A Cure for Plague (PG; Ron, Harry, Luna, George, others, various implied relationships; 783 words)
Title: A Cure for Plague
Author:
iulia_linnea
Characters: Ron, Harry, Luna, George, others (various implied relationships)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 783
Summary: Auror Ronald Fucking Bilius Weasley's final mission is his most heroic.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Auror Weasley placed his wand against his neck, cast a silent Sonorous Charm, and began to speak.
"Prisoners of Azkaban! Prisoners of Azkaban, listen to me! My name is Ronald Weasley. I'm an Auror."
A rolling, cacophonous noise reached Ron's ears, almost as if it had crawled up the cold stones and clawed at his robes to do so. He shivered.
"I know you're ill," he continued. "I know the Healers came and went without helping you. I know, er, I know you're very angry about that."
The sound became at once angrier and frightened, but it lessened. They were waiting, hoping for help, were the prisoners.
Ron shivered again because he wasn't certain how long Harry and the others could hold back the Dementors, and not one of the Aurors who had accompanied him on this career-ending mission knew if the prisoners understood that the only thing keeping them in place, other than their chains, were spells. All of their jailors had fled.
"I have magiceuticals and Healing potions!" Ron announced. "I've brought help!"
A ragged, diffuse cheer rose then.
"But I'm going to need your cooperation in getting the medicaments to you. Anyone attempting to escape will be subdued. Anyone who harms one of my people will have to deal with me!"
"And who the hell are you?" came a disembodied voice from the lower levels.
Looking down, there was only the occasional flicker of light. The jailors had not kept up many of the charms that might have brought comfort to the inmates, not that weak candlelight was much.
Ron was contemplating his response when Harry's voice boomed, "HE'S AUROR RONALD FUCKING BILIUS WEASLEY! HE'S THE TERROR OF KNOCKTURN, THE SAVER OF CRUPS, THE DESPAIR OF HAGS, AND, WITH HERMIONE BLOODY-MINDED GRANGER, WHY I WAS ABLE TO DESTROY VOLDEMORT!"
"Harry Potter! It's Potter! Potter's here! We're doomed!"
"DON'T YOU GITS LISTEN?" thundered Harry. "WE'RE HERE TO SAVE YOU! AUROR WEASLEY IS WHY WE ARE HERE!"
"THANKS, er, thanks, Harry! We aren't going to hurt you, prisoners of Azkaban! We are here to help you, so cooperate or . . . OR PAY THE PRICE!"
Luna glided down to hover, at shoulder level, next to Ron. Her carpet was loaded with black baskets, each holding, thanks to Hermione's charms, a large amount of food and, as Luna referred to the cure, "medicaments."
"Well, Ron? Shall we begin? The Apprentice Healers and I are prepared."
"Thank you, Luna. Remember, you each go in to your assigned sections with one Auror or Auror-in-Training. No exceptions."
"No exceptions," agreed Luna.
Ron turned to look behind himself. There on the landing that overlooked the cells below stood every volunteer he and his friends had been able to muster when they learnt that the plague had taken hold at Azkaban, and that it had been abandoned. The idea had been to let the prisoners die, or not, it made no difference to the Ministry. Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Rolf, and all their friends, with very few exceptions, had been horrified. They'd done the only thing that they could, they'd ignored orders, rallied Snape and Skeeter and George, and got to work. For once, Ron couldn't wait to read a Skeeter article, given that her next one would feature news that Snape was alive and had cured the virulent new variant of Dragon Pox currently sweeping the wizarding world on every continent. That was, in spite of everything, the best news he'd heard in a long time.
"All right, brother," said George. "No more wool-gathering. Shall we begin?"
"Go," ordered Ron, and everyone set off to the cells, everyone, that is, save George.
"They'll sack you for this. You're in charge."
"I know," Ron replied. "I don't care."
"Well, you can always come work with me, you know, after the divorce is final."
"Belt up, you arse!"
George clapped Ron on the back. "We'll talk later, boss-and by 'boss', I mean for here, this, not in the shop!"
Ron snorted. He'd known it was his last mission when he'd seen the look of utter indifference on the faces of his superiors at the thought of "those people" dying. He'd known it was the end of his marriage when Hermione had returned from helping Snape with the Healing potion production the first time; she'd been as lit up as his superiors had been dim. But neither thing mattered at the moment. At the moment, he was still an Auror, and even if he'd assigned himself this final mission, it was still his.
I don't let people die. That's not who I am.
