Who Killed Ronald Weasley?

The Final Chapter
By SeparatriX, CV, Calanthe, Sbkar, Loui, Sevfan, DracosMinx, Threesisters, Scully, Lightgoddess and Wolfiekins.


“Hello, I would appreciate some tea and a slice of cake home-made this time. Hello, Hello…” the cracked old voice reverberated in the stillness of emptying cells.

---

Boadicea Basher sat at her desk rereading the Granger confession. Leaning back, she pulled a small picture from her cloak pocket. It showed a vivacious girl, draped over her shy boyfriend. Reaching into a large drawer, she pulled out a half-full bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey and took a drink directly from the bottle.

Lorelei MacClaggan had been her favourite niece, so much in love with the florist, Neville Longbottom, that she’ confided her plans for asking the young man to marry her – it was a given since he was so unassuming, that she’d need to do the asking. She’ even got Boadicea to arrange a romantic get-away for them in Muggle London. She’d been so close to leaving the ugly lifestyle behind, cleaning up her future for Neville. Until Ronald bloody Weasley

Closing her eyes, she let a few tears leak past her lashes, mourning the little girl she’d watch grow up, and the young woman who loved shy Longbottom so very much. The least she could do is keep his name out of the report. There was no direct evidence he got the hemlock into the bastard’s gullet! Hell, there was no evidence the damned soul didn’t do it to himself when it came down to it! He was ingesting everything but glue before he died.

Closing the Granger confession, Auror Basher thought back over the suspects she’d interviewed or observed. She’d be seeing a few of them soon on other matters, but, she’d make damned certain Neville never saw their offices again, if just for Lorelei. She was disturbed by a knock at the door; it was Smith, flanked either side by the two Ghost Hunters, with Creevey bringing up the rear.

“We’re ready, ma’am,” muttered Smith. Looking down the line of cells, Basher turned to a cell attendant and matter-of-factly said, “Let the listed Weasley suspects go, and make sure that the path to the car is clear. It’s looking like a circus out there.”

---

Blaise Zabini was first out of the Ministry, bumping straight into Anita Scribe on his way out.

“Blaise Zabini, Anita Scribe, Daily Prophet. Do you mind if I ask you some questions? I won’t take up too much time,” she simpered.

“Miss Scribe, I really cannot stop. I have a very important date, but could offer you a private audience at a later date, I’m sure.”

“Ooh, Mr Zabini, you have me quite undone, I will have to hold you to that.” Flashing Scribe his trademark perfect white smile, he placed a card with his address on and walked off through the crowd to his no doubt hot date. Scribe fanned herself with her Dicta-Quill, awaiting the next of the murder suspects to appear. When they did, Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy exited together; Lucius Disapparating out of the way as quickly as the fresh air touched his skin. Severus Snape was not so quick to affect his escape.

“Professor Snape! This way, please!” shouted Anita Scribe, waving her arm frantically to attract the man’s attention.

“What do you want?” replied Snape coldly.

“Would you care to comment on reports that Hermione Granger has been charged in connection with the murder of Ronald Weasley?”

“I most certainly would not,” replied Severus as he strode away.

Grabbing Snape’s arm, Scribe tried again, “Please, sir, if you could give us just a minute? My readers…”

“Be damned!” Fixing the woman with a glare that would make any sane witch or wizard tremble, he said in a dangerous tone, “I will thank you to remove your hand from my sleeve…if you know what is good for you.”

Anita pulled her hand back as if it had been scalded. “Um, yes, please forgive me. Do you think that Miss Granger acted in self-defence or that perhaps it was vengeance?”

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If, I’ll repeat, if she is guilty of the crime, I can assure you that it was committed in self-defence. A highly intelligent young woman such as Auror Granger would never kill someone in cold blood. There had to be mitigating circumstances.”

“And those circumstances would be…?”

“Confidential.”

Realising that Snape was not about to give up the information he obviously had, Anita changed her line of questioning. “Can you comment on how the loss of such a popular figure will affect the wizarding community?”

“It will not change one whit in my life; therefore, the question is irrelevant.”

“Bastard!” thought Anita. “I see. Perhaps then you might enlighten our readers on another matter?”

