AUTHOR'S NOTES: I am an Uncle! My baby neice is too cute for this world!
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 a couple more Ron fics out that are on point! They're called 'There and Back Again' by Chuchi Otaku, and 'Cooking Like a Bachelor' by Avatar Vader. Please, go check 'em out! You won't regret it, spread the Ron love, people!
P.S: Starway Man is a chad! (I'm never removing this)
Fate
Chapter 150 – Picking up the Pieces
Ronald Weasley's POV
Tuesday 6th April, 1994 (The Burrow – Evening)
"The Rask Family, currently headed by Lord Conrad Rask…" Ron read in a low whisper, sitting at his childhood study desk. "…is arguably the most influential in Magical Germany. Owning thirteen homes across the Wizarding World, four of which are grand villas, they are in the business of selling natural resources directly to the German Ministry and the Goblins residing within Mount Zu…gspi…tze… Zugspitze! Fuck me… This prosperous business, which has been cultivated for eight generations, has allowed Lord Rask to build strong ties with both the current German Minister, Maximillian Weber, and the current Goblin King, Klierukz the Absolver, and it is through these bonds that the Rask Family exercises its power over Germany's Muggle population. As of this report's conception, four of their ten most cost-effective mines are run solely by captured Muggles, with an informant confirming that these Muggles are kept under the Imperius Curse-"
Ron stopped reading abruptly and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with his spare hand. What the fuck? Why? Just… Fucking why? I don't bloody understand… You're already set for life, so why do you have to go down this route? You really hate Muggles that much? Or, do you just enjoy cruelty?
His gloved hand absentmindedly played with a vial of the Calming Draught, whilst his baggy eyes lingered on the open file before him. It had been several days since his last one, and all he could think about was popping open the vial in his hand and chugging its contents down. He was desperate for the tranquillity that would swiftly follow, and yet, despite his desire to give in to his urges, he continued to resist. They're not good for me. I really shouldn't abuse them the way I've been doing lately… But without them, I feel like I can't control myself anymore. Reading these horrible files, thinking about the American Aurors, wondering what the Dark Lord's planning… I feel like I'm at the end of my wits. All these twisted bastards I'm reading about, they're all going to flock to his side, aren't they? What choice will they have when I start ousting them and their practices? I could try assassinating them, but they're not stupid… They'll catch on to what's going on, and they will most definitely retaliate. Plus, if their friends and kin start dying, the survivors will become even more eager to join his army. Not to mention the risk of me getting caught and being sent to Azkaban by the European Aurors… So, how exactly am I supposed to dismantle centuries worth of this shit all by myself? It's bloody impossible!
Ron looked up to the ceiling as he sunk into the chair, groaning tiredly. He needed a plan of attack that would minimalize retaliation on himself, and more importantly, his family. These people don't fuck around, and if they can't get to me, they'll go after my parents and siblings. They'll go after everyone I care about just to hurt me, and I'll have no way of predicting who's in danger. Is it fair of me to jeopardize their safety for my mission? My friends, my family… Little Lysander… What if he gets hurt because of me kicking over a hornet's nest? I don't think I could live with that-…
A sudden knock at his door interrupted his gloomy thoughts, and Ron lifted himself up off the chair. "Coming… Give me a second…"
He pocketed the Calming Draught in his hand, and then, he Wandlessly packed the files up, all of them floating into their respective trunks, which then sealed themselves shut. Once he was at the door, Ron drew in a deep breath and prepared himself, before opening the door as the Champion of Fate. Wait… What are you doing here?
"Madam Pomfrey…" the Champion blinked, visibly taken aback. "I'd say it's nice to see you, but that wouldn't be honest of me… What are you doing here?"
"Your mother came to me, hysterical, while I was in a meeting with another student-" she started, her expression stern as always.
"Draco… He has his sessions with you on Tuesdays," the Champion remembered, and Madam Pomfrey gave a short nod. "Is this about me tossing Charlie in the mud? If so, then you can turn around and go back to Hogwarts. I'm not sorry for what I did, nor will I allow you to convince me that it was my fault. He got what he was asking for, the git."
"He asked to be nearly choked to death?" Madam Pomfrey asked. Nearly choked to death… What a fucking soft-cocked pansy. I barely even squeezed.
"Yes," the Champion answered plainly. "I told him to leave me alone, but he started yelling about me no longer respecting his authority as the older brother. I figured it was best to simply ignore his tantrum, but then he grabbed me and tried to drag me inside the house. It hurt." The Champion pulled his left sleeve back, revealing a fresh bruise in the shape of a large hand circling his wrist. "Don't forget, he's put his hands on me before. He's always been the aggressive sort, so I decided to speak to him in his language this time around. I'm not the twins, nor am I Percy… The next time he gets aggressive with me, he'll remember that I only need one hand to fuck him up."
Madam Pomfrey reached forward to get a better look at his wrist, but he yanked his hand back out of instinct. "Ronald…" Fuck, that was rude, wasn't it? "Do you think I would hurt you?" No, you're not like that.
"…Sorry," the Champion put his hand forward, again, averting his gaze a little. "I didn't mean-"
"You don't like being touched, I know," Madam Pomfrey said gently, her eyes and hands studying his bruise. "Why didn't you heal this, Ronald? You know your way around basic Healing Magic, don't you?" The Champion said nothing, also staring at his wrist. "Are you punishing yourself, perhaps?" How could she-…? Damn, she's too good at figuring me out. I don't like that.
"What? No…" the Champion lied. "I already told you, I didn't do anything wrong."
"You may not have started that fight, but you did lose control," Madam Pomfrey said, squeezing his wrist a little.
"Oi!"
"Don't be a baby, I just need to be sure," she clicked her tongue, letting go of his hand. "It's nothing serious, and it'll heal on its own in a couple of weeks, but I think you should let me-"
"No," the Champion refused, he was adamant about teaching himself control through pain. I let that ingrate get a rise out of me… I need to be able to think clearly in all situations, otherwise, I'm fucked.
"Stubborn as a mule," Madam Pomfrey sighed out, deciding not to press him. "May I come in? It's rude to keep a lady waiting at the door." A lady? You?
"Why?" the Champion asked, frowning suspiciously. "If you're here to have a session with me-"
"That's exactly why I'm here," Madam Pomfrey all but declared, not one to beat around the bush. "I've heard some troubling things lately, and they've given me reason to believe that you are regressing since our last session." Regressing? Going mad would be a more accurate description, but I think a little madness is exactly what's needed in these times.
"Troubling things, eh?" the Champion's frown deepened. "Draco's been running his mouth to you, has he?"
"He is worried about you, yes," Madam Pomfrey admitted. He is? Or, is he worried that I won't deliver his pathetic letters to his degenerate mother, anymore? I bet, it's the latter. "And no, this is not a betrayal of your trust in any way. Draco has every right to tell me of his concerns during our sessions. How else am I meant to help him?"
"Then, go help him, please," the Champion countered. "Leave me be."
"Give me thirty minutes," she negotiated, raising her hand as soon as he went to decline. "Just thirty minutes, Ronald. If you feel that I've wasted your time by the end of our talk, then I will stop chasing after you entirely. I will go downstairs and tell your mother, who is worried sick about you, that you are perfectly fine." Really? That would get her off my back, or, at the very least, buy me a few days of peace…
"You would lie to her for me?" the Champion asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I'm saying I need a session, or, anything." Careful, old boy, she's a clever old bat. Don't let her trick you.
"I have a strong feeling that I won't need to," Madam Pomfrey answered, and after mulling it over, the Champion stepped aside. It's better than staring at those files, I suppose… I genuinely need a break from them, or, I'm going to fling myself out of the window.
"Come in, then," the Champion said, trying to figure out a way to play the Medi-Witch. Thirty minutes… I can totally keep it together for thirty minutes.
Madam Pomfrey made her way inside, looking about the room as if she were interested in every single aspect of it. "Why is the light not on, Ronald? Were you resting?"
"There's plenty of natural light," the Champion waved a dismissive hand at the window, before shutting the door and locking it.
"It's raining outside," she looked to him, her face expressionless. Fuck! That's why I'm in here and no longer out there… How could I forget that? "The light hurts your eyes, doesn't it? When was the last time you slept properly?"
"A few days ago," the Champion muttered, moving over to his bed and sitting on its edge. "Sit, please. Let's get this over with."
"Very well," Madam Pomfrey pulled up his chair, sitting across from him. "Let's start with happened to you during your trip to the States, shall we?" Woah! We're going straight there?! And, more importantly, what does she know about my trip?
"Aren't you going to ask me how I've been feeling lately?" the Champion asked in response. "Usually, we ease into things-"
"Usually, yes, but seeing as this is an unusual session, we can skip the formalities," she replied, her gaze piercing. "I only have thirty minutes with you, and I don't plan to waste a second of it. So, answer my questions, and please, try your best to be honest. Remember, you're only hurting yourself by lying to me."
"Right…"
"What happened in the States?" Madam Pomfrey asked, again. "Draco tells me that you returned angry and bitter… That, before your trip, you seemed to be doing better, especially with Tracey's miraculous recovery. What happened? What changed?"
"Nothing happened," the Champion answered, maintaining eye-contact. "Nothing changed-"
"Ronald, please…" Madam Pomfrey sighed out, giving him a meaningful look. "Have I ever betrayed your secrets? Have I ever shared what you and I discuss with anyone?" …No… "Please, talk to me about what really happened. If you let your emotions fester inside you, instead of facing them head-on, they will continue to have power over you." The Champion remained silent, refusing to think of Octavia ever again. "I know you're afraid, I can see it behind your eyes… But fear is not a good enough reason to shut yourself away from the world. It is not a good enough reason to abuse substances that numb you. It is not a good enough reason to stop living."
"I should embrace my fears, then, eh?" the Champion muttered under his breath, thinking of standing underneath the Gateway to Divinity. "I've heard that before…"
"Your fears are a part of you, and accepting this truth is important, but they should not define you," Madam Pomfrey said sagely. "Fear is an emotion that must be conquered, it is not an emotion that should be given free reign. If it is, then it will always-"
"Have power over me, I get it," the Champion finished for her, silently disagreeing. "What do you know of fear, Madam Pomfrey? Have you ever experienced it before? And I mean true fear… Have you ever found yourself in a situation so horrible, so unnatural, that you dread to even recall it?" If not, then you could never understand how I feel, and this 'session' really is a waste of my time.
Madam Pomfrey leaned back, something changing in her demeanour. "…Yes, Ronald… I've felt that kind of fear before. Fear that most couldn't fathom even if they wanted to." Really?
"Do you ever talk about it?" the Champion asked. "Do you ever discuss it with your friends and family? With strangers?"
"No," she replied honestly, and the Champion sneered. Hypocrite!
"Then, what right do you have to give me this advice?" the Champion asked coldly. "I'm not your patient, anymore. I haven't been your patient for a good while. You're not even here in any official capacity, you're only here because my mother dragged you into our affairs once again. So, why should I listen to your horseshit? It's easy to expect me to open up when you don't have to do it yourself, is that it? To dig up memories that are best left forgotten?" I don't want to think about that fucking mountain ever again, and I don't want to think about her! She's dead! I can't help her, anymore, no matter how much I want to! I failed her, and I have to live with that for the rest of my miserable life! Why the fuck do I have to discuss it too?! What's there to even discuss?! "If you don't practice what you preach, then why are you preaching it to me? Why do I have to give you thirty minutes of my day for advice that you yourself don't follow?"
Madam Pomfrey stared at him thoughtfully, and then, she drew in a long breath. "You're right… Sometimes, I forget that I ask people to open up deep wounds, to make themselves vulnerable before me, all the while keeping my experiences hidden from them. It's a part of my job, you see, to be dethatched on some level. It's a way to protect myself and those I'm trying to help, to remain objective towards my patients. However, right now, you don't need a Mind-Healer who's only doing her job… What you really need is someone who can understand you on a more personal level. You need a friend, and if that's what I have to be for my words to reach you, then so be it." She then drew in another long breath, looking towards the window and the rain outside. "Not many know this, but I had a brother… He drowned when I was ten…"
"…What?" the Champion blinked, losing his sneer in exchange for shock. Drowned? Hold on, she had a brother?! Since when?!
"He was six, and my mother asked me to look after him while she went to the shops," she continued; her voice soft, but not weak. "I made him a bath because I didn't want him pestering me… He was always finding reasons to come into my room, to play with my toys and steal my books… He infuriated me." Madam Pomfrey then looked back to him, appearing more human than he'd ever seen her. "By the time I realized that too much time had passed, it was too late… I found him floating face-down, and I knew I was the worst person to ever live… The worst sister anyone could've asked for." Merlin… That's-… Fucking hell…
The Champion averted his gaze, thinking of Fred's battered body from his very first vision. So… She does know…
"…I'm sorry," the Champion muttered, regretting making her remember such a memory. "…I didn't-"
"My father told me it wasn't my fault, but my mother never forgave me," Madam Pomfrey went on, and the Champion could do little but stare at his lap. "Their marriage fell apart soon after, and I…" she paused. "I closed my heart to it all. I refused to think of my brother for a very long time, because every time I did, I felt as though my heart was going to shrivel up and die… I was afraid of him, of his memory, and so, I tried to cut him out of me as if he were a disease. My friends at Hogwarts never knew that I carried such a burden, such guilt, and once I graduated and found myself working as an Apprentice Healer, my co-workers were no different. I kept such a big part of who I was hidden from everyone, even from myself, because I was afraid of confronting it."
"Is your brother the reason why you became a Healer? To honour him?" the Champion asked, and she gave a short nod. So, her whole life was determined by one awful experience… That's not so different from myself, when I think about it. I saw Fred dead in that vision, and ever since then, I've just been fighting like some rabid dog to make sure I don't have to see anything like it ever again-…
"It always felt as though I had control over my choices, that I was writing my own story, but the truth is that my guilt was writing it for me," Madam Pomfrey said in a whisper, breaking him out of his thoughts. "So many doors in my life closed without me even noticing, and by the time I did, those doors were shut forever. That's what happens when you hide from yourself, Ronald… You fail to see the road you're traveling on, and it leads to places from which you can never return." I see… Maybe, she's right? I mean, I don't think I can see the road I'm on… At least, not fully. I've no idea where it's taking me, but I do know how it ends… It ends broken and bloody. Not just for me, but for anyone who crosses my path. Is-… Is that what I really want? Or, is that what Fate wants? I honestly can't tell, anymore…
"…What made you change your mind, then?" the Champion spoke up, wondering whether he'd already reached the point of no return. "What made you confront your fears?" And how do I do it? Does it always hurt this much?
