Chapter 32 : Ron's Alive
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The waiting was the worst part.
The ticking of the clock was the one of the few sounds to be heard in the otherwise silent waiting room. Harry’s eyes were stuck to it as another second passed in a never-ending loop of ticking, another second going by after the previous. The footsteps of the healers were barely audible along with the quiet whispers as they chatted amongst themselves, whether it be about the patients or which healers shared a quick shag in the storage room (Clara and Lewis, according to what Harry had overheard).
The entire family was there to wait for an update on Ron’s status, even Charlie, who had come from Romania after his father had contacted him. Fleur had single tears running down her cheeks, her usually rosy cheeks matching her red nose. Bill sat next to her, a distressed look on his face as he wiped tears off of her cheeks. Charlie and Percy were both leaning their heads against the wall, their eyes closed. George was constantly pacing, muttering to himself as he strode from one point to another.
Hermione, on the other hand, was in a state of shock. After she had attempted to fight her way into Ron’s room, her body and mind had simply given up. Sitting in a chair for hours, she hadn’t moved an inch. Her gaze was still set straight forward, her bloodshot eyes unfocused. She held Harry’s hand tightly, the only way Harry knew that she was still there. Otherwise nobody would have noticed her.
It had been hours since they had arrived at St. Mungos, and still there was no word on either Ginny’s or, more importantly, Ron’s condition. Harry knew his wife was a fighter, and that she would walk out of that hospital bed as if there weren’t bandages wrapped all around her. Even taking that into mind, he still worried. He couldn’t bear to bring his thoughts to Ron, but that’s all he could think about.
As for Mrs. Weasley, she was as distressed as anyone expected her to be. She sat with her husband on the worn leather couch, his shoulder wet from the tears of his wife.
“I can’t lose another one,” Molly sobbed into her husband’s shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly. “I c-can’t Arthur.”
“Shhh Molly, everything will be fine.” He replied to her while rubbing her back, his expression showing he wasn’t sure of what he was saying. “It’ll be just fine.”
Harry hoped, for both his family and for selfish reasons, that Ron would come out of this. Whether he have a limp or permanent scar on his forehead, he just wanted his brother back.
“Mr. Potter.” Someone called out, Harry’s head snapping up. His eyes met with the healer who had called his name, and she gestured towards herself. Harry picked up his body from the chair, ignoring the small pain from his leg, and walked over to the doorway. She held the swinging door open for him as he limped through, hearing the door swoop behind him.
“Is something wrong with Ginny?” Harry asked the woman as she strode up beside him.
“Ginevra is more than okay, we are just needing to keep her overnight to observe her, in case we missed anything.” She informed him, and gesturing towards a door on the left side of the hallway. He opened it to find an office. “However, your wife will not be the topic of our discussion.”
“Oh.” Harry spoke shakily, as he sat down in the seat across from her desk.
“Yes, I need to ask you a few questions about the attack, if you are able to answer them.”
“Is he okay?” Harry asked, completely ignoring her last statement. He fidgeted in his seat, his discomfort level increasing rapidly. His palms were getting sweaty and his arms because restless.
“Mr. Potter, we are here to-,”
“Can you just tell me if he’s alive?” Harry interrupted, clutching the arm of the chair with white knuckles with his eyes squeezed shut. “Please.”
The healer hesitated for a moment, shuffling through a few papers as she put off her answer. She let out a loud sigh, and then met Harry’s eyes.
“He’s alive, but barely.” She told him, a professional tone to her voice. “We have done everything we can to keep him alive temporarily, but we need to know more about his injury so we can cure it. Which is why…”
“You brought me here.” Harry finished her sentence, and she nodded with an apologetic smile. “So I assume you want the whole story?”
“Anything that would pertain to Mr. Weasley’s injuries, yes.”
‘Okay’ Harry thought, taking a deep breath. ‘Here is goes.’
Harry walked out of the office a half hour later, his eyes fighting to stay open. His body was telling him to give in and go to sleep, and he felt like he would just fall to the ground and sleep in any given place. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
His family was hurt, broken in small pieces, but was still held together by the small hope that everything would be okay. Ginny’s return came as a reward, but it had its cost. Everyone waited anxiously awaiting Ron’s news, sleeping in the waiting room, despite the requests of the staff to return home. Nobody could leave, and nobody would.
Taking two steps into the corridor, Harry immediately turned left, walking away from the waiting room. Walking through the ‘healer’s only’ doors, he strode cautiously down the hallways, twisting and turning the paths as if he had done it a thousand times. He walked past countless doors, quickly scanning the paperwork in a bin next to the door. Names were piled up along with their condition, some of them quite unfortunate. A teenage boy, around seventeen years old, had a beater club charmed to smack him in the head repeatedly. Harry wondered what that boy had done to deserve that.
