HPNSA - BOOK TWO

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE THEATRE TICKET
TIMELINE: FEBRUARY 1 – 2, 1998


(Feb. 1 – 3:00 am)




Ron remembers that smell. He loved it and hated it at the same time. He wanted to get out of this place for it reminded him of the happiest and cruelest time in his young life. He didn't want to open his eyes and see the room once more.

Suddenly a warm object was placed on his open palm...then he remembered why he was there.

"Ron, open your eyes."

“Harry?”

Ron felt shivers running down his spine as he opened his eyes slowly to see the stone upon his open palm. He didn't know how he did it but here he is now standing in the middle of their room inside the Southern Tower, and standing a few feet from him was Harry... alive...breathing...

Afraid that the vision would disappear, Ron stopped his eyes from blinking causing them to sting. The tears brought about by the pain coming from the depths of his belly and from the cold January-air slowly blurred his eyes. He swallowed hard and though his breathing was heavy, no tear ever fell. He fought hard to be here, to see this, for many, many days. He gulped all the tears down and bade them never to return for nothing this day will be wasted on them. Not the shadows of the trees that danced outside, not the lukewarm air that made his skin tingle, not the amber fingers of the sun that shown with a faint warm glow through the large windows of the secret room inside Hogwarts castle. Everything will be absorbed, remembered, and cherished-- for this moment might be their last.

"You made it..." Harry said, his voice, though it cracked, sounded almost melodic to Ron's eager ears. He could listen to that voice for an eternity, though, right now, it weakened him. He wobbled and nearly buckled but Harry moved towards him and caught his arms. Ron stopped breathing. Harry was only inches away from him; the feel of Harry's warm breath upon Ron's face had caused large goose bumps to emerge all over his body. He was real. The hand that held his arm so firmly throbbed with life. His eyes, no longer staring blankly into oblivion, were now rich with that emerald green brilliance that everyone said he acquired from his late mother. It wasn't just a vision.

“You’re here…you’re really here…” He whispered as the tears returned. He held them gently, rubbing his thumb across Harry's open palm, feeling the blood pulse of his wrists. The chain marks were no longer there. Ron looked at each fingertip now bright pink and filled with life and no sign of the cruel pincers could be seen.

“Yes, Ron…I’ve been waiting for days,” Harry answered. He pulled Ron closer, placing his lips beside his right ear, he whispered hoarsely, “They said you wouldn’t come.”

Ron slowly closed his arms around the warm body that was now pressed against his. He could now feel the beating of Harry's heart and he knew that Harry could feel his - drumming madly. He nuzzled Harry's neck and slowly, by instinct, his lips traced the soft groove of Harry's neck. As if in answer, Harry's hands began raking his thick fire-red hair, pressing his lips against Ron’s ear, kissing gently, nibbling the lobes. Ron could feel himself stiffening.

“Nothing…Harry.” Ron barely made a sound, as his hoarse voice quivered with the sensation caused by Harry’s tender kisses. “Nothing could have stopped me---No one could have stopped me.”

Harry pushed gently to look up at him his eyes glimmered with questions. Today was not a day for questions, Ron thought, today will be a day for them and their love.

Ron pressed his lips against his face and ears, and whispered, “How I miss you,” and before Harry could answer, Ron had covered his mouth with an eager kiss. He softly sucked Harry's lips, fanning the fire within, tracing his tongue gently upon every lip until Harry opened his mouth ushering Ron's tongue to come in. Ron was now drinking from Harry's mouth as though he had been left in the desert for many days, dying of thirst, and Harry was an oasis--nourishing him, body and soul. Harry's moans only added to his excitement, burning him further as he explored Harry's mouth as though this was the first time they kissed. His hand was navigating Harry's lean body feeling everything underneath his clothes.

Breathless, Ron broke the kiss only to move his lips on Harry's collarbone, and up his neck and then onto his ears. He wanted the taste of his skin to linger long after this day was over. He needs it now more than air.

“Ron…I need you, Ron…I want you…” Harry begged, returning the caress of Ron's lips with his own. He took Ron's cloak off and pushed the clasp that held the Knight's uniform tight, and at once the clothing provided by the Bureau fell on the floor, revealing Ron's massive upper body that was filled with crisscrossing lines of previous wounds and stitches. The Bureau trained him as a Knight and the scars served as his diploma.

Ron quickly guided Harry to the bed covered with royal red sheets. He knew how Harry felt about his scars, and afraid that it might destroy the moment, Ron decided to give him something else to think about. As Harry lay on the bed, Ron showered his neck and face with fervent kisses then moved lower, sucking his neck gently leaving red patches all over. Harry whined running his hands down Ron's back, urging him to go lower.

Ron obeyed. He gently uncovered Harry with his mouth, biting on the articles of clothing that covered his trim body. Ron bit off every single button from his white shirt and spat them onto the floor; Harry chuckled – Ron knew he got the message - you're not wearing this shirt again today. When Ron spat the last button, he pushed the shirt aside and with his mouth hot and wavering, he bathes Harry's body . Harry moaned and whimpered, arching his body. Ron could feel the aching tautness from the passion that Harry’s cries brought. But it wasn’t enough. Ron wanted him to cry aloud, louder than he ever had, to scream in ecstasy, even if it rents his sanity in two.

“Ron, please---ohgod!” Harry whined as Ron brushed his tongue around each of his taut nipples and sucked them. “Damn it! Ron…inside me--Please!”