"Right! Where are we, Bradford?" he asked, flying down to join a nervous-looking Auror-in-Training. "Catch me up!"
Author:
iulia_linnea
Characters: Ron, Harry, Luna, George, others (various implied relationships)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 783
Summary: Auror Ronald Fucking Bilius Weasley's final mission is his most heroic.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Auror Weasley placed his wand against his neck, cast a silent Sonorous Charm, and began to speak.
"Prisoners of Azkaban! Prisoners of Azkaban, listen to me! My name is Ronald Weasley. I'm an Auror."
A rolling, cacophonous noise reached Ron's ears, almost as if it had crawled up the cold stones and clawed at his robes to do so. He shivered.
"I know you're ill," he continued. "I know the Healers came and went without helping you. I know, er, I know you're very angry about that."
The sound became at once angrier and frightened, but it lessened. They were waiting, hoping for help, were the prisoners.
Ron shivered again because he wasn't certain how long Harry and the others could hold back the Dementors, and not one of the Aurors who had accompanied him on this career-ending mission knew if the prisoners understood that the only thing keeping them in place, other than their chains, were spells. All of their jailors had fled.
"I have magiceuticals and Healing potions!" Ron announced. "I've brought help!"
A ragged, diffuse cheer rose then.
"But I'm going to need your cooperation in getting the medicaments to you. Anyone attempting to escape will be subdued. Anyone who harms one of my people will have to deal with me!"
"And who the hell are you?" came a disembodied voice from the lower levels.
Looking down, there was only the occasional flicker of light. The jailors had not kept up many of the charms that might have brought comfort to the inmates, not that weak candlelight was much.
Ron was contemplating his response when Harry's voice boomed, "HE'S AUROR RONALD FUCKING BILIUS WEASLEY! HE'S THE TERROR OF KNOCKTURN, THE SAVER OF CRUPS, THE DESPAIR OF HAGS, AND, WITH HERMIONE BLOODY-MINDED GRANGER, WHY I WAS ABLE TO DESTROY VOLDEMORT!"
"Harry Potter! It's Potter! Potter's here! We're doomed!"
"DON'T YOU GITS LISTEN?" thundered Harry. "WE'RE HERE TO SAVE YOU! AUROR WEASLEY IS WHY WE ARE HERE!"
"THANKS, er, thanks, Harry! We aren't going to hurt you, prisoners of Azkaban! We are here to help you, so cooperate or . . . OR PAY THE PRICE!"
Luna glided down to hover, at shoulder level, next to Ron. Her carpet was loaded with black baskets, each holding, thanks to Hermione's charms, a large amount of food and, as Luna referred to the cure, "medicaments."
"Well, Ron? Shall we begin? The Apprentice Healers and I are prepared."
"Thank you, Luna. Remember, you each go in to your assigned sections with one Auror or Auror-in-Training. No exceptions."
"No exceptions," agreed Luna.
Ron turned to look behind himself. There on the landing that overlooked the cells below stood every volunteer he and his friends had been able to muster when they learnt that the plague had taken hold at Azkaban, and that it had been abandoned. The idea had been to let the prisoners die, or not, it made no difference to the Ministry. Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Rolf, and all their friends, with very few exceptions, had been horrified. They'd done the only thing that they could, they'd ignored orders, rallied Snape and Skeeter and George, and got to work. For once, Ron couldn't wait to read a Skeeter article, given that her next one would feature news that Snape was alive and had cured the virulent new variant of Dragon Pox currently sweeping the wizarding world on every continent. That was, in spite of everything, the best news he'd heard in a long time.
"All right, brother," said George. "No more wool-gathering. Shall we begin?"
"Go," ordered Ron, and everyone set off to the cells, everyone, that is, save George.
"They'll sack you for this. You're in charge."
"I know," Ron replied. "I don't care."
"Well, you can always come work with me, you know, after the divorce is final."
"Belt up, you arse!"
George clapped Ron on the back. "We'll talk later, boss-and by 'boss', I mean for here, this, not in the shop!"
Ron snorted. He'd known it was his last mission when he'd seen the look of utter indifference on the faces of his superiors at the thought of "those people" dying. He'd known it was the end of his marriage when Hermione had returned from helping Snape with the Healing potion production the first time; she'd been as lit up as his superiors had been dim. But neither thing mattered at the moment. At the moment, he was still an Auror, and even if he'd assigned himself this final mission, it was still his.
I don't let people die. That's not who I am.
"Right! Where are we, Bradford?" he asked, flying down to join a nervous-looking Auror-in-Training. "Catch me up!"