Fate

by TheTrueSpartan

When Ron discovers that he can see the future, his entire fate is thrown off of its course. A story about adventure, friendship, growing up, and pushing forward through hardships. This story will get darker as it progresses, just like the original Harry Potter novels. It will cover all Seven Years of Hogwarts, but mostly from Ron's perspective. No Mary Sues, no Character bashing.

134. Chapter 134 - A Spider's Web

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 134 is finally here, after the longest break I've ever taken. I was dealing with life, and losing lmao, but I'm feeling better these days, so here you are.

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.

I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.

There's also another Ron story out that's really good so far! It's called 'There and Back Again', and it's written by Chuchi Otaku. Please, go check it out! I've certainly enjoyed reading it!

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Fate

Chapter 134 – A Spider's Web

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (Travers Manor – Afternoon)

"Lord Weasley?" Godrey bowed deeply, greeting Ron just as he pocketed his Portkey. I know him; he tended to me after… Did I ever thank him? Most of my last visit here feels like a blur. I should thank him, now, regardless.

"I'm no Lord," Ron started. "Godrey, right?"

"Master Weasley remembers Godrey?" the old Elf asked, not showing any hint of emotion. "Fascinating. What else does Master Weasley remember from his last visit?" Huh? Never heard an Elf sound so… inquisitive… before.

"Just 'Ron' will do, mate. I'm not your Master," Ron said, earning a curious look from Godrey. "Anyway… I wanted to thank you for putting me back together, and I'm sorry if I frightened you… I didn't mean to, but I was under a lot of stress at the time." A lot of stress? Ha…

The Elf showed no signs of it, but Ron had trained his memory to be nothing short of brilliant. He ran away screaming, I do remember that part very clearly.

"Godrey accepts… Ron's… words," the Elf nearly twitched this time around, struggling to break his habits. "However, Godrey must regretfully inform Ron that Mistress is not here. Mistress is… indisposed." What?

"Indisposed?" Ron asked. "What does that mean? She's not hurt, is she?"

Godrey straightened up, despite his ancient age. "Godrey will not attempt to deceive one such as Ron, as Ron has the power to deceive Death itself-"

"Stop stalling, I'm not in the mood," Ron frowned, he was already short on time. Johan Abadie, why do I get the feeling that you're involved in this?

"Mistress was poisoned," Godrey croaked, shame flickering across his face for a heartbeat. Poisoned? "Mistress bested the poison, of course, however… Mistress has been left weak and vulnerable. Mistress was even removed from Godrey's care." How did this happen?

The words echoed in Ron's head, filling him with dread and unease. He didn't want to lose Emilia; she was just about the only friend he had left. She was poisoned, and I didn't even know? Fuck!

"Start explaining, now," Ron closed the distance, his gaze intense. "Who would want to poison her? And where is she?"

"The Aurors are investigating, but as of now; there are too many suspects," Godrey replied, taking a step back. "Control your emotions, young Master, my Mistress has little patience for fools."

Ron drew is a calming breath, keeping his eyes fixed on the Elf. Why is he here? Shouldn't he be by her side?

"Where is she?" Ron asked again.

"L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur," Godrey replied.

"Hospital?" Ron picked up on one word. "Why aren't you with her? Shouldn't you be attending her?"

"L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur has a strict policy against Elves," Godrey told Ron, surprising the Slytherin. "Elves are ugly creatures, and L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur caters only to the most prominent witches and wizards of this age, most of which consist of Veela, who value beauty and grace above all else. Elves are not permitted upon the premises, as Elves make Veela ill." What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Listening. To?

Ron drew in another calming breath; he didn't have time to go bring down the 'Veela Regime' today. I'll be back, don't you worry about that, Godrey. Let me just clean up my own house, first.

"Emilia isn't a Veela, and she's not exactly a fan either," Ron moved on. "They allow her entry?"

"Mistress is beyond any Veela; she is a Travers!" Godrey's chest puffed up, his old ribcage creaking. Ease up, old man, or, you'll break something you need to function. "None would dare bar us from the finest care in Magical France. The mere thought offends, Godrey must confess." What a pretentious, little shit.

"Yes, I'm certain that you're all better than each other," Ron nearly rolled his eyes, he wasn't even surprised at the Elf's arrogance. They're all the same, and they're the only ones who don't see that.

"Mistress is permitted to return tomorrow, until then, Godrey is afraid that he has nothing else to share with Ron," Godrey said, clearly not sharing everything. "Would Ron like to stay for lunch, Godrey's Elves have prepared a delightful venison stew for the Mistress' army."

"Venison stew?" Ron asked, his stomach nearly calling out for help.

He hadn't eaten since dinner last night; he simply felt no need to waste his time on indulging himself. I need food, though… Mum always emphasised the importance of good food. No, stop it. You have work to do, Emilia's been poisoned! Now's not the time to stuff your mouth, you fucking idiot.

"How do I get to this Veela Hospital?" Ron asked, making up his mind. "I want to see her."

"Godrey would recommend patience, instead," Godrey started. "Shall Godrey prepare a room-?"

"Ron would recommend that, unless Godrey wants to snog his own arsehole, Godrey will answer the damn question," Ron was quick to shut down any argument, mimicking the Elf's speech. "Don't get in my way, that's my friend some cunt put in the hospital. Tell me how to get there, now."

Godrey took a moment to consider Ron's words, and in the end, was wise enough to offer Ron his hand. "Godrey will take Ron there, if that is Ron's wish."

Ron looked to the Elf's wrinkled and bony hand with a hint of apprehension; could Ron afford to Apparate? No, I can't risk it. It's too dangerous with the freeloader running about.

Begrudgingly making peace with his circumstances, for now, Ron decided to adapt. Move forward, you don't have the luxury for outrage anymore. No one is here to make your life easier, be a man.

"Floo," Ron said, making Godrey blink. "We'll use the Floo Network-"

"Godrey is forbidden from entering L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur-"

"Then, just open the Floo for me, I can't say that word yet," Ron said, feeling a bit frustrated. "C'mon, stop wasting our time and get to it. I'm going either way, but if you want, you can accompany me. That is, if you care enough for your Mistress to put up with a few angry glares." Let's see them try to evict him with 'Le fléau de Vélane' accompanying him.

---

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur – Afternoon)

"It's been two hours," Ron grumbled, shifting impatiently in his chair.

"Godrey has already explained-" Godrey started once again.

"I know, I don't want to cause any trouble for her either," Ron was reaching the end of his patience. "But this is just fucking ridiculous. They're taking the piss-"

"Mr. Weasley?" a Medi-Witch suddenly popped into his vision, almost enamouring him with her Veela beauty. "You are now authorised to travel to the third floor, we are terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

"Can I ask what took so long?" Ron asked, standing up. Why do I get the feeling that I'm not wanted here?

"We have protocols," the witch simply replied, her smile picture-perfect. Practised to perfection, I bet. "Lady Travers is a valued guest within these walls-"

"Guest?" Ron blinked, following after her. "She's in a hospital, isn't she? Not that this place looks like any hospital I've ever been to…"

His eyes scanned the waiting room again, passing over the Dragon-Leather sofas, the diamond chandeliers, the colourful art pieces, and the marble columns; this room alone put Greengrass Manor to shame. It's all so… unnecessary. St. Mungo's could teach this place a few lessons, especially in humility.

"Mr. Weasley, L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur caters to the Wizarding World's wealthiest Lords and Ladies," the Veela began, and Ron nearly dozed off on the spot. Here we fucking go… "Our kitchen staff is led by François Leblanc; Magical Paris' very own top chef! Each room is reserved and fitted perfectly for every guest to ensure only the most comfortable experience! Each day is also filled with a variety of fulfilling activities, now including Muggle 'Tennis' and 'Badminton'-!"

"Do you have Healers here? You've failed to mention them," Ron pointed out dully. "Shouldn't a hospital pride itself on that, rather than some ponce chef?"

"Lord Weasley has a healthy sense of practicality, that is all, Madam," Godrey was quick to intervene, just as the Veela shot a not-so-subtle stare back at Ron, all the while maintaining her façade of friendliness.

Ron smiled back, unable to contain his innate cheekiness. This isn't a hospital, it's a hotel. Ha… The rich don't even get sick like we do, it's just another vacation for them.

"If you are concerned for Lady Travers, I can assure you that she has been attended to with the gentlest hands," the Veela promised, stopping in front of a gold-plated elevator shutter. Why does she sound like a salesman? "Now, please take the elevator to the third floor, you will be escorted to Lady Travers' room by another member of the staff."

"Why is this place so empty?" Ron asked, gesturing down the empty hallway.

"Not many can afford our services, and as such, we understand that those who can deserve only the best," the Veela explained, pressing a button to open the shutter gate. "That is what we do here; we mend the body and the soul. We tend to any, and all, of your needs." The Veela then leaned forward, her smile turning slightly wicked. "Your desires too, if that will aid in recovery." Pardon?

"Uh-huh…" Ron nodded slowly; his instincts were warning him to leave. "Can I see my friend, now?"

"By all means," the Veela stepped back, gesturing towards the elevator. "I must, however, ask you to leave your… pet… behind, we are an establishment of class-"

"You will become an establishment of the past if you push me any further," Ron didn't raise his voice, he simply made her a promise. "Any problems with that?"

The Veela looked down at Godrey, who remained by Ron's side, no doubt eager to see his Mistress, and she knew that there was no chance of her changing their minds.

"Very well, let no one say that we're unreasonable," the Veela turned to leave. "If you wish to become a part of our clientele, come and see me at the front desk once you are finished. I am certain that we could add years to your life, Mr. Weasley." By helping me get off? I have better things to do than to become your next customer, thank you.

"Let's go, Godrey," Ron entered the elevator, keen to be done with this 'hospital'. "Why would Emilia reserve a room at this place? It's not like her at all."

"Exactly so," Godrey nodded, holding onto Ron's leg for support. "Who would search for Mistress in a den of lust and debauchery?" Oh… Clever. That's more like it, Emilia. "The discretion of L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur is legendary, which, as I'm sure Ron knows, doesn't hurt."

The elevator started so smoothly that Ron didn't even feel it, putting the Ministry's elevators to shame. Just out of curiosity…

"So… How much do their services cost?" Ron asked. "Do you know? Is it like a subscription? She mentioned something about a clientele."

"A thousand per head," Godrey replied, nodding.

"Wow… That's just…" Ron shook his head. What a waste of money. Imagine how many hungry mouths could be fed with that.

The elevator stopped with a loud ding, and once the shutter gate had opened, Ron and Godrey made their way onto the third floor. It wasn't so different from the ground floor, with the exception of jolly patients strutting about the hallway, all of them wearing fluffy white robes and disturbingly-long smiles. Sick, my arse… These cunts are just enjoying the company of Veela, who also happen to heal any sex injuries they might get.

"I hate this planet…" Ron muttered to himself.

"Did Ron say something?" Godrey asked.

"No, let's go before we catch something more wretched than Dragon Pox," Ron said, heading towards the noise but keeping his guard up. "Recognize anyone?"

"Of course," Godrey replied.

"Is that…?" Ron nearly stopped; Celestina Warbeck was cuddled up with a giggling Veela just up ahead.

"Do not stare, Ron," Godrey advised, and Ron quickly regained himself. Look at them, though…

The pair of them were all but conjoined, laughing merrily at some grand tale Celestina was telling. I wonder how mum would feel about this… I didn't even know Celestina was into witches. Doesn't she have a son? I swear I read that somewhere.

Shaking his head clear, Ron decided to stay focused on his own business. Who would want Emilia dead? Everyone who's met her, I imagine. Shit, this won't be easy, but I have to see it through. If someone is trying to harm her, I'll break their fucking hands. Abadie will just have to wait a little longer, but I'll get to him too.

His presence within this strange place did not go unnoticed, many recognised him immediately and were not subtle in their curiosity. Even if his young age were to be ignored; he was still infamous within the Veela community, and by extension, the Magical French community as a whole.

He was Ronald Weasley; the Boy-Who-Endured, and there wasn't a single Veela in France that hadn't heard his name echoed on the dinner table.

And yet, Ron felt no need to be secretive as he usually would have; he no longer felt any need for a mask. He was here, and that was that. If anyone got in his way, he'd go through them. If anyone tried to talk him out of seeing his friend, he'd outwit them. And when word of my visit gets out, I'll use that to my advantage too. I don't know how, but I'll do it, because I'm not going to roll over and lose, not without giving the world a black eye, first.

Ron and Godrey moved deeper into the hospital, finding a reception desk and the one Veela who was stationed there. Merlin, they're all so beautiful… No! Stop! Don't think about them like that, as their allures will only become more powerful if you are attracted to them! That's their trap, you read about it, didn't you?

"Mr. Weasley, there you are," the Veela greeted him; her smile enough to put any man at ease, but not Ron. "If you will please accompany me to room three hundred, Lady Travers is waiting for you."

"Cheers," Ron said, following after her, but keeping his distance. She didn't seem bothered by Godrey's presence, which was nice of her. Maybe she'll tell me something about Emilia? "Can you tell me anything about Lady Travers' condition? Is she going to be all right?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," the Veela shot a sorry look back; she did seem genuine. "However, there is nothing to worry about; she is already making a quick recovery. I can definitely share that much." The Veela then stopped abruptly, forcing Ron and Godrey to do the same. "Mr. Weasley…"

"Yes…?" Ron exchanged a slow look with Godrey, while the Veela turned to face them.

"I'm sorry about forcing you to wait, I know that time is… precious… to someone like you," the Veela started, looking around for any prying eyes. Someone like me? You mean the walking dead? "It's the bitter old bat who runs the hospital; she's not fond of you, or, your legend. They say she consorts with the High Mother herself, so none of us can even dream of refusing her…" The High Mother? This sounds bad-

The Veela suddenly shivered, almost as if she dreaded the information she was sharing. Okay… I think I've stepped into more shite. Brilliant. France, the country that keeps on giving. Who's this bitch, then?

"The High Mother?" Ron asked, not impressed by a name alone. "Sorry, I've never heard of her. Who is she? And why should I care?"

"You should care a great deal, Mr. Weasley," the Veela warned, looking quite worried. "The High Mother is… um… How do I explain? There are no words…"

"The High Mother is their queen, Lord Weasley-" Godrey started.

"Drop the Lord Weasley act, we're alone," Ron interjected.

"Certainly, Ron," Godrey bowed his head. Fuck's sake… "The High Mother rules from within the Heart of the Northern Mountains; she sits upon the Feathered Throne and commands the future of Veela-Kind." What. The. Fuck?

"Okay…" Ron muttered; he was clearly out of his element. I don't know anything about Veela, aside from the fact that their allures hurt. He mentioned the Northern Mountains, isn't that where that tribe lives as well? The one Lady Abadie was trying to goad into war?

"Does the High Mother know of Ron's location, Veela?" Godrey looked to the witch. "Is this a trap?"

"No, no traps!" the Veela was quick to assure them. "I swear, there is no tolerance for violence within these walls; this is a sacred place." Sacred? Really? Whatever, let's get back to this High Mother. "But yes, she would know by now, most certainly."

"Does this High Mother have a problem with me?" Ron asked bluntly.

"I… don't know," the Veela admitted. "I know that the Madam does, but everyone knows her to be bitter and petty. She only runs this hospital because she's well-connected, or, so everyone says." Nepotism, how I missed you?

"Who can answer my question? Do you know?" Ron asked, his tone rude without intent.

"The High Mother, I suppose," the Veela replied, her lips twitching upwards. Cheeky. I like it.

"That was good," Ron smiled a little himself, pleasantly surprised by the courage she had displayed thus far. "What's your name? I'm sorry, I never asked." Did you leave your manners back at Hogwarts, Ron?

"Valarie," she replied, hesitating.

"Just Valarie?"

"Whenever I'm here, it's just Valarie," she explained, and Ron gave a nod. Fair enough.

"So… The High Mother, huh?" Ron thought out-loud. Fuck it, I'll visit her soon, have a nice cuppa with her. "Thanks, I'll pay her a visit soon."

"Pardon?" Valarie blinked, while Godrey hid his smirk.

"You said it yourself, she has the answers I want," Ron shrugged. "And I'm the sort of man who prefers to speak face-to-face, don't have time for anything else."

"But… You can't…" Valarie swallowed thickly.

"Why are you scared?" Ron asked, studying her. "Does this High Mother pose a threat to you? Would she hurt you? Yes, or, no? I can help."

"The High Mother would never hurt her own, Ron," Godrey said, also studying Valarie. "However, Madam Richelieu of L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur is not known to be forgiving of Veela who speak too much." Madam Richelieu? I'll remember that name.