Ron was wallowing in bliss. He strategically pushed his leggings off and threw the clothing made of an unknown material that was tougher than Kevlar and lighter than cotton. The same one his upper uniform was made of. The one the Bureau provided him and all the other Knights. Everything he had that revealed he was a Knight of the Bureau was now on the floor, and on the bed, above Harry’s writhing body, was just Ron Weasley – wizard of Hogwarts.

“…I want you…” Harry whimpered. “…Now…Now, Ron, please…”

“…Too soon…” Ron replied, still sucking Harry’s lower abdomen greedily.

Harry pushed Ron over so that now he was on top of him, his tongue filling the inside of Ron’s ear. Ron was about to loose consciousness and groaned loudly as Harry’s tongue made him see stars. Ron could feel his entire body ache every time Harry sucked his nipples. The burning in his belly told him he needed to take charge before he looses his mind for Harry’s mouth was now moving lower.

Ron pulled Harry by the arms and firmly turned him over so that now he was again on his back. Then he ran his lips down a straight line from his throat down to his navel.

“I want you…inside me…” Harry begged as the motion made his entire body tremble.

Ron slowly moved lower, lower down to that hidden place where Harry needed release. He pushed the white undergarment that had covered it deceivingly until it was finally out of the way and on the floor. Then he opened Harry’s thighs gingerly revealing the treasure it hid inside. Harry gasped as Ron went down to worship it with his mouth. Adoring every single groove, every single mound until the opening gushed out a rushing river. Harry gave out a cry of ecstasy, as Ron’s tongue opened the dam, concentrating his tongue-play on the little pearl that was now taut and swollen. Lightly sucking at the tender flesh until he heard Harry cried his name, and shuddered beneath him.

Harry could barely open his eyes and Ron enjoyed the look of pained pleasure on his face. He was breathing hard panting from the orgasm that Ron decided would be the first, but certainly not the last he will have today.

“Inside me, Ron!” Harry pleaded.

It was time, Ron decided, and he gave in to the request. He slowly slid himself inside the tight, warm, and wet entrance, moaning loudly as every thrust brought him closer to heaven.

“Harr---rryy!” Ron moaned biting his lower lip as he moved slowly inside and out. However, every plunge tortured him and forced him go faster. He could hear Harry grunting and groaning as well, whimpering, begging him to go faster. Aching terribly, Ron decided it was time to acquiesce Harry’s request.

“Faster, Ron!” Harry whined, reaching out for the pillows, gripping them tightly.

Ron placed Harry’s legs on top of his shoulders and lifted his waist higher so that now he filled him completely. Then the ride began; he plunged slowly until the rhythm was steady and Harry was arching his hips to meet his thrusts half way. The rate increased again, faster and faster they went, meeting in perfect harmony, the heat of their desire pushing them both to the brink of insanity.

“Ohgod! Ron! Fuckingshit! Ron!” Harry cried.

Ron could almost feel it, it was nearly there, he was at the edge of the universe and his eyes were dimming as everything around him slowly faded into the background. All that was left was Harry’s tortured face, filled with so much agony at the pending relief that seemed to have been prolonged. Ron could tell that they both ached now as they moaned and groaned with every thrust--Faster---harder.

“Harry! I’m coming!” Ron said with difficulty. “Oh Harry! Harry!”

Harry raked his fingers through his hair and grunted as the shuddering climax shook his body and made him scream Ron’s name louder than he ever had.

“It’s coming…I’m coming…Haa...rrr…rry!” Ron gasped as every stride brought him closer and closer to that shattering explosion. He could see Harry twisting beneath him, and knew that the release was making him scream with pleasure though he has have been deafened by the gush of blood thumping loudly in his ears. There was nothing around them anymore; nothing between them, nothing in their past or in the blurry uncertain future. There was just now, this moment, and Ron wanted this time to last forever, for as long as he can hold on to it.

There it was, almost within his reach…it’s coming…so near…so near…

“Ron, open your eyes.”

-----

The cold morning air found its way into Ron’s lungs as the fire in the hearth burned low. Something had awakened him from his dream *, he wondered now if it was the chattering of his teeth, or the purring of the large white Persian that curled on his lap. He tried to yawn—somehow it would not happen for his slumber was not restful, filled with dreams that left him wanting. It has been this way since Harry’s abduction, and the more they were apart, the more elaborate they became, and now they fill him with this insatiable desire that is slowly driving him mad.

The dream was all about Harry and had he dreamt it in another, less stressful time it would have been easy to recall, and no doubt he would have happily lingered in it longer. But no matter how hard he tried, for the past month now, it had been very difficult to recover these images that fuse into a hazy collage that float inside his subconscious, waiting for him to close his waking mind so that they can come out to torment him with loneliness.

Annoyed, Ron decided to rub the sleep away with the heel of his hand. As he did, loose ends of his flaming red hair now several inches longer than it should be hung over his face slipping the knot that held the rest of it at the back in a rather untidy braid. He took off the band, loosened the braid then pulled back the rest and tied it into a ponytail. He now resembled his older brother Bill though he smiled very little.

His eyes began to clear but his head still swam and every inch of him ached. Rio had fallen asleep sitting on the floor by the door crouching in the cold weather and not far from them was Dudley, asleep as well, gagged and bound, leaning against the old piano where they had placed him.

When Ron turned around he saw Arabella Figg hobbling on her cane in the kitchen. She was carrying the hand-painted teapot to and fro tipping it a little, spilling the boiling hot tea onto the floor – she swears at her clumsiness then hobbles forward until she reached the table then she slowly walked back to her oven. Ron looked outside the window – it was still dark. He was not going to be able to return to sleep again so he decided to have an early start. Today was the day and he needed to get to Hogwarts before the day ends.

