Autumn 1991
Ronald Weasley
"It is not a spell of subtlety," Salazar said as he paced back and forth in front of his pedestal. "Magic is, like many things, an equal balance of harsh and soft. Two ends of a spectrum with a million degrees of context resting vicariously between. I would say that this spell, Bombarda, rests firmly in the clutches of the harsh side. And therefore, boy, you must take extra care. It is to be your greatest triumph yet, but it could also be your undoing if you are not so careful."
Ron nodded, it didn't take much convincing for him to imagine that the exploding charm could go horribly wrong. After all, generally, he would rather not be exploded. He could feel cold sweat forming on the back of his neck as his mind raced through the consequences of failure.
Sal had assured him that it was perfectly fine to use the spell indoors, especially in a room as large as the room of requirement, which seemed to grow and shrink at Salazar's command. Yet, Ron couldn't help but feel a nervous swell in his chest. Thankfully, he had managed to sleep the night before, his exhaustion having mostly retreated from his limbs. It meant he was alert, or at least, more alert than he had been in a few weeks. Only, the alertness had the consequence of his eyes having the energy to roam over the stone walls and imagine how they might crumble down on top of him. He resisted the urge to cower.
"You will be fine," Sal assured him. "If I was at all concerned about your safety, I would not be teaching you this spell. As I may remind you, it is my duty as much as it is yours, to protect this school. Something I can not do if I bury you in rubble."
"But, it is dangerous?" Ron asked. He knew the answer, he was only hoping it wasn't true.
"Certainly, but many spells are. Especially those that are most useful in times of extreme circumstance. Spells of last resort, those which inflict almost irrecoverable wounds on your foes. Which may be disastrous, but necessary. Some wizards, those who care little for the trail they leave behind them, would make a spell such as this their primary weapon. A clumsy and infantile use of magic. It is like using a sword when a dagger would do. That is to say, boy, that a blade is dangerous, but when used properly, it is a tool first and foremost."
"Of last resort?" Ron asked. "So, I shouldn't use it?"
"Well, no. You should reach for whatever you need in any given circumstance. It's more that you shouldn't rely on it, especially not at your age. This spell is likely to drain you and leave you physically exhausted. This is why, for today, I will only have you cast it twice successfully. I would not want you to labour yourself too greatly. And, had you been in a bad mood, I would say you shouldn't cast it at all. As it is with the disarming spell, using too much of your emotion can amplify the power of the spell and I am not sure how well you would manage that. It could cause you to fall into a deep slumber, and I care not to watch you snore for the next several days."
At least I'd have no nightmares.
Ron stepped into the centre of the room and stood as Salazar directed, his feet planted firmly against small indents into the floor that the room had created. They were intended, as Sal said, to provide a better grip in the case that he accidentally overpowered the spell and sent force spreading back through his arms. The precaution didn't calm Ron's mind and he worried that he was getting in over his head.
It seemed rather ridiculous to him that he could learn to cause explosions and rip apart objects with pure force but was as of yet not allowed to learn the killing curse. Sal had told him why, but even while believing in the founder, Ron still harboured his own doubts. He would have rathered the power to kill instantly than to mess about with blowing things apart. He knew, from his own morbid curiosity, that the unforgivable curses could not be blocked. It was why Harry was so famous; he was the only person to ever survive the killing curse. So, it seemed just as well to Ron that he should learn an unblockable spell instead of an explosion that a powerful wizard could just brush aside.
Sal gave him a grim look, and Ron smiled nervously. It was unnatural to have your thoughts read, and he didn't take much mind in keeping his thoughts away from subjects that Salazar didn't like.
The founder rose a hand into the air and summoned four shimmering figures from thin air. Yellow, blue, purple, and red, gathered together some distance from Ron. He went to bite his cheek but stopped himself. The cold sweat had travelled down his body and into his arms and hands creating a clammy surface on the warmness of the wand.
"They're too close," he said, his voice wavering.
Salazar rolled his eyes. "Nonsense, boy. How far do you wish them to be? So far that you can't even touch them? No, this distance is good. Should you fall short, you won't be harmed, just taken slightly with the pressure. Not enough to rupture organs, eardrums, or the like. As I said, I take your safety into deep consideration."
"Rupture organs! Merlin!"
"As I said, almost irrecoverable wounds."
"But isn't that a bit excessive?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be better just to kill them outright?"
Sal shrugged. "If they are close enough for the pressure to disrupt them so greatly, they are close enough to die in the explosion."
Ron grimaced, suddenly hoping that he never faced another wizard who knew the exploding charm. The more he learned about it the worse and worse it sounded.
He wiped his palm on the front of his robes, smearing away the sweat and then took a better hold of his wand. He raised it as Sal instructed and practised the deep flick that the spell required, carefully keeping his mind trained elsewhere as to not accidentally cast anything. Of course, he had never cast a wordless spell before but he thought it was probably a very bad time for that to happen.