"I understand," Ron caught up. "You've done enough, Valarie, thank you. Take me to Lady Travers, I won't impose on you further."

Valarie gave a slow nod, unsure if she were wise to warn him, and without another word; she led them to room three hundred. After knocking twice, Valarie gently pushed the door open, revealing a rather tiny room devoid of anything but a bed and a chair. Why are they keeping her in a really clean broom-closet?

Ron frowned immediately, stomping into the room in a huff. There's barely any space in here for anyone else, this is inhumane! She deserves better than this!

"Ron, I'm surprised to see you here," Emilia greeted him from her bed, out of her armour and wrapped in unblemished, but common, blankets. "Have you come to see me, my friend? I fear I'm not up for conversation, not today-"

"Emilia, why are they keeping you in here?" Ron demanded, looking towards Valarie for an explanation. "Look at the size of this place, how is she supposed to even receive visitors-?"

"This room was designed as per Lady Travers' request," Valarie assured him. "L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur caters to each and every client's personal preferences, and we do not discriminate under any circumstances."

"Unless it's me, eh?" Ron clicked his tongue. "Emilia, why is this room so empty? And small? Why is it that I can't move about without smacking a wall?"

"I am here to recover, not indulge myself," Emilia smiled softly, as if the warrior within her were resting. "As I've told you many times, greed must be fought, or, we become no better than animals."

"You… are the weirdest woman I've ever met," Ron sighed out. And very disciplined, to the point of being admirable, if one can look past the sword-swinging lunatic within. "Sorry, Valarie, thought you lot were being cunts…"

"Mon Dieu…" Valarie muttered under her breath, resisting the urge to cover her ears.

Ron approached the bed, carefully moving around the chair and stopping beside the upright Emilia.

"Are you okay?" Ron whispered, brushing his hand against her shoulder. "Are they treating you fairly?"

"You are sweet to worry," Emilia closed her eyes, her skin almost yellow."I am alive, and I am being taken care of… You needn't have come all this way-"

"Nonsense," Ron said, shooting a look back at Valarie. "I'd like some privacy, please. Thanks for everything, Valarie."

"Of course, take care, Mr. Weasley," Valarie bid him goodbye, not overstaying her welcome. "And please, tell no one of what I shared with you. It would mean my livelihood-"

"I will be as silent as the grave," Ron promised. "Trust me, I keep secrets for a living." Secrets so terrible that your world would fall apart if I dared to share them.

"Lady Travers, if you need anything, please, feel free to call on me personally," Valarie shot Emilia a quick, almost bashful smile, before departing. Hmm, that was a cute smile… And it was for Emilia?

Ron looked back to Emilia, smiling slyly.

"You dog," Ron chuckled. "What were you up to before I rocked up? Did I miss something fantastic?"

"They are attracted to what they cannot possess," Emilia stated simply. "I have turned down a dozen of them so far, and I will turn down another dozen before I leave, I'm sure."

"Or, you could do mankind a favour, and just let this happen?" Ron suggested, grinning.

"How disrespectful," Godrey scolded, frowning deeply. "Take care how you speak to Godrey's Mistress-"

"He is only teasing, Godrey," Emilia assured her Elf. "It is what friends do; I've heard." Heard? But never experienced?

Ron said nothing, he was already aware that Emilia had been a lonely child, and he wasn't one to remind people of their hardships. Especially when they're still struggling with the same loneliness years on. I know just how fucked that is.

"It is what friends do," Ron told Godrey, taking charge. "Emilia and I are mates, so I can tease her all I like." Ron then turned to Emilia again. "So… Want to make small talk? Or, do you want to tell me who did this to you, so I can bring you their head?"

Emilia smiled lazily, clearly on a lot of potions.

"Small talk would be nice, but I fear time is short," Emilia struggled to sit up, but Ron was quick to help her.

"Here," Ron tucked the pillow behind her back. "Lean back, there you go."

"Thank you," Emilia groaned. "My stomach feels like it's on fire…"

"What kind of poison was it?" Ron dreaded to ask.

"Not poison, not exactly…" Emilia sighed out. "It was… Merlin, it's embarrassing to admit, but it was a very powerful laxative…" Laxative? "He went through a lot of trouble to pull a prank on me." A prank?

"A laxative, Mistress?" Godrey muttered from the door. "Truly? It was not poison? Gods, what a relief!" Some prick went through a lot of trouble just to get our attention… My gut is telling me to leave, but my mind and heart both know that Emilia needs me right now.

"All right, what is going on here?" Ron asked. "Who's 'he'? And why would he do this to you?"

Emilia drew in a sharp breath, focusing her eyes on Ron. Well? Who's behind all of this?

"Johan Abadie," Emilia revealed, freezing Ron in place. "The son I warned you about, he's returned to France, and he knows… Ron, he knows everything. He found the men I used, cut them into pieces and sent their remains to Audrey at her nanny's… She opened the box… Gods, what have I done…?"

"That Veela motherfucker," Ron growled, feeling his blood boil. "Godrey, you knew all of this?! Why the act?!"

"He lives to protect us, don't be angry with him," Emilia managed, reaching out and taking Ron's hand. "He did what he thought was best, you can believe in that."

Her grip was weak, so weak that it frightened Ron into forgetting Godrey's act of ignorance.

"Emilia…" Ron whispered, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry about Audrey, it's my fault-"

"He was sending a message to me," Emilia told him, her eyes droopy again. "Damn these potions, my head… Listen to me, he's clever, far cleverer than his parents. He found out the truth even though I covered my tracks, so we can at least assume that he's competent… Be careful, he could've killed me, but instead he chose to play a sick joke on me… And as for Audrey… He sent a coupon for a Mind-Healer, along with the… rotting flesh… The Healer has already Obliviated the poor girl at the behest of her parents, and I've lost any right to see her again…" What? A coupon? What?!

"He's insane?" Ron asked. "Is that it? He's a fucking degenerate?"

"Perhaps this is why he was sent away, even Poppy Abadie never spoke of her exiled son," Emilia replied, closing her eyes again."My poor Audrey… He murdered her innocence… because of me…"

"I'll murder more than his innocence, you can count on that," Ron swore, his eyes flashing red. "That piece of shit… Going after a little girl like that. I'll kill him." And I know for a fact that I'll be seeing him soon.

"You must wait for me," Emilia urged. "Wait until I can don my armour again-"

"I'm not going to have much of a choice, I think," Ron said, he had finally caught up on everything. "He sent me a letter, luring me to France. He knew I'd go to you first, and upon finding out that you'd been poisoned, come directly here. I think he even managed to convince the Madam of this 'hospital' to keep me waiting for a couple of hours, no doubt enough time for him to spring his trap."

"Damn, this is how it ends, then?" Emilia chuckled mirthlessly. "Trapped, and away from my Oni-Blade? Master would turn away from me in shame…"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Ron patted her hand. "Johan Abadie might be clever, but so am I, and I still have a few cards up my sleeve."

Ron then looked to Godrey, gesturing him to come closer. Find a solution, Ron. Win!

"Mistress looks dreadful," Godrey noted upon closer inspection. "How many times a day?"

"I would rather not answer that," Emilia grimaced, shutting her eyes tight. "Rgh… Damn him, it burns…"

"Can you Apparate her out of here?" Ron asked Godrey.

"Too many Wards, Godrey would be splinched into pieces, alongside Mistress," Godrey replied. Ah, they aren't playing around… Well, next option!

"What about my Portkey?" Ron asked, pulling it out of his pocket, still wrapped in its handkerchief. "This'll get us out of here, yes?"

"No, this place is warded against all manner of break-ins, which includes Portkeys," Emilia told him. "Try it, go on."

Ron undid the wrapping, carefully touching the coin-turned-Portkey, but to no effect. Shite!

"How?" Ron frowned, feeling the coin heat up and vibrate, as if trying to escape his hand. "It's trying to work, but it's stuck. Surely, they didn't go so far as to ward against Portkeys… That's illegal! In case of emergencies!"

"There is only one way in and out of here, Ron…" Emilia said, sinking into her bed. "I'm sorry… I think they've given me something… I keep losing my focus-"

"Fuck," Ron hissed, opening one of Emilia's eyelids and studying the dark orb within. "It's dilated, Godrey, just like mine whenever I'm on my potions-"

"The windows… They can't be opened, sealed by Magic…" Emilia began to drift off, leaving Ron and Godrey on their own. "Don't… die…"

"This is a betrayal of trust! The Travers Family will have vengeance for this!" Godrey started, his frail chest creaking as it puffed up.

"Let's just get out of this in one piece, first," Ron suggested, shooting a meaningful look at the Elf. " I can sense movement below me, but it's too far to pinpoint. Abadie is here, I can feel it. I suppose there's only one option left, then… I have to tear my way out of here. Weird, why am I so glad about that?

---

Johan Abadie's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (The Lonely Lighthouse – Afternoon)

"How much longer are we going to wait, Johan?" Christina whined, sitting on the foot of his bed. "You said we'd have them trapped by now!"

"I do have them trapped," Johan told her, focusing more on his choice of cravat than Christina. Red, like the Weasleys? Or, green, like the Slytherins? Which one would catch his eye the most?

Humming 'I need a hero' by Bonnie Tyler, Johan settled for Weasley red; Ronald seemed like the sort who put family over all else. A man with strong values, one who favours helping those down on their luck over exploiting them, and by all accounts; he does so sincerely. Even Madame Maxime couldn't resist becoming his friend. Yes, he's definitely sincere, otherwise; she'd never trust him. I can count on her sound judgement, if nothing else.

Johan smirked to himself; he was so very excited to meet an honest person for a change. His entire life had been spent in the company of liars and manipulators, not even Australia had provided him with decent friends, most of them had been allured by his exotic beauty, while the rest had plans on his inheritance.

Johan had always been alone, but not for much longer. A true and honest friend, I can hardly wait.

"Do you think the bitch will croak before we get there?" Christina asked, sliding off of the bed. "I hope not, I want her to know that it was me. I told you about her and Weasley, about how close they are. Taking her out of the equation was genius, and it was all me!" She certainly enjoys taking credit for my work, though she did help a bit, and considering what's about to happen to her; I should throw her a bone.

"Believe me, my dear, she will know that it was you," Johan put on a smile, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. What she does to you after… Well, I know that I'll certainly enjoy the show.

"It's only fitting, seeing as she poisoned your saint mother," Christina said, unable to hide her spite for Emilia Travers. "Did I tell you that she struck me? Her better?! I'll make her pay for that! I'll… I'll scratch her face! Yes! That's what I'll do! I can't wait for it, Johan! When are we leaving?!" How noisy, perhaps I shouldn't have indulged her?

"Once L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur has been secured by my men, we'll see to Ronald and Lady Travers," Johan replied, focusing on his cravat again. A little to the left, I have to look perfect. It's the only way I can test his character again. He can resist my allure, I tested that at Hogsmeade, but can he resist this cursed face?

Johan's grey eyes travelled to his face; his beautiful face, with its high cheekbones, its unblemished, soft skin, and long eyelashes. The sight, which tended to seduce even the most close-minded Lords, filled him with an all-consuming sense of being alone in the dark; this face had taken everything from him. It seduced anyone he had ever attempted to befriend, it turned friend upon friend, and ultimately; he had been banished because of it. Banished by my own 'saint mother', no less.

"You look beautiful," Christina purred as wrapped her arms around his body from behind, unable to resist. "You were always so beautiful, Johan, even at Beauxbatons. We girls spent hours looking at you in class, before you were sent away, that is." I know, but not one of you ever spoke to me. You all just stared, as if I were some exotic beast.

"It wasn't just you girls, I caught quite a few boys doing the same," Johan remembered, it had taken him years to ignore the stares. Years alone in that wretched prison, what a waste.

"Could you blame them?" Christina whispered, kissing the back of his neck. "Male Veela aren't exactly common, especially ones as Pure as you. Even I'm envious of your skin, you simply glow…" she trailed off, planting more kisses on his neck, and making him terribly uncomfortable in the process.

"We should remain focused, Christina," Johan stopped her before she dared to undo his clothing, removing her hands from his person.

"How long are we going to play this game? I know you want me," Christina smirked smugly. "Why haven't you tried anything yet? You're the one man I'll allow into my bed, that alone says quite a lot." Yes, it does. About you.

"You never hated men at school," Johan remembered. "What changed?"

"Nothing, I just saw them for what they are," Christina replied, clearly put off by his question. "Your mother helped me see, actually. That's why I'm doing this; she's the only person who ever cared for me." She used you, as she used many others like you. "Which reminds me, actually… You never mentioned what got you banished. I asked your mother once, but she… froze up, if you can believe it… What did you do, Johan?" I beat her at her own game. I proved myself the stronger Veela.

"I never mentioned why I was banished? How forgetful of me," Johan said, counting down the seconds before he could witness Christina's downfall. "Come along, everything should be in order by now."

"I'll find out," Christina said smugly, as if making a vow. No, you won't.

Not acknowledging her presence, Johan made his way out of his bedroom; traveling down the spiral staircase. He had bought an old lighthouse off of a rather shady wizard from China, not questioning why a Chinese wizard would own property within France, but after a thorough cleaning, not a single danger had been found, and so, Johan had moved in. His mother and father's villas ill-suited him, they only served to remind him of a lonely childhood and an unjust punishment. And that man… That vile wretch…

As he reached the base of the lonely tower, Christina droning on behind his back, he was greeted by the captain of his personal guard; Mr. Cromwell. A former British Master Duellist, Johan had no idea how Mr. Cromwell had wound up in his parents' service, but given that he had served the Abadie Family loyally for well over a decade, Johan was wise enough to never question the greying wizard, or, his past. Or, his wisdom, though I'll never admit that out loud. It would go to his head.

"We're ready," Mr. Cromwell reported, his dark gaze falling on Christina, finally silencing her.

Despite his short height and his skeletal build, Mr. Cromwell had a talent for silencing the dim-witted with a single glance. Johan had come to the conclusion that, with Mr. Cromwell's sharp features and his constantly belittling stare; he reminded many of their sternest teachers growing up.

"Um… Hello-" Christina started nervously, and rightly so.

"Is she coming with us?" Mr. Cromwell asked, disapproval marring his already intimidating features.

"She is," Johan replied, moving past the man. "Are the guards ready?"

"They're standing guard outside, but we should consider taking more than four, Johan," Mr. Cromwell cautioned. "You've read the same reports from Hogwarts as I have, remember?"

"I remember," Johan nodded, not worried in the slightest. "Don't forget that he's accompanied by a ruthless Ronin, one who is more than willing to shed her own Blood for victory. If you're all not careful, they might actually kill you."

"We're not taking more men, are we?" Mr. Cromwell frowned.

"No."

"Why not?" Christina spoke up.

"Because…" Johan stopped at the lone fireplace, which served to light the entire room, unfilled as it was. "We will not need to; the good Madam Richelieu will see to bringing the thugs." And I can focus on keeping my own safe, I need them to establish and retain my power.

"Are you sure about that?" Christina asked. "She's not known to welcome commoners into her palace."

"I brought up the idea to her to over dinner last Friday, and it resonated with her," Johan told them. Knowing her lazy character, she'll most likely hire undisciplined fools who will go too far, maybe even leave Ronald with a permanent injury. A shame that he'll need to suffer through that, but if I can show the High Mother her old friend at her worst; the High Mother will grant me the deed to L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur. I'll become the most powerful Veela Lord in one fell swoop, which makes for a fitting return, I'd say.

"Johan…" Mr. Cromwell growled; the boy was keeping secrets again. You'll understand soon enough, be patient.

"What exactly are you up to?" Christina suddenly asked, feeling suspicious of his plan for the first time. "Why not just use your own guard? They're clearly professionals, even I can see that. Why leave security up to Madam Richelieu? She's a senile, old bitch, what does she know of hiring mercenaries?" Nothing, and that's the point.

"L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur," Johan chanted, tossing the Floo-Powder into the fire as his companions contemplated his scheme. "Mr. Cromwell, bring my guards in five minutes time. Understood?"

"You're going alone? No, absolutely not," Mr. Cromwell put his foot down. "Girl, bring the men as instructed, I will go with him."

"What-?"

"Do as you are told," Mr. Cromwell ordered, shooting her a menacing glare. "I do not repeat myself, learn and live by that." She won't be living for long; I doubt Lady Travers will spare her.

"Yes, Sir…" Christina looked less than pleased, but she didn't have the spine to voice her displeasure.

Johan was glad to be rid of her, he'd only incorporated her into his plan after she had invaded his dinner with the Minister, spoiling their night with her bitterness towards Lady Travers and the 'Red Englishman'. Although the Minister had mostly ignored Christina, Johan had seen the value of her insight and had quickly put her to work.

