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Life as an Auror was a mixed bag for Ron Weasley. It had seemed like the most logical choice at the end of the war; he was the best friend of Harry Potter, after all. With his best mate also joining, Ron signed up right beside him. A year on the run fighting Death Eaters had prepared him for such a career. Or so he had thought.
His favourite part of the job were his patrols. As a new Auror, he had the easier beats. Small towns, quiet areas of London, even a few forests with only a few houses around. They were still on the lookout for rogue Death Eaters and keeping the peace was important. Ron apparated to the small village of Opalton. It was a clear day, and the sun shone down on the handful of thatched houses out in the English countryside.
This was one of a few purely wizarding villages in England and Ron loved visiting here. It felt as if he had stepped into a postcard. The people were friendly; the sun seemed to always shine (despite it being in England). It was idyllic and quintessentially English.
As Ron stepped away from the Apparition point, he could hear the sounds of children playing in the street. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the local bakery, and he could see a group of elderly witches chatting by the local pond. He took a deep breath and allowed himself to relax. The previous patrol had been a rough one.
The Knockturn Alley patrol was always difficult as there were so many unsavoury witches and wizards there. It had started out peacefully, but Ron knew it wouldn't end that way. Knockturn Alley was known to house purveyors of dark artefacts, dangerous potions and ingredients and stolen goods. Today was no exception.
Rounding a corner, Ron had his hand ready around his wand, just in case. Two wizards were chatting quietly with their backs to Ron. A quick glance and Ron saw something pass from one wizard to the other.
"Stop right there," Ron said, pointing his wand at them and quickly casting the Freezing charm on them to prevent them from Apparating away.
"Hand it over," he ordered.
The first wizard sneered at him. "Oh, a Weasley, why don't you go back to your hovel?" the wizard said.
"Yes, or better yet, go get Potter instead. We will listen to him," the other chimed in.
Ron glowered at them. "I am perfectly capable of dealing with lowlifes like you," he said with pursed lips. Even as an Auror, he seemed to be in his best friend's shadow, this was why he patrolled alone. He loved Harry like a brother, he did, but sometimes, Ron hated being compared to him. He pulled his emotions back into him as best he could, but in that moment, they took advantage of his reaction.
Next thing Ron knew, he was sitting on the ground, his wand next to him with ripped robes and upon closer inspection, all his money was gone.
"Bloody hell," Ron said, quickly collecting his wand. He rubbed his head and looked around. They were long gone.
"There you are, Ron!" came a familiar voice. He saw Harry running through the alley up to him. "Why did you go off on patrol alone again?" Harry looked concerned.
"Was this because Jones called you my sidekick again?"
Ron scoffed. "No, of course not, I just thought I could handle it. That's all," he said, kicking a pebble at his feet. Even if it was why Ron wanted to try to deal with things on his own, he couldn't let Harry know that. "I swear, mate, I don't mind. After all we've been through, it's not that big a deal. You are Harry Potter after all, saviour of the Wizarding World." Ron shrugged.
"That may be, Ron. But you were right there with me. Give yourself more credit... and ask for help once in a while okay? Otherwise Hermione will kill me," Harry said, punching Ron playfully on his arm. "Now get up, don't you have to visit Opalton today?"
With a nod, Ron gave a weak smile and wave before apparating away.
He would take patrols in Opalton any day over the more violent ones. Maybe it was because of the war and his time at Hogwarts, but something was pulling him away from the more active aspects of Auror work. It was worthwhile work, no doubt about it, but Ron couldn't help feeling like he had been fighting ever since he started Hogwarts. 'Not far from the truth there,' he thought as he approached the outskirts of the village.
"Auror Weasley! Auror Weasley!" a little voice cried out, and a small, freckled boy came running towards him.
"Oh, hello, John!" Ron said, as he waited for the boy to catch up. "Are you being good today?" he asked.
With a cheeky smile, John said, "Of course!" John, a young wizard of nine years, idolised Ron, and it always gave Ron such a confidence boost. He followed Ron around the village while he did his rounds and kept him company.
"Old mistress Monksworth has someone visiting this week," John told him. "I heard that it is her nephew."
"Oh, really?" Ron asked as they made their way past the first row of houses. Ron stopped at each one, just to check if there was anyone who needed help. His job was mainly to keep the peace, but in a small village like this, it helped to be neighbourly.
"Yes, I heard he went abroad for years to... Ulgaria?" John said, pulling a confused face.
"I think you mean Bulgaria," Ron corrected the boy and ruffled his hair with a chuckle. "Have you met him?"
John shook his head. "No, they stayed inside the house. She didn't even go to her usual meeting with the old ladies."
