The excerpt, “Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and
think about it,” [Arthur] said in a constricted voice. “Well, all I can say is
that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment
on the Hogwarts Express, Harry,” inspired this story and comes directly from
pages 403 and 404 of the American edition of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood
special thank you goes out to my friend and fellow author KEDme for helping me
with this story. I’ve enjoyed our nightly IMs talking about characterization
and better ways to express various ideas as well as the antics of our preschool
many thanks to Lady Narcissa for the superb beta on this story. Lady Narcissa
helped to make sure this story was definitely in British English style. I am
indebted to her.
-- -- -- -- --
The post owl
arrived just after dinner, about twenty past six. It swooped across the soggy
garden toward the Burrow and landed on the kitchen window sill. Arthur Weasley
thought nothing of it as he traversed the last few meters to the door of his
shed; he knew his wife, Molly, who usually handled the post no matter what time
it arrived, would take care of whatever news this particular owl bore. He
sighed, wondering absently whether his youngest son, Ron, had liked the gold
watch they had sent him for his seventeenth birthday, then stepped into his own
The door closed
behind him with a soft thud and he was alone with his Muggle treasures, the
newest of which occupied a considerable amount of space on his workbench. The
machine had once belonged to a Muggle who had given it to a magical relative
who had eventually given it to Arthur out of exasperation because he couldn’t make
it work. That wasn’t surprising, Arthur reflected as his eyes adjusted to the
dim light coming through the small window to his left. Most Muggle artefacts
requiring eckeltricity didn’t work where there was an abundance of magic. But
this machine, this machine made eckeltricity using petrol.
approached the bench and studied the shiny red and black rectangle of tubular
metal framing which held the petrol tank above a small engine. The fact that
the two tyres holding the assembly off the bench were flat didn’t bother him at
all. He reached under the workbench and pulled out what he hoped was a
hand-held pump and set about inflating the tyres. That done, he stepped back,
marvelling at all the buttons and dials and perforated plastic rectangles that
adorned the main panel. “Honda Electric Generator” was painted across the top
of the panel along with a set of numbers. Just below this was a gauge reading
“Petrol Level” and another beside this read “Oil Pressure.” There was a switch
that read “240 volts” at the top and “120 volts” at the bottom, a second read
“Off.” The last section of the panel was devoted to four rectangular ports
that Arthur assumed were there to receive plugs.
Now how does
one get this to turn on? he
There was no
ignition switch on the main panel, so, with an effort, he managed to turn the
heavy machine so he could see the engine better. Ah-HA! Right in front
of him was something he recognized; a piece of plastic attached to a thick
string was labelled “Start.”
curiosity, Arthur reached up and pulled hard on the string. The machine
sputtered, but didn’t start. Arthur grinned madly. This thing starts like a
Muggle lawn mover! he thought and pulled harder and faster on the starter.
The generator suddenly coughed a great cloud of smoke which forced him to cast
an air cleaning spell before his next attempt. Four pulls and an aching arm
later, the generator roared to life. Arthur was so surprised that the
generator actually worked that he jumped backwards, hitting his head on a shelf
and squashing several of his other artefacts before his head cleared enough for
him to see again. The generator continued to roar.
Arthur sat down
on a stool and looked around for something to plug into one of the outlets. He
spied what he thought was an eckeltric tea pot and decided he would make
himself some tea. He opened the pot, turned it upside down and shook it;
several spiders dropped out and scampered away. Chuckling and thinking of Ron,
Arthur cast a cleaning charm on the interior of the pot and magically filled it
with water from his wand. He crossed his toes as he matched the tines on the
plug to the holes on one of the rectangular outlets in the main panel of the
generator. Several minutes later, the teapot began to steam and with a
satisfied smile, he conjured a tea cup and a tin of tea bags. This was
beginning to look like a very pleasant evening.
The door to the
shed suddenly burst open letting in a blast of cold, damp air; Arthur drew his
wand in alarm.
screamed over the noise of the generator. “SHUT THAT THING OFF!”
hesitate. He had seen this fearful expression and heard this particular tone
of terror in his wife’s voice only once before; four years ago when his daughter
had been dragged into the Chamber of Secrets by the monster that had arisen
from a diary.