It was thanks to her that Johan was able to subdue Emilia Travers, a Ronin of The Dragon House, which was quite a feat in of itself. It's time for all the pieces to come together, finally. There's not a moment to lose.

Making his way through the fire, Johan rushed towards the main reception, hoping to reach Madam Richelieu before she let her stupidity damage what was his. If Ronald brings lightning down upon us, it'll cost me a fortune just to get this place running again. Not to mention the damage that'll be done to its reputation.

He spotted her squat form at the centre of the reception, gleefully awaiting his arrival. He put on his friendliest smile, the one he had practised over and over again after Ronald had seen through his last one.

"Ah, Johan!" Madam Richelieu beckoned him, as if he were a dog. "My little golden goose has arrived, at last!"

"You found more men than I expected," Johan said, not giving anything away as he inspected the twenty or so wands-for-hire, who were all common crooks by the looks of it. Most of them look terribly unreliable… Perfect!

"It wasn't easy, you gave me little time," Madam Richelieu said offhandedly, poorly masking her desire for more praise.

"You did splendidly," Johan said, his smile causing a blush upon her cheek. "He's upstairs, I take it?"

"Yes, oh, yes," Madam Richelieu sneered, her eyes flashing in distaste. "If only we could have spared my palace his foul presence, the vile abomination." Does he threaten your existence that much? No, this is vanity, nothing more.

Madam Richelieu finally noticed that Johan had only come with one man, and no Heiress of the Couture Bloodline, which prompted a rather suspicious look from her. She was old and bitter, which meant that she understood how fickle her standing within the larger Veela community was, and as such; she was quick to doubt and slow to trust. Not surprising, given that an old Veela has no use, they can't even procreate and swell our numbers. They're expendable, and Madam Richelieu fears this above all else.

"Where is my beautiful Christina?" Madam Richelieu asked.

"She will be here shortly, along with four of my best guard," Johan replied.

"Only four?" Madam Richelieu's beady eyes widened, her wrinkly mouth hanging open. "You told me that this brat was dangerous!"

"Two of my men could defeat the twenty you scraped together," Johan was quick to shut her down, he saw no need to be lectured by a fossil. "Unfortunately, however, they are running late, and we are already short on time…" he trailed off. Go on, give in to your-

"We will not wait!" Madam Richelieu scoffed, her angry-red cheeks flapping. "Your men can serve as our defence; we cannot allow that boy to escape!" Hmm? She's awfully riled up, isn't she? Is she scared of him? No, she's too stupid for that… It's someone else she fears, then.

"Is there something that you're not telling me?" Johan asked softly, his tone lightly reprimanding her. "Victoria… You know I don't like secrets."

Madam Richelieu looked around them, and then, she gave Mr. Cromwell a pointed glare. Johan waved his hand, gesturing Mr. Cromwell to give them some privacy. The thin man did not waste his breath questioning Johan, as he was prone to do behind closed doors; there was no place for doubt on the battlefield, after all.

"I'm waiting," Johan said, his soft voice hiding his contempt. What have you done, you cow?

"I have invited the High Mother here, today!" Madam Richelieu whispered, and Johan nearly burst into laughter.

Had she seriously dug her own grave? The High Mother was secretly cleaning up her Ivory Court, thanks to the actions of Johan's own parents, and Veela like Madam Richelieu had no idea that their heads were on the chopping block. The young and clever, like Johan himself, had come into the High Mother's service for the sole purpose of replacing the old and superstitious, and as it turned out; Johan had picked the perfect target.

"She will be here within the hour," Madam Richelieu continued. "What a great honour, to have her sacred person walk upon these floors…" she smiled to herself, momentarily forgetting her vileness thanks to the comforting and kind memories of the High Mother.

And then, in a heartbeat, she had reverted back to her true self.

"I will throw this abomination at her feet, and she will reward me for tearing down this symbol of resistance against the might of our people," Madam Richelieu declared, pouring self-righteousness into the already dangerous mix. "I will be held in the highest esteem, and I will not forget your part in my ascension, I promise." Oh, I don't doubt it. Not for a moment.

"Then, let's not delay your ascension any further," Johan said, eager to sacrifice her men in order to save his own. "I'll leave it to you to give the orders, this is your palace, after all."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur – Late Afternoon)

"Standing out in the open is not a good strategy," Ravenclaw Ron commented, standing a good five metres behind Ron.

"Nowhere to hide, and I can't get out of here either," Ron shrugged. "Did you check every room?"

"The Madam has moved her patients into the… basement…" Ravenclaw Ron shook his head, grimacing. "They're being treated for their loyal patronage-"

"I get it," Ron stopped his past-self. "Adults… They really need to sort out their priorities."

"No arguments here," Ravenclaw Ron said, sounding a bit too friendly.

It put Ron off, made him angry even, but he said nothing. Now was not the time to fight with himself; he needed all of his focus to protect Emilia, who had fallen into a strange sleep, jerking and crying as if trapped in some endless nightmare. Godrey was livid, but he didn't explain what was going on. Damn, what did they give her?

It didn't matter, in the end, Ron mused. Regardless of what had been done to her; he could do little more than stand between her and Johan Abadie. He's thought of everything, turned this hospital into an inescapable tomb, even. And yet… He didn't need to do any of this. My guard was down at Hogsmeade, he could've had me killed right after Tracey. I was weak, distracted… I was the perfect target, but he was nowhere to be seen after our little meeting.

Ron frowned out of frustration; he was being forced to build a puzzle without all the pieces. Emilia is a part of this too, I can't ignore that. He could've poisoned her, but instead; he plays a sick joke on her, all the while traumatizing her cousin. He then goads me into returning to France, knowing I'd go to Emilia, my friend, first, which would then lead me here-

"What's wrong?" Ravenclaw Ron broke his train of thought.

"This feels… like theatre," Ron replied, still unsure. "Why trap us in here? Why delay me in order to clear the hospital and prepare some elaborate trap? He had me at Hogsmeade, I didn't even know who he was at the time, but he went and revealed himself anyway… What the fuck is he playing at?"

"You're thinking too hard about this-" Ravenclaw Ron started.

"Thinking is what I do, you ought to try it sometime," Ron bit out, not keen to hear any advice from backstabbing lunatic. "I'm telling you that Abadie is playing at something, and you can count on it. Remember his letter? He mentioned the Tree! He knows that I'm trying to save Tracey with its Silver Leaves! What information does he have that I don't?" He must've found out that Lord Greengrass has signed us up for the Junior League Tournament, which only further proves how good he is at snooping because the Chess League isn't exactly quick to share information about their Chess Masters. Fuck… What else has he found…?

Oh, Ron was nervous, now… Sweating, even. Only Marty knows that I left for France, but I don't want to call out to him. Not now, not when I know that Abadie must've planned for Marty too. I can't risk his safety because I was careless, even if he'll be furious with me… Sorry, mate, but I think that losing you would hurt even more than dying so far from The Burrow.

"Do you want me to go check around again?" Ravenclaw Ron asked, and Ron gave an absentminded nod.

Ron wasn't completely powerless, that much wasn't lost on him. He would use every advantage to his benefit, even the murderous rage within him, if need be. And yet, despite there being a chance for an outcome in his favour, Ron couldn't help but wonder if risking his Cycle for the Travers Family was worth it. One dying Elf and one broken woman? Were they worth it all? What are two lives worth compared to… trillions?!

What was his next move? Sacrifice, or, betrayal? Who do I save if everything goes to the dogs? Bloody hell, why do I have to make these choices?! A cold shiver ran through him, accompanied by dread and hopelessness. His stress was overpowering his focus, of all the fucking times… Not now. Not fucking now! You don't have the time, cunt!

Ron drew in a deep breath, closing his mind to the world and traveling to Stoatshead Hill. It took only a short few moments for him to subdue his stress disorder; Ron was at least improving in Occlumency, if nothing else. Who do I save? Me, or, my friends? Think, think, think.

What would Tracey want him to do, if she were unfortunate enough to find herself by his side in this moment? What would his parents do? Or, Dumbledore? Or, Madam Roberts? Or, even Severus Snape? I definitely know what they would do… They would do the right thing; the hard thing. I think I just made my choice.

Ron unsheathed his Aspen Wand, ready to die before allowing Abadie to get his grimy hands on Emilia and Godrey. It's a thin enough corridor, and I know just how dangerous I am in one of those. I'll do my best to keep the damage to a minimum, but getting out of here alive should be my priority-

"They're here," his past-self popped out of the floor.

"How many?" Ron asked, and Ravenclaw Ron's face fell a bit. Brilliant… Think, Ron, what's next?

"Too many for one man-"

"Give me a number, not your opinion," Ron sneered. "How many?"

"Around twenty, coming up the stairs and the elevator," Ravenclaw Ron answered. "They look like scum, I doubt they have much training in actual combat, but still, even you can't take on that many-"

"I don't exactly have a choice here," Ron reminded him.

"You do… It's not pretty, but there is-"

"I will not leave her to fend for herself," Ron shut the idea down before it could even be voiced. "Emilia is my friend, one of the few I can actually count on. I'll die before I let them touch her."

"You actually might," Ravenclaw Ron urged. "Is your Cycle-?"

"I've made up my mind," Ron cut him off, finishing just in time to hear the elevator open. Too many to fight at once, my only chance of victory is surprise.

As the tight corridor became packed with scum, with even more pouring in from the stairwell, Ron pulled out his Aspen Wand and held it out in surrender. I need time to think, so I need to distract them first.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ravenclaw Ron hissed, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Fight, you fool!"

"My wand is nothing more than an extension, I'm the conduit of my Magic," Ron said in response. "Now, shut it, I need to think of something clever." I could use Lumos Solem, none would escape it in such a closed space. But they'll need to be close, or, they'll react in time to stop it. Okay, convince them to give you an opportunity. This could work.

Ron cleared his throat, putting on his friendliest smile. Be eloquent and be polite, you only get one shot at this. Don't fuck it up!

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" Ron greeted his would-be killers, who were quick to start laughing at his gesture of surrender as they approached. "I take it that you're here to drag me off to some ungodly dungeon to await toe-curling torture? Well, I won't make it hard on you, but only if you let me talk for a bit. How about it?"

They all stopped a few feet away from him, grinning and leering at him as if he were a juicy morsel. Ron simply laughed along with them as he sheathed his wand, knowing that he could end them at any given moment, now. However, many had seen Ron walking the exalted corridors of this hospital, Celestine Warbeck herself had been in his presence. Killing his enemies here, even in self-defence, would not end well for him. Or, at least, it would cause him an unnecessary headache down the line. I'll try to talk my way out of this, but failing that… I'll have to cut down anyone stupid enough to get in my way.

"Whatever Richelieu and Abadie are paying you, I'll double it," Ron offered, looking to each man and woman to gauge their reaction. "All you need to do is help me and my friends-"

Much to his surprise, they began laughing again, throwing insults at him in both French and English. Most of them seemed to fixate on his fine clothing and his 'Lordling' status, which baffled Ron, as he had earned his clothes and he was certainly no Lord.

He was a Blood-Traitor, the scum of Magical Britain, and he fucking loved it! Regain control of the room, Ron, stop dawdling-

"Silly boy, we don't work for your kind," one of the larger wizards stepped forward, the stench coming off of his tattered robes made Ron want to cast the Killing Curse on himself. He's getting a bit too close. Cutis Terra!

"My kind?" Ron smirked as the ancient Spell empowered him, his body had become quite used to being put under such stress now. "I'm afraid you haven't seen my kind before, mate. I'm something… new, nice to meet you."

"Fou!" the wizard laughed; his breath was worse than his body odour. "I'm going to teach you a lesson-"

Ron slapped the man on top of his temple, holding back just enough to not split his skull open, empty as it was. To the horror of his men, the smelly wizard was sent reeling into the wall, dazed and shaking from shock. He might get back up, I didn't hit him as hard as I should have.

Ron silently approached the struggling thug, who was indeed attempting to stand up again, but Ron put an end to his struggles by hurling him into the opposite wall as if he were a weightless doll. Ow! I broke ribs, I heard it! Ignoring the gasps, and the fact that no one was helping this wretch, Ron took the man by the back of his tattered robes, and with all of his might; Ron tossed the man up into the ceiling, not bothering to stop his terrible fall. That was fun!

"You ever see some Lord do that?" Ron asked, turning his attention to his perfectly-still audience. "I'm no Lordling, and the next man who calls me one won't leave this place in one piece."

A foolish runt at the front of the litter fired an unknown Curse at the lone viper, who easily 'parried' it with a well-timed swipe, allowing the Basilisk Skin, and the Goblin-Steel bracer hidden underneath it, to do all the work for him. I didn't even feel that, but most likely because of Cutis Terra. I need to undo it, before it undoes me.

Ron drew in a calming breath, shooting the bloodied, but still living, wizard by his feet a quick glance. He'll need healing soon, I imagine. And a bath. Definitely a bath. As the Progenitor Magic came undone, Ron rolled his shoulders and found that there was no dull ache this time around. Progress? I hope so. All this extra training is really paying off, I've never felt more powerful!

"I wasn't born rich, I grew up in a cramped little shack, but it felt more like a home than any manor I've visited," Ron continued, glossing over the attack instead of getting even. "My father didn't pass these fine clothes along to me, I earned them. What do you know of me, hm? What exactly are Madam Richelieu and Lord Abadie, who both see every single one of you as nothing more than meat, offering you, that you would murder a stranger? Gold? A night in this shithole? Or, maybe just a hot meal…? Most of you could use it, from what I'm seeing." Yeah, I can't attack them, they're too weak to pose any real threat to me.

Not to mention that they were listening to him; they were scared and aiming their wands at him, but they were still listening, and Ron could feel their resolve cracking under the power of his words. After all, unlike the Lord and Lady who had hired them; Ron understood how it felt to be oppressed by the powerful, and he would remind these men and women of that feeling.

"Look around you, just for a few seconds," Ron went on, seeking to ignite rebellion. "Have you ever witnessed such extravagance in your sorry lives? This is their version of a hospital, no sick people and no injured; it's just a very fancy brothel." Ron then took a step forward, meeting their questioning gazes. "Have you ever felt such comfort? Have you ever had a Veela tend to your every need? Have you ever had a Veela even spare you a second glance?" Ron then made sure to eye their rugged appearances, and in doing so, emphasized just how out-of-place they all were. "I bet they'll give this place a thorough cleaning after you're all gone… They don't want any lingering signs of your 'filth' in this place."

Whispers and doubt were quickly ravaging through the enemy's numbers, with many taking the actual time to look at their surroundings, and being jarred by what they were seeing.

"Look at what they've turned you all into," Ron said, trying to show them what he was seeing through his eyes. "Fucking animals… Here to murder a lone boy and a sleeping woman in cold blood. And for what? A few gold coins? Is that what your humanity is worth? Why are you willing to part with what makes you human, just so these Lords and Ladies can gorge themselves on your souls?" Ohhh, I like that one!

"Make no mistake, you still have the option to continue being the dogs of the very people you so despise," Ron continued after a few moments, allowing them to think for themselves for once. "However… If you attack me now, I'll be forced to kill you. I'll be forced to kill every single one of you."

Ron had them now, and he knew it. Abadie and Richelieu had underestimated them, but Ron hadn't. Instead, he had opened their eyes and shown them their real adversaries. Those who live as kings and queens, while their subjects die working the fields. Just look at how different our lives are, how good they have it, and yet, most of these privileged cunts continue to demand even more from us… Bloody hell, I would have never believed this place existed until today, and I'm certain that's the case for this lot too. We're a blind, sorry bunch… Every last one of us.

"Well?" Ron asked, giving them one final chance. "Me? Or, those who would order you to murder a child? I might be the worst sort of… anomaly… on this planet, but I will never ask you to hurt the innocent, or, the weak. This I can swear to you, on my Magic, right at this very moment. I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, will never ask you to throw away your humanity, and if I do, I won't punish you for reminding me of my own words."

Ron then took another step forward, but none stepped away this time.

"Do you think Madam Richelieu and Lord Abadie are capable of making such a promise?" Ron asked, but none answered, as there was no need for it. "My offer, or, theirs? What's it going to be? Will you set yourselves free? Or, will you die pointlessly for a pair who despise you for making the mistake of being born?"

---

Johan Abadie's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur – Late Afternoon)

"They've been gone too long," Mr. Cromwell whispered, and Johan nodded in agreement. "He's talked them into his service. Or, he's killed them, but I doubt he'd be that reckless."

"So much for the pawns," Johan sighed out dramatically. "What happened to the peasantry? When did they become so unreliable?"

