Scattered

Ron felt as if he was running through water. His legs moved and his arms swung; his breath panted as he raced toward the dais, toward Harry, toward Voldemort. He poured all of his energy into getting there, now, before Voldemort could strike, and yet each step was like an eternity of too late, too late.

"Pro...Protego," he heard Harry manage to say weakly. A thin wisp of a shield floated in the air before him, but even Ron could see that it wouldn't be enough to do more than slow Voldemort down.

Still, maybe enough... if I can get there...

"Stop!"

It was Ginny. He ignored her, pushing on.

"I said stop."

He stumbled before he could even register the bright flash of a curse and the sensation of his legs locking together. Tumbling to the floor, he struggled to free himself, his heart pounding.

"Ron."

He looked up. Ginny was standing above him, her wand in hand. He felt a wash of desperation and defeat come over him; he knew from past, far more playful experience that he'd never break out of her curse, not on his own. "Ginny, damn it! I've got to help Harry!"

"No."

She stood over him, the hood of her cloak thrown back, her flame-colored hair darkened to deep auburn, in disguise. Her skin was pale and her eyes bright; she held her wand in her hand like an extension of her own innate power. She stared at him struggling on the floor, her expression unreadable. He barely recognized her.

The sounds of the room -- the chanting, the Death Eaters blasting at the doors, Voldemort's mocking laughter as he taunted Harry through his shield -- dimmed. The stranger who was Ginny stared at him implacably until, slowly, her face shifted, losing its stillness and becoming familiar to him again. Her eyes were sad as she crouched beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"I know you always thought it would be you, big brother," she said quietly. "But it's me."

She rose and walked steadily toward the center of the room. Harry's shield had faded away to nothingness and Voldemort's wand was raised. Ginny kept walking, but even before she reached them, she raised her own wand and said, calmly, "Protego."

A white-hot burst of light came forth from her wand, aimed straight at Harry. As Ron watched, he saw the light cover his friend completely, spreading over him like a blanket. Ginny reached Harry's side and helped him to his unsteady feet, her wand still held aloft, the spell still streaming forth, covering Harry in light.

"I'm not feeling generous today, Potter," Voldemort said, and Ron shuddered at his voice, feeling the evil it contained scrape at his bones. "So there'll be no offers to spare this one's life, not this time. Avada kedavra!"

Ron's heart stopped beating as the jet of sickening green light left Voldemort's wand and struck Ginny. He watched, dying inside, and prayed that Dumbledore had been right.

The curse burned brightly as it struck, just as it had with Bellatrix. This time, though, it slowly dissipated away to mist and then to nothingness, leaving his sister standing, her wand still pointed at Harry and her shield still protecting him. And Voldemort, opposite her, crumbling to the floor, his gaunt form twisted, his face wracked in pain.

"Sorry, Tom," Ginny said calmly. "But you gave me a present when you left, and I finally had a chance to use it."

She lowered her wand, the shield for Harry no longer needed. Voldemort lay gasping for breath, his own wand fallen from his fingers. Ron watched his sister pick it up and snap it in two, tossing the pieces aside. She crouched down beside the fallen Dark Lord and whispered something Ron couldn't hear. When she stood and turned around, her face was clear and pale again.

"Now, Harry," she said, and moved away.

Ron lay frozen in place, his limbs still locked together with his sister's spell. He wished he could stand beside his friend at this moment, lend him whatever strength he needed. For as much as Voldemort deserved to die, as much as he had to die... as much as Harry Potter had every reason to want him to die, Ron knew his friend had never wanted to kill, never wanted to become a murderer. Ron remembered that day in the Shrieking Shack, when he'd stopped Sirius and Remus from doing the same... and he also remembered the pain in Harry's voice, years later, when he talked about how different things might have been if he hadn't stopped them, hadn't given Voldemort back his servant.

There was no way to know, of course, what might have been changed that night, if Harry hadn't stood before them and pleaded with them to stop. One of Voldemort's other followers might have found their lord, Barty Crouch Jr/ would have done it, no doubt, and brought him back to strength. And maybe things would have gone worse, or maybe better. There was no real way to be sure, but Ron knew Harry had regretted that day for years, after Sirius died, and regretted the choice he'd made.

Harry stepped forward. Ron twisted his locked legs together and pushed up, awkwardly, against the floor. He managed to sit up that way and waited, a witness to this moment if nothing else.

