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Title: Harry Potter and the Dagger of Ravenclaw, Chapter 4: The Mutatio Curse (2/2)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: HBP; Seven Soldiers (see above)
Rating: R for language and partial nudity
Summary: Harry and Hermione escape Egypt with Ron, and his condition is revealed
Notes: I hope this chapter doesn’t drag too much. It’s a lot of talk, a lot of sitting around, but in the end I hope it works out. I’ve decided to cut it short a bit, and Chapter 5 will be my last chapter in this series. As usual, I don’t own Rowling. Rowling owns Rowling.
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Why is Draco doing the hula? Harry thought. And why is he wearing a grass skirt and coconuts?
“Harry!”
“Hoobajooba!” Harry yelled, sitting bolt upright. He saw sunlight fighting its way through the faded brown fabric covering his eyes.
“Morning, Sunshine,” said a small voice in his ear. Harry pulled off the Hat, and Gavin stared back at him, his mouth-rip curled up in a smirk.
“I thought you said that you weren’t going to try to wake me up before you sent me any weird images,” Harry said to it.
“I didn’t send you anything,” said Gavin innocently. “Why, what were you dreaming about?”
Harry’s eyes widened in horror.
“Nah, I’m just joshing with ya,” said the Hat. “Either way, it woke you up, didn’t it?”
Harry rubbed his hand across his face, making his blurry vision somewhat less blurry as his eyes woke up. He looked around the grove of trees, and realizing the sun was.
“How long was I asleep?” Harry asked, having to look almost straight up to see the sun.
“Too long or not long enough, depending on your perspective,” said Gavin. “You beat Granger, though. And still nothing from Weasley.”
Harry saw Ron wrapped in their robes on the ground, still in the same position where they had left him. Hermione had curled up beside him, her knees curled up to her chin and her arm draped across his chest.
Harry stood to wake up, but the Sorting Hat interrupted: “Let her sleep,” he said. “She needs it more than us. Besides, we need to talk.”
“I suppose we do.”
“Put me on.”
Harry did as Gavin asked, pulling the Sorting Hat down over his eyes.
It’s quieter in here, Harry heard the Hat’s voice in his mind. Don’t be alarmed. And you can go ahead and think what you want to say; you know I can read thoughts. So how long are we waiting?
What? Harry thought.
I’ve been thinking it, you’ve been thinking it. It was sitting right on your frontal lobe all night. How long do we wait for Weasley’s condition to improve? He’s unconscious; we don’t know how long he’ll be able to go without water, or food, or bed rest. We don’t know if he even will wake up.
There’s a settlement around Pistoia, a few miles from here, said Harry. Their medical facilities probably aren’t state-of-the-art, but he’s better off there than here. I say we wait it out till the end of the day. If he’s not awake by then, we find a way to bring him down into the town. If they can deal with him, fantastic. If not, I’m sure they have a Portkey to a better hospital.
Mm, Gavin grunted. Suppose that’s probably true. Milan has a great magical hospital. So does Venice. Think he’d be safe there? I mean, safe from attack?
I would hope so, once we get him out of Pistoia. The hospitals are fairly well guarded. I’d take him, make sure he’s in good hands, and move on.
What about Granger?
Harry paused. I don’t know, he said slowly. It would probably be best for her if she stayed with Ron, but…
Oh, wait, the Hat interrupted. Never mind.
Harry felt Gavin pull out of his mind, like someone walking down a long hallway in his brain and slamming a door. He pulled the Hat off, and felt his breath stop.
Ron was slowly sitting up, Hermione’s Cowl falling down from his chest and around his waist. He rubbed his head groggily, like a man who had just woken up from a nice nap. Not at all like someone who had been in a battle with a cursed knife the evening before. He turned to Harry and smiled. He took a breath, ready to speak, but before he did, he was tackled from the side.
“Ron!” Hermione screamed, woken up when Ron had sat up. She lay on top of him, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders and arms, crying as she buried her face in his chest. “Ron, thank God! I was so scared!”
Ron looked up from the dirt and saw Harry’s shocked face. He gave Harry a look that said that he felt like he was walking into the middle of a movie.
Ron moved his mouth. Harry thought it looked like he said It’s alright, Hermione, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat, and tried again. Still nothing.
“Are you okay, Ron?” Harry said, crawling toward the two of them.
Ron nodded, grimacing as he put his hand over his throat, then, with his other hand, made a tipping motion in front of his mouth.
“Water!” Harry said quickly as Hermione pulled away. “Yeah, water, sure.” He reached into his robe and pulled out his wand. “Aguamenti.” Water came pouring out of the tip, and he held it to Ron’s mouth. Ron sucked some in, then exhaled deeply.
