5,335Enjoy!
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 few more Ron fics out there that are on point! They're called 'There and Back Again' by Chuchi Otaku, 'Stay Standing' by Windschild8178, 'Scala ad Caelum' by GRND (criminally underated story, so go give it some love), 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)
Chapter 165 – Barkashtra
Ronald Weasley's POV
Thursday 1st July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Late Evening)
"What do you think?" Pansy asked, twirling to face him.
Ron looked around the dining room, feeling as though he were in the heart of Hufflepuff without ever having seen it. "Loads of flowers, baskets of fresh fruit, a warm hearth, barrels of wine fixed into the walls, black and yellow as the colour scheme, even a portrait of Helga Hufflepuff herself… I like it. It feels very cosy, Pans. Very beautiful." How much did these renovations cost her? I doubt she even knows, or cares.
"You're welcome here anytime," Pansy beamed, stepping closer.
"I'll keep that in mind," Ron chuckled. "Why the private tour, Pansy? I'm sure Draco would've liked to join us."
"I wanted to spend some time with you," Pansy shrugged. "Before Daphne claims you, that is."
"Claims me?"
"Oh, please," Pansy laughed. "If she got her way, you'd have her name tattooed on your forehead. She never did like sharing, that girl. I'll give Draco a tour later, but, for now, I want you all to myself." Well, it is her birthday, and the birthday girl should get her way.
"Make sure that you do," Ron said, smiling fondly. She does look very beautiful, tonight. "What you said about your parents… You upset Blaise." But pleased me more than you can imagine.
"Did I?" Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Is that why he was brooding, again?" I certainly didn't help matters, but his tone irked me. All I've ever done is look after you, made sure you were safe and happy. What has he done for you, exactly? Fucking nothing. "Ron? Is everything okay? He seemed cross with you."
"I love Blaise, and I love that he has the bollocks to speak his mind with me, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. Show me the bedrooms, will you?"
"Ooooooh, gladly," Pansy bit her lower lip, making him roll his eyes.
"Stop that."
"Never!" she took him by his left hand, dragging him along. "Care to take a guess which House-?"
"Slytherin," Ron answered. "Luxury and comfort."
"Always knew you were clever," Pansy laughed, tightening her grip on his hand. She's missed me quite a bit, it seems. She's taking every opportunity to touch me, hug me, hold my hand… I suppose, my coldness towards her hurt her more than I realized. Well, as long as she learned her lesson, I'm fine with some hurt feelings. Shortcuts lead to disaster, and with her wealth and power, those disasters can hurt a lot of people. I should know, I've taken shortcuts which ended up hurting good people, and I don't want her making the same mistakes. I don't want her living with the same guilt.
They travelled up the recently renovated stairs, heading into the western wing of the extensive manor. "Your room is directly across from mine, Ron. Just in case."
"Just in case?" he asked, already knowing what was coming next.
"I get cold, sometimes," Pansy shot a mischievous look back. "If that happens tonight, I want you as close as possible."
"I haven't decided whether I'll spend the night, Pans," he admitted, making her stop.
"What? You're going to leave? Ron, no… We're supposed to get crazy drunk, tonight!"
"Last time I got 'crazy drunk', I got into a fight with a thunder-chicken above Mount Greylock."
"…What?"
"Never mind," Ron muttered under his breath, remembering his fierce battle against Brightbeak. My bollocks still hurt whenever I think about it. "Pansy, there are some people who need my help, and they're in a lot of trouble. I can't afford to become 'crazy drunk', not when so much is at stake." What if Argenope attacks this very night? Zotair needs me, and I can't let him down. I won't. His people have suffered too much, already.
"So, you're not drinking at all?" Pansy asked, looking terribly disappointed.
"I'll have a couple of drinks," he negotiated. "I don't want you to be upset, okay? Please, just try to understand the position I'm in."
Pansy let out an exaggerated sigh, before smiling softly. "You're always helping someone, aren't you?" There's a lot of people who need help, so what choice do I have? "You're so sweet, I can't even stay mad at you."
Ron gave her an appreciative nod, smiling his golden smile. "Thank you."
Her face flushed even more so, and then, she tugged at his hand. "Let me show you the room, regardless, in case you change your mind."
They continued on their journey, eventually entering the guest room she'd prepared solely for him. It reminded him immensely of the Slytherin common room, darkly-lit and full of mystique, and yet, also sophisticated, bordering on lavish, with a massive, curtained bed and possessing everything a person could ever need to make themselves presentable before entering the world. Feels like home, in a way. The perfect mixture of modern and classical furniture, the mellow-green tint all around, the silver serpents dancing on the walls… An honest tribute to Slytherin, far away from Hogwarts.
"Is every room like this one?" Ron asked, thoroughly impressed.
"Not as grand, perhaps, but the aesthetic is the same," Pansy answered.
"So, I've seen Gryffindor, I've seen Hufflepuff, and, now, I've seen Slytherin. What about Ravenclaw? Which part of the manor represents the House of the bookworms?"
"The library, silly," Pansy giggled. "Obviously." She doesn't realize that most homes don't come with a private library. "The renovations aren't complete in there, yet, so I've sealed off that part of the manor."
"The library is the last to be finished," Ron sniggered. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Are you calling me stupid?" Pansy laughed, scandalized. "You prat!"
"No, not stupid, just not interested in books," Ron winked, pulling her close before she could retort. "You're not the only one who's allowed to tease." Nice perfume.
"I flirt, whereas you're mean," Pansy narrowed her eyes, despite her happy smile. "There's a subtle difference, I know, and you never were very subtle, so I'll let it slide."
"Thank you, Lady Parkinson," Ron said humbly. "You're too kind."
"Aren't I?" Pansy hummed, tilting her head. "You should show me how much you appreciate my kindness, as any gentleman would."
"I already have," Ron reminded her. "An interview with Witch Weekly? A stylish, leather jacket? Ring any bells?"
"They do, but it's not enough."
"What will it take, then?"
Pansy stared at him, both amused and gratified. "…Ask me after you've had something to drink." Oh? So, she does want something else? I'm willing to indulge her, tonight, if it's within reason.
"Then, escort me to the ballroom," Ron let her go, his eyes fixed on her veiled face. Her parents' funeral… Ha! They don't deserve one, but this is somehow even better! "Actually, before we go… I heard about the American Aurors, Pans, and how you dealt with them."
"…Ah, that…" she lost some of her mirth. "Not fun, not in the slightest."
"I'm proud of you," Ron spoke his mind outright, surprising her. "Not only because you handled the Americans perfectly, but also because you had the wisdom to burn your parents' wretched collection. You and I, Pans… We both understand a basic fact that is lost on our friends." Especially Blaise.
"That the world is better off without such dangerous baubles? Without the insinuation of keeping such objects in your very home?"
"Exactly," Ron said, nodding ever so gently. "This is truly your home, now, because you cut the very memory of your parents out of it. You're better off without them."
"I know, Ron."
He smiled, again, reaching forward with his gloved hand and placing it upon her flushed cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Pans. Never again." I watched you die in this house once, but, now, it belongs to you, and I swear you'll never be in danger here, again. "I um…" he paused, clearing his throat and steeling his mind. "… I love you very much. Even when we disagree, it doesn't change how I feel. I need you to know that." Pansy was left speechless, her mouth hanging open, so Ron decided to save himself any further embarrassment by changing the subject. "Let's go, eh? I'm sure your guests miss you." It had to be said, because she needed to hear it. Nothing to be ashamed of, old boy.
"I thought she invited only the popular lot," Ron said dryly, staring at the brimming ballroom. Who isn't here, exactly? The fucking Professors?
"Hogwarts is a very large castle," Draco shrugged. "Easy to forget that, sometimes." I don't like this. It's noisy in here. "Well? Aren't you going to start mingling?"
"Are you?" Ron asked in response.
"I'm working up the courage, yes."
Ron looked to the glass of Butterbeer in Draco's hand, frowning slightly. "Where did you get that? And why didn't you get me one?"
"Parkin-… Pansy… She installed a fountain that flows with the stuff, right in the centre of the ballroom," Draco informed him. "As for why I didn't get you one… I couldn't. Not even if I wanted to."
"Why's that?"
"Her Elves are keeping a track of the alcohol consumption. There are first and second years here, remember? If you're Pansy's age, or older, you can drink as much as you like. The rest have a limit imposed on them, one that the Elves are taking very seriously." That's rather responsible of her. "Go to the fountain, all right? They'll give you a glass, and you can fill it yourself." Ugh! I have to walk through the damn crowd, then.
"Technically, Tracey and Daphne are younger than Pansy."
"They're the exceptions to the rule, I imagine."
"…Right, I'll be back, then," Ron exhaled, heading off.
Putting on a friendly smile, he entered the jubilant crowd, being greeted from every direction as he made his way through. Just keep moving, old boy. Don't stop for-…
"Ron, you're here!" Padma stepped into his path, blocking him. Just like that, huh? Out of nowhere? Fuck… "Nice suit! So fancy!"
"Too fancy for my liking," Parvati joined her sister, giving him a knowing grin. "I was hoping you'd show up shirtless, personally." Do you want your face clawed off by a certain Greengrass? Because this is how you get your face clawed off by a certain Greengrass.
"…Parvati…" Padma didn't look pleased with her twin's comment, not that Parvati cared. "Sorry about my sister, Ron, but she's been enjoying the Butterbeer fountain from the moment we arrived."
"It's all right," Ron said reassuringly, eyeing their foreign attires. "You both look great. Nice… dresses."
"Sarees, that's what they're called!" Parvati laughed, flaunting her scarlet one, whereas Padma straightened her sky-blue one. "What do you think?! It took me hours to convince Padma to wear a matching one!"
"No, it didn't! And it was my idea, not yours!" Padma said defensively, looking even more irked than before. "Why do you always do that, Parv?!"
"You should come join us!" Parvati ignored her sister, her eyes fixed solely on Ron. "Lavender's right over there! Chatting with Hannah and Susan!" Make up an excuse! Hurry!
"I'll find you lot after I get myself a drink," Ron said quickly, offering a sorry smile. "…Dry throat, you know?"
"I'll come with you," Padma volunteered. For the love of fuck!
"Sounds brilliant," Ron gestured her to lead the way. Well, you wanted to come here, remember? To celebrate and whatnot? This is how normal people celebrate. Just try to enjoy it.
He followed her to the large, luxuriant Butterbeer fountain, which was encircled by Pansy's House-Elves. Woah, they're wearing uniforms! Actual uniforms! How did Pansy convince them to do that?
"You'll have to ask them for a glass," Padma instructed, and he promptly stepped forward.
"Spiffy uniforms," Ron complimented the nearest Elf, smiling fondly. "Black and purple. Very stylish."
"Lord Weasley is most kind," the Elf bowed his head, before looking up with a proud smile. Not this, again.
"Lord Weasley?" Padma muttered, looking to him for an explanation.
"I'm not a Lord, mate," Ron chuckled awkwardly. "Can I have a glass? For the fountain?"
"Certainly," the Elf snapped his fingers, Conjuring a bulky, silver goblet fitted with several emeralds. What…? "A cup fit for a king, as ordered by the Lady of the Manor." She's either trying to flatter me, or get me drunk. Or, both. Probably both.
"Special treatment much?" Padma laughed bemusedly, staring at the goblet with great interest. "Are those real emeralds? They're quite large, aren't they?" She's not sparing any expenses, that's for certain.
"…Thanks," Ron accepted the goblet, it was a little too heavy for his liking. I shouldn't ask for a normal glass. They would see it as an insult against their Lady's generosity.
Ron moved past the Elf, tipping his goblet into the fountain. At least, it's big enough that I don't have to get my hands dirty. Should I fill it up completely? Why not? It's just my first drink, right? And it's Butterbeer. It won't even get me tipsy. As the goblet began to fill up, he couldn't help but lament the increased weight. My arm's going to be sore tomorrow if I have to carry this thing around all night. I'll have to use my left hand, I suppose, so my wand arm can be fit for duty in case Argenope attacks. Pulling the goblet away from the fountain, Ron took a sip of the refreshing, sweet beverage. Is this from Madam Rosmerta's cellar? It tastes sweeter than usual, doesn't it? Or, am I just imagining that because I rarely ever drink this stuff?
He returned to Padma's side, looking to the Elf. "Sorry about my poor manners, mate, but I never asked your name."
The Elf blinked, as if caught unawares. "…Volpey, Lord Weasley."
"I'll remember that," Ron promised, admiring the uniform once again. "See you around, Volpey."
"Certainly!" Volpey beamed, standing up straighter.
"Shall we?" Ron asked Padma, who gave an affirmative nod.
"That was nice of you," she said as they began walking away.
"What was?" Ron asked in response.
"Asking for his name, of course."
"I liked him," Ron shrugged. "He was a polite chap." And I plan to ask him some questions later on. I want to make sure she's treating them right.
"Why did he call you Lord Weasley, though?" Padma asked, and he was swiftly reminded that Pureblood customs weren't exactly well-known to the masses. "I thought the Weasley family gave up such titles when they separated themselves from high-society?" Never mind… She knows about them, it seems. Never underestimate Ravenclaws, especially how much they love to read.
"I've got a reputation, and I've spent a lot of time in 'high-society'," Ron explained. "House-Elves, especially those serving under Purebloods like the Parkinsons, are raised to follow protocol to the letter, so even if I explain to them that I'm not technically a Lord, and that it bothers me to be called one, they won't understand. In their eyes, they're honouring me as 'befits my station'." He then exhaled, shrugging, again. "Don't worry about it."
"Why does it bother you to be called a Lord?" Padma asked, half-teasing and half-curious. "Most people would like that sort of attention." Idiots who don't know any better, you mean?
"Most people haven't seen what these Lords and Ladies are really like," Ron answered sharply. "The vast majority of them are scum, and the only thing they deserve is-…" he stopped abruptly. Death. "…I just prefer my own name, that's all. I'm Lord of no one, nor do I want to be. I've got enough responsibilities as is." Honestly, becoming a 'Lord' would be a demotion for me. I'm the Champion, there is no higher station than that.
Padma observed him silently, before taking a long sip from her glass. "…I didn't mean to offend you, I'm-"
"You didn't," he reassured her. "I'm just a bit touchy about certain subjects. Sorry." Control, old boy. Drink your drink, and try to not embarrass Pansy.
They walked the rest of the journey in silence, meeting up with Parvati, Hannah, and Susan, all of whom were chatting away about whatever nonsense girls discussed amongst each other.
"There you are!" Parvati greeted them excitedly. "Ron, what's that?!"
"This?" Ron raised his goblet. "It's um… Pansy, she organised this to be my 'glass'."
"That's not a glass!" Hannah laughed, whereas Susan leaned in to properly inspect the jewels.
"Are those real?" Susan asked, and when Ron gave a nod, she gasped. "She should be more careful! What if someone steals it?" One of the mines she now owns produces nothing but gems. I don't think she cares.
"Then, someone here is going to have an army of House-Elves hunting them down," Ron joked, making them laugh. "Are you girls having a good time? Everything to your liking?"
"Are you spying on us for Pansy?" Parvati asked, smirking. Pansy, is it? And, yes, just a tad bit. This party is important to her, and I want it to go well. "Everything's great! There are so many people here! I don't even know where to start!"
"I really loved your performance during the Defence exam," Hannah smiled from ear-to-ear, staring into his eyes in a manner that made him uncomfortable. "Shame you disappeared from Hogwarts right after… You were the talk of the whole school!" My plan worked, then, as expected.
"You're very fit," Susan added, blushing. "More so than any of us realised."
"Unnaturally fit," Padma whispered to herself, but he heard her. Curios about how I did the things I did, eh?
"I'm glad you all enjoyed it," Ron didn't know what else to say, but it seemed to work, as they appeared pleased with his response.
"Could we get another demonstration?" Parvati sniggered. "Maybe, tonight?" What? How would that even work? This is a-…
"Stop it, Parvati," Padma chastised, causing her twin to roll her eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Lavender. Speaking of… Where is she?"
"Seamus came over," Parvati replied in a bored tone, whereas Susan and Hannah giggled amongst themselves. "He wanted to talk to her 'in private'. That boy… He doesn't know when to quit, does he?" All the girls laughed, including Padma, whereas Ron just stared at them. "Oh, you probably don't know, Ron… They sometimes snog, whenever Lavender is in the mood." I do know. I've occasionally seen their names sharing the same broom closet on the Marauder's Map. I also know that Susan likes to 'sneak around' with Terry Boot, whereas both you and Hannah have had separate sessions with Eddie Carmichael. "She uses him for practice, nothing more, but he's absolutely smitten with her. It's a bit pathetic, don't you agree?" I couldn't care less.
"Sounds like she has him wrapped around her finger," Ron chuckled, missing his cottage terribly. "Lavender and Seamus, huh? I would've never guessed."
"She's totally out of his league!" Hannah laughed, and her friends joined her. "No wonder he's so possessive of her. He knows he can't do any better, not even if his life depended on it." Fucking end me, please. How the fuck do I escape this conversation without being rude? If I'm lucky, I'll have another seizure any minute now.
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Thursday 1st July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Late Evening)
"He really said that?" Daphne asked Blaise, disappointed. "That he'd celebrate your mother's death? And Malfoy's?" Does he feel that way about my parents too? I know he's angry with them, but isn't this going too far? Just because they're vile doesn't mean he has to match them. Isn't he always telling us to be better?
"He didn't just say it, Daphne, he bloody meant it," Blaise frowned. "Whatever… I'm not going to bring it up, again. He's too full of hate, now, and I don't like seeing it. I've had my fill of murderous lunatics circling me."
"…Blaise…" Daphne sighed out, giving him a meaningful look. "He's under a lot of stress." You've no notion of the burdens he's forced to carry.
"When isn't he?" Blaise countered swiftly. "It's no excuse to goad Pansy when she's in such a vulnerable place. You haven't been here, Daph… There is something off about her. I mean, look at this place! She's so desperate for approval that she turned her manor into a stage! She's spent thousands of Galleons on this party! Oh, sorry, funeral!" I can't believe she said that with such a happy smile. "Her twisted behaviour is escalating, and I feel like I'm the only one who gives a shit! You're all just ignoring it!"
Daphne looked away, because she knew she couldn't meet his seething gaze. He was right, after all. She'd become so fixated on Chief Zotair's Tribe, on discovering her own path, that there was no time for anything else. It's all too much for one person, I think. I don't know how to juggle everything happening in my life, and my friends' lives, without becoming overwhelmed. I want to be a good friend, I do, but I can only do so much. I'm not like Ron… I don't know how he finds the time, or the strength, to keep tabs on everything and everyone.
"I'll try to talk to her," she promised, deciding to be better. "You're right, Blaise. We shouldn't ignore whatever's going on with Pansy. I just figured that she was happy with how her life was turning out… All that freedom, all that gold… Clearly, something else has its hold on her, and we should figure out what it is."
"…I'm not trying to defend her parents-"
"I know that."
"…but I resent the idea of her having so much contempt festering inside her heart," Blaise finished, looking grave. "How I feel about my mother… It doesn't make me proud… It makes me angry… Sick, even… I don't want her to be like that. I don't want any of us to be like that."
Daphne smiled sombrely, taking his hand in hers. "You're a good friend to have, Blaise. You speak your mind, no matter what, because you care more about your friends' wellbeing than you do about pleasing them. Ron knows that, and he respects you for-"
"He used to," Blaise cut in, brooding. "Now, he just tells me to shut up." He's hurt, isn't he? Ron went too far by threatening him. He needs to apologize. "I'm going to go get something to eat before I partake in the 'Butterbeer'."
"Want me to come with?"
He stared at her, before pulling his hand away. "…No, you should go find Tracey. Distract her from thinking about Theo. I'll catch up with you in a bit."
"Don't take too long," Daphne said, watching him leave with a detached look on his face. I'll need to figure out a good time to pull Pansy aside. I don't want to spoil her night, but she needs to explain what's going on in her head. Ron too. He's not leaving until he apologizes for threatening Blaise like some mannerless brute.
Her eyes scanned the large crowd for Tracey, but with so many people, especially the older ones, it was impossible to pick out the brunette. I'll have to walk around, then. Shouldn't be too hard. She's probably with Pansy, who'll be surrounded by her admirers. If tonight doesn't make her the most popular girl in Hogwarts, I don't know what will.
She only managed a few steps before she was intercepted by Ginny, a pensive expression marring her pretty face. "Have you seen Ron? Is he here, yet?" Damn, I forgot to tell her.
"Yes, he's here," Daphne replied, which only made Ginny more anxious. "Sorry, I should've found you and Luna. I just…" she trailed off.
"Just what?" Telling her about Theo won't do anything. It's not her problem.
"Nothing, I just got distracted," Daphne smiled apologetically. "Come with me. We'll go find him together." I'll drop her off with Ron, then I'll go find Trace. "Let's start over there, shall we?"
"Are you all right?" Ginny asked, following after her. "You seem… distracted."
"As Pansy's friends, it's our duty to make sure that everything runs smoothly," Daphne told a half-truth. "And, as you can see, there are a lot of guests here."
"Can I help?" the redhead asked, sincere.
"You're sweet, but no, I want you to enjoy yourself. Where's Luna? And Astoria?"
"Luna should still be with her friends," Ginny started. "As for your sister… She um… She sort of disappeared on us out of the blue."
"Disappeared?" Daphne asked, looking back. What's that little monster up to, now?
"She said she was going to 'socialise', laughed like a criminal, then scurried off," Ginny clarified. "She's a bit strange, your sister… No offence, of course!"
"None taken," Daphne sighed out. All right, new plan… Drop off Ginny, find Astoria and twist her ear, then go find Trace. "My sister considers herself a bit of a prankster, I'm afraid. Thank you for warning me. Hopefully, I can find her before she embarrasses the Greengrass name." Not that it can be embarrassed any further.
"You two make an unlikely pair of sisters," Ginny commented. "You're super mature, whereas-" she stopped, realizing she was about to put her foot in her mouth, again. "Sorry."
"I'm not all that mature," Daphne said, smiling to herself. "And Tori can be mischievous, but she's not cruel. My parents simply refuse to hold her accountable, so she's grown a foolish sense of immunity from any, and all, consequences. With age, however, I'm certain she'll blossom into a fine young Lady." A pipe-dream, I know, but let me hold onto it.
"Well, I think you're mature," Ginny said, shrugging with a friendly smile. "And I'm glad you're staying with us, now. At the Burrow, I mean. I like talking to you."
Daphne's smile grew wider, and she slowed down a little so she could walk beside the younger witch. "As I said before, you're sweet. I enjoy speaking with you, as well."
Ginny grinned, her eyes sparkling. "You don't have a drink in your hand. How come?"
"This dress is a little tight," Daphne admitted, the gold plates lining the stomach dug themselves into her ribcage whenever she eased her posture. "I don't want to appear bloated this early on in the night." Plus, I don't feel comfortable getting tipsy arounds strangers. I'll just wait until my friends are free to get together.
"Some of the other girls are wearing tighter dresses, and they're not worried about that," Ginny pointed out. "I don't think you have any reason to worry. You're very fit, despite being so girly." She's buttering me up like I'm a piece of toast. I like it. "I didn't think you'd be able to keep up with me in our duel, but you managed just fine."
"Oh, I struggled, I assure you," Daphne laughed. "Most of the time, I was in utter disbelief of how quick you were. It could've gone either way, that duel. You were splendid."
"Thanks, I was trying my-" she suddenly stopped, looking off into the distance.
"Ginny?"
"He's over there, with Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein," Ginny pointed, and Daphne followed her gaze.
Ron was chatting with the Ravenclaw boys, a sizable goblet in his left hand. …Pansy's doing, no doubt. I hope he's being responsible. "Before we approach them, let's talk."
"About what?" Ginny asked, still staring at her brother. "He looks like he's in a good mood, doesn't he? I can't tell, anymore, if I'm being honest. What do you think?"
Daphne observed Ron keenly, promptly noticing that his smile didn't reach his eyes. He's bored to death, but he's being polite. "Ginny, I know you want to ask him to come home, and I sympathise, but don't bring it up. Not tonight."
The redhead deflated, crestfallen. "…He'd refuse, wouldn't he?" Yes, and he wouldn't be gentle about it, either.
"He needs space, remember?" Daphne whispered, placing a comforting hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but if you chase after him, he'll only run further away. You have to give him time to come to a decision. That's the only way he'll come back."
"What if he decides he's better off without us?" Ginny countered. "What if he decides he wants to spend his last years alone?" That would be a tragedy, indeed, but it'll be his decision.
"His fight isn't with you, but if you corner him, he'll push you away, just as he has pushed away your parents," Daphne spoke from experience. "Trust me, I've seen firsthand how cold he can be when he's displeased with someone. You don't want that, Ginny. Just go over there, tell him you're happy to see him, and be his little sister. He's always had a soft spot for you and Luna. Remind him of that."
"So, you want me to act like he hasn't run away from home?" Ginny grumbled, visibly bothered. "Like he didn't break his hand off the family clock?"
"Yes, but it's for your own good," the blonde answered, removing her hand. "Shall we?"
"…Okay."
Daphne led the way, silently gesturing the young Gryffindor to smile. They moved past dozens of fellow students, the mood was certainly blissful judging from the happy smiles and boisterous laughter all around, so much so that House rivalry seemed like a thing of the past. Free alcohol, an enchanting location, and promises of greater things yet to come. It doesn't matter which House you belong to, Pansy's made sure that you feel at home. I've never seen Gryffindors and Slytherins sharing a laugh together so openly. This is… quite remarkable, really. Ron must be thoroughly pleased with her efforts. As they neared the boys, Ron was the first to notice them approaching, relief exploding behind his eyes at the sight of her. Don't worry, I'm here to rescue you.
"Good evening, boys," Daphne greeted them, her tone tranquil but distant.
"Greengrass," Corner responded casually, whereas Goldstein turned mute in an effort to not openly ogle her. "You look radiant in that dress." …Um, excuse me?
Ron snorted, barely holding back a laugh. "I didn't teach you that line so you could use it on her, Corner." I knew it sounded familiar. "And don't even think about using it on my sister. Speaking off…" he looked Ginny over, appearing pleased with her rose gown and curled hair. "You look delightful, Gin. Lads, do you mind if I talk to Daphne and my sister? I'll find you later." No, he won't.
"Sure," Corner agreed, nudging the still-silent Goldstein. "Let's go get another drink, mate."
Goldstein nodded, offering Daphne and Ginny a polite smile before they both left.
"Thank the Gods," Ron sighed out, losing his false mirth. "Those two wanted to ask me tips on approaching girls… Me… Like I'm some damn expert…" he shook his head clear, inhaling sharply. "…I don't belong here. Sooner, or later, I'll end up embarrassing myself and Pansy, I just know it."
Daphne eyed the large goblet in his hand, wondering how much he'd had to drink, already. I hope he isn't in one of his darker moods, but I need to know. "Ron, how much have you had to drink?"
"This is my third one," Ron shrugged, causing Daphne to pinch her eyes. Why would you do that? The night just started! "What? It's just Butterbeer, Daph." Just Butterbeer? Oh, no… Don't tell me Pansy didn't warn him!