“What would that be?” asked Snape impatiently.

“Why was it that Inspector Basher thought that you might be the killer?”

Severus was taken aback at the woman’s cheek. “Surely you jest?”

“Not at all. We would all love to know the reasons behind your arrest,” she answered.

The corner of Severus’ mouth turned up slightly. “Yes, I am quite sure you would, you moronic twat,” he said with a smirk as he Disapparated away.

“Damn!” exclaimed Anita. “That was a waste of time. And I didn’t even get to ask him what he was going to first when he got home!” Looking up, she saw another victim. “Quick! There’s Draco Malfoy. Is the Quill still on? Good.”

Putting her self in the young blond’s way, she began her harangue, “Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy! Would you care to comment on reports that Auror Hermione Granger has been charged in connection with the murder of Ronald Weasley?”

Arm firmly around Harry’s waist to keep him close and moving – he had never learned the art of constant motion while trying not to hex irritating reporters – Draco was pleased to see the irritating little mole of a Prophet reporter take a literal step back as he allowed the full weight of the withering Malfoy stare to fall upon them. His childhood lessons did come in handy for situations like these.

“Not particularly,” drawled Draco, “but, as I am sure your readers will not be satisfied with that as an answer, let me simply say that I am surprised and saddened that such a pillar of the community – and acknowledged war hero – could possibly have committed such an act.” More to the point, I am impressed. I had no idea Granger had that level of vindictiveness in her Mudblood head. Not that I am going to tell you that.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you care to comment on what reasons Inspector Basher might have had for considering you a suspect in the killing? She did arrest you, after all.”

Oh, there is no way you are getting away with that one! If you are still in your job three months from now, I am going to be very disappointed with myself. “The Inspector did her usual thorough job. Ronald Weasley had a negative impact on many lives, mine included. Any motivation, however small, needs to be considered in such a serious crime. I would have been more shocked if I, and the other innocent suspects, had not been arrested. The truth was always on our side. Each of us who were innocent had that knowledge to sustain us. That and the fact that the Aurors would leave no stone unturned in finding the true culprit.”

“Can you comment on what the loss of such a popular figure will have on the wizarding community?”

Draco sighed. He looked round as Harry snuggled into his side a little closer. Partly for the watching crowd of gawkers and reporters – but mainly because he truly wanted to – Draco pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Harry’s temple before replying.

“I honestly don’t know. Those of us that went to school with her or fought in the war with her will remember her intelligence, her caring, and her courage. The Aurors will miss a truly gifted colleague, I am sure. Having said that, if she killed a man… her former fiancé… then that is not the act of a stable mind. Her reasons will no doubt come out at her trial. Should she be found guilty of this crime, I trust that work will be done to heal and rehabilitate her so that she can take her place as a productive member of the community again.” Sometimes the amount of pretentious drivel that can come out of my mouth impresses even me, thought Draco, as he watched the smiling face of the reporter realising they had a hook for their article.

“Do you think that Miss Granger acted in self-defence or was she acting on some deep-seated vengeance? Please be aware that all your answers are being recorded for the Daily Prophet Archives.”

“I was as surprised as anyone to find out the identity of the person the Aurors had arrested and formally charged with this crime. I would not care to speculate as to the particulars of why the crime was committed. That is for the legal professionals to prove or disprove, and I will not comment further.”

“Now that your ordeal is over, what will you do first when you get home?”

Draco allowed his gaze to fall on Harry’s solemn face before meeting the reporter’s inquiring gaze once again. With a wry grin, Draco said, “Well, as silly as it seems to say it, I’m taking Harry and myself home and we’re going to have a nice, quiet dinner at home. The food served to guests of the Ministry’s Auror division – especially those residing in their holding cells – leaves quite a bit to be desired.”

The reporter smiled and even Harry let out a little chuckle. Draco smiled politely at the reporter. What he had said was not a lie. He was taking Harry home. They were going to have dinner at some point. More to the point, they were going to have to talk about Ron… and Snape. Things could not go on the way they had been doing.”

“Thank you for answering my questions.”

“That is quite all right,” said Draco with the patented and imperious Malfoy public graciousness to lesser beings. “I understand that the general public is very curious about this entire sorry affair.”

