26. ACCUSATION (PG-13) BY IAMSHADOW
Title: Accusation
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Ron/Harry
Word Count: 1,207
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cooking chocolate. Voro interruptus. Furious!Protective!Ron
Summary: An unexpected guest interrupts dinner at the Burrow.
A/N: This chapter probably sprang from reading Shari's Deluminating and rewatching OotP the other night.
I'm afraid it's not a terribly original idea, but I really liked a lot of the character interaction and reactions that sprang from it. It also spun out into over 2,700 words, so I've split it into two, of which this is the first half. If you prod me enough in the comments, I may post the second half tonight as well. :)
Sorry Shari, no mirror. I am faced with my first hurdle, and I fail catastrophically. :)
The Teapot 'verse Series
Chapter List HERE
Future Fics HERE
Teapot Cookie Fics HERE
A sharp crack echoes outside in the yard, making Mum, Dad, George, Percy and me all look up from our dinner plates and swivel around.
“I thought you said Harry was working late tonight, Ron?” Mum says, resting her laden fork back down.
I’m blinking in surprise myself. “I did…he is...”
“Well then I wonder who-”
Mum’s speculation is cut off by the loud thudding of a fist against wood.
“I’ll get it,” George, who is the closest, volunteers.
Another insistent rally of pounding is shaking the door in its frame when he reaches it and turns the handle. When the door swings wide, Mum makes a terrible sound; a little cry of utter pain and grief.
Illuminated in the wash of light from inside is a tall, square-framed man with pale, almost colourless eyes and a short scrub of greying, sandy hair.
Leaning heavily against him, apparently only semi-conscious, is Harry.
I feel a horrible jolt of terror. There’s a flurry of movement as everyone scrambles to their feet around me, the meal forgotten. George immediately steps forward and takes Harry’s arm over his own shoulders. Percy is there a second later, taking the other side, helping Harry into a chair and holding him upright. Mum, revived from her momentary shock, quickly kneels in from of him, patting his cheeks and murmuring soothingly.
“Evan, what happened?” Dad demands, and for the first time I realise that this is Harry’s boss, the Head of the Aurors, not just some random colleague.
“He’ll be all right, Arthur,” Campester reassures him hastily. “But he should have some chocolate, if you’ve any handy. And probably a large brandy, too.”
“Chocolate?” I explode, incredulous. “What the fuck did you do? Stick him in a room full of Dementors?!”
“Ron,” Dad says warningly, in a low voice.
I ignore him and continue to stare down the Auror still hovering in the doorway. Campester doesn’t flinch away or pretend he hasn't heard me. Instead, he addresses me directly.
“No, Mr Weasley,” he says, “Chocolate is used as a standard first treatment for several forms of psychic assault, only one of which is attack by Dementor or Lethifold.” Campester pauses, then continues more gently, “If I’m to explain to you exactly what happened tonight, we should probably get settled somewhere. It’s going to take quite a while.”
“Of course,” Dad exclaims, sounding apologetic. “Forgive us, Evan. You’ve given us all quite a nasty shock, and you’re not seeing any of us at our best, I’m afraid.” He follows this with a firm, quelling glance in my direction, which I answer with a little shake of my head.
I am not going to back off.
I catch Campester looking at me with an air of curious assessment when I face him again, but before I can say something that probably would have been quite rude and confrontational, Dad is leading him through into the lounge room.
“Ready, Perce?” George asks, sliding an arm under Harry’s again.
“Yes.”
“Okay, up you come then,” George says, as he and Percy lift Harry between them and help him to walk. Mum walks backwards in front of them, chattering things like, “Mind that!” and “Turn a little more! You’re going to hit the doorframe.” I follow, almost on their heels.
They manoeuvre him across the cluttered space and into an armchair near the fireplace. George meets my eyes and steps back out of the way so that I can get in close enough to perch on the arm of the chair.
Harry’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at me, slightly dazed. “Ron?” His voice is barely more than a whisper, and sounds dry and cracked. My heart breaks.
“Shhh, don’t talk,” I murmur. “It’s me. It’s alright. You’re home. You’re safe.” It just about kills me to not reach out and hold his hand, stroke his face.
Mum bustles off and comes back with a large block of chocolate, which she begins to snap into pieces. “Only cooking chocolate, I’m afraid,” she mutters, mainly to herself.
Dad presses a glass of amber liquid into my hand and I help Harry to sip at it, though he grimaces at the strong spirits. Behind me, I hear Dad asking Campester if he wants a brandy himself.
“If you don’t mind, Arthur, I will,” he says, sounding weary. “It’s been a very long and trying day.” He drinks the whole glass in one slow swallow before setting the empty tumbler down and beginning to speak. “There was an incident in training today, between Potter and another trainee. A serious incident. One which could have cost Potter his career as an Auror, had we not taken the time to investigate it properly.”
