5,482Dedicated to Gazz
The Very Best of Mates
Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.
I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.
There's also a 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)
Fate
Chapter 168 - Pyre
Albus Dumbledore's POV
Saturday 17th July, 1994 (Headmaster's Office – Night)
"You've had quite the eventful few days, Sebastian," Albus noted, stroking his beard. "And, I would be lying if I claimed that tales of your 'adventure' didn't bother me deeply." …Bernard Koch… I have heard this name many times before, but even I did not suspect such barbarity to go unpunished in Magical Germany. "However, saying that, I am going to deny your request, for I am no assassin, and neither are your fellow Order members. The fact that you already sanctioned the murder of Maximillian Weber is… regrettable." He is nothing more than a pawn, a man trapped by his own office. His death will change nothing in Magical Germany. Conrad Rask will simply replace him with another puppet.
Sebastian blinked, there was a desperation behind his eyes that Albus had never seen before. "…Regrettable? You can't be serious… He protects people like Koch and Rask! He is in their pockets! I know how this game works, I play it myself, and-!"
"Yes, you do play it," Albus interrupted, his expression hardening. "I fell victim to your cunning once, when I asked you to deal with the Werewolf army Fenrir had assembled, and I've learned from my mistake. You will say anything, do anything, to get what you want, and what you want is for me to invade Magical Germany on your behalf. You want to wield the Order like an assassin's blade, knowing all too well that we do not claim to right all the wrongs of the world." He leaned forward, forcing their eyes to lock. "Tell me, Sebastian, how are you any different from Bernard Koch?"
"I don't rape children, damn you!" Sebastian hissed, outraged at the mere implication. "I don't-!"
"Exploit them?" Albus provided, giving his guest a reason to pause. "You exploited the Centaur children, remember? You murdered them simply to break their parents' spirits. The companies you eagerly invest in exploit Muggle children for free labour all over the world, don't they? Chocolate, shoes, toys, clothing, tiles, glass, paper, and a million other products, are built by the hands of children, but you, and your fellow investors, reap all the rewards. You and Koch both spoil the souls of others to empower yourselves, and the only difference between you two is that you do it all from the comfort of your manor, of your study. So, just because you were finally forced to look upon the ugliness you create, I'm meant to throw away everything I believe in and go on a rampage?" He could feel his ire rising, warming the room steadily. "Shall I destroy you, as well? If Bernard Koch is so deserving of my wrath, then is Sebastian Greengrass not? And, why stop there? Shouldn't I just murder every despot, every flesh-merchant, every 'businessman' like yourself? I could, if I wanted to, and none of you could ever hope to stop me, but I don't want to. Why? Because it would change nothing… Others like you would swiftly fill the void, and the wheel would keep turning and turning, crushing those at the bottom so someone like you can enjoy every luxury you can dream of." He drew in a long breath, dousing his righteous anger with calming reason. "The only way this wheel will ever stop turning is if men such as yourself take a stand against it. I wasn't born to hold you all accountable, that's something only you can do."
Sebastian averted his gaze, his breathing a little heavy and his mouth dry as a bone. "…I am not like him…"
Albus raised an eyebrow, studying the man across from him keenly. Whatever he wanted to show me in the Pensieve, I'm glad I refused. If I hadn't, then I might've done exactly what he wanted me to do. Still, this terrible situation cannot be ignored. Rask and Koch are keeping each other in check, and if one of them falls, the other will be unleashed. They must be eliminated together, long before Tom can reach them. Under him, their cruelty will only increase, as will their dominion. He will use them just as he uses his other 'allies', as weapons meant only for destruction. Is this why the Americans are so eager to weaken the East? Because it is so corrupt that only fire can cleanse it? A startling thought… Tom might not even realise the spark he's unwittingly lit, or, perhaps, that was always his design. A king of ash is still a king, is he not?
"…Please, you must help me," Sebastian broke the silence, looking up. "If Magical Germany falls into the Dark Lord's hands, his influence will spread through the surrounding countries like wildfire. The German Lords are powerful, more powerful than many of their neighbours, and through them, he will extend his reach tenfold." …I know.
"I will do what I can, of course, but caution and restraint will not be ignored," Albus gave a soft nod, raising his teacup to his lips and taking a long sip. I will need to share this ill news with Ronald and Severus, so that we may-…
The office was suddenly filled with blinding, orange light, as Fawkes finally returned from his service to Ronald. Albus, having grown used to the Phoenix's bright flames, did not look away, but when he saw the gore-covered figure Fawkes had returned with, the tea got caught in his throat. By all the Gods! What is this?! What's he done, now?! Coughing hysterically, Albus failed to regain his composure in time, resulting in Sebastian seeing Ronald for himself, his jaw dropping open in horror. Of all the times to barge in here-…!
"…Ron…?" Sebastian muttered, eyes ever-widening. "What… happened to you…?"
Finally recovering somewhat, Albus shot Ronald his most disapproving glare, waving at him to leave using Fawkes at once. The redhead, however, gave him an incredulous look in response, as if this was his fault. Gods be good, what am I going to do with you?! Who have you butchered, tonight?! How many?! And why come here?! What game are you playing?!
"…How many did you slaughter this time?" Sebastian asked, before looking back to Albus with realization dawning on his face. …Damn… "…You… fucking hypocrite! You knew about him this entire time, didn't you?! You knew long before I did, and you never said a word!" He slammed his fist on the table, gritting his teeth. "The Order isn't an assassin's blade, my arse! What do you call this, then?!"
Before Albus could respond, Ronald let out a merry chuckle, grinning from ear-to-ear. "My timing is shit as always, eh, Headmaster? What a shame… Guess we'll just have to sort him out, now, to protect our little secret." No!
The Champion of Fate moved forward quickly, his left hand clenched into a fist and murder flashing across his face, but Albus managed to erect a golden, hard-light barrier that cut them off from the approaching danger. "Get behind me, Sebastian, this instant! Hurry, you fool!"
Startled by the old wizard's reaction, Sebastian did as he was told, the pair of them gawking at a somewhat surprised Ronald on the other side. He was going to kill Sebastian, wasn't he? Just like that… Not even a moment's hesitation… Not even a shred of-…
"Oi, what are you doing?" Ronald asked, his surprise giving way to irritation. "Look at me, Headmaster, we can't let him leave knowing what we've been up to." We?! I don't even know what you've done this time around!
"What we've been up to?" Sebastian repeated, taking a step away from Albus. "…What exactly is going on between you, Snape, and Ron? Did you order him to commit the Carrow Massacre, too?" …What a mess… "How many has he killed under your watchful eye, you two-faced dog?!"
"…Headmaster," Ronald called out softly, gently tapping on the barrier. "Let me in, please. I'll take care of this."
Drawing in a sharp breath, Albus steeled himself in order to stop the situation from escalating into violence. "No, Ronald, not until you give me your word that you won't harm this man. We need him, remember? Now more than ever, we need him."
Ronald ran his left index finger along the barrier, before a black claw revealed itself from beneath his fingernail, sinking into the barrier like a hot knife through butter. …Impossible… The barrier jarringly became cracked all over in an instant, before simply falling apart and vanishing from the world. Albus couldn't hide his disbelief, his awe, but that didn't stop him from brandishing the Elder Wand as a final warning to his blood-thirsty friend. If he forces my hand, then I will have no choice but to forcibly subdue him. Fawkes will make that difficult, I'm sure, but I can manage it.
"I know we need him, Sir, but we can't just let him leave," Ronald tutted, unbothered by the wand aimed at him. "I was only going to beat him a little, knock him out, then you could wipe his memories." …I'm not sure I believe you, not with you dripping blood all over my floor. "The longer we take to act, the more work you'll have to contend with. Go on, turn that wand towards the degenerate, then we can have a nice cuppa and I can tell you everything about my most recent victory."
Albus' eyes darted towards the folders in Ronald's gloved hand, which could mean only one thing. "Once again, you've acted without alerting Severus and I of your intentions. Who have you murdered, now, Ronald? How many?"
"The Ancars, the Bissets, the Donadieus, and Lord Heroux," Ronald revealed, the calmness in his voice disturbed Albus more than anything else. "All the reasons I needed to end them are written right here, in these folders, but there are other advantages to be gained from their removal." …The Americans… "Now, can we take care of the intruder, please?"
"Who are you?" Sebastian finally found his voice, again. "The pair of you… Just who the fuck are you, really?" Albus lowered his gaze slightly, whereas Ronald adorned a semi-bored expression. "I… Wait… Ron, wait… I have something you'll want to see, but you must-"
"Silence!" Albus commanded, revolted that Sebastian was still eager to exploit a child just to get his way. "You will not speak another word, and you…" he looked back to Ronald, "…will go and wash the blood off yourself. Then, we will have a very long conversation-"
"No," Ronald refused, subtly shaking his head.
"Pardon me?"
"I said no, Sir. There won't be any long conversation about me doing my job. I don't answer to mortal men, not even those of your calibre. I didn't share my intentions with you, or Professor Snape, because I knew you'd just try to stop me, consequences be damned. I mean, honestly, you're the whole reason why the Loyalists are still breathing, remember? You're the reason why cockroaches like this cunt keep getting away with sodomizing the Earth, and its denizens, for endless profit." Disappointment etched upon his face, Ronald shook his head, again. "You'd even defend the likes of Lady Ancar, a woman who regularly bathed herself in innocent blood for kicks, simply because you think acting good makes you good. No… I didn't share my intentions because, the truth is, you're weak, soft, and you lack the fortitude to defeat an enemy like the Dark Lord. If you weren't these things, then I wouldn't have been chosen by Fate. Your leniency, your inaction, robbed me of my freedom, and helped form the monster standing before you." Albus blinked, a bottomless pit growing in his stomach. …Cruel words, but there is enough truth in them that they cannot be ignored… "Men like you condemned me just as much as Lord Voldemort did, that's the truth." He then looked back to Sebastian, turning his head and cracking his neck. "Give him to me, Headmaster, I will render him unconscious in a single blow. There will be no pain, I promise."
Instinctively, Albus reached back with his spare hand and grabbed onto Sebastian's arm. "Stay where you are, if you want to live." He felt the man tense under his grip, but he didn't let go. "Ronald, I want you gone from here. I will deal with this situation, for your benefit and for the Order's."
"Why do you protect people like him?" Ronald questioned in a monotone voice. "Why? Can't you see that that's exactly what they want? For someone like you to hide them from someone like me?"
"I'm protecting you both," Albus countered. "You love this man, despite the pain and suffering he's birthed, and hurting him would scar you further. You can lie to the whole world, but you can't lie to yourself, can you? Deep within you, there is still love for the mentor who gave you the guidance and devotion your own father failed to provide. If you do this, then that love will turn to poison, and the pain you feel now will be nothing compared to what comes next."
Ronald stared him for several moments, unfazed. "…Weak, just as I said. Over a century of experience, and you still haven't learned that some pains are worth enduring."
With that, he turned around and walked away, whispering to Fawkes before bursting into flames and returning to the Chamber of Secrets. Albus let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, letting go of Sebastian's arm. Gods, I barely got through to him this time. It's becoming harder and harder to keep him under control. At this rate, I really will have to lock him away in some tower. Not for his safety, but for the safeties of our enemies.
"…What just happened?" Sebastian eventually murmured, gawking at the back of the old wizard. "What was that?"
"You dare ask that? When you've done more than most to create it?" Albus couldn't help but frown, turning around. "That was your apprentice, driven by a determination not even a thousand men could muster, with a singular goal that he will achieve at all costs. He's you, only he fights for the world rather than for himself, and that fight has left his mind, and soul, in tatters. People like you did this to him, Sebastian, and… people like me… People like me, who are so lost in the pursuit of upholding our principles that we fail to see the destruction all around us. Perhaps, I should just hand you over to him? Before you can manipulate him into targeting Koch for you?" It would certainly endear me further to him, but then I'd be no different than you, would I?
"…Manipulate him…? No, I wanted to offer him a way to make peace between us."
Albus had to physically restrain himself from disintegrating the Greengrass patriarch, though even he didn't have the strength to mask his disgust. "You truly are the lowliest of men, aren't you? It doesn't even occur to you that you're, once again, trying to exploit a vulnerable child to get the results you want. Sending Ronald after Koch will end with Koch's untimely demise, yes, but Ronald himself will be forced to look into the abyss for the thousandth time. Does that not matter to you? Is his sanity currency for you to spend so you can sleep easier?" He exhaled, tightening his hold on the Elder Wand. "…He's still just a boy, and, although he's learnt to use his fear and rage as fuel, they still wreak havoc within him. If you can't understand something so basic, so human, Sebastian, then you truly are beyond saving. Get out of my sight. I will allow you to retain your memories, but only so they can serve as a constant reminder to tread lightly. If you so much as utter a whisper of what you've seen here, then it won't be Ronald's wrath that ends your miserable existence, it will be mine."
Still shaken by the night's bizarre events, Sebastian managed a meek nod before shuffling towards the fireplace, quickly preparing it and disappearing from Albus' severe gaze. …Merlin's Beard, was this his plan all along? To come to me, and upon being refused, go to Ronald directly. Why? Why take such a great risk to target a man as dangerous as Koch? Could it be that, on some level, he himself realises how similar he is to that monster? Is this newfound sense of justice nothing more than belligerent denial? Whether this is true, or not, I'm certain this isn't the last I've heard of this. Just looking into his eyes told me that he's not going to stop meddling in Magical Germany, for better or worse.
Sunday 18th July, 1994 (Snape Abode – Morning)
"…He's becoming bolder with every passing day, Severus," Albus sighed out, while the Potion Master simply stared at him from across the table. "I know teenagers push boundaries, that it's healthy for them to branch out, but, in Ronald's case, I'm not certain we should allow that. Last night, he showed up in my office covered in buckets of blood, not caring an ounce for who might be with me. What will he do tomorrow? Step into Diagon Alley carrying a severed head?" His dark-robed friend remained silent, still. "My approach worked, for a time, but, now, I need you to step in. I know you have your hands full with Draco, and with our business in Magical Russia, but I'm afraid I alone am not enough to keep Ronald in check, anymore. What do you say?" Silence was Severus' answer, his remaining eye permanently fixed on Albus. "…Why do you say nothing? You are acting most unusually, my friend."
At that, Severus stood up and left the small kitchen, returning moments later with a stack of familiar folders in hand. Those are-… "Have you read these, Albus?"
The old wizard stared at the folders in Severus' hand, Ronald's bloodied handprints still marring them. "…He came here before me, didn't he?" He knows me too well.
"Over fifty men," the Potion Master sneered, tossing the 'Ancar' folder upon the table. "And that was just the wife's work, her husband's businesses crushed the hopes and dreams of thousands of workers." He tossed another folder onto the table. "This one liked 'hunting' recently graduated girls, and his parents did everything in their power to hide his sick fetish." At last, he tossed the remaining folders before Albus. "Am I meant to feel sorry for these people? Am I meant to chastise Ron for doing this world a service? For delivering justice?"
"A service…? Justice…?" Albus repeated in a low whisper, taken aback. "Severus, he murdered them in cold blood, which is anything but justice. I thought you understood that."
"It's the only form of justice that works against these sorts of people," Severus said icily. "Are you truly naïve enough to believe that they'd ever be arrested? Or, even see the inside of a holding cell? Who would move against them, exactly? The puppets they placed in the French Ministry? The International Confederation of Wizards? Who, but Ron, would ever be foolish enough to challenge them? You certainly never did, and you're the most powerful wizard in the history of Magic."
"Is that what we're fighting for, then? To become like Lord Voldemort?" Albus countered, his expression stern. "We just kill without consequence, without mercy? Is that what you want Ronald to become? Just another monster lurking the shadows, preying on men and women he deems unworthy?"
"Do not twist my words, I never said anything of the sort."
"But you are supporting his darkest urges by justifying them."
"And you are allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement, ignoring the many reasons behind Ron's actions of late," Severus frowned. "I understand that you care for him, Albus, I would go as far as to say that even I share your fondness for the boy, but he's not just some boy, is he? Behind him stands a Goddess, and within his head lives a God-Eater! Perhaps, you should consider that before trying to force him down a path you find attractive?"
"What is the alternative, then?" Albus promptly asked. "We just let him do whatever he wants? In the last year alone, he's directly killed more people than most Death-Eaters. I don't even want to think about the people he's killed without our knowledge, though I am certain there are quite a few on that list."
"You asked what we're fighting for, yes? Well, I fight for the same reason as a decade ago. To pay for my countless crimes, and to protect Lily's stupid, arrogant son from her murderer. Never have I been an idealist, Albus, and you've always known that. You even value that about me, I'd wager, so why can't you accept that Ron isn't like you? He is the keeper of his own soul, just like the rest of us, and, given his circumstances, he's doing better than most at safeguarding said soul. In his shoes, I would've eaten a Reductor Curse long ago."
"I thought we were in agreement when it came to keeping Ronald in the light?" Albus stated. "You didn't see him last night, Severus… He didn't merely kill those Veela, he desecrated them. That much blood? He must've been knee-deep in their innards. Where is the justice in that?"
"I won't argue there, his appetite for violence has grown, but I already warned you that it would," Severus shrugged, sitting back down. "But his methods are effective, and, in this case, I agree with them. However, I will reach out to him, regardless, try and curb his worst impulses. Happy?"
"…Don't sound so enthusiastic, my friend, you might faint," Albus said dully. It appears that Ronald has influenced Severus as much as Severus has influenced him. Even I am not the same man I was before joining forces with Ronald. He is… charismatic. Enchanting. And wilful. It's often difficult to even disagree with him, as he has an answer for everything. I can't forget that, despite his ever-growing Magical prowess, words are his most powerful weapon.
"You need to come to terms with the fact that not everyone is fighting this war for your beliefs," Severus continued. "Ron isn't your puppet, and he sees and understands a lot more than he lets on. His admiration of you won't stop him from cutting you off if you get in his way." …He made it evidently clear that, for all his admiration, he has a rather low opinion of me when it comes to certain matters. I'd even praise him for his honesty, if his words didn't cut so deeply. "In your haste to protect him, don't push him away. That's all I'm trying to say. His own parents made the same mistake, remember? If he can cut ties with them, he can cut ties with anyone. Pick your battles more carefully, for all our sakes. Scum like these Veela are not worth defending, not when it'll cost you his trust. Get over it, and focus on what comes next." A bitter potion to swallow, but that's just like him, isn't it? This is why Ronald showed up in my office, I believe, to test me. Yes… He's not pushing boundaries, he's trying to get into my head, trying to discover reasons to begin ignoring my advice. If this is the case, then I must be very careful with my approach going forward.
"…Wise words," Albus admitted, nodding to himself, before smiling widely. "Parenthood suits you, Severus!"
"Get out of my house."
"Without even saying hello to Draco? That would be incredibly inappropriate of me."
"Then, wait here for the next few hours in silence," Severus suggested, turning his frown towards the ceiling. "The boy spends all night reading under the covers, and refuses to awaken until the sun has reached its zenith." And you allow this? Consider me pleasantly surprised.
"I suppose, in that case, I'd best be on my way," Albus rose up, his eyes darting towards to the folders for a moment. "…When he returns for them, and he will return for them, speak with him. Please."
"I already said I would, didn't I? Don't nag me, you crone."
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Sunday 18th July, 1994 (Hafren Forest – Midday)
Chief Zotair lay on his side, his breathing weak and ragged, and she found herself counting every breath with a heavy heart. He's getting weaker and weaker each day. I doubt he'll live to see the end of the month, even. A painful pang shot through her chest, as if a Centaur's arrow had pierced her ribcage. …This is not right. He doesn't deserve this. Even Director Reid can't help him, anymore. This is not-…
"…Gold-Hair…" a whimper tore her from her thoughts.
"Chief Zotair?" she quickly shifted closer, unable to stop her lips from quivering. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? Cold?"