"You ruined my life from almost the day I was born," Harry said simply. "And that's probably not enough of a reason to kill you, not really. You've done far worse things. You've tortured and maimed and killed, and you've warped this world into your own twisted playground for too long. And those reasons are enough... but I'd be lying if I said I needed them." He raised his wand. "Avada kedavra," he said, his voice flat and emotionless.

For the third time that day, Ron watched a bolt of green light shoot out from a wand's tip. He watched and waited, holding his breath, expecting something monumental, something extraordinary to happen, as if death itself were not enough in this case. As if the occasion called for something powerful, more powerful than the deadliest curse of them all. This was Voldemort, after all. The Dark Lord. The most evil creature, and the cruel dictator of a world he'd made over in his own image. Ron didn't know what to expect... just that it would be something huge.

It was, though, as simple as any other curse, as simple as the spell that had felled Bellatrix, or Cedric Diggory, or Lily Potter. The green jet struck and life was no more. Voldemort's body stilled, his arms flung out as if in supplication, or in pain.

And at the same moment, Ginny Weasley fell as well.

"GINNY!" Ron screamed. He crawled across the floor, dragging his useless legs behind him. "NOOOOO!!!"

Harry spun around and froze, his wand still raised. He saw Ginny lying in a heap, her hair covering her face, and he dropped to kneel beside her.

"Harry, is she -- Harry, help her!" Ron cried. "Do something! Help me get to her."

His cries and pleas fell on deaf ears. Harry knelt on the cold marble floor and did not move, frozen in shock.

"REMUS!" Ron yelled, desperate.

Still chanting, Remus turned and took in the tableau before him. He nodded and broke off from the others. Taking a few steps away, he aimed his wand at the door he was guarding. "Imperturbis," he shouted, and a barrier shimmered before him, blocking the entranceway. Jamie and Kingsley, one after the other, did the same.

"It won't hold for long," Remus said, his voice hoarse. "We only have a few minutes."

He ran to Ginny, pushing her head back and feeling for a pulse. Jamie followed him, moving to her other side. Harry still did not move.

"I've got to get to her!" Ron shouted, over and over again. "Harry, help me, I've got to get to her."

Kingsley, still sweating and drawn, took Ron by the arm. "Here," he said, trying to help Ron up. He frowned. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Ron said. "I'm fine, Ginny's hurt."

"What happened to your legs?" Kingsley persisted.

"Ginny cursed me. She wouldn't let me stop her." Jamie blocked his view; he couldn't see his sister. "I need to help her."

"Finite Incantatem." Ron barely heard the words, but felt the spell settle over him, and his legs were free once more. "Ron. Ron, listen to me," Kingsley was saying. "She's still alive. She has to be, or her spell would have been broken. Do you get what I'm saying? She's still alive."

Ron scrambled to his feet and launched himself at his sister. He couldn't take his eyes off of her pale, still face.

"What..."

Ron turned at the sound of Harry's voice; he'd nearly forgotten he was there. Harry remained where he'd fallen to his knees. Ron had never seen him look like that.

"What have I done?" Harry whispered, all color drained from his face. He turned his head and found Ron, his eyes pleading for answers. "What are we going to do?"

"We need to get her back," Remus said.

Ron reached for the medallion hanging beneath his robes. He raised it before him and, with his wand, changed the letters. The charm began to glow. "Get her home," he told Remus. The other man looked at him, frowning, and a moment later there was a rush of air. Ginny and Remus began to glow softly.

"Ron-- "

The glow intensified and burst, spreading throughout the room. In a second, it was gone, taking Ginny and Remus with it.

Ron stood and was distantly surprised that his legs were able to hold him. He offered Jamie a hand up and then turned to Harry. "Remus said we don't have much time."

Harry took his hand and stood, but remained silent.

"What now?" Ron asked.

Kingsley shook his head. "There are quite a few Death Eaters out there," he said. "I could see them while we were barricading the room."

Jamie nodded. "About twenty, I saw." He shrugged. "I don't suppose there's any chance they'll come in here, see that their master is dead and give themselves up?"

Ron laughed mirthlessly. He felt as if every muscle in his body was ready to shut down at once. "Not likely." He glanced at Harry. "We're not going to do this all in one go, are we, Harry?" There was no response. "Harry."

"No," Harry said finally.