'Odd,' Ron thought. Mistress Monksworth would never miss a meeting, she was practically the ringleader of the group.
"Okay, John, I need to go talk to the ladies, why don't you run along and get us both an iced bun from the bakery?" Ron handed him a couple of sickles and watched as the boy's face lit up. John ran off and then Ron could investigate this nephew. Hopefully it was nothing, but something felt off.
"Good afternoon, ladies," Ron said as he sat down next to Madam Redford. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."
"Not at all, Auror Weasley," Mrs Totsbury said and poured him a cup of tea out of a thermos. He accepted with a nod of thanks and took a sip.
"I have heard from young John that Mistress Monksworth has a visitor and that she hasn't attended these gatherings for a few days. Is everything okay?"
"Oh, that boy, such a troublemaker," Madam Redford said with a scowl.
"He used to live here when he was a boy," Mrs Carrey explained. "His parents died... in a mysterious accident, so he came here to live with his aunt. His name was Oliver Monksworth, her brother's son."
"What was he like?" Ron asked.
"Kept to himself mostly," Mrs Totsbury piped in. "Strange boy, very quiet, would scowl at you if you so much as looked at him the wrong way."
"He ran away in the end and good riddance, I say," Madam Redford said, filling up Ron's mug before he had even finished drinking it.
"Something was not right about that boy. Now he is back, and it is awfully quiet over there."
"Oh, I am sure she is fine," Ron said. "Tell you what, I will pop by and check in on her."
"Oh, would you, dear? That would be great," Mrs Totsbury said.
"Oh, and if John comes back, tell him I had to go, and he can have my iced bun," Ron said, placing the teacup down on the table.
"Thanks for the tea, ladies!" Ron shouted over his shoulder before setting off in the direction of Mistress Monkworth's house. It was on the outskirts of the village, a good ten-minute walk away.
Something didn't sit right with him; this Oliver sounded like an unpleasant character and Ron wouldn't let anyone spoil this idyllic village.
Just as he rounded a corner, an owl came flying towards him. Ron took the note and saw that he was being summoned back to headquarters. Swearing under his breath at the timing, he looked from the letter to Mistress Monkworth's house.
The lights were on, so it seemed fine... he could come by after the meeting. An hour wouldn't make a difference. Ron took one more look around the village, breathing in the calm atmosphere and apparated away.
"I have told you, time and time again, Weasley. The Knockturn beat is a two-man job!" Talbott Winger said, banging his hand on the table. "What if they had killed you? Snapped your wand?"
Ron stood silently and nodded. This wasn't the first time he had been reprimanded for going it alone, and yet another reason why he preferred the quieter patrols.
"Just because you are Harry Potter's best friend, doesn't mean you should expect preferential treatment!" he continued.
Ron scowled in response. "I don't expect preferential treatment! Nor do I appreciate being compared to Harry all the time!"
This went on for a while. By the time that Ron was permitted to leave, he was in a foul mood, and he was late for dinner. At the back of his mind, he felt like he was forgetting something, but what? Hermione was probably waiting for him at home, so he hurried back.
It was the middle of the night, and Ron shot up like a bolt.
"Opalton!" he cried. He was supposed to head back to Opalton after the meeting, but his altercation with Winger had thrown him off.
"Ron, go back to sleep..." Hermione said with a moan. "It's too early, just go there in the morning."
Ron laid back down, but sleep escaped him. He couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. He felt bad about not checking on Mistress Monkworth and her nephew. His heart seemed to thump in his chest so loudly he could hear it and his palms were sweaty. 'It couldn't hurt to check,' he thought.
Creeping out of bed, Ron grabbed his wand and some clothes. He dressed by the door and snuck out into the night.
Upon apparating to Opalton, he could confirm that something was very wrong, very wrong indeed.
The sky, despite it being the dead of night, was a bright crimson and it was unnaturally still. With a quick flick of his wand, Ron sent a patronus to Harry telling him to meet him as soon as possible. He advanced towards the village. He took in all of his surroundings, listening for the slightest sound around him. Then he saw the bodies.
This was something out of a nightmare. It was then that Ron realised that his moments in Opalton would now only reside within him as a memory. He had to find out what had happened here.
Approaching the first houses, he knocked on the first door to find it ajar. This was John's house; Ron had visited his family before. The sight that met him would be etched in his mind forever. Rivers of crimson flowed down the stairs and Ron already knew what sight would greet him.
"Please, John, please be safe..." he whispered as he searched the house. He found the bodies of John's parents but no John. His bed was empty, and a search of the house came up wanting.