His remained motionless, still fighting for every breath. "…Why… do you return…?"
"Pardon?"
"Your gentle heart… breaks… I hear it… Why do you… return?" he managed, coughing painfully as he finished.
She felt her eyes well up, but, for his sake, she kept her voice strong. "I don't want you to die alone."
Silence, dense and full of unspoken grief, fell upon them, until Chief Zotair finally summoned enough strength to speak once more. "…Where is… my mother…?" Should I tell him?
"…Preparing your…" she trailed off, clenching her hands and drawing in a shaky breath. Be strong for him, Daphne. He must be so afraid, and it's your turn to comfort him, just as he comforted you. "She is preparing your pyre. She wants to honour you as a true Chief, as the bravest of Centaur-Kind. Day and night, everyone is preparing to give you the farewell you deserve."
"…The farewell I… deserve…?" he croaked, followed by a feeble chuckle. "…I have done… nothing to deserve such… a grand farewell… My father was a Chief… not me…"
"You're wrong!" she blurted out, horrified. "Without you, hope would've died so very long ago! You gave up everything you had for your people! Everything! You deserve so much more than just a worthy farewell! You deserve-!" her voice cracked, and she impatiently wiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes. "…I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry my family did this to you… This is not right… I'm so sorry…" Damnit, keep it together! Get a grip! Control yourself! He doesn't need to hear-…!
"…You are blameless, kind girl…" Chief Zotair whispered, putting the last of his strength into the words. "…Meeting you… The Phantom… Healer Reid… The brave ones who… cleaned and fed us… I am glad… Peace isn't just… a dream… It is an… inevitability… I see it, now… Can't you? Look… It's right there… It was in front of us… this whole time…"
She followed the direction of his gaze, staring at the discoloured wall of his yurt with blurry vision. "…I see it, Chief Zotair. You're right, everything is going to be okay."
She looked back to him, and her expression immediately collapsed. He was perfectly still, now, even his laboured breathing had ceased, and, for some reason, the sight froze Daphne in time. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't even look away… She just stood there for what felt like hours, struggling to come to terms with how abruptly a man as great as him had been claimed by death's cold hands.
And, then, air invaded her lungs just as abruptly, cruelly dragging her back into reality.
"Chief Zotair?!" Daphne cried out, falling on her knees beside him. "Chief Zotair?! Can you hear me?! HELP! Help, please! He's not breathing!"
She was running, now, through the camp with wild abandon, shouting for Director Reid, shouting for anyone who had ears to listen. Next, she was standing in the entryway of Chief Zotair's yurt, whimpering and trembling as Director Reid shook his head despondently, and Chief Argenope let out a wail so raw, so primal, so full of pain, that Daphne had to cover her ears to protect her soul. London was by her side, after that, holding her by the shoulders and guiding her away towards the edge of the camp, whispering comforting platitudes in her ringing ears with every step. She wept into her soaked hands, she observed the commotion brought on by Chief Zotair's unjust passing, the warriors patrolling with their heads hanging low and the workers redoubling their efforts to prepare his pyre, she even cursed the blood running through her veins, but time itself remained irregular, passing her by in flashes of lucidity, until the sun began to set and she saw a head of red hair cutting through the camp. …He's come, at last…
Ron marched onwards with fierce determination, his stride stopping only when he noticed her sitting all by herself on a lonely stump, his expression softening despite his best efforts. …He's dead, Ron… He was there one second, and just gone the next… I couldn't do anything about it… He drew in a deep breath, as he so often did, before peeling his eyes away from her and continuing towards Chief Zotair's yurt. She followed after him without even commanding her limbs to do so, stopping only when she reached the entrance. Mutely, she watched Ron, Chief Argenope, London, and Director Reid whispering amongst each other, and, then, the Vampiric-Healer lowered himself onto his knees and began working on Chief Zotair's iron-mask. When he finally managed to remove it, his eyes grew to the size of dinner-plates, leaving Daphne with dread raging through her already-exhausted body. London was the first to look away, her hands clamping around her mouth as if she'd seen something that was forbidden from being described. Then, it was Director Reid himself, shutting his eyes and bowing his head in resignation. Chief Argenope and Ron, however, looked on, her expression hidden by her long, white hair, while Ron's was that of unadulterated rage. His hands clenched themselves into fists, his furious eyes grew wetter, the veins running through his neck and forehead bulged, and, before long, he was shaking as if he were caught in a blizzard.
Some part of her, some weak and pathetic part, was glad that Chief Zotair's true face was hidden from her vision, but another part of her, the part that had grown to respect and admire the man, battled fiercely to force her to move closer. She needed to see what the others had seen, she needed to see the destruction her blood had wrought, but just as she took one step forward, Ron's voice cut through the haze she was mired in.
"…Put it back on," he commanded, already having regained his composure. "Don't let anyone see his face."
"But his vow has finally ended," Director Reid stated, his voice barely audible. "Surely, he deserves-"
"…My son's champion has spoken," Chief Argenope interrupted sombrely. "…Put the mask back on… I don't-… I won't allow our people to remember him as some rotting corpse… He was a hero, and he'll be remembered as one."
Panic struck her, and, in a desperate attempt to see what he truly looked like, she ran for Chief Zotair's ever-still body, but Ron had already thrust himself in her way, grabbing her by her arm and rooting her in place. "NO! Ron, let go of me! I need to-!"
"No," he refused strongly, dragging her away with no effort on his part. "You're done here. It's over."
"Unhand me! Chief Zotair!" the only faces she managed to glimpse before being escorted out were that of Director Reid and London, both of them haunted and pitiful. "Ron, you have no right! Let me go! I was here this whole time! Where were you?! Doing whatever you want, as always! I was here! I was with him! I deserve to see-!"
"Stop it," he shook her, hard enough to turn her blood to ice, before swiftly pulling her into his embrace. "You don't deserve to see it, Daphne. You don't deserve the nightmares you want to bring onto yourself. I won't let you remember him like that." Nightmares…? Was it really… that awful…?
She felt the fight leave her limbs, her face buried in his chest and his strong arms propping her up. "…He died so quickly, Ron… There was so much I wanted to say… So much I wanted to ask… How could this happen…?" …It's not fair! People like him don't deserve to die like that! He deserved so much-…!
"Everyone has their time, Daph," Ron whispered softly, tightening his hold. "When his time came, he wasn't alone, and that is a gift few ever receive. I'm proud of you, more than I can even describe. You were so strong, stronger than you've ever been, and I'm so proud of you."
She wasn't sure if it was his words, or his gentle tone, or the fact that she'd spent the whole day crying, but Daphne felt increasingly more lethargic, closing her red-rimmed eyes and breathing in his ever-pleasant scent. …I didn't even get to say goodbye. I never told him how much our talks meant to me, and, now, I will never get the chance. It's just not fair. He deserved better, they all did. Why is the world so cruel? How can something like this even happen? It's not fair…
Ronald Weasley's POV
Sunday 18th July, 1994 (Snape Abode – Late Night)
"You should've let her see his face," Snape commented, his expression ice-cold. "It would've fixed the message into her permanently."
"It would've made her vengeful," Ron shook his head lightly, the rage was still bubbling in his belly. "I don't want her to become like me, Sir. I want her to be a better version of me." This world has enough monsters, already. Producing another would be pointless and foolish.
Snape cocked an eyebrow, his gaze falling onto the scratches on Ron's neck and cheek. "She did that? Why haven't you healed yourself?"
"I'll do it, but later," Ron shrugged, drawing in a long breath. "I came here for my folders."
"Your trophies, you mean."
"Give them back to me."
Snape rose from his chair and left the kitchen, returning many moments later and planting the folders before the younger Slytherin. "Albus told me you arrived in his office drenched in blood. It bothered him immensely, and he's asked me to talk to you." I figured he would. "Did making them suffer ease your pain, Ron? Tell me the truth."
"…No," he admitted, he wanted to do it again and again and again.
"It never will, that's something I learned too late," Snape whispered lowly. "Killing my father didn't bring my mother back, it didn't erase the memories of him throwing bottles at my head, nor the sound of his wretched voice calling me a 'freak'… No, all I wanted to do was to bring him back and kill him, again. Albus made me realise that indulging in one's pain doesn't heal it, it only makes it more powerful." Yeah, I already know that, but what else am I supposed to do? Ignore the suffering of others because I pulled a shit hand? I'm not looking to heal my pain, you fools, I want to inflict it on those who truly deserve it.
"I'm going to come for Draco, tomorrow," Ron said, getting out of the chair. "Daphne is going to need her friends, and he might not admit it, but he's one of them. Do you have any objections?"
"None, he needs an outing." An outing?
"Then, I'll pick him up around midday," he turned to leave, gripping the folders close.
"…I've shed innocent blood, same as Greengrass, same as those in your folders," Snape remarked, stopping him. "Don't I deserve death, too? Or, am I to be spared because you've taken a liking to me?" That… is a good question. Why should he be exempt from the code? The Headmaster, as well. He's guilty of ignoring evil for far longer than Mary, and so many others, and yet, I don't hold that against him half as severely as I should. Hm… I'm not being a very fair judge, am I? I'm being biased towards those I respect and value, and that can't be allowed. No one is sacred, or special, so why ignore the failings of these two? Am I that shallow? Didn't I promise myself to not be that way? Isn't the Champion meant to stand for a higher ideal?
"The day you stop proving your worth, the day you stop being who you are now, I'll kill you," Ron shot a sincere look back. "Fair, no?"
Snape smirked, strangely enough. "I will hold you to that promise, Ron, though, I'm certain, I won't need to. I believe you." In some ways, he understands me better than the Headmaster. He understands that my word is final. The Potion Master then fixed up his expression, looking to the shabby clock. "It's getting late, and Draco usually slithers out of his den at this time to get himself an extra serving of cakes and pastries. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Professor."
Blaise Zabini's POV
Monday 19th July, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Near Midday)
He wiped the sweat from his brow, pocketing his wand. My technique is definitely improving, as is my stamina. How long have I been at it, today? Three hours? Feels like no time has passed at all, though. I can finally see how Ron gets lost in his training for hours on end, it's actually quite a bit of fun. Satisfied, for now, Blaise began making his way towards the manor, and, along the way, he took his time admiring the many statues decorating the gardens. Some of these are new, aren't they? She's got better taste than her parents, I'll give her that. The baroque works are especially breathtaking. Which artisan did she commission, I wonder? No one from Magical Britain, surely. I'll have to ask her when I see her next. When he finally reached the porch overlooking the gardens, he spotted Pansy and Tracey having tea and cakes under the shade, silently enjoying each other's company. Were they watching me from up here?
Pansy smiled lecherously at him, making him roll his eyes. That answers that. "You've worked up such a sweat, Blaise! Come, join us! I had the Elves prepare cold lemonade for you!" That does sound enticing, given the heat. Fine, I'll bite.
He took a seat next to Tracey, smiling gratefully when she poured him a glass. "Thank you."
"No… Thank you…" Tracey rasped, playfully winking at Pansy, who burst into giggles. I won't even ask what they were talking about before I showed up.
"You really ought to let me hire you a trainer, Blaise," Pansy said, while he chugged down the sweet refreshment. "You know, like the one Ron had? What was her name? Madam Robards?"
"Madam Roberts," Blaise corrected, putting the glass away. "You're thinking of Gawain Robards, the Deputy Head-Auror who threatened us in St. Mungo's." Just another reason to become a powerful wizard, so no one, not even an Auror, can threaten me and my friends.
"Right," Pansy snapped her fingers. "So, should I send her a letter?" You're already doing so much for me. It feels wrong to ask for more, despite what you say.
"I'm certain she's got more important matters to tend to," Blaise shrugged, subtly eyeing Tracey. She's looking better by the day, and happier too, thanks to Pansy. That makes me glad, she took Theo's situation harder than the rest of us.
"See that, Trace?" Pansy asked in a dull tone. "See how he refuses without saying no? Honestly, talk some sense into him, because he's starting to vex me."
"You're vexing… Lady Parkinson…" Tracey tutted, shaking her head disappointedly. "Shame on you."
"Lady Parkinson needs to learn to take no for an answer," Blaise shrugged, again.
"I hired myself a trainer, remember?" Pansy pointed out. "They're really not that expensive, Blaise."
"Belly-dancing, and Duelling, are two different things," he countered.
"Belly-dancing?" Tracey grinned scandalously, looking to Pansy. "You never mentioned… that to me, you… harlot."
"She even brought me an outfit during my first lesson," Pansy smiled smugly. "I'll show it to you, later. It's not something my mother would ever let me wear, believe me."
"I bet," Tracey sniggered, before giving Blaise a knowing smirk. "You sly dog." It was only a matter of time before I got called a pervert just because I live with one.
"Should you be talking this much?" Blaise asked, his expression blank.
"Do you watch… them?" Tracey asked, wagging her eyebrows. "When they practice?" Don't be absurd.
"Do you?" Pansy hummed, batting her eyes. You know I don't.
"No," he answered firmly.
"Is that a… blush on your… cheek?" Tracey continued, poking his face. …I don't blush. "Don't deny it… Blaisey-waisey…" Don't ever call me that, again.
"Not very fun to tease, is he?" Pansy 'sighed', and the brunette nodded her agreement. "He just sits there with that dismissive look on his face. Gods… Why couldn't I live with a boy who realises what an opportunity he has on his hands? All alone in this big, lonely with a beautiful girl, and he hasn't even tried to peep on her? Pathetic!" I won't even dignify that nonsense with a response.
"Maybe, I should… move in?" Tracey suggested. "To make things… more interesting?"
"Really? You'd do that?!" Pansy beamed, her burst of excitement catching Tracey off-guard. "Think about how fun it could be if we all lived here, together! The group, I mean! I've even prepared rooms for you lot, already!"
Tracey let out a nervous chuckle, shifting in her seat. "I was only… joking, Pans… My parents would ne-… never… allow that…"
"…Oh," Pansy promptly deflated, while Blaise silently observed her. "Of course, I was just offering… We could still have a sleepover, though, right? I'd make sure your injury is properly tended to at all times, you can give my word to your parents." Is she starting to feel lonely? Can't say I blame her, seeing as I haven't been the most sociable guest.
"A sleepover would… be exciting," Tracey agreed, sounding a little guilty. "The party was… loads of fun, but… I'd like it if-…" she abruptly stopped, pain flashing across her face. "…Ow… Sorry…"
"Don't worry, I get what you mean," Pansy smiled pathetically. Don't start crying, now. Tracey doesn't need that. "Um… Do you need your bandage redone?" Tracey opened her mouth to respond, but, in the end, merely shook her head. "Okay, you just let me know whenever. I've been practising, same as Daphne." I should change the subject.
"Speaking of Daphne… Heard from her yet?" Blaise asked.
Pansy blinked at him, inhaling sharply. "She did send an owl, but she didn't tell me what she's been up to. Only that she's really busy taking care of 'family business', whatever that means." Ron, Daphne, Theo, Millicent… Our group is growing smaller and smaller. "You don't think the Aurors are giving her trouble, do you?"
"I doubt it," Blaise answered. "They've put out arrest warrants on some of the most powerful people in the world. I doubt she's even on their radar." Lords Yaxley, Bulstrode, Nott, Malfoy, Rowle, even Flint… As well as Ladies Crabbe and Goyle. And yet, not a single mention of my mother, the worst of all of them.
"The Minister really is on a warpath, isn't she?" Pansy muttered, looking down at her half-eaten lemon slice. "Theo's not coming back to Hogwarts, is he? Not with his father in so much trouble with the Ministry…" I somehow made the conversation even more grave, but that's hardly surprising. I'm not very good at small talk, never have been.
Blaise shot Tracey a quick glance, before shaking his head. "No, I don't think he will. Most likely, he'll be sent off to Durmstrang, where Nott Snr doesn't need to worry about him being used by the Ministry as bait." Not to mention, he'll be away from Ron's 'treacherous' influence, but I shouldn't say that. I don't want them to think that any of this is Ron's fault.
"Ron won't let… that happen…" Tracey interjected, her mirth completely gone. "You'll see… He will help Theo… somehow…"
"Wherever they've run off to, I don't think it's within Ron's reach," Blaise stated. "I'm not trying to be overly pessimistic, but I also don't want you two to think that Ron can solve every problem. It's not fair to him, especially right now. His time is running out very quickly, remember?"
"Oh, but it isn't, Blaise," came Ron's voice, startling them. What the fuck?!
The redhead was standing by the entryway, observing them with a soft smile on his pallid face. Right behind him stood Malfoy, yawning and scratching his eyes as if he'd just woken up, wearing creased robes.
"Ron!" Pansy squeeled, forgetting herself upon seeing him, as usual, and running over to hug him. "What a surprise! You finally got my letters!"
"I could get used to this sort of welcome," Ron chuckled, squeezing her hard enough to make her grunt. "What about Draco here? Does he get the same treatment?"
"If he asks nicely," Pansy giggled, pulling back and giving Ron her brightest smile. She's doing it, again.
"…Please, don't touch me," Malfoy groaned, dragging himself to the table and plopping down on a seat. "Gods above… I'm so tired…"
Blaise cocked an eyebrow at the platinum-blonde, had Ron dragged him out of bed? Why? Why show up all of a sudden? And with Malfoy to boot? Something's happened, I can already tell. Is it about Theo and Millicent?
"Are you here about… Theo…?" Tracey asked the question on Blaise's mind, looking hopeful.
"Hello to you, as well," Ron teased, letting Pansy drag him to the table and plant him beside her. "I do have information on Theo, but that's not why I'm here."
"Is he okay?" Tracey quickly asked. "Have you… managed to reach… him?" Give him a chance, will you? He just got here.
"He's in Magical Hungary, alongside all the 'Pure' who have been outed as criminals," Ron told them, dragging Pansy's lemon slice towards himself. "I can't reach him, Trace, none of us can, because he's hidden by the Fidelius Charm. For now, he and Millicent can only depend on each other." I figured as much. Tracey was visibly upset by the ill news, even more so because the redhead barely sounded concerned. "Sorry, it's out of my hands, now."
"Can't the Ministry help?" Pansy asked, her eyes darting towards the brunette. "The Hungarian Ministry, I mean?"
"I doubt they even know that war-criminals are seeking refuge in their country," Ron shrugged, taking a bite from the slice. "…Sour…" He pushed the plate away. "Oh, and even if they do know, they won't investigate. Yaxley probably has them on his payroll, already. You know how it works, right?" We do, but you could, at the very least, sound like it bothers you. "Both Theo and Millicent have a choice to make, and we can't make it for them. The only way they'll get away is if they reject their parents' fucked up beliefs. Otherwise, they'll either end up in Azkaban, or dead in some ditch."
They rest exchanged worried looks, and even Blaise felt his stomach sink. I hate to admit it, but he's right. We know who's out there, and what's coming, so the window to make this vital decision is closing fast. I just hope Theo can finally grow a spine and stand up to his absentee father. If anyone can help him do that, it's definitely Millicent. She's always been good at calling him out.
"You said you didn't come here to talk about Theo," Blaise broke the silence. "So, why the sudden appearance?"
Ron studied his sweat marks and dirtied clothes, his lips quirking upwards for a second. "I'm here to talk about Daphne. She needs you lot right now, badly."
"She does?" Pansy asked, taken aback. "Why? What's happened?"
"That's a very long, depressing story, but you need to hear it," Ron drew in a sharp breath. "Around a decade ago, there was this Centaur Tribe…"
A Harrowing Tale Later
Ron had finished around five minutes ago, and, still, no one had said a word. Blaise himself was still stuck on the fact that Daphne, the most prim-and-proper of them, had been trudging through the mud, and shit, to give aid to a group of disease-ridden Centaurs. She even dug them a latrine… Daphne Greengrass dug a latrine… I can't even begin to imagine that, let alone believe it happened.
