A Mourning to Remember

Chapter 3: Innocence & Instinct

Memory is a child walking along a seashore; you never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.

~ Pierce Harris

*****

Immediately, the cottage disappeared, and they were back in the imposing drawing room of Malfoy Manor.

He was now being dragged away from Harry and the others, yanked into the middle of the room by the roots of his hair.

Bellatrix towered over him, sneering.

"Where did you get the sword?"

In vain, he scrambled to think of something—anything.

She raised her wand, and he steeled himself for the inevitable pain. But it didn't come.

In amazement, he stared down at himself, watching as his body reacted to the agony he couldn't feel.

Ron heard shrieking and sobbing, and with a pang, he realised it was coming from the depths of him, somewhere deep inside that he never knew was there.

Lestrange then shrieked another indistinguishable command.

There was a grunt, then coarse laughter as his legs gave out while being dragged to his feet.

"Don't worry, I got you girlie."

A small moan escaped his lips as Bellatrix advanced, finally stopping inches from his face.

"That's just a taster, Mudblood. If you know what's good for you, you'll tell me how you got it."

His brain was being tugged in a million different directions; he had to make something up, try to get her off the scent—

But before he could even finish the thought, the Manor faded and he knew that his thoughts were no longer his own...

Ron heard, as though she were miles from him, "If you're not going to tell me, missy, then you're going to have to show me."

He was now on the Hogwarts Express for the first time, passing by a compartment, when he spotted a youth with flaming orange hair chatting with a frail-looking boy sporting untidy jet-black hair and crooked glasses.

He instantly recognised the infamous Harry Potter, (he had read plenty about him already,) but he found his gaze lingering on the other boy.

He wanted to impress him in particular, so he started blathering on about all the course books he had learned over the summer.

To his dismay, the red-headed boy just stared at him in puzzlement.

"I'm Hermione Granger by the way, and—you are?"

"Err...Ron Weasley."

Ron, he thought as he turned to head back to his compartment.

I hope he's in Gryffindor...

The scene disappeared, and he now saw his younger self being clobbered by the White Queen in the catacombs of Hogwarts.

He cried out as he watched him fall to the ground with a muffled thump.

"Pathetic," Bellatrix hissed, her wand rising and falling multiple times. But still, the images kept coming...

Now he was looking down at himself in the hospital wing in Hogwarts, the latter muttering quietly.

"Erm-i-o-nee," he groaned, before turning over on his side.

His spirits soared as tenderness bloomed inside his chest, feeling happier then he'd ever felt in his life...