Chapter 22
Ron glanced around the chambers, unsure for a second if he had even left the Gryffindor common room until he starts to spot the differences. For one, the secret chambers are home to all sorts of weaponry, all situated in odd places around the room. A dedicated wall is overfilled with books dedicated to strategy and warfare, alongside a collection of portraits and mementos from past adventures. A roaring fireplace casts flickering shadows across the room and a sturdy wooden bed with crimson covers takes centre stage. Ron carefully walks further in and is startled when a familiar voice booms across the room.
Now occupying his portrait, Godric Gryffindor—a towering figure in mediaeval armour with a lion-emblazoned shield at his side—loudly exclaims, “We meet again, young Ron! Young Elliot tells me you wish to complete Emrys’ trial.”
Ron, standing nervously in the dimly lit corridor of Hogwarts, straightens up at the attention. “Yes, sir,” he replies, his voice steady despite the anticipation swirling in his chest.
Godric's eyes twinkle with a mix of pride and mischief as he strokes his bushy, red beard. “Very good. Now, I’m supposed to tell you something about the quest to help you a little bit,” he begins, his voice booming through the ancient halls. He pauses, his expression turning slightly sheepish. “Except, I wasn’t quite listening when Salazar told me about his quest and I can’t ask him now. He’s the youngest of us, you see. Quite the rascal, that one, he’d tease me for all of eternity if he knew, you understand, of course.”
Ron’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he can't help the small smile tugging at his lips. Godric leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But no matter! I’m sure you’ll be just fine! You have the heart of a lion, young Ron, and that’s what truly counts.”
From the bookshelf, out flies a blook that floats before him.
“Good luck, young Ron.” Gryffindor’s eyes glint knowingly, a sombre feel to it.
Ron placed is hand upon the book and closed his eyes against the tugging in the core of his body.
~~~~~~~
Ron is drowning.
Ron is drowning.
The cold, icy water all around stings his naked skin, biting into him with a relentless chill. Despite himself, he screams, and water fills his lungs, a bitter, searing agony that sends him into a frantic, desperate panic. He claws at the water, his limbs heavy and unresponsive as he tries to escape the watery grip. But he doesn't know which way is up, and there is no escape. He thrashes his feet, but they are bound together, rendering him helpless in the engulfing dark. His eyes sting, his heart burns with a fierce, unyielding pain. It’s too much. His vision blurs, his mind filled with a cacophony of fear and hopelessness. It’s too much. Just as he feels the last threads of consciousness slipping away, the fight leaving his body, he gives in to the darkness. It’s too much. It’s too much. It’s too much.
He takes a breath...
He takes a breath and is hyper aware as the water yields. The icy grip loosens, and the bitter agony dissipates. The water, once a suffocating force, flows gently in and out of his lungs. His heart slows its frantic pace, the fierce burning easing into a strange, soothing calm. Ron blinks, his vision clearing to reveal the underwater world around him. The dark, terrifying abyss now appears serene, almost welcoming. The panic ebbs away, replaced by a surreal sense of peace as he realises that he is breathing—breathing underwater. His mind, once a storm of fear, quiets, embracing the impossible reality.
***
Ron looks down at his naked skin, feeling as if he is having an out-of-body experience. His legs are, in a way, bound together, he thinks absently as he stares at his bright orange tail. Bright orange mermaid tail. The realisation dawns on him slowly, a surreal clarity piercing through the remnants of his panic. Where his legs once were, now shimmers a sleek, powerful tail, each scale catching the dim light and reflecting a vibrant orange hue.
Ron's hands—with taut skin between his fingers and scales on his knuckles—move tentatively to touch the tail, the texture both alien and familiar under his fingertips. The initial shock and fear begin to ebb away, replaced by a mixture of awe and disbelief. He flicks the tail experimentally, feeling the strength and fluidity in its movements.
The world around him is straight out of a fairy tale. Shimmering schools of fish dart past him in a kaleidoscope of colours, their scales glinting like precious gems in the dim light. Graceful strands of kelp sway rhythmically with the currents, their long tendrils reaching up towards the surface like enchanted vines. He can see the hazy outlines of coral reefs, their intricate structures teeming with vibrant marine life.
Behind him, in the distance, he can see the silhouette of an underwater city. The faint, ethereal glow emanating from it casts long shadows that dance across the seabed. Towers and spires rise majestically from the ocean floor, their architecture both alien and magnificent, adorned with intricate carvings that seem to pulse with a life of their own. In the middle of the enchanting city sits a grand castle, it’s towering turrets and sprawling walls are carved from coral and adorned with shimmering pearls and glowing anemones. The castle is both imposing and beautiful, its presence dominating the underwater landscape with a regal grace. The grand structure seems to be the heart of the city, a beacon of splendour.
