Full Circle

Chapter 14 - The Trio Divided

His boots made squishing sounds as he trudged through the melting piles of snow on the cobblestone streets. With one hand, he pulled the fabric of his cape closer to his body, the other hand was shoved into his pocket for warmth. In his haste, it hadn't occurred to him to put on gloves. Few shops still had their lights on this late at night, so it was easy to spot his destination - that and the bleeding pig's head etched on the wooden sign swinging above the doorway. He was especially glad to have a substantial amount of facial hair at the moment because it gave him a more mature, weathered look; not the clean cut face of a seventeen year old student of Hogwarts.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised by the somewhat cleaner appearance of the place, but the ancient growling faces of the establishment's few clientele confirmed that it was no more inviting. But then again, Ron Weasley wasn't at the Hogshead Tavern for the atmosphere. Saddling up to the sagging bar, he focused his attention on the bartender - a new guy with a squat build and shiny balding head - who was preoccupied with emptying a recent shipment of pilsner glasses.

"Waddya want?" He grumbled to his customer.

In a voice that was strangely not his own, Ron replied "What do you recommend for a man who's just been stabbed in the back by his former best friends?"

The bartender coughed and smiled, revealing the blackened windows created by his missing teeth. "Sounds like you need a Flaming Dragon's Breath." Without another word, the man began to mix the contents of several different bottles into a martini shaker, murmured a few phrases as he stirred the concoction before pouring it into a tall glass and handing it to Ron. "This should fuel the fire for ya."

Puffs of smoke rose from the bright green liquid as if a miniscule Baby Norbert was hiding at the bottom of the cup. He hesitated for a moment before figuring - what the hell, why not? - and took a large gulp. It burned going down and made his eyes tear, but he was proud of himself for not spitting in back up.

"Hot, eh?" The man grinned before settling back to his work. Ron removed the black hood of his cape to reveal his bright ginger hair and took another sip of the alcohol. He had to admit it was a little easier to swallow this time.

In the blink of an eye, a cardboard box of Magic Strikes cigarettes appeared in front of his face.

"Care for a cigarette?" asked the stranger who was now sitting at the barstool beside him.

"Um...I don't really smoke..." Ron answered. The young man ran his fingers through his curly blond hair before removing one and shoving the box into his robe pocket.

"Suit yourself," he smirked and placed the cigarette between his lips. Lighting it with the tip of his wand, he breathed deeply and exhaled a whisper of purplish gas. "I don't normally smoke either, but after the day I've had..." He looked up at Ron and nodded. "And I'm assuming by the angry glare that your day has also been less than perfect."

"Is it that obvious?" Ron raised the glass to his mouth again.

The stranger took another deep breath of his cigarette. "Frankly I was wondering how exactly does the knife feel?"

Ron raised his eyebrows and squinted at the young man. "What knife?"

"The one twisted in your back, mate. The one you mentioned when you first walked in here."

With the alcohol beginning to warm his insides and take the edge of his anger, Ron felt no reason to hold back. "Feels like shit. Half of me wants to beat someone senseless. The other half..." His voice trailed off. "Why do you care, anyway?"

His companion recoiled in offense. "Listen, sport. You wouldn't come into a seedy place like this and announce your personal troubles unless you were looking for a listening ear." Ron could hear bartender snicker faintly from the stock room. "See, even Louie here agrees with me. Hey, is it possible for you to whip me up one of these Flaming Dragon's Breaths?" He called out.

"Just out of curiosity, what brings you to Hogshead in the middle of the night?" Ron asked the young man.

"To avoid running into people I know. I belong to an organization that has their executive board meetings on Thursday evenings. Let's just say some very bitter words were exchanged, and I have no desire to run into any of them just yet. They're probably all at The Three Broomsticks inappropriately talking about tonight's events as we speak. Stupid gits," he muttered as Louie placed the drink in front of him.

The two boys sat quietly for a few minutes listening to an argument breaking out between three shady individuals who were playing card games in the corner. The tall lanky man with stringy hair ended the game by calling a portly older wizard "a cheat" and poured a glass of firewhiskey on his robe.

"Fabulous!" The blond whispered to Ron. "It's amazing to think heathens like that even still exist." Ron nodded, not knowing how to respond. His eyelids started to pull down like loose window shades as the booze continued to take effect.

Changing the subject, he asked "So, what is this organization are you in?"

The stranger returned his attention to Ron. He eyed him up for a moment as if debating whether he could trust him with such an important secret. Then he glanced quickly around before leaning into Ron and asking "Do you really want to know?" The smile on his face was somewhat frightening.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, Ron nodded in response. Quickly his companion put his arm around his shoulder and guided him away from the bar to an isolated table in the corner of the tavern. The young man sat with his back to the wall, his eyes darted around the room, and his long fingers tapped tensely on the table. After a couple of moments, he seemed satisfied that no one was listening and said "By the way, the name is Cordella. Adam Cordella."

