Ron Weasley and the Green Flame Torch

"Hermione--WHAT?" yelled Ron frantically. "WHAT?"

"Her house has been attacked," said Mrs. Weasley calmly, "but Ron, we musn't panic-"

"MUSN'T PANIC! MUM, ARE YOU BLOODY MAD?"

"Ron, don't swear!" she scolded him, suddenly becoming very frantic. "I need you and Harry to pack your trunks-"

"Not until you tell me what the bloody hell is going on!"

"Ronald Weasley!" yelled Mrs. Weasley. "I swear I will hurt you if you don't stop acting the way you are! I will tell you what is going on once you and Harry pack your trunks. We're going to headquarters!!"

"But-"

Mrs. Weasley threw Ron a warning look.

"Fine," he said, holding up his hands in defense. "Harry's trunk is already ready. He just got here."

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "Well, Harry dear, help Ron with his trunk."

"Mum.."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Weasley looked around Ron's room--which over the summer had become very unorganized--and let out a shrill scream of frustration. "Pack!" she yelled, waving her wand at the cluttered mess. "Honestly...Ron...you've been home for a month and already--"

"MOLLY!!"

"Hurry up! We're traveling by Portkey," Mrs. Weasley said, as Ron and Harry grabbed their trunks. "It's unauthorized, so we're going to have to do this very, very quickly."

"Why aren't we traveling by Floo Powder?" asked Harry as he and Ron followed her into the hallway, dragging their trunks and cages with them.

"Well, erm"-- Mrs. Weasley looked at them apprehensively --"I'll tell you boys when we get to headquarters."

"Mum!"

"Ron, I don't know all the details!" she cried. "Professor Lupin will tell you everything when we get to headquarters."

"Mum--"

"Not now, Ron!!!"

"Are we ready?" asked Mr. Weasley as the three of them walked into the small kitchen. He, Ginny, Fred, and George were all surrounding a silver pot Ron assumed was the Portkey, Fred holding Ginny's trunk.

"Yes." Mrs. Weasley nodded, and motioned for Ron and Harry to join the rest of the Weasleys around the silver pot.

"Alright...touch it."

As soon as Ron reached for the silver pot, he felt the familiar jerking sensation in his navel and not a second later, he was in the entry way of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

The house was just as dreary and sorrowful as when he last left, maybe even more so since Sirius's death. Not a single light was on, and there was a very bad smell in the air, like dead spiders.

Ron shuddered.

"You lot come with me," Mrs. Weasley whispered loudly. "We're going upstairs to put your trunks up. Remember to stay quiet in the hallway."

Ron, Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George all nodded and followed Mrs. Weasley down the hall, past the portrait of Sirius's mum--which Lupin had put a Silencing Spell on--and climbed up the staircase. Ron tried hard not to look at the row of shruken house elf heads. In a sick way, they reminded him of Hermione.

"Same rooms as last year," she informed them, her voice back to its normal volume. "When you're done, come downstairs to the living room and we'll explain everything."

They nodded and Ron followed Harry into the door on the right. He quickly emptied out his trunk and haphazardly threw his clothes into the drawers.

"I'm done," Ron announced, anxious. "Are you? I'm ready to go see what in the bloody hell has happened."

Harry hesitated. "Do--do you think she's alright?"

"Of course she is," said Ron shakily, trying to convince himself of his words. "I mean, this is Hermione we're talking about. She can withstand anything."

Harry gave Ron a thoughtful look. "You're right," he said, nodding while taking his clothes out of his trunk. "You're absolutely right."

Both of them knew that they should expect the worst, but they couldn't bare to think about that. Hermione's house had just been attacked by Death Eaters, and she couldn't use magic against them because she's not old enough. Ron knew his bushy-haired friend was probably in grave danger right now.

"Are you done yet?" Ron was getting agitated.

"Er--yeah." Harry nodded and the two of them went downstairs and into the living room.

Professors Lupin, Dumbledore, and McGonagall were all sitting around on the sofa along with all of the Weasleys (minus Percy), and a very pink-haired Nymphadora Tonks.