"My father's passing," Madam Pomfrey replied, smiling sadly. "His last words were of his son, of his fondest memories of their short time together. It made me realize that, although my brother had died tragically, there were still memories of him that mattered to me. Tucking him into bed, reading him bedtime stories, feeding him, chasing him around the house… He had the most beautiful laugh, and I'd forgotten it just to protect myself." Octavia had a beautiful laugh too… And she was strong, and kind, and so full of hope… What she did for Tracey, it would be a terrible sin to forget that.
"I'm sorry you had to go through something so horrible," the Champion murmured, imagining a young Pomfrey discovering her brother's lifeless body. "Losing your brother at that age… I can't even begin to imagine that kind of pain." At least, for me, it was just a vision, but for her, it was reality. A living nightmare.
"Pain is a necessity in life, I've learned," Madam Pomfrey shared. "Without it, how can we appreciate the good things? How do we know what happiness is if we've never experienced sadness? How do we know we're being brave if we've never been afraid of anything?"
"We can't, I suppose…" he thought about her words, both of them sitting in silence for over a minute. If pain really is necessary, then what's the point of being the Champion? I mean, ever since I accepted that name, I've felt empowered in a way I never have before, like I could do anything I wanted without a care in the world, but that still hasn't stopped me from being miserable. It hasn't stopped me from having doubts and fears. It hasn't stopped me from being angry all the fucking time… Maybe, my problem isn't with my name at all, but rather, who I've become? And the things I have to do? Terrible things… Things I'm ashamed to even think about most of the time… Everyone my age gets to fuck around, gets to enjoy their life, but me? I'm spending my days wondering what a madman is scheming across the world… Terrified of when he'll return and jeopardize everyone's safety for his mad ambitions…
"What happened in the States, Ronald?" Madam Pomfrey asked a third time, and his hands clenched into fists. Pain is a necessity in life… Pain is a necessity in life… Pain is a necessity in life…
"…I failed to help someone, and she died…" he confessed, feeling his eyes sting, already.
"Who was she? What was her name?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her voice gentle and soothing.
"A Dryad named Octavia… She was the Guardian of Ilvermorny," he recalled, thinking of their very first meeting. "She was unlike anyone I've ever met… She was… special…" Special, and dead as a doornail.
"How was she different?"
"She was kind when she didn't have to be, even after I threatened her and her forest…" he answered, remembering how much relief and joy he'd felt when she had gifted him a Silver Leaf. "At first, I thought she was just naïve, but the more I learned about her, the more I came to realize that she was a genuinely pure soul… She didn't have any ambitions of her own, she didn't feel the need to elevate herself above anyone, and she cared for those around her… Around her, and far away… I…" he paused, his face feeling slightly warmer. "…I admired her…"
"Admired?" Madam Pomfrey asked, and he felt a cold pit form in his stomach.
"…I think, I fancied her…" he all but whispered, his throat tightening. "…But my feelings for her were… I don't know how to describe them… They felt wrong, even though I didn't act on them… I mean, I hardly knew her, and being a Dryad, she had no love for clothing-" he stopped, feeling terribly uncomfortable all of a sudden. Is that why I had them? Because I saw her naked a few times? What's wrong with me…?
"You found her attractive, Ronald, which is a perfectly natural thing," Madam Pomfrey assured him. "And, although you 'hardly knew her', she clearly held values that resonated with you, and in my experience, it's not uncommon for strong feelings to develop quickly between like-minded people. You should not be ashamed of these feelings-"
"Really? Even after Daphne?" he asked bitterly. "After what I did to her?"
"You devastated those who love you when you attempted suicide, true, but you were in pain too," Madam Pomfrey tried. "Your circumstances, your pre-existing conditions… What happened between you and Daphne isn't as simple as you're making it sound, and, if you want to move forward with your life, you need to forgive yourself for what happened." No. I don't forgive, and I don't forget. She screamed and cried her heart out right in front of me, and that only happened because I was selfish and cowardly. "Ronald?"
"Forgiveness should be reserved for better men than myself…" he simply stated, looking away. "We're moving on from this…"
"…Very well," she sighed out, knowing that she wasn't going to change his mind over one conversation. "Tell me more about Octavia, then. What caused her death?"
"Her nature…" he answered, feeling rage begin to bubble under his skin. "The concept of selfishness, of greed, was entirely lost on her. She was pure-hearted, and… Well, some slippery cunts used that against her… Manipulated her into doing something incredibly stupid. They made her believe that they shared in her plight, but they never truly cared about what she wanted. Their sole ambition was to preserve their own home, their own power, and so, they turned her into their pawn. They sacrificed her… Murdered her…"
Madam Pomfrey blinked, obviously missing a few key pieces of the puzzle. "Sacrificed? Who were these people? Cultists? Dark Wizards?"
"They weren't people at all," he drew in a sharp breath. "They were Horned Serpents, a nest of them living under Mount Greylock."
"Horned Serpents?!" Madam Pomfrey looked even more lost. "Merlin's Beard, Ronald… What exactly did you get yourself involved in?" A right fucking mess, but it had to be done. Too much was at risk for me to ignore it. Damn… Should I just tell her everything? I can always leave out the bits with the Headmaster and Professor Snape. I don't need her looking into what we three are doing together. She'd just get in our way.
"Don't you have to get back to Hogwarts?" he asked, still unsure of letting her in, and she gave him a warning look in response. I'll take that as a no… I guess, I have no choice, anymore, because I've already said too much.
"I'm not going anywhere until you elaborate on what you just told me." Fine, then, I'll 'elaborate', but I'm going to get more out of this than just therapy. She's interested in the story, I can see it clear as day, which means that it's my turn to negotiate.
"All right… But, after we're done here, you'll go downstairs and tell my family to start minding their own business. I've no more patience left for people who get in my way, and they've always had a habit of butting in when I don't want them to. Going forward, I want that to stop. Deal?"
"I don't think I can agree to that-"
"Then, kindly, get the fuck out," he pointed to the door. "You came here to help me; I didn't seek you out. I'm content to keep going on with my life without your input. Can you claim the same?" You can't, can you? It's just not in you to walk away from someone you want to help, is it? Not after what happened to your brother.
Madam Pomfrey frowned deeply, before shaking her head to herself. "Always playing some angle, aren't you?" It's why I'm going to win. "Very well… I'll bite, but in return, you must promise to see me once a week. Even if you're pressed for time, as you often are, you will still find time for me. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to fully isolate yourself. Not for anything." Oh, for fuck's sake… She's just as relentless as me… I resent that! Still, her offer saves me more time in the long run, I suppose. I'll take it.
"Fine… Once a week, I promise. For one hour."
"One hour, unless you ask for more." I won't.
One Disturbing Tale Later
He had told her everything…
His reasons for going to Ilvermorny in the first place, his first meeting with Octavia, his promise to help her save her land, his descent into the mountain, his dream of a world set free from its burdens, his rejection of his imaginary daughter and family, his attack on the Horned Serpents' inner-sanctum, and finally, his butchering of those who wanted him enslaved to their power.
Madam Pomfrey had listened quietly for the most part, occasionally gawking in disbelief, but by the end of it all, she looked more disturbed than anything else. She believed him, he could tell, though she must've sorely wished that she couldn't.
"Well?" he broke the silence, still pacing by the door whilst absentmindedly massaging his right forearm. "Got any advice for me, do you? How do I feel better? Where do I even start?" Just face it, woman, some injuries never heal. You just have to live with them, no matter how much they hurt. You, of all people, should know that.
"Ron… What you've just told me…" she started, letting out a shaky breath. "The truth about Tracey's recovery, the Curse that threatened millions, your dream…" she then swallowed thickly. "Killing every Horned Serpent in that mountain… How can you possibly claim that everything is all right when you just went through something so traumatic? Something that would haunt men five times your age? How can you even think it?" What else am I supposed to do, then? Break down crying? Sit with you and whine about it? Do you have any idea how many Spells I could've practiced in the last hour?
"What's the point of dwelling on it?" he asked in response. "What does that solve, exactly?"
"Dwelling on it solves nothing, but discussing it does," she countered. "Ron, your dream, for example, is what you sincerely want out of life… You told me that you were happy, truly happy, and that's important! Just because it came from a terrible source doesn't change the gravity of this revelation-"
"You think I'm going to survive long enough to make that dream come true?" he asked, looking at her as if she were stupid. "It was a reminder of everything I can never have! Yeah, it felt amazing when I was in it, but now, everything else feels like shit!" And no matter what I tell myself, it's never going to become a reality! It's all just delusions to spare myself from the horrible truth! I even lie to myself, now! That's how pathetic I've become!
"It feels that way because you are only focusing on what you can't have, not on what you learned," she told him, and he grit his teeth. Learned what?! That Horned Serpents are evil fucks who can rape your mind?! "Your dream wasn't just about having a family of your own, not from what I heard. You were happy because you didn't feel trapped, because you didn't feel the need to be someone you're not." I know that! It doesn't take a genius to figure that out! "This façade of strength, this mask you wear to show the world that you're unstoppable, it didn't exist in your perfect world. You were just like the rest of us, not some hero gallivanting around the world helping every sorry soul that he meets-"
"That's because, in that world, I didn't need to be this way!" he snapped, losing his patience entirely. "You think I want to be like this?! A stress-addled, mental, spiteful lunatic?! Guzzling down dangerous potions just so I can fucking function?! You think I haven't thought about what you're saying a thousand times over?! I'm not stupid, I know exactly why I'm so unhappy! But if I become like the rest of you, if I start sticking my head in the fucking sand, people will die! Just look at Octavia, for Merlin's sake! If I wasn't who I am, she would have never come to me! She wouldn't have told me that the States were in so much danger! I saved millions of lives! And your advice is to be more like you?! To ignore the wrongs I see at every fucking corner?! You… You're all…" he gnashed his teeth, shaking from rage. "You fucking… When I think about you lot… You 'normal' people… I fucking hate you so much! You, my sanctimonious parents, my pigheaded siblings, my ungrateful and lazy friends, everyone I've ever met! I despise you cunts from the bottom of my heart! And yet, I still want nothing more than to be like you! What is wrong with me?! Why am I so fucking pathetic?! Why do I always feel so jealous and angry whenever I see you pricks happy and content?! Fuck me, the only person I hate more than the rest of you is myself!"
"Ronald…" Madam Pomfrey looked horrified, she'd never seen him so enraged before.
"I am this way because of all of you…" he snarled accusingly, his face red and the veins in his forehead popping out. "And I hate who I am… I hate my life, I hate my stupid, freckled face, I hate how wretched I always feel inside! I… I'm just so…"
Words began to fail him; his mind was now entirely filled with nothing but rage and self-contempt. He stood there in front of her, shaking and seething, fighting the urge to smash his own skull open against a wall and be done with it all. Fate, the Entity, Ravenclaw Ron, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, even Poppy Pomfrey… He wished that they would all just disappear. Them, and all other life in existence, just so that he could be alone… Just so that he could have peace and quiet, at last…
Madam Pomfrey rose out of her chair and slowly approached him, looking ready to leap back if he took a swing at her, but when he didn't, she reached forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. He immediately shook it off, eyeing her with murderous intent, but she refused to take the hint. Once again, she took a hold of him by the shoulder, waiting for him to react, but this time, he stood as still as a statue. Visibly relaxing a little, she began to pull him towards her, and although he resisted by dragging his feet, he was in her embrace before long.
She hugged him tightly, while he just stood there with his hands uselessly hanging by his sides. What is… happening…? Why is she not disgusted by me? What's wrong with her? Her bizarre reaction to his venomous hatred spilling out of him was jarring, to say the least, and yet, he didn't throw her off. Instead, he just stood there, shame creeping into his bones for saying such terrible things, for using other people as an excuse to justify his own shortcomings. He knew how bitter he was, how angry and lost, and it wasn't because of people like his parents, or, his siblings, or, even his friends. He was the way he was because he had let the horrors of the world get to him, to bring him low and lose sight of the goodness all around him. Worst of all, however, he had given up on himself, and from that day on, he had forgotten what it meant to be happy with himself, and more importantly, others.
"You can let it out, Ronald," Madam Pomfrey suddenly whispered, and he felt his eyes sting painfully. "Every emotion you've been repressing, just get it out of your system. I'm not going to judge you, and I'm not going to leave you. Just let it all out."
?
He lay on his bed in utter silence, holding Madam Pomfrey's hand as he stared listlessly at the ceiling. Despite his outburst and overwhelming emotions, he had managed to retain some of his dignity by not breaking down into tears. Madam Pomfrey, of course, had encouraged him to do so, but he wasn't sure he could have even if he wanted to. It felt wrong to weep for himself, for his weakness, because crying, wishing that things were different, blaming others… These too were weaknesses, and he had indulged himself enough already. My head feels clearer than it has in weeks… I'm glad she took the time to talk to me, to guide me closer to the light… She's a good woman, this old bat…
"What are you thinking about, Ronald?" Madam Pomfrey suddenly asked, breaking the serene silence.
"…I don't know who I am, anymore…" he replied, feeling both anxious and liberated by admitting it. "Or, rather, who I'm meant to be."
"What's wrong with being Ronald Weasley?" she asked, her brow furrowed.
"Nothing…" he started, missing who he used to be. "There was a time when I was so proud of who I was… Hell, I was even arrogant about it. I felt like nothing could stop me, not even the Gods…" But then, I met her, and she… She fucking broke me… She taught me that things can always get worse. "A lot has happened this year, especially in the last few months, and I don't know… I think, in a twisted sort of way, I've been humbled. I've been forced to realize that bravado and pride can only take you so far in life. You have to make sacrifices to get what you want, and what I want is…" he trailed off.
"Is?" she waited, studying his blank expression.
"The world," he eventually answered, and she cocked an eyebrow. "I want to change the world, Madam Pomfrey. Is that insane? To want something so grand?"
"If you were anyone else, I'd advise you to temper your expectations," she replied, sounding a little amused. "But, time and time again, you've shown me that there's very little you can't do when you set your mind on a goal. Just answer me this, though… If you do end up changing this world, then do you want that change to reflect Ronald Weasley? Or, the person you're forcing yourself to be? The very same person that you yourself despise?" He thought deeply about her words, feeling lost for a response to them. "Throughout our lives, there are moments that shake the foundation of who we are… It happens to everyone, and whenever it does, we can never go back to who we used to be. We can recover parts of who we were, of course, but never all of it. I think, you've had one of those moments recently, and although you're hiding it from me, I can see its effects on you clear as day." Fate… I hope I never have to see her, again.
