Notes: (1) This is the second part of the last chapter. The original was set to be 12,000 words in all, but I decided to cut them in two.

(2) Sorry for the delayed update I've been very sick and unmotivated to write.

The world of Harry Potter and its characters belong to JKR. I do not support JKR. Trans women are women. Trans men are men. Trans people are people.

TW: Swearing

Chapter 6: The Training II

The next morning Ron woke up and made his way to breakfast, he couldn't help but notice the large amount of eyes following him. Not only from his own house, but from others as well, it was obvious what they were thinking. Why was Ron Weasley of all people Gryffindor's Champion? He tried his best to ignore him, but the fact that they thought he was not only blind, but also deaf got onto his nerves.

"It's that Weasley."

"Which one? One of the funny ones?"

"No, the tall skinny one."

"Percy?"

"No, Ron Weasley."

It was bloody annoying, and as he sat down for breakfast the staring didn't stop, instead it came from the people sitting around him. Colin Creevey was watching him intently with his camera in hand. Angelina Johnson seemed smug for some reason, and Cormac McLaggen kept glaring at him as he drank his pumpkin juice, having recovered from eating all those doxy eggs weeks ago.

As he kept eating he became angered as everyone would only continuously stare at him, as he was some sort of zoo animal, he suddenly felt extremely apologetic towards Harry for feeling jealous for the last five years. As he saw Lavender Brown take a glance at him, then whisper something in Parvati Patil's ear, just for the two of them to giggle, he snapped.

"What?!" he asked rather loudly, bringing the attention of a couple of students from different tables. As he looked around people settled their gaze back to their plates, to their nails, or at someone else. Basically, they avoided looking directly at Ron. Harry and Hermione who had accompanied Ron to breakfast were sending glances to one another.

Ron finished his breakfast hurriedly and stood up ready to leave the Great Hall to get to class, Harry and Hermione quickly followed. As he was about to leave the hall he was stopped by Angelina Johnson of all people.

"Ron, Harry," she said. "Just remember we have Quidditch Practice this afternoon. We want to kick Slytherin's arse on Saturday don't we?" She was talking to the both of them as if they were wild animals, careful to approach them. Ron and Harry nodded, and left towards Defense Against the Dark Arts. The class itself had gotten much better as they progressed, but the DA was still a better option according to the majority of the class. As they sat down Kingsley Shacklebolt as well as Godric Gryffindor entered the classroom, it was a surprise to say the least seeing as the only classes Ron had encountered his founder in were Transfiguration, Charms and Potions.

"Evening class," said Shacklebolt. "Today we'll be practicing duelling. We'll choose a partner and change every five minutes. Remember, try stunning, disarming or putting your opponent out of combat. No, damaging curses, we don't Madame Pomfrey ending up with half of the Gryfffindors inside the Hospital Wing."

Harry and Neville partnered up, Hermione and Parvati Patil went against each other, Seamus and Lavender decided to be practice targets for one another, and Ron ended up with Dean.

"Protego," said Ron the second they started, it was a good idea seeing as Dean sent a charm his way.

"Expelliarmus," Dean waved his wand and hit Ron's blue shield.

"Stupefy!" countered Ron. Dean ducked and Ron noticed as he almost tripped on the right side of his robes.

"Impedimenta," Ron stepped aside dodging Dean's jinx. He quickly crouched and pointed his wand at Dean.

"Expelliarmus," he sent the charm at Dean's left side forcing him to step to the right once again tripping on his robes. Ron didn't waste a second and pointed his wand again. "Stupefy!" he said and the red light hit Dean square in the chest sending him to the ground.

He looked around, Harry and Hermione had already defeated their own opponents, while Lavender and Seamus were struggling with one another. Ron helped Dean up and as they were about to change Gryffindor walked to the right of Shacklebolt. He whispered something in his ear, before his eyebrows raised. Gryffindor looked at Shacklebolt expectantly and the Auror gestured with his hand as if to say if you must.

