Chapter 3
“Charlie..”?
He looked down at the curious face of his only sister, raising an eyebrow in question. She was standing with her hands on her sides and her face contorted in a cute pout. Charlie was tempted to pinch her cheeks. He would if he didn’t fear getting bitten.
“Where’s Bill?”
The sun had set about an hour ago. Time seemed to pass quickly when flying around on brooms. He’d only come down because his siblings were hungry. The twins were already shuffling and banging around in the kitchen. Charlie had come to the shed to put away the brooms where Ginny had cornered him. Closing the door quickly, he knelt in front of her.
“He’s at work, Ginny. He’ll be back later tonight. And we can raid his room at night and force him to tell you all about what he did at the Egyptian King’s tomb. Okay?” There was a good chance he wouldn’t be back until ass o'clock near dawn and she'll be asleep by then.
“Yeah, but…” His sister squirmed and shuffled around, seemingly indecisive on whether to bring up the topic. Ginny had been Charlie’s favourite among the siblings just like Ron had been Bill’s. Not that he didn’t love everyone else just as fiercely. But Charlie had always been able to read Ginny like an open book. He waited patiently for her to voice her concerns, ”What about Ron?”
Being closest in age, Ron and Ginny were like two peas in a pod. Until last year apparently. When Charlie came back from Hogwarts on Christman the two could barely stay in the same room without trying to maul each other. Ginny had become more and more outgoing, taking a shine to whatever the twins cooked up. Pranking and roughhousing her brothers and generally being a menace to society.
Meanwhile, Ron had become more and more reserved, trying and failing to become a part of the trio’s tight-knit group and disappearing in the shadows. That doesn’t change the fact that all of them, including Charlie; who had admittingly spent the least amount of time with the youngest boy; were worried.
“I know you’re worried about Ron, Gin-gin. We all are. But I promise you, he is going to be alright.” While he was by no means a good older brother, that was Bill’s job, he could at least try to comfort her. “Our Ronniekins is tougher than you think. He will be back in no time…but you, young lady, need to eat. We need all the energy we can get to welcome him, okay?”
The youngest redhead nodded slowly. He stood up, grabbed her hand, and led her through the courtyard and inside the Burrow through the kitchen door. The twins had retreated to their bedrooms. He suppressed a sign. Those gremlins needed some time alone before they came around. Not that Carlie was planning to let them off the hook without some much-needed talk.
Honestly, while he did not believe that whatever they spiked Ron's pumpkin juice with, was the cause of his sudden illness, they needed to realize that there's a fine line between harmless fun and maliciousness, and it was high time someone laid it out for them. Mixing an experimental potion in someone’s drink, let alone their own brothers’ was definitely crossing the line. But, the first he needed to attend to Ginny.
The twins would be fine on their own for a little while longer. Percy had already retired to bed and Charlie wasn’t sure he’d like being interrupted from his beauty sleep. Being young, Ginny was not used to staying awake this late. She was already yawning and rubbing her eyes. She would crash after a quick dinner.
He pushed open the door to the twins’ room, his brow furrowing as he took in the chaos around the room. The walls were painted a pale blue, contrasting sharply with the bright red carpet in the middle. Grey curtains draped lazily over the window covered by hand-made Gryffindor swags. Two beds occupied opposite walls, leaving a hollow space in the center of the room where a variety of wizarding contraptions and potion ingredients lay strewn about. There was a large table in the room's center, upon which sat a bubbling cauldron. What a fucking mess.
One of the twins, Charlie couldn't tell from the back, was hunched over a small piece of parchment muttering under his breath. Charlie could see crumpled papers littering the floor. The other, probably George was on his back on one of the beds shuffling a deck of exploding snaps. They’d both been expecting him considering they were trying hard to pretend they hadn’t noticed his entrance.
"What in Merlin's name are you two up to now?" He asked, an amused smile threatening to ruin the image of a stern older brother. Seriously how did Bill ever manage to keep a straight face when dealing with these two?
The redhead bent over the desk, looked up from his parchment, and gave Charlie a closed-eyed smile. It was strained at the edge. There was an air of unease in the room though they both tried to act normal. "Oh, just some experimental potion brewing, Charlie," he said innocently, “Nothing you need your boar head to worry over.”