He looked to the wall beside his bed, hiding his gaze from hers. "…I don't know which pieces are worth recovering, if I'm being honest… What if I choose the wrong ones?"
"Then, you choose the wrong ones, but that's still better than not choosing anything at all," she squeezed his hand. "Your past is a part of you, and the longer you hide from it, the more painful the memories become." I don't want to make the same mistake she did. A wise person learns from their mistake, but the wisest person learns from the mistakes of others. I have to be wise, not just for my sake but for everyone else's as well. Where do I start, though?
He nodded weakly as he came to a decision, closing his eyes. "I… I've been abusing the Calming Draught, again… I want to stop doing that, no matter how hard it is. Can you…? Could you please take all my vials? You can burn them, or, use them up… I don't care, just take them away from me."
"Where do you keep them?" she asked, he could tell that she was pleased by his decision.
"My trunk… There's a box full of them in there."
Madam Pomfrey wasted no time in collecting the box, subtly going through the trunk's contents to make sure that he wasn't hiding any more amongst his clothes. "Ronald… What are these?"
He looked to her, grimacing a little when he saw her holding up his Goblin-Steel bracers. "A gift from a friend. Put them back."
"These are Goblin-Steel-"
"I know what they are," he interjected. "Just put them back, please."
The old witch studied him silently for a few seconds, and then, she put them back where she found them, shaking her head to herself. "What about the other trunks? What's in these?" Should I let her have a look? Let her see what I see?
"There are no Calming Draughts in there," he sat up, moving to the edge of his bed. "Go on, have a look."
Madam Pomfrey shook her head, again. "I trust you, Ronald."
"Don't want to seem overbearing, eh?" he smirked a little, seeing through her tactics.
"That is your mother's job, not mine," she smirked back, holding the box close to her. "This is all of them, then?" No…
"…Here…" he reached into his pocket, pulling out his last vial. "Take it before I change my mind."
"You're doing the right thing," her smirk turned into a smile as she took the vial from him, locking it away inside the box. "You'll be on edge for a bit, but it'll be worth it, I promise." I fucking hope so…
"They numb the pain, but they also numb everything else…" he whispered, as if still trying to convince himself. "Right?"
"Right," she gave a nod, hovering over him. "I will tell your family to give you some space over the next few days, but you must promise me that you will try to control your temper. Do your breathing exercises, just as I taught you. And think about what we discussed today, because we'll be picking up right where we left off." Madam Pomfrey then leaned down, catching his eyes. "You don't have to be anyone but yourself, Ronald. Who that is, of course, depends entirely on you, but it should always be your choice. It can't be anyone else's." My choice… It should be my choice. I'll remember that.
She made her way over to the door, while he fidgeted with his hands anxiously. "Madam Pomfrey… Thank you… And, I'm sorry you had to waste so much time on me today…"
"Helping others is never a waste of time," she smiled from the door. "You and I both know it, don't we?"
He smiled a little at that, before giving a soft nod. "We do."
"Sleep, all right?" she opened the door. "And don't forget our deal. I'll be expecting you."
With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her. He sat still for almost a minute, feeling as though he were a zit that had been drained, before standing up and dragging his chair back to his study desk. I'll finish that file on the Rask Family, and then, I'll sleep. I can't just leave it half-read, that'd be lazy and pathetic. As for falling asleep… Fuck it, I'll just stun myself… That'll work, won't it?
Wednesday 7th April, 1994 (Marco's Cabin – Afternoon)
"You're the strangest lad I've ever come across," Marco muttered in disbelief, staring at Fawkes. "A Basilisk Fang in your vault, a Phoenix on your shoulder, Parseltongue spilling out of your mouth… Who the fuck are you?" Ronald Weasley. I'm Ronald Bilius Weasley. I get to choose who I am, and no one else-… "Lad, are you there?"
"Sorry," he shook his head clear, feeling as though he were naked in front of a crowd. "I'm your client, Marco. Shouldn't that be the only thing that matters?"
"Where did you find it?" Marco asked, doing a circle around him. "Odd… It looks familiar…"
"He is Albus Dumbledore's companion… Stop eyeballing him like that, please. He doesn't enjoy it."
Fawkes shrieked in agreement, glaring at Marco as if he were an insect. Easy, mate. Marco's a friend. Well, not a friend… He's useful, and these days, that's all I can ask for.
"Albus Dumbledore's own pet," Marco chuckled, sounding terribly amused all of a sudden. "Someone should really write a book about you, lad. It'd be an interesting read, I'm certain of it." I doubt that.
"Do you have my wand?" he asked, deciding to limit the small-talk. "It's been days, Marco, and my patience has run its course."
"I have it, but it's not polished yet," Marco gestured him to follow, both of them heading for the hatch leading into Marco's workshop. "Where is your gorilla, by the way? Strange seeing you without him lurking about." I have to do this alone. He'll be pissed about it, but he'll get over it.
"Artyom is preoccupied, but he told me to remind you that there is no escaping him if you cheat me," he answered, climbing down the hatch carefully as to not disturb Fawkes too much. "You wouldn't cheat me, would you, Marco?"
"I'd sooner cheat the gorilla than you, lad," Marco replied, leading the way down the thin, rocky passage. Smart.
"Really?"
"Knowing people is half of me job," Marco explained. "The Russian is cold and hard, but his eyes… His eyes are lost. Like a little boy who doesn't know his way back home. You, on the other hand, have the Devil in you. Behind those pretty, blue peepers of yours sleeps a monster." A monster, he says… He's right. "So, yes, I'd sooner cheat him than you. He'd beat me bloody, but still let me learn from my mistake, whereas you would kill me without hesitation. Am I wrong, lad?"
"…No," he answered, feeling both ashamed and proud of himself. No half-measures.
"See? I know people," Marco shot a smirk back, oddly relaxed despite their grim conversation. "In here. C'mon."
They entered the workshop, and Fawkes began stretching his wings the moment there was room to do so. Don't like being inside tunnels, do you? It's okay. I'm right here. He scratched the Phoenix's belly comfortingly, still following after Marco. We'll be done here soon, I promise.
"Here you are," Marco suddenly exclaimed, eccentrically gesturing towards the wand sitting atop his workbench. "Just needs a good polishing, and then, she'll be ready for whatever's out there."
He inspected the unpolished wand, before tracing his fingers over it. Woah… It feels really warm. No different than my own wands. "It doesn't need polish. It's perfect the way it is."
"Doesn't need polish?" Marco snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Look here, lad… A wand is like a woman, all right? You can wine her, you can dine her, but if you don't fuck her, then she's not going to be happy." …What? "Now, I've wined and dined this beauty already, but she still needs a good fucking-"
"Please, stop talking," he sighed out, fighting the urge to punch the man in his sun-burnt face. "Just hurry it up, will you? I don't have all the time in the world."
Far Too Much Time Later
"Will you finish up, already?!" he snapped, quickly drawing in a sharp breath. "Sorry, sorry… I'm calm… I'm perfectly calm…" He then gave Marco a stern look, and the man smiled back cheekily. "Mate, I've got things to do… People to see… Stop playing cute with me, and just finish up, eh? Before I disembowel you?" Merlin, I'd kill for a Calming Draught right now! It feels like my heart is on fire!
"We just need to let it dry, lad," Marco chuckled, looking back to the wand. "What an absolute beauty! One of my finest yet! You were right! The Snakewood and the fang were a perfect match for each other! Who knew?!" Salazar knew.
"Did you use up all of the fang?" he asked, and Marco shrugged. "That's not an answer."
"I have some shavings left over, and yes, I'm keeping them," Marco said, his voice firm. "Consider it a part of the payment, if you want."
"You still want to make something dangerous out of them?" he questioned further, his disapproval more than evident.
"Mostly, I just want to experiment with them," Marco started. "In my trade, lad, it's rare to find such an ingredient, so I'm not going to waste this opportunity. And, to be perfectly frank with you, it's not my job to tell people how to use their wands. I'm simply a craftsman, that's all."
"How convenient…"
"It is, isn't it?" Marco gave a nod, grinning. "I'm not some saint, all right? I like helping the occasional sod, but I also like gold, and that doesn't make me a monster. It just makes me… sensible." Fucker has an answer for everything, and he loves his own voice. Why am I wasting more of my time on him?
"Do what you will with those shavings, then," he sighed out, not in the mood for a debate. "Just don't sell to Death-Eaters and their lackeys. If you do, I'll do worse than kill you." I'll take your hands from you, 'craftsman'.
"I don't know if you've heard, lad, but the war is long over," Marco gave him a bemused smile. "Death-Eaters and their lackeys, he says… Ha!"
"Do you read the Quibbler?" he asked, his face blank. "Nothing is over."
Marco blinked, and then, he lost his smile. "You're talking about that party, aren't you? Nasty business, that… Just awful. Aurors ought to put 'em all down, I reckon. Just be done with it."
"Finally, something we can agree on," he looked back to the wand, ready to be on his way. "Can we speed up the drying part, at least?"
"Speed up the drying part?! Are you utterly-?!"
"I'll bite off your bollocks, I swear to Merlin."
"…Okay, we can speed up the drying part…"
Wednesday 7th April, 1994 (Ilvermorny – Late Morning)
He stared at the edges of Octavia's forest, his heart climbing into his throat as he imagined her ghost wandering the woods. To distract himself, he squeezed his right forearm hard, feeling fiery pain shoot up his entire arm from his eldritch wounds. She's dead… Dryads can't become ghosts… At least, I don't think they can… But then again, how often am I right about anything? What if she did become a ghost? What would she say if she saw me, again? Merlin, she'd probably spit on me…
He swallowed thickly, his heart beating faster and faster. Fuck, fuck, fuck… Why the fuck did I give away my Calming Draughts?! I'm so fucking stupid! Stupid, short-sighted, and pathetic!
"Thief…" a familiar voice growled from behind him, nearly making him jump.
He quickly turned on his heels, facing the sneering Pukwudgies who had snuck up on him during the beginning of his latest panic attack. Bethzy, right? William's Great-Granddaughter? She was accompanied by three other Pukwudgies, all of three of them aiming their bows at him with burning hatred behind their eyes.
"Why are you here?" Bethzy demanded, her voice venomous. "Haven't you stolen enough from us?!" …What?
"Pardon?" he blinked, drawing in a deep breath to steady his growing nerves.
"You hurt Brightbeak, you stole from the Sacred Tree, and…" she pulled out her daggers, her small, grey hands trembling from rage. "…both the Lady and the Sacred Tree are now dead! You poisonous serpent! We know it was your doing! How dare you return here-?!"
Fawkes suddenly shrieked so loudly that even he covered his ears, whilst the Pukwudgies jumped back from fright. Fucking hell, Fawkes! Relax, will you?!
"Fawkes, don't!" he requested just as the Phoenix stretched his fiery wings, as if preparing to burn the Pukwudgies to ash. "Listen to me, you lot… I'm here to see the Headmaster, nothing more-"
"Liar!" Bethzy accused, her allies regrouping around her. "Begone! We don't want you here!" Just breathe, old boy. Remember what Madam Pomfrey said. Don't lose your temper. Stay in control.
"…Please, this is important," he urged, drawing in another deep breath. "I don't want any trouble, all right? I'll be gone by the end of the hour-"
"You will leave at once, or, you will die where you stand," Bethzy leaned forward, clearly preparing herself to lunge for his throat. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
"…Stop pushing me, please," he all but whispered, feeling more and more on edge. "I'm trying to be civil here, but you're… You don't know what you're on about. Just let me see him, will you?" For your own sakes, get out of my way… Please!
"Benjamin, kill-" Bethzy started, but stopped immediately when William suddenly Apparated between the two parties. William! Thank fucking Merlin!
"Put down your weapons," William growled at his fellow Pukwudgies, much to their outrage. "Do it, now! The Champion is under my protection!" The Champion… Damn…
He averted his gaze, squeezing his right forearm once again.
"Bethzy?" Benjamin looked to her for orders, his bow drawn. "We can't let him enter the castle. Think of the children-"
"Harkin wishes to see him," William took a step forward, glaring into his Great-Granddaughter's eyes. "And if you hurt him, then you are no kin of mine, girl. I will gut you without a second thought. And then, I'll feed your remains to Brightbeak. You will never gaze upon the Great Mother's face, I promise you." Merlin's Beard… Pukwudgies are fucking mental, all of them!
He decided to remain silent, feeling as though he was making William's relationship with his Great-Granddaughter evermore strained by merely existing. No matter where I go, things always turn to shit. It's me… It's my stupid, cunt face… Everything I touch turns to shit-…
"Why does the Headmaster wish to see this… thing?" Bethzy demanded, not backing off as easily as last time. "The day he showed up here, all was ruined! The Lady is dead! And I know it was because of him! We all do!" Octavia… She must've meant a lot to them…
"You know nothing," William growled dangerously. "Step aside, now, or, face my wrath. Even at this age, I can cut you all down within seconds. Do you want me to prove it?"
The Pukwudgies exchanged looks, and then, upon Bethzy's signal, they all moved aside, though their hate-filled eyes remained glued on the redhead. William gestured him to follow, wasting no time in limping towards the castle. He followed silently, focusing on his breathing as he tried his hardest to keep Octavia's black-lipped smile out of his mind. I need a Calming Draught… I feel like I can't fucking breathe without it…
They made their way through the castle in silence, occasionally passing a handful of students loitering about in the hallways, all of them gawking at him as he passed by.
"That's him! That's Ronald Weasley!"
"Is that a fucking Phoenix?! That's so cool!"
"What's he doing here?"
"William's inside the castle? That's new!"
"He's tall… Is he really fourteen?"
"They sure grow them big in Magical Britain."
"What do you think is going on with him and the Headmaster? I saw them leave the games together! Octavia was with them, remember?"
"He looks stupid in that suit… Probably thinks he's better than everyone-"
"Shhh! What if he hears you? Don't be a dick, Brad."
"Yeah, and he's definitely better than you! He's famous across the Wizarding World! Who are you, huh?"
"You think he'll sign my shirt?"
"He looks depressed…"
"I would be too if I were dying…"
"Isn't it his own fault, though? You shouldn't feel bad about someone who delves so deep into the Dark Arts. I know I don't."
"Oh. My. God! His hair is so red! You think he'd date a sexy American gal? We're only a year apart-!"
"Keep it in your pants, Hailey… He's not deaf…"
"What's he doing with the old caretaker?"
