The Shattered Window of Orthetain

Ronald Weasley was worried and not for the first time, at that.

He was enraged and furious, but not for the reasons you’d have thought.

It was a cold Wednesday morning in August. Being cold in August, in the height of summer, was a strange thing, especially in this area of England. Usually at this time of year the sun would be out and shining, and Ronald would be doing something more exciting, like playing Quidditch, or annoying his mother, rather than being stuck in his room doing homework.

Homework was not one of Ron’s strong points but then again neither was Quidditch, but at least he liked Quidditch.

His sister was spending the week at a friend's house, Luna Lovegood, a girl whom Ron had got to know much better last year than any other.

The morning had dragged by slowly, splashes of rain outside his bedroom window made Ron seem less enthusiastic towards his work.

He scratched his quill, which was covered with ink, on his cheek and turned to his History of Magic essay.

In recent times the Dragons around the world have become more protected in the fact that more Dragon conservation systems have been set up.

However in 1954 this changed when Rio Orsenthal was arrested for the slaughter of ten Norwegian Ridgebacks….

Ron stopped writing. It was half past twelve and this was all he had written since ten that morning

‘Ten Owls that’s two less than Percy !’ Ron’s mother's voice rang through his head as he sat there writing.

Ten Owls, Ron thought he would faint when he read that, and he had got an O in Transfiguration which surprised him greatly.

He had received one D in Potions Practical which hadn’t surprised him.

There was a knock at the door and his mother came in.

'Ron dear,' she said with a glimpse of pride in her son. 'Umm... pack up dear...'

‘Why?’ Ron asked turning to a piece of work he had written the day before making it seem that he had written loads.

‘I can’t say dear, Dumbledore’s orders, just pack some stuff and be downstairs in twenty minutes.'

‘What has Dumbledore got to do with this,’ Ron asked again but his mother only smiled and left the room.

Twenty minutes later he had heaved his trunk downstairs without the use of magic, which was deeply annoying him.

He had packed a load of clothes and had stuffed them into his trunk along with all his robes and books.

All in all Ron wasn’t very pleased with how he had packed his trunk and he thought that he could have done it much better and made the trunk less heavier.

When he arrived downstairs his mother was boiling the kettle.

‘Well then, where are we going?’ he asked.

The Kettle started whistling and Mrs Weasley said ‘I can’t tell you until we get there, and for god’s sake, Ron, put on some muggle clothes!’

Ron slumped his way upstairs and changed out of his black robes and put on his scabbiest pair of jeans and a old Huddersfield football shirt which his dad had found in the Ministry.

He arrived back downstairs and his mother was now packing her own bag in a great rush.

‘Now Ron,’ she said, ’I’m going to have to send your trunk there first, we don’t want anyone to see you heaving this down the road.’

She took out her wand and muttered ‘Movere alius quo’ and suddenly Ron’s trunk disappeared.

‘Right then,’ Mrs Weasley continued and she used the same spell on her bag. ‘Let’s go then, we got a long walk.’

A moment or so later Ron was walking across a field with his mother behind him. The rain splashed on his face as he looked up at the dark and bewildering sky.

‘To think that I was in the Ministry of Magic three weeks ago…’ thought Ron, ‘and Sirius falling through…’

Ron shut his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it any more than he had.

He had been upset, and he supposed that the grief he was feeling was not as much as Harry was.

And where was he, for Harry had not appeared to be writing since two weeks ago.

But then again the letters he had written were not at all that Comforting.

Ron, I am not looking forward to going to Hogwarts this year…in fact I might not…please do not be too alarmed when you read this, and don’t come to my house and try to persuade me to come because I won’t.

And why, why didn’t Harry want to see them. Ron had thought about one day sneaking out of the house and going to see Harry, but his mother was not pleased with his plans.

‘You can’t go and see him… I’m sorry Ron, but no…you’ll just have to let him work it out on his own.’

Ron had entered a dense forest now, his mother had caught up behind him.

‘Right it’s around here somewhere,’ she said, lighting up her wand and telling Ron to do the same.

She walked pass a moss filled tree and then turned left and then right and then left again, they seemed to walk on for hours.

Suddenly as Ron’s feet were beginning to ache, Mrs Weasley stopped.

There was a thorn bush a few metres ahead and Mrs Weasley cautiously walked up to it.

There was a hoot from a nearby owl (as they had walked it had become considerably darker) and Ron looked up and saw a flurry of white fly away to the south.

There was a movement in the trees and a loud roar followed, Mrs Weasley stopped, trembling.

The roar was from a few yards to Ron’s right. He looked slowly in the direction of the roar and something large grabbed him.

Grey and inhospitable with troll like features, the giant had Ron by his legs. Mrs Weasley was screaming and looking for her wand. She found it but Ron and the Giant had gone.

Ron didn’t need to hold on for the giant had held him in a tight grip. He walked for twenty minutes until they reached a stream and the giant let Ron down to the floor where he stood shaking.

The giant put his hands into the cool stream and took a drink, roaring loudly afterwards.

He picked up Ron again and he carried him for another hour. It was dark and cold and Ron was scared.

The giant reached a large cave in the side of a mountain. He let Ron down, walked over to a tree, ripped it up and piled the logs and branches in front of Ron.

‘Fire,’ the Giant said, and too afraid to disobey Ron said ‘Incendio’ and the wood caught fire.

The giant sat down and motioned to Ron to do so.

Ron did, the giant picked up a dead rabbit he had caught on the way to the cave and gave it to Ron.

‘Um,…thank you,’ he said and he took a bite out of it, it was very warm.

‘Whon,’ the giant said suddenly.

Ron nearly choked on the rabbit.

‘Pardon,’ he asked.

‘Whon,’ the giant repeated.

Ron’s eyes lit up. ‘So you're Grawp?’