"Hiya Harry, Ron," she said, smiling grimly at them as they took their seats on the couch.

"Hello," replied Ron and Harry, looking around at the many people in the living room. "So, what's going on?"

"Well," Dumbledore started, peering at Ron and Harry through his spectacles, "I think we should start from the beginning shouldn't we, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes out of focus.

"I want to know about Hermione!" yelled Ron, standing up.

"Ron, sit down," said Mr. Weasley, glancing at his son sadly. "We'll tell you about Hermione soon--"

"I don't want to know soon! I want to know now!"

"Sit down or you won't get any information at all," warned Mrs. Weasley coldly.

Ron glared at his mother, but sat down all the same.

"Mr. Weasley, as you know, your parents have been going on duty every other night, correct?" Dumbledore said, looking at Ron.

Ron nodded. "I just don't know what they have been doing."

"We've been going to Hermione's house," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Ron, trying to keep calm.

"Ron, please...just listen," Tonks pleaded with him.

He nodded reluctantly and motioned for his mother to continue her story.

"Well, last night Mr. and Mrs. Granger had a business dinner, so I spent the night with Hermione. I was with her for about an hour when we heard a loud bang. I immediately knew what had happened because Dumbledore informed me that hearing a loud bang in a Muggle household was not good. I told Hermione to go upstairs while I went to see what happened. I went outside and there were about ten Death Eaters at the door. I got my wand and disarmed most of them-- think they were the newer Death Eaters who had no idea what they were doing--but I still had a few of them coming after me. I ran into the house to try to lose them, but they followed me, and I kept trying to run away. Then I suddenly remembered Hermione was upstairs and I ran up the stairs to see her, but when I got there--" Mrs. Weasley's voice caught in her throat, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It's okay, Molly," whispered Mr. Weasley in his wife's ear. "You don't have to finish."

"No, no...I'm fine," said Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes. "When I got to Hermione's room, Antonin Dolohov was standing there, smiling. Hermione was at his feet, just lying there...motionless. Dolohov Apparated along with the other Death Eaters, and I went over to Hermione. Her pulse was there, but just barely so. She was so pale and limp...so...lifeless," she finished, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ron couldn't believe it. He leaned foward, and put his head in his hands. How was she? Was she alive? Would she ever be the same? Could she talk? Could she walk? All these questions were zooming through his head, searching for answers. He was angry at Dolohov for cursing Hermione, he was worried she might not live, but most of all he was heartbroken. What if she wasn't okay? What if he never got to see her again? He could just imagine Hermione lying there on the carpeted floors, pale and lifeless, with her bushy hair fanned out around her.

Oh, Hermione, he thought vehemently, please be alright. Please, please...I know we fight and argue, but I don't know what I'd do without you.

"How is she?" asked Harry timidly.

"Dolohov hit her with the same spell he did last year in the Department of Mysteries," said Lupin gravely. "Only this time, he wasn't silenced."

"Which means..."

"She's unconcious," said Charlie. "She's alive, but just barely."

"And her insides are messed up pretty bad as well," said Bill. "Mum told me that Dolohov tampered with her ribs last term, but she had been taking her potion, so her ribs were slowly going back to normal, but Dolohov messed them up again."

"Bloody bastard," muttered Ron angrily. "I'll kill him...I swear I will!"

"Ron!" cried Ginny threateningly. "Hermione wouldn't want you to kill him."

"Yeah, well under the circumstances I'm sure she'd understand--"

"You're not going to kill anyone, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall. "Killing right now isn't the answer."

"Then what is?" asked Ron harshly. "We can't just let Hermione rot, can we?"

"Wait...where is she?" asked Ginny, looking at her mother.

"She's in St. Mungo's," said Mrs. Weasley sadly.

"Can we go see her?" Ginny inquired hopefully.

"Yes. We're going tomorrow."

"Tommorow?!"

"Ron, sit down." This time it was Lupin who spoke. "We all know you're upset about what happened--"

"Upset? Why the bloody hell would I be upset?!?!!?!"

