"Ugh, where the hell is he?" Harry groaned, walking backward out of the room, looking at the open passage behind a large portrait of an aging wizard with huge eyebrows that almost completely hid his eyes. If it wasn't for his overall evil demeanor, Harry would have found him funny.
"For fuck's sake… Can you please come over here, mate? If we move now we might actually catch a trail."
Harry stepped out and dusted off his arm when a silver flash flew past his head, missing him barely, leaving a hot trail on his cheek. Luckily, there was a large pile of the ceiling to his left and Harry crouched behind it, pulling his wand in front of his face, steadying his breathing. He could hear the rubble cracking under the attacker's boots as he slowly moved across the corridor and he dared a glance. However, as soon as he peeked over the top of his hiding spot another curse flew his way, this time hitting the debris, with the obvious aim of dispersing it.
"How in the hell did we miss this asshat?" Harry thought, hoping Ron heard the commotion.
The next moment a hail of green sparks came sizzling down on Harry, so he cast a protective shield, but the sparks scorched through it like nothing he had ever seen before. Harry reinforced it and then pushed himself back until his head hit the wall. However, several sparks burned their way through and fell on Harry's chest, but his Auror vest made of dragonhide prevented any harm, and Harry made a mental note to thank Ron for being a nagging berk.
"Well, shit," Harry mumbled, weighing his options. If he kept casting protection shields, then he wouldn't be able to attack, and if he were to stand up and attack, he would probably get hit instantly because the bastard had the upper hand. Then his mind went to Ron again and Harry realized some time had passed since Ron said that he was coming, and panic set in. What if…?
Harry dismissed the thought instantly.
"No. No way, not like this. Fuck this asshole!" He muttered, then raised his hand over the top and cast a burst fire of stunning spells in various directions. It caught his attacker off-guard as Harry heard his heavy robes swipe the floor. That was his window of opportunity and Harry sprung to his feet.
"Expelliarmus!"
However, nothing happened, and Harry scolded himself internally for saying the charm out loud. He stood in a dueling stance, waiting for his opponent to show face. Harry pushed his glasses into place, then quickly swiped his thumb under them, removing the sweat and muck from his eyes.
The dim moonlight crept in through the cracks and holes from the night's confrontations and Harry could make out a tall silhouette in the middle of the hallway. However, instead of continuing his attack, he just stood there, unmoving and mute, as if confused by Harry's re-appearance.
"Auror department, drop your wand!" Harry shouted, breaking the silence between them.
"You're surrounded, now drop it!"
A devious chuckle came as a response.
Harry's patience grew thin and anger took over - he needed to find Ron and this asshole stood in the way, so he flicked his wand and the duel began.
The attacker made a circular motion which repelled Harry's curse and in the following moment the cobblestones were pulled from the floor, merging into tower-like structures that glided in Harry's direction, threatening to crush him. It didn't take Harry long to react, casting impedimenta spells to slow them down before he hit them with well-aimed bombarda jinxes.
Then the floor beneath him trembled and a multitude of chains, ropes, and wires sprung from the pressed dirt, sliding across like serpents - trying to bind his feet, his hands, his whole body, but Harry was agile and fought off the snake-like constraints. He even managed to send one coiling chain flying back at the other's head.
The man ducked and Harry hexed pieces of debris around him, making them shoot across the corridor at random, like shots from a catapult. It was an Auror favorite that allowed more maneuvering during a fight.
His opponent redirected every hit and stone clashed against stone with thundering force. Harry tried to disarm him again, but for some reason, the spell had no effect on the wizard.
His next move forced Harry back again, as he conjured a fiendfyre horse that first formed a protective circle around him, then trotted toward Harry. However, it wasn't the spell itself that made Harry stumble and fall, it was his grinning, fire-illuminated face that had Harry defeated.
The man moved along with the horse which brayed menacingly at Harry, revealing a forked tongue that oozed out of its mouth, slowly turning into a leather whip.
"You know… This little deception you are trying to pull is starting to bore me," He said in an eerily calm voice, stretching out the last two words, as to resemble a yawn.
Harry couldn't take his eyes off of him, and the familiarity of his voice made Harry truly question his own sanity.
"Who are you?" Was the only coherent question Harry could form as he crawled backward, his mind whirring, unable to recall any counter-curses.
The face, the body, the voice - they belonged to Ron, but the person in front of him was not his best friend.
The wizard chuckled again, apparently amused by Harry's distraught face.
"If you thought this ruse would work," not-Ron continued, "think again."
The horse leaped and seized Harry by the throat with its tongue, and in a matter of moments, the young Auror was suspended mid-air, choking. His wand slipped from his grasp as he clawed at his neck, desperate to breathe.
The wizard stepped closer and examined Harry's face with morbid curiosity, grinning from ear to ear as Harry struggled.
"Fascinating… The resemblance is striking, down to the spell-work…" not-Ron whispered, tilting his head, eyes locked on Harry's faded scar.
