Solis

Chapter XLIII

He seethed with anger. 

He was very angry. A feeling that made him to either throw a punch or unleash a string of curse words that any parent would sternly reprimand him for saying. But who cares? He was certain it was him; he's not stupid. Nico had recounted the previous encounter with his dad, Apollo—a car resembling a chariot, those blue eyes mirroring Ron's, the characteristic grin, and the dramatic personality. And to top it off, the teenager was dressed in summer clothes—seriously, who wears summer clothes in the middle of winter?

Only the god of the sun itself, of course.

And did the god even remember him?

Or only remember him because he had succeeded in the quest? Ron really wanted to be angry, but he also wanted to be happy because he had finally met him (with his dad finally remembering him). But why now? Why would his dad even show up here? Did he want to congratulate Ron?

Why does it sound so...so wrong and unfair?

After all this time?

Again, he was consumed by anger, glaring at the sky above hardly as if it were the most contemptible sight for mortals. The car was barely visible due to the thick clouds gathering over the snow-covered hills.

A storm was on the way—great, thanks, Zeus.

And besides, it's not like Apollo would bother waiting for him up there. He had told the god to get Zade out of that place safetly.

His eyes once again lifted upward, scanning the area above, and finally, he saw it. Within those thick, forming gray clouds, three figures were swiftly approaching. So rapid that, at a glance, it might resemble an eagle or the fastest bird any mortal could witness.

But not really.

Mormolyces. Hecate's servants. They were formidable monsters, not easily killed—their bodies infused with Greek magic, protected by Hecate herself, and the only god could decide if a demigod or a god could kill them is her, and the only thing Ron had learned is that Mormolyces hated when their hair was cut. 

As if their hair was even cuttable. It was more like it was burnable!

But he was being surrounded by them now. Ron gripped the broom and led them on a chase, trying to distance himself away from the car.

He didn't know which was faster between brooms and Mormolyces. Well, probably the Mormolyces, considering he were that far away when he was suddenly being attacked in every corner. 

"Give up now, you fool!" One of them tried to attack him from the side, but Ron swiftly pulled out his bronze and sliced through the hair coming his way. The Mormolyce let out a loud and angry screech in return. 

"No one will save you up here!" One of them on his right tried to grab his broom, but he sped away before it could even reach it.

"I don't care!" Ron glared forward.

"Not even your father!"

Ron knew. Since he was a kid, since he had realized who he is, but that doesn't mean he was giving up. He had saved himself without his help; maybe he could do it again this time? He then tried to veer to the left, but a hair coiled itself around the broom, and he yelped as he was pushed backward so hard he almost fell.

He had learned how to ride one when he was at Hogwarts, and he was genuinely relieved—really, really relieved.

As his hands instinctively reached behind him for an arrow, Ron's heart sank when he found nothing there. He glanced back in frustration and cursed under his breath. He had forgotten that almost all of his arrows had fallen over, and his wand—frantically, he attempted to reach for his wand, only to discover it was safely tucked away in his bag inside the car.

Ron gritted his teeth at the mocking taunts and laughter of the monsters. He wanted to fight them on equal footing, so he resolved to descend the hill. However, his path was blocked as one of the Mormo creatures swooped in front of him, halting his progress.

"Can't fight in the air?"

"Eat poop." 

They circled around him, faces gleaming as if they had finally cornered their prey, ready to attack and devour it raw. Ron surveyed the menacing creatures and the ground below, with a final, probably—a reckless decision, he vanished with apparition magic. Suddenly, his body reappeared at the summit of the hill, only to plummet uncontrollably down the steep slopes, tumbling towards the ground below.

"No!" he heard them screech as they pursued him. "Get him! Track him!" 

Ron took out his celestial bronze immediately when his body reached below and tried to defend himself from the attack. And since he did not know how to fight with a knife or a sword because he sucked at it, his celestial bronze flew into his hand when he tried to slashed his way out of them. He then fell to the ground on his back as they stood over him. He was panting heavily, already injured from trying to fight for his life.

He scrambled backward, but one of them loomed over him, trapping him.

"Look at you," The Mormo snarled. "Cowering like the coward you are."

Ron tried to glare at the Mormolyces, but its nails, like knives, dug toward his arms, drawing a large amount of blood. He attempted to push it away, but he was too tired, and the cold was seeping into his back. Gashes adorned his body, and his legs couldn't keep up anymore.

As he struggled to crawl away, he was held down again.

"Now, now," the Mormo above crooned. "Do you think a touch of sugar and honey might sweeten the deal?"

"Oh, they claim mangoes pair excellently with it!" One of them cackled with delight.

"The limbs! Fetch me the limbs, they're rumored to be the most delicious part!"

"Silence! The limbs are mine!" The other growled angrily, swatting away the other's hand as it reached towards him.

Really, very unfair.

An easy escape already presented itself while the monsters argued. He could have just gone and apparated somewhere far away or tried to cloak himself in mist to save himself, but his body faltered, exhaustion already taking its toll while the snowfall intensified from above. Though it was meant to be a picturesque scene, the dark clouds looming overhead cast a foreboding atmosphere, with thunder echoing ominously in the distance.

They might've waited for Ron to finish the quest before the gods made their move. The odds are high; they waited for Ron to run out of weapons and tried to send monsters to finish him off.

That's possible, right?

"Even in the face of death, you, young demigod, still managed to amuse me."

Ron's sudden jolt caught the Mormos off guard, their surprise quickly turning to anger. With a snarl, one of the monsters seized Ron's face, forcefully pressing it into the cold snow below.

"Get up, child."

The voice of a woman was too familiar, but he didn't understand.

" A hero's fight never includes giving up, even in their final moments."

If Ron were being honest, considering the things that happened to him since he was a kid, he feels more like a savior emerging from moments of torment than a hero.

"Confront my servants."

I'm not that even strong to defeat them!

"That is why I chose you. Because your father had seen the greatest in you."

Ron scoffed at that, somewhat offended. 

Amidst the ongoing bickering of the Mormors about which ingredients to mix with him, Ron took the opportunity to close his eyes, hoping to gather his strength or perhaps even devise an escape plan.

"Hecate." He whispered quietly.

He then heard a soft hum and the rustled of soft fabric.

"Tell me what to do, and I'll kill these monsters." Suddenly, a gentle chuckle filled the air, causing him to flush with embarrassment. Before he could react, a foul-smelling hand reached out and grasped his face.

"Have you ever thought about asking another god for help?"

"Are there any benevolent gods out there I need to beg for help?" he grumbled in frustration.

As silence enveloped him, Ron's heart began to pound in his chest. He hadn't even received a word of gratitude for freeing the goddess from her prison! So it seemed nobody was willing to lend a hand. Well, if that's how it's going to be, Ron figured he'd have to come up with a plan to get himself out of this mess. He might not be as clever as Annabeth, as strong as Percy, or able to control skeletons like Nico, but he was determined to give it his best shot.

Well, as much as his mind could think, he realized his best option was to run and apparate and just get these losers to somewhere far away. He then clasped the hanging fabric of the other two Mormolyces and apparated all three of them elsewhere, far from their current location.

