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nettedtangible · 1 year ago

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Epilogue, HP Microfic, 2554 words.

We all hate the epilogue, so I re-wrote it. Enjoy.

Harry stood in the kitchen of one of his favourite places in the world, and noted that, for the first time he could remember, the Burrow was silent. He placed his hands on the benchtop and gazed out the window at the small and sombre band of people gathered in the overgrown yard.

It had been four days since the battle of Hogwarts; days which had felt to be some of the longest of Harry’s life, bar perhaps, some of his more arduous stints at Privet Drive. He hung his head, diverting his eyes from the scene in front of him. Behind him he heard a noise, and turning, saw Ginny emerge from the staircase, her eyes red, though her face was set firm. He had seen that fiery resolve in her face many times before and reached out for her hand. She took it and, with a gesture of her head, indicated that it was time for them to join the others.

They walked through the backdoor and into the garden, the sky pearly grey above them to mark the occasion. The Weasleys were gathered around a freshly dug hole in the ground, beside which stood a rough-hewn coffin. Harry stole himself as he looked at it and turned his head, taking in those around him.

Mr and Mrs Weasley stood at the head of the grave, Mrs Weasley sobbing into Mr Weasley’s shoulder, whose face was set into a mask of stony grief. To their right stood Andromeda Tonks, stroking the face of the blue haired baby she carried in her arms. Harry closed his eyes, remembering heavily Lupin and Tonks’ funeral of the previous day. It had been a small affair, and a devastating setting for Harry to meet his godson, feeling as he had held him for the first time, an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the fate of his parents.

Standing near Andromeda were Bill and Fleur, Fleur resting against Bill’s chest, the picture of regal sadness. Charlie stood beside them, one arm slung around Percy's shoulders, eyes downcast. Near the foot of the grave stood George, flanked by Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan. Harry thought that he had never seen a person look more lost. George was staring into the grave intently, as if filled with longing to join his twin, as he had in all other adventures. Angelina was clutching his arm and sniffing with repressed sobs, while Lee simply looked shocked, as though expecting Fred to leap from behind a bush at any moment.

Next to Harry stood Ron and Hermione, locked in a tight embrace. Tears were dripping off the end of Ron’s long nose as he buried his head in Hermione’s bushy hair, her own face wet from crying. Slightly off to the side sat Hagrid, who clutched a bottle of firewiskey in one hand and an overlarge plaid handkerchief in the other.

Nobody present wore dress robes or had followed in the Muggle tradition of wearing black, their grief was worn on their faces and banished all need for ceremony.

Harry exchanged a glace with Ron, and found he had no words of comfort to offer. Gripping tighter to Ginny’s hand, he turned to Mr Weasley. A sense of quiet expectation settled over the crowd.

Mr Weasley stepped forward, disengaging gently from a still shaking Molly, and raised his wand. Softly, the coffin was lifted from the ground and slowly lowered into the open grave. Harry heard it land with a soft thud, the finality of which shook him to his core. George turned his face, looking away from the grave for the first time.

‘My son,’ began Mr Weasley, voice clear, though slightly unsteady, ‘was a man unlike any other,’ he gave George a small look and continued, ‘save for his partner in crime and in life.’ A small gasp of mirth seemed to be wrenched from the mourners, as George began to cry in earnest.

‘I will never be able to understand why it was that he was taken from us, as so many were, by this terrible war,’ continued Mr Weasley, ‘but I do know, that he died because he fought. That he was brave, and rash, and would never, for one second, have let the fight go on without him.’ Some more tortured chuckles were released from the crowd.

‘Fred, I will love you until the day I die, as will everyone here. But I know that you walk beside us, possibly tying our shoelaces together when we’re not looking…’ another gasping laugh.

‘Fred died fighting for what was right, and to protect the people he loved, and each of us must honour him by going forth and living our lives with love in our hearts and laughter in our days.’

Harry’s face felt hot and tears prickled his eyes as a smile broke through the pain. Mr Weasley stepped back from the grave and raised his wand, ready to fill the grave with the adjacent pile of dirt when suddenly, a strange thumping noise echoed over the garden.

‘Arthur-,’ said Mrs Weasley, sharply, grasping Mr Weasley’s arm and staring into the grave, ‘listen…’ The thumping sound was growing louder and more pronounced, and every onlooker shuffled forward to peer into the grave, looking at the coffin intently.

With a blast the sound of a canon, the coffin burst open, and explosions suddenly filled the air. For a mad second, Harry thought that Fred had come charging out, but soon realised that hundreds of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes fireworks were pouring out of the coffin, emitting loud cracks and bangs and expanding out of the grave. Dragons and pinwheels rocketed up into the overcast sky, and letters forming the words “saint like” danced around their heads. Harry whipped his head to look at George, who was grinning widely through a sheen of tears. He looked around at his family, who, like Harry, had turned to him, and shrugged,

‘We had a pact,’ he said simply, looking sheepish and heartbroken all at once. A laugh rang out among the crowd, loud and shrill. Harry looked around to discover that, unexpectedly, it was emanating from Mrs Weasley. She was laughing so hard that her body shook, and she fell to her knees, stroking the grass at the very head of the Grave, peering into the coffin lovingly, her laughs mingled with sobs.

At this, though they had been momentarily frozen in surprise, the rest of the party began to laugh too, haltingly at first, through with increased fervour. Ron was smiling despite himself and running his hands over his disbelieving face. Lee and Angelina were beaming as they watched rockets and hippogriffs soar above them. Teddy was staring at the fireworks completely enrapt, and Bill and Charlie were smirking, exchanging knowing looks at their brothers’ antics.

Harry felt a relaxing of the tightness in his chest as he admired the colours and sparks of the superb firework display and knew that Fred wanted them to celebrate him, not mourn. He laughed as one of the fireworks performed a particularly rude gesture, which, again unexpectedly, made Molly redouble with laughter.

The group laughed and cried and traded stories about Fred as the dusk turned the sky to a faint pink and the fireworks flew all around them and off into gathering night.

Harry followed the others as they trouped inside, the Burrow feeling warmer now than it had all day. Mr Weasley lit a fire with his wand and promptly began distributing firewiskey, while Mrs Weasley busied herself in the kitchen, wiping her eyes on her apron as she went. Hagrid, having brought up the rear and squeezed himself arduously through the door, now sat on the hearth, swigging liberally at his flagon and telling Angelina about a time that he had discovered Fred and George in the Forbidden Forest during one of his visits to Aragog.

‘Never seen a more meddlin’ pair ‘an these two I reckon!” he said, his words slurred slightly. ‘’cept you lot.’ he added, gesturing the flagon accusingly at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who all exchanged sheepish smiles.

Mrs Weasley brought out copious amounts of food and they passed the evening feasting on delicious mince pies and treacle tart as they swapped increasingly rude stories about Fred and George’s famous wrongdoings, some of which took Mr and Mrs Weasley so aback they managed to half-heartedly chide George.

As the night progressed, the conversation turned to the events which had transpired following the downfall of Voldemort. The entire ministry was in disarray according to Mr Weasley.

Harry found himself in the kitchen, leaning against the sink and asking about the state of affairs at Hogwarts when Kingsley Shacklebolt strode through the door.

‘Arthur,’ he said solemnly, shaking Mr Weasley’s hand ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for the funeral, I came as soon as I could, the Ministry’s in absolute chaos.’

‘Of course,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘thank you for coming.’

‘Fred was a good man,’ said Kinglsey gravely, ‘Harry,’ he nodded, shaking Harry’s hand also, ‘how are you?’

‘I’m alright,’ replied Harry, ‘How is everything? Is the Ministry going to be okay?’

‘Oh yes, it’ll be fine,’ said Kingsley, shaking his head, ‘The Death Eaters did a number on it but we’ll have it put right soon enough. In fact,’ he added, ‘we could use your help.’ Harry thought about it, considered everything that the Ministry had put him through and a not dissimilar conversation he had had with Scrimgeour a year prior. Kingsley, sensing his apprehension, shrugged,

‘You don’t have to of course, Merlin knows you’ve done enough, we won’t ask you to die for us again.’ he said with a wry smile. Harry smiled back,

‘Yeah, I’ll help,’ said Harry, ‘It’s not like I can go back to school.’ They had received word the previous day that all seventh years who had fought in the battle of Hogwarts would receive an automatic graduation. Hermione was distinctly forlorn at the news and had already written to Professor McGonagall asking to return in September to complete her N.E.W.T.s. Harry smiled at the thought of Ron’s amused though unsurprised face when she had told them of this.

‘Excellent,’ said Kingsley, ‘we can get your Auror training started right away,’

‘Auror?’ said Harry questioningly, ‘really?’

‘Think you’re under-qualified?’ said Kingsley, smiling, ‘defeated any famous dark wizards lately?’ Harry smiled.

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I’d love to be an Auror!’

‘Great!’ said Kingsley, ‘we need a replacement for Dawlish anyway, and in the meantime, there’s plenty of work that needs to be done.’

Kingsley didn’t stay for long after that. He talked briefly with Mrs Weasley, offering his condolences, and shared one drink with the increasingly inebriated party before departing back to the Ministry. On his way out he informed Harry that his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin were safely in the care of the Order and preparing to return to their normal lives, though, he informed him with a jerk of his lips, they could not return to number four, Privet Drive, as the Death Eaters had destroyed it following the battle of the Seven Potters. Harry allowed himself a small smile at the thought of Privet Drive being no more, before bidding Kinglsey farewell and seeing him out into the yard.

After Kinsley had disapparated, Harry lingered in the Garden for some time, looking at the soft mound of dirt marked with a large slab of granite down by the vegetable patch. He leaned on the rough wooden fence and turned his face towards the sky, now clear and smattered with stars. From behind him he heard footsteps but didn’t turn around. He found himself flanked by Ron and Hermione, who joined him in his stargazing.

‘What did Kingsley say?’ asked Ron, resting his elbows on the fence,

‘Wants me to go be an Auror,’ said Harry, considering this avenue further.

‘Cool,’ said Ron admiringly, ‘reckon you’ll be suited to that?’ he shot him a grin.

‘We’ll see I guess,’ said Harry, allowing himself to grin as well. ‘you should join.’ He added, glancing over at Ron.