“Investigate?” I hear Dad ask weakly. “When exactly did this happen?”
“Approximately two thirty this afternoon,” Campester answers.
“What?” I exclaim.
“He’s been like this since two thirty?!” George roars, turning a brilliant shade of crimson.
“No, Mr Weasley. Until half an hour ago, Potter was unconscious. And for a very good reason. Please let me explain.”
George subsides reluctantly.
“For the last week, the recruits, including Potter, have been working intensively on Occlumency and Legilimency with a Senior mentor. As you probably already know, we require a certain degree of proficiency in both disciplines. This afternoon was the first practical exercise with trainees practicing their skills on each other. The other trainee had shown a talent for Legilimency, and Potter had expressed a desire to improve his Occlumency. I partnered them together. It was a mistake.”
Percy broke the short silence that followed these words. “An Unforgivable Curse,” he murmurs, before looking hard at Campester. “I’m right, aren’t I? For there to have been an investigation, he must have used an Unforgivable Curse during the exercise.”
I hear Mum gasp. I glance at Harry’s face for confirmation, but he seems to have drifted off to sleep.
“Not an Unforgivable, no, but a Dark curse nonetheless, and one he had a prior record of using, whilst a student at Hogwarts. The Sectumsempra.”
George flinches and one of his hands brushes the side of his head where his hair covers the absence of an ear.
I have another little explosion.
“Sectumsempra? That was against Malfoy when he was about to use the Cruciatus Curse on him! It was self defence!”
“I know that, Mr Weasley. Mr Malfoy Junior told me as much himself when I interrogated him last year about his activities as a Death Eater. He took Veritaserum voluntarily and made what we believe to be a full account of his actions.”
I bare my teeth and prepare to say exactly what I think of Malfoy when Campester holds up a hand, staying me. “Please, Mr Weasley.”
“Fine,” I snap.
“The exercise was simple. The person assigned as the Occlumens was to protect their mind, the other was to try and skim a thought or a memory from the surface of the mind of their opponent. I was observing several pairs, and only saw the end result of their bout. Potter was unconscious, and the other trainee was bleeding heavily from a deep slash across his face. He claimed Potter had attacked him with unnecessary force, and without warning.”
<- 25. Vocabulary c@r 27. Verisimilitude ->
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Ron/Harry
Word Count: 1,207
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cooking chocolate. Voro interruptus. Furious!Protective!Ron
Summary: An unexpected guest interrupts dinner at the Burrow.
A/N: This chapter probably sprang from reading Shari's Deluminating and rewatching OotP the other night.
I'm afraid it's not a terribly original idea, but I really liked a lot of the character interaction and reactions that sprang from it. It also spun out into over 2,700 words, so I've split it into two, of which this is the first half. If you prod me enough in the comments, I may post the second half tonight as well. :)
Sorry Shari, no mirror. I am faced with my first hurdle, and I fail catastrophically. :)
The Teapot 'verse Series
Chapter List HERE
Future Fics HERE
Teapot Cookie Fics HERE
A sharp crack echoes outside in the yard, making Mum, Dad, George, Percy and me all look up from our dinner plates and swivel around.
“I thought you said Harry was working late tonight, Ron?” Mum says, resting her laden fork back down.
I’m blinking in surprise myself. “I did…he is...”
“Well then I wonder who-”
Mum’s speculation is cut off by the loud thudding of a fist against wood.
“I’ll get it,” George, who is the closest, volunteers.
Another insistent rally of pounding is shaking the door in its frame when he reaches it and turns the handle. When the door swings wide, Mum makes a terrible sound; a little cry of utter pain and grief.
Illuminated in the wash of light from inside is a tall, square-framed man with pale, almost colourless eyes and a short scrub of greying, sandy hair.
Leaning heavily against him, apparently only semi-conscious, is Harry.
I feel a horrible jolt of terror. There’s a flurry of movement as everyone scrambles to their feet around me, the meal forgotten. George immediately steps forward and takes Harry’s arm over his own shoulders. Percy is there a second later, taking the other side, helping Harry into a chair and holding him upright. Mum, revived from her momentary shock, quickly kneels in from of him, patting his cheeks and murmuring soothingly.
“Evan, what happened?” Dad demands, and for the first time I realise that this is Harry’s boss, the Head of the Aurors, not just some random colleague.
“He’ll be all right, Arthur,” Campester reassures him hastily. “But he should have some chocolate, if you’ve any handy. And probably a large brandy, too.”
“Chocolate?” I explode, incredulous. “What the fuck did you do? Stick him in a room full of Dementors?!”