“Molly, what is
it?” Fear gripped him as he crossed the shed and gathered his wife in his
held out a letter. “It’s from Hogwarts. Ron’s been poisoned!”
-- -- -- -- --
post owl landed on the kitchen sill at about twenty past six and began pecking
at the glass. Molly looked up from supervising dinner cleanup and the week’s
ironing and sighed, grateful for the interruption in Fleur’s endless recitation
of this week’s version of the Wedding Plans.
Molly interrupted, “would you see to the owl, please? I’m a bit busy at the
“Of course, Mrs
Weasley,” Fleur said. She rose gracefully from her chair where she was folding
towels and fairly floated to the window, making Molly wonder if the girl was
already practicing for her walk down the aisle.
creaked open and Fleur let out a surprised, “Oh!” as the owl cuffed her with
its wing in its eagerness to get to Molly. It landed on the family clock
which, as usual, sat atop a stack of Arthur’s freshly-pressed robes and held
out its leg. Molly untied the scroll of parchment and stepped back hurriedly
as the bird took wing again.
“Oo eez ze
letter for?” Fleur enquired as she shut the window against the cold drizzle
at the address. “Mr and Mrs Arthur Weasley,” she read aloud. “It looks like
something from Hogwarts. I recognize the handwriting.”
“I ‘ope eet eez
not bad news,” Fleur observed, going back to her towel folding. “My muzzer
never liked to get mail from Madam Max—”
“Most likely it
isn’t,” Molly interrupted swiftly heading off another endless story
about the way things had been done at Beauxbatons. “It’s probably Professor
McGonagall telling me about Ron’s newest adventure with Harry or that Ginny
needs yet another expensive book for one of her courses,” Molly said shaking
her head and setting the scroll on the table. “Life with children is never
dull and this latest school report can wait a few more minutes to be read.”
With that, she set off up the stairs with Arthur’s robes.
later, Molly rejoined Fleur at the kitchen table. The younger witch had made
tea while she was gone and Molly took a few relaxing (and fortifying) sips
before addressing herself to the letter.
It was indeed
from Minerva McGonagall, but the contents were anything but ordinary. In fact,
Molly knew something was horribly wrong the moment she opened the letter; the
professor’s normally tidy writing was almost a hasty scrawl:
Dear Mr and Mrs Weasley,
The Headmaster and I are sorry to inform you that your son, Ronald,
has been taken to the hospital wing due to an incidence of poisoning. He is
gravely ill and we request that you come to the school as soon as possible.
Please Floo-call me at my office to tell me when you will be arriving
as someone must meet you at the school’s gates.
Deputy Head Mistress and Head of Gryffindor House
Molly read the
letter a second time hardly believing what she was seeing. “No, no, not my
Ronnie,” she wailed, letting her teacup crash to the table.
Fleur looked up
in alarm as the hot liquid splashed on the piles of folded laundry. “Mrs
Weasley, what eez wrong? What does zee letter say?”
Fleur!” Molly cried frantically. “I must find Arthur!”
Fleur tried to
take the letter, but Molly clutched it firmly to her ample bosom and rose from
the table, looking anxiously about the room for her husband. Then she
remembered that he was going out to putter in his shed for a while.
screamed hastening out the door into the twilight.
response to her cry was a dull roar from something in Arthur’s shed. Molly
closed the distance between the house and the shed in record time and flung
open the door. Arthur whirled about, drawing his wand.
screamed over the noise of the machine occupying the workbench. “SHUT THAT
pressed a button which threw the little building into complete silence. He
lowered his wand. “Molly, what is it?”
emotions must have been evident, for a look of fear crossed Arthur’s features
as he flung himself across the shed and gathered her into his arms.
held out the letter. “It’s from Hogwarts. Ron’s been poisoned!”
-- -- -- -- --
How?” Arthur asked in disbelief, grabbing the letter and scanning Professor
McGonagall’s hastily written words.
“We must go to
him,” Molly whispered. “The clock didn’t change! His hand has been on ‘Mortal
Peril’ since last June just like the rest of the family’s. Oh, Arthur, I don’t
want to lose my baby boy without at least saying good-bye.”
controlled his own panic as he held her gently, “Now, Molly, don’t think such
thoughts.” He rubbed her back soothingly as he continued. “Albus Dumbledore
would have contacted us by now if Poppy wasn’t able to help Ron. Go get your
cloak. We’ll Apparate to Hogsmeade and be at the school in less than an hour.”
and left the shed, silent tears coursing down her pale cheeks. Arthur
unplugged the teapot, then followed her, pausing only to secure the shed door.