Thanks, Ron’s mouth framed, his eyes responding with a look of sheer confusion. No sound. He repeated it. Still nothing.
“Ron?” Hermione said, her voice trembling. Ron turned to her and looked her in the eyes, panic beginning to show on his face.
“Maybe the Dagger was cursed with a Silencio,” Harry said.
Hermione shook her head. “Silencio’s only a temporary hex. It should have worn off by now.”
“We don’t know that,” Harry insisted. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost track of the time. Besides, maybe it’s a stronger version. What’s the counter curse for a Silencio?”
Hermione pulled her wand out of the Cowl and pointed it at Ron’s neck. “Enuncio!” she yelled. A yellow beam of light broke from the tip of the wand and struck Ron’s throat.
“Try it now,” Harry said. Ron mouthed the words Hello, but still nothing came.
“Enuncio!” Hermione repeated, her breathing starting to betray her own panic. “Enuncio! ENUNCIO!”
“Maybe that’s not it,” said Harry after Ron attempted to yell at them. “Are there any other hexes like this?”
“I don’t know,” said Hermione, her face growing pale. “Maybe?”
Ron’s eyes bugged out, and he nodded his head. He took Hermione’s wand, pointed it at his throat, then pushed his hands away from his mouth as he opened it wide while waving to an imaginary crowd.
“Sonorus?” Harry said, remembering when Ludo Bagman used it at the Quidditch World Cup. “But that makes it louder.”
“But maybe it’s the counter curse that he was hit with,” said Hermione hopefully. “I think that’s what would happen with Quietus. Maybe his voice is still there, but the volume’s been turned down so low that we can’t hear it. Sonorus!”
Ron opened his mouth again, and Harry and Hermione leaned in close.
“Anything?” Harry asked her.
“Nothing,” she replied, looking sadly at Ron. “Not even a whisper. Oh, Ron…”
“What else is there?” Harry asked. “Is there a spell that turns up the pitch so high that only dogs can hear, maybe?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Hermione said, her head whipping back and forth. Harry grabbed her shoulders, seeing that she was getting close to another breakdown.
“Calm down, okay?” Harry said firmly. “Get your book, do some research. I’ll see what I can see.”
“Okay,” she replied quietly, and crawled over to her satchel. Pulling back the flap, she pulled out the Hogwarts compendium and opened it. “Index,” she said, pointing her wand to the blank page. “Curses and Counter Curses.”
Harry turned around to Ron, whose face was beet red and contorted. His hands were in tight fists, digging into the ground like drills. He looked like he wanted to furiously scream to the heavens.
“You got to calm down, too, Ron, okay?” Harry said, putting his fingers under Ron’s chin and lifting his head. “Let’s get a look at you.”
Harry examined Ron’s throat, the first time he had been able to look at it in good lighting since the attack. No cut, he thought. No bruising, so it doesn’t look like anything was cut internally…
“Do you think it’s the Dagger itself?” asked Hermione as she scanned the pages. “When you destroyed it, it was already in his throat. Do you think some of it stayed behind?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said, feeling more and more like a doctor as he squinted through his glasses at Ron’s throat. “I doubt it. If it was the dust, then a lot of it would have been in his bloodstream, and we’d be seeing something. I don’t know what, but something.”
“And if it was a piece of it?”
“Then Ron’ll probably need surgery.”
Or he’d be dead already, he refused to say to Hermione. If that Dagger could control itself, then there would probably be enough power left over in one fragment to travel six inches into his brain and do a little of its own surgery.
“Wait, hang on,” Harry said, leaning closer. “I think I see something.”
“What?”
“Two little marks,” said Harry. “Really faint. Almost like shaving scars.”
“Oh, no,” Gavin said quietly from behind them, but they paid no attention.
Hermione flipped through the book. “How big?”
“I don’t know,” Harry continued. “About a centimeter, and about a half-centimeter apart from each other.”
“Where are they at?”
“Right on the larynx,” Gavin said glumly. “Of course. Voldemort, you heartless bastard. Can’t cast the spell if you can never say the words.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned as one to the Hat. “What are you talking about?” Harry asked, looking to Hermione for help. He could see realization dawning in her eyes.
“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “That can’t be right. It has to be something else.”
“There is nothing else,” Gavin snapped. “The scars were a dead giveaway.”
“But even he wouldn’t be so…”
“He’s a mass murderer. He killed Harry’s parents while he watched. He’s killed his own father and his grandparents. The Mutatio Curse is well within his moral code, Miss Granger.”