Ron's eyelids fluttered open, greeted by the caress of a brisk evening breeze against his face. Above the building, he beheld the vast expanse of New York City sprawled out below him, the cacophony of traffic noise mingling with the twinkling lights of the bustling streets and towering buildings. This was his hometown, and the sight filled him with a sense of belonging. 

He made his way to the railings, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of the distant Empire State Building standing tall against the city skyline. His eyelids threatened to close once again as exhaustion washed over him, Gritting his teeth, he clutched his bleeding side tightly before finally succumbing to the pain, collapsing onto the ground below.

He reached into the pockets of his jacket and retrieved his last two remaining mistform cards. He had summoned almost all of them into arrows, leaving him really out of weapons now. He couldn't ascertain the whereabouts of those monsters at the moment, but he was certain he had dispatched them somewhere far. 

He might get killed if they found him up there.

Ron felt the weight of drowsiness settling in, prompting him to lean against the railing in search of some much-needed rest. "I'll be okay," he reassured himself, "just need to catch some sleep..."

Just as Ron was about to drift off, a hand suddenly touched his cheek and tilted his head, forcing his eyes open. "Don't," the boy warned urgently. "Don't fall asleep."

A familiar figure appeared before him, form was kneeling on one knee beside him. A young man with chestnut locks and azure eyes, clad in a red hoodie. With a tender touch, the figure reached for the nape of his neck, urging him to lean his head against the other warm shoulder for solace, while he carefully placed his hand on Ron's wounded side. The palms hovered just above the wounds, yet a gentle energy emanated with a faint glow. Ron could almost sense the pain dissipating in an instant, replaced by an immediate relief.

Someone called out his name, and suddenly, arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

"Please don't do that again," the voice whispered shakingly. 

A gentle hand cradled his face, so warm, similar to the sun that bathed you with its golden light as you rested in a meadow of grass late in summer back in the camp. Ron's eyes began to lower down, almost shutting, trying to immerse himself further in that comfortable feeling. “Stay awake for me, Solis.” The voice said, and Ron felt something shoved into his mouth. It was sweet and mushy, like cake, but tasted like a bacon burger that swamped his senses.

His eyes sprang open, and he quickly snatched the cake—hold on, ambrosia? Disregarding the details, he stuffed two more pieces into his mouth, choking as they began to burn his throat. But after the sensation faded, he could feel strength returning to him, and his mind started to clear.

He remembered apparating to every familiar place, attempting to evade the Mormolyce, he knew they would inevitably track him down. But there was one option left: he could flee from them, if only for a week or so. He just needed the time. But he had seen what happened after doing it for two days straight—just teleporting like that was sucking the magic out of him. So, his final familiar place was New York.

His hands then suddenly swept toward his injured side, but all the pain had already vanished.

That's when he also noticed a presence beside him, a strong one, though it seemed that they're trying to deliberately tone it down. He turned his head and saw a familiar face ahead, one that nearly turned his stomach and made him feel nauseous.

He clamped his hand over his mouth and began to vomit, feeling a hand rubbing his back in comforting movements. The hands didn't recoil in disgust or show hesitation; instead, they radiated love and reassurances. Ron felt tears forming in his eyes as those hands moved, and those same arms embraced him again. 

Ron nestled his head against his father's shoulder as those hands tenderly stroked his head, as if he were a child. "I'm here, I'll always be here," his father whispered.

☀️

Ron adjusted the hood of his jacket and planted his winter boots firmly into the snowy terrain before proceeding towards the distant hill. The storm had long dissipated, leaving a clear sky overhead, but the freezing cold persisted, wrapping around him like a relentless cloak so the redhead kept his hand buried inside his jacket's pocket and drew a breath before exhaling it shakingly.

He halted in front of a house atop the hill, standing before the door. With a series of knocks—perhaps four at first, then another five when it remained unopened. After a moment, there was some shuffling from within, followed by a pause of four seconds, then five, six, before the door finally swung open. 

The boy holding the door froze at the sight before him, his head tilted upward, wearing a kitchen glove on one hand, while his jaw hung open in shock. 

"Hullo," greeted Ron in that funny British accent. 

Startled, the boy released the whisk he was holding, as Ron tumbled backward onto the snowy ground with a resounding yelp and the sudden noise startled another figure within, and Molly Weasley came into view, clutching a bowl of flour. "Zade, my dear, what's—” She let out a loud gasp upon seeing him, and Ron weakly waved in response.

She also dropped the bowl she's holding with, and Ron felt a dampness against his jacket as he noticed his brother sobbing up with tears.

Ron was about to say something, but both of them were lifted upward, and he had never realized how strong Molly was until they were both enveloped in her tight suffocating hug. He gently patted his aunt's back for reassurance, knowing that the topic he would share with them would be a lengthy one for both of them, but he had good news. Very good news.

They were ushered inside, the three of them now sharing tears and embraces, grateful for the intimacy of their small group. Ron felt relieved that there were only three of them; it would be awkward if there were more. Zade clung to him, his arms wrapped tightly around his, afraid to let go. Ron knew he had acted impulsively that time, not considering the consequences of his actions on those he cared about.

He had thought Molly wouldn't yell at him, but she did, out of fear. She was scared, terrified of losing him.

She clung to the hope that he was still alive, knowing Ron's strength and believing that his father would protect him.

"He did, Auntie," Ron said, reaching over to ruffle Zade's hair affectionately. The relief that washed over her face caused Ron's lips to twitch into a bright smile.

Zade and Molly had developed a strong bond thus far. The boy had been assisting his Auntie with household chores, especially since Molly was the only one left in the Burrow. Meanwhile, his uncle Arthur had been tirelessly working at the Ministry, along with his cousin–Bill. He refrained from mentioning the name "Percy" because it would inevitably cause his Auntie to burst into tears.

The mention of Harry, who had just returned from Hogwarts with Ginny, caused his heart to skip a beat, his cheeks to warm, and a twinge of disappointment because he hadn't been able to meet him again.

He fidgeted slightly, realizing they were already late in meeting the others. Everyone else had already gone about their respective business, leaving only the three of them behind.

"Auntie, is there any possibility I can go back again to Hogwarts?”

Molly halted her kneading of the dough into circles. "You have already missed the majority of the semester, Ron. I am not sure whether the headmaster would permit your return.”

"I mean..." Ron trailed off, casting his eyes upon the freshly baked cookies on the table before returning to his aunt. “Is there any possibility I can go back there again without telling the headmaster?”

"If this concerns the plan you mentioned—"

"Yeah, but!" Ron rose from his chair, eager to explain his explanation. "It's the only option, and and–I need to make sure that every child before the onset of the war is safe! We already have the room prepared for them, protected by magic. All we need to do is assist these children, persuade them, and instill in them the trust that it's not solely about fulfilling their parents' ideals, but rather about embracing their own wants and aspirations.”

“I know this plan of yours could potentially succeed, but without the Headmaster's guidance and approval, you can't simply compel them. It would be dangerous–”

"But I'm not alone," Ron asserted firmly. "I have friends in Hogwarts who are willing to help—Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs—not to mention my friends and siblings outside. We have the tools for the war, all we need is the support and assistance from others, and we could win the war, and wait wait–why do we always need Dumbledore's approval when we can implement the plan if we all agree that it could benefit others, oh wait is this about the Order of Phoenix? Because–” Maybe he was speaking so rapidly because Molly stared at him breathlessly.