‘Yeah maybe,’ said Ron thoughtfully looking up at the night sky, ‘I reckon me and Hermione are gonna go to Australia first, find her parents.’ Harry looked over to Hermione, who had a restrainedly hopeful expression.

‘That’s great,’ he said, ‘I hope you find them soon.’

‘Yes,’ said Hermione, ‘well I didn’t put any tracking spells on them in case we were captured and tortured, so it’ll be tricky…’ Ron shrugged,

‘Nothing’s tricky for you Hermione! We’ll probably find them in a week. Plus, we gotta get you back for September first.” He smiled teasingly at her.

‘Yes,’ said Hermione, ‘I don’t want to miss the train! I might have to enchant a car and fly to school,

‘We didn’t enchant the car!’ said Ron indignantly. Hermione laughed.

‘When will you leave?’ asked Harry, glancing between them.

‘Soon.’ Said Hermione plainly, ‘once the dust has settled a bit,’

‘Take food.’ said Harry, grinning at Ron who made a rude gesture in return. Hermione just snorted derisively.

‘Yes, we’d better.’ she said.

They stood at the fence in silence for a while, comfortable soaking up each other’s company as an awareness that they were about to be going their separate ways for the first time in seven years settled over them.

‘I’ll miss you guys.’ said Harry thickly.

‘Yeah mate,’ said Ron encouragingly, ‘we’ll miss you too,’

‘Of course we will,’ said Hermione, placing her hand on Harry’s shoulder, ‘we’ll be back before long.’

‘Yeah,’ added Ron, ‘and we’ll bring you a souvenir, have you heard of these mad things called Kangaroos?’ Harry laughed, Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron loped his arm over Harry’s shoulders. Harry wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, but he felt as though he could stay forever.

Eventually, the two receded and wordlessly wandered back inside, linking arms as they did so. Harry saw them pass a figure in the doorway and recognised Ginny walking across the grass to him, baby Teddy in her arms. As she drew level with him, he saw that Teddy’s hair was now a vivid shade of orange, the exact colour of the Weasleys’ hair. Smiling, Harry drew them both into an embrace, and kissed Ginny softly, cradling her in his arms and looking down at her and Teddy.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she said, kissing his cheek delicately.

‘How do you know?’ he asked looking down into her deep brown eyes.

‘I know.’ she said simply, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘What now?’ he asked, feeling time opening like a maw before him, threatening to swallow him whole. His task had been accomplished; his all-important purpose fulfilled.

‘Now we live.’ She said, tears shining in her eyes, though none fell. ‘There’s work to be done.’ He smiled at the thought. Though Fred and Lupin and Tonks and Sirius and Dumbledore were gone, Ginny was here, and Teddy was here, and Harry, despite all he had been through, was here.

They embraced under the starry sky as a phoenix firework soared past, emitting sparks and tongues of flame and Harry heard its song in his chest and for the first time in seventeen years, contemplated a future that was totally his own.

#harry potter #canon #harry potter canon #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter microfic #hinny #ginny weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger #ronmione #fred weasley #harry potter epilogue #harry potter marauders #I don't want harry to be an auror but its canon compliant #fuck jkr

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hillnerd · 1 year ago

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WAKING UP - CH 15

AO3 FFN Beginning of story | Previous Chapter

chapter word count 13 114

Gigantic thank you to my beta @abradystrix. Check out her work as it's truly lovely writing!

previously in 'Waking Up'(honestly, I recommend re-reading the chapter before as lots of it ties to this chapter)

Ron briefly connects with Ginny and she tells him how worried she is for him before she leaves the Burrow- she had a confrontation with Harry the night before about Ron's safety that the couple are still reeling from.

Ron learns some spells to use in his Combat Readiness Exam. Harry and Ron go to the Ministry for their C.R.E. but are confronted by loads of reporters, including Rita Skeeter. Robbie rescues them with a side room to weigh their wands.

They get ready for their C.R.E. and Ramona is late and looking bedraggled.

It's time for the C.R.E.- it's a hostage situation, they're all wearing the same safety vests as before, and they split up to find the hostage.

Harry Ron Ramona Claudia and Neville take out a team of 3 Aurors- one of which was a rooftop 'sniper' type Auror Ron was able to overpower.

They meet with the other recruits and get the 'hostage dummy' in a flurry of action- Ron's definitely experiencing PTSD symptoms and his arm is doing poorly-

There are 3 'enemy' Aurors left- Robards (head of Aurors), Sealy-Pearce and Musaad. They are in a 'squid room' that deflects spells and dove into the earth.

Neville and Vyse help with his arm that's numb and acting up.

The recruits split up to find the squid, Ramona Claudia Ron and Harry go underground, while the rest are above.

Harry and Ron split off and hear a voice:

"Harry?" came a voice. They both turned to the sound of the feminine voice.

"Was that—?" asked Harry.

"Harry?"

That was Ginny's voice! What was Ginny doing here? Her voice was there, clear as day, but there was no sign of Ron's sister. It had come from a different smaller tunnel.

"Gin?" Harry called out, going down the tunnel a few paces.

"Harry… I don't think—" Ron began.

"Harry?" came Ginny's voice again.

They slowly crept down the tunnel, wand's light being eaten up by the darkness.

"Harry!" They swung their wands and there was Ginny, covered in blood, reaching towards them.

Chapter warnings: cannon level violence, descriptions of cannon dead characters, ptsd symptoms, cursing, hallucinations, nightmarish creepy imagery, spiders, mention of blood and having trouble breathing, implied sexual assault memories, choking and water going up sinuses, reference to dead parent, reference to severely disabled parent, broken bone, characters with limited control of emotions/selves, strong emotions

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CHAPTER 15 - C.R.E. #4

Ron wrenched back from his blood-covered sister, feet submerging in sludgy water.

“You didn’t do enough!” Ginny accused, pointing a bloody finger.

At first Ron thought she was directing her words at himself, but he soon realised she only had her piercing gaze set on Harry.

“Everyone’s dead because of you. You killed Fred. You killed Lupin and Tonks. Dobby and Sirius and Cedric and—”

“Don’t listen, Harry,” said Ron. He tried to step in front of him, but his boot caught fast in the slurry at his feet.

“Bill and George and Dad and Ron and I all nearly died because of you! Everywhere you go, people die for you! You use us as human shields and everyone ends up dead! Ron’s the next one to die becau—”

“Riddikulus!” Ron shouted at his sister. With a crack, she was in clown makeup, complete with clown nose and hat. It wasn’t particularly funny, but at least she wasn’t terrifying anymore.

Harry was pale beside him, eyes wide.

“Nothing that thing said is true,” Ron immediately said. “Not one word of it. Ginny doesn’t think that!”

Harry mutely moved his head in a pale imitation of a nod.

“Fucking Boggarts…” muttered Ron,

pulling at his leg until it squelched with a loud ‘thhhwip’ and came free.

“Here, let’s move before it changes into a giant spider.”

There was a crack behind him. He began to point his wand when he heard the voice rasping, “Got you to scream good and loud for me, didn’t I?”

A claw of terror raked over him, rendering him unable to move, to utter a single word.

That voice brought back every strike, every sensation… It felt like an iron suit of armour had dropped onto his chest from a fourth story window.

He turned and there stood the hulking figure of Otho Crowthers lurching towards him. His brow was as sloped as the last time he’d seen him, his steps as heavy and menacing. It even had that rancid smell of his body and breath. Ron thought he might throw up as that same smell rolled over him. How could the Boggart know the smell of him?

“Riddikulus,” he gasped, waving his wand.

“Bet I can make you scream without a wand… Can’t I?”

“Riddikulus!”

He couldn’t make it funny. He couldn’t think of anything. This wasn’t funny. His mind raced, searching for a way to lighten the darkness that surrounded him, but all he found were the suffocating grip of shame and the gnawing bite of fear.

“Who’s—?” Harry began to ask.

“I like raw meat like you, ginger.”

“Ri-Riddikulus,” Ron croaked.

“You know what I want to do to you? I’m gonna tear—” Crowthers crooned.

“Riddikulus!” cried Harry, stepping in front of the Boggart. Crowthers changed into an oversized Gorilla with a kazoo.

A tsunami of shame overwhelmed him, battering him to and fro until he was a pulp of useless flesh. He couldn’t bear to look over and see Harry grimly studying him.

The things it had said…

Every particle of him wished the cave would collapse on him. He didn’t want to see or be seen. How many times did he have to have his soul ripped out and put on display for his friend?

“Ron, who was that?”

“No one,” his mouth said before his brain could even begin to create an explanation. “Let’s… Let’s…”

“Ron…” He could hear the pleading in Harry’s voice to tell him what was going on; to let him help in some way. He couldn’t give that to him, as much as he wanted to spare his friend an iota of hurt, he just couldn’t.

“Please can we move away from the Boggart? Please?”

He was already pathetic, why not add begging to the mix?

“We can go back to the other tunnel,” agreed Harry, tone horribly gentle. They both ignored the Boggart as it latched onto Harry and turned into a bloody Ron on the ground. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Ron felt a hand on his back and jerked away.

Harry took a deep gulp of air, as if he was about to dive underwater. He tended to do that before an unpleasant conversation topic.

“So,” Harry began, but before he could say more the earth beneath their feet shook, and a great rumble echoed through the tunnels.

“The Squid,” Ron exclaimed, running towards the noise.

Harry hesitated, but quickly caught up with him.

Their wrists heated as their watches showed the message: ‘Found Squid! We’re at a manhole near Bethune! -Claudia’

They didn’t need a map; the crashing of the Squid was practically upon them.

As they rounded the corner, chaos unfolded and the air cracked with magic.

Ramona and Claudia were in the corner throwing spells, taking cover behind fallen stones and fragments of ancient columns.

Through the small red window, the Squid room churned out a destructive onslaught of hexes and blasts, each more destructive than the next.

Harry and Ron joined the fray, launching a flurry of spells, but nothing seems to hurt the Squid.

The Squid's tentacle-like limbs effortlessly blocked each spell, nullifying the magic as if it were nothing more than a puff of air.

“Can’t get anything through!” Ron panted.

Harry’s only response was to yell his spells louder.

One of Harry’s spells deflected off a metallic arm and struck the red window, causing a blink-and-you-miss-it crack to form.