He stood and grabbed his right arm as a cramp threatened to stiffen it. He moved towards the fire and spread his hands in front of it, and then as the heat transferred he warmed his arm with his left palm and felt it ease. He walked towards the kitchen and the old lady nearly bumped into him with a plate of scones.

“Oh so you’re awake, are ye?” Arabella said upon seeing him.

“Good morning, Mrs. Figg.” Ron said hoarsely taking the plate of delicious-looking buttered scones from her shaking hands and placed it on the table. He then went into the kitchen to get the cups from the cupboard.

Arabella decided to sit down leaving the young man to finish up. “Here, have some tea with me-- Edgar get down!” She said, scolding the large orange shorthair that jumped on the table after the scones.

Ron obliged and took off his cloak then sat opposite the old lady. Arabella poured him some tea and offered him milk, which he declined.

“What’s the time?” Ron asked sipping the hot beverage slowly. Somehow the feel of it coursing down to his empty stomach was doing him a lot of good. It had awakened the rest of him where sleep still lingered stubbornly.

“It’s a quarter past three. February the first,” She reminded him.

Ron felt a painful sting run through him remembering what day it was. He swallowed hard suddenly loosing his appetite for the buttered scones.

“Are you sure there is no other way to Hogwarts that you can think of?”

“Son, Albus comes to me, not I to him. You would know more roads to that castle than I ever would.”

Ron frowned; everyone in the wizarding world knows most of those roads too, and right now he was not a very popular wizard.

“I hope they are not guarded, I don’t want to have to kill another wizard. But I need to get there today.” Ron lamented.

Arabella looked at him disapprovingly. “You ought not be like those damn Death Eaters, you know. Killing without cause!” she snorted.

Ron felt a tad offended by her comparison. “He was going to kill my brother, what was I supposed to do? Help him? Or no, give him a sermon that as a hit wizard he’s not supposed to use the Killing Curse? It was self-defense!” He snapped.

Arabella waved her hand in front of his face. “Is that what you try to convince yourself to believe? Self-defense? Why not stun him? Repel him? With your size a nasty shove would have done the trick! Self-defense my ass! What good is it having a wand if you are to use a sword?”

The questions had shaken Ron’s disposition rather harshly for he has successfully convinced himself that what he did was right—that it was justified by the attack that had been uncalled for. Somehow looking back now, from this point of view, it seemed unnecessary.

“I--I ran out of choices,” Ron said trying to save his argument, but even he wasn’t convinced.

“Nonsense! There are always choices, it’s up to you whether you want to see them or not.” Arabella berated. “Ran out of choices…why, even a cornered rat would have come up with a better solution.”

That’s exactly how he felt that day, a cornered rat, desperate to get back to his hole before Sunday. Not to be safe - his return would herald the beginning of a life filled with danger - but because the most important person was about to be taken from him again, and this time, he’ll be gone for a long time, perhaps permanently. By the time the sun sets on the third day of February, Harry will die all over again as they take him to a place where Ron cannot follow.

He lost him before and the grief made him mad enough to conjure magic that had not been in use for thousands of years to get him back, disregarding the consequences. The magic worked but to make it permanent he had to finish a quest that was nearly as impossible as a trip to the sun. It would have been difficult for him to stay sane had it not been for the fortunate turn that made Harry audible although only to him. It gave him hope that soon all of Harry will return and it was better than silence. Ron could not imagine going on day after day with nothing but memories.

When Hermione told him about the stones, Ron thought a higher power was trying to help him for it was exactly what he needed: One chance to be with Harry even for just a day. It seemed to be a miracle, a gift from the powers that be. Then she told him why it was given--Harry was about to leave them and wait for him to finish his task.

At first Ron could not see how it would complicate things for he was too grateful for the stones and too preoccupied by the fact that Harry had used one with Malfoy. But too much time gave him a chance to ponder things so that he came to realize what it really was, a sadistic joke masked by a ‘gift’ that lulls you into a false sense of hope. It frightened him to the point where his mind could no longer distinguish the right thing to do. He needed to know the reason since no one seemed to know why there was a need for Harry to leave. Then something goes wrong and the very little hope of seeing Harry is threatened; that’s why he chose to kill Murdow, to vent out the anger that was now hardening his soul.

Ron drank the last bit of his tea in one gulp. “I’ll pass by the Dursley’s before going to London,” He reached for the leather pouch that hung on his belt beside the holsters of his Sai and daggers. He counted the muggle money that were inside and satisfied of their amount, he grabs his cloak and stood. “Tell Rio to feed Dudley while I’m gone.”

“Why you’d leave your son with them is beyond me!” Arabella said sardonically. “They’d never forgive you for taking Dudley this way,”

Ron didn’t want to say it but he thought that she was rather inapt to take care of a child. Then again, choosing the Dursleys knowing how cruel they were to Harry before seemed to be just as idiotic and Arabella made that point clearly when they barged into her kitchen a few hours ago, gagging Dudley binding him with magic ropes. She persuaded them to get the child as soon as it can be arranged – once Ron finds a way to Hogwarts – then return Dudley to his parents.

“We took him for entertainment, Mrs. Figg.” He said jokingly. “He’s as funny as those actors in theatres! Amuse yourself while he’s here,” Ron saw Arabella mutter something to herself. After a while he decided he needed to get a move on. He was almost out of the door when the old lady called after him.

“I remember something…might be nothing --- you see I remember Albus gave me a thing a whiles back.” Arabella said.

Ron looked at her curiously. “What?”

