Ron Weasley and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Chapter Four: Ron Weasley and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Ron pounded his fist on the wall in frustration, ignoring the sharp pain he felt lancing through his fingers. What in the hell was happening to him?

It had all started earlier that year in Professor Henry's Advanced Potions class. He'd found himself sneaking back to the storage cabinet while the young professor's back was turned, pocketing a tiny vial of clear liquid. It had been an odd feeling – he'd done it; he'd wanted to do it – but it didn't feel like him.

He'd gone upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, dumped the little vial in Hermione's tea, waited for her to drink it... and before he knew it, his arm had lifted and he was saying 'Petrificus Partialis!' Words had begun pouring from his mouth, and he was helpless to stop it.

He'd thought he was going mad, but then he remembered Professor Moody's lesson on the Unforgivable Curses, especially the Imperius Curse. That same feeling of wanting to do something, but not knowing why... not caring that it wasn't his voice telling him to do these things.

He'd wanted to talk to Harry and Hermione about it, but neither of them were speaking to him. He began to research on his own – who had cast it? He'd always been hopeless at resisting the curse, so he'd have to find out who had cast it if he hoped to stop them. Telling a professor wouldn't do any good – there was a reason no one could prove whether the Death Eaters after the first war who said they'd been under the curse actually had been. If a victim of the Imperius Curse were given Veritaserum, they would confess to performing all those acts themselves, even that they had wanted to do these things. Unless you knew the name of the person who had put you under the curse, it was hopeless.

Then there had been the incident yesterday. He'd come in the door and found himself calling Hermione... that. He'd tried again to tell her about the curse, but she wouldn't listen.

Suddenly, it didn't seem so important. He felt an overwhelming urge to leave. He crept downstairs, knowing that he would need to Apparate as soon as he got outside. He didn't know where, but again, it didn't seem to matter.

Once the stomach-wrenching feeling of Apparition passed, he found himself in a narrow alleyway. There, at the end of the alley, was a man robed in black. Gee, could he think of a less stereotypical bad guy costume? he thought, looking at the man. Ron could barely make out the gleam of blonde hair beneath the man's cloak's deep hood.

Good. You've come. I have work for you, Mr. Weasley.

He heard the voice in his head.

"Who are you?"

I am no one of consequence. You will tell no one of this meeting. You will go back to your home when we have finished here, and you will behave as normal. Do you understand me?

Ron felt a blissful blankness invade his mind. He tried to concentrate, to throw off what he now knew was the Imperius Curse, but to no avail. He wasn't strong enough; if only he could be like Harry...

Do you understand me?

He nodded, unable to fight anymore.

You will find him for me. Albus Dumbledore.

"Are you mad? He's dead!"

Do not be so sure. We believe there is a reason he chose the phoenix as his symbol. You will listen for news of him, and also for the plans of the Order of the Phoenix. You will report back here in two weeks' time... and believe me, the consequences will be... unpleasant if you have nothing to report.

A vision of his mother, of Hermione, of his brothers all dead flashed in front of his eyes.

"No!"

He poured all of his strength into breaking the connection. Slowly, jerkily, he moved his wand to point at the robed figure.

You think to fight me? Crucio!

The pain was like nothing he'd ever known. He gritted his teeth, determined to defend his family and friends.

"Protego!"

The Shield Charm was weak, but it held long enough for him to get his bearings. His attacker was faster, though, and sent a Slicing Hex straight for him. His Shield Charm absorbed the spell, and then shattered. He was wide open, a sitting duck.

He didn't hear the incantation for the next hex, but he did know that as soon as it hit, the world turned upside down. Up was down, left was right, black was white... he couldn't tell which way his attacker was, much less which way to move. Pain lanced across his left side, and he felt warm blood trickle down his leg. He crumpled to the ground, and in desperation as his world faded, he screamed.

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"Hermione, Hermione, wake up!" a familiar voice hissed in her ear.

"Huhwhaa?"

"Wake up! Ron's been attacked and taken to St. Mungo's!"

That had the desired effect. Ginny started handing her clothes as she hurriedly put them on, not even noticing that her jumper was on backwards until Ginny pointed it out. The girls dashed down the stairs to find Molly scrawling a message on a piece of parchment.

"Who's that to?" asked Ginny, pulling on her trainers.

"It's to your father. The place he's staying at doesn't have a Floo connection."

Arthur Weasley was staying in the Muggle world for a week, on orders of the new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour. He was to 'feel out' what the Muggles thought of the situation – the Dementors affected them, even if they couldn't see them. He was also to research various Muggle technologies that could be useful in the war against Voldemort. This was a clear violation of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Act, but as they say, all's fair in love and war. The Death Eaters certainly weren't going to use Muggle technology, and the side of the Light needed all the help it could get.

"How's Ron – I mean, Ronald?"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips at hearing Hermione call Ron 'Ronald' but continued, "He's unconscious. Prolonged exposure to the Cuciatus Curse, as well as a nasty Slicing Hex that's resisting all attempts to heal. Mundungus Fletcher found him in Knockturn Alley, of all places."

