Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor

Summary: Year Six fic, from Ron's Point of View. Ron recognizes that he's needed, but what will his newfound sense of responsibility cost him?

Ships: H/GW, R/HG

Spoilers: The first five canon books.

Chapter One : At the Burrow

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If I had a formula for bypassing trouble, I would not pass it
around. Trouble creates a capacity to handle it. I don't say
embrace trouble; that's as bad as treating it as an enemy. 
But I do say meet it as a friend, for you'll see a lot of it and
you had better be on speaking terms with it.
 -- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Ronald Weasley had always enjoyed his summers at the Burrow, especially when he was able to spend them with his friends. The lack of constant classes and school events was made all the better by the prospects of repeated Quidditch games in the backyard, and as long as he was able to avoid degnoming, he could imagine few things like it in the world.

He knew that he was alone among his friends in that. Harry Potter had told him more than once that going to Hogwart's was like going home, and while he thought that Harry liked being at the Burrow as well, he could tell that there was always some awkwardness.

Hermione Granger, of course, was just mental. She might as well still be at school -- she kept trying to get Ron to sit with her and work on their Potions assignments. She wasn't after Harry, though - she seemed to be almost avoiding him. If all she cared about was getting her schoolwork done, Ron reflected, she might as well not even have a summer vacation - but when he said that to her, she just said something nasty back to him and let him stew. If she didn't want to have fun, why'd she come in the first place?

Harry had spent only two weeks at the Dursley's this year before returning to the Burrow. He'd have a whole month before having to go back to school. He hadn't spoken much about it - he just showed up one day with Dumbledore, who had talked in hushed tones with Arthur. Ron heard only a few words from his father. "A Pig?... Moody?... And the Ministry...?" Dumbledore shook his head, and Arthur looked relieved. With hardly another word said, Harry was back in Ron's room for the summer.

He was outside now, flying on his Firebolt. Ron supposed he should head outside himself and join his best friend, but Hermione kept looking at him strangely every time he started to get up from the table. Then he heard Ginny's voice outside -- there was no way that she could be out there with his friend without him. Ron just slammed his quill down and started to go.

"Is something wrong, Ron?" Hermione asked, concern touching her voice.

"I just can't believe that Snape piled so much on me for the summer."

"What sorts of things did he give you? I only got two essays from him, and a small practical."

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "I knew he hated me! He gave me ten different essays. I need to write up a description of burn treatments, squirrel repellant, something on drowning prevention, an analysis of snake-bites, and... and I haven't even looked at the rest!"

Hermione started to say something, but her face turned bright red. "Oh, dear," she said, under her breath, and she leaned over her hands, shaking slightly.

"What is it Hermione?" Ron asked. He leaned over her, his Potions homework suddenly forgotten. "Are you OK?"

Just then, something small and gold came through the open window, flying upstairs. Ron could hear the sound of something else coming, pushing the air out of the way. He shoved Hermione off her chair roughly, and under the kitchen table, just in time to avoid the path of two blurs, which followed each other through the window and up the stairs.

Ron looked at Hermione, and saw tears in her eyes, but a smile on her cheeks. "Are you OK?" he asked, and then was suddenly aware that he was, well, a little on top of her, and one of his hands was somewhere that it probably wasn't supposed to be, and he was feeling a little warm. He drew back quickly, hitting his head against the table, but Hermione acted like she didn't notice. She held up her hands, and seemed to be counting down to something. When she reached one, Ron winced, and the house shook. Hermione had become much to good at knowing his Mother's reaction time.

"VIRGINIA ELIZABETH WEASLEY, HOW COULD YOU! Quidditch in THE HOUSE! Harry, be a dear and take the snitch outside, will you, and make sure to close the window this time. I'm afraid you'll have to play without Ginny for a while, she's going to be doing some degnoming." Molly marched Ginny outside, pulling her broom away from her as they walked.