“He says only to use it as an escape. I’ve never used it though, never needing to run away from my own house. But I’ve got it, and now where did I put that…” Her voiced trailed after her as she hobbled over to her room, and so did Ron. She opened several old boxes, muttering and shaking her head whenever they came up empty. “Ahh, here it is,” She exclaimed.

Ron held his breath and went over to her looking at the object in her hand. It was an old theatre ticket. He took it from her and it glimmered but did nothing. “It might be a Portkey,” He waved it around. “This one might be activated by something, by a spell or by a symbol.” He said, remembering the can of beans by the lake. “Do you know how to make it work?”

“Make it work?” Arabella echoed.

“Yes, did Dumbledore tell you how to work this, this could be a Portkey to Hogwarts or to Grimauld Place.” Ron said.

Arabella fixed her glasses and stared at the ticket again looking at it from one side to the other, muttering incoherently. After a while both of them realized she didn’t have a clue what it was much less how to make it work. But Ron told her to keep it close, and to try to remember.

“If Dumbledore gave it to you as an escape, something that will bring you to safety – well, that’s the Order, the only safety we can all rely on.” Ron said. “Please try to remember, I will be back here as soon as I determine which way to use.”

Rio was now awake and Ron saw him looking out the windows before checking Dudley. When he saw Ron he nodded to him before moving towards the hearth to warm himself. Ron opened the kitchen door slowly, drank several draughts before weeding through the houses.

Ron slipped in and out of the shadows of the neighborhood until he reached Privet Drive. He jumped over the tall hedges landing on his feet like a cat. Then he climbed towards the room that used to be Harry’s. He peered inside but it was empty. He decided to go around and found his son in a larger room on the other side of the house. He was surrounded by large pillows and was wearing what seemed to be a faded blue overall.

Ron slowly opened the window and crept inside. The room had all kinds of contraptions and Ron would have loved to tinkle with them but at the moment he wasn’t that interested. He walked towards the bed and sat slowly trying not to wake his son. He looked so peaceful lying there breathing softly. There was a bottle of half-filled milk nearby and a couple of unused nappies. Ron fiddled with Archer’s fingers and then twiddled with his hair.

The sun was now peeking on the horizon. Ron looked at the small alarm clock by the bedside table – it was half past six. He bent over and kissed Archer’s forehead. He was about to leave when the door opened and Petunia walked in on them, gasping in fright.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Dudley?” Said she.

“Dudley’s fine. I came by to see my son.” Ron said.

Petunia’s eyes filled with tears. She swallowed hard several times before her quivering lips could say a word. “I did what you asked, I took care of him. When can I see my son?”

“Soon.” Ron said. He felt sorry for her somehow yet something was making him hold back his sympathy. Petunia closed her eyes and covered her mouth as her sobbing became louder. “Don’t cry. I have not hurt your son…yet.”

Petunia tried to compose herself. “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you, I needed someone to take care of him.”

“Yes, but why’d you choose us? There are thousands of families out there, why us?” Petunia snapped.

“Why not you?” Ron said. Petunia could not answer. “Whose shirt is this he’s wearing?”

“My nephew’s,” Petunia sobbed.

“Why’d you give him this? He has shirts of his own, he doesn’t need Harry’s,” Ron asked.

Petunia’s eyes were now narrowing, as she slowly seemed to realize who this mysterious young man was. “You’ve been here before, I remember you now, you were the one that took Harry away…that night…when Lars…” Ron slowly pushed the hood of his cloak so that Petunia could see his face. Petunia gasped and the expression on her face changed from fear to loathing. “I knew it! Where is he? Where’s that freak?”

Ron walked closer to her and she backed away trembling but she looked at him with contempt. Ron took out a dagger and placed the shiny blade upon Petunia’s face, pinning her against the wall, his left hand upon her mouth. “Don’t you ever use that word again, or I’ll cut your tongue.” Petunia sobbed. “Shhh! Learn to use kinder words, all right? I’m not evil. But I can be when provoked,”

Petunia nodded and Ron let her go slowly. Then Ron took a shirt from the pink baby bag that they left with them and gave it to her.

“What?” She asked.

“I don’t like him wearing that shirt. It will remind you of Harry, and I don’t like you treating my son the way you treated him. I want you to treat him, as though he was Dudley. Can you do that?” Ron asked.

Petunia pursed her lips but nodded after a while. Ron tapped her lightly on the shoulders then ventured to go out the window again but Petunia stopped him. “The neighbors might see,”

Ron heeded her warning and went downstairs. He then saw Vernon’s cream coloured trench coat inside the closet that was slightly opened. He took it and a black hat that hung on the hat stand near the door.

“I’ll return these,” he said wearing the items, then left not waiting for Petunia to respond.

As he walked down the streets, the neighbors who woke up early enough to either jog or mow their lawns, looked at him with curious fear. He could hear them muttering behind him, asking themselves who he was and what he was doing in their quiet neighborhood. He saw a cab turn the curve and decided to take a ride.

“The train station,” Ron told the cab driver.

After a few minutes he was on the train and on his way to London. Though the trench coat and hat provided him cover from wizard eyes, the muggles seemed to get awfully curious with his peculiar fashion. They stared at him wondering why a young, handsome man would wear a large cream-coloured trench that obviously didn’t match his body size being a couple of sizes larger over a body fitting, black outfit that seemed to be made of a leathery material that was peeking out of the opening in his chest. Ron didn’t mind the attention—as long as they did not have any magical heritage, he was fine.