Harry's vision was becoming blurry, but he noticed movement from the corner of his eye and he thought of Ron, his Ron. With the last ounce of strength, he swayed his legs and kicked the imposter in the gut.
A powerful red flash lit up the room and Harry fell on his back. Dust-tainted air filled his lungs and it was the sweetest breath he had ever taken. Darkness overtook the corridor again and when he opened his eyes, there was a hand inviting him up.
"What in the hell, Harry?"
"Neville?!" Harry croaked, as he scrambled back to his feet.
"Ron tapped me," Neville said reluctantly.
"Of course he bloody did," Harry breathed, wiping his face clean with his sleeve, imagining how the night would have ended if Ron had in fact listened to him.
Neville opened and closed his mouth, obviously unsure how to proceed, so instead he lit the tip of his wand, and Harry could see worry written all over his face. His eyes darted to Harry's neck and he reached inside his cloak, but Harry stopped him.
"I'm fine," Harry said reassuringly, patting his shoulder, then turned to retrieve his wand, "and thank you for saving my arse."
Neville nodded and glanced at the unconscious man tightly wrapped in an incarcerous spell.
"That's not Ron," Harry answered the unasked question, as they both came to stand over the imposter.
"Harry…"
"It's not him, Neville," Harry said harshly, which induced a coughing fit.
"Well, the three of us are the only ones in the castle, mate. I've checked," Neville replied glumly while pulling a flask from his cloak. He offered it to Harry who took it with an apologetic nod. The flask's cap clinked against its side as Harry took a swig.
"This isn't water," he wheezed, returning the flask to Neville.
"I know," Neville replied, as he tilted the flask, downing its content, "We need to report this."
"We are not reporting this," Harry countered and Neville gave him a dirty look.
"Yet," Harry added quickly, "We are not reporting it yet."
"Harry, this is serious - he attacked you! Almost murdered you!"
"Exactly, and by law any witch or wizard who attacks an Auror gets a one-way ticket to Azkaban. I might not get a chance to figure this out before the department goes barmy on him! I mean… look at him, he is every Prophet's reporter wet dream!"
"Mate, the department will surely do everything in its power to keep Ron -"
"You're not listening to me" Harry cut Neville off, grabbing him by the shoulders.
"We told you about the horcruxes, you know more than the rest of the wizarding world and you know how the locket affected Ron, yeah? Well, the department knows it too. Now imagine what will happen…It will be worse than Delilah Habersham."
"Shit," Neville mumbled, he wasn't on that case, because he was on leave for Hannah who suffered some complications during her pregnancy, but he got to know the details later.
Fourteen months ago, eight muggle-born witches were murdered over the course of two weeks because one young witch bought her best friend a bracelet just outside Knockturn Alley. It was imperiused, or at least that was the curse analysts' best guess. The whole thing was a total nightmare and her family background and other circumstances did not play into her favor. The details were leaked and the Daily Prophet had a field day. The gory details spread like wildfire, almost causing riots in the streets, and in the end, the Auror department had no choice but to lock up the poor witch whose last memory was trying on a bracelet for her friend. The trio sat at her trial, and she looked nothing like the photograph her mother provided when she'd gone missing. That case hit them hard, especially Harry.
"You think he touched something that changed him like it did Delilah?" Neville asked in a small voice.
"Ron knows better. This… I don't know, Neville, but this isn't Ron, this is some elaborate dark magic, I mean, have you seen his face?" Harry let out an exasperated sigh, "He also said stuff that didn't make a lick of sense."
"Like what?"
"Like - this was a bad ruse or something," Harry said, racking his brain for the exact words.
"Our stake-out?"
"No, I don't think that's what he meant. He was being cryptic as fuck."
The two men fell silent, each lost in thought for a brief moment, assessing the magnitude of the shit-storm they had walked into.
"Alright… What do we do then?" Neville asked, scratching his head.
"Hermione, we need Hermione."
"Well, yeah, obviously."
"And we need to get him to a place where we can keep this under wraps for now. We take him to… Grimmauld's," Harry said with a grimace.
"How are you going to explain things to Ashwood in the morning?"
"I'll leave that to Hermione," Harry replied timidly, already picturing her reaction when she faced not-Ron on the floor. The thought alone made him wince.
"We are in waaay over our heads," Neville said, crouching next to the unconscious wizard, turning him face up.
"Aren't we always?" Harry rasped, crouching next to Neville, staring down at the pale and freckle-less face. The scar he bore looked horrid, and Harry suddenly remembered that the eye under it was unnervingly gray, almost like a cataract that covered his whole eye. It made no sense at all.
Neville patted Harry's shoulder in an attempt of comfort, "We'll figure it out, Harry."
Harry nodded absentmindedly, then mumbled: "I need him back." However, in the cold harrowing darkness of the castle, Neville heard him all too well, and a chill traveled down his spine. Neville knew that Harry would go to any length for Ron, their bond was something that could not be described in common terms of friendship, or even brotherhood. He would have to keep a close eye on Harry. This rogue mission could go from bad to worse in a heartbeat.