Charlie sighed and shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Merlin! I don't know how you do it, Bill." Being an older brother is so much work. He needed to be serious. The twins needed a good noogie for the trouble they caused Mum today.
He cleared his throat and fixed both Fred and George with a stern gaze. "Listen, you two, we need to talk.” Both of them tensed up but remained silent, eyes shifting uncomfortably. Fred accidentally sent a couple of Exploding Snap cards flying across the room with a flick of his wrist. They exploded in a shower of colorful sparks, momentarily adding to the chaos
“But First…” Charlie brought his finger up. “How are you feeling.” he couldn't help but grin at the way their shoulders sagged. While Charlie was all in for knocking some sense into their thick skulls, they also needed their older brother to reassure them. Considering what happened today, not that Charlie believed that their prank had anything to do with Ron’s sickness, they needed to find a balance between mischief and responsibility.
“Bloody hell, Charlie! I thought we were about to get our arses whooped.” George, the one bent over their shared table, he realized; whined. Fred remained silent, his eyes shifting uncomfortably. The younger of the twins slowly got up from the squeaky chair, crumpled up the parchment in his hand, threw it in the bin next to the desk, somehow managing to miss it by half a foot, and joined his crime partner on the bed.
“Why, we’re fine. Totally. We're the 'okayest' twins in the wizarding world, no doubt about it!" Where Charlie expected both of them to complete each other’s sentences, Fred remained suspiciously quiet.
“I know you must be worried-”
“Worried? Us? You must not know us, right Gred?” Charlie ignored the younger twin.
“But Ron will be fine.”
“Look, Charlie, It wasn’t our fault! It was a harmless Volbilis Potion. We tested it out to be sure.” Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. What the bloody hell does that mean? He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, looking at Fred. "Is that why Gred is so quiet?"
George laughed nervously while Fred’s lip turned down in a grimace. He fixed his gaze on Fred. In his peripheral, he noticed, George picking up another deck of cards and beginning to shuffle them. It was one of their nervous ticks.
Fred exchanged a guilty look with George who nodded slowly. They both seemed to have held an entire conversation with their eyes that he wasn’t privy to. "Well, you see, Charlie,..." George begins.
"Go on."
"We knew that the potion we mixed in Ron's pumpkin juice was safe, you know. But with what happened today, we wanted to be sure."
“So we figured the best way to do that was for one of us to try it out, again, with pumpkin juice," Fred spoke up for the first time since he entered the room and Charlie had to bite his lip to suppress a startled laugh at Fred’s high-pitched squeaky voice. Holy shite! He sounded like a bloody Diricawl.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up dearest brother.”
Clearing his throat, he fixed them in an unwavering stare. “ I know that whatever happened wasn’t your fault.” They both seemed to sag with relief at that. “Not that Mum would believe us”. He heard George mutter under his breath and grimaced at the bitterness underlining his words. Nonetheless, he continued, “ But still, you both need to go easy on him and poor Percy with the pranks”.
Immediately, they both started squared up cheeks puffing out with indignance.
“It was just a bit of harmless fun!"
“And Percy deserves it what with acting like his shite doesn't stink!”
“It’s not our fault he can’t take a joke-”
"-and he always gets us in trouble with Mum."
Charlie sighed, exasperated. It was just a teeny bit funny with Fred’s squeaky voice thrown in but he had to keep his composure. “Listen, guys, I'm not asking you to stop pranking altogether. I mean, watching Bill fuming about when you dyed his hair pink was pretty hilarious. But that doesn't give you the right to keep tormenting Percy. And as for Ron, he's your brother, not just a target for your pranks."
George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in a defiant posture. "Oh, come on, Charlie, we're just teasing Ron. A bit of a laugh, you know?"
Charlie leaned forward, his voice firm. They needed to hear this. “You're crossing the line between playful mischief and being downright malicious. Ron's confidence is shot, and Percy's practically turned into a hermit, only coming out for food or the loo." Fred and George exchanged another glance, their expressions finally showing a hint of uncertainty.