Ron looked at Hermione again, whispering to avoid his mother's notice. "Are you OK? You're still shaking."

"I think so. I just understood something, but I'm not sure if I should tell you." She was starting to shake again, but this time Ron could tell she was trying to hold back laughter. Those weren't tears of sadness.

"Well, what is it?" Ron was trying to be patient. He'd waited almost a whole five seconds before asking, after all.

"The last day... the last day of the term..." she was really shaking now, "I saw Snape talking to Trelawney - she was handing over some thick scrolls. I didn't think much of it, but he said something about needing to make sure his students were prepared for what they'd seen coming."

Ron blanched. "You mean - all those things Harry and I said were going to happen to each other?"

She'd given up trying to control it now.

"Bugger," was all Ron could say.

He saw Harry trying to pass the table quietly, and yelled out to him, a gleam in his eyes. "Hey, mate!"

"Yeah, Ron. What are the two of you doing under there? Looks kind of... cozy."

Ron ignored the implied tease, and asked the burning question that had just occurred to him. "Have you started your Potions homework?"

"No, I hadn't yet. Snape said it wasn't that bad, so I was just leaving it for a while."

"He said that?" Ron asked, starting to wonder if Snape had started favoring the Boy-Who-Lived after all.

"Well, not exactly. But he said it wasn't anything I wouldn't have already expected."

Ron's hysterical laughter mystified Harry and Ginny, but it was cut short by a mouthful of owl. The owl was strangely colored, mauve and green, and its feathers were at awkward angles. It tasted like perfume, and Ron spat it out without hesitation. A scroll of parchment was tied to its leg.

Harry picked up the owl, and pulled the parchment off it, but only for a moment. He yelped, "Ow!" as sparks flew from it to his hands, and he dropped it back to the ground. Everyone took a step back, and the owl flew out the window.

"Be careful," Ron said solemnly. "It might be from You-Know-Who."

"I think it's more likely that it's from our witless brothers," Ginny spoke up. "I don't think fireworks and a sparking charm is quite You-Know-Who's speed."

"Good point," Hermione agreed. She bent to one knee, looking closely at it, without touching it at all. "It's addressed to you."

Ron looked down reluctantly. "Do I want to open it?"

"Yes, you do," Hermione looked back up. "I'm sure not going to touch it."

Ron shrugged. "Well, if you insist." He bent over and picked it up gingerly, but there were no sparks. The parchment was more crumpled than rolled up, and it took Ron a few moments to straighten it out. He pronounced, "If Fred and George sent this, they're more wacked than I thought."

It wasn't blank, but it didn't contain anything useful either. It appeared to contain a bunch of letters, cut from various headlines. They were glossy, some red, some black, others white on black writing, but they didn't seem to spell out anything.

Hermione peered at it for a moment. "It's not from Fred and George."

"How do you know?" Ron was mystified.

"It's from Luna," she proclaimed, pointing at the letters, which Ron guessed must have come from the Quiddler, where Luna's father worked. "Who else would have this many red Q's to play with? Besides, I remember her mentioning this charm."

"Which charm?" Ron didn't mean to be snide, but she had to narrow it down a little.

"This one," Hermione said. She took Ron's hand, pulling it towards the parchment. She had him tap it three times, and the letters pulled apart. The shreds of letters rearranged. "It only works for the one it's addressed to," Hermione said, "although it's not too secure."

Ron looked at it. "I'm not sure how much more sense it makes now."

Dear Ron,

I wondered how your summer was going. There's been a rash of dark house-elf attacks in your neighborhood. They don't usually pick on homes without house-elves of their own, so you should be safe, but you should consider putting an iron horseshoe under your window in any case.

I know that SOME people might not think that this was a very secure way to send a letter, but I don't think a dark house-elf would be able to break it anyway. Everyone knows that they're afraid of red letters.

Take Care,

Luna

Harry scratched his head. "I've never heard of dark house-elves."