"Take this seriously," Mr. Cromwell frowned. "If he tries to break out of here, people could get hurt. We could end up in prison-"

"He won't do that," Johan assured his grim companion. "A sick boy who spends what little time he has left serving others… Do you really think he'll endanger a hospital full of 'patients'?" No, his compassion won't let him do that.

"A different form of sickness dwells within this place," Mr. Cromwell told Johan, he didn't approve of this place as well. "And that boy won't care one bit about these pigs. I'm warning you, Johan. You are underestimating him-"

"And you're complaining a lot more than usual," Johan said, studying his righthand man. "Are you afraid of him, Mr. Cromwell? I've never known you to be so wary-"

"Powerful witches and wizards are dying like flies all around him, your own parents included," Mr. Cromwell cut in, taking Johan by the wrist.

"What are you-?"

"Stupid boy, listen to me, now," Mr. Cromwell hissed, silencing Johan. "Magical Britain is on fire, the Old Families have been butchered, and now, a former Head of Magical Law is failing to run that lawless land. And at the centre of it all is that boy, reaping all the rewards and growing fat as his influence continues to grow beyond the borders of Britain. I have a feeling that he's more involved in recent events than anyone suspects, that feeling alone is enough to warrant my 'complaining'. Don't you think so?"

Mr. Cromwell then pulled Johan closer, a seriousness behind his eyes that Johan hadn't seen since the night he was banished. "Don't be a fool, Johan, I taught you to be better than this. There is only one constant in every plan, or, have you forgotten?"

"The plan's bound to go wrong…" Johan sighed out; he hadn't forgotten a thing. "Damn, you're really wound up about this, aren't you? Fine… I was getting bored, anyway…"

"Then, what's our next move?" Mr. Cromwell asked. I don't want my asset to be damaged, so I suppose we'll need to start negotiating a peaceful resolution.

Johan looked around the reception, his four men were stationed at different points within the room, constantly sensing Magic in an effort to avoid a surprise assault. Christina and Madam Richelieu were sitting together in the middle of the room, conspiring against those they mutually abhorred and looked down upon.

Johan's gaze lingered on Christina; this one had tried to humiliate Ronald before with another Abadie's help. And it was her idea to poison the ingredients Lady Travers has imported for her favourite cuisine… Yes, she'll make a perfect bargaining chip to start our negotiations.

Johan smiled to himself, looking to Mr. Cromwell with a very familiar glint in his eyes. "Take them both captive, they've outlived their usefulness to me. Ronald and Lady Travers can have them-"

"I don't understand," Mr. Cromwell interjected, he wasn't privy to the entire plan. "I thought these two were your allies-"

"I never wanted them, I want Ronald," Johan cleared things up, which earned him a very frustrated glare. "He's honourable, he helps the weak, and clearly; his loyalty isn't up for sale. He's still up there, willing to face twenty men to protect his friend. I admire that. I definitely respect it. And… I want that too… I want a friend like Ronald Bilius Weasley." I've made up my mind, I will win him over if I must.

Mr. Cromwell's features softened, as he knew of Johan's loneliness and painful childhood, but it didn't take long for caution to set in again. His duty was to protect Johan, especially from Johan himself, as the young man wasn't exactly built like his peers.

"He murdered your parents," Mr. Cromwell reminded Johan.

"I know, but they were willing to kill thousands for something as uninspired as profit," Johan shrugged. "They became small-minded and petty, and they challenged a wizard beyond their wit. They got what they paid for."

"All right, then… If you're sure about this, I'll play my part, as always," Mr. Cromwell started. "But, Johan… Be careful, you are playing with fire now, and fire burns indiscriminately. Weasley won't care about your plans and intentions, you poisoned his friend and put him in a corner. You'll need to face up to that."

"I will," Johan promised. "Now, let's get to work, shall we? I want this all sorted before the High Mother's arrival, which is imminent."

"Should I just walk over and stun them?" Mr. Cromwell asked.

Johan shrugged, that was as good a plan as any. "Just don't draw blood, the High Mother has very low tolerance for violence."

"Right, time to meet an actual Queen, then," Mr. Cromwell straightened up his immaculate, black robes, before heading towards Christina and Madam Richelieu. "Ladies, mind if I have a word with you? It's important."

"Make it quick, man," Madam Richelieu waved a dismissive hand. "We are in the middle of a conversation!"

"Oh, how rude of me," Mr. Cromwell chuckled darkly as he unsheathed his wand, making the Veela go pale. "I'm afraid the time for conversations is over, at least for you."

Johan didn't bother to watch the spectacle, nor did he bother to listen to Christina's screams for help; this would all be over soon, and Johan would stand victorious.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur – Late Afternoon)

"You're just another piece in some game Abadie's got going," Ravenclaw Ron reported, he had just returned from eavesdropping. "This High Mother slag is also coming here, and he wants to impress her." Brilliant, another problem to tackle.

"And he wants to be my friend, you say?" Ron couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Why do I attract all the fucking psychopaths?

"He sounded genuine," Ravenclaw Ron admitted. "Still, odd man, going about this in such a way. It leads me to assume that you were never a target, he just wanted you here for convenience's sake. He wants to impress you, same as his High Mother. This is a show, mate, and we're the audience." Well, I am a bit impressed, but Abadie may live to regret catching my attention.

"Deranged prick, what makes him think I'll want his friendship after all he's done?" Ron muttered under his breath, looking back to Emilia's feeble form.

Whatever potion she had been given by the staff shortly before Ron's arrival had rendered her weak and clammy, trembling and weeping in her nightmarish sleep. It physically pained Ron to see his friend in such a sorry state, and the fact that he could do little but sit by her side cut even deeper. She's always been so… powerful… It feels wrong to see her like this. She looks so much like Tracey…

"What are we going to do?" Ravenclaw Ron asked. "He'll be bringing the women up for 'negotiations' soon, do you want to hear him out?"

"He has five men in total?" Ron asked again, he had to be certain. "Only five?"

"Yes, but they look professional," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "And with the High Mother rolling up soon, it'd be wiser to run away. I doubt the Queen of all Veela would saunter about without protection." True enough, it's just a shame that Abadie controls the way out of here. I could start a fight, but that puts too many people at risk. It puts Emilia at risk.

Ron leaned back in his chair, listening to Emilia's ragged breaths and soft cries as he mulled over his next move. What nightmare was she trapped in? Or, was it just a memory? Godrey hadn't been very specific, even after Ron had recruited a small force to protect her. From what Ron had gathered; Emilia's mind was under attack, and the only cure was for her to best her nightmares. Whatever that means, all I know is that Godrey is after blood. What kind of potion is this? It has to be illegal, just the thought of trapping someone in their worst nightmare is-

"Mama…" Emilia whispered in her nightmare, suddenly jerking and giving Ron a fright. "Pourquoi n'ai-je pas de papa…? Comme les… autres filles…?"

Emilia let out a proper sob near the end, her thin fingers bunching up the sheets till her knuckles turned white. Ron wasted little time in taking one of her hands in his, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. It seemed to help, if only a little, as Emilia's murmurs became more subdued.

"What was she saying?" Ravenclaw Ron asked.

"Something about her mother and father," Ron replied.

"Ah, you truly have a knack for tongues, Ronnie," Ravenclaw Ron chuckled. Daphne said so as well, but I think she was just trying to make me feel better. She always did that.

"Don't laugh, nothing about this is fucking funny," Ron warned, shooting his past-self a dark glare. "That's my friend they're torturing, so zip it."

Ravenclaw Ron cleared his throat, fixing up his ethereal tie and struggling to hold in his amusement. I wonder if I'll become that barmy by the end. Fuck, that's actually terrifying…

"What did they give her?" Ron asked, hoping his doppelganger was more forthcoming than Godrey. I think that Elf is only capable of telling the whole truth to Emilia.

"The Crucible, they call it," Ravenclaw Ron replied, suddenly turning solemn at the drop of a hat. "A vile concoction, it's forbidden in any civilised community. Even the Potions Guild aren't allowed make it. You can ask your precious Snapey about that later, if you want."

"I'd rather not ruin his day with my sorry face…" Ron admitted. "The Crucible… What's it do, exactly? Why is she crying?" I didn't think she was capable of it.

"You know Boggarts, right?" Ravenclaw Ron asked, and Ron gave a nod. "This potion is a Boggart in liquid form, only it doesn't let you go until you concur it."

"Can't we do anything?" Ron asked, frustrated. "We can't wake her up?"

"It'll kill her, shut her brain down before it lets you interfere," Ravenclaw Ron warned. "Don't try it, even the Elf didn't take any risks and left the room." Fuck! Who would make such a potion?! And why?!

"You think Abadie planned this?" Ron asked, his fist clenching.

"Maybe… It doesn't make sense, though, not anymore," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "If he really does want to be your friend, then this isn't his work. He even made sure that… What was that little girl's name, again?"

"Audrey."

"Yes, that thing," Ravenclaw Ron nodded. Cunt, she's not a thing. "He made sure that she could forget what she saw, he even recommended a fucking Mind-Healer… That's some considerate behaviour-"

"Should I get him some flowers?" Ron asked. "Stop sucking him off, and just tell me what you're thinking."

"He was careful not to cross any bridges, or, at least he thinks so," Ravenclaw Ron explained. "Using a potion that is considered an Unforgivable by the Potions Guild doesn't make sense, you would never look past that."

"It was the Madam, then," Ron figured. "She had one of her Healers do it for her, the vile bitch… When Emilia wakes up, I'll throw that pig at her feet." Our gift to you.

Ravenclaw Ron smirked, pleased with the idea. "You're certain that she'll wake up, genuinely certain. Why?"

Ron said nothing, he still had some faith left in his friends. Certain friends, at least. He gave her hand another squeeze, just to alert her of his presence. We'll beat this, I know we will. We've got more adventures to go on, don't we?

"You're a good friend," Ravenclaw Ron said suddenly.

"What?" Ron looked back, slightly perplexed. Where did that come from?

"Just making an observation," Ravenclaw Ron shrugged. "If I had a friend like you in my Cycle-"

"Shut up," Ron hissed, his blood speedily boiling. "I tried being your fucking friend, remember? But you can't be trusted, you can't…" Ron trailed off, noticing his past-self shrinking because of his harsh tone. "Fuck you… You're poison, just like the Crucible."

"You don't mean that…" Ravenclaw Ron said, averting his gaze. "You're angry, I remember what that was like… And I deserve it. My freedom does come at your expense, I think I'm the reason why you've been struggling lately in your training-"

"Oh, you think?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes. "Don't pretend like you didn't know while I was screaming in frustration, thinking that I was fucking useless. I'm still fucking useless… Sitting here with my thumb up my arse while Emilia's facing Merlin knows what."

"The best you can do is watch over her, and you're doing a good job," Ravenclaw Ron said. "If you're smooth enough, you could even talk your way out of here. Abadie will be here shortly, just accept his friendship and-"

"No, I don't make friends with men who hurt girls, or, any child, actually," Ron shut the idea down. Should I invite Lucius fucking Malfoy over for dinner, next? Well, he's certainly blonde enough, init he?!

"You don't have the luxury of being stubborn, not today," Ravenclaw Ron advised. "Look, you can keep hating me… But I'll prove myself to you, starting with giving you sound advice. Those men down there will cut through your motley band of rapists and thieves-"

"Don't forget that Abadie can put them under a trance, taking their will away within a heartbeat," Ron added, still listening due to his dire situation. I'm fucked. Definitely fucked.

"My point stands, then," Ravenclaw Ron said. "Just take the hit to your pride, and go home. You're not even important in what's going on here. The sooner Abadie has what he came for, the sooner this ends."

The words burned his ears, he was so tired of throwing away pieces of himself, but his life wasn't the only one on the line. Godrey and Emilia would be used against him if he refused, or, worse; they would be killed outright. Gods, why am I just…? Please, stop this shit…

As always, it started with trembling hands and a cold sweat upon his back; his stress mounting until it reached a boiling point. Fuck this! Somehow managing to pull in a stress-filled scream for Emilia's sake, Ron rapidly banged his spare knuckles into his own forehead. Fuck, fuck, fuck! FUCK! One fucking nightmare after another?! Is this what life is?! Fuck it, then! I don't want it!

"Ron, stop it!" Ravenclaw Ron tried to grab at his left hand.

"…Don't have anything left to give…" Ron grit out, nearly ripping his throat as he tried to regain some semblance of control, but still failing to keep a lid on everything that had been accumulating.

"Don't do this, not now," Ravenclaw Ron pleaded, pushing himself into Ron's blurring vision. "Please! You'll make a mistake and get killed-"

"You're not helping!" Ron hissed, his eyes flashing red. "Shut up… Stop filling my head with your insanity!" They're all trying to kill me! Trying to drive me mad!

His frantic eyes eventually landed on Emilia, her brow furrowed once again and her face damp with sweat. Irrationality taking over, Ron shakily pulled out his handkerchief and managed to wipe most of the sweat away, despite the tremors. Is that better?

"Fucking hell…" Ravenclaw Ron muttered to himself, rubbing his face. "Ron, stop it, you might wake her-"

"I'm being gentle, okay?" Ron said defensively, but stopping nonetheless.

"Look at me," Ravenclaw Ron tried again. "Hey, look at me!"

Ron flinched, but did as he was told. "What…? What do you want from me?"

"I need you to listen, because you're crushing her hand," Ravenclaw Ron said, alerting Ron of his vice-like grip, which he promptly relinquished. Sorry, Emilia. "Imagine her disappointment when she wakes up, only to find out that you've crippled her." Was that supposed to be a joke?

Ron shot a quick glance at her hand, just to make sure he hadn't made another mistake. It looks okay to me. That's a relief.

"Recent events have been trying," Ravenclaw Ron started, and Ron grimaced. "Okay, it's been fucked… But that's what life is, I think-"

"What?" Ron blinked. "You're fucking horrible at this-"

"Will you let me finish, you prick?" Ravenclaw Ron snapped, his frustration more than evident. "I'm trying to tell you that I've come to a realization, something I forgot down there in the dark. Life is hard, it's not meant to be any different. I wasted mine because I refused to learn this lesson…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

Ron waited, and eventually, his past-self returned from remembering his mistakes. Well…?

"I fucking wasted it, mate," Ravenclaw Ron sighed out, looking defeated. I know… "But you? Posh restaurants want to feed you for free. Bored mothers and fathers, waiting for their disappointing children to return home, choose to send you gifts as if you were their own. There are little wolf-children out there praying to you as if you're a ginger Merlin. Most girls you run into want your fingers up their twats-"

"Whose life is this, huh?" Ron asked, looking around in confusion. "I don't see anyone else in this room, so you must be talking to me."

"You see only your obsession," Ravenclaw Ron said bluntly "I was the same, most Rons were the exact fucking same. Sure, we live different lives, but sooner or later, we always find ourselves in front of danger. At least, you managed to find a cause worth risking your life for, and as much as I hate to admit it… Your perseverance is something to be admired."

"You're just saying that-"

"No, I'm not," Ravenclaw Ron said adamantly. "I meant what I said before, I really wish I had a friend like you. You would've set me straight-"

"I would've smacked the shite out of you," Ron wiped at his eyes, making his past-self chuckle.

"Yes… It would've done me some good," Ravenclaw Ron said, looking oddly human for once. "But life is hard, and I had no one… Instead, I let my poor judgement turn me into a… A fucking slave, let's be honest-"

A sudden knock at the door stopped Ravenclaw Ron; the time for breakdowns was over. Still, Ron waited for his past-self to continue, as his words were indeed helping Ron strengthen his own resolve.

"Lord Weasley, Godrey is entering Mistress' room," Godrey announced from outside, polite as most Elves tended to be. Lord Weasley… Fucking Lord Weasley… Fuck that bloke.

"Whatever you decide to do, be strong," Ravenclaw Ron said, giving Ron a parting nod. "Abadie's charms won't work on me, so you're not completely alone. I'll see you down there."

With that, Ravenclaw Ron phased through the floor, just as Godrey tiptoed inside as to not disturb Emilia. "Lord Weasley-"

"Stop that nonsense," Ron nearly got set off again. "That's a command!" There! I tried being nice, but if you can't understand that I hate being called that, I'll fucking teach you!

"Yes… Ron…" Godrey bowed his head, accepting his orders.

Ron sniffled and wiped angrily at his eyes, letting go of Emilia's hand and marching past Godrey. "Let's go, tell me what's happened on the way." Abadie's ready to talk, I assume.