"Ron…" Daphne muttered, gawking at his flushed cheeks. "Pansy mixed spirits into the Butterbeer to give it a stronger hit. Her Elves went to great lengths to mask the taste, they've been tinkering away all day."
"…Huh?"
"She did?" Ginny asked, looking at her own glass. "I knew I wasn't crazy! Who gets tipsy from one glass of Butterbeer?!"
"That's why the Elves are keeping such a close eye on the younger guests," Daphne told them, looking down at the goblet, again. "I didn't know she had that monstrous thing reserved for you, though."
"…I even told her I didn't want to get drunk," Ron frowned darkly. "No one fucking listens, eh?" Uh oh. "…It's like you're all fucking deaf, or something."
Daphne felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, already regretting bringing Ginny to him. "It's okay. I'll get you something to eat-"
"No, it's fine," Ron stopped her, closing his eyes and taking a few seconds to compose himself. "She… didn't mean anything bad by it, I'm sure. She just wants me to take the load off, that's all." Daphne blinked, visibly confused. What is happening? He's not about to lose his temper? Despite her antics? "I'm a river, right? It's fine. No harm done." He's a river? "Ginny, how much have you had?"
"…This is my second," Ginny answered slowly. "Ron, are you okay? You're being… weird." Better weird than apoplectic.
"We need to go find Luna before it's too late," Ron began looking around, offering Ginny his gloved hand. "Come on."
Confused, but eager to spend time with her brother, Ginny accepted with little hesitation. "She was on the other side of the ballroom when I last saw her."
"I'm sorry about this, Ron," Daphne apologized, again. "I'll straighten Pansy out, I promise." What is she playing at? I get that she likes Ron's attention, it's why I'm tolerating her blatantly flirting with him in front of me, but trying to get him drunk against his will? What the fuck? Blaise is right, she's out of control!
"Is there anything else I should know about?" Ron asked bluntly. "If there is, start talking."
Daphne shook her head. "There's nothing else, Ron. Not to my knowledge."
He stared at her in an odd manner, as if he didn't believe her. …Of course, I'm the one who gets in trouble for her actio-… "I had no idea your tits could look any more glorious, but you've proven me wrong. Thank you." What the fuck?
"Ron?!" Ginny looked appalled, whereas Daphne's expression turned dull. A drunk Ron… Merlin help us all… It's only a matter of time before chaos runs rampant, isn't it?
"She likes it when I comment on them, trust me," Ron gave his shocked sister a reassuring nod. "Right, Daph?" …I do, especially because I was hoping you'd notice that the plates help in lifting them.
"Make sure he eats something," Daphne looked to Ginny, ignoring the smirking, satisfied dolt beside her. "And remember what we discussed."
"You two are discussing things, now?" Ron asked, curious.
"It's girl business, Ron, so you don't want to know," Daphne told him, while Ginny shot her a subtle nod. Good girl.
"I'll pretend to believe that," Ron chuckled, his eyes darting between her face and her breasts. "I'd like to talk later. Just us. Away from all these people." I might need to keep this dress after tonight.
"I won't slap the taste out of your mouth because your sister is here," Daphne stated, doing her best to not show any signs of being flattered.
"Let's get you some food," Ginny pulled at his hand. "You're being really gross, Ron." Again, better gross than wrathful. "Sorry about him, Daphne." Oh, no need for that. He can be as 'gross' as he likes when we're alone. I'm very much looking forward to it, now.
"I need to go find my sister," Daphne shot Ron a suggestive wink when Ginny turned to leave, making him grin. "Be nice to her, please."
He nodded as Ginny pulled him away, leaving the blonde by herself. Now, where did that little demon run off to? I have to find her before trouble does. Ginny will keep Ron under control, and I need to do the same for Astoria.
Ginny Weasley's POV
Thursday 1st July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Late Evening)
"You shouldn't talk to her like that," Ginny huffed, still displeased and embarrassed. "Honestly, if mum heard you, she'd rip your tongue out."
"She's welcome to try," Ron laughed coldly, making her even more uncomfortable. "Have you grown a fondness for her, Gin? Daphne, I mean." I don't know. Maybe. She gives good advice, and she's not smug about it, either. I always get the feeling that she's looking out for me, even though she doesn't need to. "I knew you would. Daphne's come a long way since I first met her. You'd never think she's as kind as she is, the way she portrays herself, but once you get to know her, it's hard not to love her." Love? I wouldn't go that far.
"I've never really had a problem with her," Ginny replied, making him laugh, again. "What?! I didn't!"
"Yes, you did," Ron remembered. "Whenever Harry, Neville, and Hermione wanted to lick my brain, you'd be there in the background… Eyeballing my friends. Eyeballing her, like you wanted to punch her." Please, don't bring that up. It's mortifying. "Well, I'm glad you're getting out of your own way. You'll go further in life with friends than you will with enemies. Keep it up, understand?"
"…Um… Sure," Ginny didn't know what else to say. When he gives advice, it sounds more like an order "We're almost there. Luna should be here somewhere.". Ron followed after her as she tried to find any signs of her oldest friend, enjoying the contents of his goblet along the way. "Why are you still drinking from that, Ron? I thought you didn't want to get drunk." We'll find Luna, then we'll find you some food.
"I don't know, honestly," Ron said pitifully, making her stop. "I… want to enjoy this party, I really do, but…" he trailed off.
"But?"
He studied all the happy faces around them, his own expression unreadable. "I feel out of place. Like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit." Really? "I spent nearly half-an-hour speaking with Padma, and her idiot sister, about why Lavender is out of Seamus' league, then I spoke with Roger Davies about the 'talent' on display around us, whatever the fuck that means, and then, I got cornered by… Well, by Corner… He's desperate for a girlfriend, and he thinks he'll find one here with my help." He's desperate? Why? He's handsome enough, isn't he? And why is he going to Ron? They don't even know each other.
"Goldstein too?"
"Yeah, him too," Ron drawled, his brow furrowed. "You know what I realized during those mind-numbing conversations, Gin? I have nothing worthwhile to say to people my own age. Or, at least, nothing they'd be interested in. I just let them do the talking, while I simply nod my head along like some stupid twat. It's been like that for so long. I've been feeling alone for so long." He then let out a long breath, staring down at the goblet in his hand. "What am I even doing here? I'll never fit in, no matter how hard I try to." I didn't know he felt that way. That sounds… miserable.
Ginny just stared at her brother, growing more and more concerned with each word he spoke. "Let's get you some food, Ron. I think, the alcohol is getting to you." Dad mentioned that some people are 'sad-drunks'. It wouldn't surprise me if Ron was one of them.
"It's not the alcohol, little sister, it's me," Ron muttered tiredly. "Or, it's everyone else. I haven't decided yet." He then focused on her, smiling apologetically. "I know you're not happy about me leaving, Gin, but this is exactly why I don't want to be at the Burrow. I don't fit, and I'm tired of feeling that way. I'm happy at the Werewolf Sanctuary, I feel like I belong there, with all those people the Wizarding World has rejected, and I'm not going to give that up. I'm sorry."
"…Oh…" Ginny felt herself shrink, greatly disheartened. "W-What about me? Do you also feel like you don't fit in with me?"
"I love you, and I always will," Ron promised, providing her with some much-needed relief. "But things between us aren't how they used to be. Times change, and we must change with them. I've changed, you've changed, the world has changed… One day, you might understand how I feel, but, for now, all you need to understand is that I'll always be your big brother, even if I'm not at the Burrow."
It was a strange feeling, to be both relieved and upset at the same time. "…Why can't you just apologize to dad, Ronnie? He'll forgive you… I know he will-"
"I don't apologize, especially when I'm right. I make this world a better place, even at the cost of getting my hands dirty, whereas he just… exists. Like a cockroach living within the filth, content to just eat and sleep until his time is up."
Ginny blinked repeatedly, his sudden shift in tone and his harsh words left her jarred to her core. He really sees dad as a cockroach? "…That's an awful thing to say, Ron…"
"Awful, but fair," Ron said, taking another sip. "We, as a family, can't take pride in going against the grain when we're a part of the problem. It's dishonest. It's hypocritical. He works for the very people who spit on his ideals, and yet, it's me he has a problem with? Why? Because I dare to think for myself? I thought, that's what us Weasleys were supposed to do."
"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying," Ginny murmured, lowering her gaze. "I miss you. Isn't that enough?" Because it should be.
"Spend a day in my shoes, then ask me that," Ron said simply, raising her head with his gloved hand. "I can't ignore my duties, not for anyone. If I do, then I'll become just like the rest of you, and I won't allow that. I have to be better."
"Why?"
"Because you don't want to live in a world where I'm not," Ron promised, and something about his darkening gaze turned her blood to ice. What's that supposed to mean? Why did he say it like it was a threat? Ronnie, what's happened to you? Why are you like-?...
"Were you two searching for me?" came Luna's voice, disrupting her thoughts. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" So, he's really not coming back… What am I supposed to do, then? The Burrow isn't the Burrow without Ron. I don't understand why he can't live at home, but avoid dad? He does fit in with me, and with our brothers, I know he does! He's just being stubborn!
"No, I was just trying to explain to Ginny why I have to be away from the Burrow," Ron pulled his gloved hand back, looking to the Ravenclaw. Because you don't care how unhappy that makes me, that's why!
"Oh, that's obvious," Luna stated, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. "It's not your natural habitat, is it? It's like seeing a shark on top of a mountain. It doesn't make sense." Don't encourage him! Weren't you telling me just before how much you miss spending time with him?!
"Gods, you're strange," Ron snorted, pulling Luna into his side. "You look so damn cute! Pandora buy you that dress?"
"She did buy me one, but both Ginny and I accepted Pansy's choice for us," Luna giggled, hugging him back. "Your face is red, Ron. Why?"
"Because Pansy can be dangerously devious," Ron sniggered, looking towards Ginny expectantly. Right… I should say something…
"Luna, have you had the Butterbeer yet?" Ginny asked, clearing her throat.
"I had half a glass," Luna answered, tilting her head. "It made me feel strange, so I stopped. Mum told me to be careful, after all."
"Your mum?" Ginny's eyes grew wide. "Luna… You didn't tell her what was happening here, did you?"
"No, of course not," Luna smiled innocently. "But mum knew, already." I swear, that woman is a Seer. "Don't worry, she won't tell anyone. She was very proud that I was invited to a party by another girl."
"That definitely sounds like her," Ron smiled widely, a hint of nostalgia seeping into his voice. "The Butterbeer isn't exactly Butterbeer, as it turns out. Pansy made it a lot stronger with spirits."
"Spirits? Of the dead?" Luna asked, taken aback. What?!
"No, alcohol," Ron clarified. "Spirits of the dead, Luna? Please, stop listening to your father."
"Mum says that too," Luna said thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes. "Though, she sounds like she's joking-"
"She isn't," Ron interrupted frankly, "Just be mindful of how much you two drink, that's all I wanted to say. Slytherin parties can get out of hand, believe me, and if I know Pansy, she wants that above anything else. It won't be long before people start acting up, and I don't want you two getting caught up in that shit."
"Are people here going to snog?" Luna asked, smiling mischievously.
"Some are, sure," Ron's lips twitched upwards, pinching the Ravenclaw's cheek. "But not you two, because you're too young."
"Luna's already thirteen, and I turn thirteen next month," Ginny pointed out, frowning defiantly. "We're not children, anymore, Ron." Why does he always act like he has all the answers?! It's annoying!
"Sounds like you already have someone in mind," Ron teased, much to her chagrin. "Is Harry here, then? Got it." Oi! Don't bring that up!
"He's not, actually, and you're being a prat!" Ginny glowered. "If I want to snog someone, I will! You don't get a say in what I do, or don't do, not when you always do whatever you want!" Luna stared at her curiously, whereas Ron lost his mirth. "I'm going to go talk to some boys right now, actually! You can find yourself something to eat without my help!"
"Can I observe you? I don't really know what to say to boys, but you always get along with them," Luna requested, not realising that Ginny wasn't planning to talk to any boys, but rather, she just wanted some space from Ron. "Earlier, I overheard Dean Thomas saying that you looked really pretty. We can go find him." Sounds like a plan!
"Ginny, don't be petulant," Ron sighed out. "I know you love to throw tantrums when you don't get your way, but-…"
"I'm not being petulant!" she hissed, crossing her arms. And I don't throw tantrums! "I want to enjoy the party, and I don't want to be told how to by you. Where did you see Dean last, Luna?"
"Ginny, stop being a brat." I'm not a brat! You are!
"By the fountain," Luna pointed in the general direction. "He was talking to Marcus Belby."
"Are you two really just going to leave me on my own?" Ron asked, peeved.
"It doesn't feel good, does it?" Ginny remarked, taking Luna by the hand and storming off. Brilliant… My night is ruined! He feels like he fits in with strangers, but not his own family?! What's wrong with him?! You know what?! If he doesn't care about how I feel, then I won't bring it up, again! He can enjoy his stupid little cottage! I won't even visit him!
"Were you two having a fight?" Luna asked, eventually, and the redhead let out a loud groan. "Mum's right, my timing could use some work." She stopped abruptly, surprising Ginny. "You can go talk to Dean; I'm going back to Ron. He looked sad when we left him."
"He's not, I promise you," Ginny grumbled, tightening her hold on the blonde's hand. "You said you wanted to come with me, remember?"
"I didn't realise I was getting caught up in your fight," Luna stated, pulling her hand away. "I don't know exactly what's going on with your family, but Ron looks healthier now compared to when he was staying at the Burrow. Do you care more about his health? Or, about getting your way?"
"What's his health got to do with this?!"
"Happiness improves your health," Luna answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "That's why animals that are caged fall sick and die young."
"So, Ron feels caged because of us?" Ginny narrowed her eyes. "We make him unhappy? Is that what you're saying?"
"Don't take it the wrong way, he feels the same way about my family," Luna said simply, and Ginny could do little but stare at her. Doesn't that bother you?! "We all miss his visits, mum especially, but he doesn't, so we've made our peace with it. We know he still loves us, but he's trying to do his best for the world with the time he has left. Even Ron can't be in two places at once." The world… Like those Centaurs, and the Squibs, and the Werewolves… I know he does a lot of good for other people, I'm not angry about that, I just hate that he prioritises them over us. We're his family! Doesn't that mean anything to him? "I'm going back, and you should come with me. He's here, now, and we ought to take advantage of that."
"…I just shouted at him…" Ginny mumbled, conflicted. If I go back now, he'll be proven right about me throwing a tantrum.
"You Weasleys have a temper, he knows that," Luna turned to leave, gesturing her to follow. "We should hurry, it's only a matter of time before his friends want to spend time with him."
Ginny remained rooted to her spot for a few moments, before her shoulders sagged in defeat. …She's right… Who knows when I'll get to see him next? And, if shouting at him is how I leave things, then he won't want to see me for a long time. I know I don't want that, no matter how angry I feel about his decision. Daphne was right, I wish we never talked about him leaving the Burrow. He doesn't want to come back, not even for me, and there's nothing I can do about it. No one can.
Tracey Davis' POV
Thursday 1st July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Night)
She oversaw the grounds with a blank expression, all of her excitement for tonight had died the moment Ron had revealed why Theo wasn't returning her letters. We finally start dating, and I lose him overnight. Just like that. No warning, no time to adjust. How is that fair? I'm so scared that he's going to be sent away to Durmstrang, same as Millie, and that I won't see him again for years. I'm so scared of him being alone with his Death-Eater father, so scared of what that means for his future. Soon enough, Nott Snr will realise that his heir is nothing like him, and then what? What happens to Theo when his father turns on him? What happens to us?
Tracey let out a long breath, closing her eyes. I should drink some water. That 'Butterbeer' is making me morose, I think, even though I don't feel so much as a buzz. Just as she reopened her eyes, a flap of wings caught her by surprise. A raven had landed not far from her, perched on the stone railing and glaring right at her. The raven was as black as pitch, but its eyes were sparkling white, like a pair of perfectly-cut diamonds reflecting starlight, and Tracey found herself helplessly staring into them. …Is that a Magical raven? It looks… angry with me… The longer she stared into them, the smaller the distance between her and the eerie bird felt, as if she were being pulled closer and closer and closer and closer-
"There you are," came Draco's voice, making her jump. "Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you."
"Do you see… that?" Tracey turned her alarmed gaze towards the platinum-blonde, pointing towards the raven. "Look at its… eyes. What is it?"
Draco raised an eyebrow, following the direction of her finger with his eyes. "What are you on about? There's nothing there." What?!
She looked back to where the raven was perched, and to her horror, there was nothing there. "…What the… fuck?" It was right there! Where did it go?!
"Are you all right? You look pale," Draco took a step closer, sounding worried.
"It was right… there, Draco," Tracey rasped, looking in every direction. Did I imagine it? No… No fucking way! I know what I saw! Unless… "What did Pansy… put in the… Butt-… Butterbeer?"
"Rum and vodka, I heard," Draco replied, scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't disturb you at a bad time, did I?"
"What? No… I just…" she trailed off, feeling awfully cold all of a sudden. "I thought I… saw something." Was it an omen? Like the ones Professor Trelawney warned us about? Oh, Theo, please be safe. "Um… Were you looking… for me?"
"Daphne was, yes," Draco replied, his tone now wary.
"Daphne?" Tracey was a little surprised by him using her name, but he merely nodded. "Does she know… you're using her given… name? She's not exactly… fond of people being casual… with her."
Draco just stared at her, eventually shaking his head. "Would it really bother her? She can use mine, I've no problems with it." You don't? Well, well… Looks like he's coming along nicely.
Tracey drew in a sharp breath, pushing the thoughts of the omen out of her mind. "I'm glad… you came, tonight."
His posture eased upon hearing that, and he even gave her a weak smile. "Thanks. Um… I'm glad you came, as well." Not very good at this, is he?
They both stood silent for a bit, until Tracey decided to break said silence. "Why was Daphne… looking for me?"
"Because she's worried about you," Draco answered swiftly. "The news about Theodore… Well, it has everyone worried." Everyone?
"Even you?"
Draco hesitated, thinking his words through. "…He does very little but mock me, so I'm not sure how I feel about all this. I know he matters to Ron, and there was a time when he mattered to me, so I am worried, I suppose, but not as much as the rest of you. Sorry."
"It's okay," Tracey croaked, walking over to him with her empty glass in hand. "When I woke up… He said some nasty… things to you. I'm sorry about… that. He was out of… line. Really out of-"
"It's fine, I got over it," Draco cut in, his eyes darting towards her scar. "Does it hurt? Daphne wanted me to ask." I'm having a civil conversation with Draco Malfoy, and I'm enjoying it. He seems genuinely concerned for me, even. The world really has gone mad, hasn't it?
"No, not right… now," Tracey replied, smiling softly. "You've changed… even more in m-… my absence. It's nice. I like it."
He blinked, before scratching the side of his flushed face. "…Tired of being on the outside, that's all. Ron's done a lot for me, keeping me around and even defending me against everyone, but he can only do so much, you know? I need to make an effort, too. I want to have-" he stopped, embarrassment softening his otherwise sharp features. "Do you um… Do you want to go inside? Daphne asked me to bring you to her, and it would help my case if I do this for her." A happy Daphne means a happy Ron. No wonder he searched me out.
Tracey smiled more widely, offering Draco her arm. "Allow me to… escort you, my… Lady." He rolled his eyes, turning around and walking away. "Wait up. I'm wearing… heels." Still can't take being teased, can he? We'll work on that.
"He'll be fine," Draco said once she caught up, keeping his gaze forward. "Theodore, I mean. You shouldn't worry too much. Ron's already looking for him, and he has you, as well. He'll be fine, really." I hope so. I've got to figure out a way to get my letters to him. I'm willing to ask mum and dad for help, even.
The re-entered the manor together, where they were met with the sight of Pansy having a heated debate with one of her Elves. What's going on over there? Merlin, she looks furious. What did that Elf do? Taking Draco by the arm, Tracey began sneaking towards the arguing pair, curious about what had spoiled Pansy's mood. She looks like she's ready to bite that Elf's head off! What's gotten into her?!
"…paid them a fortune!" Pansy shrieked, completely red in the face. "Where are they, Carbey?!"
"Mistress must be patient," the Elf responded, looking more bored than scared. "Musicians are notoriously tardy, the famous ones most of all." Musicians? What musicians?
"You were supposed to make sure they arrived on time!" Pansy snapped, stomping her foot. "You're ruining my birthday! You're ruining everything!"
"Stop this!" the Elf suddenly hissed, shocking not only Pansy, but also Tracey and Draco. Woah… What sort of Elf speaks to his Mistress in that tone? "Do not force Carbey to discipline Mistress over his knee!"
Pansy pouted angrily, though her quivering lower lip undid whatever authority she was trying to muster. "…You can't speak to me like that…"
The Elf's features softened, if only slightly. "…Mistress, please. Carbey has made all the necessary arrangements. Patience is a quality very few can master, and it would please Carbey to see Mistress make an attempt."
"The food is ready to be served, already, though!" Pansy fussed. "They need to be here to set up while everyone is in the dining hall!" Who are they talking about? "…This is so much work… I haven't even had time to talk to any of my friends, yet…"
"Pansy, is everything… all right?" Tracey rasped, making her and Draco known. The Elf, Carbey, and Pansy, both looked towards the intruding pair. Sorry, eavesdropping is just too much fun. "Who's running late? I didn't know… you hired a ba-… band, Pansy."
Pansy threw her head back, pressing her palms into her temples. "…What are you two doing out here? The party is in the ballroom." Merlin, she looks as stressed as Ron usually does. "You know what? It doesn't matter… Everything's going to shit, anyway."
"Mistress," Carbey frowned, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Language."
"Maybe, we can… help," Tracey offered, looking between Pansy and her Elf. "Right, Draco?"
"Oh… Yes, of course," the boy said awkwardly, visibly displeased about being put in the spotlight. "Park-… Pansy, what's wrong? What's got you in such a state?" Merlin, that sounded so forced.
The raven-haired witch let out a dramatic sigh, her posture slouching. "…The Weird Sisters… I hired them to put on a concert for us, tonight." The Weird Sisters?! Tracey's jaw almost hit the floor, whereas Draco was hardly even fazed. "But they were supposed to be here, already. I wanted it to be a surprise, okay? I wanted people to remember this night as the best night of their lives."
"…The Weird Sisters…" was all Tracey could say, her heart beating in her throat. "Theo and I love… them." Pansy and Draco immediately looked to her with baffled expressions. "What?"
"Theo loves the Weird Sisters?" Pansy asked, and Tracey froze in her spot. Shit! He told me to keep that a secret! Fuck! "…You know what? It doesn't matter, because they're probably not going to show up."
"If they've accepted the money, then they'll show up," Draco said reassuringly, whereas Tracey could only think of her missing boyfriend. I can't believe Theo's going to miss them. Ugh! I really fucking hate Nott Snr! I hope he has a heart-attack and just dies! Theo will be so much better off without him! "Carbey, did they sign a contract with you?"
"They did, yes," Carbey confirmed.
"Then, they'll be here," Draco said, offering Pansy a rather pathetic smile. "You should tell your Elves to hold off on the food until they arrive. Carbey will keep an eye out for them, and the moment they arrive, he'll come find you."
"This is a good plan," Carbey gave a strong nod. "Mistress, nothing is ruined. Carbey will not allow such a catastrophe to unfold."
"…Okay," Pansy managed, slowly fixing her veil back into place. "…I'm sorry… I just want everything to be perfect…"
"All is going swimmingly, Mistress," Carbey swore, turning to leave. "Lord Malfoy, a word, please?"
Tracey and Pansy looked to Draco, who simply shrugged before following after the Elf. Lord Malfoy, huh? Not sure I like the sound of that.
"Are you okay?" Tracey asked Pansy, walking over to her.
"I'm trying my best, but everything keeps going wrong," the witch in black moaned, resting her forehead on her friend's shoulder. "The moment I put out one fire, another springs up to take its place. My feet are killing me!" Tracey wrapped her arms around Pansy, rubbing her back gently. "You smell so nice."
"Thanks," the brunette laughed, before doing some sniffing of her own. "You smell nice… too." What is that perfume? It's amazing!
"There you are!" came Blaise's voice, interrupting them. "Merlin, Pansy, I've been looking everywhere for you! Why are you out here?!"
"What's happened, now?" Pansy groaned, pulling away from Tracey.
"Nothing yet, but people are wondering where you disappeared off to," Blaise replied, looking them over. "You two all right?" Does he know about the Weird Sisters? I shouldn't say anything. Pansy seems stressed enough as it is.
"We're fine," Tracey whispered, giving Pansy a meaningful look. "Everything is… fine, right?"
The raven-haired witch smiled gratefully, before nodding. "Everything is fine."
"…Right," Blaise drawled, eyeing them knowingly. "The Elves are ready to start setting up the dining room. Should I give them the order?"
"Not yet," Pansy shook her head, marching forward. "I'll go and talk to them. There's been a slight change in the plan."
"What change?" Blaise asked, but Pansy didn't answer. "What change, Tracey?"
"She hired a… band, but they're ru-… running late," Tracey shrugged, causing Blaise to frown.
"Told her they'd cause her a headache," the ebony wizard said aloofly. "They're not even that good, but she insisted."
"Wait, you know?"
"How could I not? I helped her set this party up, remember?"
"Oh." That's quite generous of him.
"How are you doing?" Blaise asked, stepping closer. "Is your scar hurting? You'll let me know the moment it does, won't you?"
"Um… I'm fine, so far," Tracey whispered, pleasantly surprised by the concern in his voice. First Draco, and now Blaise too?
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
"All right, then," he sounded rather relieved, even smiling. "Want to share a drink with me?" Did Blaise Zabini just ask me to share a drink with him? Whilst smiling?! They're all looking out for me, aren't they? All of them.
"Okay," Tracey agreed, grateful to have such supportive friends. "Let's get one, and… come back here. Draco's helping… Carbey, and I'm sure-"
"Malfoy is helping Carbey? With what?" Blaise asked, losing his smile.
"With making Pa-… Pansy's life easier," Tracey replied, sounding a little more defensive than she'd intended. "I want to bring him… one, as well. Make him feel welcome. Is that okay wi-… with you?" I need to stop talking. I'm really pushing my luck here.
Blaise remained silent for several seconds, before giving a reluctant nod. "He's really trying his best to kiss our arses, isn't he?"
"Don't be like… that," Tracey chastised. "Draco is trying… very hard to be… a better person. Plus, I prefer you when… you're nice, not when you're… mean."
"Then, I'll be nice, just for you," Blaise smiled, again, offering her his hand. "Come on. I'll even ask the Elves for a chalice for the benevolent Lord Malfoy."
"Prat," Tracey sniggered, taking his hand.
"Sorry, couldn't help myself." Theo will be all right, because he has a family other than Nott Snr. He has all of us. We'll come up with a plan to rescue him, I know we will, and everything will turn out just fine. It has to.
Draco Malfoy's POV
Thursday 1st July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Night)
"You want me to what?" Draco gawked at the Elf in utter disbelief. "Are you-…? How dare you, Elf?! You forget your place! I ought to punish you for this myself! What gives you the boldness to make such a demand of-?!"
