Dark Marks, Orders, and Aurors

Chapter 2 - Accusations, history, and relationships.

Ron Weasley arrived at Hogwarts, his freckled face looking particularly worn, as heavy bags reflected the long hours he"d been working. His ears almost as fiery as his hair; he looked nothing short of furious, even more so reflected as he took long purposeful steps. This look of fury, mixed with another emotion was etched on his face, as with clenched teeth, his eye"s glittered with fresh tears that threatened to fall. Walking the route he knew so well, along the twisted, maze-like, corridors, and up a flight of stairs -careful to avoid the third from last step- past a picture of an old witch (who looked remarkably like a hag he met earlier that day) who watched him suspiciously with hawk-like-eye"s from her gold frame, he passed a last suit of arms, and stopped in front of a gargoyle.

"Westminster," he choked out, straightening his clothes.

The password was taken from Muggle language, and Ron was sure more Wizards were familiar with gobbledygook then they were with regular Muggle words. It was brilliant. A Wizard that didn"t already know the password would never be able to guess it. Only Hermione would choose a password like that. The gargoyle opened up before him, and, into view came a huge, oak door so massive, he seriously doubted even one of his brothers explosives could break it open. Below a huge gold knocker, was the Hogwarts coat of arms, with one of the four house animals in each of the corners: representing Gryffindor, was a lion; Hufflepuff, a badger; Ravenclaw, a raven; and representing Slytherin, a snake. Ron for the briefest second, thought the Gryffindor lion looked slightly bigger then the rest. Bigger, or the had the slightest sliver of extra shine, but he dismissed the thought out of hands; this was Hermione he was talking (or thinking) about. Hermione may have been in Gryffindor whilst at Hogwarts herself, but she wasn"t the kind to show favouritism despite this. There was no way she ever would; it just wasn"t her... but still!

Making his way to the door, he paused just before he had reached it, to gather up enough courage to go in. Coughing lightly to clear his throat, he checked his clothes one last time and closing his eye"s muttered, "Now or never."

Pushing the door open, it seemed almost weightless in his grip; how something so immense could move so freely, even with magic, he just didn"t know (Perhaps the hinges were just well oiled). As the door opened wider, and wider, he could see more and more of room. Candles cast slivers of sunset-red light on his purple cloak, as shadows danced in tune to the flickering candles. The circular room was surrounded with dozens of pictures of dosing past head teachers; one picture of a balding man at the very back, was snoring loudly as a bead of drool hung from the side of his mouth; another picture of a thin stern looking woman with grey hair, was talking in her sleep to a dragon named Alfy. The poor creature was receiving a fragmented lecture on why he shouldn"t breath on fireworks during term time. In the very middle of the room stood a large desk. It was magnificent, as large as he had ever seen before, and Ron knew immediately that if he were the remotest bit interested in desks, this would be his most prized possession. It was crafted in solid oak, with trimmings of gold running up the edges and sides. Small gems and jewels were immaculately, and tastefully woven into the design, and the curve of the wood was so as to match perfectly the curve of the room. Piles of papers sat in neat piles next to quills and bottles of ink on it"s top, but other then these it was completely bare. Ron could imagine Hermione to afraid of scratching it to actually use it. He could imagine, fifty years from now, the desk still sitting in mint condition, perfectly preserved and unused. Upon the wall, just above the desk, a magnificent silver mirror hung, along the glimmering frame were etched tiny pictures of wizards, and witches, and dragons. In each the four corners perched a large grinning cherub: one of which was flattening it"s featured wings; whilst another (In the bottom right hand corner) was talking quietly to a wizard about dragon slaying - the small figure was nodding enthusiastically as he crouched behind a rock, hiding from the Chinese fireball dragon that prowled the frame. Next to the mirror, a circle of shelves that ran the room, seated countless books (which were no doubt in alphabetical order). So many titles were placed around the room, it could quite possibly function as a library as well as an office. At the very end of one shelf, when - miraculously - there were no more books left to fill the space (though there was a large chest of draws, which no doubt hid yet more titles), was a picture of Hermione, Harry, Ginny and himself that had been taken years before, when Harry, Hermione and himself were in their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Ginny in her sixth.

"What time do you call this?" came an amused voice from behind him. A chuckle escaped Hermione"s lips as Ron nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Your owl said you"d be here 10 minutes ago," she added.

Ron turned, and saw the warm face of his best friend, Hermione. Her bushy brown hair was still most prominent (and always would be) - though Ron guessed, next to his own, vivid red hair, it couldn"t look quite so evident - and her face was as warm, yet almost paradoxically strict as ever.

"Hermione," he greeted as he gained control of his madly pumping heart "You shouldn"t sneak up on people like that."