"Everyone," said Gryffindor excitedly. "We'll be making a tiny competition. The class will be divided into two teams. The losing team will have to write a two feet essay regarding Martial Magic." Ron saw that Hermione looked conflicted, wanting to win, but most probably also wanting to write the essay. The first team was composed of Seamus, Parvati, Harry and Neville, while the second was formed by Dean, Hermione, Lavender, and Ron. "The winner of each duel will stay and will only get back in the line if they lose." As Seamus and Dean duelled, Hermione closed her eyes and started what seems to be a plan in her head.

Ron felt extremely nervous as Lavender seemed to hold high hopes for him, Dean had even whispered to the other three they couldn't lose seeing as they had the Champion of Gryffindor on their team. How could he break the news that being the Champion of Gryffindor only made him more disappointing.

'Don't think about that Ron,' he heard Gryffindor's voice inside his head. 'Stop thinking like that, you're not a disappointment.'

'Maybe I'm not,' he responded inside his head. 'But, still, that won't stop me from getting my arse kicked when Harry sends me flying.'

'Okay, calm down. I mean it, stop thinking about what you can't do, and start thinking about what you can do.'

'What do you mean?'

'You observed Dean's mistake. How his robe fell a bit lower on his right side, you thought ahead and made a plan to easily take him down.'

'That was different, Dean makes mistakes, Harry doesn't, he's going to take me down in two moves.'

'Don't you see how you're thinking even at this moment? You're thinking like a chess player, you analyze patterns and predict movements. Everyone is like that, observe Harry, think like chess player, and find out his blind spot.'

Gryffindor cut off the connection. Dean managed to win, but fell short by Parvati's quick feet, Hermione defeated Parvati by using the Tongue-Tying Curse leaving Parvati defenseless, Harry and Hermione were next and it was almost hysterical how much better Harry was than Hermione. But, as they dueled Ron made sure to observe Harry, his movements, his stepping, his wand waving. Anything that could give him a hint as to how to defeat him. Lavender Brown was next and Harry managed to beat her even faster than he did with Hermione.

'Come on,' Ron thought. 'Blind spot. Blind spot. What is Harry's blind spo-' His training of thought was cut off as his duel with Harry was beginning. He took a deep breath and stepped forward hoping that he could hopefully get a few jinxes or hexes his way. Harry and Ron put their wands in front of each other and saluted, signaling the start of the duel they put themselves in combat positions and the duel started.

"Protego!" called Ron at the same time Harry's wand shot a scarlet light towards him. "Expelliarmus!"

Ron had managed to block Harry's first attack and he hoped to Merlin his strategy would work. Ron had to think quickly, he threw curse after curse at Harry who would block or dodge them with ease. It was a barrage of offensive spells coming from Ron's way.

"Stupefy!" Harry casted, Ron managed to roll to the side as the Stunner came right for his head. He had to think quickly, however, he looked at his knees, Harry's knees were always a bit knobby, and he pointed his wand at them.

"Fulgari," and white luminous cords shot out of his wand, it occurred to Ron that Harry didn't know what that spell was and dodged out of the way instead of conjuring a simple shield.

'Think like a chess player," Ron repeated the words in his head. 'Think like a chess player. Think like a chess player.'

"Expelliarmus!" the both of them practically roared. Their charms collapsed against one another, Ron's wand shot out of his hand and landed on Harry's grasp, while Ron was now gripping Harry's own wand. The both of them looked at Gryffindor, who looked impressed by both of their skills.

"Continue," he said. "You still have your wands, don't you?" Harry and Ron looked at each other and another duel ensued. Ron put himself in front of a table and used it as a barricade, he grabbed a nearby empty ink vial and made it slightly bigger with an engorgement charm, while Harry was now sending jinxes and hexes at Ron.

'Think like a chess player. Think like a chess player.'

But it was useless, Harry had managed to disarm him once more, and this time Ron was at his mercy, he briefly wondered if he even had a chance to begin with. He wondered if perhaps this was Gryffindor's way of punishing him for being his champion. It was honestly expected, there was no way in hell that Ron could actually win against Harry, his yearmates were now witnesses of that.