Zade snorted and split the baked cookie in half, stuffing one portion into his mouth.

"Right," Ron said as he returned to his seat.

"Alright," Molly conceded with a sigh. "If you believe it would benefit them, then go.”

Ron's face brightened, radiating a glow brighter than the city lights, but before he could even give a reply, Molly interjected him now with a resigned tone. "But I need you to be careful, Ron. If something were to happen to you again, I don't know how I'd manage. It feels like I'm failing as an aunt and perhaps even as a mother figure to you.”

Ron approached him and gently grasped his shoulder, "You're already like a mother to me, Auntie. A wonderful mother figure.”

Molly gave him a teary-eyed laugh. "Well, It would be wonderful news if everyone knew you were alive.” 

The redhead hummed and assisted his aunt with the dough, "I'll deal with the planning later.” So on that particular day, all three of them did nothing but bake cookies and assist Molly with his chores, while Ron told them stories about the camp. He led Zade through his attic room, and Ron sighed as he observed it as well. Everything remained unchanged—the pictures hung askew on the walls, the yellow painted wall, the shelves–everything.

Zade started the pictures on the wall, plucked one from the collection, and displayed it to Ron. "You looked so young over here," he commented.

Ron, who had been rummaging through a box of clothes, glanced up and noticed the picture of his siblings. "Ah," he started. "That's me at the age of eight.” His younger brother perched on the bed, gazing at the other pictures with fascination.

"And who's this guy?" Zade questioned, pointing to a picture of Harry. "He looks like he hasn't combed his hair in a week.”

Ron let out a snort, rising from his kneeling position on the floor to sit beside Zade and examined the picture. "That's my best friend. Harry Potter.”

"Is he a demigod too, like us?"

"Nope," Ron replied, popping out the 'p'. "He's just a special friend from my school. I'll introduce you to him soon, once I've had a loooong chat with him.”

Zade appeared confused but dismissed it with a shrug. "Anyway, are you two like a couple that split up?"

Ron realized Zade didn't intend any harm by the comment, perhaps just joking, but a blush spread across Ron's cheeks, and his younger brother regarded him with surprise. “Oh my god–”

"Zade, shut up!" Ron huffed. "We're not!” and he tossed a pillow at him before getting up but Zade wasn't one to let things slide; another pillow smacked the redhead at the back of his head. Molly stumbled upon the two of them engaged in a pillow fight and promptly scolded them. However, Ron couldn't contain his excitement when she mentioned that Arthur would be returning home later and wanted them both to prepare.

But Zade's attention wandered, and Ron followed suit, dashing through the corridor, up to the attic, and back down to the first floor, chasing each other until Molly intervened angrily and pulled them into the kitchen where Arthur was eating his dinner. 

His fork clattered onto his plate upon spotting Ron.

"Oh, goodness—Molly dear, I—!”

"I know, Arthur, I know. It's a long story—”

"Uncle!" Ron said, embracing him tightly. "How are you? Wait. Have you been eating enough lunch at the Ministry? You look so stressed!" he exclaimed. 

Suddenly, Molly's gaze sharpened, and Arthur began to sweat under her piercing stare. "Do you, Arthur?" she asked sharply.

"I," Ron's uncle began, "Well, I did eat the lunch you packed for me yesterday."

"Yesterday!?" Molly shrieked. "Only yesterday! Arthur, you are not taking care of yourself at work!” The married couple argued, or rather, it was Molly scolding her husband while Arthur sat there absentmindedly eating his dinner, probably trying not to listen. It took them another hour before they finally circled back to the topic, and Ron happily introduced Zade to him.

With a plethora of questions and explanations to tell, Ron still hesitated to broach the topic of his demigod status with Molly casting a concerned gaze in his direction.

"Everyone was taken aback," Arthur stated grimly, "Even Sirius Black attempted to return back there, as if you simply tripped or encountered some sort of mishap that's why they couldn't find you.”

"What about Harry?" Zad immediately gave him a suspicious look. "I mean Hermione and the others?" He immediately added.

"They're fine. Harry hasn't been the same since then. I suggest you reach out to them, especially him.” Ron felt the weight of guilt wash over him. He nodded slowly before offering him a tight smile. 

Another brief conversation before Ron excused himself. He then returned back to the attic with a heavy heart, releasing a sigh as he approached the orange curtain. Drawing it back, he looked upon the night sky, with the dark expanse stretching above the blanket of thick snow that covered the field.

He then proceeded to rummage through some of the bags beneath his bed, retrieving a parchment and pen. He sat by the window sill and began to carefully craft some words, but the letters kept shifting and twitching whenever Ron tried to concentrate.

He began with, "Dear Harry..." he murmured, then wrote, "I want to apologize," no, that's too pathetic, erase that. "I forget to write," no, that's a lie, he did think of writing to him (many times), but did not have the time! "I hope you won't be mad," no, Harry will only be angered by that.

He continued to waste the four available parchment sheets he had, so he grabbed a notebook instead. He rapped his pen against the paper's surface, trying to think of what to write. He could do this, just envisioning he was simply apologizing, not in a pathetic manner, but sincerely meant it.

But he came up with nothing; it was causing him a headache, especially when staring at the letters for so long. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door, and Zade entered. "You could just use a phone to text them," Zade suggested, plopping down on the bed.

"We can't use a phone. Didn't Jared already explain it to you?”

"Oh, right, geez," Zade muttered. "Most definitely, it's way too easy for the monsters to track us.”

"Yup," Ron exhaled, flipping to another page. "And besides, they don't have phones either.”

"So what's your plan now?" His younger brother asked, peering at the notebook Ron held. Well, he was just going to write a letter. It didn't matter much if they got upset; as long as Ron assured them he was alive, that should be enough, right? 

"We'lll stay here for a month. I'll discuss with the others back in the studio about connecting the fireplace there to here. ” Ron glanced back at the notebook, tore out a piece, and wrote something before folding it into quarters. Otus landed on the windowsill, pecking at the window before Ron approached and opened it. "For Harry Potter," Ron stated, and the owl hooted before taking the letter from his hand and vanishing into the clear sky. 

"What did you write?" Zade questioned as Ron settled beside him.

"Nothing you need to know," he answered and beckoned the younger to lay beside him. “Come here, you dungerpoop.”

“What?”

Ron dropped the map of Hogwarts onto a table he had placed in the center of his room, while Zade pushed the other items to the sides to create some space. The Iris message was positioned above them, and everyone in the studio gathered around on their own table adorned with chess pieces and candies, likely placed there by some of Athena's children.

It's been four days since then, and Ron hasn't had a good night's sleep, nor has Zade, because they both toss and turn too much in their sleep, reminded him again to create another room for him (which he didn't have a time to do so.) Annabeth was present, rearranging the pieces, indicating where and which equipment to place for the war.