Hermione got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the putrid green line in her Arithmancy equations.

"You all go on... I have something I need to get. I'll be along in a second," she said, racing back up the stairs.

Once upstairs, she hurriedly began shoving books and parchment into her bag. She'd just shouldered it and was prepared to head back down to the fireplace when she heard a muffled explosion up in the attic.

She found the attic door heavily warded, but she thought she heard muffled cursing. She inhaled deeply, wondering if there was a fire and if Mrs. Weasley's fire wards extended into the attic.

"That's odd," she thought. The only thing that should have been in the attic was the house ghoul, but she distinctly smelled arugula, ginger, and angel hair flax – all ingredients in a powerful healing potion. Curious, she tried to break the attic ward, but it was far beyond her skill level. Puzzled, she headed back downstairs. She'd have to tell Mrs. Weasley about this.

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"Healing potions? My, the attic ghoul must be getting ambitious! That's the only thing up there, dear. It must have been your imagination," Mrs. Weasley said in a tone that brooked no nonsense and left no doubt in Hermione's mind that she'd not be getting any answers here. "Ron's awake. The Aurors are in there talking to him now, but we're allowed in once they're done."

As if on cue, a short woman with curly strawberry blonde hair stepped out of the room on the right. "Molly? We're done here. You can go in. The Healers just gave him a Sleeping Draught, so I'd say he won't be up long."

"Thanks, Miss Easley. Come on, kids. Let's go see him."

Ron's eyes were closing as they entered the room. "Hi, Mum."

"Hi, Ronnie. What happened to you?"

"I... tried to tell you yesterday... I got hit with an Imperius Curse... a few months ago... can't fight it..."

Guilt washed over Hermione. How could they not have noticed? She knew how hopeless Ron was at resisting the Imperius Curse. He'd even tried to tell them, but she'd been too angry to listen.

She didn't even hear the rest of the family's words to him. She simply stood in the back of the tiny room, wishing the floor would swallow her up. She didn't look up until Mrs. Weasley touched her arm as she walked past. "You should say something to him, Hermione."

She walked over to the bed where Ron lay still and pale. She bent over and kissed him on the forehead, saying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." His hand reached up and clumsily patted hers. "S'okay, 'Mione... It's not your fault. But I... wanna sleep now..."

She squeezed his hand and then left to rejoin the rest of the Weasleys and Harry in the hall.

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They lunched quietly at the Leaky Cauldron. Tonks joined them, saying that the Aurory didn't have any clues on who would've cursed Ron.

"But you do know he was cursed, right? I thought they couldn't ever really tell that sort of thing," said Harry, poking at the remains of his lunch.

"Well, usually, we can't. This time, though, we had a Sothian."

Everyone, including Hermione, looked at Tonks with a confused expression.

"What's a Sothian?" asked Hermione, ashamed that she'd never even heard the term.

"I thought you were supposed to be a know-it-all! Sothians are a lot like Metamorphmagi in that they are really rare. It's impossible to lie in the presence of a Sothian; they're even better than Veritaserum. They can detect the Imperius Curse, too. Unfortunately, though, other than that, they're almost like Squibs. Most of them can hardly use magic – I don't believe Miss Easley even has a wand. She's the first one in over two hundred years."

They discussed Sothians for a bit longer, and then Mrs. Weasley reminded them that they were due at Hogwarts for the reading of Professor Dumbledore's will. They settled the tab with Tom and then Flooed to Headmistress McGonagall's office.

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Minerva McGonagall was her usual acerbic self when they arrived. Without any ado other than tea and biscuits from one of her numerous tartan tins, she began to read the Headmaster's will.

Molly Weasley received two thick envelopes for her and Arthur, as well as a tidy sum of Galleons. Fred and George got some curious silver instruments as well as recipes for some of the Headmaster's favorite trick potions and sweets, with a note saying that laughter was a light in these dark times, and that their work was noble. Molly scoffed at that.

For Bill, there were several books on Dark curses, as well as some more silver instruments that would be 'essential' for anyone wanting to become a first class cursebreaker. For Charlie, there was a single egg, red with silver veins. Charlie said he'd never seen its like and eagerly began reading the enclosed instructions for hatching, care, and feeding.

Harry received a cottage in Hogsmeade, as well as a large crate of assorted items. He laughed when he pulled out a pair of thick woolen socks, though he wouldn't say why.

Headmistress McGonagall wouldn't discuss what she had received, nor would she tell them what the other professors had gotten. Finally, Hermione's turn came. McGonagall walked over to a large, sheet-covered object in the corner of the room.

"This, Miss Granger, was left for you," she said, pulling the sheet off.

There stood a handsome mahogany wardrobe, carved with lions and centaurs and a tiny lamppost that flickered and trees that really moved in a wind only they could feel. There was a note affixed to the front in a loopy handwriting she thought she'd seen before.

You have a Witch and a Wardrobe, Miss Granger. Now, I wonder, is there a Lion to go with it?

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The chapter title is from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst.

As always, none of this would be possible without Cassandra and WickedlyWanton, who rock my socks with their beta skills.