“Ron!” Hermoine wailed, dropping the book and running to him. Ron wrapped his arms around her as she screamed and cried against his shoulder; sure that he should be scared of something, but not knowing what.
“The what?” Harry asked the Hat.
“The Mutatio Curse,” said Gavin coldly. “It’s rarely used because it can’t just be thrown at an enemy with a wand. It’s cast when a weapon infected with the Curse is directly applied to the victim’s throat. Of course Voldemort would use it. What better way to keep do-gooders from destroying his precious Horcruxes than by keeping them from ever casting the spell?”
“But what…?”
“The Mutatio Curse is like Silencio,” the Hat continued. “Only it doesn’t wear off.”
Harry’s body went cold. He turned to Ron, whose face was pale with shock.
Gavin sighed. “And there’s no known cure.”
Harry sat quietly, his heart beating fast in his chest as he watched Ron and Hermione take the news of the Mutatio Curse. The next fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. He watched as Ron’s face melted as he realized what had happened to him. Watched him try to scream, try to cry, try to curse some higher power, but not a word, not a wail, not a whimper came from Ron’s mouth.
Harry watched as Hermione broke down in tears as she watched her lover pound his fists silently into the dirt. Watched as she went to him. Tried to comfort him. Watched as they both eventually began to cry into each other’s shoulders: Hermione in great, soul-wrenching sobs, Ron sniffling and choking, but nothing else.
Harry watched, but didn’t interfere. Because he knew what needed to be said. And he knew that whatever he tried to tell Ron while calming him would be a lie. And he couldn’t lie to his best friend, no matter how much the truth might hurt.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Harry felt that it was time to speak.
“You’re going home.”
Hermione and Ron both looked up in shock. “What?” she said.
“You’re going home,” Harry said firmly. “Both of you.”
Of all the reactions Harry had been expecting, this one was the one he had least expected. Ron pushed himself away from Hermione and launched himself at Harry. He swung his fist, and it connected with Harry’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Within seconds, Ron was on top of him, grabbing Harry’s shirt and shaking him like a ragdoll. His fists flew out again and again, connecting with Harry’s forehead, his cheek, his chest.
“Ron!” Hermione screamed, running over and wrapping her arm around Ron’s chest, pulling him off of Harry. Harry sat up in disbelief. He saw Ron sitting on the ground, with Hermione behind him. They were blurry, and he realized that Ron had knocked his glasses off when he took him down. He felt a great wave of sadness, followed by a rising tide of anger.
Go with it, he thought to himself. Be angry. It’ll make it easier for them to leave.
“You’re going home,” Harry said sharply to Ron, wiping the blood from his split lip. “You’re going down to Pistoia, and taking a Portkey to somewhere with an airport or a train station, I don’t care which. I’ll give you the money; you can transfer it into Euros. Hermione’s taking you to St. Mungo’s. There’s no known cure for Mutatio, but they probably haven’t seen too many cases. They can try to fix you up, and you’ll both be safe.”
Ron and Hermione both sat in stunned silence.
“I made a mistake,” said Harry, running his hands along the ground as he tried looking for his glasses. “I never should have brought you along. I should have left you at Hogwarts, and searched for the Horcruxes alone.”
“Oh, fuck you, Potter!”
Harry saw Ron’s head snap to the side in shock, and he knew that his face was reacting much the same way as his own at Hermione’s extremely uncharacteristic reaction.
“You think we’re here for our health?” she spat. “You think we’re here because we thought it was going to be one big vacation? You didn’t bring us with. We asked to come. We wanted to come, and we would have followed you no matter what you said. Hell, if you had left without us, we would have searched the ends of the Earth for you. We knew what you had to do, and we wanted to help you. You’re our friend.”
“That’s why I can’t have you come with me any more,” said Harry. “Because you’re my friends. Why do you think I left Ginny behind? Because I didn’t want this,” he pointed at Ron, “to happen to her. And I didn’t want this to happen to either of you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anything worse happen.”
“We knew what we were getting into,” Hermione argued. “For God’s sake, Harry, we’ve been with you for over six years. We’ve been through the dungeons of Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets, the Department of Mysteries with you. We’ve fought battles with you. We knew the dangers…”
“This isn’t a request!” Harry yelled. “I’m telling you: you’re done. I’m doing this without you!”
Hermione dropped her head into her hands, staring at the dirt beneath her. After a minute of silence, she looked up and stared Harry straight in the eyes. Her face was an emotionless mask.