There were many items they ended up sorting out and many occasions when they ended up staying up late because of it, there was one evening when they did not hear the taps at the door and seeing Molly standing there, as she glanced at the Iris Message and let out a surprised gasp. 

"Hi," one of the demigods there waved.

So Molly consistently left them snacks and advised them not to stay up too late. She was particularly referring to Zade, as he was always the one complaining when being woken up.

On the sixth day, Macey informed them that the Floo network was already set up, and he had Zade to try it out first. "Make sure you don't stumble over your words, or you might end up somewhere," Ron cautioned.

He and Molly waited anxiously for another minute until Zade vanished into the green smoke, only to reappear moments later in the fireplace, coughing from the floo powder. "I hate this!" he shouted.

"How did it go?" Ron asked eagerly.

"It worked, but tell your friends to make the studio's fireplace bigger! Even a nine-year-old wouldn't fit in," he said angrily as he stormed out of the room.

"Oof!" Ron exclaimed, chasing after his younger brother upstairs to apologize despite the aggressive kicks he received.

Ron packed his belongings into his duffel bag, mostly consisting of leftover ambrosia from his room and weapons. He then retrieved his wand from the bag on the side of the room, releasing a sigh as he tucked it into his pocket, before assisting Zade with his bag.

He informed Zade that he would return to the studio after sorting things out at Hogwarts and even if Zade wanted to accompany him, the redhead wouldn't leave him in an unfamiliar place. Therefore, he told Zade to remain with their other siblings at the studio, oversee matters, or possibly visit the Burrow since the Floo networks there and at the studio were interconnected. In essence, the plan involved apparating directly the room where Daphne and the others were using to contact the studio, and assessing the situation in case they needed assistance.

"Are you planning to use the Floo network?" Molly questioned as she helped Zade with his jacket.

"No," Ron replied. "I'll apparate directly into the castle.”

Molly looked slightly taken aback but immediately changed it to neutral. "Oh, of course. Well, just making sure..." Molly sighed. "Come here, you two," she said and wrapped her arms to both of them.

Zade was the next one who enveloped him in a tight embrace, prompting Ron to say something before he felt suffocated by the embrace. His younger brother untangled his arm and turned to get the floo powder before stepping into the fireplace and declaring the name of the studio.

Ron made a slight adjustment to his bag's strap and paused for a breath before facing his aunt again. "We'll be back soon,” he promised before taking a step back and disapparated.

He even remembered the first time he apparated vividly; it churned his stomach and made him feel queasy, but he had grown accustomed to it, though still experiencing a slight dizziness. Everything spun around him as if he were being sucked into a swirling vortex, akin to being flushed down a toilet. Then, with a loud crack, Ron found himself standing in the middle of a corridor at Hogwarts.

He pressed himself against the wall to his left as he heard footsteps approaching, and soon he saw some students pass by giggling with each other. He cast a quick glance around him, creating a misty barrier before stepping out and surveying his surroundings. There were still a few students lingering about, as it was only six in the evening. He attempted to navigate his way toward the grand staircase of the castle, carefully weaving through the bustling corridors of Hogwarts.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, steadying his grip on the railing as he approached the moving staircase. With calculated precision, he jumped down to the level below just as the other staircase moved, deftly balancing himself to avoid any misstep.

He hurriedly dashed towards the open hall leading to the corridor, nearly colliding with someone, he stumbled over his own feet, nearly tumbling to the ground, but managed to catch himself by placing his hand on the wall just in time.

He remained still, particularly when someone turned around, and Ron's breath almost caught in his throat when he realized it was Professor McGonagall. Her gaze bore into him before she pivoted on her heels with a disapproving snort.

Phew, that was close. Well, he needed to hurry. With a sense of urgency, he began running, taking a left, then a right, followed by another right.

His hand trailed along the wall as he scanned his surroundings, tapping the bricks lightly and pressing his ear against them. Suddenly, the wall began to shift, and Ron took a step back in surprise as he watched it morphing into a door before his eyes. He opened the door and stepped inside, finding himself in another corridor with another door veiled by red curtains at the end. 

He could hear whispers and murmurs from inside, the sound growing louder as he approached. When he parted the curtain, he could see the members of the music club, seemingly engaged in a heated argument with each other.

Ron's mist shimmered around him as he stumbled, knocking into the circular table cluttered with leftover dinners, scattered papers, and parchment. Ink had been spilled on the floor, and pens were strewn about amidst the chaos.

"Oh my gosh!" Grenda shrieked, her voice echoing through the room, as everyone turned around with wide eyes, startled by Ron's sudden appearance.

Suddenly, four arms toppled him to the ground, with Grenda and surprisingly Gwyneth among them. Meanwhile, Daphne stood tearfully in the corner, with Kim holding another box of tissue. Astoria was also present, seated in one of the chairs, her smile forced as she looked towards them. 

"Alright, alright," Ron said, gently pushing the two girls away from him. "I'm alive—"

"Alive and in dire need of an explanation!" Gwyneth exclaimed. "Merlin, we still couldn't believe your letters…"

He gently nudged Grenda them towards the circular table as he surveyed the items scattered there. "Are you guys really trying to plan things while I'm away?”

"Well," Kim said, clearing his throat to get their attention. "We kind of tried. Gwyneth came up with the idea of advertising it without really advertising it,”

"It means," Gwyneth sighed, placing her hand on Daphne's shoulder to calm her. "If we really want to help these students, we must do it discreetly! Especially if we don't want to involve the Headmaster,”

Ron waved his wand, clearing the table, and set down his bag. "We still have some time, I think," Ron said. "How about we discuss this advertisement first?"

"What about you tell us who you really are first?" Kim cut in.

"Yeah," Grenda agreed. "It's frustrating to just read your letters on the parchment without really understanding them. I wanna know who is who and what is what.”

Ron turned around in the room and spotted an unused fireplace. He retrieved a large bottle of Floo Powder from his bag. "Fine," he said. "You know that there's a place in London where we can keep the Slytherins safe?”

They all nodded.

"Well, all we have to do is establish that connection; they've already linked the pathways anyway, " Ron explained as he withdrew his wand, directing his focus towards the fireplace. Soon after, a verdant sparkle emanated from it before vanishing.

"Did you just..." Astoria began in surprised. "Create a Floo connection?”

“Impossible.” Gwyneth stared at the fireplace with amazement, “Only the Floo Network Authority and the Department of Magical Transportation could set up such a connection that easily, as they're required to list it.”

Ron turned towards them, gesturing towards the bottle of Floo powder. "We've designated a name for the location, and you'll appear right in the center of the room.”

Grenda folded her arms, "But that doesn't explain your true identity! And how, and who, and what—"

"Grenda," Daphne interjected softly, her tears now dried. "Do not force him.”

Ron smiled at her before pulling out a chair and allowing them to gather around the table in the center of the room. He then retrieved a map from his bag. "It's alright," he began, "I'll tell you everything, but first, we need to discuss the rest of the plan and figure out how we're going to advertise it.”

☀️

There was a piece of parchment pinned on the castle hallway's battered bulletin boards the next day. At first, it seemed like a regular notice, but upon closer inspection, the words would come alive, revealing their message to anyone who took the time to look. The parchment went unnoticed because no one paid much attention, but those who did notice were the students who truly deserved to see such a message.