"Why didn't she tell us this herself?" Pansy was the first to speak. "Circe's Breath, she must be so devastated."
"'My father murdered an entire generation over a spot of land' isn't exactly easy to admit to," Ron answered, leaning back in his seat. "She won't say it aloud, but she's terribly ashamed of both her parents, and the last thing she wants is for her friends to be ashamed of her."
"None of this is her fault, though!" Pansy exclaimed. "It's obviously her father's! Ugh! I can't believe I ever found him handsome! What a disgusting creep!" We'd heard the rumours about him all our lives… Guess they were really true, in the end. Even my mother never got in his way, and, now, I understand why. He's far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.
"She was there… when this Chief… passed away?" Tracey managed, teary-eyed. "That's so… awful. How could Lord… Greengrass do some-…? How could he?"
"Shouldn't you alert the Aurors about him, Ron?" Blaise asked, his brow furrowed. "It sounds like you're protecting him, despite his crimes."
"The Aurors won't be able to do shit to him," the redhead replied plainly. "And I'm not protecting him, I'm saving him for later." Saving him for later? What's that supposed to mean? "Forget about him, all right? I want you lot to be there for Daphne. She needs comforting, she needs to be reminded that she's not as alone as she's probably thinking she is."
"You're not coming with?" Malfoy questioned. "You keep saying 'you lot', which implies that you're excluding yourself." He's right.
"She's living with my parents, and I can't set foot in that house," Ron shrugged. "I made a vow, and my word is final. I'll do my part my own way, in my own time." You can't set foot in your childhood home? Why? What's happened between you and your-?
"What did they do, now?" Pansy asked, a knowing look crossing her face.
"We're talking about Daphne, not me," Ron said sternly, checking his Rolex. "…I need to get going, anyway. I'll prepare the floo for you, go make sure that Daphne's looked after. Draco, you can go home before sundown, I don't need Professor Snape sending me Howlers. C'mon, get up and let's go."
"I can't go without taking a shower, first," Blaise pointed out. "I'm in no state to present myself to anyone."
"Grab some clothes, you can take a shower there," Ron ordered, already on his feet. "I don't have time to spare, and I'm not leaving the floo-channel open. It's not safe." …Right… "Oh, and don't bring up Theo and Millicent, got it? I'm talking to you, Trace. Keep it to yourself. She has enough to contend with as it is."
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Monday 19th July, 1994 (The Burrow – After Lunch)
"Daphne, dear, I think that plate is clean enough," Molly said gently, waking her up from her stupor.
"Oh… Of course," Daphne cleared her throat, placing the shining plate on the drying rack. "…Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."
The Weasley matriarch gave her a sorry, but fond, smile, only she and her husband had been made aware of Chief Zotair's passing by London. The other Weasleys, and even Astoria, had already figured out that something was terribly amiss, but aside from being very friendly with her, none of them had asked any questions, something that she was quite grateful for. I don't even want to think about what happened yesterday. Every time I do, I start tearing up. What's going to become of the other sick Centaurs now that Chief Zotair is gone? Merlin… I always knew that we were only delaying the inevitable, but it still hurts so much. How does Ron keep doing this? Where does he find the strength? I just can't… I wish I could just disappear… Or, forget everything, at least… She swiftly pinched her eyes, sniffling. …Not again, please…
"Oh, love, come here," Molly pulled her into an embrace, squeezing her tight. "My sweet girl, just let it out. Don't hold it in for another second."
"…I don't know what I was thinking…" Daphne sobbed, her heart clenching painfully. "…He was such a wise man, Mrs. Weasley… So kind and gentle, and he's just gone, now… Because of my family… I will never forgive that…" I will never forgive either of them! "…I keep thinking that I should've never gotten involved… What's wrong with me? Am I a bad person, too?"
"No!" Molly swiftly responded, kissing the top of her head. "You're honey itself, my love! You went there every day, sat by his side every day, and that must've meant the world to him! Don't you ever doubt that!"
"…But I-I-I still want t-to forget him…"
"That's natural, I promise," Molly whispered, rocking her. "But you won't, I know it. You'll always hold him dear, because that's who you are. It's okay to hurt, Daphne, there's nothing sinful about it. You just have to let yourself feel what you must, or it'll become poison in your veins. Just let it out, no one is here but me."
"R-Ron wouldn't l-let me see his f-face," Daphne coughed out, trembling all over. "H-He dragged me away, even though I h-hit him."
"He was protecting you."
"…I still hit him, a lot…"
"And yet, he protected you all the same."
"W-What am I supposed to do, now? I can't tell Astoria… I can't tell anyone… No one will know how m-much they all suffered…"
"We know, and we won't forget them," Molly stroked her back. "And, in time, as my husband always says, the truth will out. But, for now, it's up to you to keep their memory alive." …She's right. I can't forget them, like the rest of the world did. I won't! I'll remember them, so nothing like this ever happens again! I swear it, I'll always remember them!
She leaned into Molly, allowing the older witch to comfort her without caring for whoever was listening, and, it felt good. She wasn't alone, all of a sudden, and that made her burden so much easier to carry. For as long as she sobbed and trembled, Molly held her as if she were blood, rocking her gently and stroking her fine hair with love only a mother could provide. Eventually, her sobs came to a stop, but she didn't let go of Molly, not until the older witch pulled away with a shocked gasp. …W-What is it? She followed Molly's gaze to the opposite end of the kitchen, going wide-eyed when she saw her friends loitering about. What are they doing here?!
"Sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Weasley, but we're here to visit Daphne," Pansy spoke for the group, all of them 'smiling' at her. …Ron… He gathered them all up, didn't he? Of course, he did… He said he'd never come back here, but he never said anything about them. Did he tell them everything? Probably, judging from their awkward smiles.
Somewhat embarrassed, she quickly wiped at her eyes, despite knowing that they'd all seen how upset she was. "Um… What are you lot doing here?"
"We came to visit you," Pansy reinstated, forcing on a smile. That's so creepy.
"…She knows…" Daphne sighed out.
"…Oh…" Pansy's expression eased, her posture slouching. "…Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. Can't be too careful, right?"
Molly gawked at them, before shaking her head clear. "Strange children, all of you. Come in and sit down, you must be hungry."
"Can I take a shower?" Blaise asked blandly, holding a shirt and a pair of trousers. …What? "Please?"
"Um… Yes…" Molly muttered, raising an eyebrow. "It's upstairs, remember?"
"Pardon me," Blaise swiftly departed, embarrassed despite not showing it. Ron must've just dragged them here without debate. Just look at Draco, he has bags under his eyes and his robes are messy. His robes are never messy.
For the first time since Chief Zotair's passing, she felt a little elated. …He doesn't want me to be alone. He's always looking out for me, no matter what.
"Daphne, go sit with your friends," Molly instructed, having caught onto what was happening. "You barely ate anything for lunch. Go on, all of you! Sit down! I'll put together something that'll fill your bellies!"
Two Hours Later
"I fold," Tori rolled her eyes, and immediately, Daphne leapt for her cards. "OI! What are you doing, you big-tittied cow?! Get off me!"
"A full house?!" Daphne screeched, holding Tori's cards to her face. "You're all letting me win, aren't you?!"
"Maybe, I just don't want to win?!" Tori argued, while the others averted their gazes.
"Don't want to win?! You?!" Daphne laughed scathingly, waving the cards about. "I don't need anyone's pity! Play fair, or don't play at all!"
"They told me not to win!" Tori snapped, pointing at Tracey and Pansy. So, it was you two all along?! I should've known! "It's not my fault you're an abysmal player! I was just trying to be nice to my sister!"
"What about you?!" Daphne looked to Ginny, who opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Traitor! "UGH! All of you?! Really?!"
"…You're not the one Weasley will manhandle, are you?" Draco muttered under his breath.
"What did you say?!"
"…Nothing…"
Daphne threw Tori's cards in the middle of the pile, narrowing her eyes. "…Honestly, just play properly. I'm not some pathetic sow who can't handle losing in cards." What did you do to them, Ron? Seriously?
They all exchanged looks, not saying anything until Draco broke the silence. "You know what it's like to wake up to Weasley stroking your face, Greengrass?" Um… What…? "I didn't even get a chance to scream before he started laughing like a madman, then he ripped my covers off and dragged me off the bed by my ankles! Give me a break, damn it!" Tori burst into laughter, and, soon enough, the other girls, including Daphne, joined her, though Daphne did her absolute best to stifle her inappropriate giggles. "…The day I've had… Go on, laugh it up… I just want to go home, but I can't, because I'm terrified he'll be waiting for me in my closet…"
Even Blaise smiled at that, struggling to keep his quivering lips in check. Draco, however, was not amused in the slightest, shaking his head in submission. Ron can be a bit much, can't he? Still, that's just so damn funny! I love his evil laugh, it's the cutest thing in the world to me! I wish I was there, I bet you screamed like a girl the entire time! A pang of guilt struck her, sobering her up swiftly. …Why am I laughing? That doesn't seem… right, does it? No… I shouldn't be laughing at a time like this. I should be mourning, instead… Mourning for a man who the Wizarding World would be oh-so-eager to forget. She cleared her throat and composed herself, letting her friends enjoy the moment while she put it out of her mind. Tori noticed her change in demeanour almost immediately, pouting at her without her noticing. …He died only yesterday, and, already, I'm laughing? I'm feeling loved and cared for? That's just so selfish, isn't it? What's the matter with me? Is my blood just tainted, is that it?
"I won't let you win, if that's what you want," Tori whispered, shifting closer to her. "I wasn't trying to undermine you, sister. You're just acting really weird, and you're scaring me." Daphne blinked at her, there was genuine concern behind her beautiful eyes. …Tori is my blood, and she's as pure as snow, despite being a trickster… No, it's not us, it's them… They're what's wrong with the Greengrass Bloodline… "Daphne? What's wrong? You can tell me. I won't share it with anyone."
"…It's… grown-up stuff…" Daphne muttered pathetically. "Don't worry about it, I'm okay. It'll pass, I promise." I'm sorry, but I'm not strong enough to tell you. Not right now.
Tori was no fool, nor did she hide her disappointment with being lied to. "…Okay, then… Whatever… I know this is about those Centaurs… I'm not stupid, and weak, like you think I am… Both you and father…"
"…Tori…" Daphne felt mortified, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"You two okay?" Pansy asked, looking between the sisters.
"We're fine," Daphne answered, while Tori rolled her eyes, again. "So, can we finally play a game where I'm not destined to win? Ron's not here, all right? Just act normal, please." They want Tori and Ginny to leave, I can tell just by looking at them. Tracey's been staring at me like I'm dying this whole time.
"I'll shuffle," Blaise declared, his gaze lingering on her. Don't you start, as well, please. I need you to be the rock you always are.
"We don't really play Wizard's Poker in Gryffindor," Ginny randomly announced. "Especially not with sweets on the line."
"Really?" Tracey asked, alarmed. "What do you lot… do, then?"
"Talk about Quidditch," Ginny answered, making Draco perk up. Ugh! Quidditch! "We discuss teams, their performances, that sort of stuff. Oh, and Gobstones! We like Gobstones!"
"Millie loves Gobstones," Pansy grinned. Mills… She's all by herself, isn't she? "She even joined the Gobstones Club!"
"She's got a wicked throw, everyone says," Ginny nodded fervently. "Where is she? Did she really leave Hogwarts? Everyone says that her parents sent her away?" The Hogwarts rumour mill… It's more accurate than most people realise. I could've done more for her. I could've made her realise that Ron was terrified for her, rather than targeting her. Gods… Why didn't I listen to him? Why didn't I see his fears until it was too late? I was so convinced that I was right, so convinced that he was being malicious, but he was just scared witless. Scared, and completely alone. The boys knew he was right, but I doubt they ever told him that. They just wanted to prove their loyalty, they never saw his anguish and dread. And, now, she's just gone, just as he predicted, and none of us can get her back. I know Ron well enough to know that, deep down, he must blame himself, which is why he's so reluctant to even mention her. I did that to him, more than anyone else.
From the edge of her vision, she saw Blaise give Pansy a threatening look, which made the raven-haired witch go wide-eyed. "Um… Shuffle for us, Blaise! Yeah, go on!" …Yes, let's keep lying for our parents' sakes. Our parents, who are the worst sort of people alive. Even Tracey, whose parents are honourable, decent people, is caught in our mess.
"Wait for me, I need the restroom," Daphne lied, knowing she was on the brink of breaking down, again. "Um… I'll be right back, okay?"
She shuffled out of Ron's room before anyone could protest, ignoring the incessant banging of the Ghoul in the attic, until she was by the stairs, where she leaned against the wall and let out a pathetic whimper. Why is everything so shit, shit, shit?! How can anyone stand this world?! So full of lies, so full of death! What's going to happen to Millie? To Theo? What am I supposed to do?! I'm already so done with it all!
"Strange way to… use the restroom, isn't… it?" Tracey rasped, walking over. "Daphne… Ron told us ever-… Everything." …I figured…
"My parents are monsters," Daphne couldn't even bring herself to deny it, anymore. "…The sort out of a children's tale, Trace. What am I going to tell Astoria?"
"Right now, you should… just focus… on yourself," Tracey advised, hugging her from the side. "Why didn't… you tell me any… of this? You didn't have to… go through… it alone."
Daphne hugged her back, leaning on her for support. "…I'm so ashamed… Not just of my parents, but of myself…"
"Don't say that," the brunette urged, squeezing her. OW! Merlin's Beard, Tracey! Ease up! "You're a… good person, Daphne. The best, actually. Your parents don't… get to take that… from you. No one does. You're the sweetest… kindest girl I… know. Really really."
Her words reminded Daphne of Mrs. Weasley's, soothing her in her time of absolute need, but her comfort wasn't to last, as the pair were interrupted by the Weasley matriarch herself. "Ah… There you are, Daphne…" The Slytherins parted, turning to face the visibly-bothered woman. "Um… Go get your sister, will you? Your mother is here to take you two home."
Daphne blinked, her stomach sinking to the floor. "…She is?" No…
"I know this is sudden, but she's insisting upon it," Molly sighed out, whereas Tracey shifted about awkwardly. "Maybe, if you tell her that you want to stay here, she will listen, but, until then, my hands are tied."
"Astoria doesn't understand what's going on, though," Daphne mumbled, lowering her gaze. "She'll want us to go home, and, if I refuse, she'll start asking questions."
"You could just… tell her," Tracey suggested, earning disapproving looks from both Daphne and Mrs. Weasley. "…Or, not…"
"She wasn't supposed to come back this soon," Daphne said pathetically, exhaling. "…I don't want to go, Mrs. Weasley. Can't you just tell her to leave?"
"I tried, but she is your mother," Molly put a hand on Daphne's shoulder. "You can come back here whenever it suits you, dear. Spend every day here, if you want, you'll always be welcome." Days, but not nights? There's no way I can keep Tori away from the truth, is there? Unless, I just go back and stay there… Pretend like everything's fine… But, if I do that, then I might as well forget that Chief Zotair ever existed… "Daphne, you have to decide, now, before your mother decides for you."
Overwhelmed, but unable to avoid her responsibilities, Daphne made her decision with bitter resolution. …They'll get what's coming to them, eventually. I can take solace in that, at least.
"Mummy!" Tori threw herself at Mary, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist. "You're finally back! I missed you so much!"
Mary laughed, holding Tori's head tight against her bosom. "I missed you, too, my devilish imp! Oh, I've thought of nothing but this moment for weeks!" She then looked towards Daphne, who had elected to linger in the back with her and her sister's luggage. "Come here, love! The picture in my head isn't complete just yet!"
The absolute bliss on her mother's face filled Daphne with disgust, and, despite her best efforts, she couldn't hide that feeling. "…You said you'd be gone for longer."
Mary's smile wavered, confusion and hurt seeping in. "…Your father and I hurried our business so we could return to you two." You shouldn't have.
Behind Daphne, all over the stairs, stood her friends, most of their gazes cold and judgemental, similar to her eldest's, and, from the corner of her vision, Mary also noticed that Molly was equally unwelcoming. At this point, her smile was completely gone, realization had wiped it away mercilessly, and all she could do was tighten her hold on Tori in the hopes of keeping her youngest from coming to a similar realization. I can't believe I spent so long trying to emulate a disgusting, two-faced bitch like you. For Tori's sake, I'll come with you, but I will never show you an ounce of respect ever again. You don't deserve it. You, nor the murderer you share a bed with. Damn you both for what you did to Chief Zotair, and countless others, just to increase your wealth and status.
"We'll take these to the living room," Blaise volunteered, nudging Draco.
The boys carried the trunks away, and Daphne decided to follow them before her growing anger made her do, or say, something ill-advised. When it rains, it pours, doesn't it? Her showing up here a day after Chief Zotair's passing is no coincidence. The Universe itself is trying to give me a sign, I'm sure of it.
"You might want to ease up on the death glares," Draco suggested, planting Tori's trunk beside the fireplace.
"What would you do in my shoes?" Daphne asked promptly. "If you found out your parents were the worst sort of people, how would you react?"
"I already did, remember?" Draco said coldly, making her realize the callousness of her question. …Right… Sorry… "People are complicated, regardless of what Ron might tell you. She is your mother, so you owe her more than just your loyalty… You owe her your very existence. Be mindful of that, always."
"By that logic, I should return to my own sainted mother," Blaise cut in. "Let her feel whatever she's feeling, Malfoy. Her situation is not even remotely like yours." What am I feeling? Honestly, I don't have a word for it. This feeling… It's new, and all I know for certain is that I can't let it wither away. I need to hold onto it.
"So, you're really leaving, then?" Ginny asked, having followed them with the other girls.
"For now," Daphne nodded half-heartedly, smiling apologetically. "I'll write to you, I promise."
"…Sure," the redhead didn't hide her disappointment. "…You could also visit, if you want. It'd be easier. For you, I mean. Owls take time to travel, and all that."
"I'll visit, too." Any reason to come back here, I'll gladly take it.
"You could just come with me," Pansy offered. "Make up an excuse to stay until the break is over."
"I need to see this through," Daphne told them, steeling herself. "I can't just ignore it, can I?" Ron wouldn't, so neither will I.
Mary, Tori, and Molly, entered room at that, and the sheer excitement on Tori's face felt like a dagger in Daphne's heart. She's wanted nothing more than to go home since we left Hogwarts, not that I can blame her. She shouldn't have to deal with the fact that our parents are monsters pretending to be humans. For her sake, I should be mindful of when I choose to show my… whatever it is that I'm feeling.
"Ready, mother?" Daphne asked, putting on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Almost…" Mary said, turning to face Molly with Tori still attached to her hip. "Thank you for taking such good care of them. There weren't any… complications… were there?" With Tori, you mean? None, because of Ron. Remember him? He was a part of our family, until you showed your true colours.
"Not a single one, no," Molly answered, her tone having none of the warmth it usually did. "They are brilliant girls, both of them. Brilliant, and very healthy."
Mary gave a slow nod, a little perplexed. "…That's good to hear."
"Bye, Mrs. Weasley!" Tori grinned. "I'll miss cooking with you!"
"You can come back anytime you want another lesson, dear," Molly smiled at the little girl, pinching her cheek. "Be good, now, okay?"
"I'm always good!" Tori lied blatantly, making Molly laugh.
"Thank you, again," Mary said gratefully, heading for the fireplace and preparing it. "Astoria, please, let me just-"
"No."
"…Circe's Breath…"
The fireplace roared to life, and with one look back at Daphne herself, Mary stepped through the flames with Tori still hugging her. …Right, then.
"Thank you for your kind hospitality, Mrs. Weasley," Daphne gave the Weasley matriarch a curtsy, noting the downcast expression she now wore. "Please, extend my gratitude to your husband and sons."
"What about me?" Ginny asked, huffing. "I did your chores for-"
"Ginevra," her mother interjected. "Manners."