"Ron Weasley," his friend replied.

Adam's face gleamed with admiration. "Well, well. This is an honor then. I've heard nothing but great things about the Weasley family."

Ron threw him a sideways glare and hiccupped slightly. "Are you sure you know what you're talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" Adam's expression was wide eyed with sincerity. "You are fortunate enough to be able to trace a pureblood heritage back over a thousand years! There are only twenty-four families in all of Britain who can rightly claim that fact. Two of family members in the Ministry of Magic, one brother working with dragons in Romania and another is a manager at Gringotts. Quidditch Captains, Prefects and School Heads - even those twin brothers are yours are famous in their own way. In fact, based on what members in your family have accomplished, I think you'd be a perfect candidate for my organization."

"And this would be what...exactly?" Ron propped his surprisingly heavy head on his hand.

"The Knights of Sauron."

"The whose of whatsits?"

Adam grinned at his drinking partner. "It is a secret brotherhood of wizards, a fraternity of sorts, which bonds together the boldest and brightest magical folk in Britain. We initiate only the crème de la crème, young men of with a true promise of success. Most of the greatest men you know are probably members of this group."

"Well, if it's such a secret society, then how come you're telling me about it," Ron slurred.

"I would only mention it to someone if I felt that they might be worthy of becoming a knight."

The processes of Ron's brainere slowing to a snail crawl. It was obvious that his drink had packed a powerful punch, but Adam motioned for Louie to bring over another round.

"Listen, I don't want to get your hopes up, pal. I'm not sure what you've heard about Ron Weasley, but rest assured - it's not that great."

"Have you ever been a house prefect?"

"Yes, for two years. Probably could have been Head Boy, but they ended up giving it to some prat who had never even been a prefect.

"Certainly a mistake, I'm sure." He quickly stamped out what remained of his cigarette and thanked Louie for the new drinks. "Well, have you ever played Quidditch?"

"I'm the Keeper for Gryffindor Team and as of this year....Captain. But even that was a hand-me-down honor. It passed along to me when the former captain was too busy having shaggin my ex-girlfriend to keep up with his duties." The anger that had begun to subside during Ron's walk through the crisp winter air was now coming back with a vengeance.

"Wow, this guy sounds like a real creep. Who is he?"

"He's the same guy who was granted Head Boy positioned before being whisked off to London to go into hiding. Later he comes back and complains to me that no one treats him like an adult...and do you want to know why? Because Harry Potter is a big fucking baby! He's not at great as everybody thinks he is. Just lucky. Pure dumb luck." He pauses for a moment to take another swig. "And all of these people bend over backwards to make sure he's safe - Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. But still he is so ungrateful! Always bitching and moaning."

"Hmm..." Adam replied. "So, you are friends with the illustrious Harry Potter. It is interesting to know that the Boy-Who-Lived is actually a selfish little twit that doesn't even begin to deserve all of the attention he gets."

"That about sums it up, though I definitely wouldn't refer to him as a friend of mine any longer. Frankly if I ever set eyes on that punk again, I'm going to beat the crap out of him." Ron finished his second drink and plunked the glass onto the table.

Adam pulled two new cigarettes out of his box and handed one to Ron, who did not refuse. After lighting both of them, Adam turned to his companion (who was gasping slightly from the smoke) and said, "You know...I see a great deal of potential in you. A perfect blend of passion and determination. Would you be interested in meeting some of my colleagues tonight? Even though many harsh words were spoken at tonight's meeting, I'm sure once I arrive with a new candidate - all will be forgotten." His eyes twinkled as he spoke - like he was waving a large juicy worm in front of an unsuspecting fish.

Opportunity is knocking, Ron Weasley. Are you going to answer?

"Harry!" She opened her mouth to scream into the silence of the hospital ward and yet for some reason no words would come out. Hermione sat straight up in her bed and looked around the room for evidence that someone was there. The only thing she saw was Ginny, curled up in the cot next to hers, fast asleep. The moon cast a ray of light onto Ginny's already pale face, her lips parted and her eyes closed, oblivious that her friend was awake.

The dream she had just woken from had been vivid and most likely manipulated by the relaxing potions she had taken. Wearing a flowing white night gown, Hermione had been walking barefoot through the moist grass in front of a majestic yet unfamiliar manor house. It had been night and the sky had been pitch black and starless. She remembered walking along a solitary stone path and taking three precariously large steps closer to the house before stopping dead in her tracks. Slithering across the trail was a green garden snake, being followed by a large fluffy brown rabbit.