“The window!” Ron yelled at him.

"Aim at the window!" Harry shouted to the team. Claudia and Ramona promptly responded, and the tunnel was alight with destructive spells.

"Reducto!" bellowed Harry. With his final hit, the crack spread across the window.

"We're doing it! It could break!" exclaimed Claudia.

The Squid's massive arms thrashed, striking the tunnel's side with a bone-shaking force and a pillar fell, pinning an arm of the Squid.

The Squid struggled to move, pulling at its trapped arm like a dog tugging at a rope. With a final lurch, it shook itself loose.

A horrifying crunch followed as the pillar was thrown across the alcove, taking out masonry as easily as one would brush away cobwebs.

“GET BACK!” yelled Harry.

Time slowed as pillars of brick crumbled, one brick at a time popping into dust, shaking the stone floor beneath their feet.

The tunnel walls groaned like an old whale, then gave way to the impending collapse.

The ground was gone from beneath Ron.

For a moment he was weightless and his stomach swooped. There was nothing to grab or do, but hang in the air and feel everything falling.

The impact knocked the wind out of him as he landed on unforgiving rocky terrain. Stones and masonry fell around him. He couldn’t breathe, but managed to pull his legs and arms in to protect himself.

The sound of everything collapsing was a deafening roar. Every pitch of sound both high and low was hit at once, surrounding him as he was shaken and hit.

The ground lurched again and he was thrown like a limp doll into darkness.

He struggled through his nose to take in air. He’d had the breath knocked out of him before, and knew what to do, but surrounded by dust and detritus it was hard to feel like his inhales were doing anything.

The cacophony of collapse finally eased.

Amid the darkness, he heard the moans of his companions.

He squinted up and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He found himself trapped between sections of the collapsed floor and a slanted piece of ceiling. He was not able to stand fully upright in the tight space and his arms began to ache.

He was filthy, and from head to waist he was sprinkled in a thin film of rust-coloured dust he tried to wipe off. Each brush against the orange dust only moved it around.

"Everyone okay?" called Claudia from somewhere above him.

"We're down here! We're alright!" came Harry's voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the tunnel we were in, but I don’t see anyone!” cried Claudia.

"Harry?" Ron coughed, swatting away the dust.

"Here!" A wand illuminated, and an orange hand waved from a corner of his alcove. There was a small opening; enough for an arm to fit through, but not enough for a whole body, even one as wiry as Harry's.

Ron peered into the hole.

Harry and Ramona were deep within the crevice, the wall and collapsed floor of the tunnel blocking their escape. Covered head to toe in a much thicker coating of orange dust, they looked like a duo of mutant Crookshankses.

Ron could feel a pressure building around him and the hairs on his neck began to rise. Something was wrong.

"Can you Apparate out?" Claudia called from up above. "I'm afraid to move any of this rubble without help. I don’t want to cause another collapse!"

Ron attempted to Apparate, but the anti-Apparition Ward was still in place. "I can’t Apparate. We'll have to wait until everyone regroups."

"Got you to scream good and loud for me."

Ron whipped his head around, certain the sound had originated from behind, but there was no Boggart in sight, just stone and dust motes still settling.

"Harry, do you see the Boggart?" he asked.

"No," Harry quietly replied, before adding, “but I can hear Ginny again.”

"You hear Ginny?" Ron questioned. “Can you hear anyone else?”

“No… Why? What do you hear?”

“Mum?” called Ramona.

“Ramona, what do you hear?” asked Harry.

“It’s… It’s my Mum… She’s begging for help… You said it was a Boggart? Where is it?”

Ron couldn’t hear Ginny or Ramona’s Mum.

A bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Hermione’s.

“Ron! Please! Help!”

He stood and yelled into the dark, “Riddikulus!”

But there was nothing to see, nothing to transform into something humorous.

The pressure from before was pounding on Ron now. He could feel the magic of the place swarming them. They were surrounded by it.

“I reinforced the walls so you won’t get crushed,” called Claudia. “But I’m nervous to move anything on my own up here. Hold tight- we’ll have the others help soon!”

“WHERE IS IT?” screamed Ramona.

“I— I don’t…” Ron began— but Hermione was screaming as she did in the Manor as Crowthers crooned in Ron’s ears what he’d do to them. “Harry? Do you see it?”

He knelt down and peered into the darkness expecting to see Harry next to the opening, but his friend was bent over, hands on his ears.

“Harry!” Ron yelled at him.

Harry shook his head, green eyes wide and unseeing.

Ramona was pacing the back of the room, arms clutched around her middle. “We have to get out of here! They’re going to get us!”

“Who?” asked Ron.

“The Snatchers are coming!”

“Ramona, It’s not real! Whatever you’re hearing, it’s not—”

Hermione’s screams ripped through him.

Ramona was in the corner screaming. “Mum! Mummy! No! Please, Please!”

Harry on the ground with hands over his ears muttering to himself. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry!”

“Mate, it’s okay, we’re going to get you out of there!”

“I’m so sorry!” cried Harry.

“Riddikulus!” Ron shouted again, but nothing stopped the cacophony of terror; it rang through him as screams and nightmares flooded his ears.

“Someone tell me what’s happening!” Claudia pled.

“We’re… We’re hearing things!” he managed to say between hitched sobs. When had he started crying? Why couldn’t he Apparate to Hermione? He had to get out of the cellar! No… No he wasn’t in Malfoy Manor.

“Ron! Please help me,” sobbed Hermione before letting out another blood-curdling scream.

“Hermione!” he called back, punching the wall, but nothing helped.

A quicksand of fear was pulling him ever down down down. He wiped at his face, which was wet with something. Tears? Blood?

Where was he? Everything was dark… He couldn’t Apparate to Hermione! She needed him, or Crowthers would… Wait, she wasn’t there with him. He was alone… How… How did they get them all in Malfoy’s cellar again?

“I’m going to make you scream,” growled Crowthers.

He punched at the walls. He had to get to her! He couldn’t let Crowthers touch her!

He could see her on the other side, small and pale as she was dragged along the floor by her hair. She didn’t even flinch as she was thrown onto a stump and tied in place.

“Hermione!” He screamed and sobbed, but couldn’t get to her. His hands were bleeding as he madly scrabbled for her. “Hermione!”

Spiders of every size were crawling over him and he nearly vomited as their sharp little legs caught on his skin.

He tried to shake them off and get to Hermione, but blood was on the ground,slowly oozing towards him, and Crowther’s toxic breath was in his nostrils.

“Ron!” came an insistent voice from above him.

He shook his head. His mind felt flayed open, a rupture of raw hurt and confusion.

“Please answer me, Ron! What’s going on down there?!”

Suddenly Malfoy’s cellar was brightly lit, blinding him as he sobbed into the ground.

“Christ— he’s covered in Boggart dust! Put your shirt over your face or bubblehead charm yourself,” came a male voice.

There were murmurs, but the main thing he heard was Crowthers in his ear whispering, “tell me your name, pretty…”

A hand latched into him and he could see Fred, corpse pale, blood pooling down his neck and bits of brain falling onto the ground.

“It should’ve been you… George even said so,” said Fred without malice. He was right.

“Ron, don't let him kill me!” pleaded Hermione, tears in her eyes.

His head was wrenched back, and he threw an elbow trying to stop Crowthers. A stinging rush of something went up his nose. It had to be spiders crawling up inside his face scrabbling and tearing out his brain to lay eggs.

He was drowning and gagging as water flushed through his sinuses.

“Sorry, we need to get it all out of you,” a voice apologised.

“Get… What? Weneedta get Hermione…” he slurred. Another course of water flushed up his nose and down his throat, making him retch on the ground. He was sprayed down, and the cold made every muscle twitch.

“I needta stop ‘im… Crowthers!”

Hermione screamed in his ears and he struggled to get to her, not minding the sting of the cuts in his hands.

“He needs at least one more flush out once I pass him up to you,” said a male voice.

His teeth chattered as a spell lifted him into light.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like we need to do it once more, Ron,” someone said before water flushed through his sinuses a third time, stinging his eyes and even the inside of his cheek bones.

He coughed and felt snot dripping from his nose and hocked even more of it on the ground.

A warm hand was on his shoulder.

“You with me?”

He squinted up into the face of Neville.

“Nev?”

“Yes! Where are you?”

“I’m…” Ron blinked around the dark cavernous room. It wasn’t Malfoy Manor. It was well-lit compared to the hole he’d been in. Hermione wasn’t there. Crowthers wasn’t there… Fred and the spiders were gone… “The… The C.R.E. In a tunnel.”

“That’s right,” he nodded, giving a tight grin. Neville had the film of a bubblehead charm around his face, and Ron belatedly discovered he had one as well. The charm slightly distorted his view and made his breath feel hot on his face.

With a sudden realisation he scrambled for the hole they’d just lifted him from. “Oh fuck, we need to get Harry!”

“We’re getting him. It’s going to be okay, Ron,” said Neville, gently pushing him back until he was lying against the wall.

For some reason Ron started crying again. His voice was broken as deep sobs shook him. He wrapped his arms around himself. “M’sorry!”

“Don’t apologise. You all fell into an old Boggart breeding den, it looks like. That’s what Vyse said, anyway. There’s ‘Boggart dust’ everywhere. It basically makes you mad with fear and hallucinations until it works its way out of your system fully. Emotions of every kind will be intense for a bit, so we’ll stay here until you’re feeling up to moving.”

Ron looked over the side as he continued to cry.

The stones keeping Harry and Ramona imprisoned were floated aside.

“Spray down the area first, then we’ll get them individually,” ordered Vyse.

He could hear Ramona sobbing and screaming for her mother, but nothing from Harry. For minutes he waited, but he still hadn’t heard Harry’s voice.

Ron shook his head. “I need to help.”

“We’ve got it,” said Neville.

“No you don’t. Not with Harry.” Ron stood on wobbly knees and unshrunk his broom. They didn’t understand! Ron had seen Harry afraid before and he knew what he was capable of. He had been on the receiving end of punches as Harry was rent out of nightmares, and had seen his friend destroy an oak door because it slammed too hard.

He flew down to ground they’d cleared of Boggart dust. Ramona was sobbing on the ground, struggling against Theold as Vyse attempted to Aguamenti her face.

