If Paths Diverge

Chapter 26

The Ministry was plunged into pandemonium.

When Ron crumbled onto the floor, Harry fell to his knees beside him, recognizing the empty stare and lifeless body for what it was. Hermione was hitting Ron with spell after spell, crying hysterically and, when no magic worked, she began to administer chest compressions and rescue breaths.

Harry felt helpless, watching as one of the multitude of other Aurors came over and ordered Ron to be taken immediately to St Mungo's. Hermione went with him.

Harry stayed.

He watched as the Aurors descended on Voldemort, wrapping him in restraints and binding his ankles and wrists. One of his colleagues, Stephen, broke down after the Minister's body had been respectfully carried away and began to kick Voldemort's unconscious form repeatedly in the side. The body he'd held days ago, that he'd cherished and kissed, was lifted with the force of the violence done to it, becoming bloodied and broken, the man's magic no longer protecting it.

Another Auror dragged Stephen back, hugging him and speaking words of commiseration.

Harry watched, numb.

Ron.

He felt his body begin to tremble. I am so sorry.

~*~

Harry lay on the floor in his kitchen, clammy face pressed against the cool tiles and tried to convince himself to get up. Take a shower. Dress.

Today was Ron's funeral and, although he knew he wasn't welcome there, he had to go. He would stay in the shadows and try not to draw attention to himself.

His head was pounding. Perhaps from the alcohol or maybe from not eating or drinking since his best friend had been murdered. Ron had died hating Harry, and yet the man had still sacrificed his own life to protect him. Ron had wanted to flee when Voldemort—

Harry flinched, felt his face muscles twitch. That name hurt. He had refused to think of the man since seeing Ron's lifeless body collapse three short days ago. He'd removed the ring and the Horcrux, throwing them onto his mantel in a drunken rage.

He had no idea what had become of the man after he'd watched the Aurors take him away in chains. Bloody and alone. Another person who had suffered for trying to protect Harry.

But he couldn't forgive this. Ron was dead and although he knew that Voldemort had been incensed after being collared again, the man had to have known what killing Harry's best friend would do.

It was unforgivable.

Harry took in a deep breath and forced his body to move. He dragged his face along the floor until he was on his knees, then he slowly straightened his spine, vertebrae by vertebrae, until he was mostly vertical. At last he stood, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

He still felt drunk so he stumbled to his bathroom for a Pepper-up Potion and a Sobriety Draught. He necked them both back and closed his eyes while they kicked in.

An hour later, he Apparated to a hill a short distance from the small family graveyard in Ottery St Catchpole where a large group of mourners were gathered. Luckily, no one had heard the crack of his Apparition and so he could slowly make his way closer, unobserved for now.

The mound of earth removed to make way for the coffin was a stark reminder of what was about to happen and Harry felt his hand go up to touch his left ear. The empty lobe offered no comfort and instead made Harry feel more alone than ever.