-- -- -- -- --
The walk to the
school seemed to take hours. The wind and rain bit through their heavy cloaks
and chilled them to the bone. However, Arthur didn’t feel it as his thoughts
were on his youngest son; his stomach turned to an icy lump that threatened to
leap out of his throat. They reached the gates and Molly sent her Patronus
across the magical barriers toward the castle where they knew Minerva
McGonagall was waiting for them.
thank goodness you’re here!” their friend and fellow Order member exclaimed as
she reached the gates. She let them in, then magically set the locks again.
happened?” Arthur demanded as they hurried to the stone steps of the castle.
exactly sure,” she replied. “You’ll have to talk to the Headmaster. He knows
the complete story; I know only what Mr. Potter related to me.”
the corridor that led to the hospital wing and Molly breathed, “Oh dear!” at
the sight of three frightened-looking teenagers standing outside its doors.
Ginny was the
first to reach them. “Mum, Dad! You came!” she cried, flinging herself into
Molly’s arms. As Molly comforted her, Arthur approached Harry and Hermione,
who were now glancing everywhere but the doors to the hospital.
Arthur asked extending his hand first to Harry, then Hermione.
Mr Weasley,” Harry said tightly, his voice sounding quite pained and somewhat
guilty. “Madam Pomfrey won’t let us in.”
From the look
on Harry’s face Arthur instantly deduced that Ron’s poisoning might have
something to do with the stoic young wizard standing in front of him. The keen
sense of hearing he had cultivated since Bill was born caught Harry’s mumbled,
“It was my box of Chocolate Cauldrons that started this whole mess,” as the
young man studied his shoes.
true, Harry, I don’t blame you,” Arthur said gently meeting the young wizard’s
startled gaze. “I blame whoever was callous enough to blithely put poison
where someone was sure to ingest it.”
He glanced at
Hermione who had yet to say a thing; her tense expression reminded him of how
Molly had looked a year ago at St. Mungo’s after the snake attack. It didn’t
take a very sharp eye to discern that Hermione might fancy Ron. Even if
she did fancy his son, Arthur could tell that she was deeply troubled; there
was something going on that he just couldn’t put a finger on...
disentangled herself from their daughter’s embrace as Professor McGonagall held
the door to the infirmary open and gestured for them to go in. Arthur smiled
bracingly at Harry and Hermione, then followed his wife inside.
Ron was the only
patient in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey stood beside his bed, carefully
dribbling potion into Ron’s mouth with a teaspoon. Her expression was guarded
but serene, which eased Arthur’s state of mind immensely as he gazed at the
pale face of his youngest son.
“Will he be all
right?” Molly asked tremulously.
nodded. “Yes, Molly, Ron will pull through. I was doubtful for a while that
he would survive until we knew exactly which poison he had ingested, but thanks
to Harry Potter’s quick thinking and the fact that Horace Slughorn corked the
bottle immediately to preserve its contents, Ron will be up and about in a week
goodness,” Molly breathed and reached for one of Ron’s hands.
Arthur put his
arm around his wife and drew her close as he caressed the top of Ron’s head.
This simple gesture was somehow comforting; he hadn’t been allowed to touch his
son like this since well before Ron had left for Hogwarts five and a half years
ago; Arthur revelled in the softness of the fiery stands slipping through his
fingers. A lump rose in Arthur’s throat. He remembered the loving trust in
Ron’s eyes as he had looked at his father back then; it was the look of an
innocent child that said everything was all right with the world as long as
Daddy was nearby. The lump grew as Arthur realized that, once again —due to
distance and circumstances—he had failed as a father to be available when Ron
needed him. Yet a small voice inside his head told him that no matter how far
the distance between them, his son would always come to him for assurance or
heavily, fighting to control his thoughts. Why my son? Why Ron? He hasn’t
done anything to deserve this! I should have been there for him more
often! I’m the one hunting Dark wizards by night!
her head back to look into his face. Arthur shrugged; he knew they must be
thinking along the same lines at the moment.