"Charlie, it's not because of us!"
Charlie let up a little, seeing the way they were getting worked up, his tone softened. "I know you don’t mean it, but you need to know how your actions affect the others. Remember the time you killed Ron's Puffskin and the poor boy cried for days. Or the time you cast an Oscausi on Percy and we had to go to St.Mungo."
"That one was an accident.-"
"-We didn't know it was a dark spell."
"Look! All I am saying is that you need to ease up a little, lads."
The silence stretched out for a few moments. The twins shared a look that Charlie couldn’t quite understand before George sighed, relenting a bit. "Alright, we'll tone it down a notch."
Fred added, "But just a notch, mind you. We can't completely give up our pranking ways."
“Alright. Alright. Now, off to bed with you two. It’s nearly midnight.” Charlie said. What a day.
“Yes, Mum.” “Goodnight Mum.” Gordic! What a long fucking day.
Molly sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, her gaze fixed on the white walls that separated her from the Healer's station. Her knuckles were white from clutching her husband Arthur's hand. The anxiety gnawed at her insides as she waited for the Healer to return with news about Ron. The room was cold, sterile, and full of the antiseptic scent that she knew would make a home in the seams of her dress.
“Molly Dear,....” Her husband begins. Molly looked over at him but he seemed to be lost in his head. It seemed he didn’t even realize he’d said something. She bit her lips in worry. It had been an exceedingly long day and it wasn’t about to end anytime soon.
The silence in the room seemed to stretch out the time until each second passed as slowly as minutes. It was suffocating. “I did a diagnostic scan on him, as soon as Bill said something was wrong.” She said, in an effort to break the haunting silence, her voice shrill, “The results were so chaotic I couldn’t begin to read them.”
Arthur just nodded but remained silent. He gently squeezed her hand to show he was listening. Molly didn’t bother to continue considering she’d already told Arthur everything at least twice. Her insides twisted with guilt at the thought that somehow it was her fault. That she’d been so busy with other things she’d failed to notice that her youngest son was ill. Ron never shared his troubles. Sure he complained here and there, but he never shared how he felt. He was more reserved and meek compared to his siblings and wasn’t one to cause mischief to get her attention.
He’d been slipping through the cracks recently, and Molly had only watched. Her mind was too occupied with keeping the house going despite their waning wealth. Her hands were busy preparing food and cleaning the house. Her focus had been to discipline the rowdy kids. It killed her to know that she might be the reason Ron had suffered. Her diagnosis showed he was in pain. There was so much magic in his tiny body that it could rival the core of a warlock.
They were on the fifth floor in an empty waiting lounge near the tea room. It was late. Ron had been admitted to an emergency ward on the ground floor where the Healers from almost every department were rushing about to diagnose him. They’d both been questioned multiple times until Molly’s nerves had been frayed enough for her to snap at the next staff that so much as looked at them.
Thankfully, Bill had arrived at the right time and taken over. She’d preferred to be present when Bill recounted the events in light of his advanced knowledge. But Arthur had pulled her up to the stairs saying that Bill would tell everything afterward. That had been hours ago and Bill had long since left them with a steaming cuppa and biscuits.
The door to the Healer’s office opened and a nurse poked her head out to beacon them inside the room. Both of them were up in second. Molly ignored the way her back protested at the sudden movement. It took a couple of steps for her to get her gait straight but they quickly made their way to the room. Unlike the white sterile walls of the halls, The room was covered in a cozy cream-colored wallpaper. The Healer, who looked only a bit older than Bill, sat at his desk to the right, with his head buried in a long parchment. The nurse led them away from the desk towards the leather sofas that stretched on the left with an ebony black center table that separated the two sides.
“Please take a seat.” The nurse was a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length auburn hair streaked with silver, tied back in a neat bun. Her warm, hazel eyes exuded kindness and empathy.
Molly shared a worried look with her husband who smiled at her reassuringly though his eyes were strained. She’d never felt so… of kilter before. The young man at the desk carefully sorted out the parchments in his hand and waved at the quill that was writing notes onto a scroll.