"That's such a beautiful bird! I really want to pet it!"
He ignored every comment he heard, keeping his eyes forward as William led him deeper and deeper into the grey-stoned castle. Eventually, they came upon an ebony door, and William stopped abruptly before it. The old hunter turned to face the young wizard, eyeing him up and down. What is it? Why are you staring at me?
"You seem… different, Champion," William commented, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"
"…Do you really have to ask?" he asked in response, his voice tired. "She put her faith in me, William… And I let her down… I couldn't even keep my promise to her, in the end… She died for nothing…"
William remained silent for a few moments, before shaking his head. "No, you are wrong to feel this way. She was tricked, just as we were. Her death was not our doing, but of those vile serpents. You, Albus Dumbledore, and Severus Snape did right by this mountain. You ended two Curses instead of one, and for that, you have my respect. I do not say this lightly, because the thought of respecting any wizard…" he paused, frowning to himself. "You did right by us all. I just wanted you to know that." I see… Is that why he came to fetch me himself?
He didn't know what to say, but the old Pukwudgie's words felt like a soothing balm on an infected cut, bringing him a modicum of relief amidst his crisis of identity. I should thank him, at least. It couldn't have been easy for him to say that to a wizard.
"Thanks…" he managed; his voice barely audible. "For your words, and for helping with the other Pukwudgies. I'm really sorry that you had to threaten your own Great-Granddaughter on my behalf."
William said nothing in response, simply turning around and pushing the ebony door open. He followed the Pukwudgie up the large stairway, which led to an even larger ebony door. It opened on its own as they stopped in front of it, revealing the dimly-lit, dusty office of Headmaster Harkin. The pale, skeletal Headmaster was sitting upon a damaged, marble, thronelike chair, his hollow eyes already fixed on the redhead and the Phoenix on his shoulder. Merlin, what a shithole. Don't the Pukwudgies clean this place? Does he not allow them to?
He made his way further into the office, ignoring his dingy surroundings in favour of keeping his eyes on Harkin. "Good afternoon, Headmaster-"
"It's still morning," Harkin corrected him, the man's voice was barely audible. Right… "Sit."
He did as he was told, eyeing the three grey statues behind Harkin with a mixture of both curiosity and apprehension. A Pukwudgie, a Thunderbird, and a Wampus. Hold on… Where's the Horned Serpent? Looking past Harkin, he saw the broken chunks, big and small, of the Horned Serpent statue scattered across the floor. He blew it up… Fair enough, I suppose.
"What are you doing?" Harkin suddenly asked, and the redhead cocked an eyebrow. Me? "Not you, boy. William, you can leave us, now. Stop touching what is not yours."
"This room was Isolt's before it was yours, Harkin," William growled back, he had started dusting the closest table to the door. "I will not leave it to collect dust and spiderwebs." Did he just say spiderwebs? There are spiders in here?! "Go about your conversation with the Champion. Ignore me, as I plan to ignore you."
Harkin clenched his jaw, but did not argue. Instead, he turned his focus back onto the Slytherin before him, drawing in a sharp breath before leaning back in his throne. Last time we spoke, he was left rattled and terrified. He looks calm, now, though, which is good, but it could just be another act.
"The Ronald I grew so fond of would never attempt to twist a man's grief into a weapon to be unleashed upon others," Dumbledore's voice echoed in his head, making him feel even more wretched. "Instead, he would empathise with said man and bring him peace."
"If you do end up changing this world, then do you want that change to reflect Ronald Weasley?" Madam Pomfrey's voice piled on. "Or, the person you're forcing yourself to be?" Get out of my head, all of you… Just leave me alone…
"He just lost his daughter, my boy," Dumbledore's voice returned, filled with disappointment. Did I even offer Harkin my condolences? No, I didn't, did I? I'm such a piece of shit…
"Do you have it?" Harkin suddenly asked, his expression giving away nothing. "The wand?"
"I do," he replied, pulling out the freshly polished wand from his inner pocket and placing it on the table.
Harkin eyed the wand distrustfully, not making any moves to reach for it. "Your plan is most likely going to fail. You understand that, don't you?"
"I do, but it's still worth a shot," he answered, shifting in his chair. "Headmaster Harkin… I never offered you my…" he paused, straightening up. "I'm sorry for your loss. Truly sorry. Octavia was a bright-"
"Stop," Harkin ordered, still staring at the wand. "You were right… My neglect drove her to the Sages, and now, she is gone forever. Had I been more attentive to her, more present, she would have trusted me with the truth. Her loss is my fault-"
"No, she loved you," he interjected, not wanting Harkin to blame himself for the rest of his life. "When we were in the cave, and you collapsed, she begged me to help you. She called you her father-"
"She did?" Harkin blinked, his mask of indifference cracking for a moment.
"She did," he nodded, meeting Harkin's gaze. "She loved you, and I know you loved her. What happened to her… It wasn't your fault, and I'm sorry that I said it was. That was… That was a shameful thing to say to a grieving father… I'm very sorry."
Harkin studied him in silence for a few moments, and then, he leaned forward. "You're different today. Something has changed in you."
"I was on the Calming Draught last time we spoke…" he confirmed, feeling thirsty at the mere mention of the potion. "I've been abusing it for a while, especially in recent weeks… I'm trying to stop that, and it's really…" he stopped, deciding not to whine to the man. "It doesn't matter… I'm sorry for Octavia, that's all I wanted to say. She was brilliant, and the world is poorer for having lost her."
Harkin looked back to the wand, his eyes becoming distant. "William, can you bring us some tea?"
"Me? Do I look like your servant?" William growled from the back, scoffing. "Get it yourself, wizard."
"Please," Harkin looked to him, giving him a meaningful look. I don't think he's going to do that-…
"…Fine…" William bit out, before mumbling curses under his breath.
The old Pukwudgie Apparated out of the office, leaving the two wizards alone to continue their conversation. He must have questions about my real nature, I reckon. That's why he sent William away-…
"Who are you?" Harkin asked, gazing into his eyes. "What are you? Are you… human? Something else? Are Arthur Weasley and Molly Weasley really your parents? Or, did they find you and adopt you?" Bloody hell…
"I'm their natural son," he assured the man, who listened intently. "I was born to them, just as my siblings were. They gave me a good childhood, even though we were poor. I… I love them very much, though I don't always show them that…"
"And the rest?"
"…I'm human, I think…" he felt terribly uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Mostly human, at least. Some unfortunate events changed me… Made me different. It's a long story, and not a particularly good one."
"I'd like to hear it, if you don't mind."
"Some other day, perhaps…" he knew he'd have his panic attack in earnest if he started recalling his sorry excuse for a life. "I don't really know who I am, anymore… Or, what I'm supposed to be… All I know is that I have to stop the Dark Lord. I have to protect my family and my friends, even if it costs me my life. They're the only good part of me left, and I won't lose them… Not for anything." Maybe, that's enough, right? Yeah, I think that's enough for me. I'm happy to be just someone who wants to protect what's important to him.
Harkin contemplated his words, before nodding softly. "You mentioned the Dark Lord attacked you, that he's the reason behind your scars… Is that what changed you? Made you into… whatever you are."
"No, that just made me uglier, I'm afraid…" he swallowed thickly, not liking where this conversation was going. "Something far more… evil… changed me…"
"More evil that You-Know-Who?" Harkin asked, looking slightly taken aback.
"He's just a man… There's far worse out there in the Universe than him, trust me."
"Universe…?"
"Can we not discuss this, please?" he squeezed his right forearm under the table, drawing in a sharp breath. "I'm feeling on edge as is, and this conversation is going to end with me in a foetal position on your floor." Or, worse, with you on the floor, your head split open… Only Merlin knows what'll happen if I lose control, again.
"…I see," Harkin said, leaning back in his chair, again. "I did not mean to bring up bad memories for you. I've been curious about you since our talk, and I wanted to know why Octavia held you in such high regard." Because she didn't know any better.
"That's fair," he all but whispered. "I'd be curious too."
"Before William returns, there's one more thing I need to ask," Harkin stated, sounding even more serious all of a sudden. "Heitor Reyes…" Fuck! "He came to me the night after you left… He knew of the Sacred Tree's Curse, Mr. Weasley. He knew of the Sages and their hidden home. He knew everything. How? Did you tell him?"
"He's Isolt's long lost descendant," he promptly explained, surprising Harkin. "Martha disappeared, remember? Well, she settled in the south, in the end, and Reyes comes from her. He speaks Parseltongue and everything. The Sages were using him, just as they use whoever runs Ilvermorny, to influence the witches and wizards of the States. What did he want from you, Sir?"
"Answers," Harkin replied, adorning a thoughtful expression. "He asked me about the Sacred Tree and the Sages… Whether they were truly dead, and how such a thing had happened. I told him I had no idea as to why the Sacred Tree had died, and that the Sages were no concern of mine. He was… upset, I think, but I turned him away regardless. A man such as him does not deserve closure." Is that so?
"An Auror, you mean." Well, not an Auror, but close enough.
"The Aurors here are very different from the Aurors of our homeland," Harkin said simply. "They are thugs; violent and ruthless. Their brutality is well-known, but never questioned. And Reyes sits at the top of it all, alongside his Oath-Brother, Jeremiah Wilkinson." Is this how everyone feels? Or, just a select few? I should look more into it when I get the chance. "Tyranny has many faces, you'll find, and quite often, it presents itself as 'safety' and 'prosperity'."
"Do they hurt civilians? Is that what you're saying?"
"No, not unless they believe said civilians to be guilty of a crime," Harkin responded. "However, the worth of a nation can be determined by how it treats its criminals, and in that regard, the States are rotten to the core." The worth of a nation can be determined by how it treats its criminals… I like that… It sounds like something the old man would say. This is what Madam Pomfrey was trying to explain to me, I believe. That if I change the world with brutality and violence, then the world I build will reflect those characteristics. Hm… I don't want that… I don't want innocent people living in fear-… "Mr. Weasley? Are you there?"
"Sorry, I'm a little distracted…" he shook his head clear, giving a sorry smile.
"I can see that," Harkin commented, before opening a drawer of his table and pulling out a small, ebony case. "Here. Take this."
"What is it?" he asked, slightly taken aback. He's giving me a present? What for?
"Take it," Harkin repeated, and he did as he was told.
Opening the case, his eyes went wide from shock. Inside, there was a Silver Leaf, laying peacefully next to a green, shimmering gemstone the likes of which he'd never seen before. What… is this? He's giving me a Silver Leaf? Why? And what's this green stone? Fawkes leaned in from atop his shoulder, eyeing the green stone as if he were utterly mesmerized by it.
"The leaf is for you," Harkin told him, and his head jerked up. It is?! "For your brain-damage, that is. You saved many lives, Mr. Weasley, including those of my students. I am in your debt."
"But Octavia-"
Harkin raised a hand, stopping him short. "Her last words were of you." …What? "Till the end, she admired you, and having looked into you more thoroughly myself, I believe this to be a worthwhile investment. You may be ill-mannered and dangerous, but you are also compassionate and charitable. And you will need every advantage if you are to face a man such as the Dark Lord."
He looked back to the leaf, feeling lost for words. …I don't deserve such a gift…
"Aren't there others that need it more than me?" he asked, looking back up.
"I am working through a list, yes, but I wished to give you one regardless," Harkin answered, his voice and expression devoid of emotion. "And, if your plan does succeed, then there will be plenty of leaves for everyone else. Do with this one what you will, I only wished to repay you for helping end the Curse." Do with it what I will… I could give it to Professor Snape. It could help end his pain, and make him physically strong again.
"Thank you…" he said, unsure of what else to say to such a gesture. "And this stone? Is it a gem?"
"That is Octavia's seed," Harkin replied, jarring him completely. "Well, one of them, at least. Octavia's body produced two, you see. Twins, if you will. It is rare for such a thing to occur, but it does happen. However, unlike us humans, Dryads care not for familial bonds such as sisterhood. Only one Dryad can watch over Ilvermorny's forests, while the other would have to leave and make her home elsewhere." Harkin then drew in a long breath, visibly aging. "…It was my dream to work at Hogwarts when I was a boy, to look after the grounds and the Forbidden Forest. That never came to pass, as life had other plans for me. Please, take this seed to the Forbidden Forest, and bury it deep within. Albus will know how, you can go to him for help. Hogwarts will be better protected with a Dryad guarding her."
"So… This seed… It's Octavia?" he asked, feeling his throat tighten. This is all that's left of her?
"Yes, and no," Harkin replied. "The Dryad born from that seed will have some of Octavia's memories, and the memories of those before, but she will be her own person."
"Won't I need to care for her? She will be a baby-"
"Dryads do not need us, Mr. Weasley," Harkin interjected, looking to the case. "The Forbidden Forest will protect and nurture her, and in time, the roles will be reversed. You need only bury the seed, nothing more."
"I… I don't know what to say…" he managed, sniffling as he closed the case. "I promise, I'll get this done."
"Be certain that you do-"
William suddenly Apparated beside the table, a sneer on his lips and a tray in his hands. "Here's your damn tea. Choke on it." The old Pukwudgie placed the tray on the table harshly, before limping back to his previous work. "Get us tea, William… Act like you're some damn Elf slave dog…" Sheesh… What was Harkin thinking sending him to fetch tea like that? Could've just asked for some privacy like a normal person.
Harkin subtly smirked to himself, as if pleased by William's foul mood. Oh… He was just being a prat… I should go before this turns into a fight between the two.
"I'll be on my way, then," he said, rising out of the chair.
"You'd best drink that tea, boy!" William barked from the back, and he sat right back down. "The nerve…"
"Allow me," Harkin reached forward, taking the teapot and pouring. "You don't want to help bury the wand?"
"Not really…" he admitted, not keen to enter Octavia's forest without her. "I trust you to do it."
Harkin merely gave a nod, both of them taking a cup each. I suppose, a cup of tea is better than no tea at all. Speaking of which, am I going to have to spike Professor Snape's drink? He's not going to accept the leaf, I think. He's too stubborn and proud, and he thinks too lowly of himself. If I offer it to him outright, he'll reject it. I'll have to think about this before I act, it could backfire if I'm not careful.
Wednesday 7th April, 1994 (The Burrow – Nearly Evening)
"Take care of yourself, Fawkes," he smiled gratefully, and the Phoenix shrieked before exploding into orange flames, vanishing off of his shoulder. I hope the old man doesn't mind me calling Fawkes whenever I want to travel, but I've no other choice. My 'roommate' has weakened my body too much for me to travel any other way. Where is he, anyway? Not that I care, to be honest… He just makes me miserable whenever he's around.