“Fine,” she said flatly. “If you’re done with us, then I’m done with you. That’s it. You continue your search without us. If you finish it, great. The world will be safe from Voldemort. But you’ll be coming back a lonely man. Because I won’t be there for you anymore.”
She turned to Ron, and he nodded in approval.
“Neither of us will,” she said. “Don’t expect us to be your friend. Don’t even expect us to acknowledge your existence. If our friendship with you, our concern for you, is just a burden, then I’ll gladly relieve you of it.”
Harry’s stomach tightened, and he felt a cold chill pass over his body.
A life alone, he thought. These are my two best friends in the world.
Dead and with you, another part of his mind responded, or alive and without you. It’s your choice.
They can handle themselves well enough. They have just as much of a right to decide as they do. Hell, they’re both older than you are, stop treating them like children.
But I can’t let them…
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” Hermione explained darkly to a silenced Harry. “Ron and I leave. I bring Ron to St. Mungo’s. Then I’m coming back for you. Are we clear?”
Ron nodded; then he realized Hermione had said, and he slapped her arm with the back of his hand. Hermione flinched, and turned to look at Ron, who was gesturing wildly, his mouth running a mile a minute.
“Yes,” Hermione said to Ron, without trying to figure out what his mouth was saying. “I’m coming back for him. You’re Cursed, I want to make sure you’re safe before I come back.”
Gavin cleared his ‘throat’ from the ground. “You don’t think Potter can order you around. Ron should have a say in what happens to him, too, don’t you think, Granger?”
“What?” Hermione stammered. “But this is different! I mean, I’m perfectly healthy. Ron’s hurt, Ron can’t…”
“I think Weasley can answer for himself,” the Hat said. “Ron. Put me on, mate. I can translate for you.”
Hermione gave a helpless look to Harry, who was pointedly looking away from them both. Ron rolled over onto his hands and knees and picked up the Sorting Hat. He looked at it questioningly.
“Don’t worry,” said Gavin. “Just think what you want to say, and I’ll say it for you.”
Ron hesitated, then put the Hat on; it fell down over his eyes. Gavin’s slit eyes opened, and the mouth beneath it spoke:
“I’m not leaving you, Harry. I can’t.”
“Ron, be sensible,” Harry said quickly. “You’re Cursed!”
“And if it wasn’t me,” said Ron through Gavin’s mouth, “then it would be you. If you had gone to Egypt without us, then the Dagger would have cursed you. And it would all be over, because you couldn’t destroy the Horcrux.”
“I would have found another way,” said Harry.
“I did it,” said Gavin/Ron, “and I’d do it again. You’re my best friend. I’d take an Unspeakable for you if it meant saving your life. The worst thing you could do to me is put me on the sidelines now.”
“Ron,” Hermione said carefully, “I love you, so don’t take what I’m going to say the wrong way. But what can you do? I mean, you can’t talk, so you can’t cast spells anymore.”
“She’s right,” said Harry. “There have been four Horcruxes destroyed. Between Dumbledore, Regulus, and the three of us, we’ve had to go through Death Eaters, Inferi, multiple curses, and one basilisk to get them. I doubt the others are going to be hugs and puppies. I’m not letting you go in unarmed.”
“I can still use the sword, if you’re willing to part with it,” said Gavin, Ron’s mouth tightening beneath his brim. “And I can still do spells. Nonverbals, right?”
Harry looked down at the Sword of Gryffindor. He might be right, said Harry. But still…
“The sword wouldn’t be enough,” said Harry. “Not against wizards. And you’ve never been good at Nonverbals.”
“Then teach me!” the Hat yelled, and Ron’s mouth angrily shaped the words, as if he wanted to yell them anyway. “We have to go to Canada for the next Horcrux. That’s a long trip. I’ll have plenty of time to practice.”
Harry closed his eyes and lay his head in his hands, deep in thought. He looked up at Hermione. “What do you think?”
“I’m not leaving you,” Hermione said slowly. “And Ron’s not leaving you. So I guess it’s your choice.”
You’re prepared, said a voice inside him. From the moment you stepped onto this road, you’ve been prepared with all of the necessary equipment and weaponry. But it turns out that you left some important things unaccounted for.
Don’t leave unprepared again.
“We stay,” said Harry. “We stay until Ron’s ready. No matter how long it takes. Just hope it doesn’t take too long.”
“You mean it?” said Hermione, a smile crossing her face. “You’re not making us leave?”
“You act like I have a choice in the matter,” Harry sighed, standing and stretching. “But if you two are coming with, then we’re not going half-assed.”
He turned to Ron. “So what do you think, mate? Ready to start training?”
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