A second-year Slytherin student passing by happened to catch sight of the words. He grabbed his friend's cloak and pointed it out, but at first, they wouldn't believe him so when he returned to the same board the next day, the words were now clearly visible to him. 

The message contained directions to a location, presented like a piece of a map with written instructions, making it a bit easier to decipher. The student was so excited that he wanted to show it to his friend, so with some persuasion, the two of them examined it together. Students who saw it were curious, but those who didn't see it looked on in confusion.

As the weeks progressed, the wall was uncovered by the diligent students who searched for the place, and there stood Ron Prewett, observing the small group of students waiting outside.

"What are you kids waiting for?" he said cheerfully upon seeing them. "Come in!”

Ron pulled aside the curtains, revealing a now improved room to the students. Instead of just chairs and a battered table in the room, it was now filled with soft couches, additional tables, and shelves overflowing with different kinds of books. Some students were resting on the couches and the carpet, while few of them were engaged in arguments over which designs would be better to implement.

The group of younger students looked on in awe. Some of them were a bit scared, especially the Slytherin among them, feeling uneasy about being in the presence of students from other houses.

"Here!" A Ravenclaw waved them over to some empty couches. "I brought some snacks, enough for everyone," they said, extending the invitation warmly.

"Go on," Ron encouraged the hesitant students, who eventually relaxed and reclined on the couches.

"What the," one of the third-year Slytherin shrieked as her nail polishing was accidentally disturbed by one of the Gryffindor children.

"Sorry," he said apologetically.

"Whatever," she replied dismissively, resuming her nail polishing. "Just be careful!" she added sternly as the boy continued to play with the others.

"So, how many are new?" Daphne questioned loudly, gazing at the rolled parchment she was staring at. 

"Four of them, over all, we're making a total of seventeen," replied someone, updating the count.

The fireplace then suddenly erupted in green smoke, and two students materialized, leaping with excitement. "It's amazing, it's fantastic!" one of them exclaimed.

Ron assisted some of the children in relaxing on the couches, then led the others on a tour, especially in the studio. The place was more crowded than the room they had at Hogwarts; it was filled with campers from all over the cabin. It was kind of hectic; they needed to ensure that everyone returned back without being suspicious. Still, they needed to streamline the process; students had to sign their names on the parchment if they wanted to visit on that particular day. This allowed Ron and the others to track their visits efficiently.

Another week had passed, but they were slowly having difficulties promoting it. Ron questioned Grenda the reason why, given that she was the sole available person that Wednesday lunch, but she was preoccupied with doing her homework.

"Everyone was too focused on that upcoming apparition test! '' Grenda exclaimed, expressing her excitement. “Oh, I wish I could take one.”

"Eh, why?" Ron said, sinking into one of the available couches. "Do you need to be a certain age for that?"

"Obviously, who would let a first-year onto an Apparition test," Grenda said. "And besides, they're being tracked by the Ministry.”

Suddenly three students entered the room after an hour, appearing anxious. "Um," one of them hesitated. "There's a bunch of Slytherins waiting outside; they're with Greengrass," she informed quietly.

“Who?” Ron questioned, sitting up straight, 

Before they could reply, Ron and Grenda were already striding down the corridors toward the door. The redhead hurriedly opened it, revealing Daphne with Blaise and Pansy standing outside impatiently. 

Impatiently, Pansy stood with her arms crossed, snapping her head toward them. "You," she spat angrily. "It's your fault, Draco is having a bad day!"

"Pansy," Daphne sighed. "It wasn't his fault. Don't just blame everyone because your boyfriend doesn't listen to you."

"He's not my boyfriend. We broke up in third year," Pansy hissed back, sounding even more annoyed.

"What's this?" Blaise asked, gesturing towards the door. "Another D.A hideout and you being alive?”

"That's two questions," Ron let out a wide grin. "Well, why don't you guys come in first?"

"Oh, we're not. We're here for answers!" Pansy interjected. "You think we could just possibly let you–”

Another set of footsteps echoed, causing them all to tensed up. Grenda frantically pulled the three of them indoors, and Ron nervously closed the door. The five of them stood, ears trained on the sounds outside. They could hear the footsteps getting closer, there were some rustles of parchment and hurried muttering outside, before all fell to silence.

"Do you think it was just another student who found this place?" Grenda questioned.

"Maybe," Ron replied, trying not to overthink. "Should I check?”

"You're not supposed to be seen by anyone, Prewett." Daphne shook her head. 

"Sure, he can't," Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He's supposed to be dead, right?”

"I'll take a look," Grenda stated. "You guys wait for me here," she instructed before pausing to take a breath and exiting through the door. The four of them remained, waiting anxiously, one minute passing, then two... the steady tick, tick, tick of Blaise's wristwatch serving as a reminder of the passing time.

Within three minutes, the Hufflepuff finally returned back, sporting a gleeful expression.

"Is it Professor Snape?" Ron questioned in nervousness.

"No," she replied, shutting the door behind her. "You wouldn't believe it!”

“Who?” 

"I saw Harry Potter!" Grenda exclaimed. 

☀️

Ron felt the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. It had been two days since he learned that Harry had passed by the place, which still confused him. What was Harry doing up here? This place was hardly known or visited; it was like a forgotten corridor leading to a shortcut on another path. No one really paid attention to him as he pondered the possibilities in the corner of the room while munching on his muffin

And Pansy kept rattling about Draco for two days, and Ron found himself obliged to join the Slytherins. He then questioned whether she had already informed him about this room.

"Plenty of times," Pansy cried out. "But he simply wouldn't trust us!”

"Then what should we do?" Gywneth asked while assisting a first-year with their homework.

"We'll continue to lay low," Ron replied slowly. "But if you can earn Draco's trust, then..." He glanced at the other Slytherin. 

Blaise was lounging on one of the couches, sipping his tea quietly, but raised an eyebrow at their direction. Ron must have squinted his eyes because, okay, handsome–he immediately cleared his throat and looked at the others. "Anyways, Pansy, I know you can do this,"

"You wouldn't know!" That was their final conversation about it, but at least the two Slytherins helped with advertising the place.

Regarding Harry, surprisingly, he learned the guy was still walking outside the place. On each occasion, there was a moment when the Gryffindor would encounter some students outside who were waiting, and Ron just kind of panicked whenever that happened. But most of them lied when Harry asked them if they had seen any older students walking around the area.

These young students were smart; they already knew what to say and came up with a lie. Ron bet they were Slytherins, which they truly were when he finally opened the door to see a bunch of them. 

Whenever Ron opened the door, Harry would show up later with an annoyed groan.

"Where is he?" He could hear the other's voice, and just by the sound of it, Ron's chest would already flutter. Who was he looking for? He had heard from the others who had caught sight of Harry, that he seemed to be searching for someone.

These encounters continued for another week, this time it seemed like Harry was with someone.

"Harry, hold on, are you sure about this?" It was Hermione's voice, and Ron's breath shook.

