HP Fic: Castling
(Backdated)
Castling by durendal [June 2002]
Summary: Passive-Aggressiveness 101. For Aja.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Something in the way Harry's white knight crumbled under his queen's scepter caused hesitation to wrap, snake-like, round Ron's spine.
"Check," he told Harry.
The door to their common room swung open. Hermione lugged a stack of tomes inside and to their table, setting the load down with a muffled bang. Harry and Ron looked up from their chess board just as Ron's rook sliced Harry's pawn in two. She looked pointedly at their game.
"Honestly, Ron," she scolded, "for someone trying to prove himself innocent you don't seem to be taking this seriously."
"I am serious," Ron said defensively. "Besides, you were locked up in the library. What else was I suppose to do?"
He couldn't tell Hermione he couldn't remember. It would be suspicious, or-- crazy. Harry heard snakes whispering in the pipes; Ron blanked out three days. Both accused of murder with only a few years in between. Quite a pair, they were.
She flipped through one of the larger books. "I remember reading something at the beginning of term," she said excitedly. "I should've recalled this before! We've got to find the answer -- I know you didn't do it." Her finger trailed down the page before resting on a large, curled 'T' trapped in a box.
"I found it!"
Ron sighed with relief. "Great, we'll tell Professor Dumbledore. This'll prove I didn't do it." He made a face. "I can't believe I have to show everyone I'm not a murder. I'd never kill anyone."
"We believe you," Harry said. "What did you find, Hermione?"
"'The Oratio potion is most often used for deciphering foreign tongues--'"
"We know that already!" Ron cut in. "Snape told us in class."
She silenced him with a withering glare. "'There are certain side effects of Oratio that depend solely on the addition of flowering Queen Anne's Lace. Dried Queen Anne's Lace will cause a violent reaction in the consumer of the potion. Side effects may include nausea, dementia, lapse of judgment, violence, headaches, drowsiness, and in some cases extreme memory loss. For these reasons, alternative spells are most often used in the place of Oratio.'" Hermione raised her head. "That's why we were to only use Snape's ingredients."
Ron's mind whirled. Potions that made people forget. He couldn't even recall making it -- he couldn't remember anything after his classes three days ago. But his stomach fluttered when he stared down at the crushed chess pieces.
"I don't think I want to remember," he whispered.
Harry and Hermione looked at him.
"Ron," Harry said quietly, "what did you forget?"
***
He could feel the eyes on him as they walked down the corridors.
"They're staring at me," Ron pointed out bitterly.
"Yeah," Harry said, "usually they're looking at me."
Ron snapped his mouth shut.
***
Ron sat in a plush, velvet chair, willing himself to keep breathing. Professor Snape circled Dumbledore's office like a hawk. His eyes, smudged black charcoals, glinted almost feverishly. His favourite student was dead, neck snapped like a twig.
Ron flinched at the underlying rage in Snape's voice. "You know why you're here."
Actually, he didn't. But there wasn't any reason for Ron to be worried; after all, he hadn't done anything more than talk to Malfoy. Only he was having a hard time remembering the last few days. He felt sluggish, his mind working too slow, like he was under water.
When he blinked, Snape was at his side. He looked down his long nose, and Ron suspected that if they were alone in the room, he would have been staring at the end of Snape's wand. "Professor Dumbledore, you know as well as I do it's a common fact Weasley and Malfoy hated each other."
"Of course I hated Malfoy," he said, confused.
"Then you admit you killed him!" Snape snarled.
Panic flared in Ron, but as soon as he took in Snape's curling sneer and Dumbledore's questioning expression, it was replaced with fury. He hadn't done anything; Snape just liked picking on the students he couldn't stand. He could never have-- have-- "Everyone hated him!" Ron yelled. "What makes you think I did it?"
Snape's pale face tightened in anger. "You threatened Malfoy publicly. We have witnesses who overheard your conversation, and several Slytherins have said Malfoy told them he was meeting you to work on your Potions project."
A hand on his shoulder, and Dumbledore was leaning over him, beard brushing the arm of the chair.
"Tell us what happened, Ron."
***
The alarm shrieked in his ear. Groaning, Ron rolled over and fumbled for the switch. But before he managed to find it, a hand reached out and turned the alarm off. Said hand then rested heavily on Ron's shoulder.
"I'm up, I'm up," he muttered.
"Ron!" Harry's voice.
He cracked open an eye and squinted up at his friend. Harry looked worried. "Why does my mouth taste funny?" he murmured.
The hand on his shoulder faltered. "You don't understand, you need to get up now."
Ron frowned and raised his head off the pillow. The room was empty save for the two of them, which was unusual. It looked like everyone had filed out in a rush. "What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.
"Malfoy was found dead this morning," Harry said quietly. "Strangled."
It took a few moments for Harry's words to sink in. Ron bolted upright. "He what?"