Ron floats there, suspended in the underwater wonderland.
Using his new tail to swim feels not unlike what he imagined walking for the first time might be. His initial movements are awkward and clumsy, his tail flicking erratically as he struggles to find a rhythm. He tries to move forward, but each attempt feels uncoordinated, and he can't help but feel a bit ridiculous. Frustrated, he uses his hands to help propel himself, their movement making him feel even more awkward. He imagines he probably looks silly, flailing about in the water, but he pushes on.
Finally, he reaches the outskirts of the city. Just as he is about to approach the grand entrance of the city, a stern-looking guard swims up to him. The guard, clad in ornate armour made of shells and coral with a small light blue trident in one hand, holds up a hand to stop him.
"Identification, please," the guard demands, his voice resonating through the water.
Ron stammers, "I... I don't have any identification. I—"
The guard narrows his eyes, scrutinising Ron closely. "Are you feeling warm?" he asks abruptly.
Ron blinks, confused by the question. "No, I'm not feeling warm," he replies honestly, wondering what the guard is getting at.
The guard relaxes slightly, though his gaze remains wary. "Very well, but you'll need to speak with the gatekeeper inside. Follow me."
Ron nods, still bewildered but relieved that he hasn't been turned away outright. As he follows the guard toward the little hut on the other side of the entrance entrance.
The gatekeeper, an elderly merman with wise, kind eyes, seems to recognize him immediately. "What is your name, young one?" he asks, his voice gentle but firm.
"Ron," he replies, feeling a strange mixture of hope and anxiety.
The gatekeeper gives him a sympathetic look, nodding slowly. "Ah, yes, Ron. I remember you." He searches the cupboard next to him for a small stone tablet that he weaves an orange rope around to fashion as a necklace. He then leans in closer to the guard, whispering just loud enough for Ron to catch. "I know him. He’s just a guppy, alone since his seafather was declared lost at sea. Let him go." Before passing the necklace to Ron with a smile.
The guard nods, his expression softening as he looks back at Ron. "You may enter," he says, stepping aside.
Ron blinks down at the stone tablet with his name carved into it, nods at the guard and passes through without another word, securing the necklace around his neck as he goes.
He spends two days taking in the bustling life of the city, marvelling at its vibrant energy and the dazzling array of merfolk going about their daily routines. At night, he stays at an inn whose owners had pitied him enough to allow him to stay for free for a few weeks at the request of the gate keeper.
Despite the captivating surroundings, Ron feels a deep sense of isolation. No matter how much he tries, he cannot properly get the hang of swimming with his tail. Each movement feels awkward and uncoordinated, his attempts to mimic the graceful strokes of the other merfolk often ending in frustration. The mers around him regard him with curious, sometimes pitying glances. Their graceful movements make his own clumsiness more pronounced, and his efforts to interact with them often fall flat. He spends the two days alone, feeling the sting of isolation as the other mers avoid him like the plague.
On the third day, as Ron is struggling once again to navigate the busy morning marketplace, a messenger approaches him. "You are summoned to the castle, Mer. Ron," the messenger announces, his tone formal though his eyes betray his distaste.
The messenger leads him through winding corridors until they reach a room where a group of four merfolk have gathered—three males and one female. The messenger leaves them to wait, and Ron stands hesitantly among the group. The others ignore him at first, but two of the males openly sneer at him, their expressions filled with disdain. Ron tries to ignore their hostility, feeling their judgement weigh heavily on him as they waits in silence.
Finally, after a long wait, three more mers enter the room. A stern-looking male and female, each with a dark blue and silver trident held at an angle with both hands, slightly behind a merman with a golden trident attached at his back. At the entrance of the three, the others in the room hurriedly move to bow and Ron, although confused, hurries to follow. The mer in the centre calls for them to rise with a warm smile, waving off his companions so he stood before them alone.
“Before we begin,” he starts, “when I call your name, please swim forward.”
Halcyon is called first, a mer with a dark blue tail and one of the two who hadn’t sneered at Ron. Halcyon moves forward with an easy swish of his tail. Melanthius and Aegeon are called next, both shooting Ron cruel smirks as they move next to Halcyon. Melanthius has a large dark purple tail, and Aegeon has a smaller brown and red tail. Two names are then called out, both receiving no response. Eurybius is called, and the mermaid with a sage green tail swims forward gracefully.