Harry was shaking, but otherwise limp on the ground, arm protectively grasping his shoulder with white knuckles. He was wet all over, a bubble charm in place.

“Ron? Shouldn’t you be up with Neville?” asked Kevin.

“M’fine,” he said, kneeling beside Harry. “Harry? You okay?”

“He hasn’t responded to any of us, and we’ve flushed him out like five times,” said Claudia, worry pinching her features.

For a moment Ron considered putting a restraint on Harry, but the thought of doing that to him after whatever he’d been forced to listen to was repugnant.

“Harry, I need to get some water into you again. It’s going to sting. Can you hear me?”

Harry stared ahead with open eyes, tear tracks or water running down his cheeks— Ron couldn’t tell which.

He removed the bubble charm.

“Aguamenti,” whispered Ron with a shaking voice. His own face was wet with tears again as he flushed Harry’s face with water and his friend barely flinched.

“Harry, wake up!” Ron said, giving his friend a shake.

“Flush him again,” he dimly heard Vyse say.

Ron performed another ‘aguamenti’ and with a start Harry flinched and vomited up orange tinged water on the ground.

“That’s it, get it all out,” Ron croaked.

Harry choked and spasmed before his bleary eyes caught Ron’s.

“R-Ron?” he whimpered.

“Yeah! Yeah it’s me,” Ron blubbered, unable to stop himself. Fucking Boggarts…

Claudia washed off Harry’s glasses and handed them to Ron. He put them in place and cast another bubble head charm on Harry.

Harry was pale and patted his hand along the ground for his wand.

“Here,” said Ron, handing it to him.

His friend took the wand, but didn’t try to move again. As Ron explained the Boggart dust, he could feel the wet tracks down his face and a gross itch at his nose. He wished he could wipe his face, but that might get more dust on him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ron urged.

Harry weakly nodded, and limply let Ron guide him to a standing position.

“Here Ron, let me help,” said Kevin.

He put a hand on Ron’s back.

It felt like Crowthers was about to rut against him and he gave a small cry of alarm at the contact.

In an instant Harry wrenched away, his features twisting into an angry snarl. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Before anyone could react, a spell hurtled through the chamber, a destructive projectile hitting Kevin squarely in the chest. The large recruit flew into the wall with a gut-wrenching crunch before he vanished into thin air.

"Oh, shit!" Ron's exclamation mirrored the collective shock, his mind racing as panic and disbelief battled for dominance.

“What the fuck, Harry?” asked Theold, pointing his wand at Harry. All the wands were on Harry.

“Wait!” Ron said, standing in front of him. “It was an accident! It’s the Boggart dust. Don’t—”

Ropes were around Harry in an instant, and his friend let out an aborted cry before toppling.

“I’m sorry!” squeaked Claudia.

Ron knelt beside Harry as he shook on the ground, writhing like a mad man.

“Harry… Harry please snap out of it…”

“More water,” said Vyse, pushing Harry to a seated position. “You hold him, I’ll flush him out.”

Ron got behind him, putting Harry’s back against his own chest.

“Ready?” asked Vyse.

“Do it, already!” he said through gritted teeth, as Harry struggled and nearly hit Ron in the nose with the back of his thrashing head.

After what seemed like an endless stream of water Ron stopped them.

“Harry? You okay?”

“Wh-what?” came Harry’s voice, sounding so small it didn’t sound like him at all. “Ron? What… What happened?”

“You fucking spelled Kevin into the wall and now we’re down a man!” spat Theold.

“I… I what?” asked Harry.

He looked feeble and lost. Ron had seen Harry like this only a few times. When he spoke Parseltongue in second year. When he’d seen Cedric die. When he’d seen Dad nearly die. When Sirius was dead. When he’d held Dobby.

He might have been reliving those nights.

“It’s okay. He’ll be fine,” Ron assured him.

Harry’s eyes shifted his way, haunted, glossy and unsure. Then Ron’s arms were holding nothing. His friend was gone in an instant.

Ron stared at the spot where Harry had just been.

The vest had taken Harry out of the Exam.

“What the fuck?!”

“Looks like they realised he was a harm to himself and others,” snorted Theold.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, THEOLD!” Ron snarled.

A sear of vitriol scorched his insides until nothing was left but a burning hot coal.

Who were the Aurors to decide to take Harry away? Who was going to be there for Harry when he’d had to listen to Merlin knows what? They’d ripped him away and Ron had barely begun to comfort him. Had they put this snarl of Boggart dust on purpose?

Every bit of hate he’d felt now pointed in one direction: The Auror Department.

He was going to destroy them. He didn’t know how long it’d take, but he was going to dismantle them, and every one of their sick tests. He wouldn’t rest until every single person responsible for the fucked up nightmares he and Harry, and even fucking Ramona, had gone through, paid.

“Should… What should we do?” Claudia asked.

Ron glared at the group the moment eyes turned to him. “Stop fucking looking at me! I don’t know, okay?”

He stalked away from them.

He was sick and fucking tired of this stupid fucking exam, and all of them gormlessly staring at him every time they don’t know what to do.

They were still watching him in anticipation.

“Why don’t you come up with some ideas, eh? The one person who always knows what to do got fucking tortured and ripped out of here to wherever the fuck, and I’m—” He gripped his arms around himself and squeezed until his ribs ached. “I’m no one, and you’re looking at me like I have answers! I don’t have any fucking answers! I’m fucking tired and this is fucked. We’re fucked and —”

He stopped himself, seeing their faces for the first time since Harry’s disappearance. They were watching him with large eyes, not one of them moving.

They were scared.

He couldn’t stay angry.

Harry was supposed to be invincible. Hell, to them, they probably thought Ron was a bit invincible too— which still felt like putting on a jacket two sizes too small. Ramona was one of their toughest and she was still crying and rocking on the ground.

They were all shook by it.

And now that he’d yelled at them, they probably were a touch worried they’d need to have Ron in ropes like Harry.

He let out a sigh. “Okay…”

He rolled his neck, trying to buy a moment to think.

“I’m sorry… It’s okay, we’re not fucked.”

He fleetingly wished he could touch his face. He hadn’t realised how often he wiped his hands over his face and through his hair as he thought. He wanted to push on his head and hopefully wring out a wild hare idea like one would a wet towel.

“We need to get out of this hole in the ground.”

“And we’ll need to take a moment to recover,” said Vyse with a tiny nod at Ramona.

“Right,” said Ron, taking a steadying breath. No one knew what she’d been through, but he had the closest idea of it.

He didn’t like her. Not one bit. She hated him and Harry for no reason and was surly, rude, prideful, irrational; just about everything he disdained… but she’d clearly been through something terrible.

“You lot go on up. I’ll sort things out here.”

All the recruits quickly did as he said, leaving him with Ramona; All, save Neville.

“Nev…” Ron began.

“I’m only here as back up,” he said, putting his hands up and wedging himself in the far corner.

He wasn’t sure how much Neville could do if Ramona were to go full feral on him at close proximity, but he appreciated the gesture.

He decided approaching Ramona like a wounded animal was best. He’d been around a skittish animal or two over the years. He wasn’t great with beasts, but he could try.

Despite knowing she’d probably hate him more for it, he knelt down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She twitched but let it remain as sobs continued to shake through her.

“They got the powder off of you, right?”

She nodded and gave a vociferous sniff.

“I know it may be hard, but you need to stop thinking about things from the past. Think of right now, this moment.”

Her face seems to crumple further and her eyebrows scrunched together.

“Don’t try to be nice to me! You hate me!” she cried.

“I don’t hate you,” Ron said, but couldn’t stop himself from adding. “I don’t particularly like you- but—”

“No- you should hate me,” she said with a shake of her head, scowl turning ugly and slightly unhinged, “because I hate you! You and Potter.”

“Shock and horror, what a surprise!” Ron feigned, rolling his eyes.

“I’m only sorry they didn’t kick you out with crazy Potter.”

Ron immediately dropped all pretence of politeness.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” He looked to the ceiling. “Was your Dad a Death Eater or something? Fucking hell…”

A sharp, almost manic laugh escaped from Ramona's lips. "My dad isn't anything anymore."

Ron's confusion deepened, his anger momentarily clouded by her cryptic statement.

"Okay?" he responded, concern and exasperation uncomfortably mixing together.

She brooded on the ground, no answer forthcoming. Fuck it.

“At the end of this exam, either I never have to see you again or we’re going to be co workers. Either way, I’m over this. What is it, Ramona? You said you hate me and Harry— so why? What the fuck have we ever done to you?”

Ramona's gaze bore into his, her eyes holding a world of pain and resentment.

“You’ve never done anything!” she yelled, acid and venom in every syllable.

“What does that mean?!” he roared back.

“It means you are the biggest disappointments I’ve ever had to meet!” she bit. “September first last year. Do you remember what you did that day?”

Of course he remembered. Every instant he could perfectly recall, until he was splinched; then it all got rather blurry.

He nodded his head, but began to dread what might come out of her mouth.

“You lot saved the Cattermoles. The Joneses. Cynthia Dooley. Robbie Reins. And more! I know the name of every person you saved that day,” she said with a sniff. “My parents are both Muggleborn… And my Dad reported to the Muggleborn Commission Registry September the first, but he didn’t escape.”

Ron’s stomach dropped.

“When we realised Dad wasn’t coming back, the rest of us ran for it. My Muggle-born mum, myself and my little sister…” Her voice trembled with emotion.

“I was so stupid… I really thought you might help my family like you did the rest. I kept telling my little sister you three were going to end the war. That we’d be safe. You’d save dad eventually!”

She turned her head down to her lap.

“They captured my sister and took her back to Hogwarts. That’s when they killed Mum,” she said, almost conversationally.

“I listened to Potterwatch every day hoping you might do something to help. Maybe free prisoners from Azkaban, strike the Ministry again, or free everyone from Hogwarts. Anything to help!”

Big tears formed in her eyes.

“But you never did.”

Shame wasn't a new feeling to Ron; he felt it daily for over a decade. It was a heavy cloak he'd worn since his earliest memories, a cloak woven from threads of poverty, indifference, and perceived inadequacy.