Hermione's scathing tone could have stripped paint. "There's no such thing. Don't tell me that you believe a single thing that she says..."

Her tirade was cut short abruptly, when Ron's father Apparated into the room. He looked disheveled and worn, and Ron realized he hadn't seen him the night before. Ron jumped up, catching him moments before he could fall.

"Thanks, Ron. Could you help me to the couch?"

Ron happily agreed. "Are you alright, Dad?"

"I've been better. Could you perhaps get me something to drink?"

"Sure." Ron went to get his father some pumpkin juice. When he returned, Hermione was sitting across from him, already talking. "Here you go, Dad," he said, putting the cup down. "Should I get Mum?"

"Yes, you probably better. And I suppose you should get Harry, as well. I've just about given up on trying to keep bad news away from the three of you."

Hermione stood up. "I'll get them, you keep him company."

"Thanks," Ron murmured to her, as she passed. Hermione was almost too thoughtful. He knew she was trying to make sure he could spend every second possible with his father. He had been shaken by last year's events, just as his whole family had been. The near death of his father at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been a life-changing event for Ron, and the death of Sirius Black had brought home to him just how close to the edge they were all living.

"So, how are things," his father managed.

"Going alright, I guess. Trying to work through my potions homework."

"Really? I must be more tired than I thought. I thought I was talking to my son, Ron."

Ron flushed, and started to make excuses. "Well, I've got a lot to do this summer. Snape's really piling it on." Ron felt a little odd making excuses for studying; usually it was the other way around.

Arthur laughed, and he looked much better as he did so. "You don't have to explain it to me." He leaned in closer. "It's Hermione, isn't it?"

Ron heard the door shut, and Ginny came running in, followed closely by Molly. Harry and Hermione were walking behind them, trying to avoid being run over by the impromptu Weasley stampede. "Dad!" Ginny cried, running over to hug him.

"Now, now, it's not like it's the first time I've been up all night," Arthur patted her on the back. "There's no reason to take it like that."

Ron felt almost jealous at the way Ginny could casually just grab his father. He'd never been the baby of the family, since she was only ten months younger than him, and he'd never gotten quite as much attention as her.

Harry and Hermione filled in the circle of family, on either side of Ron, and waited patiently as Molly took her turn throwing her arms around her husband. "Arthur, what's wrong? It's not the boys, is it?" She looked terrified.

Arthur shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. They're all fine, as far as I know. It's something else." He looked around the family. "Ginny, I don't think you need to be involved in this."

"Why not?" she looked at him fiercely, as if she hadn't just been holding onto him for dear life.

"Well, I just don't like getting you involved in things like this," Arthur was looking at Ron for support. Ron was grateful that he'd avoided this aspect of being the baby of the family, but he knew he was expected to support his father.

"Please, Mister Weasley," Harry spoke up. "She's as much a part of everything as the rest of us. She'll only worm it out of me later, anyway."

Arthur looked at him seriously. "Alright, Harry, if that's the way you both want it." He took in a deep breath. "There's been a theft, and a rather serious one."

"What was stolen? Who was it stolen from?" Ron asked. He noticed that Hermione had already grabbed a parchment from their homework, and was taking notes.

Arthur smiled at his youngest son's eagerness to help. "It was in the British Magical Museum. They've got an exhibit on the Dark Ages, which has a small display on Hogwarts. The whole section on Salazar Slytherin was wiped out. A few books were taken, and so were the replicas of some famous artifacts."

"Do you have any idea who would have done it?"

"We already know. There was a witness. It was You-Know-Who."

"In person?" Ron was aghast.

Arthur nodded his head.

Voldemort had done very little in person after his return, until he was spotted at the Ministry. Since then, it wasn't known how much he was involved in most of the Death Eater Attacks, since there hadn't been any survivors.

"I'm going to kill him." Harry's voice sounded almost eerie.