When he got to London he could see that though the streets bustled with Muggles, several wizards were about as well, in broad daylight, risking exposure. They were near the hamburger restaurants, near cinema’s, a couple waited by the music store across the street, while more walked about as though it was a regular thing. What had struck him too was that they weren’t trying to blend in with the crowd at all – they wore their thick velvety robes, and colorful hats that attracted not only the locals but tourists as well. The uncanny style took everyone’s attention but the wizards didn’t seem to mind it.

Then he saw one of the wizards take out his wand in public and threatened a group of teenage boys who were making fun of his clothes. When the boys would not stop taunting him, he hexed them. One of the boys fell on the street petrified. The other boys ran away and several ladies that witnessed the event screamed. But then the wizard just waved his wand at them and they all fell silent though they now ran away from the scene and several shops near the area closed early.

Ron had to stop and think: something was terribly wrong with this picture. The Ministry of Magic was no longer keen on keeping things secret. The existence of their world relied heavily on its concealment so for the Ministry to allow this kind of ‘openness’ was not only against every single law he could think of, it was suicidal. His whole world was steadily collapsing and Ron wondered if it had anything to do with him and his quest. He remembered what Remus told him a few days back- Aveddon was coming.

In New York the Knights can go about the streets without the need for disguise and hunt down Lycans, and Vampires, and demons in the open streets and not one muggle would notice or pay attention. New Yorkers were so used to seeing these things unfold every night that one more didn’t really matter. But that was New York – and though Ron loved the indifference the city learned, to adapt to its constituents, he didn’t want to see London become like it.

Ron walked around the block avoiding every wizard he could see. At around half past ten he reached the wet market and not far was the Leaky Cauldron. He went inside trying hard to be inconspicuous. It was packed, but Ron noticed that most of those that were inside were known criminals in the magical world. Hags and Warlocks that were apprehended by Aurors now mingled with Hit Wizards and Aurors that Ron quickly recognized and steered clear of. There was so much going on inside that he was barely noticed, even with his loud coat, and he was able to get to the backdoor without any problems.

Before him was the wall that would open up to Diagon Alley, then he had to go straight to Olivander’s to use the floo channel that would take him to Dumbledore’s office in Hogwarts. He tapped the red bricks just the way his parents did. Somehow he must have tapped a wrong brick for nothing happened. He tried again, and this time he was sure of the combination. But as before, the wall remained the same and now he was beginning to feel his ears burn.

“What the bloody hell?” He tapped again, and again, and again. He had finally tapped the bricks nearly ten times before deciding it was not going to open at all. “It’s broken,”

Suddenly someone else opened the backdoor and Ron turned to see a hag in front of him. “What are you doing here?” she was eyeing him with deep suspicion.

“I’m trying to get to Diagon Alley,” Ron answered.

“It’s been closed since yesterday, boy.”

Something about this woman made Ron think that she was reading his mind. Then her eyes widened with fear as she stood there gapping at him. “You’re…you’re…” She turned and was about to scream to call for help.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Ron cried. The hag became rigid, her hands snapping to her sides, she sways forward and falls on her face.

Ron decided that it was time for him to leave. He pulled the woman out of the way and closed the door behind him. Nervous to grab further attention, Ron decided to move faster through the crowd dodging everyone’s eyes, covering his face with the hat. He was almost out of the front door when someone bellowed to the drunken crowd.

“STOP HIM! HE HEXED NORWINDA!”

Ron reeled and before he could make a move an Auror stepped forward with his wand pointed at him.

“Take the hat off,”

Ron didn’t move, no one did, and for a time he stopped breathing. The Auror hit the hat on his head and as it flew through the air, the mob gasped when they saw his face.

“Weasley!”

Suddenly the whole place ignited with several wizards taking cover under the tables, some ran upstairs towards the rooms and Ron could hear doors closing loudly, while some, mostly those who supposedly worked for the Ministry, lined themselves and pointed their wands against him as he stood in front of the door, his wand shaking in front of him.

“Lower your wand!” Cried the Auror.

Ron looked at them analyzing the situation, but he didn’t comply. There were about ten Aurors and seven Hit Wizards he could identify by name. They used to frequent the Burrow, while some would even haggle his father for help on certain occasions. They looked so different to him now, standing there nervously pointing their wands at him, gearing to strike him down.

“Lower your wand!”

Ron knew they would never let him go, perhaps even kill him if necessary. Again, the choices have become irrelevant --- soon they’ll become extinct. He braced himself then cried, “EXTUNDO!”

The spell repelled the wizards before they could defend themselves, sending them all throughout the inside of the pub. Unfortunately it also sent him flying out into the streets, as the door broke open when the spell, too powerful for his control, backfired. Muggles that were in the area screamed in fright and ran away as Ron stood shaking from the impact.

“Bloody hell!” Ron said. He was barely up when a hit wizard ran out of the Leaky Cauldron followed by several more.

“There he is!”

Ron ran towards the wet market to try and loose them but he was hit by a spell and he was flung inside a truck of frozen fish. The wizards ran towards him as more were now pouring out of the pub.

“We’ve got him now!”

One of the wizards went inside the truck, followed by three others.

“What…?”

A sword was unsheathed and the sound of steel slashing through flesh was heard. The other wizards that followed hesitated to go nearer as they see fresh blood pouring from inside the truck. They backed away slowly, waiting for the rest of their group. Then as their number increased they advanced again only to be bombarded by crates of frozen fish.

“Run! Run!” They cried.

There was an explosion and the whole front end of the truck was blown off.

“There he is! After him!”