Looking down at the case in his hands, he let out a long sigh. "Octavia… Never thought you'd see the Burrow like this… Sorry, but it's the best I could do…"
"Her last words were of you," Harkin's voice rang in his head, making his eyes sting. Why? Why would she be thinking of me in her dying moments? What did I even do for her?
"Ronnie?!" came his mother's voice, and he looked up to see her standing at the entrance. "When did you get back?! What are you doing out here?!"
Deciding not to yell, he began making his way towards the house, stopping in front of her. "I just got back. I was with Fawkes."
"Oh… That explains the fire I saw…" she sighed out, before shaking her head. "You didn't get into any trouble, did you?"
"Not this time, no," he replied, feeling awkward. Why is she blocking the door?
His relationship with his family felt strained, and that was putting it mildly. Charlie was still keeping his distance, shooting dark glares in his direction whenever he wasn't looking. Kirsten had stopped trying to approach him altogether, though he had caught her giving him sorry looks several times. Bill always asked him about his day during dinner, but it felt forced each time. And as for his parents, they were both hesitant to even talk to him for fear of angering him. I want to patch things up with them, but just being around them… It infuriates me. They're so weak and lazy, despite knowing that Voldemort's coming for us all. It's pathetic, and I just can't bring myself to respect any of them anymore. I can't respect who they are as people; ambitionless and proud of it. For all my faults, I, at the very least, put the damn work in. They don't even do that. It's good that Madam Pomfrey told them to give me my space, because I know if they approach me, I'll lose my shit within the hour.
"So… How was your day?" his mother suddenly asked, 'subtly' checking him over.
"Productive," he replied, clutching the case more tightly. "Pardon me, mum, but I'd like to go to my room."
"What's in that?" she asked, not moving.
He drew in a deep breath, hearing Octavia's laughter on the wind. "A gift from a new friend."
His mother kept staring at him, no doubt irked by his vague answers. "Ron, when are you seeing Poppy, again? I think you should go today. She'll be free right about now-"
"Please, don't," he drew in another deep breath, feeling annoyed by the mere thought of being told what to do. "…I will go when I'm ready. Now, step aside. It's cold out." Relax… Don't lose your temper. She's just used to telling her children what to do all the time. She can't make you do anything you don't want to do, no matter how much noise she makes.
Molly deflated, shaking her head in disappointment as she went back inside, leaving him to collect himself before he inevitably followed after her. Not a minute since I've been home, and I can't wait to leave again. As he entered the kitchen, he saw multiple heads at the dining table from the corner of his eyes, and so, he turned to see who was here out of curiosity.
"It's good to see you, again, Ron," Mary smiled, she was sitting with Arthur and Pandora. "How was your day?" Tori… I could give the leaf to Tori! It wouldn't break the Curse on her, but it would improve her health vastly, right?! Give her a bunch more years to live and be happy?! Professor Snape and Tori, they need the leaf more than I do. I'll split it between them-… "Ron? Why are you staring at me?"
Ignoring the child-killer's wife and accomplice, he turned his attention to his father, instead. The man just got home, and he's already got a beer in his hand. Fat. Gluttonous. Lazy. Don't worry, old man, when this house inevitably gets attacked, I'll happily lay down my life for yours… That's my job, right? Not yours?
"Son?" Arthur blinked, feeling intimidated by his youngest son's cold stare.
"Drink less, please," he said softly, using his Occlumency to silence his darker thoughts. "It's not good for you, especially with who is out there."
Arthur looked quite taken aback, while Pandora and Mary exchanged concerned looks. No Lysander… What a shame. I would've loved to spend some time with him today. Deciding to be on his way, he made his way up the stairs and towards his room. As he passed by Charlie's room, he heard Kirsten and his older brother having another argument, both of them yelling at each other like children. He really needs to get a job. He's bored sitting at home all day, and so, he's creating drama to keep himself busy. The least he can do is make Kirsten's life easier, seeing as she's at work all day and then babying him once she's home. What an embarrassing excuse for a man he turned out to be.
Once he had reached his room, he closed and locked the door behind him before taking off his jacket and tie. Merlin… That's better. I'm alone, again. He sat down at his study table and opened the case, picking out the Silver Leaf and studying it with narrowed eyes. Professor Snape added the other one into a Wiggenweld Potion, didn't he? I'm going to have to find out how he did that, I'd hate to waste this opportunity. Also, I need to figure out how I can give the potion to Professor Snape and Tori without getting caught. Tea, perhaps? Or, juice? I'll figure it out.
He put the leaf back inside the case, before pulling out Octavia's seed. It felt warm in his hand, its surface shimmering as he inspected every side of it. This is my room, Octavia. It's not much, but I like it. Actually, did you have a room? Or, a house? Or, did you sleep out in the woods? Under the stars? Wait a second, you didn't even wear clothes, so assuming that you had a house is pretty stupid of me… Sorry. I guess, you must've slept out in the woods with your animal friends. They must really miss you… I barely even knew you, and I miss you.
He moved off of the chair and lied down in his bed, holding the seed close to his heart. Is it weird that I don't want to bury you just yet? It feels nice to have some part of you still around, you know? Ha, I wonder how mum would've reacted if I had brought you into the Burrow, naked and all! She'd have lost her mind!
Ron closed his eyes and smiled weakly, feeling sleepy all of a sudden. I reckon, I'll take a small nap. I can always practice my Occlumency when I wake up. Oh! I'll show you some of my Wandless Magic too! I've gotten really good at it!
Millicent Bulstrode's POV
Thursday 8th April, 1994 (Durmstrang Institute – After Lunch)
As it turned out, there was another level below the ground floor, and much like the dungeons of Hogwarts, it was a cold and isolated place. This is where the students undertook their martial training during the colder months, and the only Professor who ever taught classes down here was Leevi Kemppainen.
Millie had to admit that she was nervous, not because she planned to challenge Alice to a Duel, but because Kemppainen gave her the creeps. I wonder what he sounds like. Probably like Snape, though even scarier. I hope he doesn't single me out because I'm new… I really don't want to get his attention-…
"Are you okay?" Ruta suddenly whispered, they were all standing in formation as they waited for Kemppainen to arrive. "You look worried, Millicent."
"That's because I am worried," Millie drew in a sharp breath, looking around the large, circular room. "What if I forget the movements you showed me? I don't want to get yelled at by Professor Kemppainen." Or, worse, tortured!
"You won't forget," Ruta assured her, smiling a little. "You're super smart." Not really.
Millie shot Ruta a grateful smile, the smaller witch had been kind enough to teach her what they'd been practising in Martial Training class before the break. Millie was honestly left a little impressed by the end of her lessons by Ruta, who, despite her softer disposition, had decent form when it came to dodging Spells and general wand technique. Durmstrang, for all its faults, made sure that every student who graduated could defend themselves if attacked, and Millie was left wondering why Hogwarts didn't do the same. Hogwarts is more fun, though. We have clubs of all sorts, no Professor would ever hit a student, the grounds are far more beautiful, the castle itself is full of secrets, and-…
"He's here," Ruta suddenly whispered, just as every student straightened up.
Millie looked to the front of the room, going wide-eyed when she saw Kemppainen step out of the shadows, as if he were waiting in the dark this entire time. His startling eyes scanned the students as he slowly approached them, his long, black hair moving alongside his dark robes as they were one in the same. Merlin, he even walks weird… How did he turn out this way? Was he born like this?
"Welcome back, children," he whispered, and it felt as though his eerie, macabre voice was inside Millie's very mind. Oh, Gods! What was that?! "Begin with form four, then transition into form seven." Form four… That's the dodging left and right, before-…
The students started their drill simultaneously, save for Millie, who lagged behind the rest by a small margin. It was difficult to remember what Ruta had taught her and keep up with the others at the same time, but she tried her very best. Her dodges were short and precise, just as Ron had taught her, and her draw was much faster than most of her peers. Occasionally, she'd spot Kemppainen's eyes lingering on her, but she chose to ignore him in favour of not making a mistake due to nervousness.
"Form eight, then form three," Kemppainen suddenly whispered, and they all ducked and stepped forward, seamlessly transitioning into 'attack mode'. This isn't so bad, now that we've started. Actually, I'm rather enjoying myself. They should definitely do this at Hogwarts too! How long does this class go for, again?
One Hour Later
"Stop," Kemppainen ordered, and they all stopped mid-motion. "Rest."
The students hunched over immediately, groaning and massaging their aching muscles. Ruta had plopped down onto her arse, staring up at the ceiling as she wheezed for air. Millie, and Leon Rask, however, remained standing, breathing heavily but not tired from the training. That was so much fun! This is the best class ever! She looked in the young prefect's direction, only to see him staring at her with a raised eyebrow. What? He looked her over, and then, much to her surprise, he smirked and shot her an approving nod. Um… Cheers?
"How are you not exhausted?" Ruta groaned, and Millie looked down at her.
"Try running ten laps around the Black Lake every morning," Millie chuckled, and Ruta blinked at her. "That's what real exhaustion feels like."
"I'll pass, I think…" Ruta grimaced, and Millie offered the small witch her hand. "Oh, thank you…" Ruta took it, and Millie pulled her up with little to no effort, much to her surprise. "You're so strong!"
"It's the only advantage of being this size," Millie joked, making Ruta snort. "Is the class over? When does Waldvogel usually challenge you?"
Ruta lost her smile at that, suddenly looking very nervous. "When Professor Kemppainen orders us to break up and spar with our year-mates… Where is Alice? Let's see…"
Both girls looked around, spotting the violet-eyed witch whispering with her friends behind them, her strange eyes fixed on Ruta. Damn, she's really going to challenge Ruta, isn't she? Imagine picking on someone weaker than you, and being proud of it… She's so pathetic.
"How do I challenge her?" Millie asked, exchanging frowns with Waldvogel. I'm going to beat the shit out of you. The next time you think about bullying anyone, you'll remember my face.
"Just raise your hand, and when Professor Kemppainen addresses you, issue your challenge," Ruta answered, swallowing thickly. "Are you sure about this? Alice can be dangerous when she's angry…"
"I'll be careful," Millie promised, looking towards Kemppainen and raising her hand.
"What are you doing?" Ruta blinked.
"No point in wasting time," Millie replied, standing on her toes to better get his attention. I'm not giving her the chance to issue her challenge before me.
"Miss. Bulstrode," Kemppainen looked to her, one of his eyes looking her up and down whilst the other stayed perfectly still. Merlin's Beard! That's so creepy! "What is it, child?"
"I'd like to issue a challenge, Sir," Millie announced, surprising all the students in the room.
"Is that so?" Kemppainen tilted his head, appearing intrigued. "To whom?"
"Alice Waldvogel," Millie replied clearly and loudly, earning herself a few gasps.
Kemppainen looked towards Waldvogel, who was now sneering at Millie's back. "Do you accept this challenge, Miss. Waldvogel?"
The jet-black haired witch looked between Kemppainen and Millie, before giving a strong nod. "I accept. I do not fear this brute."
"Good," Kemppainen's irises glowed brightly, his lips curling upwards. "Fear is for the weak."
"Fear is for the weak," the students repeated in unison, surprising Millie a little. Is that Durmstrang's mantra, or, something?
"First years, to the left," Kemppainen commanded, stepping back himself. "Second years, to the right. Third years, to me. Make room."
"Good luck," Ruta whispered, but Millie knew that she didn't need it. Luck doesn't win duels, skill does.
The students moved quickly and efficiently, forming a circle of sorts around Millie and Waldvogel. The two girls drew their wands and approached each other, standing face to face. Waldvogel was slightly taller, but Millie knew that she was faster and stronger. If I can reach her, I'll clock her straight in the mouth. That'll put an end to the duel. However, if I can't, then I need to make her run. She doesn't seem particularly fit, so tiring her out and disarming her shouldn't be too hard. Either way, I need to embarrass her in front of everyone. That way, she knows that every time she goes after Ruta, I'll challenge her to a duel and humiliate her in front of everyone.
"You vill regret this," Waldvogel hissed, sneering. "I am better than you. In everything." People who feel the need to point that out aren't better than anyone.
"This is for making Ruta clean toilets," Millie growled, her grip on her wand tightening.
"Contact? Or, no contact?" Kemppainen asked Millie, sounding particularly eager for a change.
"Contact, Professor," Millie replied without hesitation, which earned her cheers from the onlookers.
"Savage…" Waldvogel looked disgusted by her, while Millie just smirked. "Your parents must be so proud of you…" You don't know anything about the Bulstrodes, do you? Duelling is in our blood, so right now, they would be proud of me.
"Bow, and take ten steps back each," Kemppainen instructed, and both girls did as they were told. "Are you prepared?"
"Yes, Professor," they answered, and Kemppainen took a step forward.
"Begin!"
As expected, Waldvogel wasted no time in launching into an assault, throwing out Hexes and stunners like an undisciplined fool. Her aim was better than Millie had expected, but with relative ease, the former Slytherin was able to dodge the colourful Spells coming her way. Left, right, right, right, left, duck! Wait for an opportunity! It'll come!
"Confringo!" Waldvogel suddenly shouted, and Millie's eyes went wide. Oi! What the fuck-?!
"Protego!" Millie erected a transparent barrier against which the Blasting Curse exploded, sending her sliding on her back. Ow… That was illegal…
Shooting a quick look towards Kemppainen, Millie saw that he couldn't have cared less, which genuinely horrified her a little. I could've died just then! What's wrong with this lunatic?! Feeling her temper flare, Millie rolled to her left in order to avoid any incoming Spells, before shooting up to her feet. That's it! You're eating dirt, Waldvogel!
"Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Flipendo!" Millie chained her Spells, taking a step forward with each incantation. Focus on your breathing, that's the most important part!
Waldvogel dodged left and right, failing to return fire due to the limited window of opportunity between Millie's onslaught. Once she was close enough, Millie suddenly ducked and slammed her wand into the ground, feeling the heat of a poorly aimed Spell go over her body as she did so.
"Fluctus Inpulsa!" Millie chanted, sending a bright blue shockwave around her in a circle.
As she looked up, she saw Waldvogel squeal as her slender body was lifted off of the ground due to the shift in gravity. Got you! Just as she was about to fire a stunner and end the duel, another idea barged its way into her mind. Wait! I haven't embarrassed her yet! Thinking quickly, Millie bolted forward and grabbed Waldvogel's ankle with her spare hand, and with all her might, she swung the screaming German witch through the air and hurled her to the cold ground.