"I owe you more than just gratitude," Daphne turned to the younger witch, kissing her on the cheek. "You proved to be my favourite part of living here."
Ginny blushed, pleased but unsure of what to say. "…Thanks… You were pretty good, too…"
She collected the trunks, pulled them behind herself, and, after enjoying the homey, lived-in smell of the Burrow one more time, she followed her mother and sister through the flames, arriving in the Greengrass greeting room. Immediately, the smell of the Burrow was replaced by the aroma of sandalwood incense, her father's favourite, leaving her lungs feeling… lonely. Where once she took great pride in how large their greeting room alone was, Daphne now saw it for what it really was. …It's all a display, constructed to show off our power rather than be our home. It's no different than all the other great, gaudy manors out there, not counting Pansy's. Her attention, however, was swiftly trapped by those who stood inside the greeting room, as if waiting for their arrival. There was Spinny, of course, explaining her strange disappearance, and then, there were two others; a young, handsome wizard with jet-black hair and colourful rings on each finger, and an older witch who greatly resembled the Lady of the Manor, the only difference being the excess of brittle, grey hair. …This is them, then? Eric Schwarz, and my grandmother, Anna Maier.
"Look, Daphne, it's mum in a couple of years!" Tori laughed, pointing her finger right in their grandmother's face.
"Astoria!" Mary exclaimed, both horrified and unsurprised, somehow.
Schwarz pressed his lips together tightly to stop himself from laughing, whereas Anna gawked at the tiny witch grinning defiantly at her.
"Mother, I-" Mary started, but stopped as soon as the older witch raised her frail hand. Woah… With just a gesture? In mother's own home? Who does this old bat think she is?
"She looks more like her father than you," Anna said softly, her expression returning to that of indifference. "Save for her hair, she gets that from us."
"Then, it's a good thing my daddy's so handsome, huh?" Tori smirked smugly, resulting in Mary shutting her eyes in resignation. "Where is he? He's supposed to be here to greet me! With a present, too! Useless man…"
"That's enough," Mary scolded, visibly embarrassed. "Greet your grandmother with the due respect she deserves, now." She then looked back at Daphne, gesturing her to do the same. "Show her that I raised you right, daughter." No… I'm not your poodle, not anymore. I don't know this woman, and I owe her nothing. For all I know, her moral compass is as misaligned as your own.
"Spinny, take our trunks to our rooms," Daphne commanded, keeping her gaze fixed on Anna. "Prepare me a bath, afterwards, so I can welcome our guests in proper fashion."
Schwarz raised an eyebrow at that, whereas Anna actually seemed impressed.
"Why are you wearing so many rings, hm?" Astoria asked, now circling Schwarz and Anna.
"Just an aesthetic choice, nothing more," Schwarz chuckled, looking amused, again. "Would you like one?"
"Eric, there is no need for that," Mary sighed out, glaring at Tori. "Stop this at once, young Lady!"
"Gimme your favourite one!" the young 'Lady' hissed creepily. "Consider it tax for staying in my palace!"
Schwarz laughed, whereas Mary continued to deflate in shame. "Here you are, then, my Lady." He removed the silver ring on his middle finger, it bore the crest of his family, of his lineage, presenting it to Tori upon one-knee. "Will this prove sufficient?"
Tori ogled the ring from every angle, before grinning like a Goblin. "I like you! You can stay!"
She swiped the ring, ignoring her mother's protests. She's already pushing boundaries with them, seeing what she can get away with. They probably think she's just being childish, but if they don't say no to her, she's going to make their lives exceptionally miserable. Tori then jumped in front of Anna, scanning her unimpressed person from head-to-toe.
"Hm, what can I ask of you?" Tori mused, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, I know! I would like a hug and a kiss from you!" …What? Anna blinked, even Mary and Daphne were left surprised by the strange demand, but before any of them could say a word, Tori had wrapped herself around the alarmed witch, humming contently. "Welcome to Greengrass Manor, grandmother! I'm so pleased to finally meet you!" …You cheeky Hell-spawn…
Startled, Anna looked to Mary for an explanation, before hesitantly stroking Astoria's golden hair. "…Thank you, granddaughter…"
Tori pulled back, turned her cheek, and tapped it expectantly. "My kiss?"
Daphne fought the urge to snigger at her sister's antics, but Mary had had enough, stepping forward and dragging Astoria to her side. "Enough of this, young Lady. When your father returns home, I will be sure to tell him of your improper behaviour. Mother… Forgive my wayward daughters… They are-… They were in poor company, until this very moment. I will be sure to discipline them, accordingly." Poor company? You're pathetic.
Anna said nothing in response, her distant gaze lingering on Daphne in particular, before she simply turned and walked away. Schwarz, however, remained, once again forcing himself to halt his laughter.
"Your home is a lively one, my sister," he eventually commented, thoroughly entertained. She's not your sister, and you're not our uncle.
"Sister?!" Tori pulled a face, looking between her mother and him. "You don't look anything alike!"
"He is my mother's ward, and I've seen fit to allow him to refer to me as his sister," Mary told her girls. "You will, in turn, treat him with due respect." Due respect, due respect… You're a broken record. "Am I understood? Give him his ring back, Astoria, at once."
"He is owed nothing," Daphne finally spoke up, scanning Schwarz critically. "You are a stranger to us, and you will be treated as one until you prove yourself more than just another mouth to feed." Uncle? I spit on the very idea.
"Daphne Greengrass!" Mary snapped, making Astoria jump from fright. "How dare you?!"
Schwarz, however, laughed, much to Daphne's chagrin. "Sorry, it was like I was standing before Lord Greengrass himself just then." …Oh, you've no idea what an insult that is. "You are correct, of course. I will endeavour to prove my character to you before I dare demand your affection. Would you also like one of my rings? A small gift to commemorate our meeting?"
"Men have no business wearing that many rings," Daphne didn't hide her distaste, and, this time, the smile got knocked right off his face. "Conduct yourself properly in my presence, that will serve as proof enough." Gods, I already want to run back to the Weasleys. Here, I'm just a pretty face used to impress those I couldn't care less about. I can't unlearn that, now. I refuse to.
Ronald Weasley's POV
Monday 19th July, 1994 (Hafren Forest – Evening)
He stared at the mummified body of Zotair, placed upon an altar-like pyre, surrounded by burning incense, as the prayers of the Centaurs outside echoed throughout the camp, and he felt… nothing. Just another innocent light snuffed out too early. Just another victim of Wizarding-Kind's hubris. Just another good man murdered before he could spread his message. Just another casualty of the endless conflict between right and wrong.
"He must be burned, Ronald," Reid whispered from behind him, stepping closer. "You must make Chief Argenope see sense."
"Their prayers last for a week, don't they?" Ron asked in response. "What am I supposed to do about that, eh? Fight her, again?"
"His insides are already dissolving, though," Reid urged. "The toxin… There's nothing stopping it, anymore, and, soon, there won't be any part of him that isn't noxious. The toxic fumes will begin bloating him within a couple of days, and, in a week, burning him could spread the sickness in every direction the wind blows. His body is a gestating weapon, now, and it must be dealt with at once. I've tried to have everyone here who's passed under my care burned the very same night, and he cannot be made an exception. He cannot, because it's simply too dangerous."
Ron closed his eyes, exhaling. "…Fucking hell…" What a grim ending.
"She will listen to you," the Vampire continued. "He has to be burned to purge the sickness, and it has to happen now." He sounds desperate, which means the threat is very real, given who he is. Brilliant…
"You've told her this?"
"How do you think I convinced her to burn him, rather than bury him, as is their custom? They all need to be burned, it is the only way to end this. It's bad enough that Chief Zotair's people have already buried so many of their number, polluting this forest through their ignorance. I've seen the 'dead-spots' with my own eyes. Wherever one of them is buried, nothing grows around their grave. Nothing." A single vial of Nundu Toxin caused this much damage? I'd be impressed, if I wasn't forced to clean up this mess.
"The children who couldn't be saved… Will they be burned, as well?" this time, he felt a familiar spark of rage. "They won't be honoured as their ancestors were?"
"All of them, Ronald." …Fuck…
Once again, it fell upon him to make the most terrible of choices. "…I will convince her." She will hate me for it, but this tragedy must come to an end.
"I'm sorry it has to be you, but she respects you," Reid squeezed his shoulder, before leaving the yurt to continue tending to those still 'living'.
Alone with Zotair's remains, at last, Ron let his shoulders sag and his expression soften. "…Even in death, you're making things so difficult." He drew in a long breath, taking a step closer. "We didn't see eye-to-eye, like I'd hoped, but that was because you were a better man than me. You had the strength to forgive, even after a decade of suffering, whereas I… wanted to use you as an instrument of my vengeance. I'm sorry about that, not that my apologies matter, now. You saw me for what I am, you saw the madness ravaging my mind and soul, and you probably whispered the truth of my darkness in Daphne's ear, at some point or another, thinking yourself a step ahead of me. I want you to know that I don't hold this sin against you. After all, you cared about her, and you wanted her to tread upon her own path, rather than follow my tainted footsteps. In that, at least, we were united, even if you died before realising it." He placed his gloved hand at the edge of the pyre, his fingers tightening around a thick branch. "Lend me your strength, I beg of you. I'm so tired, Zotair… I've seen so much suffering that I've become numb to it. Lend me your strength, so I can see hope at the end of all of this. Lend me your strength, so I can keep fighting for both peace and vengeance."
"A wizard of your prestigious breeding would ask my son's remains for strength?" came Argenope's voice, interrupting him. "Miracles never cease when you are around, do they?"
Ron stepped away from the pyre, not sparing Argenope even a glance. "Strength is strength, why does it matter who it resides within? Your son had qualities that I used to hold dear to my heart, and I'm not foolish enough to ignore them, especially not when he made such a fine case for them."
"It takes great strength to stand up for peace," Argenope moved to his side, staring down at Zotair. "But peace cannot be won without bloodshed. My son failed to understand that, his suffering robbed him of his fight, but I'm glad one such as you will carry on his memory. May it serve you well, Fire-Hair."
"…The prayers have to come to an end," Ron told her, sensing her tense up as soon as he finished.
"No."
"There is no choice, as Reid has already explained to you. The longer you wait, the more danger you expose yourselves to. If we burn him in a week's time, the smoke will be poisonous. To delay is to spit upon his memory, you must understand that."
Argenope remained stubbornly silent for nearly a minute, but Ron could tell that she was trying to muster the strength to say something she was scared to give voice to. "…This is all my doing… My arrogance, my bitterness, my desperation to defy the Stars… I did this to him, Fire-Hair, me. Don't ask me to send him off without praying for his soul, not after all the pain I've put him through."
Upon hearing this, Ron finally looked to her. "How is this your fault?"
Again, she hesitated, gazing upon Zotair with a thousand-yard stare. "I loved his father, and, for a time, he loved me. We were mates, until the Stars foretold that I would die childless. His father soon abandoned me, taking up with another warrior who would eventually bless him with Zotair. I resented them all, but, most of all, I resented the Stars, so I did what my people are forbidden to do. I defied their wisdom and turned away from them… I even Cursed them, such was my monstrous pride. When Zotair's mother passed, I attempted to regain his father's love, but he sent me away, fearing that the Prophecy lingering over me would bring harm to Zotair. Again, I failed to accept my fate, growing more and more bitter as the lonely years continued to pass me by. Eventually, a wizard came to us, and…" she trailed off.
"Greengrass?" Ron asked softly.
"When my people begged me to kill the only man I'd ever loved, to wield the authority he now refused to, I chose their survival above my own needs and desires," she continued, her head now hanging low. "At least, I thought I did…But I was merely paving the way towards my most unforgivable sin yet… I adopted Zotair as my own, vowing to raise him as any loving mother would, and only too late did I realise that I was only trying to end my constant loneliness. It was never about Zotair, it was always about me. Me, and my selfish lust for a family…The Prophecy came true, Fire-Hair, as Zotair became afflicted with a sickness nothing could cure. When they brought him to my yurt, coughing and covered in a rash, I knew I'd killed him. His father had warned me years ago, and I-…" she stopped, again. …That's one shitty hand life dealt you. There is nothing more dangerous than Prophecy, just as the High Mother told me. Knowledge is, more often than not, a double-edged sword, and knowledge of what's to come… That can destroy more than just people, it can destroy the bloody world.
He felt a great swell of pity for the old Chief, and yet, he wouldn't let it deter him from doing his duty. "And, now, once again, you are putting your desires above what he'd want. He can't hear your prayers, Argenope, he's dead, but if you don't let him go, his suffering will spread. He wouldn't want that, and you know it." She said nothing in response, but he knew her resolve was broken in face of such a harsh truth. "I will allow you one night, that's it. When I return tomorrow morning, we put him to rest."
With that, he turned to leave, nearly reaching the exit before Argenope placed her large hand upon his shoulder. "Zotair informed me that you hold power over the Stars… That they are blind, and dumb, in the face of this power. I had my own people search for your face amongst the Stars, and they saw nothing. How is this possible?"
Ron turned his head slightly, looking at her over his shoulder. "I don't care much for destiny, or the Stars, or Prophecy, or whatever… I intend to write my own story. Perhaps, your people would fare better if they did the same? You can't see what's in front of you if you keep staring up at the sky, right?"
"That doesn't explain this power you wield," she pointed out. "Zotair was never meant to cross paths with Greengrass, nor his progeny, but with your coming, the will of the Stars was altered. Does that mean that…?"
"That what? Your own sentence has been altered?" Ron asked, and she gave a meagre nod. "Live your life and find out, Argenope. The past is set in stone, the future is unknown, so make the most of today. Break Fate's hold over your people's souls, and live free."
"…Free…" she repeated under her breath, pulling her hand away. "What is freedom, though, in this world full of wizards?"
"That's not something I can answer, so it's up to you lot," Ron shrugged. "Just know that if you choose to repeat the mistakes of the past, you'll remain doomed. Change, Argenope, is the true state of Creation, and those who don't change simply cease." The Void is nothingness, and nothingness will always be nothingness. Ironic, then, isn't it? That the Void mistakenly gave me the power to enforce Creation's will? "Until tomorrow, Argenope."
She gave him a parting nod, turning to face her son's body, again. "…Until tomorrow, Phantom."
Sebastian Greengrass' POV
Monday 19th July, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Night)
He reached for the decanter, sighing in defeat when he realised it was empty. …Figures… His gaze returned to the hundreds of documents piled onto his desk, from letters to invoices, he'd identified ninety-three separate enterprises that made use of Muggle child labour, and he was bound to find more the longer he looked. Farms in Africa make up the majority of such investments, so far. Dumbledore's words twisted in his belly like a hot knife, shame was simply not an emotion he was accustomed to enduring. …I'm not like that man… I'm not… I play by the rules set by the world… I don't rape children… I'm not like him… I'm just not… Even he knew he was in denial, however, for the longer he gazed upon his desk, the more he began to realize why Koch had managed to crawl under his skin when so many before him had failed. …I'm a version of him, though, aren't I? Driven by an endless, reckless ambition to stand above all others. I hold only myself, and my own, sacred. That's what Dumbledore was trying to tell me. The disgust he held within his gaze… I never thought him capable of such a thing.
"…Ron… Was it you who paved the way to the Order? Was Dumbledore merely following your commands? Was I always dancing to your tune, even as I gave you instruction? Were you the one pulling the strings all this time?" Sebastian closed his aching eyes, flashes of the blood-covered Slytherin bombarding his inebriated mind. "…Even Dumbledore can't control you… What a feat… But what does it mean for Mary and I? What becomes of us, now that we've lost your favour?"
Again, he already knew the answer… They were both going to die, and much sooner than they realized. The monster who'd slept in their house, sat at their table, basked in their love, was going to devour them, and it was only a matter of time. …I didn't know men like Dumbledore felt fear… Who could've guessed…?
On shaky legs, he rose out of his chair, grabbing a half-full decanter before returning to his work. Ninety-three, so far. I'm going to need to organise this mess before I continue-… The door to his study clicked open, breaking him out of his thoughts. Mary stepped in, her nose twitching from the rampant scent of alcohol, before she swiftly sealed the door shut behind her.
"Gods above, Sebastian, what happened in here?" she demanded, gawking at the terrible state of the ever-tidy study. "Is this what you've been doing for the last two days?! Creating a mess?! Getting drunk?! While I retrieved our daughters?! You didn't even join us for dinner! Explain this, now!"
"This?" he repeated, waving his hand about. "This, my dearest, is me… The most powerful man in Magical Britain, propped up on the backs of children." This is why we're going to die. "Go on, have a read. You won't be surprised, because you've always been my accomplice. Go on."
Mary gave him a strange look, a mixture of wariness and concern. "…Sebastian, what's happened? You haven't left this room since your visit to Dumbledore. What did he say to you?" If I told you that, then it wouldn't just be Ron we need to fear. "Love, say something… You are beginning to frighten me."
"…I want to say that this all happened without my knowledge, but the truth is that I knew… You, as well… We both knew, but we convinced ourselves that this is simply how the world works. Neither of us expected the world to change, but here we are… Waiting for the axe to drop on our necks…"
Mary walked over and grabbed a document, scanning through it. "…My word… Sebastian… As far as Madagascar?"
"So, it's the reach that bothers you, not the act?" he asked.
"…It's regrettable, but we can't micromanage how some farmer chooses to operate his banana plantation," Mary tossed the document away, her expression wavering. "A Muggle farmer at that, Sebastian. You know how they can be, despite their best efforts." Yes, Muggles have their limitations, but what's our excuse?
"We take the majority of his profits, so why not dictate who his labour force should consist of?" he asked in response, his stare distant. "…We choose not to, because we don't care for the means, only the ends…" Again, Mary faltered, opening her mouth to say something before promptly closing it. "…You're wearing make-up, I can see it. Around your eyes, to hide the bags. You can't sleep either, can you? Is it Koch?"
"…You're drunk…"
"Me too, my love," Sebastian continued, pouring himself another glass of Apple Brandy. "…What did Zotair say to me? The veil is lifting? Some nonsense like that… Bastard never mentioned how uncomfortable it'd be…"
"Put that glass away, please."
"…I can't stop thinking about that girl… The one who greeted us in Koch's den," he took a long sip, shuddering. "…Jäger killed her after he was done with her."
"…What?"
"I stepped over her tiny body," he confirmed, feeling sick to his stomach. "…Her parents are probably still searching for her, trying their best not to lose hope, but they'll never find her. And, even if they do, they'll be silenced. How many children on that banana plantation are the same? Most of them, yes?" He took another long sip, tossing the empty glass on the table. "You're complaining about me missing dinner? You think I want to share a meal with your arrogant, bitch mother, do you? She's been walking around with her nose stuck in the air from the moment she arrived. I risked life, and limb, to pull her out of Hell, and this is all the gratitude she can muster? Tell me, what was her reaction upon seeing her granddaughters? Thinly-masked criticism? Or, outright rejection? Which was it, Mary?"
"You're taking your anger out on me."
"Answer my question, or I'll make you," Sebastian threatened, and when she lowered her gaze, he knew. "…That fucking bitch… I should've just killed Koch when he was in front of me, damn the consequences!" Now, I have to chase him down, all the while he kills more and more people! What a wretched bargain we made!
"Our daughters weren't exactly decent to her, either," Mary sneered, marching away. "Your eldest was especially horrid!"
"It's their fucking house!" Sebastian roared, swiping the closest stack of parchment off his desk. "They have every right to treat her as the stranger she is!" Mary slammed the door shut as she left, while he collapsed in his seat. "…She won't take care of them when we're gone, Mary… They don't mean anything to her… What's going to happen to our girls without us?"
He stared up at the ceiling, the world was starting to spin, again, wondering what moves were left for him to make.