"Then people should arrive when they say they"re going to arrive. Then I won"t have to go looking for them, wondering whether they"ve got lost somewhere."

"It was five minutes," argued Ron. "And as if I would get lost here."

"Well, it has been quite a while since you"ve been here," said Hermione thoughtfully.

Then without thinking, Ron flung his arms around Hermione, pulling her into a hug, he spoke into her shoulder, "Good to see you again, Herm."

"You too," said Hermione warmly.

She was hugging Ron as hard as he hugged her, which by then resembled two hugging trolls; in mating season no less. Each pulled the other closer, as if they were afraid this was the last time they would see each other.

"It"s been too long," said the brown haired woman.

"Six months," Ron recited offhand as they pulled away. Shaking his head at the length, he said, "Too damn long."

Then, with a grin, he forced himself to push the current events to the back of his mind, and asked, "So, how you been?"

"Oh fine," said Hermione briskly, walking over to her desk, and tapping it with her wand. Immediately, a small silver machine popped up from a hidden trap-door (Whose seams must have been invisible) on the top of the desk, and beside it perched two cups: one a plane red cup that looked bare and void of magic ... almost like a Muggles cup; the other was most defiantly magic, almost making up for the lack of enchantment the other showed. A tiny picture of a dragon was currently breathing fire onto words which read "Ever - Warm - Cup", and evidently from the smoking desk, the cup stayed very warm indeed.

"Drink!" said Hermione, more as an order then a question. She had already poured Ron a cup of Hundred Herb Tea in the Ever - Warm - Cup, and nigh on thrust it into his outstretched palm, asking how he"d been.

"Thanks," he muttered, flinching slightly as the cup burnt his hand. He had to juggle the cup in order to keep it from scalding him. Perceiving it as a challenge the dragon blew ever more fire onto the words, and the cup became increasingly hotter. "I"ve seen better day"s," he said. Looking at the Muggle cup, which Hermione was sipping from, and now wishing that he had that cup (At least he"d be able to drink from it), he said, "Been shopping in Muggle London again?"

"Oh this," said Hermione, her eye"s falling onto her cup. "No, I got this ages ago. I haven"t had time to do much shopping lately, not even for every day things, as I"m sure neither have you."

"Really? That bad," said Ron sympathetically, trying to take another sip from his drink. But sure enough, a fresh wave of steam came roaring from the cup. "Yeah, I know how that feels, working 24 hours a day. Things are especially bad at the Ministry now that ... you-know-who"s gaining power again."

Hermione nodded in agreement, and in a quite, regretful tone added, "The day we all stopped working together was the day we gave him free reign."

Placing his cup (Which was still scalding hot) - and feeling quite relieved about doing so - atop the table, he gave a nod of agreement, replying thoughtfully, "Cornelius was foolish to think the Ministry could stop You-Know-Who without Dumbledore and his supporters; without the resistance."

"So, what news do you bring from the ministry?" Hermione asked, moving Ron"s cup onto a cosy, then added, "You"ve come about the Dark Mark that was sighted over Hogsmead!"

Flinching slightly as she mentioned the Mark, and not bothering to wait for an answer from Ron (She really would rather not know), Hermione busied herself re-arranging her desk (despite it"s already immaculate appearance). She somehow managed to find that the papers were not all exactly three inches from the edge.

"Yes. It"s the second one this week," said Ron, slightly flustered - his ear tips going noticeably red - as Hermione continued to move things about busily; doing anything that would distract her from the harsh truth.

"Indeed," said Hermione, now angrily flicking through a book entitled "The 10 uses of toad skin" (Which didn"t look like a good read in the least, even for Hermione.) in a futile attempt to forget the memory of the earlier weeks loss; when death eaters had killed someone Hermione had known, be it not very well. The victim had been more of a friend - team-mate would be a better word - of Harry"s, at Hogwarts; Alicia Spinnet.

"Hermione! Please, this is important," said Ron harshly; harsher then he would have liked. Nonetheless, it had the desired effect. The brown haired woman now looked up to make eye contact with Ron, who, seeing the tears that mirrored his own, forming in her eye"s, suddenly found his shoes extra interesting. Interesting enough to warrant a second glance and then a third until...

"Who was it this time?" said Hermione standing the other side of her desk, but still flicking through the book, even if she was no longer looking at the pages.

"You might want to sit down," said Ron, his act of care going unnoticed as Hermione stood defiant.

"Just tell me who it was," snapped Hermione.

"It was ... It was the Longbottom"s," Ron stuttered. "They-They never stood a chance ... Retaliation for us catching Mark Blake and Andrew Thompson last week."

Hermione immediately collapsed into her chair, choking down a strangled sob. Ron found the desire to go over and comfort her, to hug her, almost too much.