Cheers broke out amongst the crowd, and Millie could hear Ruta cheering the loudest, though her focus never left the groaning witch across from her. Waldvogel still had her wand in her hand, though she was clearly struggling to catch her breath. Not so tough against someone who will fight back, are you? Three years! You've been making Ruta's life hell for three years! I can't even imagine how lonely she must've been before I showed up! You bullies are the worst sort of people!
"Anteoculatia," Millie chanted, and a purple ball of light shot out of her wand and hit Waldvogel in her side.
The German witch grunted from the impact, before letting out a howl of pain as antlers began to grow from her temples. Millie cringed internally, feeling a spark of guilt for causing another person pain out of anger, but she quickly regained her composure when she thought of Waldvogel's mistreatment of Ruta. One more Dark Charm, and then, I'll end this. There's no need to be cruel about this. This is supposed to be a lesson.
"Furunculus," Millie fired the golden coloured Pimple Jinx at Waldvogel, which immediately resulted in great, ugly boils springing up all over her face and body.
The crowd around them began to laugh hysterically, though many could be heard gagging due to how repulsive Waldvogel now looked. The violet-eyed witch looked to Millie with fat tears rolling down her boil-covered cheeks, gnashing her teeth in order to stop herself from sobbing. Damn… Did I go too far-?
"You bitch… You fat bi-!"
"Stupefy!" Millie stunned her mid-sentence, sending her sliding across the ground.
The crowd erupted in awed cheers once again, shocked that the new girl had utterly obliterated and humiliated one of the most popular girls in the school. Millie, however, just stood there in silence, staring at her handiwork and feeling an ever-increasing amount of guilt. How does Ron do this? I feel like I've done something horrible… Waldvogel is a terrible person, sure, but how am I any different right now?
"Millicent, that was amazing!" Ruta ran over, hugging her from the side. "Where did you learn those Spells?! Oh, you were so great!"
"…Thanks," Millie looked away from Waldvogel, feeling slightly better about herself when she saw how excited and happy Ruta was. "That ought to stop her next time she thinks of picking on you."
Ruta beamed, hugging her again. "You're the best!" I am?
"Silence," Kemppainen hissed, bringing an end to the cheers and making Ruta jump back. "Mr. Rask and Mr. Fischer, escort Miss. Waldvogel to the Medi-Witch. The rest of you, break up into pairs and begin sparring. Now."
"Can you teach me the Spell that made Alice grow antlers?" Ruta asked, and Millie gave a nod.
"Sure…" she replied, once again feeling sorry for her opponent.
As Ruta and Millie found themselves some space to spar, Millie looked towards Rask and Fischer, who had a floating Waldvogel in tow. Rask was, once again, staring back at her, a cruel smirk plastered on his square face. He shot her a wink, which rather surprised her, before grabbing Waldvogel by the leg and dragging her body after him. Aren't they friends? Why is he so pleased with what I did to her?
"Millicent?" Ruta called, breaking her out of her thoughts. "We'd best get started, or, Professor Kemppainen will Hex us." Right… I shouldn't get distracted whilst I'm in his class. I hope Waldvogel learned her lesson, and that this is the end of her targeting Ruta.
Saturday 10th April, 1994 (Durmstrang Institute – Early Evening)
The last couple of days had been strange to say the least.
Millie's duel against Waldvogel had earned her quite a bit of attention, but it wasn't the sort of attention she felt proud of. People were in awe of her boldness, of her ferocity, with many even claiming that she could give Rask a run for his money. Her classmates had become wary of her as a result, especially Waldvogel's gang, with many seeing her as a vicious Duellist who showed no mercy to her opponents.
The Professors had also been clearly talking about her, as she had caught some of them staring at her during meals, all of them having their own take on her as a person. Kemppainen seemed particularly pleased with her, even giving her a nod of approval this very morning. Professor Vulchanova was the opposite, and Millie's detentions with her had become an awkward affair. And then, there was the Headmaster himself, who was visibly annoyed by her, often shooting her dark glares whenever she crossed paths with him.
And as for Waldvogel herself, she was still with Medi-Witch Hasani, recovering from her many boils. She missed classes yesterday and today… Did I take it too far? I did, didn't I? Merlin, I want to apologize to her, but I know if I do that, then she'll become a problem for Ruta all over again. Honestly, what have I gotten myself involved in-?
"Millicent?" Ruta called out, walking over and shaking the larger girl by the shoulder. "You're distracted, again… What's wrong?"
"Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind," Millie put on a smile, shaking her head clear. What would you do in my shoes, Ron? How did you cope with the guilt after burning Flint? "Shall we keep sparring?"
"Actually, class is coming to an end," Ruta looked towards Kemppainen, who was moving around the students as he inspected their forms. "Which means that he's going to teach us a Curse very soon."
"Right…"
Millie felt herself grow nervous at the thought. The Dark Arts class was very different than how she had imagined it. Firstly, every student from across Durmstrang was here, all of them broken up into their respective years. And instead of learning evil Curses, they had spent most of the day training in Martial Magic, practising their Defensive Spells and wand techniques. Kemppainen, despite being a creep, was a thorough instructor, who tended to praised those who showed skill whilst correcting those who made mistakes with brutal efficiency. Millie had, much to her own shock, found herself enjoying his classes, and she was eager to attend them the following week.
"What sort of Curse will he teach us?" Millie asked Ruta, who was smirking at one of Waldvogel's friends. "Ruta? Hello?" She's been acting weird ever since my duel with Waldvogel.
"Sorry," Ruta looked back to her, smiling. "He'll teach every year level something different. First years and second years are taught basic Curses, of course, Spells anyone can cast with ease, but the rest of us are taught more adept Spells. Before the break, he taught us third years the Bone-Breaker Curse… It… It's a horrible Spell…"
"Rumpere," Millie remembered, and Ruta went wide-eyed.
"You know the Bone-Breaker Curse?" she asked, both awed and disturbed. "How? Why?"
"My friend, Ron, taught me," Millie explained, and Ruta nodded slowly to herself.
"That makes sense… He is dying because he practiced Dark Magic, after all-"
"That's not…" Millie started, but stopped. That's not what happened! Ron is not a fool, despite what the papers say! "It doesn't matter…"
Millie couldn't help but feel like shit, it was her actions that had led to Ron's entire life being publicized in that wretched trial. I stripped him of the one thing that matters most to him… His privacy… If I were him, I'd never talk to me again.
"We should go," Ruta suddenly said, taking Millie by the hand. "It looks like he wants us to break up into our year levels. It's time. Just do what he says, okay? Or, he'll punish you."
Thirty Minutes Later
"Third years, come forward," Kemppainen ordered, and Millie drew in a deep breath. This is it.
As the third years got into place, Kemppainen Conjured over twenty cages, each one containing a single rabbit. Millie immediately went pale in the face, her heart jumping into her throat. No… There's no fucking way he's going to make us-…
"Today, I have a treat for you all," Kemppainen smiled darkly, his emerald irises gleaming brightly. "Ersticken, the Suffocation Curse. Crafted in 1932 by German murderer, Klaus Meyer, who haunted the streets of Muggle Berlin. He killed over eighty Muggles before he was hunted down, where upon he used his own Curse on himself, ending his life." Merlin… "The Curse creates an ever-expanding air bubble in the victim's throat, causing airways to be blocked before being crushed. Death can occur in as little as one minute, and it is most excruciating. A brilliant creation, efficient and deadly, much like the creator himself." Kemppainen then looked to Rask, who took a step forward and faced his classmates. "Show them, Mr. Rask."
Rask pulled out his wand, it was covered in golden ornaments and small red gems. "Form a circle like this, and then, at the end of it, cast the Spell. Unlike most Curses, this one does not require the intent to harm. It merely requires proper wand movement and the incantation."
Rask then turned to face Kemppainen, who, with a wave of his black wand, released a rabbit from its confinement. No! The rabbit hopped out of its cage, looking about the underground classroom with excitement. Rask aimed his wand at the innocent creature, and Millie felt herself step forward. I can't let this happen-! Ruta suddenly grabbed her by the arm, shaking her head gravely.
"Don't," Ruta whispered, looking terrified. "You won't stop what's about to happen… You'll only get yourself into trouble…"
"Ersticken!" Rask chanted, and a white light shot out of his decorated wand, hitting the rabbit in its side.
Immediately, the rabbit began to squeal loudly in alarm, hopping from side to side as the Curse took hold. Millie watched in absolute terror as the rabbit started to curl up into itself, struggling for air. Soon enough, she could even hear its throat being crushed as the air bubble continued to grow without mercy, until very suddenly, there was a sickening crunch. The rabbit went perfectly still, drops of blood leaking out of its eyes, nose, and mouth. No… How could he do that…?
Millie felt her stomach turn, making her heave from disgust. I'm going to vomit… All of her prior excitement for Kemppainen's classes was now gone, replaced by a toxic mixture of fear and revulsion. He's a monster… And he's turning these children into monsters too… This is sick! How could my parents send me here?! To such a horrible place?! Is this what they want from me?! For me to cast this evil Magic on Muggles?!
She heaved again, feeling lightheaded and nauseous.
"Miss. Bulstrode," Kemppainen's voice rang in her mind, making her jump. "Step forward."
She looked to Ruta, who was staring down at her feet. Has she done this before? Killed animals just because this madman asked her to-?
"Bulstrode!" Rask barked, making her jump again. "You were told to step forward!"
Swallowing thickly, Millie moved past her year-mates and came to the front. She looked between Kemppainen and Rask, fighting the urge to turn on her heels and run. Kemppainen, without a word, unlocked another cage, and just like before, the rabbit inside hopped out. Millie stared at it, at its adorable face and its fluffy body, and a cold shiver ran up her spine. No… I can't…
"Draw, child," Kemppainen whispered, his eyes staring through her. "Ersticken. Go on."
Her hands shaking, Millie drew her wand and aimed it at the rabbit, before promptly freezing in place. It looked so ignorant of the danger all around it, so innocent, and the longer she stared at it, the harder it became to remember the incantation. Slowly, she lowered her wand, feeling her eyes sting. I won't… This is wrong! This is vile!
"…No," Millie refused, much to the surprise of her classmates. "I won't do it."
"What did you say?" Rask growled, raising his hand and taking a step forward, but stopping when Kemppainen raised his bony hand. "Sir?"
"Why do you hesitate, child?" Kemppainen whispered, moving to her side and placing his bony hand around her nape. "You did not hesitate against Miss. Waldvogel. Why now?" His hands are cold… Why are they so cold?!
"T-T-That was d-different…" she stammered, unable to take her eyes off the rabbit. "That was a duel… This is… This is murder…"
"Murder?" Kemppainen hummed, before letting out a haunting laugh. "This creature's life means nothing. It is an animal, not capable of even understanding such a concept. You are not murdering it, Miss. Bulstrode, it is aiding you in becoming a powerful witch. It is a stepping stone. Nothing more. Let it serve its purpose. Do it."
"…I can't…" she sniffled; she'd never been more scared in her entire life. "I'm sorry, but I c-can't… I don't want to…" I want to go back to Hogwarts! I don't want to be here, anymore!
"What a shame…" Kemppainen whispered, his fingers tightening around her neck. "I saw such potential in you, child, but it appears that I must dig deeper for it come to the light."
"I won't do it-" Millie started, but her words suddenly turned into screams as hot-white pain shot throughout her body. NO! NOOO!
Kemppainen yanked her off of her feet and hung her in the air for her classmates to see, her body thrashing about horribly as torrents of electricity carved its way through her and onto the ground below. The world began to turn dark within seconds, with only the sound of her own screams remaining behind.
?
Her eyes opened slowly, her head throbbing painfully. Where am I? What happened? Groaning, Millie tried to sit up, but her body refused to listen to her. What…? What's going on? There wasn't a single part of her that wasn't aching, and try as she might, she couldn't remember how she'd ended up unconscious.
"You're awake…" came a familiar voice from her left, and Millie turned her eyes to the side.
Slowly, her vision began to clear up, and the shadowy figure beside her turned out to be Ruta. The black-haired witch looked more nervous than ever before, a glass of water in her small hands. Millie tried to call out to her, but all she managed was a pathetic cough. Everything hurts… My throat feels like it's on fire… Ruta quickly brought the glass to her lips, carefully tilting it and letting her take small sips. Merlin… That's so much better…
"…What… happened…?" she managed, blinking repeatedly in order to adjust her vision.
Ruta's bottom lip trembled, and she let out a sorry sob. "Professor Kemppainen… He punished you for disobeying him… You screamed and screamed, but he wouldn't stop…"
Suddenly, flashes of everything that had transpired flashed in her mind, making her grow cold from head-to-toe. The rabbits… He wanted me to murder one, but I refused, so he tortured me… Gods, the pain… I've never felt something so horrible before… I thought I was going to die-…
"Millicent?" Ruta moved to the edge of her bed, placing a palm on her burning forehead. "You're burning up! I'm going to fetch Madam Hasani-!"
"He wanted us to… commit murder…" Millie grit out, her hands clenching into fists despite the pain. "He's pure… evil…"
Ruta paused, her features becoming as pale as a ghost's. "I told you… Everything about is just wrong…" Ruta then averted her gaze. "…You shouldn't have refused him like that… No one refuses him…" Wait… Does that mean that she-? No… She couldn't have…
"Ruta… Did you…?" she found that she couldn't finish her sentence. You couldn't have done it, could you?
"…I didn't have any choice," Ruta eventually murmured, causing the blood to drain from Millie's face. "If I didn't do it, he would've hurt me… Just like he hurt you…" How could you? You murdered an innocent animal… And in such a wretched way… Begging for air before its neck breaks…
Millie felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on her, and all she could do was stare at Ruta in utter disbelief. Is this what Durmstrang was? A castle run by abhorrent adults who actively encouraged their charges to enjoy cruelty? They teach us the weaknesses our fellow Magical Beings in Magical Monsters, they teach us that Muggles should be subservient to wizards in Study of Muggles, and they teach us how to main and murder both in the Dark Arts… They want us to become Dark Wizards, and this is where my parents send me?! This is who they are?!
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Ruta asked, her eyes becoming wet. "I had no choice! He made me do it! If you had just listened, you wouldn't be here right now! I didn't do anything wrong! It was him! Not me!"