“Ron,” Dad says warningly, in a low voice.
I ignore him and continue to stare down the Auror still hovering in the doorway. Campester doesn’t flinch away or pretend he hasn't heard me. Instead, he addresses me directly.
“No, Mr Weasley,” he says, “Chocolate is used as a standard first treatment for several forms of psychic assault, only one of which is attack by Dementor or Lethifold.” Campester pauses, then continues more gently, “If I’m to explain to you exactly what happened tonight, we should probably get settled somewhere. It’s going to take quite a while.”
“Of course,” Dad exclaims, sounding apologetic. “Forgive us, Evan. You’ve given us all quite a nasty shock, and you’re not seeing any of us at our best, I’m afraid.” He follows this with a firm, quelling glance in my direction, which I answer with a little shake of my head.
I am not going to back off.
I catch Campester looking at me with an air of curious assessment when I face him again, but before I can say something that probably would have been quite rude and confrontational, Dad is leading him through into the lounge room.
“Ready, Perce?” George asks, sliding an arm under Harry’s again.
“Yes.”
“Okay, up you come then,” George says, as he and Percy lift Harry between them and help him to walk. Mum walks backwards in front of them, chattering things like, “Mind that!” and “Turn a little more! You’re going to hit the doorframe.” I follow, almost on their heels.
They manoeuvre him across the cluttered space and into an armchair near the fireplace. George meets my eyes and steps back out of the way so that I can get in close enough to perch on the arm of the chair.
Harry’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at me, slightly dazed. “Ron?” His voice is barely more than a whisper, and sounds dry and cracked. My heart breaks.
“Shhh, don’t talk,” I murmur. “It’s me. It’s alright. You’re home. You’re safe.” It just about kills me to not reach out and hold his hand, stroke his face.
Mum bustles off and comes back with a large block of chocolate, which she begins to snap into pieces. “Only cooking chocolate, I’m afraid,” she mutters, mainly to herself.
Dad presses a glass of amber liquid into my hand and I help Harry to sip at it, though he grimaces at the strong spirits. Behind me, I hear Dad asking Campester if he wants a brandy himself.
“If you don’t mind, Arthur, I will,” he says, sounding weary. “It’s been a very long and trying day.” He drinks the whole glass in one slow swallow before setting the empty tumbler down and beginning to speak. “There was an incident in training today, between Potter and another trainee. A serious incident. One which could have cost Potter his career as an Auror, had we not taken the time to investigate it properly.”
“Investigate?” I hear Dad ask weakly. “When exactly did this happen?”
“Approximately two thirty this afternoon,” Campester answers.
“What?” I exclaim.
“He’s been like this since two thirty?!” George roars, turning a brilliant shade of crimson.
“No, Mr Weasley. Until half an hour ago, Potter was unconscious. And for a very good reason. Please let me explain.”
George subsides reluctantly.
“For the last week, the recruits, including Potter, have been working intensively on Occlumency and Legilimency with a Senior mentor. As you probably already know, we require a certain degree of proficiency in both disciplines. This afternoon was the first practical exercise with trainees practicing their skills on each other. The other trainee had shown a talent for Legilimency, and Potter had expressed a desire to improve his Occlumency. I partnered them together. It was a mistake.”
Percy broke the short silence that followed these words. “An Unforgivable Curse,” he murmurs, before looking hard at Campester. “I’m right, aren’t I? For there to have been an investigation, he must have used an Unforgivable Curse during the exercise.”
I hear Mum gasp. I glance at Harry’s face for confirmation, but he seems to have drifted off to sleep.
“Not an Unforgivable, no, but a Dark curse nonetheless, and one he had a prior record of using, whilst a student at Hogwarts. The Sectumsempra.”
George flinches and one of his hands brushes the side of his head where his hair covers the absence of an ear.
I have another little explosion.
“Sectumsempra? That was against Malfoy when he was about to use the Cruciatus Curse on him! It was self defence!”
“I know that, Mr Weasley. Mr Malfoy Junior told me as much himself when I interrogated him last year about his activities as a Death Eater. He took Veritaserum voluntarily and made what we believe to be a full account of his actions.”
I bare my teeth and prepare to say exactly what I think of Malfoy when Campester holds up a hand, staying me. “Please, Mr Weasley.”
“Fine,” I snap.
“The exercise was simple. The person assigned as the Occlumens was to protect their mind, the other was to try and skim a thought or a memory from the surface of the mind of their opponent. I was observing several pairs, and only saw the end result of their bout. Potter was unconscious, and the other trainee was bleeding heavily from a deep slash across his face. He claimed Potter had attacked him with unnecessary force, and without warning.”
<- 25. Vocabulary c@r 27. Verisimilitude ->