps, "Mum's really cranky at the moment, with murders and—"
"Murders?" Ron asked as the stopped on the top landing,.
"Hermione's folks," Richard said, "Or, as I should properly state, the folks that we suspect are her parents, the remains haven't been properly identified, fortunately, they've got good dental records to go on."
"Not funny," Ron said.
"It was unusually intense," Richard said, "It'll take some sorting to really confirm anything."
Hoot!
"Harry," Ron said, "Like me and Hermione, were suspended on Wednesday, but he needed medical attention."
"When doesn't he?" Richard asked.
Ron snorted.
"Our Headmaster presumed he'd either visit me or Hermione—the normal," Ron said, "Neither know about the engagement, and Harry wants to keep it that way."
"Best keep them away from the Daily Telegraph then," Richard said, "Wednesday's to be exact. Mum couldn't resist putting in a notice."
Hoot!
"Easiest way to find him is to write," Ron said as he entered the bedroom. Ron grabbed a quill and parchment. "Pretty easy, first write the letter."
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry
They're looking for you, what's up?
Ron
"And, fold it into a little envelope," Ron said, as he demonstrated, folding it up. "Address it—only need the name, most of the time. Hedwig, here knows it's for Harry and can find him." Ron wrote on the outside. "And tie it to their leg."
Ron tied the letter, attached it to Hedwig's leg.
"Deliver it, girl!" Ron said to Hedwig.
Hedwig glared.
"Normally she'd take off," Ron said.
"Seems like she's not happy," Richard said.
Ron found an owl treat on the shelf below, handed it to Hedwig. She hooted.
"Now?" Ron asked the bird.
Hedwig shook the parchment off. Ron began to turn, when he spotted it, a crumpled wad of parchment. He reached down, pulled it back open, and recognized the loopy handwriting.
"His suspension notice," Ron said, "When was the last time anybody saw Gia, for certain?"
"We walked home Wednesday," Richard said, "Thought she went in early on Thursday—"
"Did you see her?" Ron asked.
"No," Richard said, "What's this all about?"
Ron checked the printout on the top of Harry's trunk, which mentioned a winter snow, summer fun, small resort.
"We didn't go for that for skiing," Richard said, "Too small, too exotic, to consider for an alibis when it had privacy guaranteed written all over it."
"Tell nobody—I'll destroy this," Ron said as he waved printout, "I don't want to know where it is."
"What's going on?" Richard asked.
Ron sighed, slid down the wall, onto the floor, as he concentrated.
"You've got the pieces," the hat whispered to him.
"It's bloody obvious," Ron said, realizing what Harry had most likely done, to know that following would be disastrous to Harry's design. Ron also knew that nobody will listen to him, press forward into the biggest blunder they could ever make. Ron simply had to trust Harry, that Harry knew the right medicine, that Harry was working it through with her, using their passion to contain Voldemort's mental attacks. "Like I said, tell nobody about this, if you value them, tell nobody about this. Keep up the ruse they're missing. Can I trust you to hold this promise?"
"Alright," Richard said.
"When he does show, use Hedwig to send me a note," Ron said, "Anything about Hermione too."
"Will do," Richard said.
Ron grabbed the suspension letter, went down the stairs, into the living room. He tossed both it and the printout into the fireplace, his wand lit them on fire, watched them both burn. Ron turned, left the house. Took him a moment to remember the charm, expanded his pocket and stuffed his Firebolt into it.
"Don't need another misuse citation for flying in broad daylight," Ron said as he went for the station. He couldn't stop thinking about Hermione, how she must've suffered.
Hermione sat in the car, in the front, as Aunt Cindy drove her into Noigate that afternoon, back to the familiar road. They came along to the gathering of the firetrucks.
"We'll get back to Uncle Jarod in a short while," Aunt Cindy said, "It's grim, but it's important."
They got out, walked in to the edge of the black soup among the shell of the house, her house, gone.
"Excuse me, it's—oh, it's you," said Kristen, as she stood there.
"We try to hide from it," Aunt Cindy said, "Your life's now defined by this, I'm sorry dear."
"Happy to see you, Hermione," Kristen said, "We thought…you might've simply been missed in the search."
"Wasn't here," Hermione said, "Want to see if anything's…salvageable. I'll step carefully."
Hermione walked around, gripped her wand to see if it'd find anything. She peered over the wall at several places, nothing but cinders and ash in the watery pond that was all that remained. She came back, shook her head.
"Wouldn't expect so," Kristen said, "We'll be searching more carefully once the water's gone. Let you know if we find anything of interest, as I've apparently got no plans to go home anytime soon."
"Thank you," Hermione said.
Hermione got into the car, and they drove. They came to a brick house next to the large church, stopped.
"Uncle Jarod said we'll meet here," Aunt Cindy said, "Haven't been here since the wedding—your parents, I meant."
They got out, entered. A man in a black suit with a priest collar, shook hands.
"Welcome, welcome," the man said, "In case you've forgotten, I'm Father Dowling, welcome to my home. Wish it was under better circumstances."
Uncle Jarod was already on the small dark sofa. Mark glared as he paced. Trenise, sat on a chair, tapped her cast on the hardwood floor.
"Hermione!" came the cheer. She turned, spotted the other woman.
"Aunt Cheryl," Hermione said.
"You're all here," Father Dowling said, "Let's first remember the fallen, Linda and Charles Granger. Oh father, please accept them into your arms. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, let them have peace. Amen."
"Saved you a nightmare," Aunt Cheryl said to Hermione, "I was already coming over—after they, well, unimportant. I thought nothing of the sirens until I saw the house on fire. Men went in…sorry, badly burned, but I know my own sister." Aunt Cheryl wept, brought the handkerchief to her eyes.