Kingsley said, "We'd have needed a large force to take out all those Death Eaters. But a smaller team gave us a better shot at Voldemort, and that was the priority."

Harry turned and took several steps toward the fallen shell of what had once been a man on the dais and stood staring down at the remains, his expression blank. Ron watched his friend silently.

"Voldemort was the priority," Harry said finally. He abruptly walked away from the dais and rejoined them, looking as if he'd come back to himself and was in control again. "With him gone, the Death Eaters will scatter like they did before."

"But right now we're outnumbered," Kingsley said. "We need to regroup."

Ron nodded. "Let's--"

"Watch out!" Jamie yelled. He whipped out his wand and pushed past them just as a loud explosion shook the very ground beneath their feet.

Ron spun around and watched, unbelieving, as the entire wall opposite them imploded in a great cloud of dust. He choked and, covering his mouth too late, coughed hard into his hands. Jamie bent over, rubbing furiously at his eyes. Kingsley swept his robe over Harry, protecting him from the dirty cloud.

Several moments passed; nothing could be heard over the echo of the explosion except their own gasps for breath. Ron's ears were still ringing and the dust was still caught in his throat when he realized that they were surrounded.

He stood as tall as he could, his face wet with tears from the smoke and still coughing. His wand was gripped firmly in his hand. "Har... Harry..." He stopped to cough.

Harry pushed free from the robes covering him. Kingsley, Ron saw, was gasping for breath on the floor, while Harry seemed relatively unscathed.

"You had me worried there for a moment, Mr. Potter," Lucius Malfoy said in his silky, cultured tones. "When I didn't see you in the rubble, I thought maybe you'd done yourself in along with the Dark Lord, but thank goodness that's not so."

Ron froze. Malfoy stood before them surrounded by guards in Ministry robes and uniforms, all with their wands pointed at Harry. Ron edged forward cautiously, trying to get closer, to get in between Harry and all those guards, not to mention Malfoy.

Lucius smiled and shook his head; with an imperious snap of his fingers, he directed several guards to turn their wands towards Ron, Remus and Kingsley. "Young Weasley, I believe? I'd hold still if I were you. I want to talk to your fearless leader."

"Stop trying to intimidate us, Malfoy," Harry said firmly. "It's over."

Lucius didn't stop smiling. "Really."

"Yes," Harry told him flatly. "Voldemort's dead. See for yourself." Harry stepped back, gesturing toward the dais.

Lucius, still smiling, swept forward with two guards at his side. He stood over his former master dispassionately, his expression unchanged.

"You've lost," Harry said. "It's over."

"Voldemort is certainly over, Mr. Potter, that I grant you," Lucius replied, looking amused and... it was strange... almost delighted. "But I'm not really sure what you mean by saying I've 'lost', when I've only just now entered the game. Incendio!"

There was a quick flash and Voldemort's body lit up in a burst of flame. It burned hotter than anything Ron had ever seen and then, abruptly, stopped -- and where the Dark Lord had been, a pile of ashes remained. Nothing more.

Ron stared at it, confused. He couldn't make sense of what was happening.

"There now," Lucius said brightly. "That takes care of that rubbish."

Harry's fists were clenched tightly at his sides. "What are you playing at, Malfoy?" he asked, furious. "You can't fool me. That was your lord and master. You've served him and his sick, demented ways for decades now. Are you trying to tell me you're glad he's dead? That you were forced to do his bidding all this time, that you're sadly misunderstood?" He shook his head. "I'm not buying Imperio, you bastard. That's not going to work this time, not with me. You'll answer for your crimes right alongside the others."

"Ah, but what others?" Lucius asked, feigning ignorance. "Do you refer to the Lestranges, perhaps? They're dead, Potter, both of them now, thanks to you. And good riddance," he said, waving negligently at Bellatrix's body. "Raving mad, both of them. Who else? Antonin Dolohov is lying in a pool of his own blood just outside that door; I killed him myself when it looked like he just might manage to break in and break up your festivities. So what others are there, really? Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Rookwood? Any of them? They're sheep, Potter, and so are all of the rest. They'll do as they're told."

"I don't know what you're babbling about, Malfoy," Harry said, "but we've heard about enough."

Ron could see that Harry was as perplexed as he felt. He coughed again, still feeling the dust coat his throat. Jamie knelt down beside Kingsley and murmured something; the Auror was still wheezing for breath.