“However, if you will excuse us, both Harry and I have had a very trying couple of days, and I would like to get us home soon.”

---

The crowd surged on both sides of the steps, while several reporters from The Daily Prophet, WWN, and a few lesser known Wizarding media outlets jockeyed for position. Anita Scribe of The Prophet had cornered a rather nervous looking Neville Longbottom as he had attempted to make a discreet escape from the building. The reporter had the stuttering Wizard backed up against the brick wall and was questioning him mercilessly.

“Neville! Over here, Neville. Anita Scribe, Daily Prophet: Can you comment on reports that Hermione Granger has been charged in connection with the murder of Ronald Weasley?”

Hermione Granger, is a lovely young woman, who, when I knew her, would never have hurt a fly. I can only assume that what she endured at Ron\'s hands was so horrible, so awful that it completely changed her personality.

“Thank you, and can you tell me why Inspector Basher thought that you were the killer, she did arrest you after all did she not?”

No. We were not arrested. We were merely held for questioning. As to why I was detained, I can only assume that she was following all possible leads.

Can you comment on what the loss of such a popular figure will have on the wizarding community?

Those who knew him will alternately miss him, and feel relieved that his suffering and the suffering of those around him is over.

Do you think that Miss Granger acted in self-defence or was she acting on some deep seated vengeance? Please be aware that all your answers are being recorded for the Daily Prophet Archives,” the bored tone of voice showed how many times she’d asked the question.

Basher strode through the doors at this exact moment, flanked by Zacharias Smith and Colin Creevey. Behind the trio, a pair of Ghost Hunters followed closely. Basher clutched a small glass orb in her long slender fingers. The orb was the size of a Bludger, transparent and filled with a swirling green gas. Bright orange sparks of light exploded inside the orb, as if something were attempting to escape.

The crowd surged towards the Auror and her entourage, some spectators jumping up and down, waving hand-lettered signs for the cameras. Creevey and Smith pulled in close to Basher as their pathway down the stairs narrowed quickly. Longbottom had finally broken away from Scribe, and was stumbling down the steps, rapidly closing on the ghost hunters. The Aurors appeared to be winning in their battle with the surging crowd, successfully managing to widen the pathway down the stairs once more. Basher glanced side to side, and made a dash down the granite stairs, pulling away from her group. Her Ministry limousine sat idling at the curb, not twenty feet away.

Just then, a cloaked figure broke through from the crowd. A wand whipped out from under the black robes, pointing straight at Basher. The Auror reacted almost immediately, managing to erect her Shield Charm the instant the Unforgivable hit her in a blaze of angry, green energy. Basher stumbled backward, crashing into Creevey, whose wand was now pointed at the Assassin, his advantage of surprise was now lost. Several other Aurors, Smith included, were now cursing him, and in a matter of seconds, the cloaked figure stiffened and fell to the ground. The crowd went wild, surging in all directions, and an already shaky Basher lost her grip on the orb.

It fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. There was a blinding flash as the emerald gases were released. A violent gust of wind whipped up and out, and the din of the mob subsided enough for a maniacal laugh to be heard plainly. The gases coalesced into a vaguely human form and rushed through the air, swirling about the head of a terrorized Longbottom. The laughing continued as the miasma of gasses solidified into the form of a manically grinning Ron Weasley, his dead eyes wild. The spectre put his translucent hands on Longbottom\'s shoulders.

\"You poisoned me, you sneaky little bastard! You put hemlock in that coffee at The Leaky Cauldron! If that fucking bitch Granger hadn\'t strangled me, I\'d have been dead in an hour anyway! Murderer! Murderer!\" Ron\'s Ghost moved his hands to Neville\'s throat; Longbottom scrabbled at the spectral hands about his neck, unable to remove them.

Practically drooling, Anita Scribe had rushed over to the pair, her Dicta-Quill moving a mile a minute. \"Now what\'s this, Mr. Weasley? What about poison?\"

Ron turned to face the reporter, his face contorted in anger. \"Yeah, that\'s right, you bloodsucking slag! Longbottom poisoned me! She knows it!\" Ron removed one hand from Neville\'s neck to point it at Basher, who had managed to pull herself up the steps. She was standing a few feet away, again flanked by Smith and Creevey. The Ghost Hunters were slowly circling around the little group, getting into position. The camera man from Wiz TV had arrived, and Creevey was snapping away, the shutter of his camera clicking non-stop.