"Poor Neville," said Hermione from behind glazed eye"s, and then with a reflective disbelieving tone said, "I would never have though Mark Blake."

Pausing, Hermione said, "Didn"t Mark Blake go to the Ministry Headquarters last month?"

"Yeah," said Ron, not seeing what Hermione was hinting at.

"Then surely, if he was a Death Eater, he would have been caught by the sensors. The place the Dark Mark was should have hurt like crazy the moment he entered the building."

"He didn"t have a Dark Mark. You-know-who must have realised we have ways of detecting it now."

"Just goes to show you; you really can"t trust anyone anymore. No one you don"t know well," said Hermione.

"And even those you do know well," Ron spat, as if his current thought were poison.

Seeing his disdain at this line of conversation, Hermione asked hopefully, "Did you catch who ... killed Neville?"

"Gone before we got there," said Ron, suddenly looking ashamed that the Ministry hadn"t caught those responsible. Picking up a book himself; one that was on a shelf to the left of him.

Reading the title out loud ("A complete biography of the Dark Arts book 1" by Hermione Grangar) he grinned slightly as Hermione watched him from it"s cover, her eye"s narrowed in a look of concentration, wand firmly grasped in her right hand as a worse-for-wear looking Ogar lay unconscious on the floor.

"Finished the next one?" said Ron, the book still in his hand.

"Not yet," said Hermione. "There are a few things I need to do before book twelve is finished. But I"m getting there."

"I lost my copy of this," said Ron with a poker face, waving the book wildly.

"Liar," challenged Hermione, "you threw it out."

Ron suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights, spluttering wildly he tried to justify himself. "I didn"t ... Well, I did, but ... and then ... I was angry, and, the break up and everything ...."

Letting him sweat a while, as he spat out fragments of justifications, Hermione finally let him off the hook.

"Don"t worry, I threw some stuff of yours out as well." she said, counting each item down on her fingers, "That red dress-robe you brought me. You know, the one you spent two weeks trying to find; that mood-mirror you got because it perfectly matched the decor; and don"t get me started on how many pictures of you I threw away."

"Curse anything?" said Ron, with a grin.

"I think I cursed that colour-change bear you gave me for our anniversary. It"s now the nicest shade of green, with two horns and countless purple spots dotted across it"s face ... I"ve renamed him Ron. And you?" said Hermione nonchalantly , as if they were discussing what to buy for dinner that night, or what to do at the weekend, rather then their unpleasant break-up.

"Oh ... only everything of yours that I didn"t throw out, break, or otherwise destroy," said Ron. "I was just as childish as you about the matter."

"Good!" finished Hermione, with an evil grin. "Oh, and don"t worry about the book; I"ll send you the complete series. Hardback version."

"Marvellous," said Ron sarcastically under his breath. "Just what I wanted."

With matching awkward grins, the two set about catching up with everything that had happened over the past six months; since the last time they had seen each other. Hermione explaining exactly how she had time to write her eleventh book, whilst working as a link from the Ministry to the Resistance, and all the while acting as the head master of Hogwarts. Then she told Ron everything important that had happened to the school recently, and, at Hogwarts a lot can happen in the six months since they"d seen each other. Ron, over lunch, talked Hermione through his trip across Europe to some of the other Ministry"s headquarters step by step, including the attack by a group of hungry vampires in Transylvania - which Hermione made a mental note to write about; vampires being one of the few Dark Creatures she hadn"t devoted chapters of her time to. The conversations began to grow dry as each avoided the main topics and issues that caused the conversations to grow awkward every few minutes whenever their names were mentioned in the same sentence, together.

"I miss you," said Ron out of the blue, hastily swallowing his sandwich, and watching his three quarter empty cup of Hundred Herb Tea (Though he still hadn"t drunk one sip, it was nearly almost empty through evaporation). If he blushed in the least, it went unnoticed; perhaps his red hair swamped any blushing.

Hermione on the other hand almost glowed with colour. Knocking her cup over, the china smashed into a hundred pieces, spilling Hundred Herb Tea all over the desk. She leapt up to clear the mess, and, still looking away, coughed out what sounded like, "I miss you too."

Both stood rooted to the spot for a moment, each unsure of what to do, until Ron opened his mouth

to say something. The words it seemed just wouldn"t come out, and instead, he just gapped like a fish out of water. Trying again, he finally got the words out. Although Hermione suspected these weren"t the original words he had struggled to get out beforehand; which Hermione would much rather have heard.

"When are you seeing Dumbledore next?" said Ron darkly, as he backed out off asking Hermione out; something else played across his mind.

"Tomorrow afternoon," said Hermione calmly. "What is it?"