Harry was panting, as well as Ron who was also sweating profusely thanks to the amount of effort he put into winning against Harry. His best friend picked up his wand, walked to Ron's side, before wiping his eyes and handing his best friend his own wand. Harry looked around the room as the majority of their housemates lwere averting their eyes, and it was at that moment that it must've occurred to Harry that he had just beaten their supposed champion. Harry looked at Ron with a guilty expression, Ron was looking down at his feet.

"Excellent," said Gryffindor. "20 points to Gryffindor, for a remarkable show of skill in the field of duelling, Mr. Potter." Harry looked at Gryffindor as if to shut him up, and Ron was the first out of the class. The day went on to be quite average, Ron enjoyed his hour long free period after dinner, before he joined Harry for Quidditch practice. As they arrived at the Quidditch Field Ron was still the main object of attraction that day, seeing as people were going and sitting down by the stands apparently expecting a show from the Champion of Gryffindor.

They made a few laps around the Quidditch Pitch, before training began. Now, normally during practice Ron wasn't as horrible as one would think, but the presence of an abnormal amount of students on the stands for a mere practice was unnerving, he couldn't have done worse barely blocking the Quaffles going his way.

'Come on,' Gryffindor's voice said in his head. 'Don't give up.'

'Maybe I should,' thought Ron. 'It'll save me the embarrassment.'

'You're just nervous, there's nothing wrong with that.'

'And if I'm nervous during a bloody practice, then how am I supposed to deal with the real thing… Or that bloody stupid Tournament!'

Ron didn't hear what Gryffindor told him next, as a Quaffle went right at his head, causing a majority of the people in the stands to laugh out loud. As practice finished Ron made his way quickly to the Gryffindor Tower. He wanted nothing more than to take himself to bed and stay there until Saturday for the game. Unfortunately for him it was a Wednesday, so he would have to endure a whole week of classes before that could happen.

On his way somehow he managed to catch Cormac McLaggen, he was giving him a dirty look and he approached Ron in a way that made him resemble Malfoy.

"Who would've thought?" asked McLaggen. "First, you take Potter the prefect position from him, and now you'll shame the name of Gryffindor as his champion."

"What do you want, McLaggen?" asked Ron, asking himself what he had done to the sixth-year.

"Nothing in particular, I just can't wait to see you make a fool of yourself next game."

As Ron made his way past McLaggen he could hear the whispering, the looks and laughs that people held for him. It was tiring, he wanted to shout at them and tell them to bugger off, but the confidence and determination he had that morning had died down completely. He didn't wait for either Harry and Hermione and went straight to his dorm room and set himself to do his homework.

He dumped all of his books on his bed and began writing down the Herbology essay he had been assigned. He managed to write out a mediocre essay regarding Chinese Chomping Cabbages, before he put his essay back inside his bag and slept through the night. His dreams wouldn't leave him alone either, there he would be in front of the whole school making a fool of himself and shaming the name of Gryffindor, Hermione and Harry would be there telling him that what they were expecting was a mediocre performance from their mediocre friend.

As a bright and cold Saturday came in, Ron was the target of more and more staring and laughing, they wouldn't do it when he was in front of them of course, instead they would wait until he was far enough to whisper and criticize him under their breath. He realized that this was Harry's life at the start of the year, constant avoidance by most of the student body, an inability to dream peacefully, the continuous annoyance that he would feel as he rounded a corner and a hall would go quiet, yet as he continued to compare their situations guilt set in.

Who was he to compare himself to Harry's life? He didn't need to or want to dwell on those thoughts and instead made his way to breakfast. On his way to the Great Hall he crossed paths with a group of Slytherins who wore badges in the form of crowns proudly on their robes.

And written on green letters was the phrase: "Weasley is Our King". And whatever it meant Ron guessed it wasn't any good.