He swiped back his short black hair and stepped around the desk, expression carefully neutral. Molly's heart clenched as she looked at the man for any sign of hope or despair. "Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley," He greeted warmly putting his hand forward. Arthur stood up to clasp it in a firm shake.
“Mrs. Abbasi, can you retrieve Healer Elara Evergleam from the third floor?” He called out politely. The nurse nodded “Of Course.” and left the room.
“I am Consultant Aurelius Thorne from the Core Arcanum Restoration Bureau.” He gave a small smile. “I understand that you have questions?” Molly nodded.
“Please tell us everything. What is wrong with our son?” Arthur’s voice was tight with emotions.
“Is it something serious?! Life-threatening?!” Her voice pieced through the calm atmosphere of the office.
“There’s no need to worry Mrs. Weasley. We’ve managed to stabilize his magic. At least for now.” There was an excited undertone in his voice that put her on edge. “We’ve never encountered anything quite like this before. So, most of our diagnosis is based on speculations at best.” Arthur grabbed her hand tightly. Mr. Thorne suddenly stood and walked up to the cupboard filled with an assortment of biscuits and china cups. He waved his wand at the kettle on the end table and it sprang to life preparing tea.
“We have a lot to discuss, but first we must get settled in. Ease out the nerves.” He started to arrange the cutlery on the center table and started laying out sweets and snacks.
Molly clicked her tongue in annoyance. Arthur’s hand tightened around hers’ with agitation. They’d been waiting for hours to get any form of news. “Pardon my rudeness sir, but we aren't here to indulge in tea and biscuits. I'm rather more keen on obtaining information about my son if you don't mind."
The young man paused, a hint of red training his pale skin. He gave a sheepish smile at the Weasley matriarch and rubbed the back of his head. “I know you must be worried and in haste to hear more about your son’s condition. But…It’s a rather long explanation and Healer Evergleam is better suited to explain this to you. She’s an expert on Atypical Manifestation of Magic in Minors. As well as the main Healer in charge of your son’s case. She’ll be here any minute and we can get started.”
Molly felt a mix of embarrassment and worry wash over her. Her cheeks felt a bit warm at losing her temper but the consultant using words like Atypical Manifestation did little to calm her. Thorne put four sets of steaming hot teacups just as the door opened and a short woman with platinum blond long hair entered the room. She walked with a certain confidence that made her appear taller.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I am Healer Evergleam.” Her voice was strong and pleasantly low-pitched. “Likewise, Healer Evergleam.” Arthur and Molly shook her hand.
"Let’s get down to business.” She didn’t waste any time. "We've run a series of tests on Ron, all of them non-invasive, of course. The tests revealed that Ronald’s magical core seems to have endured what appears to be an onslaught of immense magical energy. Far beyond what it should naturally endure. Even considering the manifestation of Arcana.”
Molly didn’t know what to make of the woman’s words. She looked at Arthur in bewilderment only to see the same look reflecting in his brown eyes. Consultant Thorne seemed to sense their confusion.
“In layman’s terms, Arcanna basically refers to special abilities such as Metamophis, Precognition, Natural Legilimency, and Born Animagi; that manifest either at birth or later on during early childhood. These abilities accompany symptoms like fever, delirium, a sudden increase in one’s magic, and strain on the magical core. What makes your son’s case stand out is his age. There has been no record of an Arcana manifesting past the age of six.”
A pained expression crossed her face as she tried to process the news. "Is he going to be alright?" Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper. Molly herself was too overwhelmed to voice her concerns. Thorne cleared his throat and put the parchments on the table to spread them out. He waved his wand at the table once he got the papers in order and they spun around in the air forming a large square that displayed a complex magical diagram hovering in the air, an intricate web of interconnected lines and nodes representing the magical pathways within the human body.
“I understand that it might be a lot to take in. Rest assured that your son is in capable hands.” Evergleam smiled at them. “These are the results from our Diagnostics Department. The red dots around the center of his chest,” She gestured with her wand at the glowing white core in the center surrounded by the red hazy dots. “represent the strain on his magical core that has left it weakened and vulnerable. Right now, we're focused on repairing the damage and restoring the balance of his magic." She fell silent and gestured for Thorne to continue. Molly listened with rapt attention fearing she might miss something important.