Ronald Weasley's POV
Tuesday 20th July, 1994 (Chamber of Secrets – Early Morning)
"It's a terrible idea," Ravenclaw Ron continued, sitting cross-legged beside Ron, who was focused mostly on finishing his push-ups. "The moment you walk into that manor, Greengrass will have you at his mercy. Is that what you want? To get yourself trapped?" Last ten… C'mon… "Stop ignoring me, will you? You know I don't like to be ignored!" Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One! Nice!
Ron plopped onto his chest, groaning. "…That's that, then. I can get on with my day, now." After I take a bath, that is. Worked up an awful sweat.
"Don't bother with going to Greengrass manor, all right?" Ravenclaw Ron advised. "Just go straight to that forest, burn Zozo's body, and move on with your life. There is no reason to risk your neck just so blondie can say her farewells. She was there when he croaked, remember? She's already said them."
"Gods, you're stupid," Ron rolled over, staring up at the rocky ceiling. "After all the work I've put into her, you think it's wise to just cut her loose, now? Pfft… This is why you failed your Cycle, I keep telling you. You can't play Chess with only the king, the pawns are just as valuable. What is Greengrass' most exploitable weakness? No need to answer, I'll tell you… His daughters, and, right now, I have his eldest turning against him. He's bound to act foolishly in response, to try and win her back, and that's when I'll trap him. Remember the shit he pulled during his search for Zotair's Tribe? He doesn't think clearly when they're involved, and that's my best bet to get my hands around his throat. Without them, he'll outfox me at every turn, plain and simple." He then sat up, stretching his arms and back. "I get that you're intimidated by Daphne-"
"What?!" Ravenclaw Ron laughed. "Me?! Intimidated by some little girl?!" Hit a nerve, didn't I?
"She holds too much influence over my emotions, we both know it," Ron stood up, jumping in his spot. That burn… Feels so good! "And that bothers you, which is why you keep whining about her in my ear."
"Not whine… I speculate, I strategize, I scheme," his ghostly counterpart sniggered, wiggling his fingers as if he were puppeteering something. "I'm in your head, literally!"
Ron's lips quirked upwards, amused. "Keep telling yourself that, mate."
"So, the endgame is still to wipe out Greengrass and his whore? Yes?"
"Yes."
"What happens when your girlfriend begs you not to go through with it?" Ravenclaw Ron asked, floating into the air. "What happens when she falls on her knees, all teary-eyed, begging you to spare her parents?"
"By then, it'll be too late, and, if she keeps insisting, then she'll be… dealt with," Ron shrugged. "But it won't come to that, believe me."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm much smarter than 'some little girl'," Ron answered, removing his boxers. "By the time I'm done with her, she might even report them to the Aurors herself. After that, I'll fully shift my focus onto Theo and Millicent. A whisper in Tracey's ear, a rumour shared with Pansy… A method for those here to send letters to those there… That Ruta girl… I'll have her act as a bridge of sorts, she seems eager to help Millicent. Step by step, I'll guide them all towards the road that'll keep them alive. And, none of them will ever suspect a thing, because to get to such a point, they'll have struggled and suffered, and no one wants their hardships to be undermined. They'll blissfully trot along the road I pave for them, all the while thinking themselves the masters of their fates." Just need to find a way to reach Crabbe and Goyle, too, and the hundreds of other children in similar positions. Easy, right? I'm going to go bald by the time I'm twenty, I already know it.
"I've taught you well, haven't I?" Ravenclaw Ron grinned, puffing his chest out. "I'm so proud of you!"
"You haven't taught me shit, save for how fucking grating my voice can be," Ron laughed, heading for the already prepared bath. "…Now, where is Marty? He knows I like to eat and bathe at the same time."
"Give him a break, he has to prepare a breakfast that could feed five people every morning."
"Compassion for Marty? From you? Again?" Ron smirked, dipping into the steaming tub. "Seems like I'm the one who's teaching you, not the other way around."
"Really? Give me my Spells back, then."
"Fine, we're teaching each other," Ron chuckled, sinking more and more into the soapy water. "…Actually, while we're still alone… There is something I wanted to discuss, something I'm sure you'll take an interest in."
"Dumblecunt?"
"Don't call him that, but yeah," Ron lost his mirth, letting his body soak. "The High Mother wanted me to show him myself 'covered in the blood of her people', thinking that he'd be fine with it, that he wants me to kill without conscience. She clearly doesn't know the man very well, not like I do, but, regardless, she was right in a manner of speaking. He meddles with my mind too often, tries to push his beliefs onto me too often… I'm not saying I don't appreciate him caring for me, for my soul, but sooner or later, he's going to get in the way of my work. He's going to oppose me, and that's not a fight I'll win." I might as well challenge the fucking sun, that's the gap between us.
"So, strike first," Ravenclaw Ron instructed, as if it were the obvious strategy. "Before I massacred Hogwarts, I took him out of the picture."
"With poison, like some coward."
"You want to go toe-to-toe with him? He'll turn you into dust." I could never bring myself to declare war upon him, but I also can't bring myself to ignore that he's guilty of Mary's sin of wilful ignorance a hundred-fold.
"I want him to understand that I need him, and not just as a mentor and friend. He has the power to do so much good, but he just sits on his hands while the world keeps sinking into the fucking toilet. I want him to realize that his ideas have failed, that his way doesn't bloody work… I want him to join me." Together, we could wipe out our enemies within the year! We could save thousands upon thousands if we just act!
"That's never going to happen," the ethereal redhead laughed scathingly. "I get it, you like the man, so you want to remain oblivious to what you already understand. Forget him, all right? Snape… Snape is starting to listen to you. He's starting to see that you're the only one doing anything worth a damn. What happens to a triumvirate when two people are always in agreement?"
"The third one is pushed out of power."
"There you go, then, my sweet killer."
"…Shame," Ron sighed out. "I know you're right, but I was hoping I would get through to him. I mean, I listen to him, don't I? I heed his wisdom time and time again, admitting my shortcomings no matter how much it stings my pride. Why can't he do the same for me? Why can't he understand that I'm not just any other mortal? That I'm divine intervention?"
"He doesn't respect you the way you respect him," Ravenclaw Ron whispered, floating close to his ear. "He wants you to become like him, to become 'wise and merciful', but he'll just make you weak and soft."
"You can say that without whispering it in my ear," Ron frowned. "No one can see, or hear, you, remember? Fucking gross…"
The ghostly maniac zipped in front of him, hovering just above the tub. "His mission will fail if yours succeeds, and he knows it. That's why he keeps meddling, all the while convincing himself that he's doing it for your sake. To him, you're a pawn, as is Potter, and all the others he claims to protect."
"Isn't that what I do, too?" Ron had to ask. "…I'm manipulating the girl I love so I can gain an advantage against her father…"
"Except, I know you well enough to know that, genuinely, you want her to escape her father's sins. And, even though you don't say it, I know you'll overextend yourself in an attempt to protect others like her, even those who constantly spit on you."
"…Maybe."
"No, no 'maybe', I know you will, because you're as stubborn as a mule."
"…Goat…"
"Of course, it won't be easy, it'll bring all manner of trouble to your doorstep, but you'll do it, regardless. Is that what Dumbledore does? Even now, after all your talks with him, he hasn't changed enough for it to matter. He has convinced himself that people will change on their own, that they'll do the right thing, because he needs to believe that. Otherwise, he'll never be anything more than a fool who got his own sister killed. He'll condemn the whole world just to escape that sordid fact, and we can't let him get away with it. At the very least, he has to be stripped of his influence, of his unchallenged authority. His time is over, it was over the day you turned eight, now all he's good for is his Magical might."
Ron nodded slowly, drawing in a long breath. "Professor Snape, then."
"Make the old bastard understand that even a king must bow to a God."
Marty cracked into the Chamber at that, carrying a large tray full of Ron's favourites. "Ah, Master is already in the tub! A thousand apologies! Marty never meant to make Master wait!" At last, my favourite moment of the day is here!
Ravenclaw Ron glared warningly at Ron, who grinned at his Elf. "No need to apologize, Marty, I'm just getting faster at finishing my morning exercises." With an approving nod, his ghostly counterpart vanished from the world of the living. "It smells delicious! Want to join me?"
"No, Master," Marty made his way over, levitating the tray before Ron. "Marty has already eaten."
"I was talking about the bath," Ron sniggered, earning himself an eyeroll. "Your loss, there's plenty of room for the both of us."
"Marty would rather not, given how sweaty Master tends to become." Wait a minute… He actually meant that, didn't he? Hurtful… "Marty shall, instead, prepare Master's suit. One fit for a funeral."
"The black one," Ron said as the Elf rushed away. "And the black overcoat! The one made of wool! It makes my shoulders look broader!"
Even as he casually swaggered through the Greengrass greeting room, his eyes remained as sharp as a hawk's. There were new faces everywhere, almost a dozen mercenaries that he didn't recognize, which could mean only one thing; Sebastian had made contact with the Death's Hand during his trip to Germany. Them, or another organisation. Damn, this isn't good for me, but it could prove useful for the Order. I'll just have to wait and see.
"Stop right there," came a familiar, raspy voice, Jürgen's tall figure marching into the greeting room with a thin, short, tanned woman by his side. "All of you! Wands out! This one doesn't take another step!" Here we fucking go with more nonsense.
Ron stopped and raised his hands, smirking. "Calm down, eh? I'm not here to start anything."
"That's Ronald Weasley, isn't it?" the thin woman asked, eyeing him critically. "He's bigger than they describe." Who is she? The captain of the new mercenaries under Greengrass' command?
"Bastard is growing like a weed," Jürgen sneered, stopping a few metres away from him. "You set up an ambush for me in that blasted forest… Don't think I'll forget that, or that I won't get even with you."
"Did you die?" Ron asked in response. "No? Then, get over it."
"Oh, I don't get over anything," Jürgen bared his filed teeth, looking him over as if he was made of steak. Should I show him my teeth? No… No need for any theatrics, today. I need to stay focused on retrieving Daphne. "One of these days, my face is going to be the last one you see. You remember that, boy. You remember it well."
"That's enough, Jürgen," the tanned witch said strongly. "We don't threaten our clients' guests, not unless we're being paid for it." She then stepped forward, ignoring her bloodthirsty comrade. "Rania Al-Sarari, at your service. What is your business here, Mr. Weasley?" Wow, she's quite polite. I like it.
"I've come to escort Daphne Greengrass to a funeral," Ron answered, giving her a greeting nod. "Chief Zotair's funeral, to be-"
"Finally croaked, did he?" Jürgen smiled sinisterly. "Good."
Ron shot him a bored look, before looking back to Al-Sarari. "Please, can you let the master of the house know I'm here? I need his permission before I can approach Daphne."
"He's not here, Mr. Weasley," Al-Sarari revealed. "Left an hour before you arrived, actually. Important business, he said." Liar.
"He left without either of you shadowing him, did he?" Ron asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Has he locked himself away in his study? Yeah, he does that, sometimes… Tells everyone not to disturb him, and, if any callers come seeking an audience, he commands his staff to tell them that he left an hour ago to attend 'important business'." Al-Sarari just stared at him, neither impressed nor concerned. "He was my mentor, so I know him very well. Please, don't waste my time. Just go and fetch him for me."
"Ronald? What are you doing here?" Mary called out, and Ron looked past Al-Sarari to see the Lady of the Manor fast approaching. "Both of you, give us some privacy."
Al-Sarari moved without hesitation, whereas Jürgen remained rooted to his spot. "I'm not going anywhere if this one is involved. It's only a matter of time before he does something stupid."
Mary was about to argue, but then she studied Ron's pale face and gave Jürgen an understanding nod. Ouch. My poor feelings. "Why are you here, Ronald? And why so early in the day?"
"I'm here to escort Daphne to Chief Zotair's funeral," Ron repeated, surprising her. "People are waiting on our arrival, Mary, so can we hurry this along?"
"I see, now," Mary whispered to herself, appearing as though she'd solved some great puzzle. "This explains why she's been so withdrawn."
"Withdrawn?" Ron scoffed. "She's suffering, and it's all your fault. You're the one who told your husband about the Nundu Toxin, I know it. His interest in Potioneering is non-existent. It was most definitely you, even though you knew what sort of man he is." Mary maintained her composure, but he could see the shame lurking behind her eyes. "Is that why you forced him to give them coin? Despite knowing that said coin would do nothing for them? To ease your own conscience?"
"When last we spoke, you sounded as though you wanted no quarrel with me. What is this, now, Ronald?"
"I'm not quarrelling with you, I'm merely explaining why Daphne is so 'withdrawn'. You, and your husband, can't keep hiding behind your pretty masks any longer. She's seen your real faces, and she's disgusted to her core."
"And what about your real face?" she demanded, her expression hardening. "Don't think for a second that I don't know what you're doing. You're trying to tear my family apart, to turn my daughters against me, and I won't let that happen. You're crossing a line, Ronald, one that you can't uncross."
"You've torn your own family apart, your lies and secrets, your unwillingness to do the right thing and turn in your husband… Don't blame me for your mistakes, Mary, be better."
"…You and Sebastian…" she muttered under her breath, vexed. "You're both driving me insane. Why can't men just sit down and talk? Is that truly so difficult? Why can't you ever choose peace? We were a family, Ron… All of us, and we could be, again, if you two would just set aside your egos."
"Ego? This isn't about ego… People are dead, Mary. Children. Now, that's a line you can't uncross, but you don't care about that, do you?" He then shook his head, knowing that he was wasting his time with her. "Go to Daphne's room, and tell her to dress for a funeral. I'll have her back here within a couple of hours."
"No," Mary refused adamantly. "No… Your scheming stops here, Ronald. Stay away from my daughters, and stay away from my family. We don't want anything to do with you."
Ron quirked an eyebrow, realising that, by denying Daphne the right to say farewell properly, Mary would only further damage her relationship with her eldest daughter. And, if I reveal that I came to get her, but was forced to leave, Daphne will never forgive Mary. This could prove very useful to me, but… it'll break Daphne's heart. She cared for Zotair, she learned a great deal from him, and, I think, she saw him as I once saw her Lord Father. If she's not allowed to attend his funeral, if Mary steals that from her, the pain bubbling within her will inevitably become an inferno, one that'll burn her up from the inside. She might even end up becoming more like me, as a result. Hateful and bitter, angry at the entire fucking world. He had a choice to make, again, one that could forever alter the path Daphne was treading upon. It would be so easy to just turn around and leave, eh? Let Mary suffer for her short-sightedness… Let this entire family burn in a pyre built from their terrible sins… The great and powerful Greengrass family reduced to ash through a single action…
"You said that I'm trying to turn your daughters against you, right?" Ron started. …I won't let her turn out like me. I won't let any of them turn out like me. They must be better. "Tell me, when Daphne learns that you're the reason why she missed Chief Zotair's funeral, what do you think will happen? You think she'll blame me? The person who walked into this pit of vipers to fetch her? Or, her mother, who sent me away? Think about it."
Mary studied his blank expression for a long while, eventually lowering her gaze. "…I wish we never met you. You're poison, and I can only hope my daughters see you for what you are before it's too late." …You're welcome, bitch. "Pandora and Xenophilius did, Remus too, as well as your mother and father, the very people who brought you into this world. Even I see it, now. Your endless ambition will ruin us all."
Ron bit his tongue, the mere mention of Pandora loathing the person he'd grown up to become cut deeper than he cared to admit. "Go and fetch her. Now." Even if the entire world turns on me, I'll just keep moving forward, because I have no other alternative. I will never stop, not for any reason, not until my work is finished.
"She won't answer her door if it's me," Mary stated, turning to leave. "You know where her room is."
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Tuesday 20th July, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Morning)
"What am I going to do, Ezekiel?" she whimpered, cuddling the giant teddy. "I don't want to be here, but I can't leave, either. I'm trapped, like some rat in a maze." Silence was her answer, so she tried her best to think of what counsel Chief Zotair would provide. "…He'd tell me to trust my sister, wouldn't he? To trust that she is strong enough to know the truth? He would tell me not to hide in my room like some coward, to face any hardship head-on. He would tell me to be brave, especially when I'm scared. What do you think of that?" More silence. "…You're right, he didn't know Astoria… He didn't know that her health is frail, at best, and that whenever she gets truly upset, her symptoms start acting up. Her Curse… I won't be the reason why she ends up in St. Mungo's, or worse. I can't do that to her knowing what I know now." She squeezed the bear, nestling her face against his fluffy neck. "Was my life really supposed to turn out like this?"
A knock at the door forced her to sit up, dread passing through her like ice-water. Oh, no… That must be father. He's finally back from whatever business he was taking care of. Gods, I'm not ready to face him, to even look at him. What do I do?
"This is Auror Astoria! Open the door, wench, or I'll break it down!" came her sister's voice from the other side of the door, filling her with relief. …Tori… She must be bored… "Open up! Or, it's Azkaban for you!" What? That's not how Magical Law works! Whatever… Might as well play along. It'll help pass the time.
Breathing in deeply, Daphne put on her best smile and made her way to the door. "Please, Auror, I'm just making myself decent."
"Do it faster, wench!" Astoria commanded. "What a loose woman! Disgusting!" Oi! Ease up, all right?!
Daphne unlocked, and opened, the door, yelping with wide-eyes when she saw Ron, and Tori attached to him like a parasite, on the other side. "Ron?!"
"Hel-" he started, but she slammed the door in his face. What's he doing here?! "…What the actual fuck?"
"Give me a second!" Daphne shouted, rushing to the closest mirror. My hair is all over the place! And my eyes are all puffy! Honestly, why does he just drop in without ever owling first?!
"Daphne, open the door," Ron ordered, sounding displeased.
"One second! Sorry!"
"I've seen you in your pyjamas before… For the love of Merlin, I've shoved my tongue down your throat, stop being so childish. We don't have time for this."
Tori began pounding on the door, howling like a starving wolf. "Let us in! Let us in!" Gods above!
Using nothing but her hands, she fixed up her hair as best she could, before buttoning up her pyjamas and applying lotion to her face. Okay… That'll have to do, I guess… Clearing her throat, she returned to the door, opening it wide and stepping aside. "Sorry about that."
Ron appeared genuinely irritated, whereas Astoria rushed into the room and leapt on Ezekiel. "Finally! If I were an Auror, I'd drag you straight to a Dementor for this insolence!"
Ron ignored her apologetic smile, stepping into the room and checking every corner, as if he were expecting her father's mercenaries to be guarding her. "You're going to need a shower before I take you anywhere. I can smell you from here."
Daphne's face flushed, feeling terribly embarrassed. "…I've been meaning to… get around to it…"
He looked her over, his cold eyes scanning her meticulously. "Chief Zotair's funeral is in thirty minutes. Shower, get changed into something appropriate, then we leave. You have twenty minutes."
Daphne blinked, visibly shocked. "…Today? W-What about the prayers? They're meant to take a-"
"He has to be burned immediately, the prayers will need to be said afterwards," Ron cut in, shooting a glance towards Astoria, who was now sitting up with a disturbed expression. "I'm assuming your sister never told you why she's been acting strange? Well, there you have it, Tori. She's grieving, but she refused to tell you because she didn't want you to worry. Isn't that sweet?" Both Greengrass sisters gawked at each other, lost for words. …What the fuck, Ron? "Go take a shower, Daphne, I'll pick out a dress from your closet. Now! You fucking Greengrasses have wasted enough of my time, today! Get a fucking move on, or I'll leave without you!"
With one last look in the mirror, Daphne stepped out of her room, unsure of what she was more nervous about… The funeral, or Ron's foul mood, but the latter was nowhere to be found when she saw him next, leaning against the wall with an easy smile on his face.
"Eighteen minutes," he quickly eyed his Rolex, winking at her. "That has to be a record, eh, Daph?"
She stared at him, reeling. "…You're not mad?"
"No, I just needed you to hurry," Ron shrugged, pushing off the wall. "Sorry, Daph, but I know you… You'd take an hour-long shower, spend another hour looking for the most appropriate dress, and the make-up to go along with it, and, then, you'd spend one more hour applying lotions and scents. We don't have the time for any of that, today."