"Is Ron suffering from anxiety?" Godrey asked, following Ron into the pillaged corridor. Don't just bring it up so nonchalantly…

"I'm okay," Ron murmured, trying to convince himself. I'll do whatever I have to, can't let my pride get Emilia killed. "Tell me about Abadie."

"The Veela wishes to bargain," Godrey sounded bitter. "Godrey took the liberty of rejecting the foul creature's terms." Creature?

"He's a man, a fucking twisted one, but still a man," Ron reminded Godrey. "And what were his terms?"

"Ron for Mistress," Godrey replied, stopping Ron in his tracks. "The arrogance! As if Godrey would accept such-!"

"So… I give myself up, and you lot get to leave?" Ron asked, but no response came. "Godrey-?"

"Do not be foolish, Ron has done so well to impress Godrey so far," Godrey said, he looked cross.

"I'm not here to impress you," Ron sighed out. "He's got every advantage, and I'm certain he's got more wands on the way-"

"That is an assumption-"

"Only an idiot wouldn't call for more wands, he controls the goddamn floo," Ron pointed out. "What do we have, Godrey? Emilia's on her deathbed, I'm having a nervous breakdown, you're older than fucking sin, and the men-"

"Such a lack of manners, it is no wonder that Ron and Mistress get along so famously," Godrey frowned, his wrinkly face pinching.

"And the men under my 'command' are looting this place dry, so we can trust them to do fuck all," Ron finished. "One look from Abadie, and they'll be wanking in our faces! You think the Killing Curse is Unforgivable? Wait until you go cum-blind!"

Godrey was unable to hide his disgust at the vivid imagery, which only served to prove Ron's point. Wait, if Emilia and Godrey are sent on their way, I have no reason to accept Abadie's friendship. I can tell him to fuck off. It won't end well for me, but I don't care… I'd rather die than let that prick bend me to his will.

Giving nothing away of the move brewing in his head, Ron started heading for the elevator. Godrey followed, listing his many disagreements, all the while shouting at the looters around them to fulfil their duties. They don't care, mate. Look at this place, they could easily make a fortune by selling these prized paintings and diamond chandeliers on the streets. What do they need me for? I'm a foreigner asking them to risk their necks for mine. They don't even want to work for the woman who brought them here.

Making his way into the elevator, Ron quickly pressed the button for the ground floor. Godrey managed to hop inside before the shutters closed, much to Ron's chagrin.

"Godrey, it's not safe for you-" Ron started.

"But it is safe for Ron?" Godrey asked in response. "Mistress would never surrender Ron; this goes against the Travers Family code-"

"Is your code going to Magic us out of here?" Ron asked. "If it comes down to it, I'm willing to fight, but only as a last resort. I'm in a foreign land, Godrey… No one will come to save me here, nor do I want more problems with the French."

The elevator came to a stop, but before Ron could exit, Godrey moved into his way. What the…?

"Mistress will have Godrey's head," Godrey tried, but Ron knew better.

"She won't hurt her family," Ron said, patting Godrey on the shoulder as he moved past him. "You'll be fine, and if I'm careful, I might be too."

"The Veela will murder Ron," Godrey urged, chasing after him. All right, he's fucking up my concentration! I need to straighten him out!

"Godrey, you need to start trusting me, all right?" Ron stopped, turning on his heel and looming over the old Elf. "Have you ever picked up the newspaper? If you have, then you know who I am. I'm a fucking prodigy, mate, you get that? Albus Dumbledore himself considers me a personal friend and ally! Whatever I set my sights on, I conquer! No matter the personal cost! If you don't buy that, go have a chat with the hundreds of Werewolves I saved from pathetic, petty bastards like Abadie! Even my country's fucking Minister for Magic couldn't stop me! You think this little shit stands a chance against me?! I'm Ronald fucking Weasley, and I always fucking win!" I'm going to fucking die today… I'm certain of it, but I'm also certain that Emilia and Godrey will go on!

Godrey had shrunk in awe of the wizard glaring down at him, as if he had finally remembered that Ron was also the mastermind who had orchestrated the elimination of over forty of the Dark Lord's most influential allies in a single night, effectively chasing the foul bastard out of the country and delivering the Order with yet another crucial triumph.

Seeing his chance, Ron continued. "I need only two things from you right now, Godrey."

"What… What does Lo-… Ron need?" Godrey asked, standing up straighter. Good man, let's do this!

"First, I need your trust," Ron said, and the old Elf blinked in confusion. "Do I have it, now?"

"Yes, Ron," Godrey said, bowing in respect. He stood up straight, only to bow again. Whatever, focus on the task at hand, Ron.

"Second thing I need is for you to start moving Emilia out of here," Ron instructed. "I'll talk them into allowing you two to leave unscathed, understand?"

Godrey looked up at Ron's face, peering into his eyes before finally giving a resigning nod. "Godrey will protect Mistress with his life."

"It won't come to that," Ron gave Godrey an encouraging smile, glad that he was finally onboard. "I'll make sure of it, just keep your head down and leave. Oh, and don't even think of coming back with Emilia's personal army-"

"Why ever not?" Godrey looked shocked. "Godrey will bring the full might of the Travers Family crashing down upon these foul creatures! No friend of Mistress will be left behind, not by Godrey-!"

"And after your daring rescue, we'll all go to prison together," Ron 'laughed', stopping Godrey. "I can't wait to bunk with you, Godrey, so I can beat the shit out of you every single night until you croak." Ron then adorned a more serious look, while Godrey thought twice about his plan. "There are innocent people in here! Like Valarie! I don't want you marching an angry army in here! Merlin knows what the men will do to the poor girls who work here…"

Godrey's eyes widened in realization.

"People are just animals," Ron said bitterly. "If Emilia's men see this place, and then see what they can take from it, there will be no stopping them. Not without her. So, please, just do as I say, and let me worry about the rest. This is what I'm good at. It's why I was born. It's why Emilia trusts me above all others."

Godrey let out a long breath, convinced of Ron's plan, at last. "If this is the only way, then… Godrey stands impressed, Sir." He does? "Godrey will tell Mistress of Ron's brave sacrifice-"

"I'm still going to try and talk my way out of this, so don't get your hopes up," Ron felt the urge to point out. "And don't tell her anything of the sort, she'll only blame herself. I don't want that for her. Now, sod off. You have a job to do, don't you?" And so do I.

"Godrey will see it done," Godrey bowed deeply, and after studying Ron one last time, he returned to the elevator.

As the Ron listened to the elevator depart, he drew in another deep breath, hoping to smother the dread still lurking within his heart. Why am I scared? I thought I wanted this to end badly… Fuck, I don't even know what I want anymore. I suppose it doesn't really matter, the only thing on my mind should be Emilia and Godrey's safety. I asked Emilia to poison the Abadies, I put a target on her back and then ignored the Abadie Heir… Sorry, Emilia, I should've warned you about him, but it's too late for that, now. Instead, all I can do is make sure that you don't pay for my error with your life.

Resolved to take responsibility for his actions, Ron strode towards the main reception with squared shoulders and his head held high; he would not give them an inch.

Ravenclaw Ron was waiting for him by the entrance, and he wasn't alone. A short, frail man wrapped in dark wizarding robes was waiting for Ron, his dark, beady eyes piercing through the redhead. Ron could tell that this one was dangerous with nothing more than a look, and the fact that Ron could feel the stranger's Magic reaching out to throttle him didn't help matters.

Still, Ron didn't break his stride, stopping only a few feet away from the stranger. If this goes to shit, I just need to charge him. I'm protected by my armour, and he looks like he'll break easy.

"Mr. Weasley, I was just about to come fetch you," the British wizard greeted, surprising Ron with his familiar, British accent. "How good of you to make your way down here on your own accord."

"That's me, the good and helpful one," Ron smirked, effortlessly masking his doubts and fear. "Now, why would you be coming to fetch me? Plan to join my side too?"

The man's pale lips quirked upwards for a moment, his eyes digging into Ron's. "I don't need Legilimency to know that you couldn't control them." Fuck.

"I have no idea what you're on about-"

"I can sense them, upstairs," the man told Ron. "All of them running about, frantic and scared. I could sense the fear in Lady Travers' Elf, too. You have no options left besides diplomacy. I know this because that's how my client operates. You aren't the first, and you-"

"Will be the last, if you keep pushing me," Ron promised, stopping the stranger.

"We have a plan," Ravenclaw Ron sang, reminding Ron not to lose his temper. Right.

"What's your name?" Ron asked, putting on his smirk again. "You know mine, seems only fair that you share yours."

"You may call me Mr. Cromwell," the man replied. That's not his real name.

"Why are you serving a French Lord, Mr. Cromwell?" Ron asked, hoping to win over this one too.

"He pays well," Cromwell replied. "And I promised to watch over him." Really? Why?

"A promise… So, I suppose there's no point in me trying to buy you, eh?" Ron sighed out.

"No, there isn't."

"Are you going to kill me?" Ron asked outright, despite knowing better.

"I don't kill children, Mr. Weasley," Cromwell replied, stepping aside to reveal the entrance into the main reception. You don't kill children?

"No, you just scar them for life, instead," Ron pointed out. "Tell me, what kind of man targets a six-year-old girl?"

"What kind of man commits murder, and expects there to be no consequences?" Cromwell asked in response. An idiot, which makes perfect sense in my case…

"I haven't-"

"Do not lie to me, pay me the same respect I'm paying you," the man cut Ron off before he could start. "You shed my client's blood; you opened that door. My client could've buried you alive today. I could've slit your throat in Hogsmeade, in that little shop." He was there too? I didn't notice him… "Instead, you're still breathing, as is the instrument you used. My client has been nothing but merciful to you both. Would you have shown the same mercy if my client had spilled your blood? For any reason?" No… No, I wouldn't have. I would've killed every Abadie on this planet, because I don't compromise… If Abadie were anything like me, Emilia and Godrey would've been dead long ago.

Faced with his own hypocrisy, Ron pulled in his rage over being hunted and trapped. Pay him the same respect, Ron. The time for lies is over. It's time I faced my consequences, one way, or, another.

"They left me no choice," Ron said simply, and Cromwell gave an understanding nod. "They would've burned down France and England just to be a few Knuts richer."

"You saved a lot more lives than you took, and as such; my client and I understand why you took the path you did," Cromwell said, shocking Ron with his understanding of the redhead's circumstances. "We know the truth, all of it. We know what Lord and Lady Abadie were planning, just as we now know that the High Mother planned to have them captured and locked away within her mountain before her realm's peace was truly endangered. If you had been a little less sloppy, and a lot more cautious, all of this could've been avoided."

"What…?" Ron blinked. "This High Mother was against their plan?"

"Look around us, Mr. Weasley, and you will come to realize that the Veela can only prosper in times of peace," Cromwell said, pointing to the extravagance all around them. "Why do you think they chose to kidnap and 'mingle' with wizards before revealing themselves to the world as irresistible, young women? Ones who didn't resemble the beast within whatsoever? I'll tell you why. The Wizards of Old would've destroyed them, for that is what they did to anything… different. The High Mother understands that we wizards have not changed so much that her people can hope to rise up against us, and according to my client; she wished only to protect the peace she has spent two centuries cultivating." Two fucking centuries?! How long do Veela live?!

Perhaps he had been underestimating his enemies, again? Well, that shit stops right now. I have to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible! I'm up against someone who is a century older than Dumbledore himself!

"Don't let him get under your skin," Ravenclaw Ron said, as if sensing that Ron had been shaken a little. "Death cares very little for age, as I'm sure you'll teach this slag if she tries anything." Easy for you to say, she can't have you tortured to death.

"So… You're telling me that I should've just ignored Lord and Lady Abadie, on the off-chance that some Veela sitting pretty on a throne in some godsforsaken mountain would show up and save my country from war? I didn't even know about this High Mother until today, so save me the lecture on being cautious. Your client's mother and father would've orphaned thousands, they made their choice. I didn't start the fight, I simply ended it." And I would do it again a million times over.

"I suppose that's fair," Cromwell said, stepping aside once again. "I only know as much as my client has shared with me, Mr. Weasley. It would serve you better to speak with him; he has been waiting for you."

"And how do I know that you won't ambush me as soon as I head through the door?" Ron asked.

Cromwell said nothing, he simply pulled out his wand and offered it to Ron. Um… What. The. Fuck? Ron looked back to Cromwell's indifferent expression; this man knew that he didn't need a wand to subdue Ron. Honestly, I feel more in danger now than I did before. Still, no wizard would simply offer up their wand, even as a trick. He must expect it back in one piece.

Ron took the polished, ivory wand from Cromwell, slowly studying it in within his hands and discovering that it was also made of Aspen, much like his second wand. The same kind of wood chose him… Wait, Cromwell's confidence in his abilities could work in my favour. I doubt they know about Artyom taking me to see Marco, or, about Marco constructing me a perfect wand. I can give Cromwell my Cypress Wand, bring his guard down a little. Just in case.

Ron carefully pocketed Cromwell's wand, and then; he produced his Cypress Wand and offered it to the frail wizard. "I'm putting my life in your hands, Mr. Cromwell. Let's see what kind of man you are."

Pleasantly surprised by Ron's maturity, Cromwell accepted the redhead's wand as a gesture of good faith. Ravenclaw Ron giggled mischievously before he phased through the wall, calling out when he found no ambush in store. "All clear! No one is waiting to jump you! Actually, they've even set up tea!" Tea? "Oh, it's green tea! Never mind!" Fuck! Green tea? Animals!

Making his way into the main reception, with Cromwell following him in and sealing the door behind them; Ron spotted Johan Abadie waiting for him by the coffee table. The young Lord was, for lack of a better word, beautiful, with moon-bright skin and white-gold hair parted down the middle.

And yet, Ron couldn't help but grimace at the sight of him. What's he wearing around his neck? I like the colour. Shame it's wrapped around this cunt's neck, though. Maybe I'll hang him with it?

"I've waited so long for this moment," Johan smiled, not looking remotely creepy this time around. "Please, come sit with me, we have a lot to get through."

---

Johan Abadie's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur – Late Afternoon)

Ronald's sour mood was hard to ignore, but Johan understood that the redhead was rightfully upset, and therefore; Johan was willing to excuse the rage dancing behind Ronald's eyes.

"A lot to get through?" Ronald asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yes, so very much," Johan replied. "But let's start with an apology… I am sorry for causing you such distress, despite being aware of your failing health."

"You're not sorry," Ronald said coldly. "I know I'm not sorry for killing your parents, except for the fact that I didn't get to beat them to death myself. I enjoy that part… That's my favourite fucking part." I wasn't expecting this manner of terrifying honesty… He's more than just angry, he's ready to kill me as well. Damn, did I go too far?

"I'm not one for personally committing violence," Johan admitted, moving forward with his plan. "Still, I enjoyed your work, even if it were sloppy."

"Sloppy?"

"You should've had your assassins killed as well, it's safer that way-" Johan started.

"I don't hurt my own," Ronald said harshly. "But you wouldn't understand that, would you?"

"And what makes you say that?" Johan asked.

"I don't see the young Lady Couture and Madam Richelieu anywhere," Ronald looked around the room. Wait… He's aware of Christina? How? "And where are your four other men?"

Johan shot a quick look towards Mr. Cromwell, who too looked equally shocked with Ronald's extensive knowledge of their numbers and allies. He didn't tell Ronald anything, he's more surprised than me.

"How do you-?" Johan started.

"You fucking cunts don't know who you're dealing with," Ronald said, and then, a cruel smile flashed across his face. "It's okay, I know you've gone and tied them up for me. I just want to… talk… to them, that's all."

Johan managed to retain his composure on the outside, but his mind was struggling to understand how Ronald knew all this. It's like he was in this room with us the entire time… Even Mr. Cromwell didn't know of my full plans! How does he know all this?!

"Are you scared?" Ronald whispered dangerously, freezing Johan in place.

"Yes…" Johan whispered back, unable to break eye contact. "How do you know all this? Who's told you of my plans?"

"Oh, about you wanting my friendship? Or, about your precious High Mother coming over to meet us?" Ronald asked. "Sorry, which 'plans' are you referring to? I know them all, and it gets a little hard to keep track of all the pricks who want to bring me to my knees." Gods… He was in this room while Mr. Cromwell and I were plotting our move! He had to be! I just learned of the High Mother's visit myself!

Johan took an instinctive step back, but Ronald was quick to step forward; laughing at Johan's expense. He's playing with me…

"How do you know so much?" Johan asked, unable to keep his voice completely civil. "Who are you, really?"

"Oh, don't be that way, I know men like you don't like your power being snatched away from you," Ronald laughed. "But you see, I go around spanking Ministers in my spare time, so if you want to play on my level, Abadie… You have to have the balls to keep a straight face, at least."