"Filch found his body in the dungeons."
Harry looked positively mournful. Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he said, "What are you so sad about? Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."
Shock coloured Harry's eyes, and Ron wondered if Harry had expected him to be upset. "No one deserves to die so young," Harry said stubbornly. "Especially not strangled by his own classmate."
Ron frowned. "How do you know it was by someone here?"
"Listen, you should know--"
***
He cradled Malfoy's body like a broken bird.
Then he dropped it and went to bed.
***
"I'm not drinking that," Malfoy sneered. "It's the wrong colour."
"It's not the wrong colour," Ron snapped, "you're just saying that because I did it."
"You botched it up. I can't believe I'm going to fail because of your stupidity."
He grabbed the beaker from Malfoy's hands. "I'll drink it if you're too bloody scared."
***
Ron looked over their list of ingredients. The classroom they had borrowed smelled earthy now, like a garden. Dirt and rain. "I think we have everything."
Malfoy pushed some of the weeds and animal parts aside. "What about the Queen Anne's Lace?"
"We don't have it?" He searched what they had laid out. When Malfoy shook his head, Ron cursed. "But Snape's class is locked at night."
Malfoy slid off his stool, sighing dramatically. "I know where to get it. Don't touch anything while I'm gone, Weasel."
***
"--Weasley and Malfoy," Snape said smugly. Ron paled and dared to take a look at Malfoy, who only looked disgusted. Revulsion wrinkled Ron's nose. "Granger and Potter."
"What is this?" Ron whispered angrily. Snape was so unfair. Harry shrugged, also looking a bit worried.
Snape bent towards them, smirking. "I'm breaking up the dream team a bit differently this time."
"Couldn't I at least have a partner who has talent?" Malfoy asked loudly, pale eyes gleaming with contempt. "Weasley has all the sharpness of a rubber ball." His Slytherin classmates sniggered with him.
Ron's ears burned. "You ars--" But Harry was pulling his arm, and Snape spun on his heel, dreary robes swelling out behind him. The Slytherins fell silent, waiting gleefully for Snape to punish him.
"Those of you who have partners, get back to your current assignment," Snape hissed, his gaze fixed on both Ron and Harry.
Ron stared down at his desk, still feelings the Slytherins' eyes on his back. Anger curled his hands into fists, straightened his back. He started crushing his rat's skull with the morter.
"One day that prat's going to get what's coming to him," he growled softly.
Castling by durendal [June 2002]
Summary: Passive-Aggressiveness 101. For Aja.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Something in the way Harry's white knight crumbled under his queen's scepter caused hesitation to wrap, snake-like, round Ron's spine.
"Check," he told Harry.
The door to their common room swung open. Hermione lugged a stack of tomes inside and to their table, setting the load down with a muffled bang. Harry and Ron looked up from their chess board just as Ron's rook sliced Harry's pawn in two. She looked pointedly at their game.
"Honestly, Ron," she scolded, "for someone trying to prove himself innocent you don't seem to be taking this seriously."
"I am serious," Ron said defensively. "Besides, you were locked up in the library. What else was I suppose to do?"
He couldn't tell Hermione he couldn't remember. It would be suspicious, or-- crazy. Harry heard snakes whispering in the pipes; Ron blanked out three days. Both accused of murder with only a few years in between. Quite a pair, they were.
She flipped through one of the larger books. "I remember reading something at the beginning of term," she said excitedly. "I should've recalled this before! We've got to find the answer -- I know you didn't do it." Her finger trailed down the page before resting on a large, curled 'T' trapped in a box.
"I found it!"
Ron sighed with relief. "Great, we'll tell Professor Dumbledore. This'll prove I didn't do it." He made a face. "I can't believe I have to show everyone I'm not a murder. I'd never kill anyone."
"We believe you," Harry said. "What did you find, Hermione?"
"'The Oratio potion is most often used for deciphering foreign tongues--'"
"We know that already!" Ron cut in. "Snape told us in class."
She silenced him with a withering glare. "'There are certain side effects of Oratio that depend solely on the addition of flowering Queen Anne's Lace. Dried Queen Anne's Lace will cause a violent reaction in the consumer of the potion. Side effects may include nausea, dementia, lapse of judgment, violence, headaches, drowsiness, and in some cases extreme memory loss. For these reasons, alternative spells are most often used in the place of Oratio.'" Hermione raised her head. "That's why we were to only use Snape's ingredients."
Ron's mind whirled. Potions that made people forget. He couldn't even recall making it -- he couldn't remember anything after his classes three days ago. But his stomach fluttered when he stared down at the crushed chess pieces.
"I don't think I want to remember," he whispered.
Harry and Hermione looked at him.
"Ron," Harry said quietly, "what did you forget?"
***
He could feel the eyes on him as they walked down the corridors.