"My sister-in-law and her husband, Dolohov... they were fanatics," Lucius said. "Blindly following a half-breed megalomaniac who promised them all the violence their sick souls craved. Fools, all of them."

"You followed him," Ron said finally. "You and your son--"

"And how is Miss Granger, Young Weasley?" Lucius interrupted him swiftly, venomously. "Though I'll be asking her that myself just as soon as you tell me where she is." Ron's eyes narrowed. "But there's time and more for such things later. After I announce Voldemort's death." With a flick of his wand, he righted the throne chair and settled into it gracefully. "After I tell the wizarding world, and the Muggle world as well, that we're finally rid of the tyrant who has kept us all in chains, and that a new, glorious era has begun."

Harry snorted. "Oh, so you're one of the good guys now, that's your ploy. You'll say he just forced you to kill innocent witches and wizards and you're terribly sorry? What, will you build an orphanage for Muggle-borns and free the house elves and find a cure for werewolves? Is that your story?"

Lucius laughed. "Don't be silly, Potter." He gestured to several of the guards; they advanced slowly on Harry, tightening the circle around him. "It's about moderation, dear boy. It's about being practical." He crossed his legs and dusted the ash off his boots disdainfully. "Voldemort wanted to kill them all, and so we did. He wanted to torture and destroy and burn, and so we did that as well. But what's the point?" he asked rhetorically. "In the end you've just made a mess, and there's no lower class left to clean it up. I plan on a more balanced regime, where everyone serves their purpose." He stood and walked down the dais steps, slowly approaching Harry. "I may have seemed to be his servant and he, my master, but that is only because a simple child such as you never could have comprehended what it means to be a Malfoy. A Malfoy serves no one, boy. A Malfoy is born to power. It is his birthright. And he will stop at nothing to get it." He stopped just a foot away from Harry and smiled. "Don't you understand? I'm trying to thank you, Potter. You've saved me the unpleasant task of getting rid of that maniac. Now, there's nothing to stop me."

"The people... the wizarding world..." Ron stammered incredulously, unable to remain silent. "They'll stop you. They'll stand up against you."

"They're sheep as well," Lucius said with a negligent wave of his hand. "Even more so. They want comfort and security more than anything. More than anything, young Weasley, and I can give them that."

"That, and a life lived in fear," Harry said. He shook his head. "I won't let it happen."

"There's no prophecy about you and me, Potter," Lucius said. "Your fate means nothing to me. You're no more to me than an idle pest, one that is easily removed." He stepped back and gestured to the guards once more. "Take him away. All of them, separate cells."

The guards surged forward and grabbed Harry. They did the same to Kingsley and advanced on Ron. Jamie sprang up and raised his wand.

"Don't bother trying to Apparate," Lucius said, casually. "We've raised the wards, of course."

For the second time, Ron fumbled for the chain at his neck. He touched the surface of the medallion with the tip of his wand; the guards lunged for his arms and he twisted away, keeping his hands free. They tackled him at the knees and he tumbled to the floor, but as he watched, the letters changed...

The glow began the way it had for Remus and Ginny and intensified swiftly; Ron squeezed his eyes shut but it was no use, the light was so bright it lit up his eyelids. A fierce rush of air seemed to surround him, so strong that he could no longer feel the floor beneath him or the guards holding him in their clutches. He tried to speak and found he couldn't move, not even to open his mouth, not even to scream. Then, abruptly, there was darkness.

His eyes burned. He was afraid to open them and so he concentrated first on his ears -- they were no longer filled with roaring noise. Instead he heard a different kind of wind, quieter, and the sound of waves lapping up against the shore. And voices, nearby. He realized he felt ground beneath him once more and forced his eyes open, quickly discovering he could see quite normally again.

Harry lay panting beside him, his glasses askew and his wand still clutched in his hand. Kingsley and Jamie were on the other side of Harry; Kingsley was talking now and seemed recovered from the dust of the explosion.

Hagrid came forward and lifted Harry to his feet while Doge went to the water's edge, sending his Patronus out to race across the water, disappearing into the mist. McGonagall led an ashen-faced Percy to a chair near the fire. And as Ron watched, Hermione stood and swayed, tears running down her face.

