Merlin's tits! Why did I come here?!
Ron froze seeing his older brother. "Shouldn't you be with Mum and Dad? At the safe house?"
"Moody called me back. They needed trusted hands in the Ministry. What about you? Why aren't you at the school?" Percy asked him back, scrutinizing his strange clothing that looked quite dirty.
Ron couldn't possibly tell him about his secret business so he changed the topic. "I came here to see Moody. What about you? How's everything going on? When are you marrying Clearwater?"
Ugh, you dumbass. Who asks so directly? He's gonna be suspicious now.
"What? Why would I marry her?"
"Because… you're dating her?"
Percy scoffed and folded his arms. "No, I'm not. That obnoxious, needy girl! She demanded that I be more like you and the twins. She said I'm no fun and… forget it. We broke up just before finishing Hogwarts. And why are you even bringing that up?"
Thank you! Thank you, Merlin! I'll stop cursing your tits from now on.
"Nothing. Just saw her at Diagon Alley before coming here. Anyway, I gotta go." Ron picked up his bag and walked into Moody's room to avoid Percy. Although he wasn't called in, he turned the doorknob and walked right into it.
Before Moody's real eye could, his fake one moved and glared at him.
"I didn't call you in yet, Weasley."
"I know, but I'm in a rush." Ron shrugged, noticing there was only Shacklebolt and another ministry worker from a different department in the room.
At Moody's gesture, the third person was sent away. Shacklebolt was in on the whole plan, so the man remained behind to see what Ron wanted to say.
"Is this place secure? Can anyone from the outside listen to us?" Ron asked them.
Moody huffed and waved his wand. "Not anymore."
Ron scratched his head and threw down the bag he was carrying. "That's Fenrir Greyback in there. Had to go into the Forbidden Forest and hunt him down, didn't I? Bit of a nasty business, that. Anyway, they're planning something on the eighteenth of June."
Eyes agape, the two Aurors looked at each other's faces for a moment. Then, they looked at the bag and finally digested the information.
"You… went alone?" Shacklebolt asked.
Ron nodded. "Of course."
"Of course, he says," Moody growled, a rough chuckle escaping as he settled back in his chair, his magical eye spinning wildly. "Eighteenth of June, is it? That'll give us something to work with, alright. I'll have someone collect the body and see to it the papers get a proper story."
"Don't do that! Not until after the attack. Fenrir's a wild one, sure, and nobody's going to miss him if he vanishes, but if he ends up dead, that'll set off the Dark Lord. We've got to play dumb until we've won." He paused, having thought about this plenty. "Let's not mess this up now."
"He's right." Shacklebolt agreed. "Knowing the date gives us the upper hand. We can't afford to tip off the Dark Lord or his hidden allies within the Ministry, so we keep things business as usual. No sudden moves."
"Constant vigilance, huh?" Moody looked annoyed as if the opportunity to boast about Ron in the papers was more important than finding the Dark Lord. "Let's do that then."
"Great! I'll head back to school tonight." Ron said and turned around to leave. "See you on the date."
Thud!
Shacklebolt frowned. "How will he join the battle when he's in Hogwarts?"
"He'll find a way. Tough kid, that one," Moody blurted as if a matter of fact and got to work. "Enough chit-chat, let's get moving. Open the bag. I never did get a proper look at Fenrir's mangy mug before."
####
Ron left the Ministry as secretly as he could and soon stood in front of the Bones family mansion. Just informing Moody wasn't enough in his book. He needed the support and the understanding of the woman he could truly trust.
So, he went ahead and knocked on the old wooden doors. Surprisingly, it opened on its own with magic.
He had been there before so he walked the known corridor and entered the main living hall of the house. He could smell the scent of baby powder in the air and smiled at the sight of the cradle placed near the couch.