"I am!" Harry exclaimed, his voice tinged with weariness and irritation, while Ron felt consumed by guilt. "I know he's alive, and his name kept showing up in this exact location, but–”

"Harry," Hermione's voice faltered, "It might be a trick or someone playing a prank on you. You shouldn't put too much trust in that letter and that map of yours.”

Wait. Is she talking about the–

"I was certain he was alive," Harry snapped. "I recognize his writing, the type of paper he'd use when he doesn't want to write in a parchment. I know his owl–”

"Harry, please," Hermione said in desperation, and Ron's fists tightened as he waited patiently for Harry to respond.

"Fine. I'll search for him alone, after I deal with Malfoy." He heard Harry added before their heavy footsteps faded away.

That Marauders Map.

Later that day, they found Ron kept pacing back and forth in a corner of the room, muttering loudly to himself. No one bothered to approach him or strike up a conversation because even if they tried, Ron wouldn't hear or acknowledge them. There were also times when Ron would sit in a corner, sulking quietly, sometimes on the nearby table, with a piece of paper and a pen lay untouched in front of him.

Pansy, growing irritated by the sight, was the first to leave the room.

Well, Ron did indeed look pathetic, and he had to return to the studio to cry it out to Annabeth or anyone who would listen, which was pretty much anyone. Well, they gave some terrible advice, but Ron held onto it in his heart because it was the most beautiful words he had that day. Especially with his birthday approaching, everyone back in the studio seemed to be trying to cheer him up by sending him gifts and mostly the one would make you scream (from Hermes’ children).

So on his birthday, Zade and his other half-siblings had sent him baked lemon cakes and shared it with others. It was already mid-afternoon, and everyone who had visited the place that day was very lucky because they got to enjoy a free cake.

And so, there were six young students there enjoying a calm day when one of them started conversing with the others.

"Did you hear," One of the second-years whispered conspiratorially, as though sharing some top-secret information. "That Harry Potter got struck by a Bludger and tumbled off his broom!” Perhaps it was the shock, but Ron nearly choked on his own lemon cake, sputtering and coughing uncontrollably in the corner as the students glanced at him. He waved them on awkwardly, feeling embarrassed by the interruption.

What in the banshees and the harpies that Harry was accidentally struck by a Bludger?

The conversation came to a stop as Pansy reappeared with tears welling up in her eyes, her voice choking with sobs.

The second-year students shared a fleeting glance before excusing themselves, leaving Ron to stare after the Slytherin with surprise. "Pansy—"

"You won't breathe a word of this to anyone!" she whispered fiercely.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Ron said with confusion, as he watched her settle onto one of the couches. He then opened the last box containing a lemon cake. "Do you want some?"

"Is that cake?”

"Uh, yeah? It's my birthday."

“No wonder everything feels so ill-fated.” Pansy groaned, slouching deeper into the cushions of the couch.

"Gee, thanks," Ron then cut a slice for her before settling into the seat across from her. "Is this related to Draco again?”

"No one else," Pansy murmured, her weariness was obvious as she slowly nibbled on the cake. "Draco's condition is deteriorating. He still refuses to tell us what was happening to us and to top it all off, he's been frequenting the seventh floor for almost everyday!”

"What's he doing up there?"

"He won't say anything about it. He's stubborn!”

Ron then remembered Harry mentioning about dealing with Draco. "Is there anything suspicious you've noticed about him?"

"Oh, so you're insinuating he's the enemy?" Pansy retorted, dropping her fork onto her lemon cake.

"What, no?" Ron panicked. "Well, if he frequents the seventh floor, shouldn't you guys like–I don't know, man. Follow him?”

"We've tried, alright!" Pansy exclaimed wearily. "But he always manages to vanish. It's probably the Room of Requirement.”

"Ooookay..." Ron hesitated, his brow furrowing. "So, do you want me to talk with him or...?”

The Slytherin stared at him for a moment before rising from her seat with a dramatic sigh. "You know what? Why do I even bother? I thought this, whatever plan you're concocting, would save Draco!”

"It is," Ron mumbled with a mouthful of cake. "Well, considering your boyfriend's stubbornness and his reluctance to listen, why don't we start a small investigation?”

Following that, Pansy flushed like a tomato at and let out a loud exasperated sigh before settling into her seat. "Whatever," she conceded. 

Ron gave a small smile. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "We'll save him.”

They indeed started on a small investigation after that day. Ron asked Pansy if there were any peculiarities about Draco aside from his worsening condition. Did he stumble over certain words or appear nervous about something specific? It's possible that whatever was happening in the Room of Requirement contributed to Draco's visible stress?

"What, are you a doctor or something?" Kim chuckled from the corner as Ron took out a notebook to jot down the answers.

"Shut up," Ron huffed, erasing the messed up letters he wrote. Pansy informed him that Draco appeared somewhat suspicious, often accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, Blaise informed him that Draco was constantly tossing and turning in his bed, likely due to distress and that indicated a–

"Problem!" Ron exclaimed, displaying the word from his notebook.

"Are you sure that's how you spell the word 'problem'?" Daphne questioned, scrutinizing the spelling.

"Oh, come on, Daph," Ron waved her off. "We've finally come to the conclusion that Draco does indeed have a problem, and the only way to find out what it is is to investigate what's happening on the seventh floor!”

Pansy stood up abruptly from her seat and stormed out of the room shouting; "This is the worst investigation!" 

Blaise shook his head in disappointment and trailed after the girl, leaving the others to turn their attention to Ron, who slowly shut his notebook. "Okay, fine. I'll go investigate physically.” 

He instructed them to keep watch over the place while he was gone, as he intended to head to the seventh floor to see if he could spot anything suspicious there, to investigate what was causing Draco so much stress over there.

He made a conscious effort to avoid being distracted by his surroundings as heetopped in front of the wall behind a tapestry and scanned the area. "Okay," he murmured, then reached out and touched it. They said that the Room of Requirement only reveals itself when the student is in need of it. He then paced in front of the wall three times and emitted a warm energy, testing if the room would grant him entry under special circumstances (that he was a demigod.)

"Please show me how to save Draco," he whispered, and it was only a few seconds when suddenly he felt the wall shifted, revealing a door.

He stepped inside, finding himself in what seemed like a vast inventory of the castle. The interior was chilly as he shut the door behind him, and the air felt stifling, a stark contrast to the place he had seen during Dumbledore's Army meetings back then.

He cautiously made his way among the various objects there—books, weathered brooms, a worn-out chair, an aged dozen paintings, and a lot more. Most of them were covered in dust and appeared to be relics of the past. He looked around, realizing he had been there for about an hour. But he suddenly felt it, a sudden burst of dark energy emanating from the corner of the room. He then attempted to move some objects aside to pinpoint its source.

And there in the corner stood a large cabinet, appearing just like any other old piece of furniture. Ron approached it and examined it closely, touching and inspecting it, even looking behind it. His hand gripped the handle and didn't hesitate in pulling it open, he then felt a rush of cold air against his face as he stared into the void within.

He closed it again, finding himself torn between considering the cabinet suspicious and dismissing it entirely. Anyway, it must be another object, as the dark magic isn't really emanating from it; it seems to be originating from something deeper in the room. 