Ron had run into a shopping mall and as soon as he got inside, the muggles panicked. The trench coat had blood splattered all over and he was holding a sharp sword in one hand, while the other was holding a wand. The screaming inside caught the attention of several wizards across the street and when they saw the pursuers that came from all directions they understood that a wanted wizard was inside and they all flooded towards the mall.

Knowing he needed the cover of darkness, Ron ran towards the utility room as a horde of wizards came rushing inside the emptying establishment. When Ron saw the power box he went to it and cut all the wires with his sword and soon the whole place was drenched in darkness.

Then he tried to get out using the backdoor but it was locked and he didn’t want to alert them knowing he won’t stand a chance against these Aurors if they attacked him at the same time. He decided to run for the roof. He opened the door that led to stairwell and ran with incredible speed up to the fifth level of the building. Someone had reached the fourth level though and they saw him pass by and they alerted the others and soon they were at Ron’s heels.

Ron got to the roof and saw his escape-there was a succession of buildings that were of the same height if not lower as the mall. The distance between them would have been a problem if he didn’t have the potions from the Bureau with him. He drank one more just to be sure, and then he jumped just as a wizard came out of the door.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?”

He landed on the other building on his feet then he turned slightly to see them looking at him in awe. He took off the trench and left it as he jumped onto the other building, then to the next until he ran out of low buildings. He decided to go back to the streets, so he went down the last one, and not knowing where he was now, he took another cab.

“Where to mate?” the driver asked.

“Kingscross,” Ron answered a bit breathlessly. The driver looked at him from the rearview mirror, and Ron noticed what he was staring at—his nose bled, and he had a nasty gash on his face just under his right eye near his ear.

“You’re battered pretty good,” the driver observed.

“Yeah, got mugged back there.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have worn that costume, it attracts these robbers. They think you’re a rich eccentric.” The cab driver mused.

“I’ll remember that next time I come here.” Ron said, leaning back, breathing hard.

“Although that’s not the only thing that I worry about in London these days,” The taxi took a sharp turn.

Ron held onto the seat tightly. “What do you mean?” He said mindlessly. He was too tired to worry about ‘world events’, but figured he should humor this person in case he turns out to be a Squibb for the Ministry.

“Well, just the other day I heard from my passengers that there was something prowling the streets now. Why I’ve never seen the papers report so many killings in one night!”

“Killings?” Ron repeated, suddenly the conversation interested him. Has Voldemort begun his streak of muggle-killings again? He wondered.

“Yes, here,” The driver handed him the newspaper and there in big bold letters Ron read the headlines: “FANGED TERROR GRIPS LONDON!”

He sat up; Fangs, was a word he would never associate with the Dark Lord. As he read the report, the more nervous he became.

“Several bodies were found last night, mangled beyond description. Police say that the attacker was either an escaped lion from the local zoo or another large animal as most of the bodies were ravaged by claws and bite marks.” Ron read. “Bite marks…claws,” he whispered.

“What did I tell you?” The driver looked at him from the mirror with satisfaction.

Ron looked out the window; the streets of London had become a hunting ground for a breed of killers that have long been contained elsewhere. Lycans in London – no other species would do such a barbaric act. How they were able to breach the borders without the Bureau knowing was just as odd as why the Ministry of Magic allowed the use of magic in front of muggles. Things are getting to be more and more complicated, Ron thought.

“If the Lycans made it this far, the clans will follow soon.” Ron said to himself.

“What?” The driver asked.

“Nothing. Drive faster please, we need to get to Kingscross as soon as possible.” Ron said.

The driver stepped on the accelerator and in no time they were at the train station. Ron hurried towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, when he got there he walked straight towards it only to bump into a hard wall.

“OW!” he cried holding onto his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS GOING ON!” He cried so loud several muggles looked at him then ran away. One had alerted the security and the man went to him.

“What’re you doing? You walk straight into a solid wall, that’s what you get!” he cried.

Ron turned around and left the security howling at him. First the Leaky Cauldron entrance was closed, and now Platform 9 ¾ is no longer accessible through Kingscross station. Something was clearly preventing him from reaching Hogwarts on time and he was now getting desperately anxious.

He had no doubt that the Ministry of Magic was behind all the closure. They were trying to keep him in London so that they can capture him. He knew he shouldn’t stay there anymore, not only because sooner or later he’ll run out of places to run to, but because there’s a new threat in the area. Ron decided to let the day pass by since he needed to ensure Archer’s safety first. He took another cab and not a moment too soon, for as the car started to move, he saw wizards hurrying towards Kingscross.

It was late in the afternoon when he reached Surrey. He stopped the car at number 4, Privet drive. He knocked on the door and Vernon Dursley opened it wincing at him.

“Where’s Dudley?” He asked furiously.

“I will take you to him, you have to leave this place.” Ron said and he let himself in, as Vernon moved away from him.

“Please treat this as your own house,” Vernon cried sarcastically. He closed the door and followed Ron upstairs. Petunia called out to him as Ron entered the room without so much as a knock.

“Vernon! Vernon!” She hollered. “You can’t come to our house dressed that way and barge in like you’re a guest, the neighbors are going to suspect we’re dealing with…”

“I’m taking you to see Dudley, now grab everything that’s of any value to you and follow me.” Ron ordered.

Somehow the tone of his voice told them that something terrible was about to happen and so they followed. Vernon though kept muttering to himself while Petunia told him that odd things were all over the news since last night.

“I think it’s serious, Vernon,” She whispered. “We might as well follow, we’ll get to see Dudley and he’ll let us go.”

Ron took all of Archers things and even placed the faded blue overall that had belonged to Harry among Archer’s shirts. Then he carefully carried his son and he went downstairs where Vernon and Petunia waited with a large bag on the floor.