“Usually, when the Arcana settles in during early childhood, it throws off the balance between the yin and yang. The spiritual magic and the physical magic if you must. Abrupt increase in Physical magic indicates abilities linked to the physical attributes, such as Metamorphis and Born Animagi; whereas an increase in spiritual energy, “ Here he gestured to the brain in the diagram which was completely silver. “Points to abilities linked to mind magic.”
“Precognition or Legilimency…” Her husband’s eyes were wide. The black-haired man nodded seriously. Their teas were long since forgotten.
“Is it…” She gulped. Her mouth was dry, she could hardly speak. “ Is Ron going to okay?” she pointed to the glowing silver that filled the diagram’s entire head. “His head…?”
“This unbalance in physical and spiritual energies is usually not a cause of concern for kids in their early years. The energies usually balance themselves by the age of ten naturally. In Ron’s case, whose magical core had already stabilized itself, the sudden increase in spiritual magic had weakened his core to the point that his body decided to shut down in order to keep him alive.” Evergleam hadn’t even finished before Arthur was on his feet, face red. Molly covered her mouth in horror. The Healer continued in a grim voice, ignoring their reaction. “What’s more concerning is the amount of Spiritual energy that his core had been subjected to.-”
“Are you saying our son is in a COMA!?” the Weasley matriarch exploded. Arthur was quick to take one of her arms in a tight grasp. “Let’s hear what they have to say first, Molly.” He nodded toward the short woman but made no move to sit down. Though her face was indifferent, Molly could see a glimmer of softness in her eyes. She took a deep breath before continuing.
“There is no way to measure the exact amount of magic your son possesses now… but if we were to roughly guess it would be thrice the amount an average adult wizard has.”
“Where is he now,” Arthur demanded. Molly nodded her head and stood up. Throne, reading the atmosphere, gathered his notes in a bundle and floated them to his desk. Healer Evergleam also stood up elegantly. “I-We need to see our son.”
The black-haired man quickly finished getting his office in order and led them out the door. Everglaem continued explaining Ronald’s situation as they made their way to the lift. “Right now we have him situated in a stasis chamber in the basement. As unbalanced as his magic is, it will be very difficult to make a treatment plan that factors in all the changes his core has been going through. I would suggest waiting a couple of days for his body to naturally adapt to the influx of spiritual energy before considering any Healing Rituals or potion treatments.”
Thorne turned around and smiled slightly at Arthur. Molly distantly noticed he was almost as tall as Arthur while Evergleam was just a couple of inches taller than herself. They got off the lift on a dark and dimly lit basement floor. There was a red hugh that tinted the hallway giving a creepy look that had Molly suppress a shiver. What a horrible atmosphere to treat the sickly in.
“If his magic remains stable tonight we’ll transfer him to the normal ward on the third floor.” Thorne seemed to sense her unease and turned to smile at her. “You won’t be able to enter the chamber but there’s a waiting lounge right outside where you can sit.”
“You said that high spiritual energy points to some type of ability,” Arthur spoke up. Molly felt a chill go up her spine. She hadn’t thought about it until now. “What exactly does this mean? Is it dangerous?!”
Evergleam waved at their concern. “His scans clearly indicate that he has the aptitude for a mind-related magical ability. It’s not a cause of concern. Fortunately, this is not the first time I’ve encountered a child who has manifested a powerful Arcanna. However, I would advise to keep the matter under wrap. At least until we can determine the exact nature of his gift. We could perform some invasive tests to determine more, but we believe it's best to wait for Ron to regain consciousness and tell us himself. In such cases, the individual's own experience and description often provide the most accurate insights.”
“When will he wake up?”
She shrugged. “It could be anytime. Unfortunately, there is no way to tell. We’ll monitor his progress tonight to see how well his body is adapting to the change. We can’t really say anything until at least tomorrow, but there’s a high chance it’s going to be soon.”
Arthur had a furrow between his brows and Molly was sure her eyes were red and puffy from the tears. She clutched her husband's hand, voice quivering as she asked, “I should have known. I should’ve noticed something. If we’d brought him here sooner he wouldn't-.”