Johan clenched his jaw; he wasn't accustomed to being spoken down to. It's okay, he's had a long day. Let him talk, he'll calm down eventually.

"Mr. Cromwell, bring in our guests, please," Johan said, calming himself down with Occlumency. "It's okay, Ronald won't harm me. It's not me that he's angry with-"

"Oh, you've pissed me off too, but I want to deal with Christina, first," Ronald said, was he tearing control of the room away from Johan? Well, he's managing it just fine… "I want to know what her problem is with me."

"You're talented and famous, that's enough reason to despise you," Johan told Ronald. "She is a jealous little thing, spoiled rotten by her doting mother and father. You can have her. Consider it a gift."

"Then, bring me my gift," Ronald said, moving over and taking a seat. "And bring some proper English tea, not this disgraceful piss. What is this? It even smells off to me."

Mr. Cromwell drew in a calming breath in the back, while Johan signalled him to go do as he was told. Go bring him his tea before this situation becomes unsalvageable… He's more difficult than I imagined…

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur – Evening)

"So, how did you get to Emilia?" Ron asked, mostly out of curiosity.

Abadie looked up from his cup of muck, smiling faintly. "Lady Travers has a certain diet, and her ingredients are all imported from Magical Japan. It was Christina's idea. The Elves would, of course, check for poison, a thought that never occurred to Christina. So, I took the liberty of adding something less dangerous, and utterly undetectable." A prank potion, which forces extreme… Can't finish that thought, I respect Emilia too much to even think about that…

"Are you placing blame on the witch you just stabbed in the back?" Ron asked. "How do I know that you're not just trying to save yourself?"

"Save myself?" Abadie chuckled. "Am I in danger?"

"Your men aren't here to save you, so yes," Ron replied.

"My men have to clear the mob upstairs," Abadie shrugged. "And Mr. Cromwell is fetching you your gift and tea. I'm not worried, you're not uncivilised." Are you sure about that?

Ron chuckled under his breath, but quickly composed himself. "Right… You're smart, I'll give you that. You got Emilia, you got me, and it seems that you even got this hospital." The Madam is definitely out of the picture, he can't afford to let her keep her power. She'll retaliate immediately, and she's an idiot to boot, which makes the threat infinitely worse.

"I think you're sharper than me," Abadie admitted casually, and Ron raised an eyebrow. "I caught you off-guard, you're distracted and for good reason." Tracey… True enough. "I can help you with her, by the way. I want to."

"Why?" Ron asked, suspicious. "Don't play games when it comes to this, Abadie… I don't have any patience left in me."

"After that business with your Minister, I don't blame you," Abadie said, his voice was strangely soothing. "I don't have the information you need yet, but the High Mother is old and wise. She has seen much of our world, and bedded many wizards and witches along the way." Pardon? "Men and women talk after sex, as far as I've been told." As if he's a virgin… Fucking look at this cunt…

"Your High Mother just went about…" Ron trailed off. "… Everywhere?" Isn't she a Queen of some sort?

"Many places, as she boasts," Abadie said. "Does sex scare you?" What?!

"My fist should scare you," Ron said coldly, putting up his walls.

"That's a yes, then," Abadie chuckled. Fuck!

"What's with you Veela and sex?" Ron asked, frowning. "Fucking relax, okay? Take a cold shower once in a while." Horny weirdos.

"Not all of us are victim to our baser natures," Abadie assured Ron. "And as for your question, it is in our nature. Or, at least, their nature…"

"You're special, are you?" Ron asked, sounding bored.

"I came out wrong," Abadie said, he sounded so candid that Ron was left a bit speechless. "I know I'm not what I should be, it's why I've sought you out." Oh… He's actually lonely, then? This is a bit… awkward…

"Because I embrace broken people?" Ron asked. "I'm not going to give you charity, Abadie."

"I want friendship, not charity," Abadie promised, meeting Ron's gaze. "Honest friendship."

"You have some nerve-" Ron started, scoffing.

"You murdered my parents, don't act as though you and Lady Travers haven't spilled Abadie blood," Abadie said calmly, stopping Ron. "My best guards served my mother and father before I took them with me, both of whom were quite generous to their own. They're the ones I've brought with me today. They need to see you and Lady Travers bleed, just a little. And as for your harsh treatment, I needed to provide the High Mother with a legitimate reason to cast Madam Richelieu down. Knowing the wretched woman's nature, I let her set the trap. I knew she would take things too far-"

"She gave Emilia that fucking evil potion!" Ron snapped, but Abadie wasn't fazed by it.

"Yes… I'm sorry about that," Abadie apologized. "I did not think her capable of such cruelty; I underestimated her. I can't change what's been done, however; all I can do is apologize, and ask you and Lady Travers for a truce. We've fought, but now, we should become friends. We are young, ambitious, and powerful. We would form a formidable triad." He's so upfront about everything that it's fucking throwing me off. I'm used to more lies in my conversations.

"She'll kill for you what you did to Audrey," Ron promised, smirking. Even after you kill me for turning you down, she'll still be there to hunt you down. The Crucible is nothing to Emilia Travers.

"You must ask her not to, then," Abadie smiled in return.

"Oh, must I?" Ron asked. "Why would I do that?"

"If she comes after me, the cycle will continue," Abadie replied. Cycle?

"Go on…"

"She will retaliate in young Audrey's name, I will retaliate to stay alive, and just like that; any potential we both had is wasted in a pointless, drawn-out struggle," Abadie went on. "And if she's busy with me, she won't be there for you when you need her." Fair.

"Why not just come to me?" Ron asked. "Why all the theatrics?"

"Would you have agreed to be bait?" Abadie asked in response. Fuck no. "The High Mother wishes to freshen up her inner circle, but in order to do that; she needs authentic reasons to denounce the spent. It would look unmotherly, if she were to simply cast them out."

"Charming woman, this High Mother of yours," Ron muttered under his breath.

"She is, you will see that for yourself," Abadie's calm smile widened a little, as if he were hiding something. Brilliant. Kill me now, please?

Ron's past-self suddenly phased into the room via the ceiling, floating above Ron and Abadie with a manic grin. Bloody hell… Creepy bastard. "Abadie's men won, they're escorting the Elf and the Ronin down, now. Neither have been harmed, though Abadie's men aren't looking too pleased with your friends." As long as they don't touch them, it's fine… I really ought to start carrying the Calming Draught on me… I can't take this stress anymore… I'm always on edge, fucking always!

Fixing his collar and drawing in a deep breath, Ron did his best to hide how worried he was for Godrey and Emilia, especially now that he knew Abadie's men had an axe to grind. Why didn't Godrey just sneak out? Damn it, damn it, damn it…

"Did I fucking set you off, again?" Ravenclaw Ron winced. "Mate... Do you want me sod off?" … No… I'm alone, and I keep feeling scared, even after everything I've endured… I'm still just-

"Are you all right?" Abadie's voice suddenly cut through the 'noise'. "Ronald?"

"I came out wrong too," Ron couldn't help himself, roughly itching his right temple. "And I only got worse…" Shut up, what the fuck are you saying?!

"Your conditions," Abadie nodded in understanding. "I've stressed you terribly, haven't I?"

"Le-Leave it…" Ron stammered, feeling jittery, now. Fucking hell, just end it… Look at me, twitching helplessly like some fucking nutter…

Abadie nodded again, looking sombre. "I'm sorry-"

"I don't want your pity, it doesn't do shite," Ron bit out, averting his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. Brilliant, throw a tantrum… Keep showing everyone that you're a fucking child-

"I take things too far; I never really know where to draw the line-"

"Not helping your case," Ron stopped him. "I'm fine." Twice in one fucking day. I'm getting worse… People are making me worse!

"… It's why I need someone like you," Abadie confessed, making Ron look up. "I've seen you, you're honest and true in your intentions. And you do good because you want to, not because you are forced to. You could teach me-"

"Teach you?" Ron couldn't believe this.

"This bloke… He's off his rocker," Ravenclaw Ron shook his head. "And that's coming from me!"

"I want to learn, is that so hard to believe?" Abadie asked. "I will never lie to you, I will never betray you, and all I ask in return is that you bestow unto me the same respect. I don't play games, you'll come to learn that. I'm serious about this, I think we can all go further together than apart." Again, stop being so upfront…

"Okay…" Ron sighed out, not sure of what to do anymore. "Just… Give me a second to collect myself…" Just get it together. Think of the hill, think of how calm the Sanctuary is, think of anything that isn't this hospital.

"Take as much time as you need," Abadie leaned back and gave a comforting smile, content with Ron's silent company.

What was he going to do next? The High Mother sounds like a capable source, I mean, she's a bloody Queen… What if her help saves Tracey? Can I really just tell her to piss off? I owe Tracey my life, and I miss her. I want her back. But fucking Abadie… He attacked a little girl…

"Why…?" Ron groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose; there was a headache coming, he could feel it. "Why did you have to go after Audrey? I can't look past that."

"What if I mend my ways? No more children," Abadie promised.

"Really? Just like that?" Ron chuckled mirthlessly, studying Abadie's face. He's fucking serious, the weird cunt… He definitely came out wrong, at least we have that in common.

After a brief moment of thought, Abadie gave a nod. "Just like that."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?" Ron asked, leaning forward. "You get how shady you fucking sound, right?"

"I don't lie, not unless absolutely necessary," Abadie said, his eyes were oddly… empty.

"Is there a reason for this?" Ron asked. "Or, you were just born to be a Saint?"

"Intelligent people don't lie," Abadie replied. Ahem…

"Fair enough…" Ron muttered under his breath, nearly laughing at himself. If my intelligence is to be counted, Abadie might be onto something. Ha!

"So, do we have a deal?" Abadie asked, a sudden glimmer of life in his eyes.

"A deal?" Ron repeated. "Friendship isn't a deal, Abadie, deals can be broken at the earliest convenience. Friendship is a commitment, to stand by another person through thick and fucking thin. If you can't understand that, then you're not going to find any friends any time soon."

Ron's words had resonated with Abadie, why else would he be smiling again? Give up on reading his thoughts, Ron. Focus on your own. Abadie would make for a powerful ally, but what he did to Emilia… It's not me who needs to forgive him, it's her. If she refuses to look past his crimes, then I have to stand by her decision. As for Tracey, I'll speak to this High Mother myself, and if she has any knowledge of Ilvermorny that I don't, then I'll ask her to share it. I'll do whatever she wants… For Tracey.

"I'll prove myself to you-" Abadie started.

"Prove yourself to Emilia, first, and then you can begin earing my trust," Ron decided, finished with the conversation. "I can sense your men approaching, and they have Emilia and Godrey with them." I can't feel Emilia…

Worried, Ron shot a quick glance at his past-self, who flew off to check as if reading Ron's thoughts. Maybe she's weakened to the point where I need to be closer to her? That could be it, actually.

"I can't do anything for her," Abadie said. "In case you were wondering."

"You can let Godrey take her home," Ron suggested.

"The Elf will bring her men back with him," Abadie countered.

"No, he won't," Ron said. "We've spoken about it already, starting a war in here will only bring us all more problems. And, in case you were wondering, I don't need Emilia's army to break me out of here. Are we clear?"

Abadie gave an understanding nod. Good.

"You make excellent points," Abadie said, taking a sip of his tea. "And I want to trust you, so I'm going to take the leap. I hope you understand that such a decision is not easy for me, I don't trust easily. No one has ever given me any reason to."

"Intelligent people don't lie," Ron turned it around. "No army will come to rescue me; you have my word." And now, I'm keen to meet the High Mother; she might be just what I need. I still haven't discovered anything of significance about that damn tree, aside from a few stories of Salazar's wand being buried beneath it. That has to be wrong, though, because how could Salazar's wand even end up in the fucking States?

Abadie's men marched in with gusto, Godrey and Emilia in tow. Ron stood up and turned to face them, spotting his past-self giving him a thumbs-up. I was right, I can sense her now, but fucking hell, why does her Magic feel so… timid? That's not like her at all.

Ron made his way over to Godrey, who was already giving Abadie a menacing glare. "Godrey, is she all right?"

"Yes," Godrey replied, not breaking eye-contact with Abadie, who was still sipping his tea. "Can Godrey take Mistress home?"

"Yes, I talked him into it," Ron replied, which finally made Godrey look up at him. "What? Why so surprised?"

"Ron kept his word, after all…" Godrey whispered, more to himself than to Ron. "Perhaps, after all this time, Mistress has broken the curse of betrayal which has plagued our venerable-"

"Is now the time for your poetry?" Ron asked, losing his patience. Go, before he changes his mind.

"No, of course not, Ron," Godrey bowed his head, and then; he looked up with a smile. "Thank you, my friend." Um, sure, mate… It's nothing.

"Go on," Ron moved out of their way completely, looking to Abadie's men. Barely even scratched, so much for my army of thieves. "Your Master has given them permission to leave, escort them out."

"Do as he says," Abadie told his men. "We are even, now."

The bearded one at the front gave a nod, signalling the others to escort Godrey and Emilia to the fireplace.

"Godrey will see Ron again?" Godrey asked, not moving. Tracey still needs me, I almost forgot that.

"You will, but only when she wakes up," Ron replied, giving a reassuring smile for the old Elf's sake. "I think I'm going to be very busy in the coming days…"

Godrey gave a slow nod, and after one last grateful smile, he took his Mistress' floating stretcher in one hand, and began their journey home. Ron's eyes followed Emilia all the way out, her ragged breaths and whimpers still made his stomach twist. If she doesn't wake up, I'll get a leaf for her as well. It could help her. Yeah, I'll… I'll just figure something out… I can do this, saving people is what I do-

"Ronald?" Abadie called, his voice sounded concerned.

"Hm?" Ron looked the pretty blonde.

"What's the matter? Your hands," Abadie pointed with his eyes, and Ron hid his shakes behind his back.

"Leave me be… I told you I'm fucking sick…" Ron sighed out, why did everyone need to bring it up constantly? They want to humiliate you. Everyone does. There, that fucking simple.

"Do you want to come sit down?" Abadie asked, his soft voice was doing wonders, even if Ron wouldn't admit it. "Mr. Cromwell should be here any moment."

"Where did he go to get my tea?" Ron frowned petulantly, raising his voice a little. "Diagon Alley?!"

Abadie chuckled, amused, as did Ron's past-self.

"I didn't know about the Crucible, I had to keep the Madam and Christina away from a blood-thirsty Ronin," Abadie explained. "I took every measure, I had them sent to my mother's old villa, the one with the lamp-less dungeons." Conveniently, that tells me nothing whatsoever about where this villa is. He's clever, and it's annoying me now. "They will arrive shortly, now that I have control of the building. Come, sit with me."

Ron hesitated, but Abadie's patience won out, and Ron quietly went and took his seat again, tucking his hands away in his pockets.

"What if the High Mother wants to hurt me?" Ron asked, finally. "Have you given that any thought?"

"I won't let her," Abadie promised, empty eyes and bright smile in place. "But I don't think it will come to that, she has a soft spot for children. She is the High Mother, after all." I don't even know what that means, and I really don't fucking care enough to learn.

"Whatever…" Ron muttered to himself, closing his eyes to rest them a bit. I'll protect myself, there's no use in expecting anything from anyone for any reason. Trust your instincts… and hope for the best.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Ronald?" Abadie shook him, and Ron nearly shot out of his chair. What the fuck?! "You fell asleep very suddenly."

Ron quickly cleared his eyes, muttering curses at himself. I really fell asleep?! What's wrong with me?!

"I didn't want to wake you, but the High Mother should be here any moment, now," Abadie said, offering Ron a handkerchief. "It's enchanted to clear your skin, use it."

"Thanks…" Ron accepted the handkerchief, wiping down his face with the cold-to-the-touch fabric. Merlin, that feels amazing. Where did he get this?

Just as Ron was about to straighten up his clothes, he realized that there were muffled voices behind him. Ron turned to investigate, only to find an old woman and Christina Couture tied up and on their knees. You!

Without thought, Ron barged towards the Madam, who went wide-eyed and screamed through her gag, but before he could reach her; a bright wall of Magic emerged to block his path. What the…?

"Can't let you do that, Mr. Weasley," came Cromwell's voice, he had cast Protego Maxima without his wand, which was still tucked away in Ron's coat. "The High Mother gets to decide their fate, now."

"She poisoned my friend!" Ron turned to Abadie. "I don't get a say in what happens to her?!"

"I need her, Ronald," Abadie replied, calm as ever. "But once the High Mother is done with her, I will speak to the court on your behalf."

"What court?" Ron bit out.

"The Ivory Court," Abadie replied, as if Ron knew what that was.