As he sat down at the Gryffindor table a letter suddenly landed down upon him, delivered by none other than the family owl Errol. He recognized the red envelope as a Howler, he quickly grabbed the letter and ran with all his might to his private quarters by the bottom of the Gryffindor tower. He fumbled with the password before he closed the portrait door now inside the room and opened the red angry letter.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" his mother's voice screamed. "YOU COME BACK A YEAR AFTER YOUR OWN BEST FRIEND ALMOST DIED IN A TOURNAMENT AND YOU THINK IS A GOOD IDEA TO JOIN ONE AS WELL! I AM INCREDIBLY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU YOUNG MAN! IT SEEMS THAT BECOMING A PREFECT HAS NOT HELPED YOUR RULE-BREAKING HABITS ONE BIT! YOU'RE FATHER IS DOING EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO STOP THIS MADNESS ONCE AND FOR ALL! YOU CAN BE REST ASSURED YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL CONTINUE AT CHRISTMAS! I CANNOT BELIE–"

His mother continued to ramble on about responsibility and a whole lot of shite that Ron wasn't really interested in. He toned it out hoping to Merlin that the people outside couldn't hear a word that his mother continued to scream. Fred and George had done several worse things by choice and had never received a bloody howler, yet the moment that someone else chooses for him Ron receives his second howler in Weasley history? It wasn't fair.

"–I WILL SEE YOU AT HOME! And please make sure to let Harry and Hermione know they can stay at the Burrow during the holidays, I'd love to have them here." She ended in a much nicer tone for Harry and Hermione because of course she would. The letter blew raspberries at Ron tore itself apart. Ron discreetly stepped out of the secret room and went back to the Great Hall.

He found himself unable to eat anything at breakfast. Hermione, Luna and Harry were reassuring him, years later Ron would forget everything that occurred that morning, except for one minor thing… Hermione Granger had laid a kiss on his cheek, it was soft and blissful and he briefly wondered if that bliss would ever settle on his lips. There came a calm were he completely forgot all about stupid tournaments, champions and Slytherin badges. There was only the gentle sensation of Hermione's lips.

His feet were moving at their own accord, they managed to bring him to the Quidditch Pitch where the match was about to take place. As the Gryffindor Team soared through the air, many caught glimpses of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin sitting near the Head of House of both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

To say that Ron was playing horribly was an understatement, every single Quaffle seemed to pass through him, there was nothing he could do, the calm and bliss that Hermione's kiss had briefly brought him was now gone, replaced now by dread and fear of disappointing his teammates. And that stupid bloody song! They kept jeering and jeering, singing and singing, he wanted Harry to catch the Snitch so that this nightmare could be finally over.

'Concentrate,' Gryffindor told him in his head. 'Come on, Ron. I know you can-'

'Shut the bloody hell up before I go down there and stuff your beard up your own arse!' Ron thought fiercely. He knew it wasn't all Gryffindor's fault, he wasn't the reason Ron was playing so badly, that was all Ron's fault. He didn't hear a single thing from Gryffindor the rest of the game, where thankfully Harry managed to catch the Snitch before they could lose by a big disadvantage.

There was a celebration as always, but Ron didn't take any part in it. He walked to the Changing Room where he threw his chest gear hard on the ground. He sat there brooding on his own, why couldn't things ever go his way? He didn't want to be the bloody Minister of Magic or anything, he just wanted to be in the spotlight for a mere moment of glory not teasing and mocking. He wanted what Harry had every time he won a Quidditch game, what Charlie, Fred and George had as well. He wanted what Bill and Percy had when they became prefect and Head Boy, not a lousy excuse for a congratulations.

Was he ungrateful? Very much, he had a loving family unlike Harry. Charlie was the last one of the family to actually win a Quidditch Cup, Fred and George hadn't done that until Ron's third year. But what about Bill and Percy? Percy got an owl while Ron got stuck with a second hand wand and a traitorous rat. Bill worked as a curse-breaker, he worked outside his mother's constant smothering. He realized a truth so long ago, but Ron Weasley still held hope, however, seeing his friends do nothing, his sister doing nothing with something as mundane as a song opened Ron's eyes, he wasn't an equal in his own family, and he had denied it for far too long.

Ron would've continued to brood if it hadn't been for the entrance of the changing room been flapped, Ron didn't need to turn his head to know who it was, the thing about Godric Gryffindor was that he had a big set of boots that made thunder sound like one of those muggle rubber ducks. He didn't say anything as he sat down besides Ron, what could he say? Congratulations on being Hogwarts's biggest loser? Perhaps he was there to give him a card that said 'Happy Humiliation!' wrapped in a red ribbon.