“That’s too much,” Ron said.

“Well, we have a lot of valuables.” Vernon pouted.

“Suit yourself, you’ll leave that behind later on anyway.” Ron grunted.

Then he opened the door and went outside, the Dursley’s followed him and they were about to open the car door when they saw that Ron was walking down the streets with all their neighbors gapping at him.

“Where are we going?” Vernon asked.

“Leave the car and Follow me! Nasty stupid gits!” Ron said in exasperation.

Soon they were nearing Arabella’s house and before they could knock Rio had opened the door. When he saw the Dursley’s he looked at Ron and nodded then he moved out of the way, and they all went in.

“I knew you’d bring them, it’s been all over the news.” Rio informed him.

Arabella was sitting in front of the T.V. with Dudley beside her. He was no longer gagged though his hands were still tied behind his back. The minute he saw his parents he cried out to them and they ran towards him, checking him to see if he was harmed.

“Is this your son?” Arabella said hobbling over to see the small thing Ron carried. “He looks like you! Though his eyes are clearly Harry’s.”

“Harry’s? What do you mean by it?” Petunia asked. “Do you mean that child is Harry’s?”

Ron looked at her and though no words were spoken she got her answer. Vernon though was trying to catch up with the conversation and looked stupidly befuddled.

Rio decided to interrupt the exchange of meaningful glares between Ron and Petunia, for the sun was setting and soon night will be upon them.

“Ron, the Lycans are moving towards this area. Based on the reports from the TV, they’ll be here by tonight. We have to leave. Have you found a way to Hogwarts?”

“No! All the portals have been sealed. We have to stay here for the night.” Ron answered.

“Lycans?” Vernon asked.

“Werewolves.” Rio translated.

Petunia cried in terror and hugged Dudley tighter.

“What? You’ve brought those monsters here!” Vernon cried.

Ron ignored him and walked towards the bedroom and placed Archer down slowly on Arabella’s bed. He then moved around the house checking every corner.

“We have to seal this house. I’ll try my luck with the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning.”

“Ministry of Magic…werewolves…” Vernon mumbled.

“The Ministry? Ron, that is suicide.” Rio said.

“Let’s go Petunia, we might as well leave this lot to continue with their madness.” Vernon blabbered continuously. “Petunia, are you listening to me? Come on Dudley,”

“Dad,”

“Vernon, sit down,” Petunia said softly.

“I have to get to Hogwarts before Sunday, Rio, they left me with no other choice. They have all the keys to the doors,” Ron was steadily getting annoyed with the sound of Vernon’s voice. He was trying so hard to control his anger but now he was beginning to regret why he ever considered saving these people.

“What about that place you mentioned before, the Headquarters of the Order…” Rio suggested.

“I don’t know how to get there. My dad always brought us there,” Ron explained but his voice could hardly be heard because Vernon was now talking loudly, trying his patience.

“You folks will hear from the authorities! This is abduction! Come on Petunia we have to leave!” Vernon blasted. When Petunia motioned for him to keep quiet because Ron was now looking at him dangerously, Vernon decided to be brave and approached them, then in his most business-like manner said, “You there! We’re taking Dudley with us now, you will hear from my lawyer about this, and…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Ron had pressed a dagger on his throat.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UUUPPP!” cried Ron breathing hard, Rio was fast enough to restrain his arm as the sharp blade made a mark upon Vernon’s fat neck. Petunia cried in horror and Dudley pleaded with Ron.

“Ron, don’t! Sir, Mr. Dursley, I think it will be better for all of us if you kept quiet and sat beside your wife.” Rio instructed.

Vernon quickly followed covering his neck with his hand. Petunia embraced him tightly, sobbing terribly in her fright.

Ron lowered his trembling hand. “I could have left you both in your house you know! But I figured Dudley wouldn’t do well without parents!”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asked though now his tone of voice was submissive.

“There are werewolves in London, you idiot! They are here and they’re coming towards this neighborhood.” Ron said slowly. “Don’t make me change my mind, Dursley! These beings are not as forgiving as I! They would gnaw your bones before your very eyes! If you want that, it can be arranged! You can go back to your fucking house, and die for all I care!”

“We’re—we’re sorry! Please forgive my husband! We didn’t know!” Petunia begged.

Ron brushed his hair. “I don’t want to hear another squeak from you, alright?”

Vernon nodded rapidly, closing his eyes tightly. Petunia and Dudley nodded as well. Ron then conjured a spell to free Dudley from the magical ropes. Dudley massaged his wrists then stood, Petunia tugged his shirt asking him to sit down. Dudley brushed her hand off and continued walking towards Ron who was in the kitchen looking for boards to use.

“I—I want to help,” Dudley said weakly.

Ron looked at him and after a while nodded and asked him to find a hammer and some nails. Soon all three of them were pounding on every window and every door, shutting it close with large boards. Arabella watched curiously as the three young men break her furniture and nail it to the windows and doors. Some of the neighbors followed suit and Ron was a bit relieved that they did, though he knew if these beasts attacked, the boards would not hold them back for long. But it was better than no defense at all.

Ron had shut the power switch and only the fire at the hearth provided the light for the whole house. He had instructed Petunia to carry Archer and guard him with her life. She and Arabella were inside the bedroom while Dudley and Vernon were at the door armed with a butcher’s knife and an old ax. Rio was nearby in the kitchen, while Ron guarded the front door.