Carbey snapped his fingers, and it felt as though the gravity around him tripled, causing him to collapse onto his hands and knees. Shit! What the fuck?! He's attacking me?! He can't do that!
"Carbey will not tolerate such a tone," the Elf whispered darkly, while Draco grit his teeth because of the ever-increasing pressure on his body. I feel like I'm being crushed! Help! Someone! Please! "Carbey's request is a simple one, Lord Malfoy. It was not a demand, but merely a humble plea."
He snapped his fingers, again, and the shaken wizard promptly felt the pressure subside. …Merlin's Beard… That was awful…
"…Y-Y-You're mental," Draco panted, his legs shaking as he tried his best to stand back up. "Y-You-… E-Elves can't a-attack wizards, it's not-!"
"Shall Carbey continue to prove Lord Malfoy wrong?" the Elf asked, and Draco's lips sealed up without his express permission. What's wrong with him?! Is he defective?! "Carbey takes no pleasure in making such a request of the young Lord, but Mistress is juvenile and foolish, and, as such, prone to poor judgement. Carbey has no choice but to intervene, for Mistress' own-"
"I'm not going to seduce her, you freak!" Draco blurted out, scandalised. She barely tolerates me! She blames me for her mother's sick infatuation with my family! It makes her feel better about her stupid-self to treat me like garbage!
"Seduce? Did Carbey use that vile word?"
"…Well, no, but you-…"
"Lord Malfoy must find a way to secure Mistress' attention, tonight," Carbey continued, gravely serious. "Far too many low-born scum have been watching Mistress with ill-intent, and this ill-intent cannot be allowed to take form. Carbey will not allow it."
"Go ask Blaise, then!" Draco hissed, shakily fixing up his robes. I still can't believe he used Magic on me! A wizard! His better! It's unheard of! Utterly mad!
"Zabini is not a Lord, simply a parasite feeding upon Mistress' soft heart. If it were up to Carbey, Zabini would be sleeping in the gutter instead of in this manor."
"I don't care! Your problems are not my problems!" Draco took several steps back. "…I'm leaving, and if you talk to me, again, I'll tell Parkinson about what you did! You've no right to attack wizards, Elf! No right!"
Carbey frowned, disappointment gleaming maliciously behind his large eyes. "Very well, Lord Malfoy, but know that Carbey will not forget this." Fuck you!
The platinum-blonde wasted no time in rushing away, feeling both disgusted and humiliated in equal measure. I ought to just tell Parkinson that her Head-Elf is fucking insane! Seriously, what the fuck was that about?! I need to get as far away from him as possible! Fucking Weasley… He said he'd come back once he got himself a drink, but he just abandoned me! It wounded what was left of his pride to admit it, but he had sorely missed the redhead's company during the night's festivities, especially because Ron was the only person who seemed capable of treating him with some basic decency. He'd tried to approach other people tonight, hoping to nurture a connection with any of his Hogwarts peers, once he'd bolstered himself with some liquid courage, of course, but he was either dismissed, or outright mocked, during each attempt. He was reviled amongst his fellow students, and tonight had been a constant confirmation of that sad fact. At least, my interaction with Tracey went well. Her and Ron… They're my friends, and I know Madam Pomfrey would want me to focus on that, but-… Damn it all, it's so hard… People hate me, and I don't know how to change their feelings… I feel like no matter what I do, everyone's already made up their minds regarding me. Why can't anyone understand that I've changed? Why can't they just give me a fucking chance to prove it?
As he neared the ballroom, he spotted Tracey and Blaise closing in on the entrance, and he almost rushed forward to catch up with them, only to stop himself at the last second. Blaise… He treats me worse than anyone else in the group… If I go over there, I know exactly how he's going to behave, and I don't have it in me to put up with it right now. He slowed down his pace, staring at the pair ahead of him until they disappeared past the threshold, leaving him behind on his lonesome. Maybe, I shouldn't have come, after all. What was I thinking? That I could undo my poor reputation in a single night? That I'd just walk up to a bunch of people who despise me, and get them to see a different side of me? Madam Pomfrey was wrong, people don't care if you see the error of your ways… They can only ever focus on the errors… No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I apologize, I will be hated, regardless, and it's all my fault. Nothing will change that, so what's the point?
His overwhelming sense of loneliness was compelling him to turn around and go home, and yet, he knew that the demented Elf was still in the greeting room. The last thing I need is another run-in with him. Should I just keep drinking, then? Why not? It does feel nice, this buzz, and it's the best I can hope-…
"Malfoy, did you find Tracey?" Daphne tapped him on the shoulder from behind, breaking him out of his melancholy.
He turned to face her, discovering that she'd found her errant sister. "Yeah, she was outside, probably needed some fresh air. I convinced her to re-join the party, though. She's with Blaise, now."
"Is Tracey all right?" Astoria asked, looking to her sister for answers. "Is there something I should know about?"
"Theo couldn't make it, so she's a bit upset," Daphne answered offhandedly, keeping her eyes on him. "Thanks. I appreciate your help, Malfoy." …Right.
"Are you all right?" Astoria asked him. "You seem upset, too."
"I'm not," he swiftly lied, adorning a practiced expression of indifference.
The Greengrass sisters stared at him, but he refused to show them how pathetic, and fragile, he really was on the inside. They wouldn't care, anyway. Maybe, eventually, Ron will find me and I can have some semblance of fun. That sounds infinitely better than moping around in my aunt's house, that's for certain.
"Thank you, again," Daphne eventually said, frosty as always, moving past him. "Come, Astoria." …You're welcome…
"I'll stick with Draco, I think," Astoria said, surprising them both. "You don't mind, do you, Draco?"
He didn't know what to say to that, but wisdom dictated that he reject the younger Greengrass' request. However, he didn't want to be alone, either. I can't allow it, can I? Her sister will be pissed, and she'll make my life even harder by whispering poison in Ron's ear. Just say no, already, you idiot, so you can-…
"You're just trying to escape me, aren't you?" Daphne frowned at her sister. "Tori, I'm warning you, I'm not in the mood for your-…"
"I was in the kitchens because I was hungry," Astoria interrupted, pouting. "I didn't eat a proper lunch, Daphne! Stop being so bossy! It's annoying!"
Daphne scowled, still unconvinced. "This night is important to Pansy, and I know you well enough to know that it's only a matter of time before you get yourself in trouble."
"You're not the boss of me!" Tori shot back, stomping her foot. "Leave me alone! Draco, let's go!" …What? No! I don't-…!
She grabbed his arm, dragging him away from her older sister. Fucking hell! Her grip hurts! Why is she so fucking strong?! He tried to dig his heels in, to pull his arm away, but the little girl barely noticed his attempts at resistance. …Why does this keep happening to me?! Merlin, she's going to rip my arm out of its socket! What the fuck is happening here?!
"Stop!" he protested, being pulled into the ballroom against his will. "Let go of me! What are you doing?!"
"She's always on my case!" Astoria scoffed, sounding thoroughly vexed. "She's so damn sanctimonious! Always acting like she's perfect! Ugh! I don't know what any of you see in her! Honestly! She's a bloody cow!" My fucking arm! Let go of me, already! "I wasn't trying to pull a prank, okay?! I just wanted something to eat! Why is that so hard to believe?! I'm not always looking to cause trouble! Sometimes, I just want some alone time!" I'm being manhandled by a little girl! How is this possible?!
"Stop!" he yelled, loud enough to catch the attention of those around them.
Astoria, at long last, heard him, her feet coming to an abrupt halt. "…Why are you shouting at me?" Because you're hurting me, you crazy bitch!
Draco yanked his arm away from her, wincing in pain. "…What the fuck is wrong with you? That really hurt!"
"It did?" Astoria asked, guilt flashing across her face. "I didn't pull that hard, did I?" What?! Yes, you fucking did!
He could do little but stare at her in disbelief as he massaged his throbbing shoulder, wincing, again. "…I never agreed to babysitting you, all right?"
"Babysitting?" Astoria didn't seem pleased with his choice of words. "I don't need another big sister, Draco. I just want to enjoy this party, and, I reckon, you're far better company than-"
"Your sister can get me into a lot of trouble," Draco hissed, frowning. "Why did you have to do that?" She's probably already on her way to Ron!
"I'm sick of her always deciding what I can, or can't, do," Astoria fired back. "And, honestly, you sound sick of it too. What's so wrong about us two socialising, exactly?"
"Your sister isn't very fond of me, for one," Draco remarked, inhaling sharply. "Oh, and she has Ron's ear, and she's not afraid of bending the truth to get her way. Bloody hell… Of all the people you could've picked to be your shield, why did it have to be me?"
Astoria grimaced, looking thoroughly put off. "…I was trying to help you, but whatever. Enjoy spending your night alone, loser."
"Trying to help me?" Draco repeated, but she'd already begun walking away. "Do I look like I need help? No… I'm doing perfectly fine on my own." …Fuck… Now, I'll also get in trouble for losing her… Masterfully done, Draco, you idiot…
His thoughts were interrupted by some rather loud giggling, and he looked to his left to see Chang and her girlfriends taking the piss at his expense. …Ugh… A terrible contempt began to bubble deep inside his belly, not just for the rude Ravenclaw girls, but also for himself. There was a time, not too long ago, when he wasn't always at the mercy of others. There was a time when they were at his mercy, and… he'd never been merciful, had he? No… He had taken every opportunity to mock, belittle, torment, and oppress those around him, because doing so had made him feel strong and superior. …I've no right to fight back, do I? What would be the point, even? I'd just fail, like I always do, and they'd just laugh harder and harder.
He lowered his gaze before the Ravenclaw girls, the hot anger in his belly being smothered by his reality, his fists clenching impotently as their sniggering got bolder. …I never should've come here… I'll wait until the food is being served, and I'll sneak-…
"Are you lot laughing at my friend?" Ron's voice cut through his thoughts, and the incessant giggling, like a hot blade through butter.
He quickly turned on his heel, surprised by the redhead's sudden appearance. Merlin's Beard, where the fuck did he come from?!
"Well? Are you?" Ron asked the girls, his tone eerily polite.
"It sounded like they were," Lovegood said, her head peeking out from behind Ron. "They do that, sometimes, especially to other girls."
"…No," Edgecombe refuted weakly, the humour completely gone from her face. "We were just-"
"Leaving," Ron interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "Sod off, before I do something you lot will forever regret." The Ravenclaws all turned around and left in a hurry, whispering erratically to one another. "You all right, mate? What happened?"
"…I'm fine," Draco lied, studying Ron and his sisters. "I suppose, I know where you disappeared off to, now. Thanks for that, by the way. I loved waiting around like some idiot." …Careful, don't let your tongue get you into trouble.
"Oh, right, I was supposed to come back!" Ron remembered, laughing before taking a swig from a revoltingly large goblet. "Sorry, Draco, but I got ambushed by a bunch of people, and then, I was with my sisters. Luna, Ginny… You know Draco, right?" I've lived in your house, you moron. How much have you had to drink so far?
"…Obviously," Ginny muttered under her breath; she was wearing an oddly subdued expression. What's wrong with her? She's usually so… spirited.
"Hello, again," Lovegood greeted him far more enthusiastically, smiling widely. "You look lonely, Draco. Do you want to join us?" …Loony Lovegood…
Draco shifted in his spot, mostly because her unblinking gaze was making him even more uncomfortable than her words. I'm not sure if-…
"Come on," Ron patted his arm, smiling knowingly. "Don't be stubborn, now, you git. Let's go have some fun!" Draco was about accept the offer, when the redhead suddenly grinned at someone behind him. "Tracey! And the other one!"
Draco took a step to the side, looking towards Tracey and Blaise, the pair were heading straight for them.
"The other one? Really?" Blaise didn't sound, or appear, pleased. "Still acting like a prick, I see."
"And you're still being a fucking ponce," Ron countered swiftly.
The two boys stared at each other for nearly a minute, until Blaise's lips quirked upwards. "…You're drunk."
"I'm tipsy," Ron corrected, snorting. "If I was drunk, I'd be fighting someone right now."
"Who?" Lovegood asked, genuinely curious.
"Anyone!" Ron grinned frighteningly. "Chang and her friends! Diggory and his mates! Pansy and her Elves! Dean Thomas! I'd be throwing fists in every direction!" What the fuck is wrong with your brain? Oh, wait, it's fried, isn't it? "I'd even fight you, Luna!" He pinched her side, causing her to squeal and jump behind Ginny for cover. "Speaking of getting drunk… Why do you have two drinks, Blaise? Did I really hurt your feelings that badly?" Feelings? You all but admitted to wanting to dance on our parents' graves! Who are you, truly? What goes on inside that twisted head of yours?
"…Right," the ebony wizard sighed out, turning his attention towards Draco. "…Here. This one's for you." Wait, what? You got me a drink?! Why?! What did you put in it?!
Draco stared at the extended beverage with a great deal of scrutiny, before turning his focus back onto Blaise, who was looking increasingly more irritated with him. From the corner of his vision, he could also see Tracey sniggering to herself, taking an immense amount of pleasure out of Blaise's discomfort. She put him up to this, didn't she?
"…Thanks," Draco accepted the drink, feeling strangely comforted by the bizarre gesture. The fact that he even went through with it shows that things aren't as hopeless as I see them, right?
"What should we do, now?" Ron asked them, looking around for suggestions. "Blaise? You helped organise this, didn't you? Give us a suggestion." …I have one, but I'm not sure if I should give voice to it.
"Well, I can't allow anyone to leave the ballroom," Blaise started, taking a long sip. "I'm guessing you don't want to be approached by people you don't know."
"No, definitely not," Ron nodded. Was he using his sisters as a defence? Probably. Nothing he does is without purpose, after all.
"You two," Blaise looked to Ron's sisters. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to go see the Unicorns, again," Lovegood immediately answered. "Why isn't anyone allowed to leave the ballroom? Is something about to happen?" …I hope you like grown men wearing mascara…
"We already saw them twice, Luna," Ginny rolled her eyes. "I want another drink." Why's she being so sullen?
"We could… socialise and get to know… our schoolmates?" Tracey teased Ron directly, who pulled a face. "You big baby."
"Draco?" Ron looked to him. "You're being cagey, I know it. What's on your mind?" Damn you, Weasley. Stop reading me like I'm some book.
Draco drew in a sharp breath, hesitating. "…Greengrass. The smaller one. I um… We had a run in, and she sounded like she was looking for company. We could find her."
"Oh, I like that idea," Lovegood nodded fervently. "Astoria is very funny. Ron, let's go find her."
"All right, we'll get Ginny and myself another drink, and then, we'll find the Scamp of Slytherin," Ron agreed. "Let's go, you fucking cunts! With me!"
Blaise, Ginny, and Draco exchanged anxious glances, whereas Luna and Tracey followed after Ron with blissful smiles. He's going to become a problem if he keeps drinking, isn't he? Well, at least, it'll be entertaining, and I won't be alone. That's infinitely better than how I was faring on my own. I'm really glad he found me when he did. He has a knack for coming through for me when I need him most.
Ronald Weasley's POV
Thursday 1st July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Late Night)
"I hope you all enjoyed the banquet my amazing Elves prepared for you!" Pansy shouted, and she was met with deafening cheers, much to her satisfaction. Amazing Elves? I like that. They are amazing. "Now, I myself have prepared a surprise for you, and most of you are going to love it!" Some of these barrels contain mulled wine? "Tonight, just for our pleasure, the Weird Sisters are here!" The fucking what?
There were a few seconds of stunned silence, before the dining room erupted in screams of passion and ecstasy. Even Ginny was screaming, hugging Luna alongside Astoria as the pair stomped their feet excitedly like overstimulated monkeys. The Weird Sisters, huh? At least, she's no longer brooding about her tantrum not working on me.
"If you could all make your way back to the-!" Pansy went on, but before she could even finish, the vast majority of girls rushed for the doors, including Ginny and Astoria, the frenzied pair dragging a startled Luna along.
Ron, however, remained rooted to his spot, as did Blaise, Tracey, and Draco, all three of them being shoved and yanked as people rushed past them. He didn't bother putting up a fight, his head was already spinning like a tornado so it was only fair his body felt the same thrill. Blaise and Draco, however, were not pleased with being treated so roughly, the latter even grabbing onto Ron's arm for support. All this commotion for a bunch of men wearing dresses? What the fuck is wrong with the human race? Hold on… I'm not expected to listen to their garbage music, am I? Fuck no! I'm not doing that! Haven't I suffered enough?!
As the dining room became emptier and emptier, Ron eventually found himself alone with Blaise, Tracey, Draco, and Pansy herself, who approached her friends with a smug smile. "This is it! After this, I'll be the queen of Hogwarts! I really did it! I pulled it off!" What a great achievement, eh? In a couple of years, it won't mean a damn thing, of course, because everyone will be too busy trying to survive the Dark Lord, but good on you.
"Not alone, I'll remind you," Blaise pointed out, whereas Ron bit his tongue. Why is there no mulled wine? Why is there no Emilia Travers? Merlin, I'd give anything for her to be here, just so I can have a conversation that isn't boring.
"Everyone I've spoked to, I've sang your praises!" Pansy giggled, hugging Blaise tightly. "Thank you so much! You're the best!" Is he really? Well, you can only have all of this because of me, not that you know that.
Blaise returned her hug awkwardly, smiling faintly. "Go and enjoy the concert, Pans. You've earned it."
"Let's go together!" Pansy looked to the others, staring mostly at the towering redhead. "Your sisters love them, I know that! Do you?!" Oh, yeah, I fucking love them! I wish they'd drag their tiny bollocks across my face!
"Not really, but I'm happy for you," Ron put on his best smile. "I reckon, I'll stay behind and eat up the scraps still left on the table. I'm not satisfied just yet."
"Are you serious?" Pansy blinked, slowly losing her mirth. "…Ron…" What? I don't care for music in general. It's all pointless noise, as far as I'm concerned.
"I'm still hungry," Ron tried, but both Pansy and Tracey were looking more and more bothered by his decision to stay behind. Oh, just fuck off, please. Leave me be. Is it not enough that I keep you people alive? Must I tolerate your whims at every turn, as well? …Be a little fair, before I lose my fucking-…
"Merlin, I almost got trampled by that lot," came Daphne's voice, distracting them all. "I had to cling to Max McDean for safety! Him and Diggory helped escort me out of the room in one piece!"
They all looked to her, and as she smoothed out her dress, Ron felt an all-too-familiar sense of comfort wash over him, all his anxieties wilting away at the sight of her glowing smile. I know I'm drunk, but was she always this pretty? That golden hair, the adorable dimples, her beautiful eyes… I'll never understand why a girl like her ever gave an ugly bastard like me a shot to begin with. Was the Universe itself trying to make it up to me? Surely, because she's so far out of my league that it's not even funny.
Pansy opened her mouth to speak, but Ron found his own voice rushing out to catch Daphne's attention first. "Hello, Daphne."
"Hello, Ron," Daphne playfully mimicked his voice, smiling in an amused manner. "Having fun?" I am, now.
"He doesn't want to join us for the concert," Pansy complained, whereas Blaise and Tracey smirked at him knowingly. "Can you do your thing, please?"
"My thing?" Daphne asked, even more amused.
"Where you convince him to not be antisocial," Pansy clarified with narrowed eyes. …I'm not antisocial. I've simply had my fill of noise for the night, that's all.
"I'm not being antisocial, Pans, I just…" he trailed off, his intoxicated mind trying to come up with a decent excuse. "…It's been a very loud night, all right? I've got a headache, a rather painful one, and I don't want it to get worse. You understand, right?"
The girls swiftly lost their mirth, exchanging worried glances. The brain-damage card… It never fails me.
"You do look a bit pale," Pansy murmured. I do? I mean, of course, I do! "I'll take you up to your room, so you can-"
"Why don't you lot go ahead? I'll stay with him," Daphne interrupted, pressing the back of her fingers against his cheek. "We'll join you shortly, I promise." What?! No! Don't do this to me!
"I'll stay too," Draco volunteered. "Don't really care much for the Wicked Sisters." Oi! Fuck off! Daphne and I don't need a third wheel!
"Actually, I'd like you to keep an eye on my sister," Daphne said, surprising even Ron. "She seems to like you, Malfoy, so I'd really appreciate your help on this. I'm worried about what will happen if she gets overexcited." Why not ask Blaise to watch over Astoria? He's much more reliable, isn't-…? Oh, I know! Clever move, Daph!
"I agree," Ron said quickly, cutting off Draco before he could refuse. "Oh, go on! Like Daphne said, we'll join you lot in a bit, anyway."
"…Fine," Draco said dully, visibly displeased. "I'll keep playing nanny, then." Nanny? You're the one who suggested we find her, remember?
"We'd better go, I don't want to miss their opening," Pansy said in a defeated tone, her now peculiar gaze lingering on Daphne. "…Can't help yourself, can you?"
Ron cocked a confused eyebrow, whereas Daphne just stared at the raven-haired witch until she, and the others, were gone. What was that? Are they having a spat I don't know about? It sounds like it concerns me.
"Um, what was that?" Ron eventually asked, and the Greengrass heiress clenched her jaw in response.
"She wants to snog you, and she no longer cares to hide it," Daphne told him, sounding rather irritated. Pansy and me snogging? Hm… "So… This headache of yours… It's not real, is it?"
"That obvious, am I?" the redhead snorted, moving over to the table.
"You can't do that, Ron," she admonished. "Haven't you heard about the boy who cried wolf?"
"What else was I supposed to do?" Ron asked, shrugging. "Do I look like I enjoy the Weird Sisters? All they do is scream at their audiences, whining about lost loves and heartbreak. They're pathetic."
"…That's a harsh criticism," Daphne said, and when he looked back, she shifted in her spot. "They don't scream, okay? They have a lot of passion, just like you. Blood Sucker? One of their first songs? It's about the prejudice Vampires face every day in the Wizarding World. It's really quite moving." So, they sing about injustice, instead of fighting to right it? What a bunch of heroes!
"Daphne Greengrass, are you secretly a fan?" Ron teased, much to her chagrin. "Are you sure you want to stay here with me? When you could be standing in the front row?"
"Don't be an arse," Daphne huffed in indignation, walking over to him. "I enjoy some of their songs, but I much prefer your company."
Ron smiled from ear-to-ear, greatly pleased by her words. "Where were you all night? After you threw Ginny on me, you just vanished. I searched for you."
"It was just one thing after another," she replied. "Also, I didn't want to distract you. I wanted you to spend time with your sisters. They miss you, you know?"
"I know, and I tried to make it up to them as best I could," Ron offered her his goblet, which she readily accepted. "My efforts didn't stop Ginny from throwing a fit at me, but, in hindsight, that was my own damn fault."
"Ginny threw a fit?" Daphne asked, her brow furrowed.
"I thought that if I explained my feelings to her, she'd take them into consideration, but my plan blew up in my face. She's never considered how I feel before, so I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. It was… stupid of me, all in all. Luckily, Luna was there to sort her out, but she's still being pissy."
"I wish you hadn't done that, Ron."
"Me too." I just want this bit of drama over. Why do I have to explain myself to anyone? It's not like people try to understand me, anyway. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"
"To what?"
"To your dress," Ron grinned wolfishly, making her laugh. "Where did you get it?"
"From Pansy's closet," Daphne took a step back, showing it off.
"Pansy, eh? I bet, she's regretting giving it you, now."
"It's not the dress that gives me power over you," Daphne smirked, taking a long, victorious sip.
"You're right… Your tits do."
"Stop that," she swiftly smacked his arm, making him laugh. "If you must refer to them so casually, call them breasts, at least. I resent the word 'tits'. It's degrading."
"How about udders?" Ron asked, earning himself another smack.
"I'm not a cow, you prick," Daphne laughed, despite the scandalised look on her face. "Maybe, I should just let Pansy have you. You'd drive her mad within the week."
"Is she really out to snog me?" Ron had to ask. "Why? There are loads of boys here who are interested in her. Especially tonight."
"She's always had a soft spot for you, though, and you for her," Daphne answered. "…I don't know. I don't truly understand what's going on with her, lately. She's been acting very… bizarre. Cheating during the Duelling Tournament, putting together this insane party, constantly wearing that jacket you got her… Not to mention what she said about her parents when you and Malfoy arrived." She's trying to impress me, it sounds like, and it's working. "Speaking of when you and Malfoy arrived… Blaise told me you were cruel to him." Did he, now? "Very cruel, Ron."
"He annoyed me," Ron countered.
"How so?" Daphne challenged.
"His tone was disrespectful, and he implied that I'm bad for Pansy. That I'm encouraging her in the worst sort of way." He doesn't get it. Pansy and I both understand that the world is better off without her-…
"Oh, so your threats to him were entirely warranted," she drawled, putting the goblet away. "He's worried about Pansy's behaviour, Ron, and instead of listening to his concerns, you decided to be a brute." Of course, I'm always in the wrong, aren't I?
"I'm only a brute because all my previous efforts with you lot have failed," Ron didn't bother hiding his frustrations. "You, Blaise, Draco, Theo, Millicent… All of you have no regard for the damage your parents have done to this world. Forgive me for being glad that, at least, Pansy understands how I feel. Her parents were a disease, and she was right to purge the very memory of them from this manor." They would have killed her, eventually, the sick fucks! Right in this fucking house, no less!
"She's bitter and full of contempt! Is that what you want for her?!"
"Don't do that," Ron frowned, how did they go from flirting to fighting in mere seconds?
"Do what?" Daphne crossed her arms.
"Raise your voice at me. We can disagree without resorting to shouting."
"I'm only shouting because you're frustrating me," Daphne frowned back, though her voice was softer, now. "Blaise walked away from his mother, lost everything because he shares your ideals, but just because he doesn't want to destroy her, you act like he's part of the problem? You're so unfair, sometimes. You can't even bring yourself to imagine what he's going through? How scared and alone he must be feeling?"
"I don't have to imagine that, believe me," Ron lost some steam, her words causing a dent in his armour. "Blaise is willing to hold grudges against Harry, against Draco, and against anyone else he feels slighted by, but not his murderous mother? The woman who abandoned him on the street when he was just a boy? The woman who treats him as an accessory, rather than a son? He's terrified of her, Daphne… If he could destroy her tomorrow without exposing himself to any danger, he would. I promise you, he really would. I find that to be cowardly, and I won't pretend otherwise. Who is he to lecture Pansy on how to feel, when he has no idea what to do with himself? At least, Pansy is moving forward, despite her shortcomings. At least, she's trying to be her own person. What is Blaise doing? Cowering behind her, even as he judges her?"
"…Not everyone can be brave all the time," Daphne said disappointedly, shaking her head to herself. "Not even you."
"This isn't about bravery, it's about picking a side, and Pansy has picked hers. She picked mine. Millicent didn't, Theo doesn't even think about it, and despite knowing the truth about your own parents, you still protect them." You're a bunch of ungrateful cunts, sucking the life out of me! How much more of myself must I sacrifice for you?! How fucking much?!
Daphne drew in a sharp breath; he had stuck his finger into an open wound. "So, that's what this is about, huh? You're angry with me. Go on, just admit it, already." He pinched his eyes, his head spinning from the copious amount of alcohol in his system. This conversation is starting to really piss me off. I should just leave-… "You think I'm proud of what I did?! I'm ashamed, okay?! There! Are you happy, now?! You finally rubbed it in my face!"