But instead he just sat there in silence with Ron, he didn't voice a single thought as he sat alongside the young Weasley boy. Seeing as his founder remained silent he continued to drown in his own self-pity, however, not even five seconds after he started Gryffindor was already speaking.

"I used to be the laughing stock," he said while looking at the rings of the Quidditch Field. "Everyone laughed at me, they never saw me as anything but the buffoon of the four of us. My healing magic couldn't compare to Helga's, compared to Rowena's my transfiguration was shite, and Salazar's knowledge against fighting the dark arts was infinitely better than mine. I was the odd one out, the one that never fit, destined to always live in the shadow of my best friends…"

Ron didn't know what to say. Godric Gryffindor overshadowed? How could one of the most brilliant wizards of all time be the laughing stock in any place?

"How did you do it?" the question had left Ron's mouth before he had time to stop it. "How did you… How did you get out of their shadow?" Gryffindor looked at him for a second, before going back to watching the rings. He took a deep breath and took off his dragon hide gloves, revealing scarred hands, previously hurt by some of the worst curses, jinxes and hexes Ron had ever seen on a person's skin. He guessed it would even rival Mad-eye's scarred face.

"Training," he said simply, and he put his gloves back on. "A fuckload of training. Had I not done it I would've never been able to be who I am today," Ron took in his words, he knew he wasn't kidding, nor that this was some type of excuse to lift his spirits up, because the kind of training that did that to his hands must've been one that would make even some of the most experienced Aurors think twice before doing.

"Then train me," Gryffindor didn't lift his gaze off the rings. "Train me like you trained. Help me…" Gryffindor kept his gaze on the rings but lifted his right hand to rub his eyes.

"You'll be spitting out blood daily," he said as if discussing the weather. But it wasn't a promise or a threat, it was a warning. Ron gulped as he settled his eyes defiantly at Gryffindor, who finally looked back at Ron and blue crashed with blue.

"I want to get stronger," Ron said. "I want to be what you think I can become. I want to… I want to stop being a burden to my friends for once. I want to protect them… So please teach me how to protect them." A smile settled beneath Gryffindor's beard as he stood up and extended his hand at Ron.

"Then let the training begin my apprentice," a smile settled on Ron's face as he shook hands with Gryffindor. His training was about to begin.

Ron found himself at the stadium alongside his mentor, last time he had been there the shock of everything hadn't let him fully appreciate just how big the place was, the entrance to the stadium was not a direct one, but instead it had sideway paths where staircases could be seen most definitely leading to the stands. The stands themselves were large enough to fit all of Hogwarts, the stadium where they were standing was large and spacious, it was about half the size of the Great Hall.

"Mr. Weasley," said Gryffindor, bringing Ron's attention to the older wizard. "We shall first establish some rules before starting the training regiment." Ron nodded, he figured this wouldn't be easy. "Rule number 1: You must alway address me as Master Gryffindor."

"Rule number 2: I want you to always listen to me no matter what, every order I give you should be taken as a command."

"And rule number 3: If you ever need to stop, don't think twice before informing me. The training I'll be putting you through is incredibly demanding, if you ever feel like you need to stop you tell me. Understood?" The last order was spoken so fiercely Ron felt the hairs on his nape momentarily stand up, before he nodded once more. Gryffindor waved his wand and conjured a set of what looked like to be bandages.

"Sir- I mean, Master Gryffindor?" Ron quickly corrected himself. Gryffindor handed the set of four bandages to Ron while he himself conjured a second set of bandages.

"I want you to follow my movements," he started wrapping his forearm and hands with the bandages that up close looked to be made of cloth. He followed his movements and ended up with two wrapped hands that made him look like one of those barmy muggle fighters. Gryffindor proceeded to take off his boots leaving him bare feet, he looked once at Ron and his eyes drifted to Ron's large shoes, he quickly got the message and removed his own shoes from his feet. He continued the process of wrapping his feet with the clothing wrap while Ron mirrored him. As he finished Ron got most of his foot wrapped as well as some of his calf, the only parts uncovered were his toes and heels.