She felt Arthur’s strong arm wrap gently around her shoulder. “Molly, you can't blame yourself. You couldn’t possibly have known.”
“Mr Weasley is quite right I am afraid, Ma’am.” Thorne stopped and gestured to the large glass window that displayed the inside of the Stasis Chamber.
Ron looked incredibly pale in the dim blue light. He lay on the floor in the center of the room in the middle of a large chalk-drawn circle containing glowing runes and seal symbols that she couldn’t even begin to understand. His hair was messy and spread around his head glowing like it was fire. She’d never seen him so still before. Even when he was asleep, he had a habit of moving around the bed, often falling out of it in the middle of the night.
Her heart clenched with dread at the thought that he might not wake up. She felt her legs weaken a little and took a seat on the beach on the opposite wall facing the window.
“The stasis seal is a necessary precaution we must take. With his core damaged to the extent it is, it is likely that his immune system is compromised. Everything else is just to monitor his condition and record any fluctuations we might encounter. The visiting hours are already over I am afraid, but you can come back and check up on him first thing in the morning.” With that Evergleam bade them goodbye, patting Molly on the shoulder awkwardly, and entered a worn-looking door at the end of the Hallway. Most likely her office.
“Your son’s case has been labeled as high-priority. If he wakes up during the night, as slim as the chance might be, we'll call for you. In the meantime, please refrain from revealing Ronald’s condition to anyone outside of the family. Given the amount of magic he has, there is a high chance that your son possesses an exceptionally potent ability, whatever it may be. He could easily draw the wrong crowd seeking to exploit his abilities. The exact nature of his peril is known only to me and Healer Evergleam's team."
With the final warning, the young Counselor left them in the basement. There were a few night staff rushing about the corridors, otherwise, the floor seemed to vacant.
With one final look at their comatose son, they left the hospital. Molly clutched Arthur's hand, her thoughts swirling with fear, concern, and hope. "Arthur," She called out as they sat down in the living room back at the Burrow, her voice trembling with worry. "What are we going to do? I can't bear to see him like this, and with his gift... I fear for what lies ahead."
Arthur looked back at her, his face etched with concern. "We'll do what we always do, Molly. We'll be there for him no matter what. Ron is stronger than you know. He’ll wake up soon. I just know it." Molly nodded though she felt her eyes brimming with a fresh wave of tears. "I know, but it's just... He's so young. He should be playing with his friends, not burdened with whatever his ability might be.”
Arthur squeezed her hand reassuringly but didn’t say anything more. The house was dark, She supposed Charlie had put the kids to sleep. Bill would come back at an ungodly hour and probably crash in bed till noon.
“I will check up on the kids.” She nodded and got up to prepare a light dinner. It wouldn’t do to sleep on an empty stomach. If sleep comes tonight
"GEORGE!"
Ron felt more than saw his brother's rough hand shove him out of the way of the oncoming spell. He fell to the ground hard enough for his teeth to rattle in his skull. A bright red light hit the older redhead in the middle of his chest and exploded out in tendrils of lightning that twisted his limbs at odd angles. The sight was horrific, the brightness almost blinded him but he couldn't make himself look away. Someone had poured lead down his neck and glued his eyes open for his head refused to turn and his eyes remained open, witness to the demise of the last of his family. Time seemed to slow down as he remained glued to the ground. Limbs useless. Eons passed before the light faded and his brother's broken body fell to the ground.
Ron barely managed to catch him before his head hit the ground.
“G-George?”
A sickening smell of burned flesh and blood entered his nose. Ron couldn’t bring himself to look at the gaping hole in his brother’s chest where his heart should be.
I-I don’t understand…This wasn’t supposed to happen.
This was his only remaining family, his best friend after Harry. His mentor after Bill. His pillar after Hermoine. Ron couldn’t just accept this. His breath had frozen in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. There was ringing in his ears that drowned out every sound. He strained his eyes to see the telltale sign of breathing but there was none.
