Ron Part 2
Ron Weasley was no stranger to well, strange. But Mad Eye Moody crying, wailing, and puking was one of the odder sights he had ever seen.
“I don’t know what to think anymore, Kings,” he muttered to the man who had one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other holding both of their wands. “Constant vigilance, yes, but…how can a man be vigilant against his own damn head, Kings? Answer me that! I’ve kept me wits about me me whole damn life. But when yeh can’t trust yer own wits?! Oh, where does it keep comin’ from? Can’t recollect when I last ate.”
“It’s going to be alright, Alastor,” Kingsley Shacklebolt soothed in his deep voice. “We’ll get it all sorted out. Just breathe.” He put a cold cloth on the back of the man’s neck and sent Ron a wry look. He conjured a glass of water and something that looked like candy of some sort in a small jar and placed it beside Moody.
“Just sit and breathe,” he repeated and set a cool breeze blowing from nowhere in particular that Ron could see. “I’m going to have a chat with the lads. Hang in there.”
Alastor Moody’s response was to choke and nod.
“Aurors, there’s a gentleman to see the Headmaster. What should I tell him?” The voice of Argus Filtch called out. Ron jumped.
“Tell him to get outta this bloody castle!” Moody yelled. “Nowhere is bloody safe!”
“Just…hold on to that idea for a moment, Mr. Filch.” Kingsley called. “I…boys, I’d like you to follow along with me, please. Alastor is in no fit state to watch over you. Just stay at the top of the revolving staircase, yes? And keep an eye out. Wands out, if you please.”
“Yes, sir,” Ron and Draco chorused. Ron, for his part, was thankful for something to do. Right about the time Moody had started wailing and puking, he’d felt something change in himself, like the relief one got after a good secret cry or just making it to class on time or hell, knowing your insane Harry adventure was over and you could take a bloody nap. Draco looked wildly confused but followed behind Ron without a word.
The sight at the bottom of Dumbledore’s pretty but weird little staircase sent pure rage to his fingertips. He was yelling and hexing before he knew it.
Gilderoy Fucking Lockhart was frowning at him from beside a shouting Argus Filch, calmly deflecting his hexes and sighing deeply. “I understand, Mr. Weasley, I truly do, but we haven’t time for this at the moment.”
It was his utter calm competence with Defensive magic that gave Ron pause. What were they teaching people at St. Mungos?
“Weasley, what are we doing?” Draco hissed, keeping a damn good protego between him and Lockhart. He realized that Malfoy had been shielding him the entire time and felt a little lump come to his throat. It truly had been the weirdest of years. “I don’t remember the Lockhart bit. Are we up to Unforgivables or just basic defensive spells or what?”
“I’ve no doubt Mr. Weasley has enough justifiable anger at Lockhart that he could summon a good crucio or two, but as I’ve had enough experience with that particular curse to last a lifetime, I wonder if I might beg for a bit of variety. I hear the Imperius is painless. Almost Euphoric.”
“Yeah, alright, Snape. You’re Lockhart for the moment. Why not?” Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Uncle Severus?” Draco gasped.
“What is happening?” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, from his place being plastered against the wall by Argus Filch.
“I’m grateful not to have to explain myself, Weasley. You are well? Draco?” Severus Snape asked through Gilderoy Lockhart’s mouth, as he came up and gripped both boys by a shoulder.
“I’ve had better days, but I’m not…wounded.” Draco mumbled, looking up at the foppishly handsome man with utter disbelief.
Gilderoy Lockhart-Snape raised a sternly questioning eyebrow at Ron, and any lingering doubt faded. Lockhart could never have managed such a look, nor cared to ask the question. That, and the memory of how damn good the man in the Gilderoy Lockhart skin was at defensive magic, settled the thing in Ron’s mind once and for all.
“I’m okay,” Ron said, hanging his head slightly, his body sagging a little into Snape’s comforting touch. Because why not?
“If you can bear up a little longer, I’ve need of your thoughts, Weasley. Where would Dumbledore have taken Harry? They have not left the castle, not even via a secret passage, and no other form of magical travel has been recorded by the wards. Lupin is unable to track Harry via smell and Fleur’s mate sense is being meddled with because of issues with the wards. Where do you think the Headmaster would go?”