It had been a
long time since he and Ron had spent any real time together alone as father and
son. The memory of the pleasant hours they had spent over the chess board when
Ron was younger edged forward now. Both of them remembered fondly the night
when eight-year-old Ron had first captured his father’s king and held it aloft
as he raced around the house telling everyone who would listen that he was the
winner of the game. Then there was the incident with Fred, George and the acid
pop. While Molly had disciplined the twins, Ron had crawled up into Arthur’s
lap and wound his little arms around his father’s neck. The two had talked a
long time about forgiveness and hurt feelings. It had been a difficult lesson
for both because of Ron’s stubbornness, but what they had shared that night had
strengthened their relationship.
There was so
much Arthur wanted to share with Ron now: sage words about life, advice about
enjoying his youth before stepping into the complicated world of the adult
wizard, guidance about preserving friendships and cultivating romance with a
special witch even in these difficult times. If Ron were to die tonight—even
with the assurances from Madam Pomfrey that Ron would pull through—they would
never get to spend the time Arthur wanted to have with him, the last of his
sons. The last of my sons…
swallowed hard against the lump in his throat in an effort to remain calm
before the unflappable Poppy Pomfrey.
Molly. We need to go upstairs,” Minerva said quietly from behind them.
Arthur guided Molly back into the corridor where they were accosted by the
three teenagers waiting for news of their brother and friend.
Molly smiled at
them as she said, “Ron’s going to be fine. Madam Pomfrey is seeing to that.
We’re going up to talk with Professor Dumbledore now. We’ll be back as soon as
“May we go in?”
Ginny asked anxiously as the group walked toward the marble staircase in the
Madam Pomfrey isn’t done with Ron yet. She’ll let you in when he’s ready for
his daughter’s shoulders sag. He distinctly heard her grumble, “All we’ve done
all day is wait,” as she and Harry and Hermione turned back toward the
hospital. Her words caused the corners of Arthur’s mouth to twitch upward and
he would have smiled fully if the situation hadn’t been so grave.
guarding the entrance to Albus Dumbledore’s office sprang aside at their
approach, allowing Arthur and Molly to follow Professor McGonagall quickly up
the revolving stairs. The door to the office was open, so the three walked in
Molly, Arthur,” Professor Dumbledore greeted them. “I wish these were happier
circumstances, but I hear from Poppy that young Ron will make a complete
recovery.” He gestured toward three chairs before his desk.
happened, Headmaster?” Arthur asked, taking a seat.
Over the next
twenty minutes Professor Dumbledore related the series of events which had led
Harry and Ron to Professor Slughorn’s office and the ill-fated birthday
“By all rights,
Ron should be dead,” concluded Professor Dumbledore. “But thanks to Harry
remembering the bezoar, your son was protected from the poison in the mead long
enough for additional help to arrive.”
Molly, who had
been clutching Arthur’s hand, gave a little whimper and covered her face with
her free hand.
“Do you know
who gave the mead to Professor Slughorn, sir?” Arthur asked, his voice taking
on the authoritative tone he sometimes needed to use with unscrupulous trinket
shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Arthur. I don’t even have a suspicion.”
“Then you have
no idea who the poison was really meant for, do you?” Molly demanded. “It
could have been any of the students or teachers!”
Slughorn mentioned a possibility which I am not at liberty to discuss at this
time. Suffice it to say that someone gave the mead to my Potions Master to
give to someone else and Horace Slughorn never delivered it. The fact that Ron
was poisoned in Professor Slughorn’s office shows just how unscrupulously cold-hearted
the poisoner was, because he seems not to care about how many people he kills
in the process of delivery.”
doesn’t explain why Professor Slughorn chose that particular bottle to toast
Ron’s birthday,” Molly grumbled, staring fixedly at the Headmaster.
didn’t answer right away. “The only thing Horace said about it was that he
knew the taste was somewhat similar to Butterbeer, which the boys were familiar
with and liked. He also knew the alcohol content of that particular beverage
was lower than that of firewhiskey,” he added with a slight smile. “It
wouldn’t have looked very good for Ron and Harry to show up for their
Apparition lesson intoxicated, now would it?”
Molly sat up
straight. “I should think not!” she said indignantly. “What put the idea to
toasting Ron’s birthday with alcohol in the first place?”