"Good morning, Amelia," he greeted the figure reclining on the couch. Surprisingly, she seemed to have returned to her work mode. Her dress was a modest gown with a thin strap that held a cut on her neck that went to her waist, probably for nursing. Her hair cut short once again, and the reading glasses on her charming face.
Amelia looked at him and removed her glasses. She checked out his clothes from head to toe and narrowed her eyes at the little hint of blood stains. "What did you do?"
"I…" Ron scratched his head. "I went hunting."
"Who?"
She didn't even ask what. Is my reputation that bad?
"Fenrir Greyback," he grunted, eyes locked. Before she could so much as blink, he pressed on. "I caught him, dead to rights. Took him down myself. Reported straight to Moody and delivered the body, no loose ends."
Amelia said nothing for a long time. She folded her arms under her bust and just sat there, looking at him.
Am I fucked?
"Are you hurt?"
Maybe not..?
"Not a scratch!" He proudly replied.
But Amelia frowned at his proud smile. "Are you senile?"
Perhaps I am fucked…
"Not at all."
"Then why go after him? Alone, I presume. He was responsible for causing the most infections in the last few years," Amelia said and glanced at the cradle. She lowered her voice. "What if—"
"But it's done." Ron interrupted her. "I killed him and now I know when they'll make a move. The exact date, Amelia."
"Take a seat."
"Yes." He stiffly walked over to the couch and sat beside her, maintaining a professional distance between their bodies. "I made sure I was ready before going in, Amelia. Gosh, it was almost too easy to take him down. That's what really threw me off."
"Shhh~" Amelia suddenly stopped him.
Next thing Ron knew, her strong hand reached for his shoulder and pulled him down. He felt his head land gently on her lap, and all he could do was admire her elegant face. She never showed emotions openly, and she didn't do it now either. But something told him he already knew what was hidden behind that cold look.
"Ron." Amelia's thin fingers combed through his overgrown red hair. Her other hand patted on his chest as if trying to make him fall asleep. "Do you know how many people I have killed in my entire career?"
That question threw him off. Like a lifeless doll, he laid there straight, unmoving, head on her soft flesh. He didn't blink while looking at her as she matched his gaze. "I don't kno—"
"Three," She said and continued. "Do you know how many people Moody has killed in his career?"
Ron remained silent, too confused.
Amelia didn't waste words. "Five."
"He's great," Ron remarked.
Amelia shook her head. Suddenly, her brows creased together, a rare show of emotion. "You've killed twenty."
"Oh…" Ron felt his body feel a little heavier as if he relaxed completely. His thoughts trailed off to the many incidents. He did use powerful and deadly curses, after all. His weapons were the same. "That's… a lot."
"Ron, I still see their faces sometimes. Hear their last cries and pleas in my dreams. It's not easy to carry that weight, it stays with you forever."
Ron's eyes looked a little hollow at that moment. He chuckled self-depreciatingly and sat back up again. "I just don't think about it. Besides, none of them ever cry or plea against me. They just call me brat or… blood traitor."
"You haven't had the luxury to dwell on that. Once this is all over…" Amelia didn't finish her words and placed her hand over his, a quiet assurance, "When the dust settles, and it will; you know where to find me."
"I never knew you had this side," he chuckled, glancing at her face. "Honestly, I'm just a bit hacked off. I shouldn't have to do all this, should I? It's like… What's the point of the Ministry if it can't even do the basic stuff, like keeping wizards safe? Grindelwald ran circles around them, and now Vol—Dark Lord… Promise me that you will change it once this is over. Topple it and start anew."
"That's impossible, Ron. A lot of influential families have their interest—"
"Then use my name. If they don't play nice, I'll just call them out as blood supremacists and Death Eater scum, plain and simple. By the time they get to trial, their names will be muck. I'm too bloody famous and trusted these days, for some reason." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I've got Malfoy gold now and I can push more families to chip in. This is our shot, and if we don't take it now, we'll never get another one."
"How many more will die for that?" She asked him.
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