After a few minutes of searching, he reached the final few doors at the end of the hallways, knowing one of these was Ginny. It had to be. He strode up to the last door to see not one but two names attached to the same paper.
Ginevra Potter. Age 23. Torture scars and injuries. To be released if there are no complications with test results.
Ronald Weasley. Age 25. Severe injuries, cause unknown. Possible fatal injuries, monitor closely.
“Mr. Potter,” A healer tapped on his shoulder, and Harry sighed. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I just wanted to see them.” Harry said quietly, turning around to face the healer. “That’s all.”
Harry watched as she stood there, fidgeting as if she were arguing with herself. After a few seconds, she gave a small nod.
“You may go in. Keep in mind both of their conditions are delicate.” She warned, nodding towards the door. “Even if your wife has been a bit difficult, she’s still delicate.” Harry smiled as he thanked her, and turned towards the door.
After taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door quietly; tip toeing into the room, careful not to startle anyone inside. He shut the door at a glacial pace until he heard the door click slightly, a sigh coming from his lips as he turned to face the room.
Tucked tightly into a ball, Ginny was curled up on the bed, her arm reaching towards the left side. Her hair was fanned out all over the pillow, covering most of her face. A small smile crept up on Harry’s face, realizing she was reaching towards his side of the bed, and his fingers longed to be laced with hers, but he needed to let her recover. Glancing to the other side of the room, Harry saw a curtain raised, knowing Ron was behind the thin piece of fabric.
He just couldn’t bring himself to look.
“The friends and family of Mr. Weasley.” A healer called out, and a crowd of fifteen people stood up immediately, their attention focused on the now startled healer. He walked up to the family, surveying the people. Harry stood near the front, awaiting the news. Before the healer spoke again, Harry felt a hand slip through his. Hermione gripped his hand tightly, a small tear rolling down her cheek. The suspense in the room was nearly killing them as they waited, the healer waiting for Mrs. Weasley to stand, but continued after he realized that she was too fatigued to do so.
“Mr. Weasley will be fine,” He said with a smile, the tension in the room immediately melting to nothing. “He will be kept here for a few days for recovery, but other than that, he will be just fine. Mr. Weasley has his wife and Mr. Potter down as his emergency contact, so I would like to speak to both of them.”
Harry stood up, Hermione’s hand still in his, and followed the doctor through the doors and into the office he had visited before. They sat down across from his desk, Hermione’s hand eventually letting go of her tight grip.
“As you probably already know, Mr. Weasley’s condition is quite unusual.” The healer said as he closed the door behind them, walking over behind the desk. “And, based on observations from Mr. and Mrs. Potter, we’ve determined that he was not hit with a killing curse, but instead a unique cruciatus curse.”
“A…cruciatus, sir?” Harry asked. “I specifically remember seeing a green light.”
“You did, Mr. Potter. But due to your condition at the time, all observations could be slightly skewed from reality. It was, in fact, Rodolphus Lestrange that was hit with the killing curse, cast by one of his accomplices that fortunately misaimed his spell.”
“So he’s dead?”
Harry’s question was answered with a nod.
“But that’s not possible.” Hermione muttered quietly beneath her breath.
“That’s not possible, sir. Ron’s situation can’t be what you’ve proposed. The effects of a cruciatus curse are not the symptoms Ron is experiencing, so it simply can’t be what you’re suggesting.” She said, and the healer nodded his head slowly.
“We understand that you may think that way, but since the situation is unique, we cannot go off of facts we already know. After running multiple tests, it’s been determined that Mr. Weasley was hit with an internal cruciatus curse, the pain going to his brain, causing him to fall into a curse induced coma.”
“Is he awake yet?” Harry asked, completely ignoring the fact he saw him asleep less than four hours ago.
“He’s woken up a few times, but fell asleep almost immediately after. So he must be kept until he’s deemed suitable to return home. Until then, he’s to be kept in his room under constant care.”
“Is there a way I can stay here with him?” Hermione asked, looking down at her lap. “I’m not sure if I can go home without him.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out.”
Harry felt someone shaking him, the world turning from a dull black to a blurred mixture of whites and grays. The waiting room soon came into focus, and he opened his eyes to find a pair of cinnamon eyes staring right back into his. Without even thinking, as if it was instinct, Harry jumped up and placed a kiss on his wife’s lips, feeling a smile on her lips. He
“I heard you visited me.” She whispered as he leant his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.
“It was awful, Gin. The waiting.” Harry confessed, his eyes staying shut. “I just couldn’t stand not knowing if you were okay.”
“I know love, I know.” He smiled as he opened his eyes.
“So you passed all your tests?”
“So we can go home?” Harry asked.
“We can go home.”
Now did you really think I was going to kill Ron? ;) Yeah, this chapter’s a little rushed and short. But let’s not focus on the fact I wrote it in less than 2 hours, no editing cause I was done with it. Let’s have a party down in my review box instead; I’ve got the Wi-Fi.
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