"If you're so bloody ashamed, then why did you do it?!" Ron blurted out, slamming his fist on the table and making her jump from fright. "Watching Zotair and his people die from disease and pestilence wasn't enough for you?! What will it take, then?! How many destroyed lives do I have to show you before you see your cunt parents for what they really are?! How many times must I throw myself between you and the Aurors?! When will you realise what's happening right in front of you?!" Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but her voice refused to come out in the face of his rage. "You think I've lost all my love for them?! You think I don't miss your father?! I do! I wish things could be different, but I can't ignore what they've done, no matter how much it hurts! No matter how long ago it was! If I do that, then I might as well stop fighting all the other bastards like them! You can't even begin to understand the strength it takes to stand by one's convictions, because for all your talk of bettering your family, you're just a spoiled little bitch who still craves daddy's approval! I'm warning you, Daphne Greengrass, you don't want to pick their side over mine! If you do…" he paused, trembling with righteous fury. "…I'll bury you right next to them." Your sister too! I'll kill the whole bloody lot of you, and I'll fucking enjoy it! The cycle ends here! Your family will not harm another innocent soul! I won't allow it!
A horrible silence fell over them, and it didn't take long for Ron's conscience to lash out against him, bombarding him with devastating guilt for losing control over his worst emotions. …I don't care… She has no problem with cutting me down with her words… She's done it so many times, hasn't she? Well, I can do it too… Why do I always have to be the bigger person? I didn't ask for any of this, but I'm doing the best I can, aren't I? The guilt persisted, however, as his justifications failed him, becoming too much for him to bear when her hurt slowly etched itself onto her face. …Fuck…
"Daphne-"
"You're a fucking arsehole, Ron! You and my father deserve each other!" Daphne's voice cracked, shoving him away before hurrying towards the exit. "I wish I never met you!"
He watched her receding back in silence, feeling more and more lightheaded as time dragged on. …What the fuck did I just do? I-… I fucking lost it… I lost it completely… He had to lean against the table just to support his own weight, his lungs wheezing for air. The walls were already trying to close in on him, trying to smother him for his latest transgression, and a part of him dearly wished that they would, just so he could finally be free of himself. …She was right… Lord Greengrass and I… We're both evil men infecting the lives of those closest to us, poisoning them with our tainted love… We both need to be put down, for the sake of the innocent… And, I'll make sure it happens, no matter what it takes.
Dragging himself off the table, he headed for the exit in a fugue-state, crossing the many rooms without even realising where he was going. He simply took one step after another, walking aimlessly until he found himself in a very familiar spot. Blinking repeatedly, he stared down at the gravel beneath his feet, before focusing on the unmoving body of Pansy Parkinson; her clothes torn, her bare back covered in thick, bloody welts, and her swollen belly hard-pressed against the ground. …I've been here before, haven't I? He fell onto his hands and knees, lifting his gaze towards her bruised face and lifeless eyes. I killed her, Pans, for you. She won't hurt you ever again. She screamed for mercy, but I showed none, because she showed you none. I killed her, and I wish I could do it a hundred more times.
"Murderer," Octavia's voice echoed in his head, full of accusation and resentment.
"Le fléau de Vélane," Lady Abadie joined in.
"Killer," Victor hissed hatefully.
"Tyrant," Carey sobbed, fearful for her life.
"Blood-Traitor filth!" Amycus and Alecto Carrow roared.
"Fucking Dark Wizard," Leonard, the American Auror, spat out.
He felt himself curl up, the weight of their words crushing him.
"…Monster," Ron whimpered, his stomach churning and his mouth watering. "…Fucking degenerate cunt… Evil piece of shit… Bloody failu-"
His words were cut off by a torrent of vomit, staining the ground where Pansy's body had been just a few seconds ago. He heaved and shook, his nostrils and eyes burned, but the contents of his stomach continued to abandon him, even as his knees and hands became soaked. …Just die, already… Just fucking die… Rid the world of you, because it deserves far better…
"Boss?!" someone grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him over. "Ron?! Are you okay?!"
"…Ugh…" the redhead groaned, the taste and smell of vomit turning his stomach. "…No…"
Slowly, his sore eyes began to adjust, London's panicked face coming into view. "Merlin's fucking Beard! Help me, Elf! What are you doing just standing there?!"
"Carbey will not touch the foul Blood-Traitor," an Elf's voice responded, marred with disgust. "May it die in its own sick."
"What? What did you just say?" London started, turning her head furiously. "You mangy little-"
"…It's fine," Ron managed, slowly sitting up. "W-Where am I?"
London grit her teeth, looking back to him. "…You're at Parkinson Manor." …Right…
"…Gods, I'll never… drink, again…" he felt violated by his own stupidity, more and more of his recent memories surfacing to the top. …Daphne… I lost it at her… Made her cry, again…
"Come on, let's get you up," London helped him to his feet, ignoring his wretched state. "Why didn't anyone help you? You could've died out here!"
"Carbey forbid it," the Elf explained, a cruel smile flashing across his face. "Begone, scum. Do not sully Mistress' home ever again."
"I'm about to fucking end you, you shitstain," London promised, but Ron simply waved a dismissive hand. …Coming here was a mistake to begin with.
"…Leave it…" he croaked, vowing to never return. "Let's just go, please."
London didn't need to be told twice, all but carrying him back towards the manor. "…Bloody heartless bastard, that Elf! The whole lot of them, in fact!"
"…What are you doing here?" Ron asked, the pair of them crossing the threshold. I can hear the Weird Sisters… They must still be holding their concert. "Is it Argenope? Has she made her move?" I fucking hope not, because in my current state, she'll end me without breaking a sweat.
"No, boss, but there's been an incident back at the Werewolf Sanctuary," London answered, her voice low. An incident?! "Someone broke into your home-"
"Marty?!" his mind and body jerked to life, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-water on his head. "Marty was watching the-!"
"He's okay," London said quickly, holding him in place. "No one was hurt."
Ron, however, wasn't relieved by her words, pushing her away and running on ahead as if his life depended on it. Another assassin?! Fucking fuck! She chased after him, both of them ignoring Pansy's Elves and mercenaries as they rushed for the exit.
He stared down at the sleeping Elf, still shaken despite knowing that his friend was safe. …I'm so sorry, mate… I should've been here with you…
"He was frantic," London whispered from behind him. "Crying about failing you, about the 'Seals' being broken… I couldn't get him to calm down, so I slipped some Sleeping Draught into his tea. Took me an hour just to convince him to drink it. He-… He was bloody terrified…"
"Of what?" Ron asked, someone was going to pay very dearly for hurting Marty.
"Of you," London replied, shocking him.
"…Pardon?" he turned to face her. Why would Marty be afraid of me?
"That's the impression I got," London sighed out. "Or, maybe, he was terrified of just failing his Master… I don't know… Like I said, he was frantic, and most of what he raved about went over my head."
Ron looked back to his Elf, reaching forward to touch him, but stopping just before he made contact. …I ought to let him rest. He's been through enough for one night.
"Let's get you cleaned up, Ron," London called, gesturing him to follow her out of the bedroom. "Come on."
He followed her without making a sound, but the moment he closed the door behind him, the question in the back of his throat broke free. "How. Did. This. Happen?"
London stared at him, wary and guilty in equal measure. "…Most of us are in Hafren Forest, boss, per your orders. You have us patrolling an incredibly large amount of ground, so we need most of our wands up there. The lad I left in charge of the Wards here, he…" she trailed off.
"He what?" Ron growled, his anger mounting and mounting.
"This is his first job, all right?" London lowered her gaze. "Whoever broke the Wards, they did such a damn good job that he didn't even realise, and by the time he did, it was too late. The intruder was gone."
"You left an incompetent behind to mind the fucking Wards?!" Ron hissed, the lights in the corridor flickering as his eyes flashed red. You fucking moron!
London went wide-eyed, taking a shaky step back. "…I-I-"
It took everything in his power to stop himself from pulling out his wand and blowing her head off, his fingers digging into his messy hair and yanking them furiously. "…Who is he? This idiot you left in charge?" London remained silent, gawking at him in a panic. "Fucking talk!"
"…Richard," she mumbled, flinching. "…He's just a lad… T-This is my fault-"
"Yes, it is," Ron sneered, breathing heavily. "…And mine…" She's right about me sending most of the wands to the forest. I spread my forces too thin, and someone took advantage of that. When the leader is at fault, can his underlings truly be blamed? "…You're so fucking lucky I threw up most of the alcohol… Get the fuck out of here before I fucking rip your head off…" She wasted no time in removing herself from his sight, but just before she vanished, he made sure she heard his final words to her. "Artyom wouldn't have allowed this fuck up to happen. If he were still here, the others would have been sharp and ready. Even this idiot 'lad' of yours. Your men don't respect you, nor do they fear you. You don't deserve to be his second in command."
She lingered by the door, before sodding off into the night. …His first job, eh? Fuck! I can't even kill him, then! I can't be certain he fits my code! Left alone with his thoughts, Ron pressed his face against the bedroom door. What if Marty had been killed? While I was out making a fool of myself? I fucked up! I put him, and everyone else here, in danger! That cannot happen ever again! Never! He began removing his filthy suit off bit by bit, revolted by his lack of vigilance. I've become far too comfortable here, far too complacent… I'm not invulnerable, never have been, and if I keep being careless, I'm bound to die before I can complete my mission. This place… It's no longer safe, and it's bred weakness in me. It-… It has to go… I have to go… To the one place I know where I won't be found…
A Hot Shower Later
"…The Seals…" Ron whispered to himself, kneeling before the chests in his closet.
He placed his palms on them, Sensing no Elf-Magic guarding them. Son of a bitch! He quickly pulled the one on the right out, opening it and growing wide-eyed. …It's all out of order! The intruder… They know one of my most closely-guarded secrets! They know about the files, about the Carrow Twin Massacre! No one was supposed to see these chests, let alone break into them! Fuck me in the arse! He opened the one on the left next, it too had been tampered with, his silver face tossed to a corner unceremoniously. He picked it up, holding it close to his chest. Who was behind this? Who?! None of this makes any fucking sense!
He stood up, pacing back and forth, trying to put all the pieces together. The intruder didn't kill Marty… They didn't threaten the Werewolves… They didn't even bother taking the files, the evidence… Why? If they were out to destroy me, they just left the Holy Grail behind. Why would they do that? Unless… It wasn't information they were after, but rather, confirmation. Someone who already knows I'm guilty, but also someone who isn't a murderer? Not a Death-Eater, nor an assassin… Someone with… principles… A code of their own…
Ron stopped, his expression darkening. Alastor Moody. He fits quite nicely, doesn't he? An expert at breaking Wards, even those created using Elf-Magic, and getting past a scant few guards would be no trouble for the greatest Auror in Magical Britain's history. I saw him, too, before my meeting with Gornuk. He was watching me. His fingers dug into his silver face, his eyes turning crimson and toad-like. …Moody… That misshapen mongrel! He would dare?! What is he after, huh?! What is his game?! He drew in several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down before thoughts of vengeance blinded him to reason. …Despite his snooping, he too doesn't fit the code. He doesn't prey upon the innocent, no. He… is a hero… A man who saved countless lives during the war. Killing him might make my life easier, but it would spit on everything I believe in. It would be an evil act, nothing less.
Placing his scarred hand over his forehead, Ron found himself feeling cornered once again. "…The Headmaster… If he won't let me show Moody the truth, then he can deal with his errant friend… I've made enough rash decisions for one night…" He nodded to himself, exhaling tiredly. "…I'll go to him come the morning. I must distance myself before this situation spirals out of control."
He tiptoed over to the bed, gazing down on Marty, again. Moody spared his life, for that alone, I owe the man a chance to back off. Our real enemy is the Dark Lord, not each other. I must follow the old man's wisdom in this matter, because I'm no longer certain I have any of my own. Ron tossed his silver face onto his side of the bed, unsheathing his wands and leaving the bedroom. I'll keep watch, make sure Marty gets his well-deserved rest. I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight, anyway.
He planted himself on the couch, unblinkingly watching the door, until an all-too-familiar, and unwelcome, voice distracted him. "Long night, wasn't it?" Oh, for fuck's sake! "Watching you give Greengrass that sorely-needed tongue lashing! Merlin, it was beyond cathartic!"
"…Piss off, ghost. I'm in no mood."
"I'm not here to mock you, mate," Ravenclaw Ron floated into view, grinning mischievously. "You gave her a fair warning, at last, and what she does now is completely up to her." …That's true. Despite my drunkenness, I was honest for once. "Every time I start thinking you've gone soft; you prove me wrong!" That's can't be a good sign, can it?
"I lost control," Ron said coldly, the guilt slowly seeping back. "…I made her cry."
"You showed her a glimpse of who you really are," Ravenclaw Ron sniggered. "If only I knew that getting you obscenely drunk was the secret, I'd have done it ages ago!"
"…You hate her that much, do you?" Ron sneered at his ethereal counterpart.
"Hate? Me? I don't hate anyone!" Ravenclaw Ron 'gasped'. "I'm simply… indifferent to lesser beings, because there are infinite of them. Infinite Daphnes, infinite Rons. None truly matter, because none are truly unique, save for you and I." Ah, yes, we're Gods, aren't we? Piss off. "She makes you weak, they all do. They pull your attention away from your mission. Oh, and when you spend more than a few days with them, they start realising that they don't really like you, they can't even begin to unravel the cosmic clusterfuck you are, which sends you in a spiral of self-pity and self-contempt. It's a cycle I'm more than tired of, and can you really blame me?" Ron averted his gaze, his past-self's words stabbed right at his heart. "You were at some stupid little party, while Marty was here… All by his himself… His death would've been on your head-"
"Shut the fuck up," Ron hissed, murderous. "Don't ever speak his name!"
"Why not? I quite like your little pet, in spite of his meaningless existence," Ravenclaw Ron laughed in the face of his wrath. "He alone has shown you more loyalty than I ever saw in my own Cycle. I know he's our closest companion, and so, I cherish his every breath." Our?! Cherish? Don't make me laugh! You cherish nothing but your own skin, you ginger cunt! "And, tonight, he could've died, because, once again, little Ronnie wanted to be normal. Little Ronnie wanted to be human." Again, he averted his gaze, feeling sick all over. "You'll never be normal, and why the fuck would you want to be? Being normal means being like your friends. Lost, confused, weak-willed… Unable to tell your elbow from your arsehole. If you were normal, this world would end in a baptism of fire and Dark Magic."
"…Just say what you want to say, and fuck off," Ron sighed out, deflating. "I told you, already, I'm in no mood."
"You can't be selfless and selfish at the same time," Ravenclaw Ron advised, losing his childish mirth. "You can't be two people at once. You're either the Champion, or you're Ronald Weasley. Pick one, before you get yourself killed, and damn us both to the World Eater's whims."
The mere thought of the Entity sapped the blood from his face, leaving him anxious and disturbed, and when he looked up, his past-self was gone. "…I'd rather take the risk of failing than turn out like you… This world doesn't need another Dark Lord, nor an indifferent God… It needs someone who gives a damn… It needs me, warts and all…"
Friday 2nd July, 1994 (The Cottage – Morning)
He was exhausted, but fully sober, his resolved gaze surveying the packed boxes and empty shelves. Despair had almost claimed him, again, last night, and he could only blame the alcohol so much. It's like every painful thought and memory was just waiting to get out, waiting for me to lower my guard. Fuck, what a mess I made of everything, and all for a night I barely even enjoyed. How embarrass-…
"Master, is this truly necessary?" Marty asked, deeply worried. "Master loves this cottage. It is Master's home." …I do, and it was, but wherever I go, trouble follows, and these people have suffered enough. I won't bring further death to their doorsteps.
"I'm sorry, Marty," Ron apologized for the dozenth time. "But we can't stay here, not after last night. I have made far too many enemies for us to have neighbours that we care about. It's just another sacrifice I have to make, and that's that. I'm sorry you have to make it too, but I need you with me. I can't do this alone."
"But Master is happy here," the Elf said in a pleading voice. "Marty has seen it, and-"
"Happiness at the cost of other people's safety is wrong," Ron interrupted. "No more of this, okay? We are leaving." Please, just stop it. This is hard enough as it is.
Marty's shoulders sagged in defeat, though his feet remained still. "…Marty is at fault, Mas-"
"No," Ron shut that idea down swiftly. "No, Marty, none of this is your fault. You never asked for any of this. You were just unfortunate enough to become bound to me, and even that was out of your control. Don't ever speak like that, again, okay? This is on me, and I need to take responsibility."
Marty nodded unconvincingly, sniffling. "…Marty is still sorry…" Really? Waterworks? Right now?
Ron kneeled down and hugged the Elf tightly, grateful that he still had the privilege. I have no idea what I'd do he'd died last night, save for burning Alastor Moody alive. "I love you." Marty hugged him back, sniffling rather loudly, now. "It's okay. We're still okay. The worst didn't come to pass, and that's all that matters. No guilt, you understand me? No crying over spilled milk. We still have so much work to do."
"Much work, yes," Marty cried, the shame in his voice cut Ron to the bone. "Marty will not let Master down-"
"You never have. Not even once." They separated, and Ron used his handkerchief to wipe away the Elf's fat tears. "You, out of everything and everyone, are the best thing that ever happened to me. I've only made it this far because of you. Don't ever forget that." Marty gave another meek nod, still refusing to meet his gaze. I need to give him another task. Distract him from drowning in his guilt. "Wash up, then go find London and bring her here. I have orders for her."
"At once, Master," the Elf said, cracking away without delay. Merlin, he sees all of this as his fault. Damn you, Moody, you vindictive cunt. You've destroyed what little peace Marty and I managed to build for ourselves.
Alone, now, he moved through the packed-up cottage, taking in every nook and cranny for the last time. He had come to love this place with all of his heart, despite his short stay, and to have it ripped away from him so cruelly… So abruptly… It was a harsh reminder of his lot in life, of what was expected of him. Comfort, a home, sunlight and flowers… The Champion's world didn't consist of such pleasures. His world was uncomfortable, lonely, and cold, because if it was anything but, then others would be denied life's infinite wonders. It's not all bad, though. I still enjoy privileges no one else can, and I must focus on them. Let them give me the strength I need to keep fighting the good fight. This place… It was lovely, and I will never forget it, but now, I must return to my world.
As he re-entered the living room, he heard something knocking impatiently on one of the windows. Helios! He's back! And just in time! Ron rushed over to let the owl in, inspecting his bloody beak. "Someone had another successful hunt, didn't he? What did you kill this time? A rat? Another bird, perhaps?" Helios let out a proud hoot, flying onto his shoulder and headbutting his temple. "That's my boy! You've enjoyed your hunts here, haven't you?" Helios flapped his wings, gazing curiously into his master's eyes. "…Well, I've some bad news, mate. Our time here… It's come to an end. I'll let you out to hunt every night, of course, I won't take that from you, but this place… It's no longer your territory. I'm sorry. We'll have to go… underground… for the time being." Helios dug his talons into the redhead's shoulder, making him wince. "Don't do that! Our lot is this, okay? Don't be a brat, or I'll fucking stuff you." The owl eased off, hooting softly. "Don't give me that shit. I won't actually do it, you know that. You, me, and Marty… We're all we-"
The Elf cracked back into the room, as if summoned, bringing London with him, who was quick to look around in bewilderment. "…Are you shitting me? Just like that?"
"Just like that," Ron adorned a sterner expression. "You keep failing me, disappointing me, and, as long as I'm here, my enemies will seek me out and put my charges in danger. I'd rather remove myself from the equation than let that happen." I made Thaddeus a promise, and I'm a man of my word.
"…Bo-… Ron… This is insane!" London gawked at him.
"I've figured out who the intruder was," Ron continued, not caring for her opinions. "We got rather lucky, in a strange sort of way. That 'lad' of yours, who I'm certain is the same twat who was fucking around with the Werewolf girls… Take him to Hafren Forest, and replace him here with someone competent. The safety of the Werewolves is paramount, and I won't have it undermined by inexperience." The ebony witch drew in a deep breath, before giving a half-nod. "When Argenope makes herself known, call out to Marty. He'll be keeping his ears open for your summons."
"What about the princess?" London asked, making him falter. …Daphne… Right…
"You'll just have to make multiple trips, then," Ron shrugged. "We can't cut her out, she's too invested, now. And-… It doesn't matter…" If Argenope does kill me somehow, I don't want to die without seeing her, again. I don't want to die without apologising for what I am. "You'll bring her to the camp, and I'll put this entire sordid affair to bed once and for all."
London looked around the living room, again, her eyes lingering on the empty shelves. "…The captain will have my hide when he comes back."
"No doubt. When it comes to my safety, he can be rather vicious." Have fun, because that motherfucker is too stubborn to die. You'll see him, again, count on it.
"So, you're punishing all of us, after all." Do you think failure has no consequences?
"Do not speak to me of punishment, not when I have to-…" he stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching tightly. …It's just a cottage. Get over it.
"Who is this intruder?" London asked, stepping forward. "You give me a name right now, and I'll silence them forever. It doesn't have to be this way." Silence Alastor Moody? He'd send you back to me in pieces, and then, he'd track me down and put me six feet fucking under. We're not wrestling with that particular lion, not unless we're out of options. "Boss, let me fix this! Please! You're happy here! The Werewolves are happy too! They love that you live with them! It gives them… hope! Hope! That's worth risking my neck for, and-…"
"I'm not the one who peddles in hope, that would be Albus Dumbledore," Ron interrupted. "The Werewolves might miss me, I know I'll miss them, but I will eventually explain to Thaddeus why I left. He is a wise man. A learned man. He will understand my decision, and he'll spread my word to the others. I am… poison. Too much of me is a death sentence."
"Who fucking said that to you?!" London demanded. "Who?!"
He thought back to all the unfortunates who'd crossed him, how he'd dismantled their lives and ended their tenure on this earth. "Summon Marty when Argenope launches her attack. Don't fail me, again." He then waved a dismissive hand. "Marty, take her back to where you found her."
"Come," Marty grabbed her hand, cracking away before she could argue any further. I'm being too soft on her, aren't I? Well, until Artyom returns, I need her. Once he's back, though, he can sort her out for me.
"Want to know where we're going?" Ron asked Helios, who remained silent. "Don't care, eh? As long as we're together, what does it matter?" Helios hooted at that, bringing a smile to his face. "Come then, soldier. Let's make sure everything is packed and ready for transport."
Pansy Parkinson's POV
Friday 2nd July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Late Morning)
Pansy stared at Daphne's sleeping face, the girl's mascara and make-up was in utter ruins. Merlin, I hope I didn't contribute to her night turning out so poorly. I was a bitch to her, and I can only blame the alcohol so much. She reached for the soft quilt, covering her friend and soothingly stroking her hair. …What happened between her and Ron? The Elves say they heard shouting, and then they saw her running upstairs in tears. They also saw Ron heading outside, where he vomited all over himself and passed out. Fuck… How could any of that happen in my own house without me even realising it?! I really am an idiot, aren't I?
Pansy snuck out of the room, very carefully closing the door behind her before facing the rest of her friends.
"Well?" Blaise asked. "Is she okay?"
"No," Pansy sighed out. "She must've cried all night long."
"I'll kill him," Tracey glowered, clenching her fists. "That stupid, s-smug arsehole."
"I'll help," Astoria added, frowning menacingly.
"Me too," Ginny volunteered, matching Tracey's outrage.
Draco and Luna, however, remained silent, merely waiting for Pansy to go on. "I say we let her sleep, okay? What happened between them is their business, not ours. Let's just… not get involved, all right?"
"I'm sure that wou-… would make you very… happy," Tracey glared at her, much to her dismay.
"…I said I was sorry, didn't I?" Pansy mumbled.
"Like that's good… enough," Tracey shoved past her, entering the room.
Astoria rushed forward before the brunette could close the door, the pair of them leaving the group behind to sit with the sleeping Daphne. Pansy felt wracked with shame, struggling to meet the eyes of those still with her. …How could I forget to warn Ron about the Butterbeer? Just because he was flirting back, I turned stupid? And, then, when I saw how drunk he was, I was glad… My chance to steal his affections, right? …I'm a walking disaster…
"Carbey ordered the Elves to leave Ron out in his own mess," Blaise broke the silence, seething. "That twisted fucker needs to be punished, Pansy. Right now. He's crossed a line you can't ignore."
"…I know…" she nodded weakly, even more ashamed. "…He's the only part of my parents' legacy I didn't cast out." But that's going to change, now. He's a bigot, full of hatred and cruelty, just like they were. I was too soft on him, too dependent, but I'll rectify that mistake once and for all. She marched forward, only to stop when the others followed after her. "No, I have to do this alone. This is my house, and Carbey is my Elf. The responsibility lies with me, and me alone. Blaise, can you please make sure the guests are all gone? Ginny, Mal-… Draco… Ginny and Draco… I don't know… Do whatever you want, just don't follow me."
She continued onwards, travelling to the lower floor and heading for the kitchens, where she found Carbey overseeing the work of the other Elves. His expression was harsh and critical, his large eyes scanning every single plate and piece of cutlery for the faintest of marks. …Gods, he's frightening… How did mother and father ever control him? They probably didn't need to, because he agrees with every vile belief they held.
"Carbey, a word," Pansy ordered, drawing in a deep breath. You're his Mistress! You have the power here, not him!
"Mistress," the Head-Elf greeted, making his way over and bowing deeply. "The festivities were a resounding success! Carbey overheard many praise Mistress with the deepest respect!"
"…That's not what I'm here to discuss, Carbey."
The Elf raised his head, curious. "Mistress appears upset."
"I am upset," Pansy frowned, battling her anxieties with everything she had. "You upset me, Carbey. You upset me in the worst way possible."
Carbey looked terribly confused, whereas the other Elves stopped their work to stare at them. "…What is Carbey's crime? Speak, Mistress, and Carbey will atone forthwith-"
"Atone?! You left my friend out in the cold! In his own sick!" Pansy snapped, her voice cracking. "Well?! Do you have anything to say that could justify what you did?!"
Carbey stared at her, eventually lowering his gaze. "…The Blood-Traitor warrants none of Mistress' concern."
Her hand shot up before her mind could process, stopping only when the other Elves gasped in horror. You're fucking sick in the head! Fucking sick! "…Y-You… You would-… How dare you?! How fucking dare you?! You forget that you work for me! That you serve me! That's my friend, and you ordered the others to abandon him in his time of need! What if he'd choked?! What if he'd died from the cold?! My friend, and my guest, dead under my own roof?! You would dishonour me, and call it loyalty?! I ought to order you to jump down flight of stairs!" Carbey bowed his head, again, her anger finally reaching his deaf ears. "Pack up your things! You're no longer my Head-Elf!"
"Mistre-!"
"You will oversee my properties in Magical France, far away from me!" Pansy continued, shaking with anger. "I am banishing you, Carbey! But I won't break our contract! You'll serve me until your final day, but you'll never see me, again! That'll be your punishment!"