She blinked, before frowning darkly. "You're an arsehole!" …But you're right… "I almost slipped and fell because I was in such a rush!"
"But you didn't, did you?" Ron asked in response. "Come on, then."
"…Wait," she shifted in her spot, flattening her black dress. "Is this appropriate? Be honest. I don't want to disrespect Chief Zotair in any way, nor his mother." …It's the last time I'll see either of them, after all.
"It's appropriate," he gave an approving nod, promptly sauntering away. "I couldn't find a veil, but I think you'll be fine without one." She rushed after him, straightening up her posture and breathing deeply. "We have time to visit Pans if you really want one, though. What do you think?"
"No… No, let's just… get this over with," she whispered, suddenly remembering that it had only been two days since Chief Zotair's passing. …Circe's Breath, yesterday alone felt like an entire week… I must've cried into Ezekiel's fur for hours… If it weren't for my friends showing up, I don't think I'd have been able to handle any of-…
"Astoria wanted to come with us, but I refused her," Ron said, not looking back. "I hope that's all right with you."
"It is," she nodded to herself. "…You shouldn't have mentioned Chief Zotair at all, though. I didn't want her to know, Ron, and you took it upon yourself to-"
"I helped you, trust me," he interrupted. "You'll see." Is that so?
Daphne pursed her lips, deciding not to argue on such a day. "Where is she, now?"
"With her language teacher, who showed up around ten minutes ago. Mary all but dragged her away from me." Mother's probably just trying her best to keep Tori in the dark, same as me. "Has Tori been to St. Mungo's? I need to know if the Silver Leaf is doing its job, Daphne, so get her there and report back to me."
"She's grown two full inches in the last month," Daphne told him. "I'm no Healer, but I don't think that's normal. The Silver Leaf is working, Ron, I just know it."
"Hm… She did look taller, and much healthier, but that's not enough proof. I want her properly examined, all right?"
"I'll figure something out."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, with Daphne's eyes glued to his back, until they reached the stairs, at the bottom of which stood Mary, Anna, and Schwarz. What's this, now? Come to gawk at the Marvel of Magical Britain, have you? Ron didn't even break his stride, offering Daphne his arm and supporting her on the way down. I still haven't spoken to either of them, and, honestly, I don't even want to. Schwarz comes across as too eager to please, and grandmother-…
"This is him, then, is it?" Anna asked, her nose crinkling as if she'd smelled sewage. …She wouldn't dare… "The Blood-Traitor everyone keeps talking about?" …She would… Ugh… "You really let this animal into your house, Mary? You let him eat at your table? As your equal?" Looks like someone is getting pushed down the stairs when I return.
"Mother, please," Mary sighed out. "Not in my house, not in front of my daughters. We spoke about this."
Ron stopped upon reaching the final stair, eyeballing Anna. "I can hit a lot harder than your husband, lady. Think before you speak, eh?"
Daphne, Mary, and Schwarz gaped at him, whereas Anna became as rigid as stone, her conceit swiftly replaced by a sobering vulnerability. Ron, however, didn't waste another second on her, tugging at Daphne's hand in order to lead her towards the greeting room. Inside, Jürgen, and her father's new mercenaries, were all lined up, creating a path that led directly to Sebastian Greengrass himself. …He's back from his business? No… Those robes… They look shabby and slept-in… That's very strange…
Ron stopped, again, groaning. "Can I please just fucking leave? What's with all the theatrics?"
Sebastian said nothing, at first, eyeing the joined hands of his former apprentice and his eldest daughter. "Two hours, Ronald. If she's not back in two hours, all these wands will come looking for her. Understand?" Really? And what makes you think I want to come back here?
"Yes, your majesty," Ron gave the most feminine curtsy she'd ever witnessed, making her lips quirk upwards, despite the palpable tension in the room.
"When you bring her back, we will have words," the Greengrass patriarch ignored Ron's goading, though his troops weren't so forgiving.
"No, we won't," Ron lost all his mirth. "I'm going to the funeral of a good man, you vile prick, a good man you fucking murdered." Daphne lowered her gaze, feeling both grief and shame in equal measure. "I've no more words left for people like you."
"I'm trying to make things right, but I can't do it by myself," Sebastian said softly, giving them a meaningful look. "Please, Ron… Just hear what I have to say, and, then, you can decide what happens afterwards."
Ron drew in a long breath, thinking for many moments. "Hmm… I have an idea. I will speak with you, hear everything you have to say, but only if Daphne here thinks I should." …What? He looked to her; his expression unreadable. "Well? What should I do, Daph? Do you still believe he deserves redemption?" …Ron… What the fuck…? Why would you put me on the spot like this?
All eyes turned towards her, none more intense than her father's. Daphne found herself struggling to think under the spotlight, let alone give a coherent answer, so she decided to let her heart do the talking, but the moment she opened up said heart, all she found within was pain. Chief Zotair's pain, Chief Argenope's pain, the pain of parents doomed to bury their children for over a decade, and the pain of those powerless to stop a calamity unleashed by a short-sighted, gold-hungry fool… She was overwhelmed by it all, but just as she went to refuse her father the chance he'd asked for, another, entirely different feeling made itself known to her.
"You wish me to repay death with more death?" Chief Zotair's voice rang in her head, reminding her of the very first time she'd ever seen him. "Once the veil falls completely, it is my belief that the world will become a kinder place."
Her limbs turned to stone, and she stared into her father's eyes, and, behind them, she saw something beyond the certainty with which he always carried himself. I promised myself that, in moments like these, I'd remember Chief Zotair's example, didn't I? He believed that father could still do good in this world, he believed that until the very end, that's the kind of man he was. One that never surrendered his hope in a better tomorrow. He might be gone, now, but I'll carry on his ideals. That way, some part of him will live on. That way, I can properly honour him.
"…No one is beyond redemption, Ron," Daphne made her decision, looking away from her father. "You'll speak to him after this, that's what I want."
Ron stared at her, before giving a nod. "Two hours, then. Clean up before I return, Sebastian, I won't speak to a man who has stains on his collar."
Some Time Later
The moment Chief Argenope set the pyre ablaze, whatever control Daphne had managed over her emotions shattered. She squeezed Ron's gloved hand hard enough to cause pain, pressing her face against his arm and sobbing into his coat. …Goodbye, Chief Zotair… I'll never forget you, I promise… Never…
"He's at peace, now, my dear," Director Reid whispered soothingly. "At long last, he's at peace."
She sniffled pathetically, pulling her head back to look upon the pyre once again. "…He's with h-his ancestors, now. R-Right, Ron?" The redhead didn't respond, silently and indifferently staring into the fire, as if he could see something within it that no one else could. "Ron?"
"Yes," was all he said, neither convincingly nor doubtfully.
Realizing that now was hardly the time to try and find comfort for herself, she used her spare hand to wipe away her tears. Ron promptly produced his handkerchief, never looking away from the fire, not even when she accepted his offer with a whimper. Are we going to have to leave, now? While the Centaurs resume their prayers beside his pyre? She subtly looked around, noticing that many of Ron's mercenaries were already departing. I guess, Centaurs don't believe in giving eulogies, then. That's a shame… I really wanted to learn more about him, about his younger, less-troubled days.
"Boss, we should give them their space, now," London leaned in from Director Reid's side, whispering lowly. "For their prayers, you know?"
"Take her," Ron ordered, letting go of Daphne's hand. "I'll be with you lot shortly." What? Why are you staying back?
"Come, Daphne," Director Reid placed his cold hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her to his side. "He'll catch up when he's ready."
She allowed the Director of St. Mungo's to guide her through the crowd of Centaurs, shooting one last look back at the pyre before it became obscured from view. A part of her wanted to remain behind with Ron, of course, to listen to the prayers and, if it didn't offend, whisper some of her own, but she understood that such a thing was impossible. For all their time together, the Centaurs wanted every wizard and witch gone by the time they finished the service. This would be the last time they were all together in one place, the last time they were even remotely friendly with each other. I wonder where Chief Argenope will go, now? Where can her people find any semblance of peace in this world ruled by Wizarding-Kind?
"Do you think they'll be all right, Director?" Daphne asked, despite already knowing the answer. "Chief Argenope and her people?"
"It won't be easy, but Centaurs are a hardy, resilient people," Director Reid offered her a kind smile. "They'll survive, I'm certain of it."
"They wouldn't accept any further help, would they? It would go against their very natures, right?"
"Indeed." …That's a shame. "I've lived a very long life, Daphne, and do you know what I've learned in that time? No one knows what comes next. No one. It might feel like you'll never see them, again, but that's not guaranteed. Life is a circle, not a line." A circle, and not a line? "Have you given my suggestion any more thought?"
"Your suggestion?" she blinked. "Oh… About me becoming a Healer?"
"Yes."
"I have, and I'd like to know more," Daphne answered, unable to deny the great purpose she had felt whilst helping him in his make-shift clinic. "Which classes should I take, Director? And how do I apply for an Apprenticeship with St. Mungo's?"
"Good on you, Princess," London praised, smiling brightly and patting her on the back. "You'd better help her every step of the way, Jon, or I'll know the reason why."
"You already take the required classes, as they're mandatory at Hogwarts," Director Reid started, greatly pleased. "Potions, Charms, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. You'll need to achieve Exceeds Expectations, or higher, on each N. E. W. T, which is no small feat, but you're an intelligent girl, so I know you can do it."
"I haven't even started fourth year, yet," Daphne pointed out, a little discouraged.
"Everything, and everyone, has their time, and yours will come too," he reassured her. That's what Chief Zotair said, as well. Be spring, right? "In the meantime, I can speak to Poppy Pomfrey on your behalf. She allows those who show both an aptitude and an appreciation of Healing Magic to learn from her in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. Now, she normally only settles for fifth-years, or higher, but she's been known to make exceptions for the exceptional."
She felt a strong sense of pride at the thought of being plucked from the pack by Madam Pomfrey, she'd always admired the woman for all the help she'd given Ron, Ginny, and Draco. "Thank you, Sir, I would be most grateful for that."
"You've earned it, my dear."
As they neared the edge of the camp, they all came to a stop. Daphne and Director Reid looked on in silent contemplation as London issued orders to the rest of the Death's Hand, organising their patrols and duties back at the Werewolf Sanctuary, and after ten minutes, or so, Ron finally re-joined them, though he hadn't come alone. Chief Argenope stood behind him, wielding yet another two-handed warhammer, much to Daphne's alarm. …Um, what's this, now?
"London, there's been a-…" Ron started, but stopped abruptly. "Ahem… There's been a change of plans. I need you lot to stay behind for a few more hours. Chief Argenope needs to make several more pyres, and I offered her your services." Several more pyres? For what? "Those who are praying can't be interrupted, and, apparently, there's going to be a storm, tomorrow. You lot will need to work fast, use Wizarding Magic and all that."
"…No…" Director Reid muttered, his expression collapsing. "…You can't do this-"
"It's already done," Ron interjected harshly, keeping his gaze low. "There's no other option, Reid. This is mercy. Try to understand that, please."
"What's going on?" Daphne asked, a question that was on everyone's minds, now. "Ron? Chief Argenope?"
"The sick who are still alive, they're about to be executed," Reid revealed before Ron could answer her, horrifying her to her core. "Isn't that right, Ronald?"
"What?! Ron, is that true?!" Daphne's blood turned to ice, and when he continued hiding his gaze, she felt as though the world had turned upside down. "…Why…?"
"My son's strength was all that kept them alive," Chief Argenope spoke up, shooting Director Reid a disapproving glance. "They came to me last night, asking for honourable deaths. It was my decision to grant them their wish, not Fire-Hair's."
"You can't agree to help with something like this, Ron," Daphne urged, appalled. "You just can't! Some of them aren't even teenagers, yet!"
"Boss, is there really no other option?" London asked. "I'm happy to come back here with a handful of men until the last of them-"
"Until what, huh?" Ron finally looked up, his eyes teary despite his fierce expression. "Until fucking what, London?! Until they die of disease and rot?! Until they fucking shit their organs out?! Go and cut the fucking wood, now! I don't fucking pay you for your fucking ideas, eh?! I pay you to do my bidding! Go!"
London wasn't the only one left reeling from his outburst, Daphne herself had instinctively backed away from him. …He looks murderous… How could he ever agree to help with something like this? Just as London began to move out, Ron raised his hand to stop her, drawing in several long breaths.
"I'm sorry for raising my voice, you lot," he addressed London and his soldiers, drying his eyes and steeling his expression. "Just remember how we found them, all right? Just remember that, because once Chief Argenope moves on, that's what they'll have to live through. Without Chief Zotair, things will be even worse, actually. And, no, London, you can't come back here with more supplies… They want us gone, just as much as they want to be gone themselves. This is their decision, and we've no right to decide otherwise. The last bit of help we can give them is to make things a little easier, right? Please… Go and help Chief Argenope's people, and make it quick. I'll give each one of you a bonus for this, I promise."
The mercenaries exchanged looks, until a broad-shouldered man stepped forth from amongst them. "No need for incentives, Mr. Weasley. Not this time. We'll get started straight away."
"Whatever you need, boss, just say the word," London added, looking both proud of him and sorry for him. "C'mon, you lazy sods! We'll start a bit further out, give those praying some room and peace!"
The mercenaries departed for the woods, leaving Ron, Daphne, Director Reid, and Chief Argenope behind. I can't believe this is happening… I can't believe this is how this entire thing ends-…
"The hearts of your people beat within your hands, Phantom," Argenope broke the silence, nodding to herself. "You are worthy, indeed."
"…I don't know about worthy, but I do what others are either too weak, or too proud, to do," Ron shrugged defeatedly. "Just make their deaths quick, please. Quick and painless, this is the last thing I'll ever ask of you." …No…
"You have my word," she promised, moving around him in order to meet his gaze. "And, you'll also have this." She presented him with the warhammer, which was almost as tall as Ron himself. "I had it crafted for Zotair when I adopted him. It was my dream to train him when he was strong enough to wield it, just as my father taught me. It has collected dust in my yurt for too long, and it is too fine a weapon to not have seen combat. Take it." Daphne and Director Reid exchanged surprised looks, whereas Ron straightened his posture and grabbed the handle with both hands. "Priyashná Lokùth Di Amvá."
The Centaurian Runes carved into the ebony handle began to glow golden, and Ron winced as his left hand seized up. "…What's this? What did you do?"
Argenope let go of the warhammer, taking a step back. "It is bonded to you, now, through my people's Magic. When you have need for it, it will find your hand. May it always strike true, may it be wielded with honour, and may it rest when its work is done. Goodbye, Ronald Weasley. I hope our paths cross, again, someday. You will always be welcome to feast with us." She then looked to Director Reid and Daphne, giving them a respectful, parting nod. "Farewell, friends of my son, I wish you both good fortunes."
With that, she left to re-join the prayers, leaving Daphne with terribly conflicting emotions rampaging through her heart. So, that's it, then? More death… More loss… More heartbreak… This is how it all ends?
"…Forgive my outburst, Ronald," Director Reid sighed out, pinching his eyes. "I… forgot myself in the moment." Why are you apologizing? This is horrible. "I am sorry."
"You're a Healer, Reid, you took an oath to save lives, not to stand by as they're taken," Ron whispered, tightening his grip on the handle. "It's all right, this was my decision. Your conscience should remain clear. I um…" he sniffled, his jaw clenching so hard that Daphne feared he'd break his teeth. "…This was me, okay? My decision, my responsibility. I kept it from you because I'm… selfish. A right piece of shit. That's me." …Ron… "…Go on, now. Go back to your hospital. I'll take Daphne home and finish things here on my own."
Director Reid lowered his head, letting out a shaky breath. "…Where did you find all this strength, lad? Just who are you, exactly?"
Uncertain, and still shaken, Daphne remained silent as the two of them met each other's gaze. …I could never make such a decision, could I? I wouldn't want to… There are still children here, many younger than me… Did they ask for this, too? And Ron… He took on this entire burden on his own shoulders? Just to spare the rest of us? How does anyone do that? How do they carry on afterwards?
"You've earned my trust, Reid," Ron put his gloved hand forth, the warhammer hanging low in his left. "You're a good man, and I'm glad our paths crossed. Thank you for all your hard work, for your dedication to your craft. I won't forget this, I swear it."
Director Reid smiled fondly, taking Ron's hand and shaking it firmly. "If you ever need a Healer, come to me. I'll be insulted if you find yourself another."
Ron gave a nod, pulling his hand away. "…Thank you."
"And you," Director Reid looked to her, placing his cold hand against her cheek. "Don't think I've forgotten that it was you who recruited me. You have a friend in me forever, Daphne Greengrass. I look forward to mentoring you." Mentoring me? That's right… He will be my mentor going forward, won't he? I'm going to become a Healer.
Daphne managed a weak smile, blushing. "Take care of yourself, Sir."
Director Reid gave a nod, stepping away and reaching into his pocket. "You two have a Portkey?"
"I have one, don't worry," Ron answered, already staring up at the clouds.
Daphne watched silently as the Director left them, her smile fading away the moment he was gone. "…I suppose, we should get going, as well…"
"What do you think of my decision?" Ron asked her, not sparing her a glance. "To let them commit suicide, I mean. What are your thoughts on that?"
Daphne blinked, taken aback. "…I don't know… It feels wrong to me…"
Ron swallowed thickly, sniffling, again. "…Yeah."
"What is going through your head, Ron?" she asked softly, growing evermore concerned. "First, you ask me whether or not you should sit with father, and, now, you ask me this? I don't understand… What are you doing? You're fucking scaring me… You're really scaring me…"
"Get used to fear, Daphne, because the world is a scary place," Ron told her, looking to her with a simple smile. "As for your father… I just wanted to make sure you were listening to Zotair, rather than just tending his wounds." …What? You wanted me to say yes?
"I thought you didn't believe in redemption, anymore. Why even give my father a chance? Why make it my decision, instead of your own?"
"…Redemption…" Ron rolled his eyes, looking to the warhammer in his left hand. "What a fucking stupid word. Utterly meaningless for most people, all of whom throw it around without even thinking it through. What is redemption, Daphne? Who deserves it? How does one achieve it? How do you even measure it? Have you given it any thought? No one is beyond redemption, you said… A bold statement like that, surely you must have a definition to share with me."
"I…" she paused, thinking of the textbook definition. "…Is this a test, Ron?" I just can't read you, anymore. I keep trying, and I keep failing. Just tell me what you want me to say, and I'll say it. "Why can't you just tell me what you're thinking? We used to tell each other everything."
"Because I've made peace with the fact that I'm alone, that I'll always be alone," Ron admitted casually, causing her face to fall. "And, because, I love you… I love you so much that I can't share my thoughts with you. I can't hurt you like that, Daph, because if you knew the truths I know… You would become just like me, and I will never allow that to happen." She was left utterly speechless, gawking at him with a stupefied expression. "So, what do you think of my decision? Be honest with me."
She continued to stare at him, and he waited patiently until she finally gathered enough wits to speak. "…I don't ever want to make such a decision, Ron, because I can't imagine any scenario where the end of life is a good thing. Life is… precious. It should never be dismissed so brusquely. It's worth fighting for, no matter what."
Ron drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes and smiling in a relieved manner. "…You really listened to him, didn't you? Good. I'm glad." You are? Well, then, I'm glad too. "You reckon your parents will mind if I take you out for lunch?"
"…Any other day, and I'd accept, but not today, Ron," Daphne averted her gaze. "I um… I need some time to… think… To process all of this…"
"That's fair," Ron nodded. "I'm just trying to put off my conversation with your father."
"Are you really going to listen to him?" she had to ask. "…Ron, you should know that, despite what I said, I haven't actually spoken to him myself… I'm too scared to… I'm so angry with him, so disgusted by his crimes, but… some part of me just wants this to be over… For everything to go back to how it was…" I hate that part of me, but I can't deny that it exists.