They didn’t have to wait long; at around nine o’clock Ron heard a sniffing and growling sound outside and saw the shadow of a large Lycan near the window. Then they heard the screaming from the other houses and knew that the attack has begun. Ron felt his heart sink as he heard the sound of children and women crying out for help. He couldn’t save them, and soon the cries died down and another section of the neighborhood was filled with terrified screams.

The sounds of the attack were getting fainter and fainter and Ron lowered his sword thinking the Lycans have moved on. But just then the window beside him shattered and in came a large Lycan. The werewolf pinned him against the door, holding his hand and neck. Ron kicked him hard on the chest and though he pried him off, the beast was able to go back and hit him hard. Ron was thrown against the piano that broke with his weight. The Lycan moved in on him but stopped dead when a Sai had hit its neck. It fell on its knees, sputtering blood all over the floor. Ron stood and hacked its head with his sword. But now another Lycan had made its way inside through the window in the kitchen and Rio was having a hard time fending him off.

Ron ran towards them just as another one barged in through the bedroom window. Vernon and Dudley were screaming now and so did Petunia though Ron could see her protectively covering Archer’s face with her hands.

Ron threw his Sai towards the Lycan in the room and hit its hind legs. Then he moved in to finish him but another one jumped him from behind – there were now about four werewolves inside the house, and Ron and Rio were the only ones fighting them off. Ron was struggling to get to his feet but the Lycan on top of him held him tightly and was now about to bite his face. Ron was able to free his right hand, grabbed his dagger and stabbed it on the Lycan’s neck then slowly moved the blade across, feeling every single vein and cartilage break as the sharp edge cut through. The beast fell on top of him and he shoved him to the side, then he took his sword and cleaved the head off the other before getting his Sai off its leg.

Ron was drenched in blood and so was Rio who was able to kill the two Lycans that attacked him.

“You alright?” Ron asked looking at the Dursley’s that were trembling in fear.

Suddenly Arabella cried out, “I’ve got it!” She took out the theatre ticket from her pocket and waved it in front of her.

“No Mrs. Figg! Don’t!” Ron cried, but just then two more werewolves came in.

“Ron behind you!” Rio cried.

Ron reeled and the Lycan had jumped him and tried biting at his uniform. Though the fangs could not penetrate the material Ron could still feel the pressure of the sharp teeth grinding his arm. He took out his Sai and pierced the head of the Lycan on top of him. The beast howled in pain, Ron was then able to move his limbs and he kicked the beast off of him. As he turned he saw the Dursley’s holding onto Arabella who was holding the ticket and saying something. Ron knew she had remembered how to use the ticket, and before he could stop her, she had activated the Portkey. A blinding flash of light filled the room and when it was gone, so were Mrs. Figg, Archer, and the Dursleys.

“NOOOO!! ARCHER!!” Ron cried. The werewolf on the floor grabbed hold of his ankle and was now pulling him. Ron took out his wand and cried, “EXPELLIARMUS!” The beast was torn from him, hurled against the wall that collapsed on impact.

Ron ran towards the corner where Arabella stood and found the ticket. He took it and placed it inside a pocket in his cloak. Rio went inside the room and saw that the Lycan was still alive; he went to it and slashed its head off.

“Where did they go?” Rio asked heaving. He was also covered in blood.

Ron shook his head in disbelief. “They’ve got my son! They’re gone, and they’ve got Archer!”

Ron walked around the house and tried to activate the ticket. After several hours he gave up. He sat in front of the fireplace --the only thing inside the house that was still intact—and began cursing his luck.

Rio walked towards him wiping his face with a wet towel. “Ron we have to leave. That ticket brought them to safety. The old Lady had been playing with it all day, and she told me what it was supposed to do. We on the other hand need to find a way to Hogwarts.” But Rio could see that Ron was in terrible shock. He has never looked more horrified as he did now. “Ron, they could be in Hogwarts…”

Ron looked at him then at the ticket—he shook his head slowly, trying to understand why he was having such an ill fate. Then he scanned the house; it was a pile of rubble much like his courage and his optimism.

“You’re still not thinking of going back to the Ministry are you?” Rio asked.

For a while Ron did not answer, his mind was reeling right now and though he heard Rio, he could barely comprehend the question.

“Ron,” Rio sat beside him and looked into his eyes. “We will find them. They were taken to safety. You have to keep yourself together, Archer and Harry are counting on you.”

Ron looked at him, though his eyes seemed to recognize the Knight, his mind was slowly deteriorating that it was a difficult task to try and organize his thoughts. But hearing the names of his family – the people he will give his life to protect – were slowly binding his thoughts again so that now his tired wits slowly assesed the situation and he was able to nod.

“Ron, I am here, and I will help you all the way, man. Alright? Where do we go?” Rio asked slowly.

Ron swallowed hard, and took the wet towel from Rio and cleaned his shaking hands, and then wiped his face. He winced as the water made his wounds sting. “I don’t know where else to go.”

Rio thought for a moment. “Don’t you have a way to Hogwarts in your house?”

Ron tried to look back, back when he was still in the Burrow, in the safety of their home. Then he remembered the floo channel. “There is. But they might still be watching the house,” he said weakly.

“But a few wizards will be easier to face than a whole horde of them. If we go to the Ministry, we’re as sure as dead or captured. We might as well risk your house, by this time those wizards might have left.”

Ron considered the suggestion; Rio had a point-- by now the Ministry wizards know that he is near London, trying to find a way to get to the magical world. They wouldn’t expect him to go back to the Burrow.

He decided to do it and soon he and Rio were on a cab on their way to the train station.


(*for those who want to see Ron's Dream - please read HPNSA-Appendix A - In Dreams - Orion)