With all the strength she could muster, Millie turned her head away from Ruta, hot tears escaping her eyes and staining her pillow, while Ruta continued to shout hysterically. I want to go home… I want go back to Hogwarts… This place… This evil school… It shouldn't exist… People like Kemppainen and my parents shouldn't exist…
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Saturday 10th April, 1994 (Hogwarts – Evening)
Daphne lingered in front of the common room's entrance, fidgeting with the letter she had intended to owl to her father. It wasn't anything special, of course, just a few sentences describing her activities at Hogwarts, but she still found herself unable to send it. She had apologized to him for disrespecting his wife in front of the help, but she had not fully forgiven him for humiliating her and casting her aside for Ron. Deep down, she still felt bitter for being put last by him, and she was afraid that this feeling would never go away. And then, there's the fact that he killed those Centaurs over such a petty reason. I think, I'll keep my distance from him for a while… Figure out who I'm supposed to be without him.
"Silver Cobra," Daphne whispered, and the entrance gave way.
She made her way into the common room, which was bursting with activity and excited chatter. Slytherin's victory was certain by now, and as such, the House of the Cunning was in a constant state of revelry and fellowship. It was just a shame that the person responsible for said victory wanted nothing to do with any of them. It's probably for the best… If he were here, he would not allow anyone to relax and enjoy themselves. We'd be training right now, or worse, studying. Speaking of which, I think I'll organise a meetup for the study club next week. Regardless of how I felt about it at the start, I really do miss spending time with students from the other Houses-…
"Sister! You're finally here!" Tori suddenly came running over, looking worried.
"Tori? What's the matter?" Daphne asked, taken aback.
"It's Flint," Tori pointed towards the sofas. "He's trying to start something with your friends, Daph." What?
Daphne's eyes followed Tori's finger, spotting Flint's mob circling her friends. Oh, no! Is he finally making a move on Malfoy?! Not wasting another second, Daphne rushed over to her friends, who were arguing loudly with Flint. She pushed herself past Crabbe and Goyle, stopping by Blaise's side and facing Flint himself.
"What's going on here?" Daphne demanded, keeping her voice even and collected. "Blaise? Theo?"
"Oh, look, the princess is here," Flint mocked, making his friends laugh. "Figures you'd need her to stand up for you, Zabini. I always suspected you were a faggot. Is that why you followed Weasley around like a dog? He let you suck him off, did he?"
Blaise looked entirely unfazed by the insult, just staring at Flint as if he were nothing. Flint frowned at his lack of reaction, his large hands clenching into fists. Over the last week, Flint had become increasingly emboldened, even going as far as to have his lackeys refer to him as 'Lord Flint'. I should've seen this coming. He's been terrorising the younger students from the other Houses since we got back, so it was only a matter of time before he started targeting Slytherins as well.
"We were here first, Flint," Theo said dismissively, frowning deeply. "And this is our spot. We always sit here. Why don't you go sit in the corner like you usually do-?"
Crabbe rushed forward and shoved Theo, causing Pansy to shriek as she barely caught the weedy boy. Theo! "Don't touch him! Theo, are you okay?"
"I'm fine…" Theo groaned, leaning against Pansy. "Thanks…"
Malfoy pulled out his wand, aiming it at Crabbe without hesitation. "Try that again, you overfed neanderthal! Go on!"
"Ohhhh!" Flint laughed, and most of his thugs promptly followed. "Malfoy's acting tough! Are you seeing this, Miles?!"
"I'm seeing it," the mean-spirited fifth year sneered, looking ready to punch Malfoy's teeth in. This is getting out of hand! I need to stop this! We're outnumbered and surrounded, and they're all bigger than us!
"Flint, what do you want?" Daphne stepped forward, putting herself between him and her friends.
"That's Lord Flint to you, Greengrass," Flint grinned, staring down at her. "Haven't you heard? I have taken over my father's estate and affairs, which means that I stand above you, now. You should show me some respect."
"Oh, I know how you got your title," Daphne said coolly, not allowing the ugly brute to intimidate her. "If my father was killed whilst being a degenerate, I'd show a little more humility. Do you know what that word means? Or, is it too advanced for you?"
Flint lost his mirth immediately, suddenly reaching forward and grabbing Daphne by the collar. Her heart jumped into her throat as he yanked her close, his spare hand raised above his hand menacingly. He's going to hit me! Merlin-!
"Get your hands off her!" Blaise shouted, throwing himself forward and punching Flint in the face.
Daphne squeeled as Flint jerked backwards, dragging her with him. Just as she recovered her senses, he shoved her harshly towards her friends, her body colliding against Blaise's. Both third years stumbled to the ground, with Daphne landing atop Blaise. Ow… That really hurt!
"You little bastard!" Flint yelled, rubbing his reddening cheek. "You fucking hit me!" Flint then charged forward, as if planning to jump onto Blaise and Daphne. "I'll fucking kill you-!"
"Flint!" a strong, feminine voice rang out, stopping the large Slytherin mid-attack. "Enough is enough! What's going on here?!"
Daphne looked to her left, feeling relief flood her when she saw Carey Ductu, Clara Martyris, and Samantha Selwyn overseeing the scene. Behind them, most of the Slytherins had gathered around, most of them appearing shocked by what they were witnessing.
"This prick clocked me in the face!" Flint fumed, shooting Blaise a deadly look. "You're dead, Zabini!"
"I said, that's enough," Ductu ordered, frowning deeply. "Get up, you two!"
Daphne moved off of Blaise, who shot up and glared right back at Flint. He nearly tore my collar, the brute! How dare he put his hands on me?!
"What's caused this fight?" Selwyn looked to the third years. "Nott? Parkinson?"
"Ask them," Theo hissed, looking just as murderous as Blaise. "We were sitting here, minding our business, and these twats show up and tell us to move. We said no, and they started threatening us!" They wanted our spot?
"Are any of you hurt?" Martyris asked, looking Pansy over.
"Yeah, me!" Flint snapped, sneering hatefully at the Silver Triumvirate. "I just told you! He fucking hit me-!"
"Lower your voice," Ductu warned, raising her slender finger towards his face. "You're not speaking to third years right now, Flint. I'll send you packing to Madam Pomfrey, have no doubts about that."
Flint clenched his jaw, but remained silent. Daphne blinked, looking to Ductu with a newfound sense of respect. Look at her… She didn't even hesitate to shut him up, even though he's physically stronger and bigger than her.
"Now… Let's talk," Ductu drew in a sharp breath, looking towards Theo. "Why didn't you move when he told you to?" …What?
"Why would we?" Theo challenged, scoffing.
"Because he's a seventh year, and you're just a third year," Selwyn chimed in, frowning at his tone. "If he tells you to move, then you move. You don't ask questions. You don't create a scene. You do as you're told. That's how it works in this House."
"Since when?" Daphne spoke up, she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Since before that ginger upstart started throwing his weight around," Ductu answered, the resentment in her voice was unmistakable. "He's not here, anymore, and we've decided that it's best we go back to how things were. And, just in case you forgot, you don't talk back to me. The Silver Triumvirate runs this House, not you."
Daphne and her friends exchanged looks, equally shocked and vexed.
"You listen to and obey the older students," Martyris added, her voice gentler than her friends'. "We don't fight amongst each other, all right? There are plenty of students from the other Houses who want to fight us already, so we can't have that follow us in here."
"And you…" Ductu looked to Flint, who was now smirking. "You don't put your hands on any of the younger students, am I clear? You might be powerful out there, but in here, you still follow our lead. You follow our traditions. Now, take the spot, and don't ever let me catch you raising your hand to another girl. There won't be a second warning."
With that, the Silver Triumvirate turned and left, dispersing the crowd as they went. Daphne just stood there, seething at the thought of losing their spot to the likes of Flint. Merlin, no one respects us in this House, do they? It was all just Ron… If he were here, this would've never happened to us…
"C'mon," Blaise grumbled, taking her by the arm and leading her away. "Let's go, you lot."
"Enjoy the corner, Zabini," Flint laughed, whilst his friends jeered and threw out petty insults.
Blaise led them back to the boys' room, all but kicking the door open. Once they were inside, Blaise viciously kicked his trunk, making Pansy shriek from fright. I have to calm him down. The last time I saw him this angry, Malfoy had just attacked Ron in that restroom.
"Blaise, stop," Daphne urged, while the others closed the door and silenced the room. "You have to relax-"
"Don't tell me to relax!" Blaise snapped, turning to face them. "Did you see what just happened?! Ductu, that sleazy slag, took Flint's side just because he's now a powerful Lord! Fucking pathetic bitch… Women like her turn my stomach!" Women like her? This can't be about his mother, can it? "Since when are they running this House, again? Huh? Just because Ron's not here, they think they can do as they like?"
"We expected a shift in power, mate," Theo sighed out, moving over to his bed and sitting on the edge. "It just happened faster than we thought it would, that's all."
"They stopped an all-out brawl from breaking out," Malfoy pointed out, and everyone looked to him. "What? It's true… As Zabini just pointed out, Flint's a powerful man, now. He was not going to back off, not for anything. And I bet they were waiting for an opportunity to step up and take control of the House. Flint, being an idiot, gave them just that, and he doesn't even realize it." All of this over a spot in front of the fire… Is Flint really that moronic?
Daphne looked down at her ragged collar, letting out a long sigh. That was terrifying… I thought he was going to hit me right in the face-…
"Are you okay?" Pansy asked, pressing her hand against Daphne's arm. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
Daphne shook her head in response, struggling to form words all of a sudden. Her heart was still beating in her throat, she realized, she'd never come this close to being hit by a man before. He was really going to do it, wasn't he?
"You ought to tell your father," Theo advised, and Pansy nodded her agreement. "He'll sort Flint out, I'm sure." Sort him out? My father will murder his entire household!
"No…" Daphne refused, she still planned to stand on her own two feet.
"Why not?" Malfoy asked, frowning. "Greengrass, he put his hands on you-"
"Yes, he put his hands on me, and I'm saying I don't want to run to another man to fight my battles for me," Daphne said adamantly, collecting herself a little. "I'll make him regret this, but I'll do it my own way." Wait… Tori! She's probably already run off to owl father! "From now on, we stay in here until we can figure out how to deal with Flint and the Silver Triumvirate. Now, excuse me, but I have to go."
"Where?" Pansy asked, looking worried. "Daphne?!"
"I have to stop my sister before she owls our father," Daphne replied, and Pansy promptly followed after her. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not letting you go out there by yourself," Pansy said strongly, shooting a look back at the boys. "We'll be right back, all right?"
"Keep your wands close," Blaise suggested, still pacing. "I should've clocked Ductu in her tart mouth as well… Bloody spineless bitch…"
"Can you calm him down, please?" Daphne looked back to Theo, who gave her a subtle nod. "And we don't tell Ron about this-"
"Why?" Blaise asked, stopping.
"Because of what he said to us at St. Mungo's," Daphne replied as if it were obvious. "He doesn't think we can handle ourselves, and I want to prove him wrong. If we go running to him at the first sign of trouble, he'll never respect us. He'll sort everything out, no doubt, but he'll look down at us for the rest of our time together."
Blaise frowned deeply, but didn't argue. "Malfoy, go with them."
Malfoy gave a nod, making his way over to Daphne and Pansy. "She's probably in her room, writing down everything she saw. We should try to avoid Flint's line of sight, especially with me around." Agreed. For now, we'll let him have his little victory. I hope he enjoys it, because I'm going to make sure it doesn't last. And as for the 'Silver Triumvirate'… I'm going to make them wish Ron was still here to handle all their problems.
Ronald Weasley's POV
Sunday 11th April, 1994 (The Burrow – Early Morning)
"I'm Ronald Weasley," Ron spoke to his reflection, fixing up his navy tie. "My name is Ronald Bilius Weasley. I'm the youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I enjoy a good game of chess, I love good food, and most of all, I want to keep my family safe… Even if they constantly disappoint me…" Damn, almost had it that time. Ron drew in a deep breath, shaking his head to himself. Try again. "My name is Ronald Bilius Weasley. I'm the youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I enjoy a good game of chess, I love good food, and most all, I want to keep my-"
"Ron?!" came Bill's voice, followed by urgent knocking. "Mate, I'm going to piss myself out here! Please, hurry it along!"
"…I'm going to kill everyone in this fucking house…" Ron muttered under his breath, massaging his forehead with his gloved hand.
Grabbing Octavia's seed off of the sink, he quickly pocketed it before heading to the door. The moment he opened it; Bill rushed inside, nearly knocking Ron over. Woah! Slow the fuck down, you maniac-!
"Out!" Bill all but pushed Ron out, slamming the door shut behind him. "Why are you even awake so early?! Merlin's Beard! Learn to sleep in once in a while, won't you?!"
"I hope you shit yourself!" Ron snapped, pounding on the door before heading for the stairs. "Tosser…"
He entered the kitchen and promptly made his way towards the living room, eager to be on his way before anyone else saw him.
"Ron?" his father called, stopping him. Fuck me. So close.
"Yes?" Ron turned around, spotting his parents at the dining table.
"Where are you off to so early, son?" Arthur asked, while his mother inspected his fresh suit. To a land called 'Mind your own business'. It's a Magical place. You should visit it sometime.
"Ronnie, why are your suits always so clean?" Molly questioned, surprising both Ron and Arthur. Where did that come from? "Arthur, I've never washed his suits before, but they're always clean…" Shit, she's onto Marty! "How?"
"I have a secret mother," Ron said plainly, fighting the urge to smirk. "That's where I'm off to now, actually. She makes the best breakfasts."
Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, while Molly went red in the face and puffed up. Here it comes!
"Well, why don't you stay with her, then?!" Molly huffed, shooting out of her seat and marching to the stove. "He's talking about Pandora, Arthur! The poor woman just had a baby, and he's making her wash his clothes!" Wait, she actually believed me? How insecure can you be?
"Are you happy with yourself?" Arthur asked him, frustrated. "Molly, he's not going to see Pandora… She just told us the other day that he doesn't even write to her, anymore." Does she write to me? No. Don't whine if you can't be fucked to put in the work yourself. Why is it my responsibility to send her letters?
"I'm going to go," Ron announced, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Arthur called out, and Ron drew in a deep breath. Now, what?! "I was going to go see Thaddeus today, and he asked if I could bring you along. He said it was important." Important?
Ron turned back around; his brow furrowed. "Is there trouble at the farm?"
"I don't know," Arthur replied, smiling weakly. "He just said it was important, that's all. And… I was hoping we could spend some time together, son. We haven't really talked in quite some time, and I miss it." Bloody hell.
Ron stared at the man, the last thing he wanted to do was to waste an evening talking to someone whose very existence bored him. "…Sure. We'll go see Thaddeus once I'm back."