“I assume that
Ron was feeling rather embarrassed by what happened with the box of Chocolate
Cauldrons,” Albus said by way of explanation. “Professor McGonagall told me
that Harry stumbled all over his words when he related that part of the story
to her, especially since the chocolates in question had been in his trunk in
the first place. It seems to me that Professor Slughorn was only trying to
lighten the aftermath of the love potion.”
“Besides, this is
Ron’s seventeenth birthday,” Arthur reminded her with a little exasperation
edging his voice. “He’s of age now. He can legally consume adult beverages,
“I don’t care,
Arthur, whether Ron is seventeen or seventy! The fact remains that our son was
Arthur!” Professor Dumbledore interjected, “what is important right now is not
who intended to poison whom, but what was done to save your son! If Harry
hadn’t known to use a bezoar as an antidote, Ron would be dead now and I would
be considering whether or not to close the school!”
down immediately. “I apologize, sir,” he said contritely. “Do you know what
the poison was?” Molly continued to glare at Dumbledore.
“We do. Professor
Slughorn gave the bottle to Madam Pomfrey, who used a measure of the contents
to prepare a more effective antidote. I think you might have seen her
administering it as you arrived. She has been sending me hourly reports on
Ron’s condition since he was taken to the hospital wing before breakfast this
Dumbledore’s phoenix, suddenly left his perch in a flash of red and gold. As
Dumbledore smiled, “Ah, here comes one now,” the bird reappeared and dropped a
small piece of parchment onto the desk before settling down in his place again.
Dumbledore opened the note and smiled at Arthur and Molly. “Good news. All of
Madam Pomfrey’s readings of Ron’s vital signs show them to be greatly
improved. She’s going to let Harry, Ginny and Hermione sit with him beginning
at eight o’clock. Now back to business.
arrived I asked Nymphadora Tonks and the other Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade to
make a thorough investigation of this matter. They agreed and I requested that
they use whatever Ministry resources they had available to get me some answers
to the questions I have. The bottle of mead is in their custody for analysis
and will be used as part of the evidence should the perpetrator be apprehended
and bound over for trial. Hopefully, Tonks and her colleagues will be able to
report back within a week with something solid that can be acted upon.”
your efforts, Albus,” Molly said looking between her husband and the
suddenly occurred to Arthur. “Professor,” he began hesitantly, “does Ron…do
I…does Ginny…do, do we... owe Harry life debts now?”
Molly breathed, “Oh, my!”
Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Yes, Arthur. I’m certain that you do,” he said
his eyes. He wasn’t ready to face the fact that he and his family were
indebted to Harry Potter. No, that wasn’t right. He would willingly help
Harry if it meant that the Wizarding world would be free from Voldemort. He
just wasn’t prepared at the moment to die doing so.
Headmaster said, breaking into Arthur’s thoughts, “That doesn’t mean you or
your family has to die. It just means that you must be ready to protect Harry
with everything you have, including your life if necessary.” He paused.
Finally, he said, “Harry didn’t physically put himself in harm’s way for you,
Arthur. Nor did he suffer any from saving Ronald tonight. He did with Ginny
in the Chamber, however, and I think she realizes just how lucky she was to
have Harry fight for her life there. I also think that, having talked with her
on several occasions, she knows the seriousness of what Harry did for her and
that she plans to be with Harry wherever and whenever he must face Voldemort.”
relieved, Arthur could only nod as a huge lump formed in his throat. He
glanced at Molly who took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.
Arthur, to me, Harry is our seventh son,” she said gazing into his eyes. “I
also know that if any of our six natural sons were in trouble, as their parents
we would fight to the death to keep them alive: Lily Potter did that already
for Harry... and so should we.” She sighed. “I now have one more son to
protect,” she murmured, and Arthur knew she was thinking of the Boggart she had
seen over a year ago at Grimmauld Place.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I know this is a serious subject and that you
need time to adjust to it. However, please know that what you are already
doing for Harry is just as important as having someone defend him. Please
continue to open your home to him because yours is the only positive example of
family life he knows,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Harry benefits from
your generosity every time you welcome him to The Burrow.”
Molly smiled at
the Headmaster. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said.