Carbey took a step back, horror washing over his small face. "…Mistress, no…"
"Get out of my sight!" Pansy yelled, and the Elf cracked out of existence, unable to defy her command. "And the rest of you! I run this manor, not any Elf! You do as I say, not as you want! If you think otherwise, you'll join Carbey in exile!" Her Elves all bowed their heads, shaking out of fear of banishment. "Shame on all of you! I've treated you kindly and fairly, unlike my parents! I even gave you your own rooms close to my own! I wanted us to be a family! I wanted what I never had growing up! I was just fooling myself, wasn't I?!"
She turned on her heels, marching out of the kitchens in tears. She was furious with Carbey, she was utterly disgusted, and yet, it felt as though she'd severed a limb from her own body. He was an awful creature, malicious and cruel, but he'd always comforted her after her mother's insults and her father's neglect. He was a constant in her life, sitting in her corner long before she'd met her friends, and now, he was gone. …I had to do it… I had to… I never want to turn out like my parents, and as long as he was here, he'd try his hardest to make sure that I did… He left me no choice… This is his fault, not mine…
Albus Dumbledore's POV
Friday 2nd July, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Midday)
"…This is troubling news, Ronald," the old wizard removed his spectacles, pinching his eyes. "Forgive me, I thought I had gotten through to Alastor." Did I make a mistake by sparing him from the truth?
"Can't really blame him for being curious," Ronald shrugged, impressively masking his true feelings. "I'm an interesting bloke."
"He broke into your home, attacked your Elf, and infringed upon your privacy," Albus summarised, staring into the young wizard's eyes. "…And yet, you come to me instead of taking matters into your own hands."
"Disappointed, are you?"
"No… I am exceptionally proud of your restraint," Albus smiled, glad for the silver-lining. A couple of months ago, he'd have hunted Alastor down without mercy. He's finally put his darkest days behind him, I believe.
"Yeah, well… You know… It would've been a pointless fight," Ronald shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "No different than the twins and Peeves. A waste of time and energy."
"Not to mention you'd have proven Alastor's worst fears true."
"That too. I imagine he's a smug cunt when proven right." Now, if only I could do something about his liberal use of profanities.
"Indeed, he is," Albus chuckled. "Worry not, dear boy, I will speak with him and put an end to this matter."
"What if he doesn't care to listen?" Ronald asked. "Then, what?" There's no point in trying to evade his question, is there? He wants an answer, and he won't relent until he gets one.
"If reason fails to reach him, then the truth will have to come into play," Albus said sombrely.
"The Golden Memory?"
"…Yes," Albus gave a soft nod.
"You'd sacrifice your friend, would you?" Ronald cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced. "For me?"
"We cannot afford to lose, and Alastor is his own man," Albus answered. "I wish to spare him from himself, true, but if he continues down this road, if he continues to threaten your safety, then yes. I will be forced to turn his gaze towards the real danger, for better or worse."
"Okay, then," Ronald smacked the armrests of his chair, shooting up to his feet. "Thanks, again."
"Wait just a moment," Albus said, stopping the Slytherin before he could run off. "What did Alastor find, my boy? I must know."
"The files," he answered. "The ones that the Americans gave to me. I keep them in a pair of chests. One with files of those who are still alive, and one with files of those who are dead."
Albus blinked, taken aback by this new knowledge. He's keeping trophies? They definitely sound like trophies. "Why separate chests, Ronald?"
"To keep track, obviously. You've seen the files, there's so many of them. If I keep them all together in a single chest, it'd be a massive waste of time whenever I need to refresh my memory about any given piece of shit." So, it's just for the sake of organisation, is it? I find that very hard to believe. However, he himself might not realise what he's doing. No one taught Tom to keep trophies, he simply felt the need to keep mementos of his exploits in the orphanage. "Why are you staring at me like that?" Because you frighten me, sometimes.
"I might need you, soon," Albus said, leaning back in his chair. "For the memory, my boy."
"…Right."
"Where are you staying, now?"
"…The Chamber…" Ronald hesitantly answered.
"Good heavens-"
"What? It's a perfectly safe place, and there's some more work I need to do on it," the redhead said defensively. "Give me a break, all right? I can't sleep unless I'm certain I'm safe, and I need my sleep. You want me to have another seizure, do you?"
"…But the Chamber, Ronald…" Albus muttered, not hiding his concern. Evil was born and raised there. "Surely, there are alternatives."
"None that sound as promising," Ronald said casually, walking towards the fireplace. "Send Fawkes to find me if Moody gives you trouble."
Albus watched the young wizard leave via the fireplace, adorning a rather grim expression once he was alone. Alastor has made my duty to Ronald a lot more difficult with his meddling. The Chamber… He was so very happy at the farm, surrounded by those who treated him with love and kindness. Now, he will live in the darkness, just so he can feel safe enough to sleep. Oh, Alastor, you've crossed a line with me that can't be uncrossed. Ronald is off-limits, and I'll make sure you understand that properly this time around.
"…Fawkes," Albus called, and the Phoenix let out a shrill cry. "We'll be visiting an old friend, tonight, and it could turn ugly. Prepare yourself."
Severus Snape's POV
Friday 2nd July, 1994 (Taiga Forest – Late Evening)
"I've done all I can," Snape said icily, taking one more look at the sleeping Yahontov. "If the fever returns, apply the Fireseed Oil as I showed you. When he does awaken, make sure he eats. Ignore his complaints, force-feed him if you must." Three days wasted on this degenerate. I wonder if Draco's angry with me, seeing as I was supposed to take him shopping for a present for his friend.
"Thank you," Belova said, genuinely grateful for his timely aid. "I'll be sure to tell him of the man who saved his life." I doubt he'll care very much, given my past.
Snape turned on his heel and left the tent, marching down towards the central fire. Albus needs to know about Yahontov's state. Both physical and mental. He's a broken wretch. He's not fit to lead the Russian front. Artyom, Travers, and Chloros seemed to be waiting for him, the Ronin walking over to him before he reached them.
"Well? Is he going to live?" Travers asked, a sour look on her face.
"Yes," Snape answered, not breaking his stride.
"That's it?"
"What else do you need me to say?"
"Is he fit to fight?" Travers asked, scowling.
"Fit to fight?" Snape stopped, staring at her as if she were an idiot. "He almost died from withdrawal, you foolish girl. He won't be on his feet for weeks." I've never seen a case so severe. It is a testament to my skill that he's still breathing.
"Then, what are we supposed to do?" Travers demanded, not appreciating his tone. "I didn't travel all the way here just to sit on my hands."
"You three know the plan," Snape reminded her, looking to the other two. "Start with the weaker families, and work your way up. Kill every Death-Eater you find, even the sympathisers." He then looked around, noting that Abadie, Cromwell, and Solomon were missing. "Where are the others?"
"Solomon required aid in setting up supply routes," Artyom replied. "This place is far too remote for his contacts."
"Keep an eye on them," Snape ordered. "Especially the Half-Troll."
"You're leaving?" Travers asked.
"Until Yahontov can string a sentence together, I see no need to be in this accursed forest. Tell the Mrakogubci of the plan, and start organising the raids. We can't afford to wait for their leader." Travers gave a nod, visibly eager to get started. "Remember… No heroics. Start small, gather intel, set up a network of spies, and don't take any captives. Oh, and don't get spotted by the authorities." He reached into his pocket, using his prosthetic hand to pull out a Sickle. "This is a Portkey that will take you to Albus. Guard it with your lives. Use it only if there's an emergency. Otherwise, send me an owl."
Travers covered her hand and took the Sickle, hiding it away in her armour. "I will owl you once Yahontov is awake."
Snape gave a curt nod, walking past Artyom and Chloros. I need some sleep. Playing Healer was the last thing I expected when coming here.
Shortly After
"Can't you take him on Sunday?" Edward asked, though Snape knew the man's wife was the one doing the asking. "Andromeda and I want to take him to an amusement park, tomorrow. We've already bought the tickets."
"A Muggle amusement park?" Snape frowned.
"Is that a problem?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I dislike them," Snape drawled, not hiding his scorn for the Magicless apes. "What's next, Tonks? Are you going to start taking him to your church? Make a Christian out of him? How well did your own daughter take to your religion? Remind me, go on."
"…There's no need for that," Edward sighed out. "He deserves a bit of normalcy, Snape. He's just a boy, and he's lonely." Lonely? He has me, doesn't he?
"Do not put foolish notions into his head, you and your wife," Snape warned, raising his prosthetic finger. "He is safe, fed, and clothed. There isn't much more he needs than that."
"If you really believe that, then you don't deserve to take care of him," Edward frowned back, moving Snape's finger out of his face. "He doesn't talk, Snape… Not a damn word. He sits there with his nose buried in whatever book he gets his hands on, completely disconnected from the world around him. That's not healthy, not for someone his age."
"He enjoys reading-"
"As did I when I was his age, but I also had friends and family. I didn't use reading as an escape, to hide myself away from other people. Draco needs this, even if he doesn't understand why. Even if you don't."
"I've heard enough," Snape whispered icily. "Go and fetch him. Now."
Edward drew in a sharp breath, before shaking his head to himself. "…Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
The big-bellied wizard went up the stairway, leaving Snape alone to ponder the man's words. Lonely, he says… Lonely… Like I was growing up… I did warn Draco that I wouldn't be the perfect guardian, but I also promised to try and learn for his sake… It wasn't lost on him that Draco's childhood had been utterly uprooted, but how was a Muggle amusement park going to change that sorry fact? …It can't. Draco's hardships have only just begun. He will grow up in a war, one where he will be a target of the worst Death-Eaters. It's not fair, it's not even right, but it's his reality. No rollercoaster can fix such-…
"Godfather," came Draco's voice, he had descended the stairs with Edward and Andromeda. "You were gone longer than you let on."
"I know," Snape said, looking the boy over. New clothes. They've been playing 'dress the doll' with him. "Thank your hosts, then let's go home."
"Hosts?" Andromeda rolled her eyes. "We're not his hosts, Severus, we're his aunt and uncle. And he doesn't need to thank us. He only has to promise to visit, again."
Snape ignored the witch, heading towards the fireplace in order to prepare it.
"…Read the book I gave you…" Snape overheard Edward's voice amidst the goodbyes, bringing another frown to his sullen face. What book? If it's a Bible, I'm going to come back here and shove it down his throat.
Eventually, Draco joined his Godfather's side, his trunk in tow. Neither said a word as they passed through the green flames, returning to the brazenly altered living room of Snape's childhood home. …What is this? The room was no longer dimly-lit by a single hanging lamp, but rather, every corner was brightened by a floating, Never-Melting candle, and in place of the hanging lamp Snape was quite fond of, there was a new one, forged from silver and emitting a light bright enough to blind a person if they stared into it for too long. …Bapity… That damn Elf has been spending more of my money without my permission! Just as Snape was about to shout for the Elf to show himself, he noticed from the corner of his vision that Draco appeared pleased with the change, his usually tense posture relaxing as he looked around the room with renewed interest. …He likes this?
"Welcome home, Masters!" Bapity walked in from the adjoining kitchen, beaming excitedly. "Ah, young Master looks most handsome, today!"
Snape fought the urge to hurl his dirty boot at the Elf's grinning face, whereas Draco gave an awkward nod. "…Thanks…"
"Shall Bapity prepare tea? Or, perhaps, some freshly-squeezed juice?" the Elf asked, looking between the two.
"…Tea is fine," Snape grumbled, his eye squinting because of the excess of light.
"I'll be in my room," Draco said as soon as the Elf was gone, pulling at his trunk as he began to walk away, only to stop when Snape place his hand on the boy's shoulder. "…Godfather?"
"The book Tonks gave you," Snape whispered, staring down at the young wizard. "Show it to me."
Draco blinked, before giving a reluctant nod. He opened up his trunk, rifled through it, and pulled out a green, leather-bound tome, offering it to Snape. …What is this? 'The Most Famous Slytherins, And Their Most Ambitious Exploits'. I didn't know such a book existed. Why would Tonks give this to him?
"Is something wrong?" Draco asked, and Snape responded by giving the book back. …I never asked the boy if he wants to go to this amusement park, did I? I still don't believe it will help him in any meaningful way, but he could have fun there, couldn't he? Children like fun, even if it's just for the sake of-… "Godfather, did I do something wrong? Why are you staring at me like that? Should I not have accepted the book?"
"You've done nothing wrong," Snape confirmed, Tonks' mellow voice ringing in his ears. …Damn it all… "They wanted to take you to some amusement park-"
"Please, don't make me go," Draco interrupted, blanching.
Snape raised an eyebrow, despite feeling pleased and vindicated. "You're against it?"
"I don't want to be surrounded by Muggles… I don't know anything about them," Draco answered, sounding almost petulant. "Please, can't I just stay here?"
Snape smirked a little, giving a soft nod. "If that is what you want."
Draco let out a breath of relief, repacking his trunk. "Thank you, Sir."
Snape watched the boy leave in silence, still pondering Tonks' word despite not wanting to. …'Draco needs this, even if he doesn't understand why'… It's true that Draco is becoming reclusive, even I can see that, and being reclusive did no particular wonders for me. To be alone in this cruel world is a terrible burden, and I don't want that for him. I don't want him to turn out like I did, bitter and angry. Yet, I can't force him to change, can I? He clearly doesn't want to go some amusement park, it's not something he's likely to enjoy. What would he enjoy, then? Quidditch? He's always loved flying, ever since he was knee-high. I don't know anything about Quidditch, though. It is a barbaric sport, enjoyed only by dullards. What, then? Perhaps, Albus can offer me some-…
"Tea is prepared, Master Snape," Bapity interrupted his thoughts, placing his mother's old tea set on the table. "Shall Bapity bring cake, too?"
"Who gave you permission to… do all of this?" Snape asked, waving his hand about.
"Master Snape, of course." Liar.
"Did I, really?" Snape hissed, gnashing his teeth.
"Bapity was commanded to make this home comfortable for the young Master, which is what Bapity has done," the Elf calmly reminded the wizard. "There is more Bapity has planned, such as new coats of paint for these drab walls."
"…Paint?" Snap exhaled sharply. What sort of Elf did you recommend to me, Albus? Is this another one of your elaborate jokes?
"Master Snape may enjoy doom and gloom, but the young Master does not," Bapity answered. …He did appear pleased with the change of lighting, even if I don't understand why.
"Go prepare dinner," Snape said coldly, walking over to the tea set. "And, Bapity…"
"Yes, Master Snape?"
"No shades of red, or gold," Snape ordered, pouring himself a cup.
"Understood, Master Snape," the Elf bowed his head, before departing for the kitchen.
He took his cup and planted himself on one of the new armchairs, closing his eye. Damn these lights! They're still burning my retina through my eye-lid! Grumbling unintelligibly, he stood up and made his way into his lab, which, thankfully, remained untouched. The air was cool, to keep his ingredients fresh, and the faint glow from his ever-ready cauldrons provided him with a much-needed sense of respite. I wonder if Draco would enjoy helping me with my potions. He does enjoy my class, or, at the very least, he does well in it, and, in here, I could teach him some of my tricks which would put his peers to shame. Yes, this certainly beats the idea of him fumbling about a Muggle amusement park, surrounded by ignorant, mouth-breathing ingrates. It's decided, then. I will ask him during dinner.
Draco Malfoy's POV
Friday 2nd July, 1994 (Snape Abode – Dinner)
"Your stay with them was comfortable?" Snape broke the silence, and Draco looked up from his plate. He's acting strange. First, he asked me about the book, then he asked me if I wanted to go to that silly 'amusement park', and now this? What happened to 'I like silence during my meals'? "Draco, I asked you a question."
"Um… It was comfortable enough, Sir," Draco replied.
"Comfortable enough? Was something not to your liking?" Snape questioned.
"Aunt Andromeda and her husband can be a bit intense, and their daughter cares very little for decorum." She came home drunk the first night, burst into my room and held me like I was her teddy bear. She ranted about all sorts of things, until her mother dragged her to her bed.
"Ah, yes, Nymphadora," Snape frowned, sounding put off. "She was always an undignified, opinionated braggart." He taught her, as well, didn't he? Why am I not surprised that he dislikes her? He dislikes everyone.
"You misunderstand me, Godfather," Draco started. "She's um… I don't think she's well. In the head, I mean." The black-haired wizard waited for him to elaborate. "She told me to never grow up… Said that being a grown-up was painful, that it was too easy to get lost. Aunt Andromeda told me that she's been like that ever since the raid on Knockturn Alley. She took part in it, you know? She was still an Auror back then."
"Don't listen to her," Snape said icily. "Growing up might not always be easy, but it does have its perks." Like what? I doubt I'll be free to enjoy them, even when I'm grown. "I shall speak to her mother about-"
"Don't do that, please," Draco cut in, remembering Nymphadora's efforts to reunite him with his mother. "I didn't take her seriously. She was just… sad." And it felt good to comfort her, or rather, let her rant at me. It felt like repaying a debt.
Snape stared at him, making him feel as though he'd said something foolish once again. "…Do you want to help me in the lab, tomorrow?" Huh?! Where the fuck did that come from?! Draco didn't know what to say, was the offer genuine? "Well? It's a simple enough question, boy."
"You want my help in Potioneering?" Draco muttered. I thought I was forbidden from entering your secret laboratory.
"I could always use another pair of hands, and there is a great deal I can teach you," Snape said, his focused gaze making the younger wizard feel a little intimidated. "And you, in turn, can tell me about the books you've been reading." What?!
"Tell you about the books I've been reading?" Draco repeated. "Godfather… Are you unwell?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Snape narrowed his eye, making him straighten up in a panic.
"…Sorry-"
"If you do not wish to join me, you don't need to. It was merely an offer-"
"No, I'll join you," Draco agreed quickly, he'd been wanting to do something other than read.
Snape gave a curt nod, returning to his dinner. I don't know what's scarier… Him being his usual-self, or him trying to play parent… Maybe, I shouldn't have been so quick to agree to this…
Alastor Moody's POV
Friday 2nd July, 1994 (Alastor Moody's Home – Night)
He limped down the steps with his wand at the ready, someone had gotten past all his Wards and traps without raising a single alarm, they'd even discovered the secret entrance that led down into the cellar that Alastor had transformed, over several years, into a bunker capable of withstanding Fiendfyre itself. It can't be Weasley, can it? If it is, then that little bastard is a lot more capable than I realised. As he descended a little further, he found the intruder sitting in the centre of the bunker, sipping smugly from a teacup. Bloody hell! What are you doing here?!
"…Albus," Alastor growled, putting his wand away. "Have you lost your mind? Hiding your Magical Signature from me after breaking into my house?"
"Your Magical Eye doesn't work down here?" Albus asked, causing the Head-Auror to mentally chastise himself. "I must say, my friend, that this room is a marvel! You could almost call it a different dimension, given how removed from the outside world it is! Did you build this all by your lonesome?!"
"I had plenty of time to spare after the war," Alastor grumbled, limping over and towering over the old wizard. "What are you doing here? How did you get past my protections?" Albus merely smiled in response, as if he'd said something idiotic. "…Your arrogance has never been very flattering."
"I cannot disagree with you there," Albus chuckled, offering his cup to Fawkes, who, from atop his shoulder, pecked at the contents within. "Tea, Alastor? I brewed it myself."
"I want to know why you're here," the one-eyed wizard demanded, his scarred face pinching in anger.
"I wanted to show you how it feels," Albus explained, losing his mirth. "To have your privacy breached, to have your secrets unearthed."
"…Weasley sent you," Alastor realised, scoffing. "He went running to you, did he? I expected him to have more bollocks than this."
"This bunker, marvellous as it is, would not keep him out for long," Albus promised, his tone so grave that even Alastor was forced to take him seriously. …It's not like him to overestimate people, which can only mean that Weasley is powerful enough to warrant his respect. That's not good. "What were you thinking, Alastor? Speak to me, please. I want to understand why you'd do what you did."
"I investigate murderers, remember?" Alastor grumbled, putting his staff away and taking a seat across from his old friend. "You thought I'd just walk away from that creepy little shit? Without doing my due diligence?" He then shook his head, unable to mask his disgust. "…He's a monster, Albus. One of the worst I've ever come across."
"For some, yes, he is the stuff of nightmares, but for many more, he is hope, an oasis in a desolate world."
"Don't give me that tripe!" Alastor punched the table, causing Fawkes to shriek a warning. Shut up, bird! This doesn't involve you! "Hope?! Have you lost your mind?! Do you even know what I found in his lair?!"
"His chests full of names," Albus gave a gentle nod. …What?
"…You know about them?" Alastor blinked, before his outrage came back with a vengeance. "You knew?! This entire time?! What the fuck, Albus?! What the actual fuck?! You're that involved with his killings?!" This can't be! Why would you ignore such a deviant?! Such a threat?! Why would you help him?! For his visions?! You're that desperate to defeat the Dark Lord that you'd sacrifice your soul?!
"The names in those chests belong to the most dangerous people in Magical Europe, the absolute worst of humanity," Albus reminded him. "Murderers, rapists, Blood-Supremacists… People who prey upon children, Alastor, who gorge themselves on depravity and violence. You misunderstand Ronald, because you do not have the answers you believe you do."
"Oh, I know everything I need to know… I know degenerates when I see them, and that boy you're defending is most definitely a degenerate. He's killed over thirty people, Albus! And he hasn't even finished puberty! How many more will he kill before you realise that you're in over your head?!"
"In over my head? Alastor… Have you lost faith in me entirely?"
"You're not exactly helping your case, lately," Alastor countered, and the former Chief Warlock exhaled tiredly. "You're a wise man, Albus, I'm not going to refute that. You've proven your wisdom time and time again, but, at the end of the day, you're a teacher. A headmaster. You haven't stared into evil as I have. You haven't faced Dark Wizards as often as I have. I've seen man-made horrors that would curdle even your blood. So, in this particular subject, I trust my own instincts over yours, and my instincts are telling me to stop Weasley. He is going to become a problem for us all, including you. I just know it."
"Because he has shed blood so young-"
"He's shed rivers of it! Why are you defending him?! He's an important piece in the war against You-Know-Who?! Not too long ago, you'd be helping me stop this boy! What's changed?!"
"I have, because I've learnt truths that can't be unlearned," Albus answered, his voice almost-pleading. "Truths that I dread to share with others."
"What truths?" Alastor asked, leaning forward. "Some visions from a peculiar Seer did this to you? I don't believe that! When did Albus Dumbledore start protecting killers?! Tell me!"
"I protected you-"
"Don't you dare try that on me," Alastor hissed, furious at the gall. "I kill when I have no other option, and always in the line of duty! You think I didn't want revenge for my dead friends after the war?! You think I didn't lose sleep over the corpses of countless mothers and their children?! I did! Every damn night, I twisted and turned on my bed, begging the Gods to help me forget everything I'd seen! Begging them to punish those responsible! But you know what I didn't do? I didn't start murdering those I deemed wretched and corrupt! I didn't go out there and butcher those I saw as my enemies! I walked away, because my war was over! I wanted nothing more than for it to keep going, but it was over, and I did the right thing even though it was next to impossible! Do you think his war will ever be over?! Do you think he'll just stop because all the names in his chest are dead and buried?! No, Albus… No… He won't stop, because he enjoys killing. He's grown a hunger for it, and that hunger will never be sated. He keeps-… He fucking keeps trophies, Albus… You want someone like that walking around with the rest of us? Pretending to be a human being, when in truth, he's just as monstrous as those he hunts down? What happens to us when they're all gone? Are you going to protect us from him?" Albus remained silent for many moments, his gaze unblinking. "Well? Don't you have anything to say to that?"
"I will not deny that you've touched upon some of my fears regarding Ronald," the old man started, nodding to himself. "He terrifies me, because I have seen him do things that defy explanation. His will is… unbreakable. In his shoes, I would be left shattered and immoral. Truly. I would serve only myself, empower only myself, just so I could survive. It is a testament to his strength that his compassion still exists, and that it often rules his heart-"
"Compassion?!"
"Yes, compassion, for all those who have never known it," Albus continued, bringing a sceptical scowl to Alastor's face. "Wherever he sees injustice, he acts to stop it. Perhaps, it is his childish naivety that compels him, but I've come to believe that it's simply his nature. You say that his war will never end? I believe you, for his war is against injustice, and there will always be injustice in this world. He will never stop helping those who are in need of it, his very nature will not allow it."
"Where was this compassion during the Carrow Twin Massacre?" Alastor asked scathingly.
"While his forces brought down those responsible, Ronald himself found his way to the dungeons. That's near where you found Amycus, didn't you?" Alastor blinked, surprised that he'd overlooked such a detail. "In the heat of battle, his instincts led him to those victims. He saved each and every one of them, when all hope was lost. That's who Ronald Weasley really is. Hope. For those who can't find it on their own. He has a great many flaws, I know this to be true, but he's not the rabid animal you wish to paint him as. I am terrified of him, because he's shown me that I didn't do enough in my long life to fight injustice. I am terrified of him, because he's the great man people far-too-often think I am. I am terrified of him, because I don't want to live in a world where he loses his compassion." Alastor studied his old friend's face closely, realising that the old man was speaking from the heart for a change. "Fawkes believes in him, Alastor. You might not trust my instincts, anymore, but you can always trust his." Fawkes shrieked at that, flapping his majestic wings. "We're old men, Alastor, and as you said, we've seen the horrors men are capable of. We've become cynics, always looking out for the worst. It's why we've outlasted so many of our friends and kin. However, we don't have all the answers we think we do, and that's not an opinion, it's a fact. I came here prepared to show you the truth behind Ronald's existence, but I'm not going to do that, because I know what sort of man you are. Good, righteous, and eager to sacrifice for the good of others. But I also know that you can be reckless, distrustful, and quick to judge. You and he are very much alike, the only difference is that Ronald never asked to be a soldier. He didn't have that luxury, and for that alone, I will always seek to protect him."
Albus then stood up, staring down at Alastor with a sorry smile. "…I will not abandon him. Never. And I will protect him, even from you. You, who've robbed the poor boy of what little peace he'd found in such a long time, and cast him back into the darkness. I will never forgive you for that. Leave him to his work, Alastor, or start preparing your Aurors to face me in battle." Fawkes exploded into flames, causing Alastor to shield his good eye, and even as the Grand Sorcerer became nothing more than smoke, his commanding voice remained behind to echo in his wake. "Ronald is under my protection, do not test my resolve."
Saturday 3rd July, 1994 (The Werewolf Sanctuary – Early Morning)
He stepped into the mess hall, his Magical Eye scanning hundreds of faces in search of Weasley's, lingering, however, on the dozens of small children with scarred faces. A sanctuary for Werewolves. I never thought I'd see such a thing in my life, but here it is. Albus' words had been harsh, full of paternal fury, but none were easily dismissed. Merlin, he hated doubting himself, questioning what he saw with his own eyes, but he also knew that he was overzealous in his work, to the point of fixating on the wrongs and ignoring the rights. It's one of the main reasons why he'd handed in his Auror Badge at the end of the Great War. What if is this was one of those instances? What if he was jeopardising the brewing war by going against the wisest man he knew? What if becoming an Auror again was skewing his judgement? …In war, you have to kill your enemies. Understanding that saved my life countless times. Perhaps, Weasley understands this too, but because he's so young, so clearly damaged, he can't control his own instincts? Albus said that the boy was fighting this war since he was eight, and even for me, that's unimaginable. Counting all my many regrets, my childhood has never been one of them.