"I've noticed that in duelling you fall behind in wand and wrist movement," he said in his low and deep voice. "With these your overall movement will improve significantly." Ron tilted his head as if to question him, before Gryffindor brandished his wand and aimed it at Ron's right wrapped hand. "Gravibus decem" he casted and Ron could feel the bandages on his hands get heavier, it felt as if his hand had gotten ten times bigger. Gryffindor proceeded to cast the charm on all of his bandages, Ron's body felt quite heavy and walking as well as waving his arms felt much more tiring than before.

"I've just increased the weights of your wraps by ten times," Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "From now on you will sleep, eat, train and study with those wraps unless I specifically order you not to." Ron gulped while he looked at his new mentor, he wasn't kidding when he said those things about spitting blood.

"Now we'll begin with simple charms that are used in duelling, is that understood?" asked Gryffindor.

"Yes, Master Gryffindor," Ron said.

"Not only will these help your wand-work, but also your stamina and resistance."

"I'm sorry Master Gryffindor, but why is that so important for my training? I mean, I'd reckon wand-work is useful, but what does stamina and resistance have to do with anything?"

"You still need to use your words to cast any spell. Until you've learned non-verbal spells you'll rely on your lungs and vocal cords to cast any spell. Can't suppose you'll be able to cast anything when you're winded and panting, can you?"

"Suppose not."

"Then let's begin."

For the rest of the day Ron spent his time running laps around the stadium, casting spells and perfecting his wand movement. Even when he felt like his muscles were about to burst from exhaustion he didn't stop, afraid that his lack of determination would prompt Gryffindor to stop his training.

Gryffindor settled down in his own quarters, which he shared with Rowena. It had been a tiring day mentoring his apprentice, there was fight in him, of that he was sure of. What pained him mostly is how much he resembled himself at his young age, full of doubts and self-loathing unable to see his worth. As he rubbed his tired blue eyes the door of his room swung open, he didn't have to look to know who it was.

She probably looked as gorgeous as always, how he'd gotten so lucky he had no idea. She settled by his side on top of the bed they shared, she placed her hands on his head as she tenderly settled him on her lap while she stroked her fingers through his mane of red hair. It was incredibly calming.

"Was it that bad, darling?" she asked.

"He's so much like me," he said in an almost pained voice. "You were right, as always," he added the last part knowing it would put a sly smirk on her face. "He's unable to see his own worth, and the other students aren't really helping," he sounded angry at the mention of Ron's constant teasing and mockery. It was quite hard to contain himself.

"I believe that's a good thing," she said, he looked at her dark eyes and raised his eyebrow as if to ask 'Really'. "Believe it or not, you can be quite good when you're not eating, training or swearing."

"Oi!" he said in mock indignation. "That's more than half of what I do. How would you feel if I say you weren't such a bother when you didn't have a book up your nose?" she huffed at his attempt at humour.

"You're such an idiot," but she didn't mean it. She never meant it.

"But you still married me, didn't you my love?" He raised himself and was right in front of her at once, he kissed her lips tenderly and put his hands on her waist. He swallowed a moan that managed to escape her mouth, as her hands continued to roam his mane, now aggressively tugging his head impossibly closer to her. He knew the feeling, when they were affectionate Gryffindor didn't feel like letting go either.

"And I'll never regret it," she said as they parted ways for lack of oxygen. He peppered kisses along her jaw and neck, she whimpered under his touch. Then, she grabbed his mane once more and brought his lips back to hers and kissed him good and hard. "But for now my brave lion-" kiss "-I need you to focus on your mentor."

"What?" he said, forgetting all about Ron momentarily. "Come here," he said as he brought her lips back to his.

"I'm serious Godric," she said once she found the strength to detach herself from him. "We'll have time for this later."

"But later is not now," Godric almost whined.

"And nothing will happen in the now," she retorted.

"And neither will it happen in the later either," he replied, bothered. She looked at him disbelievingly, before she scoffed at him.

"Are you seriously holding out?" she said with half surprise and half annoyance.