Growing up poor in the cramped Burrow, he had often felt the sting of shame as his hand-me-down clothes bore the marks of his older brothers' wear. There was an ever-present whisper in the back of his mind, telling him he was the unwanted sixth boy when his mother had secretly yearned for a daughter. The weight of shame had pressed even harder when he compared himself to his accomplished siblings and friends. And there were the insecurities he carried with him into adulthood. The gnawing fear he was never enough, not as a wizard, not as a friend, not even as a person. The lurking doubt he was merely a sidekick to Harry, forever in his shadow. The dread he'd never live up to the expectations of his friends, his family, or himself.

A litany of inadequacies played in his mind every day, echoing the voices of those who had ever doubted him.

Ramona's tears fell, and her words found a familiar dwelling place among the many shadows of shame that already haunted him. He wanted to explain, to tell her how much he'd wanted to do all those things she'd hoped for, but the words caught in his throat.

He had a wider group of people he’d let down than ever before. How many more people were out there cursing him for not doing enough?

Neville, who had been listening quietly, interjected, “Ramona… They did help. They were the most responsible for ending the war.”

“Not in time!” Ramona pressed on, her words heavy with pain. “My sister was tortured in that school— Dad got a Dementor’s kiss a couple of weeks before the Battle at Hogwarts. If they’d done something my dad might still be… be my dad.”

“Ramona…” Neville insisted. “It’s terrible what happened to your family. But this is not on Ron or Harry or Hermione. They’re just teenagers and it was a — ”

“Just teenagers?” Ramona spat, eyes falling to Ron. “I thought maybe… maybe you were ‘just teenagers’ when I finally met you at the first exam. I thought maybe I had been delusional, thinking anyone as entitled and lazy as you could be a hero… But then I saw you duel, how you flew, and how you lead…”

She shook her head.

“You’re not ‘just some teens!’ I’ve seen you! You’re amazing in the field. It’s like watching real-life superheroes… You broke into the Ministry, and Gringott’s and Hogwarts and saved so many families. You’re good and smart, and I had to watch as you helped family after family, but never mine!”

“That’s enough!” Neville said standing up. “You know that’s not fair, right? To expect them to save everyone?”

“They could've saved my family!” Her hard look crumbled and Ron wondered how young she was. She looked small and he found all the lingering anger at Ramona became brittle as tears welled in her eyes. “S-someone could’ve…”

Ron slowly slid down next to her.

"I’m sorry…” said Ron, not exactly sure what he meant by it. It was everything and nothing. It was a condolence for someone who had lost so much. It was an apology for not doing enough to end the war sooner. It was empty words to soothe someone whose anger and mourning he could endlessly empathise with. It was a place holder so he didn’t shout at the injustice of it all, or the injustice of being blamed. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.”

“Don’t apologise, Ron,” said Neville, voice surprisingly stern. “You did what you could, and it was so much… You don’t have a thing to apologise for.”

Part of Ron wanted to agree and tell Ramona off for her delusions. What did she think he was? How could she think him capable of saving her family? It was completely demented!

But… But he still wished he could’ve done it. Even if it was barmy and unrealistic and impossible…

And he had to wonder, how many other families had they let down? How many other people died or had their lives destroyed because they took too long gathering Horcruxes?

“So…” Ron managed to say through a tight voice. “Is it just you and your sister, now?”

“My dad’s not dead… I take care of him when his nurse can’t. That's why I was late for this exam—we’d run out of catheters and it was a huge mess, and then he puked, and I couldn't leave my sister alone with that. His nurse didn't show up because of a flat tire, and— and…”

“That sounds like a lot," Neville's voice cut through, a mix of understanding and sympathy. If anyone could understand ‘losing’ a parent, but they’re still alive, it was Neville.

Ramona nodded, her tears continuing to fall, and for a moment, amidst the pain and regret, a fragile connection formed between them all.

“Shall we join the others?” asked Neville.

Ron nodded while Ramona bit her lip.

“I don’t know how useful I can be, right now,” she said, voice smaller than he’d ever heard it.

“Ramona,” said Ron, standing up with a small groan. “You’re strong; tough as shit and mean as a fucking bag of rabid badgers. Let’s use that and end this exam, okay? Then you can throw darts at my photo or whatever you do in your spare time.”

Somehow that made her snort and a small smile flickered across her face.

“So… are you ready to kick arse?” he asked, finally noticing how sore his shoulders were from stooping.

She nodded and accepted a ride on his broom to the surface level.

“All good?” asked Vyse as they squinted into the sunny street.

“Yeah,” said Ron, giving his body one more Aguamenti before removing the bubble charm.

They were expectantly watching him, but this time he had a plan, a clear mind, and a fiery coal of hate against the Ministry keeping him going.

“Claudia, did you put a tracking mark on the Squid?”

She nodded the affirmative and did a Point Me spell.

“Brilliant. Okay we can hunt it down properly, now,” he said looking at his map. “When we were underground we weren’t able to hurt the Squid, except the red window. Harry managed to crack it. We need to break it to pieces and get the Aurors to leave the Squid.”

“Why would they leave it?” asked Ramona. “It can defend everything we throw at it.”

“Only if the arms are moving,” he said. “For a second, as the tunnel collapsed, an arm got stuck. If we get its arms stuck and bust through the window, we can get them.”

“It burrowed into the ground last time. Is there a way to prevent that from happening again?” asked Vyse.

“At the corner of the map,” said Ron, expanding the shrunk map from his arm for all to see and pointed to a spot. “Harry and I got to the edge and hit an invisible barrier. I’d wager the Squid can’t get past it either.”

“And once we get the Aurors out?” asked Theold.

“We need to split the Aurors up. If we get them in the open, we might stand a chance.”

“If they’re an easier target out in the open, we are too,” noted Neville. The corners didn’t offer much cover either.

“Then we’ll have given them a bloody good show for their money.”

The group grinned at one another.

“That’s all they want anyways,” Ron added in an undertone.

In minutes, the plan was in motion, and the recruits were positioned. Vyse and Ramona soared through the air on their brooms to strategically herd the Squid toward the designated corner of the map.

Ron, Neville, Theold, and Claudia waited with bated breath for the moment the Squid would come their way.

The waiting was absolutely interminable, and soon bated breaths turned to sighs and huffs.

The high sun had shifted and the shadows were growing long across the alley.

Standing at the ready in their buildings made his shoulders ache and hands twitch for something to do. The stillness of waiting let his exhaustion slowly take over. He was counting bricks to stay awake, when a tiny lone beetle landed on the sill.

The black beetle marched along, swaying to and fro as a small breeze tried to buffet it about. Its little legs made it positively waddle.

He let out a snort, and Claudia began to watch it too, an amused look on her face.

The two let out a small laugh as the beetle tripped over a nail and fell over, its small legs wildly flailing for purchase.

“Oh no,” Claudia let out, trying to poke it off its back without touching its little insect legs. Her compassion for the little bug reminded him of Hermione; she was always cooing at gross little things.

He told as much to Claudia as he pushed the beetle over for her, not minding touching it. Somehow beetles weren’t the same as spiders.

“She had a soft spot for Kreacher even, and he’d been calling her slurs for years!” laughed Ron.

“How did you and Hermione get together?” Claudia asked, a sappy look on her face he’d seen girls get about anything remotely romantic.

“Dazzled her with my good looks and charm,” he joked, watching the beetle nestle down and take a rest, no doubt exhausted from its time flailing.

Neville let out a snort.

Claudia watched Ron expectantly, a broad smile on her face.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t entirely those,” he conceded with a small laugh.

“Those two were dancing around each other for years,” said Neville with a rueful shake of his head. “We thought sixth year it’d happen. Dean, Seamus and I had a betting pool and everything.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” said Ron. “Eventually I got my head out of my arse… ”

“How long have you been together?” asked Claudia.

“Only a month or so, but I’ve been mad about her for years. I mean, she’s brilliant and beautiful and has this wicked passion about every single thing she does. And she’s fucking brave, it’s unbelievable. She sacrificed so much during the war, but even before, she’s the most kickarse witch I’ve ever met.”

Theold rolled his eyes while Neville and Claudia grinned at him.

His cheeks reddened as he realised how much a gushing sap he was being.

“Anyway, that’s part of why I’m joining the Aurors; so I can help her out when we get our signing bonus.”

“That’s so sweet!” Claudia sighed, her curiosity sated.

“Didn’t you win the Order of Merlin?” asked Theold. “You get thousands of galleons with that— no need for a piddly signing bonus.”

Ron’s head swung round to look at Theold. He didn’t seem to be joking.

“Yeah, my gran said something like that,” Neville confirmed with a nod.

“Oh…” said Ron, not sure how to respond. Did he not need the Auror money after all? The thought of having his own money was nice… but he wasn’t sure he liked it coming from his time in the war…

“How ‘bout you? Why are you joining up?” he asked Claudia, happy to have the attention away from his money matters and his soppiness for his girlfriend.

Claudia gave an embarrassed look.

“I don’t know… I just… The war was terrible, and I didn’t feel like I got to help the way I wanted.” Her posture slowly fell.

“How so?” asked Neville.

“When I read history books, I’d sometimes sit and think ‘ohhh if I had lived in that time period, I would have helped lead a rebel cause, or saved people!’ I thought very grandly of myself… But I didn’t do much of anything and didn’t know how to. I only worked at a farm with rescue animals. I wasn’t part of anything…”

“What kind of animals?”

“All kinds of magical pets— cats, owls, goats, rats— you name them. During the war there were so many animals homeless or hurt. That’s how I got good at tracking spells, and it didn’t hurt with my flying either. We’d get a floo or owl telling us about an abandoned animal, and I’d go in to retrieve it then rehab the animal, if needed,” she said with a shrug. “But I wasn’t like you or your friends. I didn’t save anyone.”

“Sounds like you saved a lot of someone’s pets, though,” said Neville. “I’m sure all those pets’ owners would be happy to know they were in good hands.”

She glumly leaned against the window.

“Not everyone is going to be on the front lines, but you were where you were needed,” said Ron. “If something happened to me, I’d want to know my little Pig was okay.”

“You own a pig?” Theold asked.

“Ooo really?” squealed Claudia.

“Oh! No, that’s my owl,” Ron snorted. The rest of the recruits shared grins. “Don’t look at me like that, my little sister named him.”