Scribe moved right next to Ron. \"What do you mean, Mr. Weasley? You indicate that Chief Inspector Boadicea Basher knows about this alleged poisoning?\"

Ron grinned, nodding slightly. He still held Neville with one hand, pointing and gesturing with the other.\"Yeah, there was a little séance in Scrimgeour\'s office. Sybil Trelawney summoned me, and I told my story. There should be a transcript somewhere!\"

Scribe shot Basher a look, and the Auror grudgingly nodded in the affirmative. The Ghost Hunters had positioned themselves on either side of Ron\'s phantom. Scribe turned back to Weasley.

\"So you testified that you were poisoned? Why has this information been held back by The Ministry?\"

Ron snorted. \"Because this is a sordid little affair, Madame Scribe. I was a nasty bastard. But I didn\'t deserve to be murdered. They\'re trying to hide all the nasty little details. About Granger, and her sexual liaisons with Zabini. She was pregnant. But it wasn\'t mine! They\'re trying to hide Lucius Malfoy\'s drug deals out of his club, Echelon. They\'re trying to hide the fact that Severus Snape was a major supplier of those drugs. They\'re trying to hide the fact that Longbottom\'s dead girlfriend was a drug dealer as well. And that she was Basher\'s niece! You can verify all of this, Madame Scribe! They\'re blaming all of this on me, and sweeping it under the rug! Check it all out! You\'ll see!\" the phantasm shrieked.

The crowd began to surge once more, and Basher nodded to the Ghost Hunters, who began to chant their incantations. Ron whipped around; his transparent face now a mask of pain.

\"I demand justice! Murderers shouldn’t be allowed to walk free! Let the truth be told! May Granger and Longbottom rot in Azkaban! Azkaban! Murderers to Azkaban!\" Ron\'s voice ended abruptly in a wail of pain as his spectral form collapsed upon itself, shrinking and compacting as the magic of the Ghost Hunters captured his energy once more. One of the Hunters pulled the shrinking green cloud towards him, his hands working and compressing it into a tight ball. With a final incantation, there was a loud crack, and Ron\'s spectral energy was once again encased in an orb. The Hunter offered it to Basher, who grabbed it and turned to stride down the steps a second time. Anita Scribe was right behind her.

\"Auror Basher! How do you respond to these accusations? Why has the public heard none of this? What is the Ministry trying to hide?\"

Basher whirled around to face the reporter. Smith and Creevey made to pull Scribe away, but the Chief Auror motioned for them to let her remain.

\"This is a very sensitive case, Ms. Scribe. Many notable wizarding families are involved. I see no reason to have their good names dragged through the dirt just to sell papers!\" She drew herself up, but Scribe was undaunted. The crowd was cheering and jeering more loudly than ever. All of the cameras and Dicta-Quills were focused on Basher and Scribe.

\"As you say, Chief Investigator, many notable wizarding families are involved. But what of truth? What of justice? What of Ron Weasley? We must know what brought him to this unfortunate end! How could this have happened? Will you comment on the séance with Sybil Trelawney?\"

Basher closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. The gas in the orb was a green blur, orange flashes streaking away inside it. When she opened her eyes again, the crowd was nearly silent, punctuated only by the telltale sounds of camera shutters.

\"Sometimes the truth can do more harm than silence, Madame Scribe. By all means, submit a Freedom of Information request for the séance transcript. You shall have it in, oh, say, ten to twelve weeks.\" She grimaced at Scribe, who began to mouth another question. With a wave of her hand, Basher motioned to Smith and Creevey, and the two dragged the reporter away. A pair of other Aurors dragged the still-stunned attacker up the steps and into the Ministry. On the floor, kicked away from the scene, Basher was sure that she saw a business card that had fallen from the attacker\'s robes. The name on the card was Club Echelon.

“Murderer!” one of the crowds screamed at a visibly shaken Neville, slumped against the steps of the Ministry. Harry started to push through them to offer his friend support, Basher stood on impassively as Neville spoke up.

