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Chapter 24 - Some secret shame

Ron's life was not turning out the way he had thought it would. Not only that, but many of his most closely-held beliefs were turning out to be spectacularly wrong.

For instance, he had no choice but to face up to the plain and simple fact that he just wasn't that good at Quidditch. Oh, he was mighty fine at making big boasts about how Chudley were going to win it all this season. But, not to put too fine a point on it, he wasn't much up to scratch as a keeper without a captain yelling to tell him what to do, and when to do it.

With Harry skipping out on Quidditch this year, no one was interested in helping Ron be a better player. In fact, his oafish chatter and hollow grin didn't seem nearly as engaging to his teammates as it had when he was part of the threesome.

And there it was. He was no longer part of the 'Golden Trio', as it had once been called. He had been most angry of all when Harry had returned; then had been most embarrassed when it was explained to him and the Gryffs just how much of a prat he was being. The only reason he hadn't just dried up and disappeared was that the whole room had been getting dressed down, not just him.

He sat at the far end of the table, with the students in their seventh year but not really a part of them, and watched. Harry Potter was certainly a lightning rod for more kinds of interesting happenings than could be imagined. In one morning -- indeed, in less than an hour -- he had defeated and humiliated Snape, deposed Dumbledore for a second time, and... he'd had the Supreme Mugwump and the Minister of the Crown arrested and led off in manacles. Now he watched Harry return to the Gryffindor table to resume his breakfast, as if the pandemonium was the sign of just another day.

It finally occurred to Ron. It finally percolated in. It was he, Ron Weasley, that was behaving like an utter berk. Harry had told them all what it would take to be his friend, months ago when he'd returned, and Ron had stayed away, fuming. But he now felt he had to do something. Something to make things right.

When the noise slowly returned to the level of the normal breakfast murmur in the Great Hall, there was a lone figure standing a respectful distance off from Harry and his women, waiting to speak.

"Good morning, Ron," he said.

"Er... erm... hi, Harry." The young man with the ruddy complexion was obviously anxious about something. "Umm... could we... I mean, do you have amoment?"

"Sure, Ron. Maybe you'd like to go for a little walk?"

"Um... well, if it's okay with you two," he said, looking at Luna and Hermione.

Hermione closed the book she was thumbing through and stood, Luna standing at the same time. "We'll catch up with you later, Harry," Hermione said. They both stood on tip-toe to plant a chaste kiss on either cheek before walking away. Ron looked in wonder at the pair, shaking his head -- not in disapproval, but in amazement.

Harry grabbed his staff and hobbled toward the entrance to the Great Hall. They were not followed.

"Harry..." Ron began.

"Go ahead, Ron," said Harry. He's struggling, he thought, but he's sixteen years old -- old enough to figure out what's on his own mind.

"Harry, what's wrong with your leg?"

"The Dursleys are what's wrong. The hints and threats at King's Cross station at the end of last school year were too little, too late. Maybe I'll have it fixed properly when I'm done with what I have to do."

"What do you have to do?" asked the redhead.

Harry recited the prophesy for him, his voice flat. He was tired of being outraged at that little bit of doggerel, and so felt no desire to inflect.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, looking down. "I don't know if I could handle that..." he trailed off for a moment, then came back to his point. "Harry, I have three things I need to clear up between us." He looked at Harry for a reaction, but there was none.

"I'm sorry I jumped all over you when you came back to school in November. I should have found out what was going on."

"Accepted," said Harry.

"I'm sorry that I've been jealous of you all these years. I've seen you take on Snape, and Dumbledore, and the Minister, all during breakfast. And you've fought You..." he looked sheepish. "You've had to fight You-Know-Who, and now you have to kill him. Anyway, you can keep your money and fame, if that's what comes with it."

"Accepted," said Harry.

"Well... and... Imean..." Ron stammered for a bit longer. "Harry, would it be alright if... aw, hell. Would it be alright if Luna took my place in the golden trio? I mean, don't get me wrong, I still like... I still support you, but I can't do any more of those adventures. Ever since that thing with the brains..."

Harry looked, and saw a tear escape and run down Ron's cheek. Just the thought of going on another 'adventure' like that one was too much the young redhead. He had spent most of his summer getting multiple painful treatments and potions just to get the nightmares under control again.

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder, saying, "Right you are, then, mate. After all, you need time to work on your own love life, eh? I've seen some of those girls panting after you, the red-headed Quidditch star."