“I didn’t say anything!” she laughed.

“Pushover,” said Theold, a vaguely amused look on his face.

“You know… You’re a lot less scary than you seem in the papers,” said Claudia.

“I seem scary?” Ron asked, flabbergasted that anyone could find him intimidating, let alone that he had a reputation for it.

“Mhmm!” she brightly hummed. “The pictures all make you look brooding, and the papers all write about ‘eight foot tall Weasley and his terrible temper’— how you were like a fearsome bodyguard for Harry.”

Bemused, Ron continued to look at the beetle. Him? Brooding and fearsome? He’d only skimmed a few articles before chucking them in a fury, but hadn’t imagined something like that…

“I mean, you are unreasonably tall,” added Theold with a snort from the corner.

“And you definitely can be scary when you’re mad, but… You’re nice. And smart. They didn’t say anything about that.”

He gave a small grunt. Of course they didn’t. “Maybe they called me a smart arse.”

“Your plans have been smashing,” she said with certainty. “If I don’t get to be an Auror… It’s been nice getting to know you.”

“I’m sure you’ll pass. You’ve done really well.”

“Nothing like you.”

Unsure of how to answer, Ron looked to the ceiling. It was cracked and peeling.

He wished he knew how to comfort her, but as usual he wasn’t sure what to do. Ron wasn’t good with words. Funny asides he was okay at… With Harry and Hermione at least.

“If I learned one thing,” he began, trying to comb out a good way to say it, “comparing your achievements with others only leads to heartache. Believe me, I had six siblings and Harry fucking Potter as measuring sticks for years.”

She let out a small laugh.

“Okay, that helps,” she acknowledged. “What about you, Theold? Why are you joining?”

“Because I’d be awesome at it.”

“Come on! Why really?”

He gave a shrug. “Sometimes it’s not that deep. I would be awesome at it.”

“Theooold,” Claudia complained.

“Ask Longbottom.”

“Fine! Neville? Why are you joining?”

Neville thought about it in silence before answering, “this seems like where I’m needed.”

Neville and Ron shared a smile.

“See? Not everyone is a mushy sap like Weasley,” said Theold with a sly smile.

Ron was about to protest when their wrists heated.

‘Nearly there! -Vyse’

Ron shooed the beetle away. “Get out of here, little guy. Don’t want you getting crushed in the upcoming duels.”

With a few pushes of his finger, the beetle buzzed off.

Wands at the ready, they crouched. His thighs twitched like coiled springs, and the agonised suspense took over him. A strange cocktail of fatalistic relief and a blaze of resentment surged within him as the Squid approached. He hated every person in that thing…

He heard the Squid before he saw it. Each step it took viciously crunched into the ground.

Through a small crack in the wall he spied the tiny figures of Vyse and Ramona weaving a path behind the Squid on their brooms like a pair of herding dogs in a field. The moment the Squid turned down an alley, they’d zip to the other side and head it off.

The earth trembled into a chaotic dance as the Squid stampeded down the alley, its metallic appendages thrashing.

“NOW!” Ron's command cut through the chaos, and the recruits launched themselves into action.

Cobblestones exploded, and rubble flew as Ron and Claudia threw forward their ropes. The thick cables wrapped along the length of one of the Squid arms. Its arm was secured to the concrete barriers in the street.

Meanwhile, Theold and Neville did the same to the other side, leaving two arms of the Squid stretched tight.

The ropes strained and the bestial Squidroom thrashed and groaned at the effort.

The ground-recruits fled as Vyse and Ramona flew around the remaining tentacle-like legs and tied them off.

“GET CLEAR!” Neville yelled as he and Theold set off the explosive spells.

The percussive blast sent rubble flying, and if not for shield charms, Ron might have had his skull split by a flying chunk of cement the size of a quaffle.

The buildings on either side of the Squid remained standing for only a moment before collapsing in a sea of dust and particulates, locking the Squid in place.

He could barely see the Aurors inside, but none were standing after the impact to the Squid.

This was their chance.

“THE WINDOW!” Ron bellowed.

As one, the recruits aimed their spells at the blood-red glass. Unable to dodge or deflect spells, the already cracked window shattered.

The recruits continued the assault on the jagged window, but soon spells met theirs, and the Aurors emerged.

A white-hot spell snapped through the air and nearly hit Ron in the temple. He pulled his head back and nearly lost his balance behind a pillar.

He activated his watch:

‘Split up! -Ron’

Ramona and Theold converged like a whirlwind on Sealy-Pearce. Across the fray, Robards squared off against Vyse and Neville, a furious tempest of spells erupting around them.

Claudia ran towards Ron when a red spell hit her from behind. She gave the smallest of ‘eeps’ before her vest disappeared along with her.

Behind her disappearing form, wand raised, stood Musaad.

Spells blazed through the air, creating a kaleidoscope of magic as recruits fought tooth and nail against the fierce Aurors. And then there was Ron. He had no partner. It was him against the best dueller he’d ever met. He was on his own, and in the open.

‘Get to cover! Get to cover!’ raced through his mind.

He ran.

Ron scrambled across the rubble-covered cobblestones, his movements far from agile as he evaded the barrage.

He blindly cast a stinging hex. It must have hit its mark, for Musaad gave a grunt. Despite any injury, Musaad didn’t slow an iota.

Ron had to climb over a downed wall on all fours to avoid a crack of spells. The jagged stones clawed at his palms, but he ignored the discomfort, his sole focus on reaching the nearby building.

Spells crashed all around, and shards of debris tore and whirled around him.

He finally reached the building and hurled himself through the shattered doorway. The room was a dim, wooden chamber with peeling wallpaper, and offered minimal cover. He realised, with a sinking feeling, that he'd be a sitting—

‘DUCK!’ the command echoed in his ears as his instincts took over.

He dropped to the floor as a lethal bolt of magic snapped viciously beside him. The spell collided with the cracked wall, sending splinters raining down like deadly raindrops. A fair few punctured his arm and he let out a hiss.

Ron's heart raced as he scrambled to his feet, wand in hand.

“Fuck!” he let out as a purple spell was hurled his way.

He flicked his wand, barely conjuring a shield in time.

Musaad's assault rebounded off the barrier, unleashing a shockwave through the room's walls. Wooden beams groaned, and dust and debris filled the air like a choking fog.

The scent of scorched wood and ozone hung heavy in the air as Ron crouched behind his meagre flickering shield. He couldn't last long staying pinned down like this.

Seconds seemed stretched into agonising minutes as Ron tried to formulate a plan.

He didn’t have the element of surprise on his side. They weren’t trapped in the confines of a duelling ring — Musaad was free-range and relentless!

Ron’s breaths came in ragged gasps as the shield's surface flickered, its strength waning with every spell Musaad hurled his way.

‘Move it, Weasley!’

With a surge of determination, he threw the shield towards Musaad and cast a Conjunctivitus curse, temporarily blinding the man. Ron tried to bolt deeper into the building, but the floorboards creaked with each heavy step and Musaad quickly spelled him through an already crumbling wall, inches away from hitting a brick fireplace. Damn, he needed to avoid hard surfaces… Or did he?

His body ached and protested, but he pushed himself from the ground and ran further into the building. Ron managed to send a few spells back at Musaad. One spell grazed Musaad's shoulder, leaving a searing mark on his robe, while another sunk Musaad’s feet into a swamp-like mire, buying Ron precious seconds to widen the space between them.

If he could get Musaad in close quarters with hard surfaces, Ron might be able to beat him. If he missed with a precision spell, at least Musaad might get thrown into something that could incapacitate him.

"Where's... A... Fucking... Bathroom?!" he muttered to himself. his frantic search taking him from room to room.

Musaad's spells pursued him relentlessly, each one an intimidating reminder of his adversary's expertise. The gap between them was closing fast. Musaad prowled after his prey with precision and didn’t even seem winded, while Ron flailed and felt his lungs burning to shreds.

For an instant he dared to look back as he ran up the stairs.

“Weasley, you can’t keep running,” said Musaad, a glint of mirth in his eyes.

Ron burst through another door, finding himself in yet another narrow wooden hallway.

And then, at last, he found it.

An old, tiled bathroom stood before him, complete with a porcelain tub and sink; it was the perfect battleground.

Musaad sent a quick series of hexes Ron’s way, and he narrowly blocked them, but was forcibly thrown into the room across from the bathroom.

The room was cluttered with overturned furniture and shattered remnants of what once might have been a bedroom.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he regained his footing. With unsure movements he began to cast the unfamiliar spell. He’d just finished swiping his want through the air, when it was wrenched from his hand.

Musaad had taken up the doorway and disarmed him, easily catching Ron’s wand.

“Looks like you’re disarmed, Weasley.”

“Looks like it,” said Ron, slowly rising as Musaad’s wand was pointed at his chest.

“Hands up,” said Musaad, doing a small indication with his wand. Ron complied, slowly raising his hands, his fingers trembling with fatigue. Blood trickled from a small cut on his forehead, mingling with the sweat clinging to his brow.

“You’ve been a worthy opponent,” said Musaad, raising his wand and taking a deliberate step forward into the room.

Musaad’s foot landed on a floorboard that twisted and whipped him across the hall like a slingshot. Musaad crashed back-first into the porcelain tub, a loud groan escaping his lips as the wands slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground.

With a ferocity born of desperation, Ron ran at him. He didn’t bother going for the wands— he let his fist fly. Pain seared through his hand, and he was fairly certain he'd broken a knuckle, but the satisfaction of seeing Musaad's condescending smirk wiped away was worth the agony.

Musaad finally lay still, face punchdrunk and unfocused.

Ron tapped the shield badge on Musaad's chest with his trembling fingers, activating the portkey spell that would send his adversary to the same unknown destination Harry had been sent earlier.

As Musaad disappeared in a snarl of magical light, Ron spat a glob of blood onto the floor, his chest heaving with exertion and triumph.

He tiredly bent and picked up his wand.

There was a calming chime, like a muted gong. A disembodied female voice, much like the lifts in the Ministry Lobby announced, “The third Combat Readiness Exam is now over. Prepare for evacuation.”

He only had time to blink before he felt the twist and pull of the vest taking him back to the Auror Department.