As he watched the Werewolves eat their breakfasts, chatting away without a care in the world, he was approached by Weasley's personal, green-haired body-guard. "What is the Head-Auror doing here first thing in the morning?" Her eyes darted towards the blue suit hanging on his arm, and immediately, she looked murderous. "…It was you, wasn't it?"
"Where is he?" Alastor asked, and when she reached for the suit, he pulled it away and raised his staff to her face. "Don't."
"You think I'm afraid of dying?" the witch laughed, raising her chin and showing a terrible scar that ran across her entire throat. "I died a long time ago, Auror. Do your worst, but I'm taking that back. It doesn't belong to you." Mad bitch.
Alastor frowned darkly, before offering the suit to her, which she speedily snatched. "Where is he?"
"Gone, because of you," she replied, disdain lacing her every word. "What is wrong with you Ministry bastards, huh? You hate him that much for doing your jobs for you?" Spare me. It's not his charitable acts that I have a problem with, it's everything else.
"Where is he?" Alastor repeated, much to her chagrin. "And where are the rest of his mercenaries? I thought he'd hired an army of you lot to protect this place. I see only half-a-dozen." Are the rest with him? Holed up in some dark corner of Magical Britain? Is he planning another attack on the Purebloods?
"Unless you're here on official business, I suggest you leave. You see, there's a lot of upset people here who are wondering what happened to the boss, and, already, a lot of them probably suspect you, given that you've shown up right after he vanished."
Alastor's Magical Eye swirled about, and he found that she was right, as he was now being observed by many within the mess hall. One of those Werewolves, an older man with thinning, white hair, was already walking over to the pair, his thick brow furrowed.
"London, is something wrong?" the old wolf asked, keeping his eyes on Alastor. "You're the Head-Auror, aren't you? The famous Alastor Moody?" Infamous is the more apt word. "Why are you here? Is this about Ronald?"
"He was just leaving, Thaddeus," London spoke before he could, contemptuous. "Weren't you, Head-Auror?"
"Where is the boy?" Alastor asked Thaddeus, turning his attention away from the foolishly aggressive witch.
Thaddeus sniffed the air, his eyes moving towards the suit in London's grasp. "…He is not here, and I have no earthly idea where he has gone. Even if I did, I would not tell you. You are not welcome here. Please, leave." I'm getting nowhere with this. Best I leave before they all descend on me with knives and forks.
"If either of you see him, tell him I need to speak to him," Alastor turned to leave, limping away. "It's urgent." He's quick to act, I'll give him that, and he's smart enough to abandon an insecure location, too. Well played, boy, well played. Indulgence in sentiment can get even the strongest soldier killed.
Ronald Weasley's POV
Saturday 3rd July, 1994 (Dream Hogwarts – Midday)
He gazed into the Slytherin Hourglass, blankly watching the turmoil of the spirits trapped within. They, in form of a black sludge, swirled and writhed, their deformed, pained faces occasionally pressing against the glass. To think they tried to rob me of my Cycle not so long ago.
"Just hold on for a little longer," Ron whispered, pressing his forehead against the glass. "I'll find a way to free you lot. I'll find a way to free all of us."
He backed away, turning on his heel and walking out into the courtyard. Ravenclaw Ron was waiting by the Entity's Hourglass, whereas the Old One itself was bubbling in a tar-like puddle at the bottom of it. Ron stopped only a few feet away from the hourglass, planting himself on his arse and crossing his legs. Time to return to the Chamber, I think.
"You will fail, Champion, as you always do" the Entity goaded, slithering against the glass, as if trying to reach out for him. "We will claim you, just as We have claimed the others."
"You want me, bitch?" Ron smirked, his eyes burning with hatred for the foul thing. "Earn me."
With that, he closed his eyes and focused his mind, putting up the necessary shields as he undid his meditative state out in the real world. When he reopened his eyes, he was sitting atop his bed in the Chamber, with his ghostly counterpart standing at the foot of his bed. My Occlumency training is really coming together, now. I'm getting better every single day.
"You once mentioned that the Cycles started thousands of years ago, right?" Ron asked, and his past-self gave an enthusiastic nod. "…Poor sods." If I don't win, that's exactly how I'll turn out. Trapped for eons upon eons with the Entity for a roommate. Merlin fucking help me, the mere thought of that is terrifying.
"Umbra Cordis?" Ravenclaw Ron asked, grinning.
"Yeah, sounds good." I have to admit, being down here means training constantly just to pass the time, and that's not such a bad thing. Plus, it's nice and quiet, too.
Saturday 3rd July, 1994 (The Chamber of Secrets – Late Afternoon)
"You made good progress, today," Ravenclaw Ron commended, while Ron lay panting on his bed. "Did you hear me? I was being nice to you."
"…Cheers…" the Slytherin groaned, his hands aching terribly. "It's normal for my hands to hurt, right?"
"You concentrated a lot of Magic in them, so yeah."
"Wish I had some ice."
"Just summon the Elf, he'll get some for you."
"He's out there buying what we need to survive down here," Ron sighed out, sitting up. "We don't even have a tub to bathe in, for Merlin's sake."
"You could always sneak up to the Prefect's Bathroom," Ravenclaw Ron suggested, shrugging. "Dumbledore won't stop you."
"I hear Moaning Myrtle watches them bathe quite regularly," Ron grimaced. "I don't want to be perved on by a ghost."
"Use the girls' one, then."
"What? I can't do that!" Ron pulled a scandalised face. "Do you have any respect in you? For anyone?"
"Can I count myself?" Ravenclaw Ron asked genuinely.
"…No."
"Then, no, I don't give a fuck."
"…Right."
"You know I perv on you whenever you lose your boxers, so Myrtle won't be so bad."
"Motherfucker, I hope that was a joke, for both our sakes," Ron frowned, shuddering. "I know I'm beautiful, but no means no."
They both stared at each other, before sniggering like idiots. Marty cracked into the Chamber just as they finished, his bare feet skidding about on the damp surface. Careful!
"This floor!" Marty squeaked, glaring down at it. "Marty will enjoy undoing it's disgustingness!" Hehe, he almost fell over.
"How did it go, mate?" Ron shot out of his bed, walking over to the Elf. "Any trouble?"
"None, Master," Marty reported. "Chivvy was happy to hear that Master has need for more renovations."
"How soon can he come over?" I need a bath. Badly.
"This very evening," Marty beamed. "Master left a very good impression." I did? He's the one who did all the heavy-lifting, I just paid him.
"Good work, mate," Ron smiled, causing Marty's large ears to perk up. "Any messages for me?"
"Three, Master," the Elf reached into his pillowcase robes, pulling out a pair of letters. "The first is from Gornuk, it seems most urgent. And the other…" he paused, pursing his lips. "Marty was approached by a stranger just as Marty exited the Quibbler building. A tall man with a scarred chin. This stranger knew Marty, Master, and-"
"He knew you?"
"Yes," the Elf gave a slow nod, passing the letters on. "Marty checked for any Curses, any Magic, but the letter was clean."
Ron opened it promptly, his eyebrows raised.
Red,
Come have a beer.
Lucy
"Well, well," Ron whispered under his breath, pocketing Bellator's letter.
"Who sent it, Master?"
"Chief Lucia Bellator," Ron answered, much to the Elf's displeasure. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'll be careful, I promise. Plus, I have a feeling she wants to… give thanks to me." She must've reached out to Reyes, who must've confirmed my story, after tearing her a new one. At least, I hope he did, but we'll see soon enough.
He opened the Gornuk's letter, noting that the ink was of exceptional quality.
Mr. Weasley,
I must speak with you about a matter regarding the Quibbler, it is of the utmost importance. It involves Mr. Lovegood, who I know is a family friend, and his continuous assault on our fine reputation.
Gornuk
Ron put the letter away with a curious expression, what had Xenophilius done this time? Knowing him, probably something incredibly stupid. Brilliant… Just what I need right now. More drama.
"You said there were three messages?"
"London called Marty-"
"Argenope?!" At last!
"No, Master… Alastor Moody wishes for an audience." Moody? Fuck… What does he want from me, now? What did the old man tell him, exactly? He never called for me, in the end, so I can safely assume he handled it without revealing the truth. Guess I'll find out when I get around to it. One life-threatening situation at a time.
Shortly After
Ron knocked on Gornuk's door, entering before there was an answer. "You wanted to see me?"
"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Gornuk smiled his signature sharp-toothed smile, looking more like a bejewelled shark rather than a Goblin. A new necklace, and new earrings too. "Good of you to come so quickly. Please, take a seat."
"You've been shopping, again," the redhead smirked, taking a seat.
"One must display their wealth in Goblin culture, their success," Gornuk laughed, he was always in a happy mood as of late. I wonder why. "I am the envy of all my friends!"
"Just be careful they don't stab you out of envy," Ron chuckled. "Now, what's Xenophilius done? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two don't get along as it is."
"It is he who doesn't get along, I assure you." Really? "…Mr. Weasley, I will not mince words, not with you. You have been generous to me, and I, in turn, have been most loyal to you. I believe we work well together, don't we, Mr. Weasley?"
"I'd say so, yes."
"And for us to continue doing so-"
"Just get to the point, mate."
"Right," Gornuk drew in a sharp breath, shifting in his spot. Well?! What is it? "I believe it is past time we let Mr. Lovegood move onto greener pastures."
"You want to kill him?"
"What?! No! Of course-!"
"I'm pulling your leg," Ron grinned, shaking his head to himself. I like how nervous he is around me. "Why do you want to fire the man? What did he do?"
"He is hurting this enterprise," Gornuk answered bluntly, reaching into his desk and pulling out a copy of Xenophilius' most recent submission. "Take a look, Mr. Weasley, and judge for yourself."
"Proof Found: Rufus Scrimgeour Alive and Feeding on the Innocent Folk of…" Ron trailed off, pinching his eyes. "…What the fuck? This is a joke, right?"
"Yet another chapter in Mr. Lovegood's ongoing investigation into the 'Auror Vampire'," Gornuk ground his teeth, making a strange clicking noise. "If this is published, Mr. Weasley, then you can say goodbye to the deal you so carefully put together with the Minister. They were childhood friends, and rumour has it that she still mourns his death deeply."
"I swear, that cunt was born sideways," Ron tossed the parchment onto the table, frowning.
"Rufus Scrimgeour?"
"Xenophilius, obviously! This is not getting published!" Bones already hates me! After this, she'll put a bounty out on my bollocks!
"My thoughts exactly," Gornuk sounded rather relieved.
"I won't fire him, though," Ron added.
"Mr. Weasley-"
"He and I made a deal, okay?" I could break that deal quite easily, if I wanted to, but Pandora… I don't want her to have a useless husband. "I'll talk to him. I'll get him to see reason, somehow."
"It's not just the absurdness of his work, though, Mr. Weasley, which, as it so happens, damages our credibility with each publication. It's his attitude, as well. He is argumentative, constantly questioning, and belittling, the worth of the stories the other reporters bring in, especially Miss. Thornburg's stories."
"Greta's stories? She's the hardest working person in this building."
"I quite agree," Gornuk gave a nod. "Not only is she handling the entire Ministry workload, but she has also gone to great lengths to edit the work of her peers. She is here day and night, and yet, Mr. Lovegood has the audacity to question her priorities when it comes to journalism. It is creating a rift in this workplace, Mr. Weasley, one that will end with Mr. Lovegood being stabbed with a letter opener." Fuck me in the fuck!
"All right, this is what we'll do…" Ron drew in several deep breaths, centring himself. "Firstly, give Greta a raise of a hundred Galleons on her annual salary. She's more than earned it. Secondly, keep looking into hiring a Chief Editor that's worth a damn."
"Mr. Weas-"
"I know it's not easy, and I know you don't want to go foreign, either," Ron continued. "Just-… You know what? Sneak a letter to Barnabas Cuffe. Tell him I want to meet." He's been in the business for decades, and I know for a fact that he isn't happy at the Daily Prophet.
"Barnabas Cuffe? The Daily Prophet will not be-"
"They can suck the shit out of my stink star, that's what they can do," Ron blurted out in a frustrated tone, much to Gornuk's horror and disgust. "The man was trying to buy the Quibbler to undermine the Prophet, remember? Get me in a room with him, and I'll win him over. The Daily Prophet can bitch and moan all it likes, I don't care." He then stood up, fixing his suit into place. "Now, I'm going to go talk to Xenophilius. Is he in?"
"He is, yes," Gornuk replied, already jotting down the notes of the meeting. "…Family is important, Mr. Weasley, but it has no place in business. That is the last thing I will say on this matter."
With a sigh, Ron left the Goblin's office, managing to get halfway to Xenophilius' office before he was ambushed by Marietta Angel and Jack Smith.
"Boss!" Marietta ran over, beaming. "What are you doing here?!"
"Attending to some business," Ron answered, smiling fondly at the usually-nervous witch. "I enjoyed your story on the rise of Inter-Blood marriages in Magical Japan."
"And I enjoyed a paid trip to Japan," she laughed, before suddenly going wide-eyed. "I mean, I mostly worked! I swear! I did see some attractions, but even then, I was doing research!" …Okay, then…
"Calm down, would you?" Jack laughed, exchanging a knowing look with Ron. "Any of my stories catch your eye, Mr. Weasley?"
"Not particularly," Ron answered honestly.
"…Oh…"
"Don't get me wrong, they're important, and they've secured your job, but try adding some… passion… into your work," Ron advised. "Marietta here can turn anything into a sob-fest, for example. Why? Because she herself is a sob-fest. Take some notes."
With that, Ron walked away with a satisfied grin, which only grew wider when Marietta yelled after him. "You're a very mean person!" I know!
He knocked on Xenophilius' door, waiting for an answer, but when it never arrived, he entered reluctantly. "Xenophilius, are you in here?" Ugh! What is that smell?!
The office was a mess comprising of scattered parchments, forgotten meals, and there wasn't a single bit of any wall that wasn't covered in notes and photographs. It's like a hermit's cave! The eccentric wizard was standing behind his desk, pouring over his notes like a man in distress, his candyfloss hair a complete mess and his eyes bloodshot. …Fuck me. Look at the state of him.
"Xenophilius!" Ron called out, making the man jump and hold a hand out to his heart.
"By the Hallows, Ron! You frightened me!" Xenophilius muttered, taking in several harsh breaths. "…What are you doing here?"
"The better questions is… What are you doing?" Ron asked, looking about the poorly-treated office. "This place is a mess! And what the hell is that smell?! Did you shit in here?!" He doesn't let the cleaners come in here, does he?
"Of course not, that would be madness," Xenophilius blinked, confused.
"And what do you call this, exactly?" Ron countered, gesturing at his bizarre appearance.
"This? This is the look of victory, Ron!" the older wizard grinned, grabbing a photograph from his desk and rushing over. "Look! Here! Look! Tell me what you see?!"
Ron took the photograph, having himself a gander. …Odd. "That's-…"
"Scrimgeour! He's still alive! I was right!" Xenophilius clapped his hands, doing a little jig to boot. "It was taken last week by one of my regular readers!" You have regular readers? "Just outside Ombersley! Tell me that it isn't him! Actually, don't, because I know it is! I finally got him!"
Ron studied the photograph more keenly, even squinting his eyes. It was taken by an amateur, the quality was less than pathetic and the lighting was utterly fucked, and yet, the man in the photo had just enough of a resemblance to the former Head-Auror that it could fool some people into thinking he was still alive. But he's not, because they dragged his body out of Knockturn Alley and gave it an Auror's Funeral. The man died saving innocent people, and that's not something you can ignore.
"…Xenophilius, I don't think it's him," Ron eventually said, much to the man's shock. "I mean, Scrimgeour was a Legacy, remember? His eyes were distinctly yellow, and this man-"
"Well, you can't really see them, because of the shadows and all, but look at the hair! And the jaw! And the robes too!" The robes? "Scrimgeour always dressed to protect himself from the sun! As you said, very distinct! It's him! I know it!"
"The sun? Vampires don't care about sunlight, that's just a silly legend."
"That's what they want us to think, Ron!"
"Why would they do that?" We've studied them, you maniac.
"They want to appear stronger than they are! Invincible, even! It's all part of a grander conspiracy, but I won't get into that right now! Please, look at the picture, again! Keep an open mind!" An open mind? I'm trying to sell the truth here. The truth is the truth, it doesn't need a nudge from me to become real.
Ron, despite his growing ire, looked at the photograph, again, before shaking his head. "It's not him, all right? The man is dead, Xenophilius, and you need to stop this."
"…Stop what?" he blinked, his excitement slowly wilting away.
"All these articles on Scrimgeour being a Vampire… It's disrespectful to his memory, it is. The man gave his life in the line of duty not so long ago, and before that, he was a bloody war hero. I saw the piece you submitted for next week's publication… I'm sorry, but we can't put something like that out there."
"You're… censoring me?" Xenophilius took a step back, sounding like a puppy that had just been kicked. Don't give me that, all right?
"I'm stopping you from tarnishing a good man's memory," Ron said, trying his hardest to sound reasonable and gentle. "And, full disclosure, your submission could undo the deal this publication has struck with the Ministry."
"The Quibbler is meant to be anti-Ministry, though! It's meant to show people the truths that the conniving Ministry tries to hide from them!" What truths? That the damn Nargles are real? C'mon…
Ron stared at the man, before massaging his forehead. "The Quibbler, under me, is meant to report the truth, and that's exactly what it's been doing. The new Minister… She wants transparency with the people, and so, we're working with the Ministry rather than against them. And, no, we're not their puppets, okay? We report what we see, good and bad, without personal bias. Greta's been working-"
"That woman doesn't understand the first thing about journalism, Ron," Xenophilius cut in, looking more and more troubled. "She's all numbers and-… And facts! Her facts, of course! She has no imagination, no understanding of the deeper truths at work! How is she supposed to report the truth if she's not willing to keep an open mind?! She can't!" He walked back to his desk, leaning over it with his shoulders slumped. "…She has no respect for my work, nor the work of anyone who sees what she can't. I'd never have hired her in your shoes."
Ron let out long sigh, he was dealing with an infant. …An infant… "Xenophilius, when was the last time you got some proper sleep?"
"…What?" the man looked back, and his baggy, bloodshot eyes helped Ron realise what was really going on. He's exhausted, isn't he?
"Is Lysander sick?" the redhead inquired.
"He has a persistent cough, yes," Xenophilius nodded with a sorry expression. "Poor boy… I wanted to take him to a Healer right away, but Pandora says that it's natural for babies to get sick, and that meddling at his age could be bad for his immunity in the long term."
"You need to get some rest, all right?" Ron walked over. "You're not thinking very clearly, and it's making your obsession with Scrimgeour run wild. I know you want to believe that he's alive out there, draining innocent people, but he's dead. He died, and they buried his-"
"But what if he isn't?" Xenophilius asked desperately, leaning against the desk. "I can't ignore that possibility, can I?"
"When you handed the Quibbler over to me, I promised you that I'd let you have your own section, and I've kept my word," Ron reminded him. "But you're hurting this business right now, and with this Scrimgeour story, you'll cripple us. Worse than that, you'll genuinely get me into a lot of trouble." My leverage will be dead and gone, and then I'll have the entire Ministry up my arse.
"Get you into trouble? How?"
"Bones loved him as a brother, they practically grew up together. She's still grieving his loss, and you want to spit on everything he stood for with my magazine. Who do you think she'll take her anger out on? You? No, Xenophilius… I'll pay the price if you're wrong." I say 'If', but you're definitely wrong. "Please, write another story. Your articles on rare Magical Creatures are always a huge success with children. Do one of those, instead."
"You're asking me as my boss, aren't you?" Xenophilius mumbled, crestfallen.
"Yes, but also as someone who's always looked out for your family. Don't hurt me and my business chasing after a conspiracy which degrades a hero's legacy. It's not an unreasonable request, is it?"
Xenophilius stared down at his feet, looking properly discouraged. "…No, I suppose, it isn't. And I don't want to get you into any more trouble with the Ministry. I'll um… I'll write something else…"
Ron breathed a sigh of relief, giving an appreciative nod. "Go home and get some sleep, please. And when you come back, clean this place up. I doubt the smell helps you, or anyone, with their work." With that, he headed for the door, stopping just before exiting. "Thank you, Xenophilius."
"You don't call me Xeno, anymore," the man pointed out, and Ron looked back curiously. "…You're still angry with me for shouting at you, aren't you? For calling you a monster?" Honestly, it's mostly because we're not all that close, anymore. I don't think even about you, not unless I have to.
Deciding to keep his thoughts to himself, Ron simply left the office, making sure to close the door so the smell wouldn't escape. Now, I definitely need a bath.
Saturday 3rd July, 1994 (Bellator's Apartment – Late Evening)
The door swung open and revealed Bellator, wearing a friendly smile and an apron. "My message got to you, I see."
"Have I come at a bad time?" Ron asked, it was strange seeing her dressed in simple a t-shirt and jeans. Not to mention the stained apron.
"No, perfect timin'!" Bellator gestured him to come inside, which he warily did. Something smells amazing. What's she making? "Are you hungry?" Yes.
"Not really, no," Ron delved further into the apartment, his eyes darting from corner to corner. I don't Sense anyone here, either. It's just us, then.
"I'm makin' Ceviche," Bellator told him, returning to the kitchen counter. "My favourite dish from my birth country. I only ever make it as a celebration."
"What are you celebrating?" Ron asked, turning to face her.
She looked up from her work, smiling, again. "I spoke to Wilkinson, Red, and he confirmed your story. You really saved the States, like some fuckin' hero out of the stories." What kind of stories are you reading? I got mind-raped, as did my friends. "It's fuckin' crazy to even think about, but the old man wasn't lyin'. No wonder the bosses are both so gung-ho about you. I get it, now. You're somethin' out a fuckin' legend, you are."
"…Right," Ron drawled, staring at her blankly. "Well, I'm glad you're finally on the team, it'll make my life a little easier." Something out of a legend? More like something out of a nightmare.
"You can handle a bit of spice, yeah?" Bellator asked, cutting into a red chilli pepper.
"I told you that I'm not-"
"Yeah, you are," Bellator interrupted. "I saw your nose twitchin' the moment you entered. I promise, I'm not tryin' to poison you. That's not my style."
"No, you prefer to beat brain-damaged children over the head, instead," Ron said darkly, causing her to stop her knifework.
"…About that…" she looked up, now wearing a serious expression. "I'm sorry, Red. For everythin'. We got off on the wrong foot, all of us. You humiliated my Aurors, attacked a national treasure, Brightbeak, and I set up that ambush that could've done you in for good. Bad business, all around." She returned to cutting, clearing her throat. "No point in stayin' stuck in the past. We're on the same side, now." …She's right. They'll have to answer for killing those Pureblood children, eventually, but for now, I have need of them. "Hey, you want a Butterbeer? I got a pack just for you."
"Is it laced with spirits?" Ron asked, and she shot him a quizzical look in response. "…Never mind. I'll have one, sure."
She opened up her fridge, grabbing herself a Muggle beer and him a Butterbeer. "To startin' over." To me gutting you some day.
The bottle was ice-cold, and just as Ron raised it near his lips, he froze. Don't be an idiot! He lowered the bottle and stared at her, eventually offering it back to her. I wasn't born yesterday, lady.
"Has anyone told you that you're a bit paranoid?" Bellator laughed, in spite of his mistrust, taking a sip to prove that the beverage wasn't tampered with. "Now, go make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'll be done in here in a jiffy."
Shortly After
"So, you're gonna fight this Argenope, then convince her to take in the children?" Bellator summarised, whistling. "Damn, Red, you live an excitin' life, don't you?"
"Too exciting, perhaps," Ron shrugged, finishing up his third bottle. The food was delicious, but far too spicy. "Chances are that I'll have to kill her, though. Centaurs aren't exactly known for listening to outsiders."
"They're a stubborn bunch, no doubt about that."
"You Americans found a way to make peace with-"
Bellator threw her head back and laughed, stopping him short. "Peace? We gave them everythin' they asked for, and they still act like we eat their babies. I don't know about the Centaurs here, but the ones back in the States are arrogant, unfriendly, and downright delusional." So, not that different from the Centaurs here. Brilliant. "I wouldn't say we made peace with them. We just found a way to get them to shut up about the past. They live their lives, and we live ours. The further apart the better."
"You don't believe we could all co-exist, someday?" Ron asked. "Live side-by-side?"
"Someday, I hope we can, but it won't happen anytime soon," Bellator answered, as if she were breaking bad news to him. "They're uncivilised, Red, and they're proud of it. I mean, just look at this Argenope… You're out there savin' Centaur children, bustin' your ass, and she wants to put them down? Because they accepted help from a wizard?"
"A wizard destroyed her people, remember?" She has no reason to trust me, but she has ample reason to hate my kind.
"Even if a wizard hadn't been behind their misfortune, she'd make the same choice," Bellator told him. "You know what happened to the Chiefs who negotiated peace with the Congress? They were all trampled to death by their respective Tribes." …What? "That's right. Makin' peace was their final act, because Centaur 'Honour' demanded they die right after. They don't believe in co-existin' with outsiders, with those who walk on two legs. The mere idea is heresy to them."
"Most of them feel this way?" Ron frowned. Are Zotair and Firenze truly such anomalies amongst their people?
"You think they only hate Wizardin'-Kind? Goblins, Elves, Giants, even the fish people… Centaurs have no love for any of us, it's why they've never bothered to assimilate into our shared society." She took a long sip from her bottle, leaning back in her chair. "The sad truth is that none of us are innocent. Wizards have shed oceans of blood, but they've lost oceans of it too. The wizards who originally discovered wands did so to protect themselves from a very dangerous world."
"I heard they made that discovery to empower themselves, to become masters of the world."
"Some of them thought that way, I'm sure, but many were just protectin' themselves and their families. It was Centaurs who chased them into the arms of the Fae, you know that, right? They hunted us for sport, and the other Magical species did the same. Now, they all complain that we became strong and avenged ourselves? They're upset they lost wars that they started? Give me a fuckin' break, please. The world isn't a kind place, never has been, but most of us are tryin' to make a go of it together, now. It's not perfect co-existence, but we're tryin', nonetheless. What are the Centaurs doin'? Roamin' the world aimlessly, cursin' everyone and anyone for their own failures. They fought, they lost, but they didn't have the grace to lose with dignity." I never thought of it that way. It's an interesting perspective, for sure. When they were strong, they were merciless, and now, we're the strong ones, and we're just as merciless. A cycle of violence as old as both our peoples. What a discouraging thought, eh? "Do what you gotta do, Red, but don't let your guard down. You make a mistake with these Centaurs, and they'll put an arrow in your back."
Ron gave an understanding nod, because he'd seen the looks the very Centaurs he was trying to save shot him whenever he passed by. They despise me, and they'd rather die than be indebted to me. Hell, even Firenze never told his Tribe he saved my life because he didn't want them to kill him.
"…A slim chance at peace is better than certain annihilation," Ron sighed out, lowering his gaze. "None of us are innocent, as you said, but that's no reason to lose hope. That's no reason to give in to savagery. The past is written, but the future isn't. We have to keep trying, no matter how many times we fail."