"That explained everything, thank you, you fucking minge," Ron hissed under his breath, whilst wondering where Ravenclaw Ron was. "Why didn't you wake me up? You useless prick…"

"Pardon?" Abadie asked. "I didn't quite catch that."

"It's nothing…" Ron grumbled, while Abadie and Cromwell exchanged looks. Yes, I'm fucking insane, get over it!

Ignoring the sobs behind him, and the whispers ahead of him; Ron fixed up his suit, glowering to himself as he focused on recollecting his thoughts. I've done some stupid things, but falling asleep in the middle of my work? What the fuck? And I'm still so fucking tired; I could honestly sleep for a week.

Rubbing his face down with the cool material in his hand, Ron let out a long breath. What was he going to do next? And what about Christina? Her parents came to my trial, they actually showed me support… Even after how things went; they didn't forget about our budding alliance. Not many people I know would do that.

Pocketing the handkerchief, Ron turned to face Christina again; she had shrunk in size and was bawling uncontrollably. Ugh… Shut up! Why would you involve yourself with such horrible people in the first place? You were born with everything, and your parents love you! Do you have any idea how many children I know who would give anything to have what you just threw away? What's the fucking point of crying now, huh? Stop it, just bloody stop it.

Christina noticed Ron staring, and meekly; she looked up to meet his cold gaze. She reminded him of Carey, frankly; both girls were of similar age and appearance, and now; he had seen them both weep out of fear for their lives. Is this what I do, now? Scare young women to death? Who's next? Daphne? Pansy? Hermione? Amanda? Priscilla? Padma? No, that's… I don't want to be like that… I don't want to scare good people… But Christina… She's not good. She wanted Emilia and me dead, and all because of petty jealousy. Good people don't do that.

"You need help," he could hear Samantha's voice, even now. "You should just leave, Ron… Leave Hogwarts behind… You, and everyone in this school, would be better off if you were getting help as far away from here as possible." I think she was right, after all. Leaving Hogwarts was the right call, and I might never come back, even… Not until I need to defend it.

"Give me Christina," Ron said before he could reconsider. I'm going to regret this…

"Give you Christina?" Abadie blinked, while the witch in question looked horrified. Not in that way, you fucking degenerates.

"Her mother and father… They came to my trial to support me, I can't just ignore that, can I?" Ron explained, feeling bitter at the thought of letting her go. "I'll take her home, and trust me, she'll never speak of this to anyone. Not after I have a long chat with her."

"You'd let her walk away, after all she's done to you?" Abadie asked, clearly puzzled. "What of Lady Travers?"

"You people keep acting like she's some animal, and I'm getting very fucking tired of it," Ron turned to face Abadie, not hiding his anger. "She has more honour in her fucking pinkie than you do in your entire body, got it? A foolish girl like Christina is not worth Emilia's time and effort." Still, I'll need to ask her to let it go, just in case. After what happened with Audrey, Emilia won't be seeing things clearly.

"I don't understand, this woman is a threat to us all-" Abadie started, but Cromwell stopped him.

"I understand; no one died, and no one has to," Cromwell said, giving Ron a nod of approval. Don't act chummy with me, fuckstain. "We can blame everything on the Madam, and Mr. Weasley can depart with Lady Couture."

The Madam began shrieking at that, furious and utterly rabid, while Christina pleaded with teary eyes and nodded fervently.

Abadie shook his head, but conceded. "Very well, if this is what you want."

"It is," Ron said, looking back to Christina.

She looked more confused, and grateful, than scared, now. Ron simply shook his head, there was no point in trying to understand people like her. If she gets in my way again, then I'll have no choice but to finish her off. But for now, I'll settle for taking her home.

The wall fell away, and Ron retrieved Christina harshly, jerking her up by her arm and dragging her away from the livid Madam. Christina's muffled protests fell on deaf ears, as Ron was already going out of his way to care enough to even save her.

"The High Mother doesn't know of Christina's involvement?" Ron asked, turning Christina around and undoing her bindings.

"No, she played a very small part," Abadie replied, and Christina growled like a beast.

"Stop that," Ron frowned. "I'm going to untie your hands, now, but if you try anything funny, I'll leave you to your High Mother." That did the trick, as Christina stopped her bestial growls and frantic fidgeting. "If you're smart, you'll stay quiet, understand? I'm not going to risk my life for yours, I'm only doing this because you happened to get lucky." She shot a confused look back, her eyes red with tears. "Your mother and father, you dolt… I'm doing it for them, not you."

Once the binds were off, Ron nudged her towards Cromwell.

"Come, girl, I'll heal you away from here, best not to be seen in your current state," Cromwell read Ron's mind.

With trembling hands, she removed her gag, and Ron couldn't help but notice that the fabric had been cutting her. She must've been running her mouth too much, so whoever tied her up made sure she couldn't make a sound. Harsh, but it could've been worse.

"Wh-… Why…?" she rasped, unable to move and unable to meet his gaze.

"Are you fucking deaf?" Ron sneered. "I just told you, I respect your mum and dad. Now, sod off!"

She flinched before running towards the door, only to be stopped by Cromwell, who stunned her with Ron's wand before she could start screaming.

"Really?" Ron sighed out. "Did you have to stun her again? Couldn't silence her?"

"I'm helping you," Cromwell frowned, taking Christina's limp form in his arms and speeding away. "Find me after the High Mother departs, you can take her off my hands, then."

After Cromwell had departed in search for a nearby room, Ron made his way over to Abadie, who was busy making sure that he looked ready to entertain a Queen.

"What about the guests?" Ron asked. "You know, the ones under us?"

"They're taking part in-"

"Stop right there," Ron said, not interested. "Will they disturb us?"

"No," Abadie chuckled. "Sex is nothing to be afraid of, Ronald."

"Then, why haven't you tried it?" Ron asked dully.

Abadie said nothing, but Ron knew he had won. I can be clever too, sometimes.

After what felt like an eternity, the doors sprang open, and an entourage dressed in fine, colourful silks glided in. Every single one was Veela, with perfect skin and unparalleled beauty.

Amidst the colours stood a tall, slender, and regal woman, more beautiful than any of her peers, and dressed in an ivory ball gown; appearing as a bride. Her lengthy, white-blonde hair swayed freely behind her once she began to move, graceful and nimble as a cat. She can't be two hundred… She looks younger than Pandora! How is this possible?!

Ron was quick to hide his gaze, she had to be a powerful witch, indeed. Not a single wrinkle, or, imperfection. A part of him was begging him to stare at her, to admire her, but Ron was one stubborn bastard, and he refused to look at anything but his shoes.

They all began whispering his name, no doubt studying him as if he were a foreign beast, until, very suddenly, they all went quiet.

"Approach, both of you," the High Mother spoke, her voice was carefree and… amused?

"Ronald," Abadie whispered, patting Ron on the back. Don't fucking touch me.

Ron approach the flock of Veela alongside Abadie, but he didn't raise his eyes. They'll put me under their Spell, there's too many of them. And where the fuck is that prick?!

"Are your shoes really that interesting, young man?" the High Mother asked, and her flock chuckled as if on cue. Yeah, I'm not starting our first meeting by becoming a joke.

"I can show you, if you like," Ron said simply, looking up slowly and defiantly. "You'll have to kneel, though, I didn't know that the Veela would be so willing to follow a Giantess."

"Oh, my! Aren't you quick to anger?" the High Mother giggled paternally, as if Ron were her very own youngest, surprising the redhead and silencing her entourage at the same time. "I'm just under six feet, that's not that abnormal, is it? How short is the average British witch?" You're not that tall, I'm just an arsehole. Still, good on you for taking that in stride. Maybe she's not so pretentious as I thought-

"Many women are tall, Mother," a young Veela was quick to assure his Queen, whilst shooting Ron a hateful look. "This foreigner has no taste for elegance and beauty, how could he possibly appreciate your magnifi-?"

"Teacher's pet," Ron coughed, not being very subtle at all. "And no, most women aren't giraffes wearing human skin." That one was for looking down on all Elves just because they're not as 'beautiful' as you. Now, I'm done. Let's get on with this.

"Allow me to dispose of this one for you, Mother!" the nearest woman shrieked, her features morphing into that of a murderous bird. Calm down, you overgrown vulture. Your 'Mother' looks more amused than upset, so why are you so offended?

"Forgive him, Mother, his tongue is sharper than his mind," Abadie stepped forward, blocking Ron from view. "And I've put him through a lot of stress-"

"And why would you do that, Johan?" the High Mother asked, losing her mirth and turning formal. "As far as I have been told, young Ronald is ill and should not be put under any 'stress', as you put it." Yeah, fucking explain yourself to her, cunt. Go on. This is going better than I thought!

"It was to prove Madam Richelieu's foolishness to you, Mother," Abadie said, moving out of the way and gesturing towards the Madam, who was trying, and failing, to crawl behind a sofa. She looks like a flobberworm. Ha. "Not only did she attempt to murder Ronald in your name, but she has also poisoned Lady Travers, with the Crucible."

Eyes shot wide once again, and whispers broke out amongst the intrigued 'nobles'; they would be gossiping about this for days. They're just like the fucking Pure-Bloods… Oh, my Entity… I'm stuck in an endless loop. Ron shook his head clear, deciding to turn his focus towards furthering his own goals.

"Where is Lady Travers, now?" the High Mother asked once the murmurs died down, disappointment and anger dancing across her face.

"I have sent her back to her manor, alongside her Head-Elf," Abadie replied.

"I see," the High Mother looked towards Ron. "I'm sorry about my subjects, I hope you can forgive them for involving you in our affairs."

"What about Emilia?" Ron asked, not really accepting the apology. "She might never wake up. Aren't you going to apologize to her?"

"I will, once she awakens," the High Mother promised. "I might even invite her over for dinner, I am most intrigued by her Magical Arts." Me too.

"Oh, well, that's good, then," Ron said, nodding. At this rate, she's going to win me over without coercion.

"Would you like to accompany her?" the High Mother asked, smiling. Not keen to be trapped under a fucking mountain, so no. "You would be well-received. Mostly." Huh? Mostly?

"It is not dinner that interests him," Abadie spoke up, giving Ron a meaningful look. "Ronald needs your help, Mother."

"Does he?" the High Mother looked excited at the prospect, which made Ron swallow thickly. I wonder what she'll ask me to do for her in return? "If it is within my power, then he shall be helped. For all of our past mistakes, I feel as though I owe him as much." Wait… Is she saying that she'll help me because she feels responsible for her people's actions? The Tournament? The Abadies? Most of my 'allies' throwing me under the bus soon after? No way… A leader with a decent head on their shoulders? I don't see the old man anywhere-

"It is a private matter, Mother," Abadie said, noticing Ron's hesitation. "And Ronald would prefer it remain that way."

"We are not leaving our Mother alone with this foreigner!" one of the Veela spoke up. "That you would even suggest such-!"

"France is my kingdom," the High Mother said, stopping the righteous bootlicker. "I will go where I please, and speak with whomever I choose-"

"The Oracles would never allow-" another started.

"They are not here to spoil my fun today, thank the Gods," the High Mother said, which seemed to shock her subordinates. I have no fucking clue about what's going on, all I know is that if I play my cards right, I could potentially discover information that'll save Tracey's life! This… This is huge!

The High Mother then smiled at Ron, gesturing him towards the seats. "Are you hungry, Ronald? I can always tell when children are hungry."

"Are you related to my mother, by any chance?" Ron joked, pulling out his best behaviour. I like her, I think… Still, let's just see what her words are worth, first. "She can always tell as well."

"All mothers can," the High Mother laughed freely, waving her subordinates off. "Bring us food worthy of France's reputation, it is never too late to play the proper host. The one who finds Ronald the most delicious dish will be rewarded."

---

One Hour Later

Ron was filled to bursting, and yet, the food was still coming. The High Mother's competition had been a mask to make sure that Ron would eat his fill, not that he needed any incentive, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Boeuf bourguignon," Charmine, the youngest of the High Mother's attendees, announced, placing a hearty bowl of beef and vegetables in front of him. One bite of this, and I'm going to shit myself.

"It smells delicious," Ron smiled up at the witch; she was of similar age and looked eerily like Daphne. Can't help but wonder if she was brought here specifically for that reason. I'm not even sure how to feel about that.

"It's my favourite," Charmine beamed. Of course, it is…

Unable to refuse, not with Abadie and the High Mother discussing the rights to the hospital in their own little bubble; Ron took spoonful into his mouth, ignoring the fact that Charmine was staring at him. How many more after her? I need to go for a walk, give my stomach a moment of rest.

"Well?" Charmine asked.

"It tastes even better than it smells," Ron didn't need to lie, good food was still good food.

"You don't have to finish it, I can tell that you've eaten more than enough for one day," Charmine said, and Ron nearly praised the Gods for their small mercies. "But you have to tell the High Mother that mine was your favourite."

"What…?" Ron blinked, even more surprised when she gave him a cheeky grin, which broke the illusion of Veela perfection.

"I'm new to the court, mother wants me to make a name for myself," Charmine whispered, her deep-blue eyes darting towards the High Mother. "But the others are not taking me seriously simply because I'm the youngest, but that doesn't even matter because they're all so dull and greedy for attention anyway, that I don't want them to like me. Well?" This girl has no filter, does she? And Merlin, she talks really fucking fast. "So? Are you in? Please? It'll be fun-"

"Slow down, I'll play along, just… take a breath," Ron whispered back, not wasting the opportunity. "And stop grinning, you'll give it away."

"Pardonne moi," Charmine cleared her throat and fixed up her expression, but was unable to completely hide her excitement at the prospect of winning. "Mother, I think Ronald is ready to make his choice."

The High Mother and Abadie broke off their conversation, looking back to Ron.

"Good, Johan tells me that we have little time left, as his guests must be growing bored," the High Mother smiled at Ron, glad that his colour had returned. His guests? So, it's done then? Out with the old and in with the new, not very motherly, if I'm being honest. Still, it's none of my business, I hope they hang that wicked bitch.

"Well?" Abadie asked. "Which was your favourite?"

"Charmine's," Ron replied, ignoring the excited squeals of the victor. She couldn't help herself, could she? Oh, well.

"Then, it's decided," the High Mother looked to Charmine. "You win, mon chéri. What prize would please you most?" This should be good.

Ron looked to Charmine, only to find her smiling down at him. Um… Hello?

"I would like to visit Ilvermorny, for the upcoming Junior League Tournament," Charmine announced. What the…? What happened to shaming the snobs? "What do you think, Ron?" Ron? "I can help you practise in-between your matches. Or, we can fool around, if you want to relax instead." WHAT?! What the fuck?!

The High Mother chuckled under her breath, while Ron felt his face heat up. She's just staring at me like she didn't just fucking say that out-loud… Why do I get the feeling that I've been set up? This is too good to be true. Nothing like this ever happens to me.

"I will see what I can, you may tell the others that the competition is now over," the High Mother said, noticing that Ron had gone very quiet. She looks just like Daphne, only with shorter hair and a smaller bust… That can't be a fucking coincidence. They're trying to trick me, that has to be it.

Charmine had also noticed Ron's unease, so she gave him an awkward smile before bidding the High Mother goodbye. As she left the room, Ron turned his pale eyes towards the untouched beef bourguignon. This is something I'd usually order at a restaurant-

"Is something wrong, Ronald?" Abadie asked.

"She didn't even have an accent," Ron suddenly realized. "Charmine… She must've practised her English quite a lot, I nearly didn't catch on."

"She is a studious girl-" the High Mother started.

"Who happens to look an awful lot like Daphne Greengrass," Ron finished for her.

The High Mother didn't bother denying anything; she simply gave Ron a sorry look. "You cannot fault my great-granddaughter for her looks, she gets them from me." Great-granddaughter? "The same can be said of her wild nature, I'm afraid… It is difficult to deny her of her wishes, as she often finds ways to get whatever she wants without my aid." Was… Was I just looking for reasons to not trust them?

"Ronald, the High Mother means you no harm, I promise," Abadie said gently, but Ron wasn't going to fall for it. Keep your eyes sharp, you can only ever trust yourself.

"I know you've had a difficult past with my kind," the High Mother said. "But the actions of the few should never condemn the whole. Albus Dumbledore spoke those very words to me once."

"You know the old man?" Ron asked. He's never once mentioned you, but then again; there's a lot he doesn't mention.

"Everyone knows him," the High Mother replied dreamily. "He dazzled my Ivory Court once, the way he made those flames dance for me… So beautiful! Truly, a spectacle to remember!" Show off. "Of course, it was nothing compared to your own feat; resisting so many Veela at once. In over two hundred years, I've never seen anything like it." So, she's over two hundred? She has to be using a Glamour Charm, no other explanation needed.