Ron thought long and hard. “He’s been talking about Light and Dark, right? And a weapon to destroy all of dark magic?”
“Yes,” Gilderoy Lockhart said, absently tucking Draco Malfoy into his side and giving Ron’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.
Nope. Thought Ron. I’m not even fucking gonna ask.
“I guess it wouldn’t necessarily have to be a big...but I guess I just think in terms of chess. The Queen is always your biggest asset, right? Can move so many different ways, but losing her makes you vulnerable, so you protect her as long as you can. Keep her out of sight, as it were, until she’s needed. She’s best if she has a hiding place where she can retreat and then slide out quickly for an attack and then hide again. But this isn’t chess. I’m being stupid. Dumbledore hasn’t been using this weapon, anyway. There’s nowhere in the castle...didn’t the objects say that the weapon was alive?”
Snape nodded. “Not in so many words, but yes. They indicated that it was capable of making moral decisions.”
“Well, where the fuck else has a living weapon been hidden in this school?” Ron asked, shivers prickling at his skin. “Where did Dumbledore keep putting the fucking diary? Where are there pipes and tunnels that can get you anywhere in the school?”
“Bloody hell, Mr. Weasley, you are wasted in Gryfindore.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Draco mumbled. “Not that I know what anyone’s talking of.”
“I don’t quite know how to take that,” Ron muttered, but felt a small flush of pride.
“There’s a small matter of getting it to open…” Snape mused.
“I think…” Ron drew in his breath and thought hard. “I think I remember the…the password, so to speak.”
Snape stared at him for a long moment and then nodded firmly. “Very well. You and I will head for Myrtle's Bathroom. Draco, all the students are in their common rooms. Do think you can…T- er, Filch, can you walk Draco to…”
“I don’t need walking from Filch,” Draco said. Everyone glared at him, except Kingsley, who was disarmed and staring over his shoulder at Filch and looking more and more confused. “I don’t bloody care about his blood status.” Draco fumed. “He’s downright unpleasant. And he hates me with a passion. I’d rather go alone.”
“Draco, I’m hurt. I love you with all my heart.” Argus Filch said, sounding a little choked up.
Draco stared at him for a long moment and then stared at Ron and Snape with wide eyes. “Um, no. I’m off.”
“I still have the cloak,” Ron blurted out, pulling it from his pocket. “Take it. Keep yourself safe. And if you hurt it and or don’t give it back to Harry in a day or two, I’ll kill you myself.”
Draco stared at him before wrapping the cloak around his shoulders. “The hat should have least paused.” Draco muttered, fidgeting with the cloak until it fell comfortably. “Look after yourself, Weasley, Uncle Sev. And you…” he looked at Filch and shuddered. “I hope I never see you again.”
“You’re too cruel.” Filch sighed.
Draco yelped and darted from the room. Gilderoy Lockhart, who was looking a little taller, slimmer, and paler looked like he was trying desperately not to smile at Filch.
“You really should tell him.”
Filch grinned. “Someday. Now, run along you too. Cheers, Ron. Damn good hexing, by the by.”
“I…thanks?” Ron said to Argus Filch whose attention was turned to Kingsley Shacklebolt who looked as baffled as he felt. “Also, be nice to him, yeah? I think he might have been a little confused, but he was very nice to me and Draco and Moody. I think he’s mostly himself.”
“I was, I think, compelled to contain you two boys,” Kingsley said, his tone flat with confusion. “But I don’t know why. I figured it would make more sense to be along and look after you than try to fight it.”
“Aww, that’s why we love you, Kings.” Argus Filch cuddled up to the man’s back and Ron decided he’d had enough of this particular brand of insanity.
“Professor, if we’re not gonna save Kingsley, can we go, please?”
A warm laugh of pure hilarity rolled from an increasingly Snapeish-looking Gilderoy Lockhart. “Kingsley, I think, will be just fine, Ronald. Come along, please.”
And that’s how the Heir of the Burrow (Not Even, what was he, fifth in line?) opened the Chamber of Secrets.