Ron nodded, but was looking at him kind of queerly. "Sure you are, mate."

"No!" Harry looked stern. "I mean it. I know it's my job, and no one else's. I'm going to kill him." Clenching his fists, Harry went up to his room, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. Something about the way that Ginny stared after him made Ron worried, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Ron was worried about his little sister. She had made a big deal of getting over the crush she'd had on Harry, and had moved on to little adolescent crushes with other boys at school. Some of them weren't even Gryffindors. It seemed so normal, so much like what you'd expect a normal girl, going on fifteen years old, would do, that it seemed somehow out of character.

Ginny was so mental sometimes. She could act like a flighty teenager, chatting with the other girls about boys, but then there'd be something lurking underneath that reminded him that she'd almost died, and that she'd risked her life for her friends.

He wasn't sure how those pieces fit together, or if they even did. He wondered if one of them was the real Ginny, and the other just a mask that she wore for other people, or even just for her own sake. He wondered how well he really knew her, after all this time. Watching her watch Harry, he wondered if she'd really gotten over the crush at all.

Ron wasn't sure how he felt about that. It had all been a big joke in her first year, but it was starting to get less funny. It would be easier if he knew which Ginny cared about him, whether it was the somewhat zany, immature, flighty Ginny, that he'd have to warn off, or if it was the serious, dangerous, brave Ginny, that he'd be afraid to.

He shrugged off the worry for the moment -- Harry wasn't really letting anyone approach him that closely right now, the occasional Quidditch game aside, and he didn't need to risk ruining the summer right now. It looked like You-Know-Who was going to work hard enough at that without him.

Arthur looked at Ron. "We need to talk."

"Later, dear, you need your rest," Molly interrupted. "Here, children, help me get him upstairs."

Arthur didn't resist being helped upstairs, but insisted on having Ron stay with him. "I need to talk to you, now, alone."

Ginny looked ready to protest, but her father's stern tone, heard rarely in this house, didn't leave much room for disagreement. Molly pulled her downstairs to work on some fictional task, and Ron sat down next to his father.

"What is it, Dad?"

"I didn't want to worry everyone, but, well, the Order had heard that there was going to be a break in at the museum. I volunteered to go last night, but I didn't want to worry your Mum..."

"You saw him?" Ron interrupted, eyes wide as saucers.

Arthur nodded. "I'm very lucky. He only... only Cruciated me."

"That's lucky?" Ron was flabbergasted.

"It could have been the Killing Curse." Arthur's composed tone couldn't hide his sudden pallor, which let his son know just how close it could have been. Ron's mouth hung open. He could have lost his father, again.

Arthur continued with difficulty, "Ron, this is important. You saw Harry's face downstairs -- he means it, he'll try to kill him. He's not ready, though, and he can't do it alone."

"I don't know if I can keep him from trying, Dad. I tried to stop him last year, with Sirius, and he almost took my head off."

"I'm not asking you to stop him." Arthur was serious. "I'm asking you to help him, just as you always have. Be there for him, but... if you can, make sure that Dumbledore knows what you're doing, every step of the way. Or, if Dumbledore is out of touch, Snape."

"Snape? But Sirius would be alive if it weren't for that git."

"Ronald, you don't need to take that tone about a Professor," Arthur's spoke harshly. "I won't say that the man doesn't have his faults, but he's as incorruptible as Dumbledore. Maybe even..."

"What?"

"Nothing," Arthur shook his head. "Nothing for you to worry about. Now," he slapped his hands on his legs. "Just remember what I said, and not a word to anyone, alright?"

"Okay, Dad." Ron nodded. He left the room looking more sober than he had entered. Hermione kept giving him odd looks, and asking oblique questions, but he couldn't talk about it.

He had realized something. If his father had stopped telling him to keep out of trouble, that meant that not even his parents believed that it would be possible this year.

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A/N: Thanks as always to my beta, Kianna.