“Don’t you- d-dare…” Ron had to adjust his hold when his arm became numb under George’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare leave me! George!” he rasped out, shaking his brother whose head lolled about like a ragdoll's; lips crimson from the blood that spilled out of his mouth. He didn’t know how long he sat there. An eternity or maybe it’s been seconds…he couldn’t tell. The light had left the hazel eyes, his lips eternalized in a shadow of a smile that matched his twin’s.
“Yet another one you’ve led to his death…When will you learn, Ronnie boy? You cannot win against me. Was this the last of your pawns? Or do you have anyone else ready to sacrifice for your delusions?”
An agonized, blood-curdling scream split the air. Ron barely registered that it came from his own torn throat. Insanity threatened to conquer his mind and the only thing he could tell was that he had to kill the mocking figure before him. The flame of vengeance licked at his soul poised to consume his whole being. They deserved no mercy. Anyone who came at him met the end of his wand. Creature after creature and Death Eater after Death Eater, falling like flies. A werewolf there with his throat split open, a vampire incarcerated with an overpowered Incendio, and a Death Eater bearing the brunt force of a Reducto. There was no end in sight. They swarmed him, throwing curses and jinxed, somehow not landing a single spell. For every person he cut down, there were two more ready to take his place.
Ron refused to feel remorse for anyone he killed. These were the men who killed without reason. They caused havoc, brought misery, and rained despair on everyone he’d ever loved. He fought and screamed until he lost his voice. He wrecked and killed, and it went on for an eternity. But something had to give eventually. Ron was already fighting on fumes. Only the anger and adrenaline had kept him standing. Until it wasn’t enough anymore, and a stray Expulso spell hit him square in the back rendering him almost immobile.
Nott Theodore Sr. brought down an unforgiving Crucio on him. Ron didn’t scream, but only because his throat was torn to shred. The taste of blood became a permanent fixture in his mouth until he felt like he could never taste anything else again. Again and again, every single nerve on his body was set on fire. There was no relief no matter how much he thrashed. Through all of it, he could hear Dolohov's mad laughter cutting into him. Because the bastard was right. It was his fault. All of it. He wasn’t strong enough. He had lost every single person he’d sworn to protect.
The pain subsided enough to let him open his eyes.
“Theo?” Nott Sr.’s grip on his wand went lax as he looked in front of him with eyes full of shock and hope. He followed the man’s line of sight and found his ex-classmate pointing his wand at his father. Ron would’ve found it in himself to be confused if he could muster up the strength. As it was he watched with empty eyes as the younger Nott threw a wordless Avada Kadavra at his father. Their eyes met for a split moment before Theo, garbed in his Death Eater robes, inclined his head and walked away, leaving him in a pool of his own blood. Not that it mattered. Ron would be dead soon anyway.
If there was one thing that he knew, it was that there are such things as ghosts, different from the ghosts that haunted the Hogwarts hallways. These ghosts were everywhere. In the old photos that lined the mantle on the fireplace. In the words of the songs that your mother sang. The trophies on your shelves that you were so proud of but now they sit collecting dust and hubris.
Close your eyes once and you are on your first day at school. Twice and you are on your way to the podium. Thrice and you are waking up for your first day at work. Now close your eyes once more and open them to find your wife beautiful and young on your wedding day. Next, your first baby is born. Blink again, your babies are now adults. One more blink and the curtains are falling and the ghosts start crowding in.
He looked at the shadows because there was nothing to look at, and he knew death was there waiting for him. He didn’t want to close his eyes because he knew that the minute he closed them the shadows would disappear, and the light would be gone along with it. But there is no more time to delay the inevitable. Death has him on the blade of his scythe, pleading for life to God whose decision is eternal. He couldn’t fight so he raged. He raged and burned and raved until the ghost of life disappeared with the shadows. Until the hand of death stole the light from his eyes though they remained open.
The ghosts of the past greet him then. Their arms encircling him and rocking him as if he were a babe. They soothed and conciliated the hard edges of his struggles. They smothered his flame and whispered into his ears. They muttered and murmured until he became one of them or nothing. The coldness of death had rendered him tired. The flame of his life was replaced with the Ice of death. He was returning to where he came from. It was time to go home.