"Does it bother you?" Ron asked plainly. "It seems to bother most Veela, and I don't really understand why. I've done nothing to earn their spite, save for being born…"

"They are all spoiled children, and spoiled children don't enjoy being refused," the High Mother explained, while Abadie uncomfortably shifted in his spot.

"You'd call your own 'children' spoiled?" Ron was pleasantly surprised.

"They are spoiled! Aren't you, Johan?" the High Mother looked to the young Lord.

"Yes, Mother, we are," Abadie agreed, though Ron wasn't sure if he meant it.

"There are certain miscreants within my regime who wish to undermine me, Johan's dearly departed mother and father were a part of this chapter," the High Mother told Ron. "They think I don't see them, but I do. Even a mother's mercy has limits, Ronald. You have no reason to fear us, anymore. I know what I must do, now more than ever." If there are rats in the walls, it's time to throw the garbage out. It's not that hard.

"Where do I fit into this?" Ron had to ask.

"Well, nowhere," the High Mother laughed. Okay… "You can come visit me, of course, my Mountain could stand to see a bright new face grace it's halls."

"So, you're just going to help me?" Ron asked slowly. That definitely doesn't make sense to me.

"I am trying to make amends, Ronald," the High Mother said. "I want nothing in return, you may even forget of my existence once I depart, if that will ease your mind." It does, but just a little. "Johan has explained everything to me, and I want to help! Only someone heartless would ignore your plea, Ronald, and I am not heartless." People with heart usually don't feel the need to point it out.

"So, you'll tell me everything you know about the tree?" Ron asked, leaning forward.

"I know very little, which is a clue, actually," the High Mother replied.

"It is?"

"I've been around for a very long time, my dear," the High Mother smiled, not looking a day over thirty. "In that time, I've explored many of our world's secrets, and yet, never have I come across anything like that tree. It can heal almost any ailment! But that's only the surface; the Sacred Tree is Ilvermorny! At least, that is what I've gathered over the years." The tree is linked to the school?

"I don't understand," Ron admitted. "How is a tree so important?"

"Well, they say Salazar's wand rests beneath the tree," the High Mother replied, her eyes flashing with thrill. "And if his power is to be believed, then we can assume his will lives on through his wand, and therefore, the roots of the Sacred Tree. In his own way, Salazar helped bring life to two Schools of Magic, not just Hogwarts."

"I've heard that rumour, and I don't buy it," Ron said. "Not the part about Salazar's power, of course, but rather that one wand is acting as Ilvermorny's life-blood. The castle has been around for centuries."

"The Sacred Tree was planted by Isolt Sayre herself, the Founder of Ilvermorny," the High Mother countered. "It is as ancient as the castle that houses it. As for why the wand's Magic and will may have been amplified, it is simply because Mount Greylock is a Site of Power; much like Hogwarts itself." A Site of Power? So, a bountiful land where Magic converges, if I'm remembering my history lessons from first year. According to Binns, wizards still can't fathom how, and why, so much errant Magic flows beneath the Earth crust.

"You still haven't explained how the tree plays such an important part in Ilvermorny's history," Ron said. "Better yet, why do you consider it to be so important? Most scholars gave up on studying the tree a long time ago." It's why I can't find anything useful! Fuck those idiots!

"Because I've never been invited to visit it," the High Mother gave her reasoning, confusing Ron further. "You see, those who know me know that I have a taste for… secrets… With secrets, they hope to win me over for a night, maybe even two if the urge is upon me." This is fucking awkward; I hate how open they are about this nonsense. I don't want to hear about your urges, lady, keep it in your pants. "And yet, never have I been invited to Ilvermorny, despite my many letters to the most recent Headmaster."

"Harkin…" Ron sighed out. A stubborn, but decent, man, from what I've been found out. He spends his spare time advocating for Centaur and Dryad rights within the States, an endeavour I can respect and want to support… Damn, I'm probably going to make an enemy out of him too…

"He is a difficult one to crack, even when cornered," the High Mother admitted. "He threw off my allure quite easily, it was honestly terrifying. Not many can muster such focus in the face of my power."

"You tried to use your allure on him?" Ron asked, feeling oddly disappointed in her.

"Tried, and failed terribly," the High Mother laughed, not bothered by her failings. "He was very polite, though. Bless him." Does she take anything seriously? And clearly, Harkin is more powerful than I was led to believe. Brilliant.

"So, you don't have anything of substance…" Ron sighed out, unable to hide his frustration. "Just that the tree is shrouded in secrets, and that Harkin is a part of that."

"There's more, so don't look so glum, you serious boy," the High Mother 'scolded', smiling in a comforting manner. Don't look at me like that… You should be afraid of me… "During my own research, I came upon a rather fascinating discovery… Every Headmaster and Headmistress, including Isolt Sayre herself, were missing two fingers-"

"Missing fingers?" even Abadie was surprised by this odd bit of information.

"The pinkie and the wedding ring finger, each and every one of them," the High Mother beamed, excited to share her findings with those who were actually interested. "This is not uncommon knowledge, and yet, no answers have ever been given to the public. Even Asmodeus Harkin had all of his fingers before he was elected to be Headmaster, near the end of the Great War. Now, he has only eight." Okay, she's onto something. I saw a picture of Harkin in my research, I just figured he lost his fingers during the war. Dad says many people lost bits they never found again.

"Whatever is going on with the Sacred Tree, Harkin has to know about it," Abadie started.

"Headmaster Harkin, use his proper title, Johan, he's earned it," the High Mother corrected Abadie, while Ron hid a smirk. "Same goes for you, Ronald. Respect your elders, especially the kind ones… There's not many of us left." Well, she's not entirely wrong from what I've seen…

"Uh-huh, sure," Ron agreed, though not really caring about mending his ways. "The tree? You were saying, Abadie?"

"Headmaster Harkin is the key, and if Mount Greylock is a Site of Power, then perhaps the secrets of the Sacred Tree lie beneath the mountain itself rather than the tree," Abadie suggested, looking to the High Mother. "Your own mountain has been hollowed out to house our people, perhaps Mount Greylock is not so different."

"An interesting thought," the High Mother nodded to herself. "Sadly, Mount Greylock is impenetrable, not even the Dark Lord could conquer the Grey Mountain." No, but he did something that fucked everything up. I just need to find out what, and for that, I need to find out if Abadie's theory has validity. Luckily for me, I have a ghost on hand who can phase through any wall readily enough.

Ron smiled to himself, had he just found a way forward? I'll go there right after this in order to introduce myself to Harkin, and while I do that, the other me can go looking through the castle.

"You have something in mind, don't you?" Abadie asked, his eyes were sharp. "Well, tell us, we're both most interested in your thoughts, Ronald."

Ron simply stood up and closed his buttons, nodding to himself as he planned his entrance into Ilvermorny. Fawkes… I need to demonstrate my power right from the start, and what better way than to use Dumbledore's own Phoenix? Time to go beg a fire-chicken for help, which isn't even the weirdest thing I've done…

"I think Ronald is ready to save his friend, which is what truly matters," the High Mother told Johan, subtly gesturing him not to interfere.

"Thank you," Ron looked to the High Mother, he had no words for her generosity. And here I was… Shaking in my boots this entire time.

"I look forward to meeting Tracey Davis, along with the rest of your adorable little friends," the High Mother stood up as well, regal and proud even when smiling warmly. "And don't forget, you're always welcome within my kingdom, not even Albus Dumbledore can decide otherwise." Good to know.

"I don't really know what I've done to deserve all this… help…" Ron started, genuinely confused by how his day had come to an end. "But, thank you, again… You can't imagine how much this means to me."

"I can, which is why I want to help you," the High Mother said simply, not elaborating further. "Goodluck, Ronald Weasley. I will order the Oracles to fast for seven days, to ensure your victory in the eyes of the Goddess and the Monarch-"

"Um, there's no need to starve anyone over me-" Ron tried quickly.

"They deserve it," the High Mother stopped him, a tinge of cold seeping into her voice. "Let them starve."

Abadie shook his head subtly at Ron, telling him not to ask further questions. Sure, I'd rather stay clear of Veela politics, even if I like this witch. "Mother, may I escort you back to the Ivory Court?"

"Why don't you take me somewhere nicer, Johan?" the High Mother asked in response, teasing Abadie and pinching his cheek, while he gave her the dullest of looks. "I just escaped; can't I have one day outside?"

"You may do as you please, Mother," Abadie said, and the High Mother looked to Ron.

"See? They're all like this," the High Mother winked. "Dull as dirt, no sense of adventure and rebellion." I don't know why, but she sounds a little lonely. At least, to me.

"Those days are gone, mother," Abadie reminded her. "The world has been tamed, for the most part."

"Don't I know it," she sighed out. "No more forbidden loves, no more traveling the land and exploring its people, no more grand tales of good against evil… We Veela have become simple housewives, or worse, ambitious bureaucrats. We traded our freedom for security and luxury, and it was the worst mistake we ever made as a species…"

The High Mother then shook her head, giving Ron one last pitiful smile. Yeah, she doesn't want to go home… I know that look anywhere, it's mine. In the past, Ron would've gone out of his way to invite her out; he was always a people pleaser, after all, but now? Not my problem, I've gotten in enough trouble with the French for one lifetime.

"Goodbye, High Mother," Ron stepped aside, acknowledging her title out of respect. "And just you watch, I'll save Tracey with the help you've given me. I'll tell my friends about you, and we'll visit you one day soon." You can't help yourself, can you? You're so fucking pathetic; it's actually getting sad.

"Then, I'll be waiting eagerly for my next copy of The Quibbler to announce your triumph," the High Mother looked a little happier at the prospect of hosting fresh faces within her home.

"You… You have a subscription to my magazine?" Ron asked, why was he so touched by that?

"It's a good product, with new, modern perspectives aimed at issues that plague not only Magical England, but the entire Wizarding World," the High Mother answered, getting ready to depart. "I think it's past-time that wizards and witches saw the damage they do to our shared world, and if it takes one of their own to show them this harsh truth; then who am I to question destiny? I believe you were put on this Earth to bring about great change, Ronald Weasley. I can feel it, as a mother and a queen." We are the Avatar of Change, so yes… Change is upon the horizon.

"I think so too," Ron smiled back, she had no idea how right she was. "Goodbye, I hope we see each other soon."

"We will," she promised, shooting him a wink as she walked past. "I just need to find some way to shake off those hags…" The Oracles? She really doesn't like them, does she? Strange.

Ron watched quietly as Abadie and the High Mother departed from the room, with Abadie shooting Ron one last look before he too departed for the mountain. I don't know how I feel about him right now. I need to talk to Emilia, first, that's all I know. If she can't accept him, then I can't either.

"But before all that…" Ron looked around to see where Cromwell had taken Christina. I can't believe this all worked out.

---

Twenty Minutes Later

"You will never speak of this to anyone, am I understood?" Cromwell warned Christina, who had gone into shock, despite her body being restored. "If you tell your friends, I will hunt them down. If you tell your Elves, I will slit their throats in the markets. If you tell your mother and father… Then, Johan will visit them in dead of night, not me." Merlin, she gets it. She's shaking from fear, do you really need to bring Abadie up?

Ron said nothing, however; he rather she suffered a little now than get in his way and die in the future. If she had come after me even a week ago, I would've bashed her brains out. That's how lucky she got… Let Cromwell threaten her a little more, she needs it.

"Take a good look at him, girl," Cromwell went on, gesturing towards Ron. "He saved your life, get that into your head right now. Because I would've killed you without hesitation, while Johan… He would've handed you over to Emilia Travers, the witch who beheaded her own great-aunt."

Christina sobbed at that, hugging herself and shrinking from Cromwell.

"Okay, I think she got the message," Ron stepped forward, while Cromwell's glare burned through Christina's husk.

"Send her on her way, I have a feeling I'll be seeing her soon," Cromwell said, walking away.

"N- No! No, yo- you… w- wo- won't!" Christina began panting, as if struggling to breathe. "I w- won't say an- anything-!" What's wrong with her?

"Stop that!" Cromwell frowned. "I won't put up with it a second time."

"What's she doing?" Ron asked, was she having a panic attack? No, she's just not breathing right! "Cromwell, something's wrong with her; she's still struggling to breathe."

"Leave her, she started that nonsense before," Cromwell waved a dismissive hand, while Christina fell to her knees; clutching at her chest.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Ron quickly kneeled down. "Tell me!"

"C-Can't breathe…" Christina wheezed, her throat and face had gone bright red. "Si- Sick… Hurts to- breathe…" You're sick?

"With what?" Ron asked quickly, looking to Cromwell. "See, she's sick, you daft cunt! Go and find help!"

"No," Cromwell refused, staring at Christina with unwavering eyes. "She recovered before; she will recover again. No one can know that she was here."

"Are you fucked in the head?!" Ron hissed, putting his arm around Christina without thought. I have you, I'll find us some help! "Her dying is the bigger issue here!"

"Then, go, get help," Cromwell said, tossing Ron his Cypress Wand. "My work here is done. Return my wand." Stone-cold son of a bitch!

"Fucking arsehole," Ron ripped the wand from his pocket and threw it at Cromwell, but he caught it with one hand. Fuck! I was aiming for his head!

Wasting no time, Ron made to lift Christina up, but she dug her fingers into his arm, coughing and wheezing horribly. She's definitely panicking, now! What do I do?! If I pick her up, she might claw my face off!

"It's okay," Ron tried being gentle out of necessity, giving her shoulders a tender squeeze. "No one is going to hurt you; this will all be behind you very soon. You never have to think about this again, you never have to see Abadie, or, his goons again. You're going to be safe, Christina. You're going to see your parents soon, focus on that, okay?" Is this working?

She was still struggling to catch air, but she was also trying her best to focus on his voice. That was good enough for Ron, who continued muttering whatever words of comfort sprang to his mind. Cromwell departed not long after, no doubt in search of his client; leaving Ron to his own devices.

It took a long time for her to calm down, as she had only really stopped due to tiring herself out. Ron had simply sat with her, in the end, holding her up against his chest and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. Her ragged breaths had reminded Ron of Emilia's, but he felt no anger towards Christina anymore. Why? Why am I helping her?

Maybe it was because he had survived the day, when at first, he had been certain of his demise? Or, maybe it was because he was one step closer to saving Tracey from Death's clutches, thanks to the Queen of all bloody Veela? Or, maybe it was simply because Ron had seen Christina vulnerable, and that had reminded him of his recent mistakes? It doesn't matter, I feel as though I did the right thing. Christina is no Death-Eater; she's just an entitled brat, who also happens to be sickly-

"Thank you… Lord Weasley," Christina whispered, interrupting Ron's thoughts. "I'm sorry for everything, please… don't tell my mother and father…" she trailed off, too ashamed to finish her sentence. Lord Weasley? Fucking again?

"My name is Ron, we Weasleys are no Lords," Ron told her. "Just catch your breath, and then go home. Abadie will be back any moment, now. The High Mother gave him the hospital for betraying Richelieu."

Christina tensed up at that, and Ron mentally berated himself for bringing up Abadie, especially now that she had calmed down. Even I don't have the patience to sit through this again. Probably. Fuck, I would do it, wouldn't I? I'd just sit here like an idiot!

Burying his self-loathing, Ron helped Christina up to her feet. Her legs were shaky, and she held onto his arm too tightly, but he could tell that she needed support just to take the smallest of steps. I wonder what she has… It was a bit bizarre, it's like she forgot how to breathe. That happens to me sometimes, when I have my stress attacks, but never so bad that I'll die before taking in a breath.

"If you're worried that I'll tell people about… whatever that was… Don't be," Ron said, stopping them at the fireplace. "Just stay away from me, and you'll live a much happier life. Believe me."

She said nothing, her raspy breaths and shrunk figure told Ron that she was too ashamed and afraid to form proper words anyway, and as such; what more was left to discuss?

Saying nothing, Ron turned to be on his way, surely there was a proper exit? I'll take the Portkey back to Hogwarts, and from there, I'll return to the Burrow. I didn't expect my day to be so… eventful, but I think I came out on top, all things considered. Tomorrow, I'll find a time to sneak back to Hogwarts and steal Fawkes. Yeah… That's not going to end well for me. Fuck it, that's tomorrow's problem. All I want right now is a hot bath, and to tuck Lysander in bed later tonight.

---

Author's Notes: I hope you guys enjoyed that, it's a bit of a standalone chapter, as I needed to lay more groundwork for Ilvermorny, and particularly the Sacred Tree, which is a real thing in HP Universe, look it up =)

I'll post again soon, but I'm not confident in giving a schedule just yet. Never know when I'll lose all steam again, but hopefully, it won't come to that.