Ron snorted to cover a sob. Harry could see, by examining his friend's aura, that Ron was terrified. Of everything. He was afraid of danger with Harry, afraid of Harry, afraid of falling in Quidditch, afraid of failing... His run-in with the tentacled brain-creatures at the DoM had caused much damage. The physical damage had been healed, but any courage that the young Gryffindor may once have had was exorcised.

"Ron, I know Luna and Hermione would be proud of you right now. And don't worry. I still consider you my friend, and I will still look out for your family."

"Yeah..." began Ron. "That reminds me. Mum wrote me and told me what you did with those... Death Eaters at the Burrow. I appreciate you saving them, Harry, I really do... and she wants to know when you're going to get that stone statue thing away from her front gate." This last came with atrademark Weasley grin.

***

Friday, March 7th, 1997

Time moved forward at Hogwarts, as it usually does everywhere. Those students who were known to ascribe to the tenets of Voldemort and his racist cronies did not just dry up and blow away -- as many wished they would -- but were considerably less public in their bigotry.

Anyone watching the more rabid Dark followers would have seen shifty eyes, hushed conversations that stopped when seen, and looks of hatred directed towards those who didn't want to play along. In other words, they behaved completely as normal.

The down side of having the "Children of the Dork" act so maddeningly normal was that there was no way to tell if they were plotting something horrid, or just wishing they had the courage to plot something horrid. This made their doings very hard to predict.

The further sad side of having terrorists around was that there was no way to be like a Boy Scout and "be prepared". There were simply too many things that could be attacked, and too many ways those attacks could come. Not because they were a magical community -- muggles faced the same problems with terrorists -- but because it is absolutely impossible to predict every single way some jackass with an agenda could throw a wrench into the works.

Which was why Harry was disappointed, but not really all that surprised, when he heard the voice of McGonagall in his head that morning, calling him in the way that he had given her.

"Harry, I need you," she said. Harry had just finished his first cup of morning tea, and was looking forward to a nice, quiet breakfast with friends in the Great Hall.

"Be right there," he replied sotto voce. To Hermione and Luna he said, "Professor McGonagall needs me for something. Go ahead and eat, I'll be back when I can." He topped up his teacup, transfigured it into a muggle thermal mug, and stumped away, thumping his cane as he walked.

As soon as he was out of sight of the hall, not wanting to upset anyone, he transported himself magically to the outside of McGonagall's office. He knocked on the door and waited for the"Enter" that was McGonagall's trademark greeting. Instead, the door was pulled open before him and he was presented with her distressed face.

"Tell me," he said simply.

"Azkaban was attacked just before dawn this morning. There is no one there left alive." She seemed to be rushing to get it all out. "All the Death Eaters are gone, with a few others. The rest are... are dead. The Dementors are all gone. I'm worried, Harry, that there will be an attack on the school, or the children of the Death Eaters will do something..." she could go no further. Her hands were wringing so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Harry took her shoulders to pull her in for an embrace. She didn't return it, but didn't resist either. "I could use your advice, Harry. I honestly don't know what to do. Albus may not have dealt with you... honestly, but he always... seemed to project the air of someone who knew what to do... Iguess I relied upon that more than I realized... more than I should have..."

Harry hugged her tightly, and spoke into her ear. "You can do this, Professor. You don't have to solve everything; you just have to look like you will. I want you to take your meal in the Great Hall, to let the students see you. Fudge must've quashed the Daily Prophet this morning, to keep it out of the papers, because no word of it was announced. Just sit at your head table, look at them sternly once in awhile, and let the students draw strength from your appearance. Okay?"

"But Harry," she said, "if the attack comes, what shall we do? We don't have an army here."

"You most certainly do have an army, young lady!" They both grinned at that; Harry knew that older ladies got a giggle out of being called 'young lady'. You have a whole crack brigade of over two hundred students who have been trained and honed to a fine edge by The Boy Who Lived! And Luna can lock down the castle." He flourished his staff like a longsword and shouted, "Avast, ye Death Eater swabs! Prepare to be thwarted! Ar-har!" He lowered his staff and his mien, so that he now stood as solemnly as before. "Any questions?"

Professor McGonagall smiled in spite of herself, and said, "Cheeky monkey. Very well, I'll get to the hall. What are you going to do?"

"Simple, really," replied Harry. "I'll just go and get them. Be back soon." He blew her a kiss and disappeared.