Ron then figured he'd return back by tomorrow since he left his weapons behind and wasn't up for taking any risks right now. But whatever that surge of dark magic is, it needs to be taken care of right away; it's giving him the heebie-jeebies while his instincts were kept urging him to break the magic before it consumed someone completely.

He hurried down the corridor toward the grand staircase when he caught whispers. He stopped on his tracks and mistook the voices coming from Professor Snape or Filch, only to realize they were just two Gryffindor students beneath the alcove.

"Ah, so you've ended things with her," said the other student, their voices were recognizable as Ron attempted to discreetly move past them.

"Ginny and I just won't work, mate. I don't know, I tried, but it sort of fell apart.” The other responded with a disgruntled tone, and when Ron finally glimpsed their faces below, his eyes widened in surprise. It was Seamus and Dean "you know that, it doesn't matter anymore. I don't want to talk about it. Harry's just getting on my nerves, that's all.”

"Who's getting on whose nerves?" Ron asked, stepping between them. Their faces quickly turned towards him, and they let out startled sounds, sounding like some scared horses.

"Wha the fu–" Dean began to curse loudly, unlike Seamus who had his back pressed against the corridor wall, trying not to scream at the sight before him. Ron arched an eyebrow at the pair trembling at the sight of him, as though they had just glimpsed a troll.

Seamus erupted into another string of curses while Ron regarded them with interest. "So, what's this about breaking up with Ginny? You two had something special, ey?”

"Y-you’re," Seamus exclaimed, his voice rising in panic. "You're supposed to be dead!”

Dean now remained silent in the corner, his lips drawn into a thin line but his face was paler than white. Ron glanced at both of them and let out an eye roll, "Oh, don't take everything the newspaper says, Seamus.”

"But—" 

Dean took a long breath to regain his composure. "Merlin, this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen today.” The boy appeared to be trying to quickly discern something

Seamus glanced back and forth between them, his brow furrowing. "You know something, Dean?”

"Well, I don't put any stock in what the Daily Prophet says nowadays. I haven't bothered reading it since fifth year; it's just full of nonsense.” Dean snorted. "And why are they so concerned about hearing of Ron's death?”

"Nah, I bet they just pressured my uncle into it," Ron replied. "But I'm so relieved! Listen, I've been meaning to tell you this but are you guys interested to hear about this plan of mine? Oh wait, have you seen the new advertisement hidden in every board at Hogwarts? Do you–"

"Alright, I'm done," Seamus interrupted.

Dean tugged Seamus backward, his smile strained, "Do you mean that advertisement that moves when you stare at it for too long, and gives the students a massive migraine?” the Gryffindor then squinted his eyes. "Interesting, because Professor McGonagall wanted to take it down right away by the end of the week because she thought it was some sort of a prank.”

Ron jerked his head, "Well, students gossip spreads like wildfire, but don't worry, the advertisement won't be easily removed. If it does come to that, students will only become more curious and want to read it.”

"What does the advertisement say, anyway?" Dean questioned, as Seamus huffed, clearly uninterested in hearing about it.

"Well, war is looming," Ron's voice suddenly took on a serious tone. "We'll need all the fighters we can get, especially for those who have learned enough to aim spells and defend themselves.”

Dean and Seamus exchanged confused glances. "What are you talking about–”

"Well, essentially, we already have safe spaces for students who can't fight. Third years and below should be in a secure area, while fourth years and above need to be out on the field.” Ron elaborated hastily and then waved his wand, causing a piece of parchment to materialized between the three of them. “Listen, this isn't just about Slytherins; it's about any students who need help. That advertisement knows how to tell when they need protection, so it can guide them. Anyway, I'm giving you guys the advertisement.”

Seamus accepted it, looking bewildered. "Have you discussed this with Dumbledore or Professor Mc–"

"Do we have to?" Ron asked impatiently. "There will come a time when we won't rely on them anymore.”

"I don't–” but an unexpected sound cut off Dean, causing all the three to instinctively tense. 

"It's good to see you two again; you've changed a lot since we last met, honestly! I've missed you guys. And if you want to find me, I'll be wandering the third-floor corridor. But please, keep this between us; don't let Harry and the others know about the plan–not yet–” Ron vanished into the mist just as some students showed up in the hallway, crowding the space and leaving the two Gryffindors looking astounded.

☀️

Pansy was fuming with anger. Well, not entirely boiling over, just irritated again, and maybe even a tad entertained when Ron told her what he had discovered. They lounged on the couches, encircling the table, with a few snacks to munch on as they strategized their next moves. It's been another week since the start of their investigation, and Blaise mentioned that Draco appeared to be gradually opening up, but still remained somewhat hesitant.

"You know about his father," Blaise said, putting the Daily Prophet back to the table. "Either he was coercing Draco to do something, or it's the Dark Lord himself threatening him.

Pansy smoothed his hair at the corner with a trembling hand, trying to maintain composure so as not to draw attention.

Daphne and Astoria then entered with two new first-year Slytherin students, both clinging tightly to Daphne's robe in fear. Ron was about to stand up, but Pansy beat him to it. "I'll take care of them," she hurriedly said. 

Blaise's lips twitched into a slight smile as he glanced at Ron, who had slumped back on the couch and was munching on his tortilla chips. "You know," the Slytherin began, "She's been warming up to everyone lately.”

"Really?" the redhead questioned, turning his head towards the other happily. Well, it's not just about bullying anymore, is it? This place seems to be bringing the houses back together; most of the first-year students from other houses have made new friends from Slytherin. Yeah, they fought, but it wasn't a heated argument where they started hurling curses and hexes at each other; mostly just friendly scuffles like wrestling over which is the best food to eat.

Maybe Ron was just really pleased, so he might have overdone it trying to help Draco. After discussing the students' stay in the studio during the summer for safety, they agreed to address the investigation about Draco's situation again. 

Ron thought they were making some progress, Well, it seemed like Pansy and he were the only ones putting in effort. She managed to get hold of Crabbe and Goyle regarding Draco's situation, and Ron was the one keeping an eye out for Draco in case something bad happened to him. He was also looking into the cabinet, trying to figure out why it was so significant that Draco always stood in front of it every time he encountered him in the Room of Requirement, visibly frustrated.

Ron had followed him one afternoon, though he hadn't planned to conduct the investigation that day. He was sneaking around, hoping to find anything interesting in the castle that afternoon. But forget about that. Ron was curious though when he caught Draco entering the boys’ bathroom.

He paused for a long minutes before taking a step back. Well, that was...that was his business. Then, with embarrassment clouding his thoughts, he hurried back to the marble staircases, nearly colliding with a figure if he hadn't stepped aside to let them pass.

He was at the staircase's peak when he suddenly felt it, a swift zip of magic followed by a booming voice from the bathroom. “MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!” that made Ron spin back, his senses picking up the danger. He hurried back into the boy's bathroom, his heart was pounding loudly from his chest. However, upon entering, what he witnessed left him rooted to the flooded floor in shock.

"Harry," he croaked, all the mist dissipated around Ron while taking in the scene before him. His closest friend knelt beside Draco, who bore a deep gash across his chest, blood oozing from the wound. "What have you done?" Harry turned his head toward his direction, his eyes widened in horror. 