"An optimist, are you? I never would've guessed."
"No, I'm not an optimist," Ron looked up, his eyes flashing red. "I have the power to kill all of you, but I'd rather save you, instead." Bellator blinked, blanching. "I have no choice but to keep trying, because the alternative ends with everyone dead. It ends with my family dead, and I won't allow that. I haven't sacrificed everything just to fail because of centuries-old grudges that have nothing to do with me." He stood up, closing the buttons on his suit. "Thank you for dinner."
"…Sure," the Chief Auror muttered, staring up at him with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "…Never believed in fairy-tales, but now, I'm in one. Who would've thunk?" She's a peculiar witch, isn't she?
Ron smirked, deciding to be on his way. "Goodnight, Bellator."
"Lucia," she corrected. "Or, Lucy, if you prefer."
He didn't respond, already heading for the door. I have to keep fighting, no matter how hopeless it might seem. The moment I stop, I'll be back atop the Astronomy Tower, like all the shit I've survived meant nothing at all.
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Sunday 4th July, 1994 (The Burrow – Afternoon)
Mrs. Weasley didn't like to see her doing chores, but Daphne had insisted. Not only because she felt like she owed her hosts some form of service, but also because it was a new experience for her to learn from. Washing dishes, taking out the trash, sweeping dust, folding the laundry… It was like living a different life altogether, one that sorely depended on humility and effort. Mrs. Weasley was, of course, skilled enough to take care of all the chores with nothing more than a handful of Charms, and yet, she made her children do said chores with their own hands, and now, Daphne understood why. She was teaching them responsibility, accountability, and respect for their home, even if they didn't appreciate her for it.
"That's the last of your chores for today, dear," the Weasley matriarch said, smiling encouragingly despite her earlier protests. "Put that broom away, and go relax. I insist."
"Very well," Daphne smiled back, returning the broom to its usual spot at the far corner of the kitchen. "I'll be in the living room should you need me."
"Reading that book of yours, again? Go on, I'll bring you some tea and biscuits." She's so kind and sweet, always trying to make me and my sister feel like we're a part of her family.
"Thank you," Daphne did a short curtsy, which made the older witch beam proudly. And she's quite easy to please, which is a nice change from my own mother.
The Greengrass heiress made her way into the living room, where she found the rest of the house's residents loitering about. Bill was napping on the couch, his long hair covering his face. The twins were playing Gobstones with Ginny, Astoria, and Spinny, no doubt conning the girls out of their sweets. And, lastly, Percy sat by the window, staring out into the rain with a copy of the Quibbler open in his lap. He's been in a particularly foul mood these past few days. What did Ron do to him? Knowing the prat, it couldn't have been anything good. Even thinking about the 'Prodigy of Slytherin' stung her in the worst possible way, she was utterly furious with the prick. He'd screamed in her face, frothing like some rabid dog and making her fear for her very safety, before revealing his true opinion of her in a disgusting display of arrogance and vitriol. He even threatened to 'bury' me, and I'm never going to forget that. Blaise was right, the Ron we knew, and fell in love with, he's gone. Replaced by this lesser, evermore hateful version of him.
She made her way further into the room, planting herself on an old, but comfortable, chair, reaching for her book on Centaur history that lay on the side-table. Now, which chapter was I on? Ah, yes, 'The Failed Rebellions of Chief Zagridas'. You'd think he would learn his lesson after the first one, but he went on to try three more times. He was certainly… committed, wasn't he? I suppose, he had nothing left to lose, given that his Tribe's lands were stolen and burned. I wonder what Chief Zotair would've done in his place?
Just as she opened her book, Mrs. Weasley entered the living room carrying an old tray. "Here you are, dear, nothing like a cup of tea, and a good book, on a rainy day." I wholeheartedly agree.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Daphne smiled, already feeling cosy.
"Molly," the older witch corrected. "No need to be overly proper, now, not with me." Sorry, I keep forgetting.
"Can we have some biscuits and tea?" Fred asked, earning himself an angry glare in response.
"You do your chores, and I'll think about it," Mrs. Weasley huffed, before smiling down at Daphne, again. "Call out if you need anything-"
The fireplace suddenly roared to life, and London stormed in with a deadly expression. Mrs. Weasley turned around and screamed in fright, causing Bill to jerk back to consciousness, rolling off the couch with a panicked look and his wand drawn. Wait! It's just-…!
"What the fuck?!" Bill yelled, firing a Non-Verbal stunner at London, who ducked under it, causing it to explode against the chimney, sending the Weasley family photographs flying off the mantle.
"Calm down, you lot!" London raised her hands, irked. "It's just me! I work for Ron, remember?!"
"What are you doing in my house?!" Mrs. Weasley barked, her own wand now at the ready. "Get out! Get out this instant!"
"The boss sent me," London looked to the terribly alarmed Daphne, giving her a curt nod. "It's time, princess. Go get your cloak, now." Time? Time for-…? Argenope! She's attacking the Tribe! Circe's Breath, this is really happening!
Daphne shot off the chair, running for the kitchen. Where did I put it?! Where?! Oh, damn, it's in my room, isn't it?! I have to hurry! She ran up the stairs as fast as she could, glad to be wearing jeans instead of a dress. It took her no more than two minutes to return, her cloak secure on her arm and her wand in her hand. Mr. Weasley was now in the living room, as well, having run over from his shed upon hearing his wife's scream. He was shouting at London, warning her to leave before he called the Aurors on her, but the green-haired mercenary looked more annoyed than threatened.
"I'm here!" Daphne panted, mostly from excitement. "Let's go, Lond-!"
"You are not going anywhere with her," Mr. Weasley cut in, moving between her and London. "I don't know what's going on, but I can tell it's dangerous."
"I didn't come here for an argument, all right?" London glowered. "Princess, are you coming, or not? I don't have time to waste."
"I'm coming," Daphne moved around Mr. Weasley, only for Mrs. Weasley to take her by the arm and pull her back. Hey! Let go of me!
"Tell us what's going on," the plump woman demanded, narrowing her eyes on London. "This girl's safety is my responsibility, and I won't let you have her until you explain yourself."
"…Are you-?" London started, but stopped abruptly, clenching her jaw. "Fine… I can't go back without her, anyway. The boss will be livid." She then drew in a sharp breath. "The Centaur Tribe the boss has been helping is under attack, but we have a plan to end the fighting before it even begins. Happy? Now, hand over the girl."
"Under attack? By who?" Bill asked, Percy standing by his side, now.
"Another Centaur Tribe," London answered swiftly, her eyes remaining fixed on Daphne. "Princess, I really don't have time for this." I know, I know!
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Daphne pulled her arm free, running over to London's side. "I'll explain everything once I'm back!"
Just as London started reaching for her Portkey, Mr. Weasley stepped up to Daphne's side. "I'm coming with."
"No, you're-…"
"I am, or she stays here," Mr. Weasley said strongly, before looking to Bill. "You too, son."
"Yeah, of course," the eldest Weasley sibling rushed over, sleep-marks on the side of his face.
"I'm coming too, then," Percy said, brandishing his own wand.
"No, Percy, you absolutely are not!" Mrs. Weasley ordered. "You're far too young for-!"
"I'm of age, and I don't need your permission to do anything," Percy cut her off, joining his father and brother. "Ron will be there, so I have to be there too."
"Brilliant, it'll be a proper Weasley family reunion," London rolled her eyes, gesturing them to take each other's hands.
"Can I come too?" Ginny asked.
"No!" Mr and Mrs. Weasley answered in unison.
"…But-"
"Hands, now!" London snapped, losing her patience, at last.
Daphne linked her arms with London and Mr. Weasley, managing one final look at the wide-eyed Astoria before the world turned in on itself, blinding lights bombarding them from every direction, until their feet suddenly landed upon soggy grass. Daphne almost lost her footing due to the uneven, soaked ground, but Mr. Weasley and London managed to keep her upright. The same couldn't be said of Percy, who landed on his arse unceremoniously.
"Thanks for that, Bill," the spectacled Weasley frowned, his hands and backside muddied.
"It's hardly my fault that you have two left feet," Bill countered, helping his brother up. "You all right?"
"…Merlin's Beard…" Mr. Weasley muttered, having had enough time to look around the frenzied camp.
Ron's mercenaries were running about like headless chickens, escorting the sick and dying towards their tents, as well as putting up Wards of Protection around the camp's edges. There was mayhem in every direction, so much so that Daphne felt her heartbeat escalate from merely watching the chaos unfold. Maybe, we should've involved the Ministry, after all. The Aurors would stop Argenope without any trouble, I'm sure of it. I really hope this insane plan Ron's cooked up works, because if it doesn't, then Chief Zotair and his people's deaths will be on our heads.
"Stick with me, all of you," London ordered, marching ahead. "The brains are set up in the Chief's tent, come on."
Mr. Weasley reached for Daphne's hand, but she moved forward without giving him the chance to play her babysitter. I need more information. Where is Argenope? Is she closing in as we speak? How many Centaurs are marching behind her?
"London, where is Argenope?" Daphne asked, struggling to keep up with the older witch's pace.
"She ought to be in the forest by now," London answered. "She didn't even get a chance to set off the Alarm Wards we placed, one of my lads spotted her from a distance using a telescope."
"Shouldn't the Wards have gone off, then?"
"No, we removed them."
"Why?" Daphne went wide-eyed. "That doesn't sound very smart-"
"Boss' orders, all right? He reckons Argenope could be tipped off if any of her people know how to detect Wards. We know they're coming, but they don't know that we know, and that gives us an advantage. Don't worry, though, the Wards set up a mile away, in each direction, are still in place. We'll know exactly where they're coming from, and we'll act accordingly."
"Has the plan been changed? Or, is Ron still planning to fight her all by himself?"
"Worried for him, are you?" London shot a smirk back, as if trying to lighten the mood. …I don't know… I shouldn't worry, honestly, because a part of me wants to see him get his attitude checked, but… I don't want him to get hurt too badly… I don't know… I don't know how I feel about him right-… "Princess, are you all right? You look like you need the loo."
"Is he here?" she asked, clearing her mind. Focus on Chief Zotair and the Tribe, not on Ron.
"The boss? No, not yet," London replied.
"What?! Why not?!"
"He was meditating when I left him, 'focusing his mind and Magic', as he put it," London shrugged. "Told me to fuck off right after, so I did." Of course. That's just how he speaks to people, now. Not a hint of respect for anyone who isn't his exact copy.
They entered Chief Zotair's yurt one by one, where they were met by Anvilk, Director Reid, and the iron-masked Centaur himself, all three of them standing around a crackling fire. What's Anvilk doing here? He sent his son to Argenope in the first place! This is all his fault!
When he saw her glaring at him, the former hunter glared back, his sickly face contorting in disgust. "Why is this girl here?"
"I could ask the same of you," Daphne countered before anyone else could speak. "You and your wife brought-"
"Lazras is no longer with us, child," Chief Zotair interrupted, his voice both low and mournful. …What? She isn't? How? "She found the Eternal Woods in her sleep."
Daphne bit her tongue, somehow feeling sorry for the sour-faced Anvilk, despite his obvious contempt for her. They really don't have any time left, do they? Chief Zotair… This is horrible…
"You were meant to bring Daphne, no one else," Director Reid said, though he didn't sound displeased.
"Where is my son?" Mr. Weasley demanded, looking around the yurt. "I need to speak with him." You want to intervene, you mean? Not a good idea.
"The Phantom will arrive when the time is right, as he always does," Chief Zotair answered, causing the Weasleys to exchange baffled looks. "For now, the good Healer and myself will coordinate our movements. We must hold Argenope far from the camp, demand an audience with her under the terms of Barkashtra. She will be compelled by Centaur Law to grant us a face-to-face meeting."
"What if she doesn't honour Centaur Law?" London asked. "We're putting a lot of faith in a mental bitch who's coming here to slaughter defenceless people."
"She will not refuse," Chief Zotair said reassuringly, coughing right after. "…I hold her in little regard, but she is not one to spit on our beliefs. She will speak with us, if only to demand an explanation from me."
"That's when the Chief will challenge her," Director Reid said, letting out a long breath. "…And he'll name Ronald as his champion." The Gods have mercy, this is pure madness, even by Ron's standards.
"Wait, what?" Mr. Weasley went wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "W-W-What is this Barka...? Um-"
"Barkashtra."
"Yes, what is that?"
"A battle to the death between two warring Chiefs," Anvilk answered, raising his head in pride. "It is a tradition as old as our people, and-"
"My teenage son is going to fight some Centaur Chief to the death?!" Mr. Weasley roared, Bill and Percy looking similarly furious. "Over my dead body, damn you! What is wrong with you people?!"
"Fire-Hair has made his decision, and it is not our place to question one such as him," Chief Zotair said sagely, but his words did nothing more than confuse and enrage the other occupants. "The stars wish to witness this great battle; I can feel it in my bones, weak and brittle as they are."
"You knew about this?!" Bill asked Daphne, who couldn't even bring herself to meet his gaze. "Director Reid?! You're a learned man, a scholar! And you're going along with this insanity?!"
"I'm getting the Minis-" Mr. Weasley started, but stopped as soon as London aimed her wand right at his head.
Bill and Percy drew on her promptly, while Daphne stumbled back in a panic. There's no need for this! Oh, Gods, this is too-…!
"No Ministry, no Aurors," London whispered dangerously, the tip of her wand glowing a frightening shade of green. "You won't fuck this up for him, you understand? I'll blow your legs off before I let you interfere with the boss' plans."
"London, put it down," Director Reid frowned. "Now!"
She smirked darkly, but listened to the Vampire. "…Shut up, and stay out of our way. There won't be a second warning. Oh, and don't bother trying to Apparate away. We've sealed off everything in a one-mile radius."
"…My son is not your champion," Mr. Weasley spoke directly to Chief Zotair, his fists shaking in righteous anger. "I won't allow this to happen, do you hear me?!"
"Your destiny too is subject to his whims," Chief Zotair responded, much to everyone's further bewilderment. "The future is being written as we speak, wizard, and neither of us have any power over it."
"We'll see about that," Mr. Weasley challenged, critically eyeing all of Ron's conspirators, including Daphne. …I'm sorry, but I tried to talk him out of it. He just doesn't care to listen, anymore. That's not my fault, is it?
Three Hours Later
Daphne stared out at the emptied camp, her cloak protecting her from the increasing downpour. The sun is starting to go down, and still no sign of either Argenope or Ron. Merlin, I feel so on edge right now. Why can't I just calm down, already? Why do I keep feeling like something terrible is going to happen?
Someone suddenly put their hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. "Woah, ease up, Princess. They're just nerves, yeah?"
Daphne let out a shaky breath, nodding meekly. "…I have a terrible feeling in my gut, and it won't stop."
"That tends to happen before a battle," London nodded in understanding.
"A battle? Is there really going to be one?" Daphne swallowed thickly.
"If Argenope refuses the Barkashtra, then yeah, I don't see what else we can do to stop her aside from put her down," London answered honestly. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here at the first sign of things going to pot."
"Ron too?"
"No, he'll stay and fight, that's just who he is," London shrugged. "I know things seem out of control right now, but they're not. We have eyes hidden away in every direction, a Portkey in every man's pocket, Wards protecting the camp and the forest itself, not to mention a lot of wizards and witches. Arrows, swords, maces, shields… They're not exactly useful against Magic."
"Centaurs have Magic too," Daphne reminded the mercenary.
"True, but compared to ours, it's primitive and lacking. Centaurs tend to run and fight at the same time, shooting arrows as they advance and retreat, but we've rigged a great many trees to explode on command, which'll force them to stand and fight. If Argenope is stupid enough to lead her people to their certain deaths, we'll oblige her."
"…Maybe, that's exactly what she wants," Daphne whispered, rubbing her arms for warmth. "What has she left to lose, exactly? My father stole her home, destroyed the unity of her people, and murdered the future of her Tribe. Maybe, she's coming here to die on her feet, rather than continue living on her knees."
"A grim thought, but it's possible," London sighed out. "Better to die fighting than live as cattle."
"…Does it really have to be this way?" Daphne asked, and the mercenary shot her a sorry smile. "…Right…"
"The boss will resolve this, just have some faith in him." I guess, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?
"Do you believe that?" came Percy's voice, and they turned to see him approaching them with a furrowed brow. "Can Ron really resolve this? Bill, father, and I, have been speaking with Director Reid… This situation is beyond absurd. Why didn't Ron contact the Ministry? How did he let it come to this?"
"The Ministry can't be-" London started.
"Trusted, I get it," Percy cut in, huffing. "But they have manpower, and they have authority. That's what's needed here."
"Your brother doesn't care for their authority, and neither do the rest of us," London said simply. "And Argenope? She wouldn't piss on the Ministry even if it were on fire. No, if we bring the Ministry here, they'll start throwing their weight around, as they always do, and that'll end in unnecessary deaths. Don't forget, the boss wants to save the children of this dying Tribe, and they can only survive with their own people. The Ministry will just toss them out into the cold to fend for themselves, and they'll be dead within weeks."
"You can't know that for certain," Percy argued. "The Centaur Liaison Office could-"
"No Centaur has used that 'Office' in its entire history, you idiot," London frowned, waving Percy off. "Piss off, brat. Your brother is running the show, not you. Keep your doubts and questions to yourself. None of us want to hear either."
Percy clenched his teeth so hard Daphne feared he'd break them, before he turned on his heel and stormed away. …Sorry, Percy.
"That was harsh, London," Daphne chastised half-heartedly, her own nerves still plaguing her.
"I need a clear head, and I've seen far too many snot-nosed chumps like him thinking the Ministry is the answer to every problem," London scoffed, shaking her head to herself. "In the short time I've known the boss, I've seen him challenge society itself and come out on top. If there's anyone worth following, anyone worth believing in, it's him. Not some shady organisation run by fat, lazy politicians who always look out for themselves first and last." I had no idea that she had so much faith in Ron. It sounds like it borders on fanaticism, if I'm being honest. Do they all think like her? Ron's mercenaries, I mean. Are they all that devoted to him? That's a rather scary thought, given that Ron isn't exactly the sanest person around.
"…What if… Ron loses the Barkashtra?" Daphne asked, her gut tightening painfully.
London scratched the side of her head, pulling a face. "…Then, I hope, Argenope makes it quick." Gods… Oh, Gods… She can't be fucking serious… "We have orders not to interfere, princess."
"…You do…?" Why?!
"It has to be a fair fight, and the loser has to pay the price. These are his words, not mine. I'll be sad to see him go, but I won't disobey him. None of us will." Then, you're all mad! I'll interfere myself! I don't care! He's not dying like this! "Come on, let's get something to eat. It's going to be a long night." I can still talk him out of this! It's not too late! A battle to the death?! That's wrong on so many levels!
Ronald Weasley's POV
Sunday 4th July, 1994 (The Chamber of Secrets – Night)
"…Champion," Fate whispered in his mind, her overwhelming, intoxicating aura enveloping his body.
Ron opened his eyes, knowing it was time to face Argenope for the future of her people. "Marty, let's go."
The Elf shot out of his bed, running over to Ron's side as he stood up. "London has not reported back yet, Master."
"Trust me, it's about to start," Ron promised, offering the Elf his gloved hand. "Take me to the camp."
Marty followed the command without delay, bringing the somewhat dazed Ron to his destination. That wasn't so bad. I was smart to rest up. I've got this. Rain pelted him and Marty, while the wind caused their clothing to ripple violently under its onslaught. Not dissuaded in the slightest, however, he marched forward, his vigilant mercenaries quick to notice his arrival. They began to follow him, escorting him all the way to Zotair's yurt, which he entered without any ceremony.
"Ron!" Daphne stood up in a rush, she'd been warming herself by the fire.
"Boss, you're-" London started.
"She's here," Ron told them, his eyes lingering on his father and brothers. Why are they here? It doesn't matter. I must remain focused on the task at hand.
"The Wards haven't-"
"London!" a breathless woman rushed into the tent, her eyes blazing with determination. "They're a couple miles south of here! We got damn lucky! They've no idea we're even here!"
The occupants of the yurt looked to Ron with strange expressions, save for Zotair, who rose to his full height with a pained grunt. "Let our fates be decided, then."
"No!" Arthur stepped forward, giving Ron an all-too-familiar look. "You're not doing this, Ro-!" Depulso!
Ron waved his hand, sending his faithless father flying straight into a support beam with enough force to break it in half. "Anyone else?" He scanned the room with a resolved expression, taking in the shock, and in some cases, the horror, before turning on his heel and marching back out. "All of you! With me! Tonight, we save what can be saved!" Tonight, we do the Headmaster proud!
Argenope's warband beat their chests, stomped their hooves, and waved their torches about, anticipation sending them into a frenzy. There were nearly a hundred of them, all of them able-bodied and adorned in wooden armour, their obsidian-glass spears sharpened for slaughter. Ron, and his mercenaries, remained unfazed, however, even in the face of the blood-curdling screams being sent their way. Steady! They're just trying to intimidate us! No one move a fucking muscle! The Centaurs suddenly began to chant in perfect unison, pounding the ends of their spears into the ground as they made way for their great Chief. She was taller than all of them, with a thinning, white coat, long white hair, and scars all over, the victor of a hundred battles. Her black eyes gleamed in the torchlight, full of scorn and revulsion for the two-legged beasts blocking her path.
"Zotair!" Argenope roared, silencing her warband within a heartbeat. "Reveal yourself, coward, so I can kill you!"
"You can do this," Reid whispered to the sickly Chief, his expression unreadable.
Zotair limped forward, the mile-long hike here had sapped most of his strength. "…We meet again, mother." Mother?! No, wait, she adopted him for a while, didn't she? Before cutting him, and the rest of the sick, loose.
"Mother?!" Argenope bellowed, spitting on the ground. "You dare call me that, now?! No! We are kin no longer, traitor! You have dishonoured yourself, and the fallen, with this shameless alliance with the very monsters who poisoned us!" She then raised her fist into the air, and her warband pointed their spears forward. "Kill th-!"
"Barkashtra!" Zotair raised his voice, and it felt as though time itself froze. Cutting it close there, weren't you? "I challenge you, Chief Argenope, to allow the Gods to decide whose cause is more righteous."
Argenope studied Zotair in utter silence, the wrinkles around her furious eyes becoming creased. "You dare challenge me, boy? You? Are you even fit to raise your shield?"
"Do you accept?" Zotair asked in response, having a coughing fit immediately after.
The warband laughed at his sickness, but were silenced almost immediately by their leader, who raised her head in a manner that could almost be interpreted as respect. "I accept, Chief Zotair. Brùn eshda ri morva!" What's that mean?
"Brùn eshda… ri morva…" Zotair managed, his breathing now laboured. What now? Do we gather around for tea? Discuss terms? Or, are we doing this right here and now?
"One hour!" Argenope rose on her hindlegs, before racing off in the opposite direction.
The warband followed in her wake, howling madly at the rain-clouds above as their torches vanished into the forest. One hour, eh? I will continue my meditation, then. No distractions, not tonight.
One Hour Later
As it turned out, Zotair had invited his step-mother to battle right in the heart of his camp, upon her request, and so, Ron's mercenaries had been forced to remodel the camp, removing yurts, and their residents, in order to create a clearing large enough for everyone to have a stellar view of the fight. Thankfully, the rain had stopped rather abruptly, and the clouds had mysteriously parted, revealing the night sky and allowing starlight to illuminate the clearing. Almost as if someone up there wants to watch, eh? She's here. I can feel her all around me.
Many had come to interrupt his meditation, including Daphne and Percy, but he had shut out all their nagging voices as London and Marty protected his body. He refused to allow anyone to whisper their doubts into his ears, knowing that uncertainty would lead to a certain death. We are in the final stage of my plan, now. It's too late to go back, too late to worry about what could've been.
Distant howls brought him back to reality, as well as sending his mercenaries into action. Let's fucking go, then! Ron stood up, rolling his shoulders and drawing in a deep breath. Where are you, Fate? Let me see you, so I know I'm not alone. His gaze travelled around the clearing, lingering on the scared faces of the sickly Centaurs, but Fate was nowhere to be found. …The clouds… He looked up, and what he saw made his knees nearly buckle from terror. Far above the Earth were two golden, planet-sized orbs, the eyes of Fate, each twice the size of the moon itself. …Fucking fuck… She was gazing down at him from the Heavens, her all-seeing vision fixed right on top of him. …Easy, old boy. Easy. She's all powerful, remember? She's all powerful… He drew in another deep breath, holding it in this time. I am in control. She is here to watch over me, nothing more. He exhaled, curling his hands into fists. Time to put on a show!
"You okay, boss?" London asked, watching him closely.
"Look up for me, will you? What do you see?" Ron asked, and both her and Marty looked up.
"Um… The moon and the stars," London answered slowly. Right, then. Imagine if they could see her, they'd shit themselves right on the spot. "Boss-?"
"I'm going to go find Zotair, while you make sure the arena is ready," Ron ordered, moving forward with absolute determination.
Zotair's yurt was the only one left standing, being guarded by two members of the Death's Hand and a frail Anvilk, who'd apparently weakened in his hatred after his wife's sudden passing. I wonder if some part of him is even grateful to me for sparing his son the same fate. If he is, he certainly doesn't show it. Maybe, he no longer remembers how to.
"Any problems with my father?" Ron asked his mercenaries.
"He's restless, but we have his wand and he finally understands he's not going anywhere," the one on the right answered. Good, I don't need him interfering with my work. Not tonight.
Ron entered the yurt, where Daphne, his father, his brothers, Reid, and Zotair, were all staying, huddled around the fire and speaking in hushed whispers. Merlin, Zotair looks ready to croak. Just hold on a little longer, please. If you die now, everything we've done here will have been for nothing.
"How is he?" Ron asked Reid, who was tending to the wheezing Centaur.
"The march did him no favours," the Vampire answered, looking to the young Slytherin. "But he'll survive with a bit of rest."
"They're coming," Ron informed them. "We can hear their screams outside. Get him up on his feet."
"Ron, he can't," Daphne pleaded, holding wet bandages in her hands. Always eager to help, eh? No, stop that… Give her no thought. She's not important right now.
"Get him up," Ron repeated, his voice a little more forceful. "He has to declare me his champ-"
"We've been talking, Ron, and we think it's best if Director Reid-" Bill started, but Ron Wandlessly, and Non-Verbally, silenced him. "…"
"This doesn't involve you three," Ron frowned at his father and brothers. "You're not even supposed to be here." What the fuck were you thinking, Percy?
"Ron, this has gone too far, already!" Arthur stood up, red in the face with anger. "You've dragged Daphne into a life-threatening situation, raised your hand against your own father, and now, you're going to get yourself-!"
The man abruptly fell silent, becoming dumbfounded at something massive creeping up behind Ron, who slowly turned around and came face-to-face with Argenope, her black, bottomless eyes glaring down at him. Not even a warning, eh? I doubt she waited to be let in. They took her weapons, at least.
"Hair kissed by fire, and eyes as blue as the ocean," Argenope whispered, craning her neck as to get a better look at him. "Khandra told me about you, wizard. He told me you wished to rule over him, and the other children like him, those you saved to turn into your mules." Khandra is a stupid cunt, isn't he?