"Maybe," he said defiantly.

"You won't last a day."

"Deal."

Percy Weasley was not happy. Not one bit. Now, he knew that Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory had been unfortunate victims of an accident during last year's tournament. And that those accidents had involved the Cruciatus curse as well as many other unfortunate injuries, Dark Lord or not those types of injuries couldn't be faked. They'd been attacked and hurt because they were the Champions of Hogwarts. Percy didn't particularly hate nor disliked Harry, but he wouldn't go as far as to say he loved him.

His brother on the other hand. His baby brother, who managed to save his sister from the Chamber of Secrets at 12 years old. His baby brother, the one that somehow broke his leg and was almost attacked by a serial killer rumored to be in league with Voldemort in his third year alone. His brother, who was now competing in a possibly dangerous tournament.

And Percy had no way of stopping it, he tried intercepting Ron during his free time, but his little brother had apparently taken it to hide in his dorm room. He couldn't even talk to Lord Gryffindor, as the founder roamed every hall of the school and rarely followed the same path, it was only during meals where he could intercept him and even then he wouldn't even let Percy get a word in.

"If you must speak with me, do it outside of meal times," he said.

The thought that perhaps Gryffindor was avoided came to his mind. It would make sense seeing as every other person in the Hogwarts staff had an opportunity to speak to him. How could he choose Ron? Why couldn't he choose Potter? The boy had already gone through something similar before, surely he could go through it again. Why did it have to be his baby brother?

He knew this tournament wasn't the Ministry's concern, Minister Fudge had specifically said so, he didn't want any attention on either Dumbledore, Harry, or Cedric Diggory. But, couldn't the rules be altered a bit, it was his brother after all, shouldn't the Minister be able to exempt him from this one thing. He was the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic, it had to mean something, and whatever it did he was sure to make use of it, if it meant helping his brother out of his mess.

The Dark Lord was furious, Lucius knew that, his expression didn't have to be shown to know it. Everything surrounding him seemed to be destroyed in a matter of seconds, he held on to his wand as if it was the only thing worthy enough to be treated fairly. Lucius inches slightly closer, before subtly bowing his head down.

"M-my Lord," crimson eyes were immediately on him as soon as the words left his mouth. "Perhaps, we should try other options to get your ancestor on your side."

Voldemort set his gaze on Lucius for a few more seconds before drifting away, he gripped his wand slightly tighter and his spider-like fingers seemed to be itching for something to kill, and Malfoy prayed to anyone that something wasn't him.

Ever since Draco had sent back the letter announcing the Champions chosen for the tournament the Dark Lord had been nothing but furious. The Greengrass family were known members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but so were the Malfoys and the blood-traitor Weasleys. Apparently, Voldemort's plan involved Lucius's own son to be Slytherin's Champion, but now his plan was out of course. Getting the Greengrass on their side wouldn't be a problem, they were a proud pure-blooded family and although they showed themselves as neutral they firmly believed in pure-blood supremacy.

It would be difficult to convince them, but certainly worth the effort in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Lucius made his way to his study where he basically crumbled onto his chair, exhausted by the Dark Lord's presence. As he rubbed his tired eyes he felt the calming presence of his wife by his side.

"How are things with the Dark Lord?" she asked as she rubbed his shoulders in a comforting manner. He almost shuddered as his wife mentioned the person who in a tantrum would kill them without hesitating. "That bad Lucius?" He nodded almost unconsciously, she kneeled down beside him kissing his cheek lightly, her round lips feeling like a small comforting flame among the dark corners of their home.

"I don't know how long it will take before he kills me," he said closing his eyes, although the words meant something unbearable to the woman beside him, to Lucius they were a possibility, a reality that he could face any day now.

"You'll figure it out, darling," she said as he kissed his closed eyelids. "You have to, for Draco and for me."

Lucius simply nodded as he stood up and put on his cloak.

"I'll be going out," he said. "I must make a visit to the Greengrass residence. I want you to leave as well, I don't want you staying at home with the Dark Lord."

Narcissa nodded as Lucius stepped into the fire disappearing behind green flames.