The door banged open behind Ron, and in that moment, he surrounded himself with a mist, vanishing from their sight.

It was Professor Snape who entered and through some incantation with his wand, he managed to staunch the bleeding, repeating the process twice more before finally hoisting Draco up. Ron could see beneath a façade of indifference to his face, but he could discern the simmering rage coming from it. 

He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, “And you, Potter…you wait here for me.”

As Professor Snape disappeared with Draco, the redhead revealed himself and sank to his knees before Harry, who quivered amidst the blood-soaked surroundings. He too was drenched in blood, his eyes were staring at his own hands, horrified. 

"Harry," Ron called out to him, and for a moment, Harry seemed distant, lost in space. But then, for the third time, the Gryffindor finally turned his gaze towards him.

"R-Ron...?" he tried, his voice hoarse.

"Calm your nerves," Ron said softly, cupping both of Harry's cheeks to offer some warmth. "Stay calm, Harry. Stay calm. It's okay,” Harry only stared at him, knowing that under different circumstances, they would have been in tears at the sight of seeing each other again. 

Myrtle sobbed and wailed in the corner, but Ron paid her no heed, instead focusing on holding Harry's arm steady to quell its trembling. "Harry, listen closely. I need you to be brave, okay? I need you to be safe. Do it for me, okay, do it for Hermione and everyone, please?”

Harry continued to nod fervently, and when Ron attempted to release his hand, Harry firmly clasped it back.

"When will you return?" Harry asked, eyes glued on their intertwined hands with a complicated expression.

"Don't worry about it,” Ron reassured.

“When?”

"Harry–" Ron paused, and tried to release his hands from him to grip his arm to assure him. "I'll be there, just hang on for me, okay? I need to go and Snape's coming back, I can sense his presence.” He didn't want to leave Harry alone there, or cut their talk so short but he would wait for Harry, and Harry too would always wait for him, no matter what.

Days went by after the incident, and Ron had to calm down Pansy about the situation, but her anger only worsened, she directed it at Harry, to him, and everyone else. Pansy didn't return for a week, which only fueled Ron's annoyance. He was overwhelmed with stress, and despite everyone's advice to stick to the plan, how could he when there were so many obstacles in sight? 

The room was empty due to the Quidditch final match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw happening that afternoon. Gwyneth had stayed in the studio, assisting whoever needed help, while Ron was unable to visit because he had work to do there. With a sigh, he stood up from his couch, deciding to go and maybe check Draco's condition as well without being seen.

He trudged down the corridor, his footsteps heavy, until he found himself standing in front of the Hospital Wing. He pressed his ear against the door, hoping to catch any signs of movement, but heard nothing. With caution, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside, carefully shutting it behind him. Pansy, Blaise, and an unfamiliar Slytherin, along with the other two, Crabbe and Goyle, were engaged in a heated argument. Draco appeared to be holding up, though he still looked pale, he noticed.

"I don't think the plan would work flawlessly. He's still not disclosing what he had in that place kept referring to as a studio," Blaise stated earnestly.

"Gryffindors detest us for Salazar's knows how long, it was enough to raise suspicions to see how he suddenly started being friendly with you two," said the other unfamiliar Slytherin. "He could be trapping the students and kill them later on,"

What, no!

"Don't be daft, Nott," Pansy snapped. “The only monster capable of such an act is the Dark Lord, and that Potter!” No one spoke after that, but they all glanced at Draco, who remained fixated on the emptiness before him. 

"Snape has landed him in detention, that unfortunate Potter," Blaise sighed. "Anyway, he had it coming.”

Detention? What kind of detention did Professor Snape assigned to him?

"Well, it was his fault, and I hope they lose the Gryffindor match because everyone knows they won't stand a chance without him," Pansy snarked. Right, so they were talking behind Harry now, pausing in their argument and simply discussing him, probably to lift Draco's spirits. He quietly excused himself to let them sort things out, but he hoped they would return soon. 

That day turned out to be quite—well, not exactly the best, but at least according to the students who returned to their hideout that afternoon the Gryffindor had won the match again. Ron lay sprawled across the couch, his body draped halfway over it. He imagined Pansy getting emotional again for misinterpreting her own predicament.

The students inside were incredibly noisy, while Ron simply stared at the wall of the room. It wasn't quite like the other classrooms; it was small, but Ron had made it feel more spacious for everyone, just in case.

Ron then noticed two figures entering with apparent excitement, his body sank lower against the floor.

"Ron! Ron!" Grenda exclaimed.

"Grenda, lower your voice," Kim responded.

"What? Who?" Ron immediately reclined on his couch with. 

"Move, quick!" She exclaimed, seizing the redhead's arm, causing him to nearly stumble onto the ground.

The trio came to a stop before the wall at the end of the hallway, watching the manifestation of a door. With eager enthusiasm, Grenda motioned for him to open it. Ron and Kim exchanged glances, but the Ravenclaw only tilted his head toward the door, prompting the redhead to grip the handle and swing it open.

The sight before him almost compelled him to swing the door closed again. Dean stood before him waving the advertisement with Hermione behind him, wearing a solemn expression, but when she caught sight of Ron, who had opened the door, their faces transformed into expressions of thunderstruck.

"I sort of spilled the beans about you," Dean admitted, scratching his neck apologetically. "My bad.”

Ron's jaw hung slack, feeling the sting of betrayal from a friend for the third time! He wasn't prepared for this. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, as he frantically looked for words to say. "I-I-I–”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then tears started streaming from her eyes. "You!" she began, and for a moment, Ron thought he was about to be punched. But then, unexpectedly, her arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. "You idiot! You, you–"

“Hermione, I–”

"No!" Her voice rose in indignation as she delivered a firm smack to his shoulder. "Absolutely not!" Another smack. "How could you even consider such a thing? I've had to contend with your absurdity! You had no idea, none at all!” Ron held Hermione as she cried into his arms, only then realizing that Dean had already been ushered inside by the two.

"Does Harry know you're hiding in there?" She asked, her voice strained by crying so much. 

"No," Ron responded. "Does he know I'm here?"

"Yes, he does," Hermione confirmed, wiping at the tears pooling in her swollen eyes. She let out a sniff before adding, "Actually, he brought it up to me. He even thought he might be experiencing hallucinations, but he kept insisting that your presence felt real to him.”

"Oh," Ron said, fidgeting, his cheeks flushing slightly. "W-what did you say?"

"Well, I don't entirely believe him that time, but Dean caught me waiting for Harry outside our dormitory, and he sort of informed me about you and that advertisement of yours, and Ron—”

"No," Ron declared, his arms folded tightly across his chest with a frown, knowing the direction this conversation is heading. "Nope—"

"I'm not deeming your plan as ridiculous, Ron; I'm emphasizing its impracticality! How and why are you—what—”

"It's going to be a long explanation–"

"How could you possibly—"

"Look. I'll explain later–”

The only method Ron could conceive to stop Hermione's relentless critique of his plan's impracticality, whatever is that– was by pushing her toward the door and pulling her into the room. Maybe in doing so, Hermione might understand how serious Ron was with all of this.