"Really?" Arthur blinked, visibly surprised. "I mean, that's great! Brilliant! When will you be back?"
"Whenever Madam Pomfrey stops picking at my brain," Ron answered. I want to talk more about regaining pieces of myself. She gives good advice, and unlike most people, she walks the walk. I respect that. Plus, it's past time I buried Octavia's seed… She deserves better than to live inside my pocket.
"You're off to see Poppy?" Molly asked, her lips twitching upwards. "Wait, you should eat something before you go!"
"Goodbye, mum and dad," Ron quickly left the room, preparing the floo in a hurry so he could be on his way. "The Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts."
He tossed the floo-powder into the flames, and when they roared to life, he jumped through. Hoping that he didn't have to wake up the old man himself, he looked to the clawed desk, only to find it empty. Damn… He's not here. Hold on, is that an empty bottle of wine? Did he drink an entire bottle last night? Or, was he with Professor Snape? If so, then where was my invite?! Betrayed…
"Ronald?" came Dumbledore's voice, and Ron followed it towards the large window overlooking the stairs. "My boy, why are you here? And so early in the morning to boot?"
"I've… Well, I brought you a present, Headmaster," Ron started, walking further into the office. His eyes… He didn't sleep last night.
Ron looked towards the bottle once more, and then, back to the Headmaster. What's going on? Did he spend the entire night drinking?
"A present, you say?" Dumbledore chuckled weakly, his tired eyes twinkling. "And what have I done to earn such generosity?"
"Oh, you're only the greatest man I've ever met, nothing more," Ron joked, but Dumbledore didn't laugh.
If anything, he looked saddened by Ron's words. Okay, he's starting to worry me.
"Sir? What's the matter?" Ron asked, walking closer and closer. "You look… upset."
"…I'm just tired, that's all," Dumbledore lied, smiling weakly. "Perhaps, you ought to show me this present? It might stir my spirits." I certainly hope so.
Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out the shimmering seed, and Dumbledore's eyes widened a little. It worked!
"Is that…?" Dumbledore whispered, descending down the stairs and putting on his half-moon spectacles. "It is…"
"Can you help me bury it?" Ron asked, offering the old man the seed. "In the Forbidden Forest?"
Thirty Minutes Later
"So… That bottle on your table…" Ron looked to Dumbledore, noticing that his fashionable robes were crinkled. "Is there something you want to tell me, Sir?"
Dumbledore slowed down, thinking carefully about his words. "I received ill news recently, Ronald. I thought wine would help me sleep, but I was wrong."
"What sort of ill news?" Ron asked, stopping. "You're not dying, are you?" You can't leave me. I need you.
"No, nothing so dramatic," Dumbledore answered, stopping as well. "I had Mundungus Fletcher look into a wizard who supposedly studied Soul Magic, Alexander Argo, but the search did not end as I had hoped."
"Soul Magic?" Ron blinked, wondering why the old man would want to delve into such things.
"I did it for your sake," Dumbledore admitted. Oh… "And for Harry's."
"You wanted to reverse what the Dark Lord did to us," Ron figured, and Dumbledore gave a sullen nod. "Headmaster…"
"I keep finding new ways to fail you, my boy," Dumbledore said gravely, sounding more and more tired. "I am sorry-"
"Don't say that, please," Ron interjected, touched by the gesture alone. "You… You could never fail me, Sir. You're…" he stopped, feeling awkward. You are the most noble man I know, and I love you for it. Nothing will change that. "What happened to this man? Was he dead?"
"Apparently so," Dumbledore sighed out. "He went missing for weeks, and when his neighbours attempted to check up on him, they found strange Runes inside his cellar. Strange Runes, and his amputated arm." What?
"Merlin…" Ron muttered under his breath. "What sort of Runes were they? Do you know?"
"I am not sure, but from what Mundungus gathered, it looks as though he was trying to Summon something," Dumbledore replied, and Ron felt his stomach twist. Summoning Runes? Soul Magic? No… There's no way… Did he end up Summoning the same Being that taught Herpo the Foul how to split his soul? "Ronald? What is it?"
"Just something I read once…" Ron replied, thinking deeply. "I hope, for all our sake, he is indeed dead and gone."
"Why do you that?"
"Because some forces should not be fucked with," Ron sighed out, shaking his head. "Soul Magic, from everything I've gathered, is not a branch of Magic mortal men should aspire to learn. It never ends well."
Dumbledore said nothing in response, merely giving a nod with a concerned expression. Alexander Argo… Herpo the Foul… How many other fools have attempted to bargain with Beings not of this world? How many monsters are lurking under our beds without our knowledge? This is… troubling…
"We will find another way," Dumbledore suddenly said, breaking Ron out of his thoughts. "I am not giving up on you two just yet."
Ron couldn't help but smile a little at that, patting the old man on the arm. "Don't ever change, Sir."
"I do not plan to," Dumbledore chuckled softly, continuing forward. "Come, we are almost there."
"Where are we going, exactly?" Ron had to ask, following after the man.
"I believe, it is my turn to ask a question," Dumbledore said, and Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "You are different today. You seem… more at ease. Care to share why?" I'm done blaming other people for my own shortcomings, and I'm done excusing everyone's weaknesses. I'm going to be true to myself, even when it feels impossible.
"I spoke to Madam Pomfrey," Ron started, surprising Dumbledore. "She helped me realize that I was running away from myself because I was afraid of… everything. I was afraid of Fate. I was afraid of living on as Ronald Weasley. I was afraid of feeling anything but my rage." Ron then drew in a deep breath, straightening his back. "I no longer want to be someone I'm not, and what I'm not is a coward who hides from the struggles in his life. I thought being the Champion of Fate gave me strength, made me untouchable, but it didn't. It was just a shield I hid behind to protect myself. It was cowardice. It was weakness."
Dumbledore smiled fully this time, his eyes twinkling brightly. "And all it took was one conversation with Poppy?" No… It wasn't the conversation, but rather, what I saw in her and myself. She ran from her brother's memory for years, but it never stopped chasing her. It haunted her. I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want such regrets following me around.
"What can I say? She's just wiser than you," Ron grinned, and Dumbledore let out a loud laugh.
"I cannot dispute that," Dumbledore said, giving him a proud look. "I take it that your relationship with your family has also improved, then?" Yeah… No.
"No, not really…" Ron admitted, losing his mirth. "Headmaster, how was your relationship with your family? I know you fell out with your brother, and that you…" he stopped. I shouldn't bring up his sister. "When you were my age, did you get along with them?"
"No, I did not," Dumbledore confessed, also losing his mirth. "We were very different people, my family and I, and growing up, I was… Well, what's there to say? I was not like you, my boy. I did not care for them, not until I lost them." That's… sad. A man should care for his family, no matter what.
"Lately, whenever I'm around my parents… I just can't stand it," Ron sighed out, feeling a little ashamed. "I'm not angry with them, and we're not fighting… I just… I don't respect them, I think… How fucked up is that? I mean, they raised me, gave me a home… But I don't respect them, anymore." I don't think I've respected them for a long time.
"That's not as uncommon as you think, dear boy," Dumbledore said sagely, and Ron looked up at his smiling face. "Arthur and Molly are good people. They have kind, giving souls, same as yourself, but unlike them, you are full of ambition. More ambition than even myself, I believe, and it is difficult for ambitious men to respect those who have none, regardless of their relationship."
"But I'm their son…" Ron all but whispered. "Isn't it wrong of me to feel this way?"
"Do you love them?" Dumbledore asked in response.
"I do," he answered honestly. "I would die for them without hesitation."
"Then, you are a better son than I ever was," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Respect and love are not the same thing, my boy. In truth, they are vastly different. Love can be given freely, but respect must always be earned."
"Shouldn't you be telling me to respect my parents?" Ron was surprised by the old man's answers.
"If you were any other child, I would," Dumbledore smiled fondly. "However, to me, you are more than that. You are my friend, and I do not wish to lie to you." I see… "We're here. This is the spot."
Ron looked around them, they were surrounded by thick, tall trees and thick shrubbery. This place is creepy… Is he certain?
"Why this spot?" Ron asked, curious. "It looks no different from where we were ten minutes ago."
"The Magic here is strong," Dumbledore informed him. "Feel it."
Ron closed his eyes and opened himself up to it, quickly feeling overwhelmed by the Errant Magic all around them. Merlin, it feels almost identical to the forest behind Ilvermorny. I know Hogwarts was built upon a Site of Power, so that must mean that this is one of the areas where the Magic within leaks out of.
"So, do we dig a hole?" Ron asked, looking to the old man for instructions.
"Did you bring a shovel?" Dumbledore asked, and Ron frowned.
"Oh, yeah, it's hidden up my arse… Of course, I didn't bring a fucking shovel!"
"Then, we have to go back and get one," Dumbledore sighed out. What?! What the fuck?!
"I'm going to bury you out here…" Ron just stared at the old wizard, who let out a boisterous laugh. "Have you had your fun, yet? Can we please start, now?"
"We may," Dumbledore looked very pleased with himself, waving his hand over a patch of dark soil.
The patch parted down the middle, leaving behind a deep hole which could easily fit a Quaffle inside it. This is it, then. Goodbye, Octavia. Thank you for what you did for Tracey, and thank you for being my friend. I will never forget you. Ron pulled out the seed and offered it to Dumbledore, who carefully took it and placed it within the freshly-dug hole. With another wave of his hand, the Grand Sorcerer covered the seed, leaving the patch of soil just as they had found it.
"That's it?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore gave a nod.
"That's it."
"I expected something… flashier…" Ron admitted, and Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. "Sorry… I'm being stupid…"
"No, you aren't," Dumbledore said, patting his cheek affectionately. "This is a great honour for Hogwarts, Ronald. Thank you."
"You should be thanking Harkin, not me."
"I will thank him also, but for now, I will settle for thanking you," Dumbledore said, looking back to the soil. "A Dryad protecting the Forbidden Forest… This truly is a great honour. May she bring it, and its denizens, prosperity and peace." Dumbledore then looked back to Ron, smiling. "Have you thought of a name for her?" What? Me?
"A name?" Ron swallowed thickly. "Isn't that your job?"
"I think, it should be you who names her," Dumbledore replied, waiting patiently. I can't name her Octavia… I mean, I could, but that'd be weird… What's a good name for a girl? C'mon, Ron, think! Wait… I know!
"Cedrella," he decided, thinking of the little girl who never was.
"That is a good, strong name, Ronald," Dumbledore agreed, beaming. Thanks. It feels right.
"How long until she's born?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore shrugged.
"That depends entirely on her," Dumbledore replied. "Dryads are born when they feel ready to be born. It could be a year from now. A week from now. A decade from now. There is no way of predicting it. We just have to have faith." So, it's completely out of our control? I don't like that…
"Well, whenever she's born, we'll be here to greet her," Ron said, drawing in a long breath. "Right?"
"Yes, we will," Dumbledore nodded, before chuckling to himself.
"What?"
"We'll bring Severus with us as well," Dumbledore shot him a wink, making him snort. "I'm certain he'd love to hold her."
"He's more likely to dissect her than hold her," Ron laughed, thinking of Severus Snape rocking a baby Dryad in his arms. If I saw that in real life, I'd die a happy man!
A loud howl interrupted their laughter, and Ron immediately drew his Aspen wand. What the fuck was that?! Was that a fucking Werewolf?! It couldn't be! The sun is up!
"Be at ease, dear boy," Dumbledore said gently, lowering his wand hand. "We are not in any danger, I assure you."
They heard leaves rustle all around them, and from behind some of the bushes, Ron saw white fur moving about. He tightened his grip on his wand, but trusted Dumbledore enough to not make a move. After nearly a minute of his eyes searching for whatever was stalking them, a wolf revealed itself by walking out from behind a thick tree. It was larger than any wolf Ron had ever heard of, nearly the size of a pony, with thick, white fur and luminous blue eyes. What the actual fuck…? What kind of wolf is that?!
It howled once again, and much to Ron's shock, a dozen more wolves revealed themselves. Just like the pack leader, they were overly large and white-furred, though their eyes were green instead of blue. Despite being outnumbered and surrounded, Ron couldn't help but admire their beauty and elegance, each of them moved with deadly purpose and stunning grace. Wait… Are these the rumoured Werewolves that lurk within the Forbidden Forest?
The pack leader approached them, sniffing around Dumbledore, before suddenly standing up on its hind legs and against the old wizard's chest, licking his face and beard. Yuck! Dumbledore let out a jolly laugh, scratching the large wolf behind the ears. Unbelievable…
"It's good to see you too, Lupa," Dumbledore greeted the she-wolf, as if they were old friends. "How long have you been following us?" Lupa howled in response, hopping back and sitting down before Dumbledore. "You've become a great hunter, I see. I could not sense you and your siblings. Remarkable."
Lupa howled again, her tail wagging against the ground. She then shot up to her feet once more, doing a circle around the patch of soil where Cedrella was buried. The other wolves joined her, all of them eyeing the patch with what could only be described as curiosity. What are they doing? They're not going to dig out the seed, are they?
"Look after her, won't you?" Dumbledore asked, and the wolves all howled in unison. He's talking to them… They fucking understand what he's saying! What sort of wolves are these?! "Come, Ronald. Let's leave them to get acquainted."
"…Okay…" was all he could say, following after Dumbledore dumbly. This man… He's something else entirely. He's just… amazing… In every way possible…
"You are staring, dear boy," Dumbledore eventually pointed out, looking back. "What is it?"
"You're brilliant…" Ron muttered, still in awe.
"Are you only now figuring that out?" Dumbledore joked, gesturing Ron to walk alongside him. "Do you have time for a game?"
"Actually, I was going to go see Madam Pomfrey," Ron replied, shaking his head clear. "Never mind that, though, can you explain what I just saw, please?! Who were those wolves?! Where did they come from?! And why were they so fucking big?!"
Dumbledore laughed, putting his arm around Ron's shoulders. "Let's make a deal, why don't we? You beat me in a match, and I will tell you the story of how Lupa and her siblings came under my care?" What?! No! I want to know, now!
"You can't just show me something like that, and then ask me to wait!" Ron groaned, much to the old man's amusement. "And they say Voldemort is evil!" I don't want to see Madam Pomfrey, anymore, I want to go play chess with him so I can beat him and hear that story! "Are you free tonight? I'll come over after sunset! You have to tell me this story, Sir!"
"Only if you beat me, Ronald. Only if you beat me."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Why do babies take the smelliest, most rancid shits possible?