"Ron!" came a low voice behind him. With a sigh of relief, Ron turned around to see Harry there. His face looked pale and grim.
Ron quickly explained what he had discovered earlier about Mistress Monkworth's nephew and what he had found so far.
"Okay, first we call for reinforcements, healers. I will go house to house and try to find survivors. You try to find the nephew and John. Be safe Ron, and send me a patronus if you find anything," Harry said.
Ron nodded and gulped. Never had he imagined that his little haven would end up like this. Why did it have to happen?
He circled around the village, deciding to avoid the centre of the village for now. He had to investigate Mistress Monkworth's house. If it was the nephew, then there would be clues there.
Ron entered through the backdoor and discovered that the house was in a state of disarray. There were burn marks from spells and patches of crimson blood everywhere. They had been fighting. He crept through the house as the signs of destruction became more and more apparent. A faint smell started to fill the air and Ron knew from training what that smell was, nothing good that was for certain. Upstairs, he discovered what seemed to be Oliver's room. It was filled with notebooks, death eater paraphernalia and dead animals. The boy was sick.
Ron gathered up all his courage and continued to Mistress Monkworth's room. And sure enough, that was where the smell was coming from. She had been dead for days. Ron wanted to hit himself. Why did he wait to check on her? He wouldn't have been able to save her, but the other villagers... "I'm sorry. I failed you..." Ron said as he quickly closed the door again, and after a moment to collect himself, he continued on. He had to find Oliver and John.
He hoped with all his being that John was safe. Harry met with Ron outside of Mistress Monkworth's house.
"What did you find?" Harry asked.
"It's the nephew alright, Oliver Monkworth. Idolised you-know-who."
Harry's face grew stern.
"There are no survivors... I'm sorry, Ron." Harry placed his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I didn't find the boy though," he said. "Let's keep looking."
Wands out, side by side. It was like old times, and Ron wondered whether he would ever find a village like this again. Or whether the idyllic moments would remain in his memory, never to be replaced.
If anything, despite the atrocities of the war, this felt much worse. More personal, even considering that he lost one of his brothers during the war. Why did he want to put himself through this, time and time again?
They approached the village hall where the rivers of crimson seemed to converge. This was where Oliver was. Ron was certain.
They crept up, keeping to the shadows. The doors stood open and inside stood Oliver preparing something on a table. Like a sacrifice. It was John.
'No!' Ron thought. He wanted to rush in, but one look at Harry, and he knew that this would be a bad idea. One wrong move and the boy died.
Harry gestured to the door behind Oliver, and with a series of hand signals, Ron understood the plan.
Ron took some deep breaths and stood up. He had to get Oliver talking to him. He took a step inside and cleared his throat.
"Oliver, isn't it?"
"I thought I got everybody... the spell won't work without the blood of everyone in the village!" Oliver said with a hint of panic on his face.
John lay motionless on the table, Ron looked over and could see that he was alive but stunned.
"Sorry, I was out drinking," Ron said with a shrug. "Tell you what, why don't you let the boy go and then we can talk about this spell of yours. It sounds interesting." Ron edged forward.
"Stop! Don't come closer, I know what you are doing. You are trying to stop me. It won't work," Oliver said, his voice shook.
"No, see," Ron said, placing his wand at his feet. "I'm unarmed. Now, let the poor boy go, hardly any blood in him anyway. Wouldn't you rather use a grown man like me?"
He could see Oliver thinking, this man was ill and probably had been for some time. With a flick of his wand, John was freed, and Ron felt himself be bound.
"Go, John... it's okay," Ron urged as John hesitated. "I'll be fine."
Once John was out of the hall, Oliver started to talk.
"You will do nicely, the Dark Lord will be pleased with me, yes, he will. He will rise again from the blood of the innocent," Oliver said with glee.
The door behind Oliver crashed open and with a flash of light, Oliver fell to the ground stunned.
"I don't think so," Ron said as Harry untied him. "Good timing there, mate."
"Good job on keeping him occupied," Harry said as they levitated the stunned wizard out of the hall to two Azkaban guards. He had earned himself a one-way ticket after his acts tonight.
"John!" Ron said, running over to where he sat with a healer. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"Auror... Weasley..." John cried. "My mum... dad... brother...Why?" Ron encircled him in his arms and patted the boy on the head.
"I wish I knew John, I really do." Ron sighed and held the young boy as he cried. He too wished that he had answers for him, but Ron knew that he never wanted to do this again. He had fought enough, and it had been for nothing. Opalton was dead, lost to his memories. Maybe it was time for a career change, one where he could bring joy to people's lives instead, but one thing Ron did know, John was coming with him.