\"Have any of you ever been in love? Have any of you ever felt your whole world was wrapped up in the love and affection of just one person?

\"Lorelei was that person for me. She was the first person who truly saw me for me, not the bumbling idiot from school and not the worthless son of two great Aurors. She was everything to me. Her happiness was mine. Her pain was mine. And then Ron came to me one day and asked me to have Lorelei to sell drugs to her Muggle friends for him. Drugs? I asked him. Ron, you need to get out of doing drugs, not drag more people down with you. And especially not my Lorelei.”

Longbottom’s eyes were focused on the past. \"She was so sweet, so pure. How could someone who was my friend ask me to taint her with his poison? So I told him ‘no’. I said I wouldn\'t ask her and that I hoped he respected me enough not to go behind my back and ask. He didn\'t ask her. He did worse. So much worse. He found her at a Muggle friend\'s house. They were having a get-together. Ron caught Lorelei unaware and spiked her drink with Muggle drugs, enough to cause an overdose. They rushed her to the Muggle hospital…but they were too late. Ron punished me by killing the only woman I ever loved.”

Coming to himself, he scanned the quiet crowd, \"What would you have done? I tried. I truly tried to just honour her memory and let it go. I tried to make myself believe that he had nothing to do with it. That it was just a coincidence that Ron was there. That Ron was laughing and talking to her. That only 10 minutes after being with Ron, Lorelei was seizing on the floor for some reason other than Ron putting drugs in her drink…But I knew…I knew that I was wrong.” Straightening up, he addressed Inspector Basher, “I knew Ron was the reason. And I couldn\'t let it go. I just couldn\'t. They just called it an overdose by a drug addict. But she wasn\'t an addict! And Ron was getting away with out punishment for killing her.” The scritch of quills against parchment were the only sounds as he continued.

\"So, I decided to make a last effort to prove to myself once and for all if Ron were capable of doing something like this. I asked him to coffee. He was so harsh, so hateful to me the whole time we sat together. He ignored half of what I had to say, and sneered at the other half. If I hadn\'t known it was Ron, I would never have recognized the man I was sitting across from me.

\"And I knew. I knew that whereas the old Ron…my friend…would never have murdered my Lorelei. That this man…this monster could have…and that this fiend was going to get away with it. I couldn\'t deal with that.” He gulped in air as he outlined his plan, “I had brought a packet of hemlock with me, just in case. And when he sneered at me and turned to watch some pretty witch who walked in, I dumped it in his coffee. He finished the cup and brushed me off, leaving the Inn. I followed him. He went to Club Echelon through that damnable back door…his drug-dealing door. I knew that when the hemlock kicked in that he\'d fall unconscious. He staggered and fell to the ground in the alleyway just before getting to the door. I made him comfortable, tucked him up against the wall just outside the door so that he would be found later. And I watched his eyes close. I knew it wouldn\'t be long after that that he would be gone. So, I left. I went home.” Anita Scribe’s shark-like smile flashed as he finished his confession.

\"I regret Ron Weasley\'s death, just as I regret the death of my Lorelei. Ron murdered Lorelei, and I made sure that he paid for his crime. I loved Lorelei. And, though some of you may understand, I loved Ron as well. He had been my friend. And I couldn\'t let him continue ruining lives, his own life, and his own soul. Not when I could do something about it.”

Basher stepped into the waiting limousine with Ron’s orb clutched tightly to her chest. The heavy rear door slammed shut, closing out the sound of angry onlookers. She nestled down into the opulent leather seat, carefully placing the orb on the upholstery next to her. The green mists swirled and twisted angrily inside of the glass sphere.

The driver honked the horn once, and the huge car glided silently away from the Ministry, easily entering traffic. \"Home, Madame?\" The driver looked at her in the rear view.

Basher smiled. \"Yes, Ben. Home.\" The driver nodded, accelerating expertly through the congested lanes.

Basher rested her hand on the orb, gently running her fingers over its slightly warm surface. \"Justice. Indeed.\"

Meanwhile, in the furthest cell from the attendant’s room, an old and angry witch was getting most upset at not being attended for quite some time.

“Is anybody going to bring me some bloody cake?”