When he was confident enough in the movement, Sal gave him permission to try the spell properly. His head started to pound under the pressure of expectations, the thump of his heart reverberating through his body. He took a deep breath and held it for a second before finally letting go.
"Bombarda!" He said the word viciously and felt his magic act in kind.
His wand pulsed red and for less than a second the world seemed to stand still. A great cloud of dust sprayed into the air from the feet of the four targets carrying small gravel-sized bits of stone across the room. They rained down around Ron but far enough away that he was in no danger of being hit. It sounded as if he was in the centre of a particularly bad spot of hail crashing down all at once.
No longer than it had taken for him to cast the spell, the room returned to its usual quiet. The four targets were completely missing, dissolved in the flash of dust and debris.
"Bloody hell!" Ron glanced up at Sal as he nearly dropped his wand. His arm ached terribly as if he had slammed it into a wall.
Sal smiled down at him. "I would say that you could not have done better."
"That was wicked!" Ron couldn't help but let a smile creep across his face. "I've never felt so powerful."
"There is a reason why great wizards seek power," Salazar nodded. "It's not always as simple as ambition. True power is in its purest form addictive, and it is hard to not be enticed. I am sure you can name many wizards who have done great things simply because they enjoyed the process."
"Are they all like this?" Ron asked. He could get used to the feeling in his chest. It was as if all of the pressures he had been facing had melted away.
"If you enjoy learning spells of this calibre, then it is a good possibility," Sal said, seemingly quite pleased with himself.
Ron glanced back towards the impact zone. The spell had left a mild gash in the floor that left the edges scarred and mangled. Morbidly, he imagined what it would be like to use the spell against another wizard. It had to be even worse than Sal said. He couldn't see how the spell would do anything except rip someone apart. The thought excited him and made him nervous all at once.
They were in a group,the thought flooded his mind. In his vision, the men who had attacked Charlie marched in a tight formation. The kind of formation that wasn't too dissimilar to how the targets had stood. If he could do the same thing he had done, place the spell directly in the centre of the group, he could shred them all to pieces. Which meant he could save Charlie's life, all he had to do was strike first.
"It can be blocked," Salazar broke his thoughts. "Not easily, and not without significant willpower, but it can be done. A skilled wizard, especially one who duels regularly, will be able to cast a shield before the explosion happens."
"But what if they don't know?" Ron countered. "I could hide and cast it from the shadows."
Sal nodded. "Yes, that would be potent. That is truly the mark of a Slytherin, a Gryffindor would announce himself and die in the attempt. I am a man of honour, Ron, but there is no honour in dying. Keep that in mind. Should you find yourself in a situation such as that, or others where lives are at stake, do not hesitate to be cunning or even deceitful."
Ron nodded, he didn't know if it was just his age but he didn't have a good grasp on what honour even meant. He wasn't willing to die for something he didn't even understand. He just wanted his brother to live, and he had already long decided that he would do whatever it took. It didn't matter to him if he was acting like a Slytherin. After all, his grandmother had been one hadn't she? If anything, he decided, he was only doing what was in his blood.
"Is there a way to make the spell better? In case I miss?" He asked, imagining his spell flying past a target and exploding among tents.
"In the way you mean? No. There isn't any shortcut to skill and practice. Accuracy with a wand is an acquired skill that can not be replaced with cheap tricks," Sal answered. "However, there is an improved version of the spell,Bombarda Maxima,which simply creates a stronger explosion. I would not recommend you try it, given what I said about exhaustion."
Ron's eyes widened slightly. "Merlin, an even stronger version? That's mental." He couldn't begin to picture what such a spell would look like.
"When you are ready," Sal said and waved his hand to re-summon the targets. "You may try again."
Ron took a deep breath and raised his arm. His muscles groaned in resistance and he couldn't help but wince. His arm was far heavier than normal and shot dull pain through his chest.
"Stop," Salazar interrupted him. Ron was more than happy to comply, letting his arm drop back down to his side and pulse rhythmically.
"I think I've hurt my arm," he said honestly. He hadn't felt any impact, but he must have been hit by a loose section of stone.
Sal frowned. "No, you are not hurt, boy. I have simply overestimated your tolerance. Which, you must forgive me as I've not been your age in far too many years. It seems your limit for this spell is simply once. Which, as you are still so young, is not a terrible tragedy."
Ron returned the founder's frown. "But what if I need to do it more than once?"
"I would have you avoid such situations, but if you can't, it is better to spend time mending muscles than it is to die."
Ron exhaled and placed his wand back into its spot in his pocket. The feeling of power completely vanished from his body. Once again he was frustrated with his age and the fact that he couldn't cast the spells that he wanted to. It made him feel helpless as if his head was far below the waves which threatened to drown him. He could feel himself standing on the threshold of power and danger, only being held back by things he couldn't change.
A/N: I truly appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this work, review it, favourite it, or follow it. You have my deepest thanks. :)