He clambered to his feet and ran the few steps it took him to reach her, wrapping his arms around her and clutching her close. He buried his face in her hair and breathed, deep... once, twice... it felt like the first breath he'd taken since he'd left her that morning. He pulled back and kissed her, gently at first, then fiercely. He felt as though he'd found her all over again, as if he was holding her for the first time. He felt as if he'd asked for a miracle and it had come true.

"Ron," she whispered against his lips, shaking.

"I love you," he said. "I can't believe I didn't tell you I loved you before I left this morning. I said it at the castle but not here on the beach... I knew I had to get back to you if for no other reason than that."

"Ron," she said again, and he pulled back to look at her. She was as white as a sheet, all of the color gone from her cheeks and lips. Her eyes were bloodshot and weary. She trembled again, clutching at him for support.

"What's wrong?" he asked, scared. "Hermione?"

She shook her head weakly. "It's just the spell... bringing you all at once. It was... hard. But I knew I could do it, and that helped." She looked over his shoulder, swaying again. "Is everyone okay? Did all of you... what happened? Remus said... is it true? Did Harry do it?"

"He did," Ron told her, taking her more fully into his arms and leaning her against his chest. "Voldemort's dead. Harry did it."

"I knew he would," Hermione murmured.

"And Ginny? Is she okay? And Tonks?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "They're both back at the castle, and Remus as well. I don't know. We haven't heard anything."

Ron took a deep breath. "And George?" he asked, afraid to voice the words, terrified of the answer.

She leaned back and smiled up at him, a little. "They got him."

Ron pulled her close again, his heart pounding with relief.

"Everyone get ready," Doge said, returning from the shore and waving for them to come forward. "Amos sent the message back. We're to form the circle and start the spell." With a flick of his wand he banished their campfire and chairs, leaving no trace of their presence behind.

Ron bent his knees and scooped Hermione up in his arms, carrying her to where the others stood. Setting her down next to Harry, he took her hand in his and on the other side, Harry did the same. "Almost, love," he said encouragingly.

They began the chant, the Arcesso spell, and soon an orb of light grew in the center of their circle, just as it had before. Ron felt his feet leave the ground and Hermione's fingers squeezing his. He turned to her and she smiled, and then the energy moved through him and he was jolted forward with the rest.

The cold stone floor of the bringing room rose up to meet him as his body slammed down at the conclusion of the spell. It was worse this time, but he struggled up to his elbows and then to a sitting position even before the room stopped spinning.

"All right, Ron?" Harry asked, and Ron focused on his voice as a point of reference. Harry was sitting next to him, he saw, with his arm around Hermione. She still looked exhausted, but no worse than she had before.

"Yeah," Ron said, rubbing at his forehead and trying to shake the last of the dizziness away. "I'm fine, the bringing spell did this to me last time."

His mum came over, swooping down on them and clutching each of them in firm, fierce hugs, each in turn. There were tears flowing down her face and she squeezed them with trembling arms but said nothing, letting go of Harry, finally, and turning away to take Percy in the same embrace.

"Are you alright, son?" his father asked. Ron tried to push himself to his feet and failed; his father shook his head and clasped his shoulder firmly. "Don't get up yet. Give yourself a minute."

"I'm fine, Dad," Ron said. "It's just the spell."

"Harry, Hermione?"

"We're fine as well, Dad," Hermione answered for them both.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron said, feeling anxious. "Dad, is she --"

"She's unconscious," his father said, and Ron felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him. "But Poppy said she's stable otherwise and expects her to wake up soon. Don't worry," he assured all of them.

Hermione smiled in relief and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, whispering to him, "It's okay, Harry." Harry looked away, his expression unreadable.

Ron asked, "And George?"

His father hesitated. "George... is not well. He's... I want you to be prepared for when you see him. He's in bad shape, son," he said, squeezing Ron's shoulder again. "But we're doing everything we can."

"What about Remus and Tonks?" Harry asked. "Did they get back okay? Is she..."

"It's too soon to tell."

Ron swallowed hard. "Can we see them?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure you can, as soon as you're able." His father held up a hand to forestall their protests. "I'm going to get each of you some chocolate. Your mother's making sure Percy has some... Hermione, my dear, you need to get your strength back," he said kindly, and Ron's objections disappeared.

Hermione sat up and took Ron's by one hand and Harry by the other, linking them together. "You came back," she said in a whisper. "All of you."

Harry squeezed her hand and kissed her temple. "Thanks to you."