"They're staring at me," Ron pointed out bitterly.
"Yeah," Harry said, "usually they're looking at me."
Ron snapped his mouth shut.
***
Ron sat in a plush, velvet chair, willing himself to keep breathing. Professor Snape circled Dumbledore's office like a hawk. His eyes, smudged black charcoals, glinted almost feverishly. His favourite student was dead, neck snapped like a twig.
Ron flinched at the underlying rage in Snape's voice. "You know why you're here."
Actually, he didn't. But there wasn't any reason for Ron to be worried; after all, he hadn't done anything more than talk to Malfoy. Only he was having a hard time remembering the last few days. He felt sluggish, his mind working too slow, like he was under water.
When he blinked, Snape was at his side. He looked down his long nose, and Ron suspected that if they were alone in the room, he would have been staring at the end of Snape's wand. "Professor Dumbledore, you know as well as I do it's a common fact Weasley and Malfoy hated each other."
"Of course I hated Malfoy," he said, confused.
"Then you admit you killed him!" Snape snarled.
Panic flared in Ron, but as soon as he took in Snape's curling sneer and Dumbledore's questioning expression, it was replaced with fury. He hadn't done anything; Snape just liked picking on the students he couldn't stand. He could never have-- have-- "Everyone hated him!" Ron yelled. "What makes you think I did it?"
Snape's pale face tightened in anger. "You threatened Malfoy publicly. We have witnesses who overheard your conversation, and several Slytherins have said Malfoy told them he was meeting you to work on your Potions project."
A hand on his shoulder, and Dumbledore was leaning over him, beard brushing the arm of the chair.
"Tell us what happened, Ron."
***
The alarm shrieked in his ear. Groaning, Ron rolled over and fumbled for the switch. But before he managed to find it, a hand reached out and turned the alarm off. Said hand then rested heavily on Ron's shoulder.
"I'm up, I'm up," he muttered.
"Ron!" Harry's voice.
He cracked open an eye and squinted up at his friend. Harry looked worried. "Why does my mouth taste funny?" he murmured.
The hand on his shoulder faltered. "You don't understand, you need to get up now."
Ron frowned and raised his head off the pillow. The room was empty save for the two of them, which was unusual. It looked like everyone had filed out in a rush. "What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.
"Malfoy was found dead this morning," Harry said quietly. "Strangled."
It took a few moments for Harry's words to sink in. Ron bolted upright. "He what?"
"Filch found his body in the dungeons."
Harry looked positively mournful. Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he said, "What are you so sad about? Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."
Shock coloured Harry's eyes, and Ron wondered if Harry had expected him to be upset. "No one deserves to die so young," Harry said stubbornly. "Especially not strangled by his own classmate."
Ron frowned. "How do you know it was by someone here?"
"Listen, you should know--"
***
He cradled Malfoy's body like a broken bird.
Then he dropped it and went to bed.
***
"I'm not drinking that," Malfoy sneered. "It's the wrong colour."
"It's not the wrong colour," Ron snapped, "you're just saying that because I did it."
"You botched it up. I can't believe I'm going to fail because of your stupidity."
He grabbed the beaker from Malfoy's hands. "I'll drink it if you're too bloody scared."
***
Ron looked over their list of ingredients. The classroom they had borrowed smelled earthy now, like a garden. Dirt and rain. "I think we have everything."
Malfoy pushed some of the weeds and animal parts aside. "What about the Queen Anne's Lace?"
"We don't have it?" He searched what they had laid out. When Malfoy shook his head, Ron cursed. "But Snape's class is locked at night."
Malfoy slid off his stool, sighing dramatically. "I know where to get it. Don't touch anything while I'm gone, Weasel."
***
"--Weasley and Malfoy," Snape said smugly. Ron paled and dared to take a look at Malfoy, who only looked disgusted. Revulsion wrinkled Ron's nose. "Granger and Potter."
"What is this?" Ron whispered angrily. Snape was so unfair. Harry shrugged, also looking a bit worried.
Snape bent towards them, smirking. "I'm breaking up the dream team a bit differently this time."
"Couldn't I at least have a partner who has talent?" Malfoy asked loudly, pale eyes gleaming with contempt. "Weasley has all the sharpness of a rubber ball." His Slytherin classmates sniggered with him.
Ron's ears burned. "You ars--" But Harry was pulling his arm, and Snape spun on his heel, dreary robes swelling out behind him. The Slytherins fell silent, waiting gleefully for Snape to punish him.
"Those of you who have partners, get back to your current assignment," Snape hissed, his gaze fixed on both Ron and Harry.
Ron stared down at his desk, still feelings the Slytherins' eyes on his back. Anger curled his hands into fists, straightened his back. He started crushing his rat's skull with the morter.
"One day that prat's going to get what's coming to him," he growled softly.