-- -- -- -- --
visitors gathered around Ron’s bed looked up as Arthur and Molly entered the
hospital ward. As Molly seized Harry in a bone-cracking hug it occurred to
Arthur the others were looking especially grave; he wondered what they had been
talking about. He thought he had heard Hermione say something about a ‘victim’
and speculated that his children and Hagrid had been discussing nearly the same
subject as he and his wife had just done in the Headmaster’s office.
told us how you saved him with the bezoar,” Molly sobbed, bringing Arthur out
of his ruminations. “Oh, Harry, what can I say? You’ve saved Ginny... you
saved Arthur... now you’ve saved Ron...”
“Don’t be... I
didn’t...” muttered Harry awkwardly.
family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it,” Arthur
said in a constricted voice. “Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day
for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts
distinctly embarrassed and at a loss for word as Madam Pomfrey approached.
“Please, everyone, the rule in this hospital is six visitors only per patient.
If I do the addition correctly there are at least two people too many at Mr.
Weasley’s bedside and I’d appreciate it if the situation was remedied at once,”
she commanded as if the presence of three adults, two of whom were the
patient’s parents, wasn’t nearly the right amount of supervision for six of
Ron’s friends and siblings.
glanced at Harry who was trying desperately to stifle a yawn. “We’d better be
getting back to Gryffindor Tower,” she said glancing at her watch. “It’s after
curfew and we’ll be lucky to reach the portrait hole without running into Mr.
Filch or Mrs. Norris.”
away from Ron’s bed. “I’ll take you up, Hermione. I’m a teacher for goodness’
sakes, you’ll be safe with me,” he said, extending his hand to Arthur.
coming, Hagrid,” Arthur said with a sincere smile.
Hermione and Harry a quick hug each and the three bid the others a good-night
as George whispered something to Harry that made him smile slightly.
Molly turned to face Ron’s bed again, but continued to watch over their
shoulders as Harry, Hermione and Hagrid left the hospital.
“He’s such a
lonely boy,” Molly murmured to Arthur wistfully her gaze lingering on Harry.
“We owe him so much.”
his gaze following Hermione. “Something’s happened to her this year. She
looked more upset than the rest of us combined. I wonder…”
“It may take a
while longer for our son to know the truth, you know,” Molly smiled and patted
his arm. They turned their attention back to the young people gathered by
Ron’s bed and Arthur put his arm around Molly’s shoulders.
His gaze landed
on Ginny, sitting with her chin propped in her hand. She, like Hermione,
looked a bit peaky and rather tired as she spoke quietly with Fred and George.
All through their brief time together tonight, Arthur had noticed, Ginny’s eyes
had kept straying to where Harry stood near Hermione. She’s fancied him for
so long, he thought. He felt another lump rising in his throat as
he remembered how young and vulnerable his daughter had looked that miraculous
night at the end of her first year; she had been so small and distraught and
brave Harry not much bigger as he and Ron had triumphantly led her and
Professor Lockhart into Minerva’s office. Ginny was older now, but at times
like this she still looked as if she needed someone to protect her, to hold her
close and comfort her; he wondered whether there would ever be someone special
for his daughter, someone who understood her, someone as gentle and noble as
Harry... She’s growing up so fast. Maybe some day Harry will choose Ginny
as I’ve hoped all along... just as I hope Ron will choose Hermione...
tiredly, looking back at Ron’s pale face. “He’s going to be all right, you
know that.” He said it as much for Molly’s benefit as for his own.
nodded and leaned against him, stifling a yawn. It had been such a long day.
“Mum, have a
seat,” Ginny offered, getting up. “I’m going to ask Madam Pomfrey for some
water. Does anyone else want some?”
Molly took the
proffered chair gratefully. “You’re a dear, Ginny. Thank you.”
As Ginny left,
Arthur glanced around at his assembled family thinking, I hope we don’t have
to get used to scenes like this. We’ve been lucky so far; no funerals… yet.
-- -- -- -- --
putting Ginny to bed in the bed next to Ron’s, Molly ushered the twins out the
door making them promise to go directly to Hogsmeade and Apparate to The Burrow
instead of their flat. Arthur then sat down in one of the chairs next to Ron’s
bed. He and Molly would stay until Ron regained consciousness, keeping watch,
just as good parents should.