Finally, Ron is called. The still-unknown mer greets him with a bright smile through furrowed eyebrows.
“I’m sure you all know who I am,” he starts, “still, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Thalassios, the crown prince of the eastern sea.”
Thalassios continues with a warm smile, “I want to thank each of you for signing up for the ‘Order of the Seablade’. Your courage and dedication are commendable.”
Ron blinks. He hadn’t been aware he had signed up for anything. In his confusion, he must have made a noise because the others glance at him before turning their attention back to the prince. For the first time, Ron is hyper-aware of the visible age difference between him and the other mers in the room. He is a child playing soldier, a mere guppy. He shakes the thought off and strengthens his resolve, remembering Hermione’s words from what seems like so long ago, remembering the life Harry had been forced to live. He will see this through.
“Tonight,” Thalassios says, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “we will embark on our first and final mission. This mission is of utmost importance, as I intend to put an end to the suffering of our waters and our folk. Ready your belongings, say your goodbyes and gather at the main gate by dusk. We will provide you with all the necessary details then.”
The prince is first to leave, his golden trident gleaming as he exits the room. The others slowly disperse too, their expressions a mix of determination and arrogance. Ron watches them go, taking a deep breath when he is left alone, unable to stop himself from comparing the water he breathes now to the air he is used to. He has no belongings and no one to say goodbye to, instead he swims to the main gate and settles for a long wait.
~~~~~~~
Eurybius is first to arrive, greeting him with a shallow nod and settling down beside him.
“How old are you, gup?” She asked.
“15, ma’am.”
“So young,” she whispers, her tone of voice reminding Ron strongly of Snape. “Your place is with your seaparents, gup, is there any way I can convince you that you needn’t fight?”
“I disagree, ma’am. I think I should be allowed to fight for things that I believe in.” He started, but from her face he could tell that his words were not convincing enough to sway her or himself. “My... my seaparents, they, er, are lost at sea. This is my place,” he said finally.
Her shoulders fell, her lips forming a grimace. “I see,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with sorrow. “It’s never easy, losing those we love. But you must understand, this mission is not for the faint of heart. It’s dangerous, and I worry for you.”
Ron straightens, feeling a surge of stubborn pride. “I understand, ma’am. But I’m here now, and I’ll see this through.”
Eurybius’ eyes soften with a mixture of pity and respect. “Very well, Ron. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
As they sit together in the gathering dusk, the silence between them is comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts. Before long, Halcyon arrives and settles beside them, his dark blue tail cutting through the water with grace. He nods in greeting to both Ron and Eurybius.
Ron listens carefully as Halcyon and Eurybius talk about the mission they would soon embark on. From their conversation, he gathers that they have faith in their crown prince to put an end to the curse of the Wraithsong that had taken so many from them. The sad look Eurybius shoots Ron makes him realise that ‘lost at sea’ meant something more final than he had initially thought.
"So, er..." Ron struggles to gather information without raising suspicion. "How exactly does the, er, Wraithsong work?"
They blink at him, exchanging a glance before Eurybius speaks. “It is the term the capital coined in reference to the curse that plagues us. The infected merfolk are mutated by their own inner wrath into sirens. The stronger their wrath, the stronger the cursed flame in their hearts and when the flame dies out, so do they.”
“No one knows where the curse came from,” Halcyon continues, “but I’ve heard rumours that the crown prince has been researching its origins and might have a plan to end it.”
Ron feels a shiver run down his spine. The idea of a curse transforming peaceful merfolk into wrathful sirens is terrifying. "Has anyone found a way to stop it or reverse the transformation?" he asks, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and hope.
Eurybius shakes her head sadly. “Not yet. The only thing we can do is try to contain the sirens and prevent the spread of the curse. That's why Prince Thalassios' mission is so important. If he has indeed found a way to stop the Wraithsong, it could save countless lives.”
Halcyon places a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder. "That's why we're here, Ron. To stand against this curse and protect our folk.”
During their talk, Ron is surprised to realise that Melanthius and Aegeon had already arrived and settled down some distance away from the three. With the crown prince and his two companions arriving just as Halcyon finished talking, each with their tridents on their back. In their hands, one held a few staffs with a pearl at the top that acted as a light source while the other held white tridents enough for the rest of the group.
Ron gathered with the rest in front of the crown prince, smiling in gratitude when he received his trident and pearl torch, the weapon heavier than he had expected.
Finally the crown prince cleared his throat to begin explaining their mission.