"Why would I want mules that can talk back?" Ron grinned, his heart already beating faster. C'mon! Let's just start fighting right now! I've so been looking forward to this! "Khandra lied to you, Chief Argenope. I have no desire to rule over your people."
"Then, why are you here?" Argenope asked, neither of them blinking.
"Because I'm needed here," Ron answered plainly.
She stared into his eyes, as if searching for the truth within them, before raising her head once again. "Take your people, and leave this place. You are not needed here."
"I beg to differ."
"He is here by my invitation…" came Zotair's voice, ragged and weak. "…And so, he shall remain here until he has my leave."
Argenope moved past Ron, slowly approaching the others with her gaze fixed solely on the dying Chief. "…Your fine coat has been ruined, little one."
"…My coat is… the least of my worries, mother," Zotair wheezed, sitting up with great struggle. "…My lungs, however, give me reason to fear…"
Argenope hesitated for a moment, as if lost for words. "Leave us, all of you. A Chief's yurt is no place for your kind."
Ron nodded at Reid from behind the white-haired Centaur, and the Vampire sprang into action. "Come, Daphne. Mr. Weasleys, you as well. We must pay Chief Argenope the respect she is due."
Ron remained in his position, ignoring them as they were all escorted out by Reid. Finally, now I can focus, again. He moved over to the fire, kneeling down and warming his hands, his eyes finding Argenope's, again.
"I meant you as well, boy," Argenope sneered, disgusted.
"I haven't given him my leave, yet," Zotair rasped, and Ron smiled from ear-to-ear. "…Why have you come here, mother? What do you hope to achieve? Hasn't there been enough death, already?"
"You dishonour our people so shamelessly, and expect me to ignore such an insult?" Argenope asked in response. "This boy's foul kind destroyed our Tribe, murdered your father-"
"You murdered my father," Zotair interrupted, some vigour returning to his voice. "You rebelled, you took away his bow, and you had him crushed under the hooves of your hunters. You murdered him-"
"This, again?" Argenope clenched her strong jaw, furious. "Your father's inaction lost us our home! Lost us our children! The guilt shattered his mind, turned him into a recluse mumbling Prophecies to himself! He was no longer fit to lead!" Is that really true? "He's failed to mention that fact, hasn't he, boy? Zotair never could bring himself to admit that his father became nothing more than a shell after his grand failure. I didn't rebel, the Tribe begged me to put Oreron out of his misery! I loved him, respected him, honoured him, but he left me no choice! I spent weeks trying to bring him back from his madness, urging him to be strong, but nothing worked! He surrendered to despair, to remorse, even though our people still needed him!" Ron looked to Zotair; his iron-head was now hanging low. "I took you in, Zotair, as my own, out of respect for Oreron's memory. And you called me murderer. You called me usurper. You shamed me, undermined me, rebelled against me, and yet, I never punished you, because your pain was my pain."
"If that's true, then why did you abandon him?" Ron asked, genuinely curious. "I want to know what really happened, Chief Argenope. I've heard his side of the story, tell me yours."
"Why?" Argenope frowned at him. "I owe you nothing, wizard."
"True, you don't, but if we're going to face each other in Barkashtra, I want to understand why you're fighting."
"Face each other?" Argenope repeated, looking between him and her adopted son. "…No… Surely, Zotair, even you have not fallen this low…"
"Scared?" Ron goaded, smirking.
"Of you? A child?!" Argenope hissed, spitting on the ground. Fuck's sake, why do Centaurs love spitting so much? It's gross. "You have not even earned the right to stand in my presence, let alone face me in combat!"
"You have our positions mixed up, I assure you," Ron lost his mirth, his eyes flashing red. "I'm as much a child as you are."
Argenope stared at him, remaining silent for many moments. "…I see." No, you don't, but you will.
"To have a champion represent me is my right, and you cannot determine who that champion is," Zotair spoke up. "You already accepted my challenge, there is no turning back."
"Why are you doing this?" Ron demanded, rising. "Those children my people saved… They deserve to live, they deserve to have a Tribe, and you're the one person who can give them that. Why does it have to be this way?"
"They will have a Tribe when this is over… I will accept them just as I accepted Khandra," Argenope revealed, surprising both Ron and Zotair. "I have not come here to murder children. I am not a wizard. I have come to cleanse those I was once too weak to purify. My weakness allowed this travesty to occur, and I will rectify my mistake after I've pierced your heart with my spear." She then looked to Zotair, like a parent scolding a child. "You've lost your honour, but I will return it to you in death. Bowing and scraping before wizards, it's no way to earn your place in the Eternal Woods. You will be given a sinner's death, same as your father, so that you may pay for your crimes here rather than in the afterlife."
With that, she stormed out of the tent, leaving Ron and Zotair behind to contemplate her words. Was she telling the truth? She really means to take the healthy children with her? If so, then my task doesn't seem so impossible, anymore. I just have to beat her, then spare her before I deliver the killing blow. I'll still need to make some speech, to really let the message sink in, but that's nothing compared to what I needed to achieve before.
"You didn't paint a very accurate picture of her, Zotair," Ron reprimanded, there was a strength in the old Centaur that he couldn't help but admire. "She seems less like a usurper, and more like a leader who stepped up when no one else would. Care to explain yourself?" The sickly Centaur maintained his silence, much to Ron's disappointment. "Is it right to hate someone for cutting for their hand to save their body? You forgave the monster who brought your people low, but you can't forgive the warrior who fought to keep them alive?"
"I do not resent her for what she did to my father, even though she disagreed with everything he stood for," Zotair broke his silence. "I resent her for the way she treated those she saw as weak. She locked them away, starved them, prayed for their deaths… She abandoned them even before we knew the sickness was contagious."
"That's why you tried to help them? To feed them? That's how you got sick?" Ron asked, and Zotair gave a tired nod. "Maybe, she locked them away because she knew the sickness could spread? Did you ever ask her why she did what she did?"
"…No."
Ron exhaled, shaking his head to himself. "You were still young, I suppose. Stupid, but young. Think about it, mate… If she had revealed that the sickness could spread to those still healthy, what would your Tribe have done? You lot, who are so quick to dish out death for the slightest of reasons? What would've happened to the sick if the truth was discovered?" They'd have been shot full of arrows. "Once you became infected, she 'abandoned' you here with the others, right? Why didn't she just kill you?"
Zotair said nothing in response, but Ron had his answer, already. She cared for him, and she probably still does. She's not here to commit genocide, she thinks she's saving their honour and dignity. Centaur culture is crude, downright savage, but it's quite straightforward too. Her anger, all her pain, it's blinding her to the bloody path she's travelling down. I've been there myself, and if not for Madam Pomfrey, I'd still be nothing more than the Champion of Fate. She brought me back, and now, I know why. I have to bring Argenope back.
"This fight isn't just about stopping her, it's about showing her a better way," Ron whispered to himself, heading for the exit. "As you told me not too long ago, Zotair… Death only begets more death. There is still a chance for her to find peace, and I'll prove that to her with my fists." Centaurs respect strength above all, so it's time I show them mine.
Argenope's shamans were in place, four of them positioned in each major direction. Her warband, Ron's mercenaries, and Zotair's Tribe, encircled the two combatants, whispering amongst each other about Merlin-knows-what. Perhaps, they were taking bets, or they were discussing what came next after one of their leaders was dead. Whatever was on their minds, Ron knew that he didn't care, because his focus was reserved only for Argenope. She had entered the arena wearing a ceremonial armour, which appeared to be made out of thick, interwoven tree roots, as well as her Ironbark shield and obsidian-glass spear. As for Ron himself, he had chosen to morph his body into the bulkier shape he had assumed during his Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, as well as brandishing his Cypress wand. I would've preferred to use them both, but with Arthur 'the dumb cunt' Weasley out there, I can't afford to give him anything he can use to incriminate me.
"Reveal your designs to me before we begin, boy," Argenope called out, pacing back-and-forth. "What are you hoping to achieve by throwing your life away so carelessly?"
"I'm not throwing my life away," Ron responded, unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling it off. "I'm saving yours."
She laughed scathingly, spinning her spear in her left hand. "Sparing my life? The arrogance of wizards never ceases to surprise me. You, child, have never faced an opponent such as-"
She stopped as soon as he removed his shirt, his scarred, muscular torso silencing whatever insult she planned to throw at him next. I told you, you have our positions mixed up. Ron's mercenaries broke into cheers and whistles, whereas Argenope's warband was left just as stunned as she was. Shame about my armour, but I can't move about as freely wearing it with this bulkier form. I still have my Goblin-Steel bracers and glove, though, so they'll have to suffice.
"You've no idea how far your rage has led you astray, Chief Argenope," Ron said icily, rolling his shoulders and neck. "But it's not too late for you, not yet. I've determined that you can still be saved, so that's what's going to happen here. No more death. Not on my watch." She adorned a far more serious expression, raising her shield and spear, watching his every movement, no matter how small, like a hawk. "Go on, then. Give the signal. Let's do this."
"Kaaruvi kess!" Argenope roared, pounding her shield with her spear. "Kaaruvi kess!"
Her shamans began chanting, swiftly joined by the rest of her warband. "Ono killi! Ono killi! Prassnaash! Turvathulû! Prassnaash! Grimpathulû! Prassnaash! Brakathulû! Ahûsuniche!"
Ron grit his teeth, looking around to see a green, Magical dome take form at the hands of the shamans, trapping him and Argenope inside. "C'mon, then, bitch! Show me what you can do!"
Argenope hurled her spear at him, which he side-stepped without any trouble, but just as he went to return fire, it reappeared in her hand, as if she'd Conjured it back. Neat! She charged forward, her hooves tearing the grass apart, the tip of her spear aimed at his heart. Protego! With a wave of his left hand, Ron erected a white, Magical shield, which she stabbed with all of her might. The spear almost went through, but Ron's shield was far too thick to be penetrated so easily. Depulso! He pushed with both his hands, sending the shield forth in a cone-like shape, and with it, Argenope as well. She dug her hooves into the ground, managing to stay upright despite his best efforts. My turn!
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Flipendo!" Ron chained his Spells, but Argenope galloped from side-to-side, dodging them all. Furens Tempestas!
Just as she went to hurl her spear, again, he slashed his wand upwards, electricity erupting from the tip of his wand. It tore the ground apart on its way to the old Chief, who raised a green, Magical shield of her own, one powerful enough to soak up torrents upon torrents of electrical discharge without shattering. Lumos Solem! He maintained the barrage of electricity, pulling his head back before unleashing a golden beam from his eyes and mouth, which was just enough to annihilate Argenope's defences, sending her reeling back even further. I got her!
As soon as he ended the Wandless Spell, he saw that she'd used her Ironbark shield to save herself at the very last second, still standing on her four legs. …Impressive. Most wizards wouldn't be able to withstand such a violent, and speedy, onslaught. His lips twisted into a grim grin, his heart pumping faster and faster. This is what I need! This is who I am! A fucking warrior!
Ron burst into a sprint towards Argenope's right, and she tried to cut him off with a well-aimed throw of her spear, forcing him to duck and roll. Rumpe-! No! Not that one! No Curses, as a matter of fact! His wand was already aimed at her, but the Curse never went off due to the incomplete incantation. Move! You missed your chance! Argenope wasted no time in capitalizing on his mistake, digging her spear into the ground ahead of her. The Earth groaned as roots sprang forth from her spear's tip, twisting and turning as they hurtled for Ron. Incendio! He unleashed a jet of flames at the oncoming roots, hot enough to char and curl them within mere seconds. Keep moving! He bolted towards the left this time, narrowly dodging Argenope's spear before firing off several stunners at her. She blocked most of them with her shield, summoning her spear back and charging after him. That again?! Knock it off!
Knowing that he had no chance of outrunning her, not without Cutis Terra, Ron dug his feet into the ground and fired another jet of flames, this time aiming for Argenope herself. Her Magical shield went up, again, as predicted, and Ron swiftly cut off the stream of fire and casted Finite Incantatem. To his glee, and her shock, the red ball of light shattered Argenope's Magical shield into a million pieces, allowing him to start Chaining, again, bombarding her Ironbark shield in a bid to weaken the arm holding it in place. I need to limit her mobility, somehow! Force her to fight like a wizard instead of a Centaur! If she keeps charging at me, she'll end up impaling me eventually!
"Orbis!" Ron chanted, suddenly firing the Sinking Charm in front of himself. "Depulso!"
Using a combination of the two Spells, Ron sent the effects of the Sinking Charm forward like a tidal wave, turning the ground between him and Argenope into hungry quicksand. She shot up onto her hindlegs, landing with a monstrous bellow as well as a transparent shockwave of Magic, which, much to Ron's bewilderment, undid his quicksand, blowing past him with frightening force. What the fuck was that shit?! Was that the Centaur equivalent of Finite-?! Oh, shit! He dove to the side, dodging another spear throw, and by the time he looked up, she was charging straight for him once again. This fucking cunt! Stop trying that, already!
His temper flaring, Ron rose up to one knee and unleashed another jet of flames at her, as well as pulling his left hand back for a surprise. Feeling the flames clash against her Magical shield for a second time, he cast a Wandless Ventus, combining wind and fire to deadly effect. He felt her defences swiftly begin to crumble under the weight of his Magic, enhanced by his morphed body, but he decided to hold both Spells for a few more seconds, just to show her how easily he could kill her if he so willed it. All right, all right… That's enough, I reckon. He cancelled the Spells, rising up to his feet and witnessing the damage he'd unleashed upon the battlefield. The ground between him and his opponent was charred black, a smouldering ruin, and Argenope herself had been left marked by his Magic. Her Ironbark shield was ablaze, the lower half of her spear too, and there were several burns of varying severity on her exposed forelegs and scorch marks on her armour. Those injuries can be healed with time, or a good Healer. She'll be fine.
Her breathing ragged and pained, she hurled her burning spear at him, which he dodged with very little effort. More surprising, however, was when she threw her fiery shield like a frisbee from Hell in the direction he'd dodged in, anticipating his movement expertly. Resourceful, aren't you? Ron snapped his spine in half, his eyes meeting Fate's in the sky as the shield flew over him, before he promptly repaired himself into an upright position. Hehehehehe! Argenope gawked at him with a mixture of mounting dread and realisation, this boy-wizard was going to kill her. Is that fear We see? Yes, it is.
She bolted away from him, racing to the other end of the arena, and once there, she aimed her palms on either side of her. With a monstrous roar, she tore two massive chunks out of the Earth, hurling them at him in quick succession. Immobulus. Ron raised his left hand, stopping her assault with little to no effort, before waving his hand and sending the 'boulders' flying to the side. He swaggered forward as she Conjured a great-bow into her hands, and a full quiver onto back, taking aim at her unnatural adversary. This could be troublesome, but what the hell? Bring it on.
"It doesn't have to be this way," Ron called out to her, stopping in place. "The world would be poorer without you, Chief Argenope, and without me, it would burn. Surrender, and we can talk-"
"I will not surrender to your kind! Never again!" Argenope barked, loosing an arrow at his head, which he avoided by dislocating his neck to the left. Damn, that was really fucking fast! Way faster than I anticipated! Sharpen up, old boy! "You want to walk out of here, wizard?! You'll have to kill me, first!"
"No," Ron refused, adorning his fighting stance. "No one dies, tonight."
Infuriated with his hollow words, with his blatant disregard for the rules of Barkashtra, Argenope began galloping along the Magical barrier surrounding them, firing arrow after arrow at him. He blocked them all with a simple Shield Charm, observing her slowed movement rather than retaliating. The burns are doing their job, she's overexerting herself just so she can fight from a distance. Unfortunately for her, I have the advantage at range, which I'm certain is not lost on her. She's starting to become desperate. He felt his lips quirk upwards, her unyielding spirit even in the face of certain defeat impressed him greatly. This is what a leader should be, willing to lay down their own life to protect their people. With half her quiver already empty, Argenope stopped running and nocked yet another arrow, pulling the string back so far that it nearly snapped. Something's coming, I can Sense her Magic acting up! Get ready!
"Ÿrsta!" Argenope chanted, her arrow becoming engulfed in purple lighting, before being shot out of her great-bow with such speed that it shattered Ron's Shield Charm with force alone.
His instincts came through for him, however, as he'd already dropped onto his belly, the charged arrow crackling overhead and digging itself into the Magical barrier. That was so cool! Ron grinned at her from the ground, and just as she prepared her next shot, he decided to show off a little himself. Fumos! His lungs filled up with black smoke, which he spewed out with gusto, hiding himself from her vision. He then began rolling to the right, hoping to dodge any stray arrows she might fire into the smoke in the hopes of ending him. Now, let's try this, shall we? He jumped to his feet, aiming his wand at the ground before him. Glacius! With practised control, he formed a several-inch thick, circular sheet of ice, which he then Enchanted with the Unbreakable Charm. Almost set! Hurry! Casting the Sticking Charm to the soles of his shoes, Ron stood glued on top of the sheet of ice, drawing in a very long breath to steady his nerves. Wingardium Leviosa! He thrust his left palm down, seizing the ice with Wandless Magic and lifting himself off the ground. Ohhh, this is tricky! Should've practiced this beforehand!
Swaying back-and-forth, Ron quickly adapted thanks to his enhanced body, commanding the ice to fly forward. He burst forth from the smoke with great haste, soaring through the air as his eyes searched for Argenope, who'd repositioned herself during his short time in hiding. I'm flying, bitches! I'm fucking flying! He laughed maniacally at the sight of Argenope's slack-jawed face, aiming his wand at her head. Stupefy! The stunner barely missed, as the Centaur Chief managed to recover her senses in time to dash forward. With great focus, Ron willed the ice to follow in her wake, throwing stunner after stunner at her from far above. He rapidly realised that, now that he was actually in the air, he couldn't risk casting a great many Spells in his arsenal, as any advanced wand movements would risk the precious balance he was desperately trying to maintain. Still, despite this particular limitation, Argenope could do little but run from him, occasionally looking back to fire a poorly aimed arrow at him, her increasing exhaustion and pain taking their toll on her, and soon enough, one of Ron's stunners found their mark, smashing into her back and causing her to collapse face-first into the ground. The heavier weight of her lower-half, aided by her momentum, caused her to roll, crushing her top-half in the process. Oooof! Fuck, that must've hurt! She didn't just die, did she?!
He came to a stop above her, worried that she might've mangled her spine in the fall, but those fears were swiftly swept away, as she desperately tried to get back up before he could finish her off. Oh, I'm done chasing you! You're staying right where you are! Carpe Retractum! He waved his wand above his head in a circular motion, an orange cord made out of pure Magic firing out of the tip and wrapping itself around Argenope's neck. Trying to topple her, again, he willed the sheet of ice to fly backwards, but the Centaur tossed her bow away and seized the Magical cord with both her hands, using her weight to her advantage and turning Ron's Spell against him. …Oh, fuck… She let out a primal scream, yanking him down with such force that his concentration broke, causing him and his icy platform to crash into the ground. The impact rendered him breathless, the throbbing pain in his chest promising a couple of broken ribs, at the very least. …Merlin's Beard… I can't breathe… That was… so fucking stupid… Even after all that, she can still tank a stunner? She's… damn tough…
Pathetically waving his wand, Ron undid the Sticking Charm on his shoes, before rolling onto his back. Fate's constant gaze made him feel even more embarrassed, she'd just witnessed her Champion eat dirt like some simple twat. …You picked well, didn't you? Fuck you… Gnashing his teeth, Ron willed himself to stand back up, using his Occlumency to lock his pain away into the back of his mind. …Just breathe… Just breathe… You're okay… He turned to face her, noticing that she looked ready to collapse, now, thick beads of sweat rolling down her face as her glassy eyes did their best to remain open. That tumble fucked her up real bad, didn't it?
"How's your spine?" Ron asked, panting with a smile.
Her lips quirked upwards, and she drew in a sharp breath. "…I'm not done yet, wizard." Having fun, right? Me too.
"Good," Ron chuckled, before coughing painfully. Fuck, a twenty-foot drop is no joke. "I'll let you get your bow, while you let me catch my breath. Go on."
She raised her hands above her head, Conjuring a hulking, two-handed war-hammer, one with a handle made of spiralling Ironbark and the head itself made of a jagged chunk of obsidian. …This bitch and her endless weaponry…
"At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if you pulled out a fucking wand," Ron rolled his eyes, more amused than annoyed. "…C'mon, then, try and cave my head in."
"Gladly!" Argenope bellowed, weakly galloping towards him.
Ron tossed his wand aside, sniffing loudly. Cutis Terra! Just as his muscles became flooded with Magic, she brought the war-hammer down towards his head. He raised up his forearms in the shape of an 'X', locking his bracers against the handle. The sheer force behind her swing caused his feet to sink a couple of inches into the ground, a shockwave of Errant Magic exploding around them. Ron growled as he glared up at her, she was no longer surprised by this new feat of his, instead she roared as she continued to push downwards, trying to overwhelm him with her strength alone. Brachium Colubrum! An ethereal serpent slipped out of his left bracer, much to Argenope's horror, launching itself towards her face, its fangs digging deep into her jaw. She shot backwards, and having learned from his mistake, Ron promptly undid the Spell, causing the serpent to simply vanish into thin air. Argenope cursed in her native tongue, the lower part of her face completely bloodied. I can Conjure things too… It's not fun, is it?
"…Killed by a boy…" she spat out blood, her breathing even more erratic, now.
"I told you, already, no one is dying tonight," Ron took a step forward, gesturing her to come at him, again.
"…Barkashtra must be honoured… You must honour-"
"I have honoured it, and I know for a fact that it doesn't always end in death," Ron interrupted, raising his head proudly. "I studied your customs, Chief Argenope. This plan… It wasn't Zotair's idea, it was Jonathan Reid's. We cooked it up together, he and I. We knew you were coming, and we could've killed you all, but none of us want that. We just want you to live… We want those children to live."
"Why?! What concern is it of yours?!" she demanded, her trembling hand holding her damaged face. "Who are you to interfere with my duty?!"
"I'm someone who's been pushed too far too many times, and I can see that you're the same," Ron answered, matching her gaze. "You can't beat the Wizarding-World, Argenope… You just can't. Your people are scattered, broken… They don't need vengeance. They need to heal. What's the point of fighting if you're all going to die needlessly? What does that even achieve? You're letting Greengrass win, don't you see that?!"
"You wouldn't understand," she whispered tiredly, raising her war-hammer, again. "…You don't know loss, wizard. We have nothing left but our pride, and still, your kind isn't sated. You won't stop until we're all extinct, and I'm not going to die without making you work for it."
"Then, come work for it," Ron frowned, deciding to pound some more sense into her.
With great effort, she brought the war-hammer down, again, but this time, Ron stepped aside, letting it hit the ground. With disturbing speed, he grabbed onto her left arm, using the war-hammer's handle as a ramp to propel himself up. Like a spider, he crawled onto her top-half, his bones cracking and shifting to accommodate his will, and once he was in position on her back, he put her in a chokehold. She let go of her weapon, reaching above her head and grabbing his hair, but it was too late, as Ron bit into the side of her neck, his human teeth digging into her flesh and filling his mouth with blood. She screamed, trying to buck him off, but he held on, both throttling her and mauling her. Stop fighting! It's over! You know I can kill you right now! You know it! Just stop! He felt his hair being torn out, but he refused to stop, pitting his willpower against hers. After a few more seconds of resistance, the lack of oxygen caused her to collapse onto her side, his left leg getting crushed under her weight. FUCK! OW! You fat fucking bitch! Despite his enhanced body, despite the effects of Cutis Terra, he was subjected to terrible pain, but he didn't let go, not even for a second, not until Argenope was at the edge of unconsciousness. …That's enough. It's over, now. It's over.
He let her go, using his right leg to push himself out from under her. They both lay motionless on the ground, save for their ragged breathing, but Ron soon forced himself to rise onto his feet, limping towards the discarded war-hammer. Gripping the handle tightly, he lifted the weapon with a grunt, limping back to the wheezing body of his fallen foe.
"…Do it…" she stared up at him with drooping eyes, defiant to the very end. "…You fought… well… You have earned… this kill…"
"And you fought well enough to warrant my mercy," Ron returned, raising the war-hammer up and bringing it down right next to her head, embedding it into ground. "I honoured your people's traditions, Chief Argenope, and now, you will honour mine."
"…I refuse-"
"Are you a coward?!" Ron roared, silencing her. "Are you?!" She didn't respond, trying her hardest to stay awake in spite of her many injuries. "You! Will! Honour! My! People's! Traditions!" He looked around at those bearing witness, they were all watching him with nothing less than awe. "All of you! There will be no more death! This is over! If anyone has any objections, step into the fucking ring right now!" None dared, not even those who had followed Argenope here. "Chief Argenope, I spare your life, and in doing so, I am owed a Life-Debt! You must repay this debt, and I will tell you how! You will take the healthy children from Chief Zotair's Tribe, and you will raise them as your own! You will nurture them! You will teach them to hunt! You will give them the life that was nearly stolen from them! And, you will depart from here without shedding any blood! Not a fucking speck of it!" She remained silent still, though her defiance was slowly giving way to resignation. "Give me your word, now! I need your word!"
She hesitated, before averting her spent gaze. "…I give my… word… You win, wizard… No more death…"
"You've all heard her!" Ron addressed her warband, shaking from adrenaline. "This great warrior is the only reason why you all survived the terrible plague that ravaged your Tribe! Without her, none of you would be here! You will honour her words! I am not your enemy, but if you give me reason, I will hunt you down and destroy you! You have been warned! Go back to your lives, rebuild what you have lost, and leave war to those still fit to wage it!"
With that, he turned around and began limping away, shooting a glance up at the night sky. She's gone. Good. When he looked back down, he saw Dream standing between him and the barrier, wearing his original form and a proud smile on his face. Ron stopped for a second, before continuing onwards, limping past the Elder without sparing him another glance. The Magical dome started falling apart, and the first one through the crowd was Reid, rushing straight for him.
"Not me," Ron stopped, pointing at Argenope. "Her."
The Vampire stared at him with a strange glint in his eyes, before doing as he was told with a happy smile. The redhead continued forward, listening to his mercenaries' cheers and whistles, as well as Argenope's warband pounding their spears into the ground to honour his victory. It wasn't until he reached the edge of the arena that he spotted his father, brothers, and Daphne, all four of them gawking at him with a mixture of admiration, wonder, and fear. They were all flushed, teary-eyed even, just standing there and basking in his presence, though Ron could only really bring himself to focus on Daphne. You've been warned too. Someday, I will end your parents, and if you get in my way, I will end you alongside them. Your accursed family has shed enough blood over the centuries. No more. I was wrong to regret my words to you, because for the first time, I was completely honest with you. It's time you grow up and pick which side you want to be on.
He moved past them, ignoring their calls as he turned his focus towards London and Marty, the latter already fussing over his injuries from afar. Let's go home, mate. We're done here.
"London, you're up," Ron said, spitting out the bitter blood in his mouth. "I've done my part, now you have to do yours."
"You can count on me, boss," London gave a strong nod. "For anything and everything."
"Marty, take us home, please," Ron ordered, offering his Elf his gloved hand, the pair of them Apparating back to the shadows.
Author's Notes: Hope you guys enjoyed it, see you on the next one!