"Nothing can ever remain the same forever, save for the Void," Ron shrugged, confusing her with his odd words. "I will listen to him, because you asked me to listen to him, but, make no mistake, until he has paid for his crimes, he will never have my forgiveness. Today, I was forced to make peace with the sacrifice of children… I stood there, and I agreed to something that makes me so sick I can't even put it into words… And all of this is because of him. He has killed yet another part of me, Daphne. He's killed another part of me." She felt her eyes sting, and all she could do was lower them. …I'm sorry… "What is redemption, hm? How does one achieve it if they're never punished for their sins?"
"…They can't," she croaked, realizing that her 'bold statement' was born from plain ignorance. "…Neither of them ever paid for a thing, did they? They might've changed, but their victims are still suffering to this day. That's not something that can be ignored, right?"
"No, Daphne, it can't be," Ron gave a strong nod. "Justice must prevail, or the sins of yesterday will become the sins of tomorrow. Forgiveness without consequence is a very, very dangerous thing. It's the reason why there's another war on the horizon, and it's the reason why these Centaurs suffered such a tragic fate." …He's right… He's completely right… They have to pay… They have to suffer the consequences of their wrongdoings, both of them… Until they do, the Greengrass name will forever remain tarnished.
Ronald Weasley's POV
Tuesday 20th July, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Nearly Midday)
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with?" Daphne asked, lingering by the stairs.
"I'm sure," he replied. "Go and rest, eh? And, don't forget, you can always hop over to Pansy's if this place gets too much for you."
"She does want to have a sleepover, and you'd better be there, Ron." A sleepover? No, thanks. "I'll see you around, then."
"I'll come pick you up for the wedding on Saturday."
"The wedding… I'd almost forgotten…" she looked rather uncertain all of a sudden. "I'm not sure I want to attend, anymore. It wouldn't feel right to attend a party, given that Chief Zotair just passed away."
"His passing is exactly why you'll attend," Ron all but commanded. "You've seen nothing but death and misery for the last couple of months, now it's time to see life and happiness. This sort of life, Daph, it darkens your soul if you're not careful. I'll be here at six, be ready by then."
She mulled his words over, before giving a faint smile and nod. "What colour dress should I wear?"
"Blue," Ron answered swiftly. "I like seeing you in blue."
"Wear a blue tie, then," she smiled more fully, reaching over and squeezing his gloved hand. "Try not to use that thing on my father, will you? Even you can't escape over a hundred mercenaries."
Ron smirked, tightening his grip on the warhammer. It felt alive in his hand, warm and obedient, like his wands, but more than that, he felt… joined with it, sort of how he was joined with Marty. 'When you have need of it, it will find your hand'. That's what she said, right? Was she saying that I can summon it? Like how she summoned hers during the Barkashtra? I'll need to test that theory, but first…
He began making his way over to the study, feeling uneasy due to the sense of familiarity the path brought forth. There was something he was trying to tell me, back in the Headmaster's office, but the old man refused to let him speak. Something happened to him in Magical Germany, something that's peeled away his armour. I have to admit, I've become curious, especially after he ambushed me in the greeting room. He looked… desperate. Vulnerable, even. I could use this.
"What the fuck is that?" Jürgen was waiting for him by the door, raising an eyebrow at the warhammer. "Yeah, you're not going in there with that fucking thing in your hand."
"That's fair," Ron agreed, offering it to Jürgen. "Hold onto it for me?"
The mercenary frowned, but took it regardless, almost dropping it when Ron let go because of how heavy it was. "…Fuck me… What the fuck?!" Odd. It felt heavy in my hand, but also not heavy at all. Centaur Magic? "How were you even carrying it around? This thing is fucking huge!" Jürgen lowered it to the floor, looking up at him with a genuinely alarmed expression. "…the fuck are they feeding you, exactly?"
Ron decided to ignore the ugly bastard, moving past him and knocking on the door. "Your daughter's chauffer is here. Can he have an audience?"
"…Cheeky little shit," Jürgen muttered under his breath, before reaching around Ron and opening the door. "It's unlocked. Go in."
He wasted no time in doing so, entering the study and scanning every visible corner of it. The room was darker than usual, dimly-lit and dusty, with parchment and scrolls scattered all over the floor, but what really caught his attention was the master of the manor himself, standing before the portrait of him and his daughters, his back facing Ron. Little Daphne and tiny Astoria… Cute. Happier days, eh? Before I showed up and 'poisoned' everything?
"I wanted to have a portrait done of you, as well," Sebastian broke the silence. "I just needed to pick a spot to hang it from, but I took too long. Wasted too much time."
"I'm happy to oblige, how's this pose for you?" Ron asked, giving him the bird with both hands.
Sebastian shot a look back, smirking amusedly. "Mary might throw a fit, but it suits you, I think."
Ron's own lips quirked upwards, but he swiftly composed himself. "Why is this room such a fucking mess, eh? You know I despise disorder, don't you? You trying to irritate me? Honestly… It's like walking into my father's shitty little shed."
"I'm in the middle of… reorganising every single one of my businesses," Sebastian revealed. "Don't touch anything, please. I know exactly where everything is." Reorganising his businesses?
Ron carefully began making his way over, sitting down in his old chair and letting out a long breath. "Ah, my arse missed this seat… Hello again, my old friend."
"I was surprised by Daphne's response," Sebastian stated, pouring himself a glass of Apple Brandy.
"I wasn't."
"Really?"
"She's grown stronger than you realize," Ron smirked smugly. "Once I dragged her out of your shadow, she blossomed."
"I suppose, I should thank you for that," Sebastian made his way over, sitting across from him. "Thank you, Ron, for watching over her."
"What do you want from me, eh? Why ask me for this meeting?" Ron changed the subject, eager to get to the truth. "You wanted to tell me something in the old man's office, right? Well, spit it out." Sebastian took a sip from his brandy, staring into Ron's eyes as he did so. "What an incredibly homosexual thing to do. This isn't a date, stop eye-fucking me and start talking."
"…You're a hypocrite," Sebastian whispered, resting the glass on the chair's arm. Ohhhh, here we go!
"Yes."
"You hold me in contempt because I kept things from you, because I lied to you, but you've always lied and hidden the truth from me. From the very start, you weren't the person I thought you were. You're a hypocrite, Ron, down to your core."
Ron smiled darkly, his eyes glowing red. "Anything else?"
Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, steeling his nerves. "So, Dumbledore himself is in on your… whatever it is that you're doing. And, not just that, but you seem to have some power over him. Influence. He threatened to murder me if I spoke of you showing up bloodied that night, and he meant it. He'd kill for you, and I imagine he's not the only one. Snape too. What about the Minister? The Americans? That Travers woman? How many puppets do you have, exactly? What do you say to them that you become the centre of their worlds? The linchpin of their stories?"
"I simply exist, that's all," Ron admitted, shrugging. "I mean, you gave me my own room in this manor, started calling me son, ignored your own daughters in order to spend more time with me… I became the linchpin in your story, too. Tell me, did I whisper some Magic into your ears? Or, did you choose to fall in love with me?"
Sebastian nodded slowly, thinking. "…Like moths to a flame, we're drawn to you. That's what you're saying?" It's in the nature of mortals to worship Gods, isn't it? Even the cruel ones? "No… You're still hiding from me, Ron, I can see it, now. You're a very clever wizard, too fucking clever, even. You say one thing, but mean another entirely. You like to play with people, play with their lack of context. We're like toys to you, and you love using us for your entertainment."
"If you were just toys to me, I wouldn't have sacrificed so much of myself for you lot," Ron pointed out sombrely. "Instead of taking shots in the dark, why don't you just make peace with the fact that you'll never understand me. You and your wife both… My parents… Pandora and Xeno… Remus… You all keep taking shots in the darkness, and you just keep missing." Out of all of you, Sirius is the only one who's always in my corner. He's the only one of you who remembers how much he owes to me.
"Whose fault is that, Ron? Ours? Or, yours?"
"Yours," Ron answered easily enough.
"Explain."
He drew in a deep breath, leaning into the chair. "You say that I'm a hypocrite because I do exactly as you do, yes? The problem with that little statement of yours is that you and I kept secrets for very different reasons. You lied and hid the truth because you wanted to outrun your past, to never face a single consequence for all the evil you've unleashed. A selfish act, through and through, one that eventually drove you to betray my trust, something you promised you'd never do. You can tell yourself whatever you like, but we both know you were only looking out for yourself. That's just who you are, who you've always been."
"And you?" Sebastian asked, not denying a single word.
"I keep secrets to protect the people I care about, to spare them my fate. You think I just came into the world like this? That I was always a monster? That I was plotting death and carnage while you were teaching me chess? No… I was a good kid, remember? I wanted to impress people. I wanted to help people. I wanted to be loved, to be acknowledged. I was… a person, rather than a force of nature." …A slave…
"What happened?" Sebastian leaned forward.
"People like you happened," Ron whispered dangerously, feeling his blood heat up. "I started learning of the world, rather than just living in it, and the things I learned… The horrors I've been forced to witness over and over again… The terrible fucking things I've done in the last six months alone…" He exhaled, a low growl emanating from the back of his throat. "I just signed off on children being put to death, because their lives are so fucked up, so hopeless, that death is their only mercy."
"…Centaur children? From Zotair's Tribe?" Sebastian averted his gaze. "…I'm sorry, Ron. I'm sorry you were forced to make such a choice because of me." Then look me in the eyes when you apologize! Like a fucking man!
"I am a hypocrite, sure, but not for the reasons you think," Ron calmed himself down through his Occlumency. "This is why I won't hesitate when I eventually corner you and your wife, no matter my personal feelings. All the fucking lives you've destroyed, you've no right to complain about what's coming to you. And, as you recently saw, even if I fail, my 'puppets' won't. Your lives are finished, and that's just that. End of story."
Sebastian downed his glass, nodding resignedly. "…I feared as much…"
"Go on, make your threats, now. Tell me about what you'll do to me if I dare move against you. Give me the speech you've been practising, you fucking cunt. I want to hear it. I really fucking do." There was no speech, however, nor any threats, as Sebastian rose out of his chair and grabbed a piece of new parchment from his desk, delivering it to Ron. "…the fuck is this?"
"Ingredients to craft the Wolfsbane Potion," Sebastian revealed. "Enough to supply this entire country for years to come." …What? "You can't refuse, because even as we speak, the Goblins are transferring the stockpile to your vault. The deal is already done, I forced their hand while you were gone."
"What are you playing at?" Ron asked, taken aback. Something's off… Really fucking off…
"…I think, I finally understand how you feel when you look upon me," Sebastian whispered, his gaze distant. "I met a man in Magical Germany, Ron, a man I'm going to kill, but he's incredibly dangerous, so… there's a good chance he'll kill me first."
"What fucking man?" Ron asked, standing up.
"I can't tell you that," Sebastian replied, walking away to the portrait of his daughters. "I won't tell you, because as you said, you've witnessed enough horrors, already. No… This man is mine to finish… He's me, after all."
"This is what you wanted to tell me that night, wasn't it?" Ron asked, frowning. "The old man won't let you, however, right? Why?"
"If I die out there, look after my daughters, won't you?" Sebastian asked, dousing any fire Ron had in his belly. "Their grandmother cannot be trusted, nor this Schwarz boy. If they try to steal from my daughters, cut off their hands."
"This isn't like you," Ron noted, narrowing his eyes. "You don't take risks like this, not for something as petty as a vendetta. Who is this man? What did he do to you?"
Sebastian continued staring up at the portrait, his hands clenching into fists. "…He forced me to witness one too many horrors."
Whether it was his tone, or his posture, Ron finally realized that something deep within the man had changed during his trip to Magical Germany. "You're serious, aren't you? You're about to go and do something incredibly foolish."
"Despite how it all ended, I'm still glad we met, Ron," Sebastian said, not looking back. "This foolish thing I'm about to do… It's a good thing, too, and, without you, I wouldn't have ever considered going through with it. For the very first time in my life, I'm about to do something that will make this world a better place without the promise of a reward. It's a… humbling… experience. Thank you."
Ron, however, was feeling something completely different from humility, now. There was a strange sense of dread building within his gut, a dread he'd felt before whenever something terrible was about to happen. He'd felt the very same dread atop the Astronomy Tower long before he'd found himself climbing that bloody railing, as if some primal part of him always knew that he was going to be pushed over the edge. …This is our final conversation, isn't it? This is… goodbye… He felt his grip on the parchment tighten, opening his mouth to speak but stopping himself at the very last second. …You've no more words for men like him, remember? If this is truly goodbye, then good riddance. Good fucking riddance. Just keep moving forward, old boy.
He folded the parchment and placed it within his inner coat pocket, heading for the door. Whoever this man is that Lord Greengrass is targeting, I need to learn his name, just in case he survives what's coming. The Headmaster… He'll know. After all, he's the one keeping said name hidden from me, for whatever stupid reason. The old man is pushing his luck with me, he really fucking is.
Tuesday 20th July, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Late Afternoon)
"So, just like that, your former mentor handed you this fortune?" Bones asked, a dull look on her face. "You expect me to believe this, Mr. Weasley?"
"What? You think this is some ploy against you?" Ron raised an eyebrow.
"You have a habit of undermining this Ministry, so it's not such a far-fetched theory, is it?"
"Lady, I'm giving the stockpile to you, already," Ron pointed out. "It'll be in your possession by the end of day, and, after that, I can never reclaim it. It's yours, end of story. Where, in this situation, am I giving you the shaft, exactly? I went and lost ten thousand Galleons in France… Thanks to me, you came out ahead without even lifting a finger. You're welcome."
"Why would Sebastian Greengrass purchase the ingredients if he was just going to hand them over to you?" she asked. "Was it a peace offering? Are you two working together, again?"
"No, we're not working together, again," Ron answered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "This notion in your head that I'm out to make you look stupid… It needs to go away, all right? I don't need to play games with you. I'm not like all those fucking Lords and Ladies, yeah? I could walk in here and fold your spine in half whenever it suits me." She glared murder at him, but kept her mouth shut. "Now, I've had a long day, but, despite that, I've come here and solved one of your biggest problems for you. The least you can do, the fucking least, is thank me. Hm? How about it?"
She continued glaring at him, eventually picking up her quill and jotting something down. "Your public apology to my administration will take place tomorrow evening, in the atrium. Be here before five 'o'clock, Mr. Weasley, or there will be consequences." She passed the note to him, written upon it was the time and date. "After this meeting is finished, your brother will make the announcement to the public."
"Want a crowd, do you?" Ron figured, pocketing the note. "And you're using my own brother to do it. Who's trying to undermine who, eh?"
"I'm certain you're already aware that there's an International Confederation of Wizards' conference taking place on Friday," she started. "I will be speaking before a great many people, Mr. Weasley, people who witnessed you put my Head-Auror in St. Mungo's. After ousting the Purebloods, I made many enemies, both at home and overseas, and you made my entire administration look weak before them."
"Ah, and by making me apologize publicly right before this epic meeting, you hope to show these enemies that you've 'tamed' me."
"It's a bit of theatre, nothing more," she said, fixing up her monocle. "Animals like you can't be tamed, only put down."
"Ohoho… This badger's got claws," Ron sniggered, much to her chagrin. "I'm not so easily put down, you'll find, and, if Merlin forbid, I do somehow die, I reckon you'll be among the first to start missing me."
"Is that so?"
"It is," Ron nodded, his voice barely audible. "You depend on my unwavering strength a lot more than you realize. A whole lot more." With that, he stood up and fixed his coat. "I'd better start working on my apology, eh? Don't worry, Minister, I'll lick that taint of yours real good."
"Get out," she said, her voice full of disgust. "You step out of line for even a second, tomorrow, and you'll find yourself in a dungeon before you can finish the word 'sorry'."
Chuckling to himself, Ron made his way out of the office, heading straight for the elevators. There he is… Working away at his little desk, like a good little boy. He kept his eyes facing ahead, not sparing Percy a glance as he passed by.
"Ron, wait," his brother called out, making him stop. Damn, almost made it. "You don't even say hello? What's wrong with you?"
Ron drew in a deep breath, turning to face Percy. "You sure you want that? We're in public, aren't we? Wouldn't want anyone to think that we're brothers, or something." …Fuck, that was petty and pathetic, even by my standard.
"What?" Percy frowned, his brow furrowed. "Are you… mad about something? What'd I do?"
"…Nothing," Ron decided to leave it be. "Hello, Percy. Now, goodbye."
"Wait… Is this about the Minister making you apologize?" Percy asked, standing up. Making me? I fucking volunteered, right? No one makes me do anything. "Ron, you crossed the line, and you've got to face the consequences of that. How's that my fault?"
Ron pinched his eyes with his gloved hand. "…You're really shit at reading people, Percy. Really shit."
"…What?"
"Your boss has a job for you," Ron turned to leave. "Go and see her."
"What job? What job, Ron?"
He ignored his brother's voice, continuing on his way. This is will hurt my reputation, no doubt, but Percy's not wrong. I crossed a line, I attacked a war-hero, and there has to be a reckoning for that. It's only fair.
Severus Snape's POV
Tuesday 20th July, 1994 (Taiga Forest – Late Evening)
"So, they refuse to lift a finger until their 'Captain' is capable of joining them for battle?" Snape repeated, and Travers gave a nod. …Russians… "They refuse to lift a finger." Damn them, then. Fools.
"They're very loyal to him," Abadie said, his tone aloof and unconcerned. "He must be quite an effective leader."
"He's a fuckin' animal is what he is," Solomon grunted. "Your balls hadn't even dropped when stories of this mad bastard were being printed. Yeah, he's effective, more than, but I'm sick of this fuckin' shithole, I am." He then looked to Snape, his beard twitching. "I've done me work, haven't I? Food, blankets, medicine, vodka, beer, everything that's been asked for… I've sorted it all out, at great expense to myself, and yet, the beggars keep shoving their cupped hands in my face. Why am I still here? You're the fuckin' Pharaoh, is what you are, mate."
"You have contacts in the underworld," Snape stated plainly. "Contacts that we need to utilize."
"Ah, intelligence, hm?" Solomon muttered, grunting, again. "Tell you what? I'll write down the names, the addresses, and the Ronin here can do something other than sit on her chiselled arse all day."
"It's called meditation, I believe," Abadie interjected.
"…Fuckin' creep, this one," Solomon pointed at the Veela Lord, who raised an eyebrow. "Always fuckin' lurking, always watching from the dark-"
"Enough," Snape hissed, losing his patience. "Just write the names down and be on your way." No point in forcing him to stay, not when I don't even trust him. Plus, he's done a good job of establishing supply routes in spite of the remoteness of this camp. "Go, you're done here."
"Gladly," Solomon sauntered off without hesitation. "We Jews like to wander, staying in one place has never worked out for my people."
"Are we really just going to let him leave?" Abadie questioned. "He knows far too much about this operation."
"I trust a rogue like him far more than I trust a creature like you," Travers sneered, locking eyes with Abadie. "You will keep your hound in check. Solomon did everything we asked of him, and more, and his reward will not be a knife in the back."
"No one is stabbing anyone in the back," Snape said warningly, shooting Abadie a disapproving glance. "Now, update me on the information you've managed to collect so far."
"Ronald's man, Artyom, has discovered Lord Sokolov's gang," Abadie started. "Apparently, the man is asking a great deal of questions in the darkest corners of Magical Russia… Questions pertaining to the Butchers of Birmingham." He's hunting for Ron, is he? That could become a problem. I'll need to warn the boy when I see him next. "Lady Travers wishes to ambush him, remove his head from his shoulders, but I believe we are not ready for such an assault."
"How many men does Sokolov have?" Snape asked promptly.
"Hundreds, all of them cut-throats and brigands," Abadie answered. "His inner circle consists of around ten, but to reach them, we'll need to fight an army."