"--we're upset about what happened, too," Lupin continued, ignoring him. "But we can't just march into St. Mungo's and demand to see her right now. One, it's getting late, and two she needs rest. And so do you--"

"Wait," interjected Harry, "what's been going on with Voldemort?"

With all the tension in the room, no one bothered the cringe at the word "Voldemort."

"We don't know," answered Dumbledore. "This was the first piece of activity all summer. The Death Eaters Apparated right after Dolohov cursed Miss Granger...I'm guessing they accomplished their goal. We've been trying to hunt Voldemort down, but we can't find him anywhere."

"I haven't had a dream all summer," said Harry. "My scar hasn't hurt either. It just prickles a lot. I'm getting worried...I feel like he's doing something right under my nose, but I can't figure out what."

"Don't worry, Harry," said Lupin. "We'll find out."

Harry nodded, but said nothing else.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Albus, Minerva?" asked Mrs. Weasley suddenly.

"No," said Dumbledore. "We must get going." He and McGonagall rose from the couch and started walking towards the hallway, but not before he whispered in Ron's ear, "Don't worry, Mr. Weasley...just make sure you stay by Miss Granger and she'll be alright."

Ron merely nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

* * *

"Do you think she'll be alright?" asked Ginny as she, Harry, and Ron lounged around Ron and Harry's room after dinner. "Hermione, I mean."

"I hope she is," said Ron, who was lying down at his bed, staring at the ceiling. "But Charlie said she's unconcious. What if she's in a coma? What if she doesn't wake up before term starts? She'd die if that happened. Oh..." Ron immediately stopped talking when he realised he associated "die" and Hermione in the same sentence. "Well...uh...you know what I mean. She won't be happy."

"Yeah..." Harry trailed off, nodding.

No one said anything for a while.

"It's wierd isn't it?" said Ginny, her voice cutting the silence.

"What is?"

"Well...Hermione just got attacked by Death Eaters. Hermione of all people."

Ron knew what his sister was trying to say. He understood completely. To him, Hermione was a Christ figure, an unbreakable person who could handle just about anything that was thrown at her. But now, she was lying in St. Mungo's weaving between the line seperating life and death, with very slim hopes of living. His best friend was lying on starched sheets, unconcious.

Stop thinking like that, he told himself, this is Hermione. She's not going to die.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I know what you mean, Gin. I just hope she's alright."

There was a soft knock on the door. "Ron, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley softly, peeking her head into their room.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," said Ron, as he continued to stare at the ceiling.

With a click, the door closed and he heard Mrs. Weasley pad to his bed.

"Ron," she said, looking down at her son. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm great, Mum," said Ron sarcastically. "My best friend is almost dead, and here I am in my fluffy bed, as alive as you can get."

There was a pregnant pause. "Ron, she's going to be fine."

"I know." He had spent the last hour convincing himself of that.

"Listen...I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was watching over Hermione."

Ron looked at his mother. He wanted to yell at her, but decided not to seeing as how Mrs. Weasley provided him with food. Instead he asked her, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew you would want to see her," she answered. "And I couldn't let that happen."

"Why not?"

"Ron...listen," said Mrs. Weasley slowly. "You and Hermione are two targets because you're good friends with Harry. Having both of you in a Muggle environment is not good. That just makes you an even easier target. I explained this to Hermione, and she agrees with me, Ron. It was either her or both of you."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said softly, "Why couldn't it just be me?"

Mrs. Weasley stared at him. "Ron..."

"Mum...you don't know Hermione the way I do. It's just...it's weird." Ron struggled with his words. He didn't know exactly how to express his feelings at the moment. "I just don't understand why she has to suffer so much. I would do anything--anything--to be in her place right now."

Mrs. Weasley looked at Ron intently. "I know you would, Ron...but sometimes it doesn't work that way."

"I know," said Ron softly. "And the same goes for you, Harry. I wish I could carry your burden and help you out with this Vol-Voldemort stuff. I hate not being able to help you."