He expected to see a room full of recruits and Aurors. He expected to see Harry and Kevin and Claudia waiting. He expected the mirrors watching him and quills recording his every move. He expected someone there to help with his plentiful, but thankfully minor, injuries.

Instead, Ron was met with a dingy dark grey room with a lone bed against the wall, a side table and a toilet in the corner. He tried the door, but it was locked.

He performed a series of spells but Anti-Apparition spells were in place and nothing he knew would work.

“Hello?” he hoarsely called through the door, hitting the door with the fat of his fist. “Anyone there?”

No one answered him, but a pitcher of water and a cup appeared on the small table.

Suddenly, the disembodied voice was back: “Greetings Recruit, Interviews for the Fourth and Final Combat Readiness Exam have begun. When your interview time is near you will be released into the antechamber.

“Fucking ‘course they think locking us in solitary is a good idea,” Ron muttered.

He glanced at his watch but it was dented and the time was stuck at one sixteen in the morning.

“Do you have any injuries, Recruit?” asked the voice.

“I don’t know.” he rasped. Only the sound of ‘no’ must have registered because no one responded to his answer. It took at least a minute before he felt in his body enough to know if he had any injuries. He had a series of splinters up and down his left arm

Ron went to the pitcher and poured a glass. It was then he realised his wand hand’s finger didn’t want to bend around the glass. He must’ve either jammed it or broken it; he’d never quite been sure how to tell one from the other. He could do spells with his left hand, but didn’t quite trust the non-dominant hand to do something like heal bones.

Too tired and angry to worry about the interview, he drank his fill, took a piss, then sat back on the bed, picking splinters out of his arm. He was filthy and in dire need of a shower. His clothes began to cool and stiffen with sweat, and soon he was shivering.

The grime of battle still clung to him, and he felt a desperate need for a cleansing shower.

Restlessly, he attempted to find solace in a thin blanket. It offered little comfort or warmth. Micronaps, brief and fragmented, beckoned like distant islands of respite in a sea of exhaustion. Each time he slipped into the realm of sleep, he awoke with a start, the remnants of his nightmares with the Boggart dust haunting him.

He couldn't discern how much time had passed when the door to his cell finally swung open, its hinges creaking. With wary caution, Ron edged closer to the doorway.

The room he entered was a stark contrast to the cold, featureless cell. Warm wooden panels adorned the walls, radiating a sense of comfort that felt foreign after the ordeal he'd endured. His gaze fell upon Neville and Ramona

"Hey!" Neville greeted him, offering a weary but genuine smile.

Ron nodded in acknowledgment. "Were you stuck in a grey cell too?

"They let me out a moment ago," Neville confirmed, his voice tinged with relief.

“What time is it?”

“Search me,” Neville said, holding up his own damaged watch. “Got smashed and I’m rotten at repairing anything with mechanics.”

Ramona held up Vyse’s lucky coin and a bit of string. “It’s not a watch anymore.”

“Who made it to the end?” asked Ron.

“We’re all that’s left,” replied Neville.

“They okay?”

Neville gave a helpless shrug. “I have to assume so. Vyse got hit with a spell, then zipped away. I don’t know what happened to Theold.”

“The Squid got loose and pinned him, then he disappeared,” said Ramona.

Ron walked around the room checking each door. He was concerned for everyone, but most of all Harry. There was no sign of life beyond long-abandoned beds and drinking glasses with sips of water left.

“I’m sure Harry’s okay,” said Neville.

Ron shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust the Aurors with the care and feeding of a rock…”

Ramona gave a small snort.

“Are either of you any good with episkey? I think I broke my knuckle on Musaad’s chin,” he said, holding up a purpling knuckle. His finger could only marginally wiggle, but couldn’t hold anything or go into a fist.

“That’s not the same hand as earlier, right?” asked Neville, holding up his wand.

Ron made a hardy attempt to temper his glare. “No.”

Neville said the spell, and Ron’s knuckle gave a gross ‘pop.’

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Ron hissed in pain, but soon it was only a dull ache. “How about you? Any broken bits you need healed?”

Neville shook his head. “Surprisingly unscathed! Bruised as all out, but I have some okay bruise paste at home.”

Ron gave a grunt of approval, then looked to Ramona. She was wane and pale, but had a foreboding glare clearly telling him ‘fuck off and die terribly, if you please.’

“How about you?” Ron asked, despite himself.

Her glare softened the smallest amount. “The same ankle I hurt in the second exam is sore.”

“Need me to wrap it?”

She bit her lip, then nodded in assent.

He worked quickly and quietly. The ankle was swollen, but not nearly the purple mess it had been a few days prior.

“Thank you,” she quietly said as he was midway wrapping her ankle.

He nearly dropped her foot in surprise.

“Er… You’re welcome.”

Thankfully he had set her foot on the ground when she continued surprising him.

“You…” she began. “You helped me today. And the last exam.”

Unsure of what to say he opted to say nothing.

“That’s pretty par for the course for Ron and his friends,” said Neville, words more weighty than he let on.

A door opened and out came Sealy-Pearce, posture as straight as ever.

“Weasley. It’s time for your interview,” she said, face devoid of any emotion.

Neville gave his shoulder a squeeze and Ron promptly stood.

“Good luck,” said Ramona. She was unsmiling, but he could tell she meant it.

The corridor they went down was narrow, and his shoulder nearly caught on a torch as they passed by.

“Is Harry okay?” he asked her.

“He’s uninjured.”

That wasn’t the same as being okay, he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue.

Sealy-Pearce said nothing as she led the way, which was fine by Ron. He never was good at small talk with authority figures— not that they typically took much time with him anyways. Perhaps he hadn’t had the chance to practise.

Either way, he knew the simmering rage he felt towards the whole department wouldn’t be able to kept in check for long. It was best he held his tongue, grit his teeth and pushed down every swear and insult scrambling to break free.

They finally entered a small room that looked more like a place of interrogation than an ‘interview.’ It probably was an interrogation room. Behind a long wooden table sat Musaad, Robards, the Auror he had taken out on the roof, and another female Auror he didn’t recognize. They left an empty seat on the end Sealy-Pearce promptly filled.

“Take a seat, Weasley,” said Robards, waving a hand to reveal a wooden chair behind a small table with a pitcher and glass of water.

He sat, and immediately realised the chair was terribly uncomfortable. The back was too low, and the seat managed to slide back in an angle that made his tailbone hurt.

Ron stood, waved his wand and made it more his size and sat back down. If he was going to be fucked with, he’d at least do it without a sore arse.

“Water?” asked Robards.

“No thanks,” said Ron, trying to figure out where to lay his hands. On the table? In his lap?

“That was quite a show you put on in the exam,” said Robards, a wry smile on his face. “Quite a show… Musaad and Sealy-Pearce had said you were good, but I was impressed. We hadn’t heard much of you before this. Usually there are rumblings if someone has potential, but I didn’t hear anything about you from Hogwarts. Why is that?”

Ron clenched his fist and tried to convince his face not to flush. His face gave him the middle finger and slowly began turning him red, one centimetre at a time.

“I don’t know much about how ‘rumblings’ work,” Ron said, a small shrug.

He found himself rather impressed with his answer. He’d sounded sort of cool and nonchalant, in a way he rarely felt. The feeling of calm abated when he saw the unimpressed look on Robards face.

“Would you care to expand on that?”

Fuck.

“I dunno…” he said with a small cough.

He didn’t know what to tell them. All he could think of is things he probably shouldn’t say. Ron knew he probably shouldn’t say it was because he’d never been noticed a day in his life. He probably shouldn’t say he was useless compared to everyone else. He probably shouldn’t say they were putting him on the fucking spot and could eat a bag of dicks.

“Have some water, Weasley,” said Robards.

He promptly took a drink, and used it to buy more time. The water had a slightly acrid taste to it that made him wish for better water to wash it down with.

He had done things at Hogwarts… He’d never done them all that well, but he’d done things! He’d helped Hermione and Harry get across the chess board. He’d gone to the Ministry. He’d fought Death Eaters… He’d tried. And he’d obviously done alright in these trials.

“Maybe ‘rumblings’ aren’t much compared to people actually doing things?” Ron asked, scrambling to put his thoughts together and finishing off his glass of water.

“I mean, Neville’s obviously good enough to be an Auror, but I don’t think there were ‘rumblings’ before last year with him. But he was bloody brilliant at the Ministry in fifth year, and in sixth year he was there fighting off Death Eaters too.”

A few of the Aurors nodded, but Musaad bent forward. “This isn’t about Longbottom. This is about you.”

“I know that,” said Ron, irritation growing. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to tell you why I was underestimated by people. That’s on you, isn’t it?”

He nearly slapped a hand over his mouth. He had to say the wrong thing.

Musaad leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Your performance today suggests you have the skills," Robards conceded. "But being an Auror is about more than skills. It's about dedication, teamwork, and a commitment to upholding the law. Do you feel you’d be capable of that?”

“Yes… I mean, I hope so,” said Ron with a shrug. “I’m… I try to be there for people. And if a law is a good one, then yeah, I’d commit to upholding it.”

“Sometimes you’ll be asked to uphold laws you don’t agree with,” said Sealy-Pearce, her face unreadable.

“Like the ones Voldemort put in place last year?” Immediately scowls turned his way. Ron averted his eyes. “If the Ministry has just laws, I’ll do my best. If it falls to hell again… That’s a different story.”

“What would you do?” she asked.

“Probably the same as last year,” he said, squinting at her and leaning back.

“Would you like to tell us more about your actions in the last year?” asked Robards.

Ron knew he’d have to tread carefully. The last year had more secrets than he thought himself capable of holding.

“Erm… What part do you want to know about?”

“We know you didn’t go to Hogwarts last year. Had a clever ruse with the ghoul taking your place,” said Robards, a genial smile on his face. “Was that your work or Arthur’s?”

“My idea, but my dad helped a bit with the spells.”

A few of the Aurors nodded in approval.

“So before you were captured at Malfoy Manor, what were you doing? I��m assuming you were part of the Ministry break in?”

“I was.”

“Why did you break in?”

“We needed to retrieve an object.”

Ron’s fingers tightened into the slight folds on the side of his trousers.

He wondered how much they knew of what he’d been up to with Harry and Hermione. Was this line of questioning about Ron and further proving his abilities by describing his record?