Hermione was intrigued by the scene and leaned forward for a closer look, when suddenly the snake whipped around and sunk its fangs into rabbit's fur. For a few moments there was a struggle, but eventually the victim fell lifeless onto the ground and reptile was triumphant. She panicked at the sight of the gushing blood and hopped over the body, running quickly towards the entrance of the house.

She found the heavy oak door slightly ajar and once she had pushed herself safely inside, she slammed it shut and pressed her back against it, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was pulsing rapidly against her chest, when up the winding staircase Hermione heard a desperate scream. Like a naïve leading actress in B rated muggle horror film and completely divergent from her normal way of thinking, she felt compelled to climb the steps to discover the source.

The scene that greeted Hermione at the top of the staircase left her utterly speechless. At first she could only see the form of a man in a black robe leaning over the edge of a four poster bed while long pale legs flailed on either side. It took a moment to truly absorb the brutal sexual act that was taking place before her. But when Hermione turned to her right and saw Harry...

He writhed against the floral pattern of the aging wallpaper, his dark hair matted with sweat, his face clenched in pain. Hermione gasped for breath watching her best friend trapped in this unreal torture. What was the invisible force that was holding Harry down? Could it be the work of Voldemort?

It was as if her innermost thoughts were spoken aloud when the rapist glared over his shoulder at Hermione. A faint red glow emerged from beneath the brown color of his eyes as he watched her hungrily. He then turned back to his prey, grunted angrily and pushed himself off of his wife.

How did I know this was his wife? Hermione asked herself as he approached her.

In a slippery voice the monster replied, "Because we are all connected now."

At that same moment, Harry slid down the wall and crumbled to the floor.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed and sat straight up in her hospital bed. It had all been just a dream. Haunting and real - and yet still a figment of her imagination. Ginny shifted positions in her sleep, so that all Hermione could see was her red hair swirling on the white linen pillowcase.

What a good friend she had been, looking out for me these last few months, she thought as she listened to her shallow breathing. Hermione had never really had a female friend until just recently. Before she came to Hogwarts, Hermione didn't have any friends at all. A memory crystallized of her afternoons spent reading books on the steps of her muggle elementary school, while other kids played together on the playground. Other girls played jump rope and hopscotch, traded stickers and berry flavored lip gloss, and whispered about Hermione behind her back.

In the world of Sarah's and Ashley's - a girl named Hermione stood out like a sore thumb. She was a gangly mess of knees and elbows and frizzy hair and whenever she worked up the courage to speak to her classmates, it was always the wrong thing to say. But when she received her letter to Hogwarts - Hermione got the opportunity to start all over with a new group of people....people she had apparently belonged with since the start.

Was it wrong for her to want to best student in her class? To read textbooks over the summer and come to class knowing the answer to every question? Sure people hated her at first for being a geek and a kiss up, but eventually....

Tears began to form in her eyes as she thought about her two best friends. Dozens of scenes from the last seven years played out in her mind, chronologically from the very beginning and leading up to this past Christmas morning. No matter where she was - at her parent's house, the Burrow, 12 Grimmauld Place, and the half a dozen countries she had visited on holiday - nothing felt like home as much as the Gryffindor common room with her friends. At first it had just been the three of them, but now the circle had opened to include Ginny.

Hermione had not realized at first, how much she and Ginny shared. Preferring the company of males, they were both once awkward ducklings with extraordinary gifts trying to do whatever possible to me noticed by the world around them. Over time, the two young ladies started to confide in each other in a way they had never done with another female. Ginny had been fully aware of what no one else had even bothered to notice and it was at this time in her life, that Hermione was going to need a girlfriend more than ever.

She climbed out of bed and walked over to the window seat, curling her bare feet under the edge of her nightgown. While it did not upset Hermione to think about how alone she had been for the last five months, it was a stab in the heart to think about spending the next four months in isolation from the boys she had grown to love.

Hermione knew they were both out there somewhere - alone with their own thoughts just as she was now. Ron was angry and rightly so. She and Harry had betrayed his confidence and then kept him in the dark about it. And while she was worried about Ron, who was storming about in his own hurt and fury, it was Harry and his obliviousness that made her most anxious.

Ginny thinks I don't want to tell Harry the truth? Hermione wiped the tears from eyes with the back of her hand. Harry has so many inner demons in his soul that he hasn't even begun to figure out. This is the last thing he needs. She dug her teeth in her fist in order to keep from sobbing. And yet, I'm beginning to realize that Harry is the thing I need the most.

As quietly as she could, Hermione climbed back into bed and tried to fall asleep again. Perhaps in her dreams...she could save him.