"We think someone in the Ministry is going to contact the Order," said Ron, turning pale. Then seemingly reading Hermione"s thoughts said, "It doesn"t matter how I know, I just do."

Shaking her head, Hermione walked across the room to a cabinet, and then back again, in a slow pace.

"Dumbledore won"t like it, and neither do I," she said darkly. "Contacting the order of Auror! We want to limit the number of deaths, not double them. Haven"t you tried to stop whoever it is summoning them?"

"So your plan is to let Voldemort keep gaining power then is it?" said Ron, with more then an edge of sarcasm. His resolve seemed to fade though as soon as he said it. "I don"t like it either Hermione. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Harry"s the only person that may be able to stop this."

"He"s already wanted by Voldemort and I take it, Cornelius still wants him?" Receiving a nod from Ron, Hermione continued, "If the Dementors got him - from either side - he"d be killed on the spot."

An amused chuckle, that still spoke volumes of his anger escaped Ron"s lips. His current thoughts grew darker, with suppressed rage, Ron said, "As if the Dementors would slow Harry down. If he can walk into a building full of good wizards, on my information, and kill three of them, and then get out without a scratch, I don"t think a few Dementors will do anything. It"s only the rest of us that are affected by it."

"I"ll tell Dumbledore then," said Hermione stiffly, watching as Ron clenched and unclenched his fist with fiery rage. As far as Hermione was concerned, steam might as well be coming from Ron"s ears.

With a sneer Ron said, "Oh just one more thing, Hermione. Lucius Malfoy"s one of the three; you might want to tell Draco not to expect his dad to be walking much longer ... Then again, best not go telling him anything, he is a Death Eater after all."

Almost as soon as he had said it, Ron regretted it. But like so often with Hermione, he spoke before he thought, and couldn"t back down now.

"You really should cut him some slack, Ron," snapped Hermione, standing abruptly up. Shaking with anger. "He"s risking his neck acting as an inside man!"

"Whatever," said Ron flippantly, turning to leave.

"No, not "whatever"," Hermione shouted furiously. "It"s bad enough that you accused me of being a death eater ...."

"Accused him," Ron cut in. Ron like Hermione was now shaking with anger. "I accused him of being a Death Eater, because he IS! There is no denying it. HE - IS - A - DEATH - EATER. I never once accused you. But every time, you have to twist it around don"t you Herm?"

"Then you accused me of conspiring with Death Eaters then," retorted Hermione. "Nice to know you trusted me when we were dating, Ron."

With each word that was said, the situation flew further out of hand. The tones becoming more and more viscous, more and more angry. More emotion portrayed by both, more venom. Each answer became more of an insult then the previous. Both could feel it, but neither one could stop it. They were too much alike; both too stubborn, to stop it.

"It"s not that I don"t trust you. I don"t trust Death Eaters," said Ron. "Like Draco Malfoy."

"You went to the Ministry, the moment you saw me talking with Draco," said Hermione venomously, almost shouting. Glancing at the door, just to see it was closed - after all it wouldn"t do to have the headmistress arguing like this - she raised her voice another notch. "You didn"t trust my judgement in the matter. You just went right off with your Ministry stature, and told everyone how you saw poor, easily mislead Hermione Granger - teacher at Hogwarts - talking with a known Death Eater."

"I DIDN"T TELL THE REPORTERS," shouted Ron, through gritted teeth. "I wouldn"t do that. Besides, it"s not the Ministry"s policy to even talk to them concerning anything to do with Voldemort."

"Oh, and of course, you"d never break the Ministry"s policy"s" said Hermione viciously. Inside her mind screamed not to carry on, just to leave it there, and that it wasn"t worth it. But she wasn"t listening. She was too carried away. "Because I"m sure telling someone how to get into the Ministry headquarters, and where everyone would be, isn"t against the policy"s."

"You," Ron said, waving a threatening finger at Hermione. His voice was slow and ragged as he stifled down his anger. "I can"t believe you would bring that up. I can"t believe you would throw that in my face."

"What, like bringing Draco up," said Hermione harshly. "No, that"s all right! It"s all right for you to do it, isn"t it Ron? Because you"re never to blame are you Ron, with your smug, sarcastic jibs."

"Yeah, well ... can I keep this?" Ron shouted.

"Why?" shouted Hermione suspiciously.

"Because I want to throw it out my window," shouted Ron.

"Fine!" shouted Hermione.

And with that, both turned their backs, and Ron with strides as long as purposeful as when he came in, left. Not once looking back. If he had, he would have seen Hermione wipe away the tears left by the confrontation. His anger took him all the way from the school, until his own tears threatened to escape. Standing dazed, and confused, he didn"t see Hagrid (as almost impossible as that is) until he bumped into him.

End Chapter 1 - Accusations, History and Relationships.