Harry didn't say anything, but nodded.

"I think you boys should get some rest...Ginny...come," said Mrs. Weasley, walking towards the door. Ginny followed her. "Goodnight."

Ron watched as his mother and sister exited the room, and waited until he heard Ginny's door close to speak again.

Crack.

"AAARGH!!!" yelled Ron as Fred and George Apparated on a very important part of his anatomy. "Bloody Hell," he gasped, clutching himself in pain as the twins got off of him. "Can't you two Apparate properly for once??! Just once!!!"

"Sorry," they whispered.

"Shhhh," hissed Harry. "Be quiet for a minute or else your mum'll come back in here."

Fred and George quietly sat down on the floor, as the pain in Ron's...male anatomy...slowly started to subside. He made a mental note to hurt Fred and George the next time they weren't expecting it.

"Arthur..." came Mrs. Weasley in a muffled voice.

Ron looked around, but didn't see his mother anywhere.

"Not now, Molly," said Mr. Weasley in the same muffled voice.

Ron continued to look around him. "What?"

"It's the vent!" whispered Harry urgently.

"The what?" asked Ron and the twins incredulously.

"The vent," said Harry as he walked over to a small, rectangular metal thing with stripes that was stuck in the wall. "There must be a vent in your mum and dad's room. That's why we can hear them talking."

"Oh," said Ron, kneeling down next to Harry. "Cool, I guess."

"Arthur...we have to tell them sooner or later," said Mrs. Weasley. "We can't keep this a secret, you know. I'd rather us tell them than for them to find out on their own."

"Molly, dear...well...I don't know if it's official yet," said Mr. Weasley in a calm voice.

"You don't know if it's official yet?" said Mrs. Weasley unbelievingly. "Arthur..."

"Molly...please...let's not talk about this right now--"

"No, Arthur," hissed Mrs. Weasley.

Ron leaned in closer to the vent. He was getting curious. What was his father hiding? Was it about Hermione?

"I'm not going to keep this from my children any longer!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "We have to tell them that you are the new Minister of Magic!"

Ron gasped, and fell backwards onto George, who fell backwards onto Fred, who fell hard on the floor.

"Owww!" he howled, rubbing his orange head fiercly. "Dammit...George...I think it's time for you to cut down on the chocolate cake!"

"Leave me alone--"

"Hush!" hissed Ron as he returned to his position by the vent.

"--tell them tomorrow when we go to St. Mungo's."

"Arthur!"

"Fine, Molly...would you like to go wake them up and tell them now then?"

Ron could almost hear his mother scowl.

"Fine," she said huffily. A few seconds later, he heard the mattress creak and he knew she had gone to bed.

Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were all quiet for a long while. Ron was shocked. His dad was Minister of Magic? Was that even possible? What about Fudge?

"Holy shite," said George as he and Fred sat down on Harry's bed. "Dad's Minister of Magic? How on earth did that happen?"

"I dunno," said Ron, as he plopped down on his bed. "But it sure is odd...why would they make Dad Minister of Magic?"

"Oh, come on, Ron," said Fred. "Use your brain. The Ministry wants to make a complete fool out of him, don't they? I bet you anything Lucius Malfoy nominated him to diliberately humilate him. Bloody bastard."

"Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban, you prat," George told his twin, slapping him in the back of his head.

Fred grinned stupidly. "Oh yeah..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well...I dunno...I mean, he could have nominated him before he went into Azkaban."

George shrugged. "That's possible, but it just doesn't seem right."

"But what about Fudge? Why would Malfoy nominate Dad when Fudge already had the job?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm sure we'll find out soon, won't we?"

"You're right, Harry," said Fred. "You're absolutely right."

"Yes...and although it's been so much fun visiting with you," said George sarcastically. "Fred and I are going to bed now." With that, he and his twin Apparated with a crack.

"Well," said Ron. "We better get some sleep..."

Harry nodded, and flicked off the lamp.

Ron laid in bed for the next thirty minutes, thinking of Hermione, before he nodded off and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.