"Cindy," Uncle Jarod said, "Got us a room at the inn."
Hermione sat, still felt a bit surreal, she wanted her parents gone, and now they were. She felt guilty for thinking of it as a blessing in disguise. Maybe she needed Harry around, definitely not Ron.
Images of Hermione roasting over an open fire drifted through Ron's nightmare before he woke up as the train made it to Waterloo. Ron walked off the train, and grabbed a copy of the Daily Telegraph before he left the station; dark outside as the evening had already set in.
"Change?" asked a man on the sidewalk.
Ron ignored the man, opened the Daily Telegraph to come to a picture of Hermione's house in flames above an article.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Noigate Loses Respected Dentists
Noigate lost two well respected residents Saturday in a devastating fire at their residence. Police said that Linda and Charles Granger perished in the fire based upon tentative confirmation provided by family members, however, positive identification will be done with dental records later this week. Fate or whereabouts about their daughter, Hermione Granger, remain unknown at the time of publication. Fire crews are searching the ashen debris for clues and any other victims.
Ron walked along, two owls greeted him as he walked along Blackfoot Yard. Ron stopped, opened the first, addressed to him without a return, with his name clipped out of a paper as were the letters.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Tell that mudblood orphan that a toll has been exacted for your misdeeds.
"Damn," Ron muttered as moved to the second.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
The Minister has a weekly press conference open to all. Enclosed is a pass for yourself, don't be late.
Percy.
"Tickets to the Chudley Cannons would've been better," Ron muttered as he took the enclosed ticket, put it back in, and stuffed the letter into his pocket.
"Coming in?" asked Ginny from the door of number four and one third.
Ron made the short gaunt, entered the house.
"It's about time," Fred said, offered a piece of fried chicken.
"Sorry," Ron replied, "I'm not in the mood—"
"Mr. Weasley."
Ron turned, Professor Dumbledore was on the easy chair next to the fireplace.
"Any news on Hermione?" Ron asked.
"I was hoping for information regarding the whereabouts of Mr. Potter," Professor Dumbledore said.
Ron felt the probing from those blue twinkling eyes, digging for more. Ron brought the memory of the house on flames to the forefront.
"Sorry, haven't seen him," Ron replied, "But Hermione's house—gone."
"That's being looked into," Professor Dumbledore said, "In the meanwhile, not knowing the location of Mr. Potter is troublesome—"
"What about Hermione?!" Ron demanded, "Do you not even care about her?"
Ron sensed the desire to shuffle demands, to force him to prioritize one friend over the other.
"Mr. Weasley, while I am definitely disturbed by the prospect of losing such a fine witch," Professor Dumbledore said, "My first priority is the fight against Mr. Riddle. Therefore I must be concerned with the welfare of Mr. Harry Potter as he was in our custody when he vanished."
"I don't see it in the pages of the Daily Prophet so I'm not worried," Ron stated as he made for the stairs.
"I thought your friendship with him meant more than that," Professor Dumbledore said as Ron climbed the first few steps.
"Until you produce Hermione," Ron said, "There is nothing further to talk about."
Ron climbed the stairs, the hat seemed to tap in, raised his alertness, instilled a sense of fear. Ron's wand was out as he entered the bedroom, when a dark figure by the desk became Sirius.
"Where is my godson?" Sirius demanded.
Ron peered into those dark eyes, eyes that didn't fight, ones that clearly hinted at the fear that the Headmaster had instilled, to motivate Sirius to join in the inquisition.
"Why don't you ask Snape?!" Ron snapped.
Sirius grabbed Ron's shirt collar.
"If anything—" Sirius growled, "And I mean it, if anything happens to him, you won't see me coming when I repay it in kind."
Ron felt his magic surge.
Boom!
Ron watched as Sirius flew backward out of the window. A charm to the repair the window, another to close the door, and Ron sat down at the desk. He got out a quill and journal.
"I'd make a good secret keeper," Ron said to himself in the mirror.
"Loyalty to friends is a tricky thing," the hat said.
"Not you too—" Ron snapped.
"I know your mind," the hat stated as Ron started to write.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
15th of December 1996, Sunday
Hermione! Hermione! I found her ring—I so want another explanation, but she wore that ring continuously.
Meanwhile two baboons were more concerned with Harry than Hermione's demise! I mean, Dingy–Bat—he couldn't care less! And that mutt—I'm going to have to watch it as he's not—I don't know if it was Azkaban that did that to him. Hope Dad can escape that fate.
I could tell them what I do know, have they tried to find his Firebolt? They're right, being wandless could spell trouble, but I reckon he needs the holiday even more. He'll owe me as I doubt they'll let this matter rest.
Albus Dumbledore watched as the black Snuffles came in through the back garden door an hour later, transformed into Sirius Black.
"I take it by the method of your return that your luck was…minimal?" Albus Dumbledore asked.
Sirius shook his head.
"I don't get Ronald on this," Albus Dumbledore said, "I do need to come up with an excuse why his committee is unable to see him."
"What do you plan to do?" Sirius asked.
"In the meanwhile," Albus Dumbledore said, "Do as he suggests, find Miss. Granger."
"Abandon Harry?" Sirius protested.
"Nothing of the sort," Albus Dumbledore said, "Ronald made his position clear. And as she is also a friend of Harry's, and Ronald feels her predicament is more dire, maybe that will lead us to Harry. All three are a threat to Mr. Riddle's designs, so I have to remind myself to worry about the lot of them."