"And, without Yahontov and his Aurors, that'll be suicide." Even with them, it could be suicide. Abadie is right, attacking Sokolov right now is too risky.
"We just need to wait for a moment when he's not surrounded by his army," Travers argued. "A man like him, he has appetites that need to be sated in the shadows. We just need to catch him when he's most vulnerable."
"Artyom is searching for this information?" Snape asked, and she gave a nod. "Tell him to be careful, I've heard that Sokolov is no fool. Out of the Five, he's the most feared by the average citizen."
"He's a common thug, nothing more," Travers scoffed. "Terrorising villagers and robbing the weak. I will bring him to justice, one way or another."
"Don't forget that he's hunting you, as well," Snape pointed out. "Don't give me that look, girl, the Veela knows you and Ron are the Butchers. I told you already, I won't tolerate needless risks and foolish bravado. Don't underestimate Sokolov, nor any of the other Five, they've been in power for centuries for a reason."
"Our focus should be on securing as much information as possible before we make any move against the Five," Abadie suggested. "The Mrakogubci have even warned us against targeting the weaker families, saying that the Five will simply devour their businesses and assets should they be brought low." Not an uncommon practice, even back home, but here it must be especially prevalent. It seems the Five have left very few weaknesses to be exploited, which means that this entire operation is trapped in limbo until Yahontov is back on his feet.
"Keep gathering information, use Solomon's contacts to help you find an in," Snape ordered Abadie, turning to leave. "I will check up on Yahontov, then return home."
He travelled up the path that led to Yahontov's tent, perched up on the higher ground away from rest of the camp. The Dark Lord has probably united the Five under his banner by now, while we're struggling to even get started. What a disaster. At this rate, it would be wiser to abandon this country and focus on its neighbours, instead. Albus wouldn't entertain the idea, I'm certain, but Ron could be persuaded to see reason. He and I are already in agreement when it comes to Samara Ivanov, as well what to do with the Five. Magical Russia is on the brink of being lost, cutting our losses early could give us vital time to bolster our efforts elsewhere.
Upon entering the tent, Snape's attention was immediately drawn to Yahontov, who was sitting up on his bed with a dazed expression. "You're awake this time… Good."
Yahontov broke out of his stupor, regarding Snape's arrival with indifference. "…Svetlana tells me that I owe you my life."
"You do," Snape confirmed, studying the man. "You've lost weight, but your complexion has improved immensely. The Dragon's Breath is finally out of your system."
"Then, why do I feel so tired all the time?" Yahontov asked. "Can barely leave this bed to take a piss in the woods."
"Any other man would've died in your place, consider yourself lucky."
"Lucky? Sure…" Yahontov muttered, looking around lazily. "…Stuck in this place without so much as a pot to piss in. I might as well be a Leprechaun, huh?"
"I need you leading your people, again," Snape said, not caring for Yahontov's complaining. "They're refusing to cooperate without your direct orders. It's becoming a problem."
"Why should they cooperate with you? You're all foreigners," Yahontov pointed out. "Travers goes around barking orders like she runs this country, the Veela is always trying to find a dishonest angle, the Troll is a fucking criminal, and that Artyom fellow… Actually, he's all right… We like him."
Snape frowned darkly, vexed. "Don't forget that it was us 'foreigners' who saved you, and your people, after you bungled up a simple job. Without us, you'd be dead, and your Mrakogubci would be fugitives in the wind."
"A simple job? We almost had Volkov, and the boy, but Rodolphus fucking Lestrange showed up out of nowhere. A man who's meant to be nothing more than skin and bones, and yet, he almost killed the mercenary, the Ronin, and one of my own, all on his lonesome. Why is he still alive, exactly? If you knew that the Dark Lord was back, why didn't you do the sensible thing and take out his most powerful followers while you still had them in your custody?"
Snape fixed up his expression, losing some steam. "The idea was put forth, but it was… rejected."
"By who?"
"It doesn't matter, we can't change the past," Snape refused to answer. "We're on the same side, Yahontov, so do the smart thing and tell your people to-"
"We're on the same side, I agree, but this is our country," Yahontov interjected. "We will decide how it is saved, not you. My Aurors took an oath to fight under my command, not under yours. We Russians… We take our oaths very seriously, and if you think you can just come here and start ordering us around, then you're mad. When I can wield my axe once again, only then shall we 'cooperate'. You tell Dumbledore that we're not his toy soldiers, we will be treated with respect and fairness. We've sacrificed our very freedoms, already, the freedoms of our families, so don't you dare talk to me about not cooperating."
Snape drew in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to Hex the fool. "Let me give you some advice, Luka Yahontov… You've met Albus, who's always treated you as a friend, and, now, you've met me, who saved your miserable life. Before you meet the third one, fix your attitude, or your freedom won't be the only thing you'll have lost."
"…The third one?"
"He'll string you and your people up in these woods, if he's feeling merciful on that particular day," Snape whispered icily, leaning over Yahontov and covering the man with his shadow. "We're not playing around, anymore. The Dark Lord is tearing through this country unchallenged, and, unlike us, he doesn't give anyone a choice to cooperate. He demands obedience, and he kills anyone who refuses him. The Five are already under his thumb, and, through them, the lesser families, too. Next, he will seek out the Ice-Giants, the Werewolves, the Vampires, the monsters hiding under the beds of children… If we continue to lose ground here, then we will leave you, and your countrymen, to fend for yourselves. Do you understand me? I don't care for your Russian pride, I don't care for the differences between our peoples, I don't care… I want the Dark Lord, and his mongrel followers, dead and buried, that's it. That's all I care about." He took a step back, staring down at the now-silent Auror. "The next time I come here, I expect to hear good news. I expect results."
Amelia Bones' POV
Wednesday 21st July, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Early Evening)
"We're at capacity, Minister," Jane reported, a sterner-than-usual look on her face. "Mad-Eye is barring any further entry." Quite the turn out, isn't it?
Amelia's eyes scanned the massive crowd that had squeezed itself into the atrium, never had she conceived that this particular part of the Ministry building could be lacking in space. "Any threats?"
"Some shady looking folk, but none that we recognise from our records. Still, we should disperse some of this crowd for the sake of-"
"No," Amelia refused. "Speak with Crouch, he's heading up security. We have more than enough Aurors to detect any problems, and deal with them without raising alarm. I want no interruptions, do you understand? None."
Jane hesitated, displeased. "…Ma'am, attempts have been made on Ronald's life before. Even with the Americans, we don't have enough eyes to observe every member of the mob."
"Go speak with Crouch, he has a plan," Amelia ordered, but just as Jane went to leave, the Minister grabbed her by the arm. "…Did you teach Weasley Human Transfiguration? Back when you were his instructor?"
Jane blinked, before pulling her arm free. "…Of course not, he was thirteen at the time. A gifted child, yes, but a child nonetheless. I would never be so reckless." I believe her, which means someone else did. Dumbledore? No, he wouldn't do that, the risk is too high, and he, as a Master of Transfiguration, would know that. Who, then? Who would be so foolish? Could it be that he taught himself? That's not impossible, given who he is.
"…You may go," Amelia dismissed the Auror, her brow furrowed. He twisted his neck around like an owl, and I'm dead certain I heard his spine mangle itself. I've seen Human Transfiguration before, but never quite like that. It was… grotesque, and instant, and he said no incantations whatsoever. He didn't even produce his wand, for Merlin's sake. How did he do it, then?
"The Wizengamot is calling for you to take your seat, Minister," Percy said from behind her, startling her. "Minister? Are you unwell?"
"…I am fine, Mr. Weasley, thank you," Amelia gathered her wits, deciding to focus on the task at hand. "Your brother is here?"
"…No, Minister, he's still nowhere to be found." He'll make some grand entrance, no doubt. The boy was clearly starved for attention growing up, and it shows.
"The moment he's here, I want him on that stage," Amelia ordered. "Don't give him a chance to mingle with the crowd. He's here to be humbled, not to be showered with further admiration and praise."
Percy nodded meekly, swiftly rushing away to tend to his duties. I heard someone threw a tomato at his poor head when he made the announcement yesterday. I should make it up to him when I next get the chance. Amelia marched onto the make-shift stage, where the entire Wizengamot, save for Crouch, was currently seated. Most of them looked like they didn't want to be there, they saw her demands for a public apology from such a prominent figure as overly-authoritarian, but none of them understood why she needed to show unwavering strength, especially in the face of public disapproval. It's the Ministry that will put an end to the Dark Lord, to the new war he plans to unleash, but for that to happen, we must be seen as those in charge. Those with authority. Those who will not allow disorder and criminality to go unpunished. We must be seen as powerful, more powerful than even Albus Dumbledore.
The moment she took her appointed seat, Arabella Fehér, the Head of the Office of Misinformation, leaned in and whispered in her ear. "This could end in a riot, Minister, so try to not be too critical of Mr. Weasley. Speak with him in a pleasant manner, a respectful manner, rather than a parent scolding a child."
"Should I also offer him strawberries and cream?" Amelia asked in response, before letting out a sigh. "…I know, Arabella. It isn't my intention to make a spectacle of him. It's my hope that this will not only humble him, but also make the Ministry look steadfast in the public's eyes. His good deeds cannot allow him to operate outside of Magical Law. No one should have that privilege."
"…There's nothing more terrifying than a hypocrite in power," Arabella whispered to herself, and Amelia failed to make out what she was saying due to the clamouring crowd.
"Pardon?"
"…Nothing, Minister," Arabella leaned away. "The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner we can all return to doing our actual jobs."
"You might fail to see the necessity of this, now, Arabella, but do you know me to be someone who acts without reason?" Amelia questioned, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The blonde witch stared at her, before subtly shaking her head. "No, Amelia."
"Then, have some faith in your Minis-" Amelia began, but an uproar within the crowd cut her off.
The masses began cheering, whistling, shouting 'Weasley' at the top of their lungs, and when Amelia turned her focus forward, she saw the jubilant crowd parting to make way for the Weasley brothers. …A grand entrance… Damn it, Percy… Her secretary was trying his best to usher Ronald towards the stage, but the crowd was making the young wizard's job next to impossible, reaching out and touching the grinning Ronald as if he were some messiah. Why was he allowed to enter the crowd?! Fuck! Where is Alastor?! It was originally his job to escort Weasley upon arrival! Thinking of the man seemed to summon him, as the gruff Head-Auror pushed his way through the crowd and placed himself by Ronald's side. With booming commands, and the occasional shove, he managed to bring the sniggering Ronald to the stage.
"Sorry, you lot, I'm a whore for attention," the redhead laughed as he made his way up, winking right at Amelia. …Arrogant fucking bastard… "Blame my father, it's his fault I'm this way. He didn't tuck me in enough as a boy." The man in question looked beyond embarrassed, deflating in his seat. "Where do I sit, eh? I don't see a single free chair."
"You'll stand right here," Alastor growled, grabbing the boy's arm harshly and dragging him into position. "And get that bloody grin off your face."
"Careful, you'll rile them up even further," Weasley pointed out, smug. "If they start a riot, you people of power and privilege could get hurt. Right, Minister?"
"Alastor, let him go," Amelia said warningly, rising from her seat. "Mr. Weasley, we agreed that you wouldn't make a mockery of this."
"I'm not, what you're witnessing is the love of the people," Weasley chuckled, thoroughly pleased with himself. "It's not my fault you're as charismatic as a plank of wood." …Gods, give me strength, please. What does my niece see in this brat? "Now, shall we start? I have places to be after this."
Deciding to limit her exposure to the rage-inducing child who had started haunting her dreams, Amelia made her way over to the podium, where a Speaker Wand was waiting for her. She scanned the front of the crowd, which consisted mostly of reporters like Rita Skeeter, Greta Thornburg, and so on, before raising the Speaker Wand and placing it against her throat.
"Please, silence, now! Silence!" she announced, and, as the crowd simmered down, she cleared her throat. "We are gathered here today to right a wrong, to put an end to bad blood between two entities that should work together, rather than work against each other! Ronald Weasley, as many of you are aware, crossed a line on the 30th of April, during a gala held in honour of Minister Samara Ivanov! In a fit of anger, he struck Head-Auror Alastor Moody, a hero of the Wizarding War, over the head, resulting in serious injury!"
"Why don't you tell us what he did to deserve it, huh?!" a man in the crowd shouted, followed promptly by others. "You lot have it in for the lad! We've seen this before! You're out to silence him! Tell us the truth!"
Amelia stared at the man in silence, signalling the approaching American Aurors to stop before they reached him. "What you read in the Daily Prophet… was not what happened in reality, good sir!" I might as well use this chance to kill two birds with one Spell. "The truth is that Rita Skeeter, a woman notorious for spreading false information, and outright lies, spun a tale to drag Mr. Weasley's name through the mud!" Skeeter blanched as far too many eyes focused in on her. "Her motives were easy to discern, of course, she would say anything to sell more copies of her rag, and if she could harm her greatest competition along the way, then that would simply be a bonus! This woman, and the global outlet she peddles her 'talents' to, are in the pockets of the very same people I ran out of this Ministry! The corrupt elite who want to keep honest folk like yourself down, who want to discredit people like Mr. Weasley, who want me thrown out of office for daring to defy them!" Silence followed her declaration, and she knew she'd made the right choice by adamantly siding herself with Magical Britain's Golden Child. "Mr. Weasley did strike Alastor Moody, that cannot be refuted, but it was done in anger when Lady Grueva, the host of the gala, murdered one of her Elves in a most repulsive, unjust manner! Mr. Weasley was right to be outraged, but, in that outrage, he lashed out against the wrong person! That is why we're here, today! Not to persecute him! Not to humiliate him! Not to harm him! We are here to make peace with him! We, your Ministry, ever your servants, will always seek to right wrongs rather than simply punish the wrongdoers! You are here today to witness the birth of a friendship between my administration and Mr. Weasley, a young man who has dedicated himself, like us, to all of you!"
It started with a few soft claps, and, then, a tidal wave of cheers and applaud broke out, the entire mood of the atrium had been flipped on its head. Amelia raised her spare hand above her hand, basking in the approval before offering said hand to Weasley, who looked rather impressed for a change. He sauntered over and shook her hand, accepting the Speaker Wand with a genuine smile.
"You know how it works?" she whispered, and he gave a nod. "No funny business."
With that, she returned to her chair, noticing that all the doubters in the Wizengamot looked quite pleased with her, now. Have faith, I will lead us to victory. This Ministry will prevail, against all odds.
"I didn't expect the truth of that night to come out, but, then again, I didn't expect we'd have a Minister as fearless as Madam Amelia Bones, either!" Weasley spoke to the crowd, his demeanour relaxed and charming. "She is right, we are natural allies, she and I, and it would be my honour to accept this olive branch! I never want to sit through another Wizengamot Trial! The first one was pure fucking hell, and I'd sooner flush my skull-sponge down the toilet than sit through another!" Laughter echoed throughout the atrium, and Amelia took the time to scan for any threats herself. All clear, it seems. "My mother and father raised me to take responsibility for my wrongdoings, and, to be honest, I've never quite fucked up as badly as when I took a swing at Mad-Eye fucking Moody himself! The fact that I still have a face is a testament to the Ministry's understanding and patience, and I will not waste this given chance to do the right thing!" Weasley looked to Alastor, bowing his head slightly as a respectful gesture. "I'm sorry for striking you, Mr. Moody, for losing control of myself like some petulant boy! But, as I'm sure you understand, puberty is a really mean bitch, and, currently, she sends me regular owls! Going from horny to angry to angsty to weeping in the shower five times a day is not easy! Thank you for cutting me some slack!"
More laughter, more delight, and yet, something in the back of Amelia's mind was feeling increasingly uneasy. Some primal instinct she'd built up through years of working as the Head of the Department of Magical Law was trying its absolute hardest to warn her, and she was not going to ignore it. She continued watching the crowd, same as the Aurors, until her eyes landed on the one face at the front of the crowd that harboured nothing but hatred for the redhead atop the stage. …Um… Whose child is that? A boy, no older than eight or nine, stood all by himself in a sea of adults, a jagged wand gripped tightly in his left hand. It was a surreal sight, and she found herself captivated by it, the boy's eyes burned with pure malice that no child his age could possibly muster, and, when black soon blazed red, horror shot through her entire being. What the fuck?! SHIT!
"RONALD, GET DOW-!" Amelia threw herself forward, but the atrium exploded in a shade of sickening green before she even finished the warning.
By the time she reached Weasley, he was already falling backwards, eyes shut and the blood completely drained from his already-pale face. The Killing Curse had exploded against his shoulder, a direct hit, and Amelia fell on her arse under his weight. NO! What the fuck just happened?! Ronald?! Screams broke out from every direction, but all Amelia could do was hold the dead teenager in her arms, her terror-filled eyes glued to the child with the evillest of smiles stretched across his tiny face. Before the Aurors even reached the attacker, however, some within the crowd had seized the boy, pinning his laughing form to the ground and yanking away his wand. …That little boy just cast a perfect Killing Curse… How's that even possible…? From behind her, a gut-wrenching roar was unleashed, followed by the sound of furniture being thrown about. Arthur threw himself beside his dead son, grabbing at his navy suit and screaming as if struck by the Cruciatus Curse itself. Despite the pandemonium all over the atrium, it was the father's screams of anguish and heartbreak that got to her, freezing her in place as if she were a statue.
"Get the Minister off the fucking stage, Kingsley!" Alastor's voice boomed above the noise, and she felt strong hands seize her robes from behind, dragging her out from under Weasley. "Get her out of here!"
She didn't know why, maybe because she already held herself somewhat responsible, but Amelia tried to pull herself free from Kingsley's hold, her eyes never leaving the pinned down, red-eyed boy who seemed to be laughing directly at her, now. …What is happening?! Who is that boy?! It couldn't possibly be-…! Her breath hitched; she'd heard tales of eyes like burning coals before. …No… Him…? Here…? Why?! Why is he here?! Her spiralling mind was brought to an abrupt halt when Arthur threw himself away from his motionless son with a frightened yelp, crawling away from him as if he were a Cursed object.
"…Owwww," Ron wheezed, and this time, it was her blood that drained away. …Huh…? "…You fucking cunts…"
His body stirred, his bones shifting and cracking under his skin, before he bent his knees and, in a most unnatural way, rose off the ground without the use of his dangling arms. Silence crashed down upon the atrium like an avalanche, even the most terrified of people were left soundless in the face of the madness they were witnessing. Weasley's body continued to contort and twist, the crunches coming from within turning Amelia's stomach, before he suddenly became perfectly still. …By the Gods… Did he just resurrect himself from death…? Impossible…
"Which one of you fuckers threw that Killing Curse, eh?" Weasley growled, his expression as cold as ice. "You're going to have to try much harder than that if you want to put me down." His dark gaze landed on the pinned boy, who himself now looked just as terrified as everyone else. "You little fucking shit, was it really you? Careful with him, you lot, he's probably under the Imperius-"
The boy shrieked like a blood-starved Banshee, startling everyone around him, before black smoke escaped out of his mouth, becoming a wraith-like figure floating above the screaming masses. It's him! It's the Dark Lord! Gods protect us!
"At fucking last!" Weasley threw his head back and laughed, raising his arms to his sides. "Oh, I've been waiting for this! C'mon, then, you misty fuck! I'm right fucking here! Round fucking two, bitch! Bring it on!"
The wraith hurled itself towards Weasley, who in turn threw him towards it, a manic grin on his face and his hands clenched into fists, his gloved one smashing into the wraith's murky face with such an impact that a Magical shockwave sent everyone around them, including Amelia, flying off the stage. The screams of the people, the laughter of Weasley, the shrieks of the wraith, the barking of the Aurors, soon faded into nothingness, the back of her head throbbing and throbbing until it suddenly wasn't.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: He cliffhangered them, again!