“What was this object?” asked Robards, genial mood slowly slipping into something more pointed and eager.

Were they fishing for more information about Horcruxes? If they were, they were a fat lot of idiots because he would never tell them anything. He’d rather bleed out on the floor and let them have an inkling of anything they wanted.

“A h—” Ron stopped himself. What the fuck? He hadn’t meant to say a thing and he’d nearly said Horcrux. He must have been more tired than he thought. “An object to help stop Voldemort.”

“Was this a Horcrux?” pressed Robards.

“I didn’t ask it,” said Ron.

Robards expression turned glacial.

“You were pretty gabby in the transcripts of your exams, Weasley. Is there a particular reason you’re reticent now?”

“I’m answering your questions,” said Ron, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

Robards leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "Tell me, Weasley, have you ever had any struggles with your mental health? Stress, anxiety, anything of that sort?"

He knew Robards was trying to throw him with a sudden change in tack. Unfortunately, it was working.

Ron's heart stumbled and he hesitated for a moment, his voice less steady.

“Y-yeah. Sometimes. The last few years I’ve been fighting Death Eaters, I’ve lost people, and my family and friends were in danger… I think I’d be barmy not to have stress and anxiety during that.”

“But what about after? Today you had an extreme reaction to the Boggart dust,” noted Musaad.

“Everyone did,” said Ron, crossing his arms.

“Well, at least you didn’t dangerously blast one of your fellow recruits,” Musaad conceded.

“That wasn’t his fault!” Ron protested, struggling to keep himself in check. “He’s been through more than anyone.”

“Apparently…” Musaad with a small snort.

“Watch it,” Ron warned.

“You seem angry.”

“Of course I am. You’re a bunch of sadists who tortured my friend!”

“We didn’t put Boggart dust in the field,” assured the rooftop Auror. “The breeding den had been underground for years, it seems, growing without our knowledge.”

“Oh like that’s better! You put a bunch of people in danger—”

“None of you were in danger from that Boggart den you stumbled across. The only danger was from your friend,” Musaad added.

“Stop saying that!”

“You could barely restrain him when he was going mad. Are you really saying you don’t think Potter is dangerous under those circumstances?”

“He was but—” Ron cut himself off. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Have you ever seen Potter behave dangerously before?”

He had to fight to keep himself from saying yes. Why was it so difficult?

“Under the right circumstances anyone can be dangerous!” Ron growled.

“The problem is, you can’t always be there to restrain him.”

“I know that, but—” Ron grit his teeth to cut himself off again. He felt almost compelled to speak.

“And while your loyalty is admirable, as an Auror you’d have to put the needs of your team and your government above your friend. Can you do that?”

Ron was about to snap back ‘probably not,’ when the realisation hit. He let out a bark of laughter and looked to the ceiling.

“Something funny?” Robards asked.

“You lot…” Ron said with another humourless laugh. “You’ve put something in my water and are trying to get a rise out of me. What is it, some sort of Veritaserum?”

“You’re not on—”

“I am,” Ron said surely. He could tell when he had been fucked with. It had happened enough times; the brains when he was sixteen, the love potion when he was seventeen, and then the locket… Add in Boggart dust and he’d had enough of it for a lifetime. His mind wasn’t entirely his to control.

The table mutely stared at him, but Musaad finally answered, “it’s a variant on Veritaserum. Makes you more suggestible to tell the truth, but leaves the speaker able to express themselves with full emotions, and able to hold back the truth if they are very inclined to do so. It’s less detectable than normal truth serum and less unethical as—”

“Less unethical?” Rons snorted. “You lot are nothing but unethical from where I’m sitting.”

“Oh?” Robards asked.

Ron could feel it— the need to tell the truth— the need to tell them off with everything he had. They said he could hold it back if he was very inclined to do so.

Too bad he had no inclination at all to hold back.

“This whole things has been needlessly fucked up. You didn’t properly check the place for dangers like the Boggart dust—”

“No one was in danger—” began Robards.

Ron had so many emotions going through his mind, it was hard to pick just one. He decided on livid.

“Mental stuff is dangerous, okay!?” growled Ron. “People’s heads being fucked with is dangerous! And you lot have done it every single exam.”

“As Musaad said, you can hold back what you want to say if you’re so inclined,” said Robards, jaw clenched.

“I’m not, but thanks for that reminder,” Ron said with a shake of his head. “Do you have more questions for me, or can I go?”

Robards gave a supremely displeased look.

“Do you even want to be an Auror?”

“After seeing how you treat recruits? Not really,” Ron curtly replied.

“In that case, do you have any final questions for us?”

Ron thought and stared at the floor before letting his eyes meet theirs.

“I’ve known three great Aurors in my lifetime, and they were all in the Order. Where were you lot? Why didn’t Dumbledore trust you? Were you even helping fight in the war?”

They stonily stared at him, except Musaad who looked away.

“There were many ways to help in this war,” Robards quietly said. He had a glower that should have made Ron nervous, but he didn’t care anymore.

“Right, well, I’ll take my Order of Merlin and shove it, shall I?” he said, rising from his chair. “How’s that for ‘rumblings?’”

“You haven’t been dismissed,” barked Robards.

“You saw what I can do. Either you think I’ll be good at this, or you don’t. I don’t reckon anything I say will change your mind for the better when I’m on truth serum-light. I’ve had enough of this. I’m off.”

Ron went to the door and realised he had no idea how to leave.

“I’ll escort you,” said Musaad, a wry grin on his bearded face.

Ron begrudgingly followed the man out the door, and pointedly ignored the barbed looks the rest of the table were giving him.

He’d utterly ruined his chances of being an Auror, but he felt strangely lighthearted about it. Theold had said he would get money for the Order of Merlin— that could cover his expenses along with his pub job until he could get employment he enjoyed and was proud of.

They were a few metres into the hall when Musaad let out a laugh. Ron stopped walking and stared at him.

He’d let his temper ruin his chances to be an Auror and now Musaad was mocking him. It felt like a most fitting end to a most imperfect day.

“And Robards thought you gave quite a show in the exams,” Musaad laughed. “I must say, Weasley, you’re one of the most interesting recruits I’ve ever met.”

“I’m on truth serum or whatever so you might want to shut up,” said Ron, fists beginning to clench.

“I am not trying to provoke you anymore,” said Musaad, putting his hands up.

“Okay…” Ron crossed his arms and looked down at Musaad. He’d seemed an intimidating figure, but Ron realised just how much smaller Musaad was than himself. “How was Harry, really?”

“I can’t reveal anything from his fourth exam, that’s confidential,” said Musaad, but he continued before Ron could protest. “Right before the exam it was reported to me that he was quite distraught. They sent someone in to check him over for any remaining spores of Boggart dust. He was able to gather himself after knowing Kevin Gunther was fine.”

It wasn’t fully relieving news, but it was better than not knowing anything.

“Thank you…” said Ron. He gave a forceful exhale through pursed lips. “Have I… Did I ruin my chances back there?”

“Oh you want to talk to me now?” asked Musaad.

“Might as well.” Ron shrugged and waited.

Musaad continued down the hall a few paces before he spoke. “Your performance in the first three exams was excellent. The only red flags we had for you were a wild case of insecurity, and you have a tinge of disrespect for authority. Nothing too major, especially given the circumstances… You were probably a shoe-in after exam three.”

“And now?”

“Well, Robards is a proud man… Deserves to be. He did quite a lot to help our side win this war, but from the inside. He has an impeccable record. And you chose to question it in front of his peers and throw your Order of Merlin in his face…”

“So I’m fucked,” Ron said, rubbing his left arm.

“Well, it’s hard to say how he’ll react. We are very hard up on recruits, and it doesn’t hurt that your best friend is one of the most politically powerful people in the Wizarding World. Potter was a bit of an upstart too.”

“He saved everyone’s arses. He deserves to be.”

Musaad nodded, holding Ron’s gaze. “One could argue you deserve to be too. We’re alive and able to interview you both because of the steps you took to end this war. That won’t be forgotten. And I won’t let your very fair reaction to our tests affect your chances if I can.”

“Do you have anything to do with this decision?” Ron asked, a tiny bit of hope scrambling its ways to the front of his mind.

“Yes. I do,” said Musaad before giving a laugh. “And despite how much you very obviously disdain me, I find I like you.”

Ron narrowed his eyes.

“I like what I saw in the field,” Musaad continued, not the least bit intimidated by Ron’s glare. “You’re the kind of person I would want beside me in a battle, and nothing you said in the interview convinced me otherwise. But, at the end of the day, I’m just one vote.”

He stopped walking, and looked Ron in the eyes.

“If this somehow doesn’t work out, feel free to contact me. I want to make sure you have a position somewhere for your skills. I could, perhaps, write a letter or talk to someone. That’s the least you deserve.”

Musaad put out a hand for him to shake, and despite everything, Ron found himself shaking it.

“You’ve got a good nose for tactics. It’s a pretty rare thing in someone so young. It’s been a privilege,” said Musaad, firmly shaking his hand before letting it go and leaving Ron in the locker room.

He changed, but the whole time he had unsure footing similar to when he’d just played a Quidditch game and finally landed on the ground. Everything felt slow and unsteady as he took each step and changed his clothes. The world around him felt like it was vibrating. The tensile pulse still rang in his ears, but he had no idea of where to move and nowhere to walk.

He felt the inexorable urge to run and run until he was far from this underground torture chamber.

He didn’t know if he even wanted to be an Auror anymore… But he didn’t want them telling him he couldn’t be one…

He wished he could say goodbye to the Recruits. He wished he knew how they all did on the exam. He wished to go home and check on Harry, to throw himself into Hermione’s waiting arms, and to maybe have some of his Mum’s cooking. He wished… He wished a lot of things, actually…

But most of all, he wished to sleep in his own bed and wake up not regretting a thing.

“Fat chance of that,” Ron mumbled to himself as he stumbled towards the lifts.

--------------------------------

author's note:

Thank you to everyone who reviews- you all really help motivate me and make me feel tied to other people. Sometimes it's hard to feel a sense of community in my life, but you really give that to me and it means so much!

Next chapter Hermione's POV again.

#waking up #my writing #ron weasley #romione #harry potter fanfiction #auror #fan fic

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