If you can guess, this is a Harry Potter fanfic. It takes place during the first book, after Harry and Hermione split up at the potion riddle and while Harry is facing off Professor Quirrel. I've always been curious to how Hermione and Ron's part of the adventure ended and disappointed that it was never mentioned, so I decided to write it, just for the fun of it. Let me know what you think!
Hermione raced across the black and white checkered floor littered with shattered marble. Dropping beside the prone figure, she hurriedly felt for a pulse, holding her breath.
Yes. There was a steady beating. Knocked out was always better than dead, she thought to herself. She studied her friend carefully. He didn’t look too great- he was almost as pale as Nearly-Headless Nick, stark against his freckles and shock of bright red hair. But at least Ron didn’t seem to have broken anything. Sighing with relief, Hermione stuck her wand back into her robes. She needed to get Ron to the hospital wing before he got any worse.
Then came the problem of moving him. Princes in Muggle fairy tales had no problem carrying swooning girls, but Hermione discovered fast that unconscious bodies were much too awkward and limp for such things- especially when they were taller than she was. So much for fairy tales, Hermione thought huffily as she wrapped her arms around Ron’s chest and headed for the door, Ron’s feet dragging on the ground.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder once, momentarily torn by indecision of leaving Harry to face whatever horrors he may come across in that final room. What if he needed her brains, her skills?
Ron needs me, too, she reminded herself firmly, and there‘s nothing you can do for Harry now. Although she did intend on tracking down the headmaster or anyone else useful the moment she got the chance.
Time seemed to stand still as Hermione and her limp burden passed the towering, lifeless and broken chess figures that loomed forebodingly overhead. Nothing stirred, but Hermione was still glad when they were through the doors.
Until she remembered the troll. Twelve whole feet of stinky, slimy, stupid troll sprawled out at the door. The troll was twitching and snorting now- showing signs of waking up. Hermione shuddered at the thought of facing another troll anytime soon.
She was much better prepared now, she assured herself. She stopped to reposition Ron so that she gripped his arms over her shoulders and his red head lolled at her left arm, then hurried for the opposite door as quickly as she could.
Hermione felt as much as heard the troll lumber to its feet, and it didn’t sound happy. She paused just long enough to pull out her wand and blast a fountain of red sparks at the far wall, hoping to distract the beast. Fear coursing through her veins gave her the strength to sprint the last halfway to the door under her heavy load. As the troll’s angry roars filled her ears, Hermione grasped the door handle, yanked it open, dragged herself and Ron through, and slammed it shut as hard as she could.
Blissful, still, silence greeted her, for in this room there was nothing more than bird-keys flapping peacefully overhead. There were hundreds of them, of every shape and size. Hermione, though, was interested only in catching her breath. She still had a long way to go.
Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. How could she not have thought of it? They had learned the flying charm months ago! It might not be ideal, she thought, but it would certainly be easier than carrying Ron.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” she said with a flick of her wand. Ron rose into the air until he hung four feet above the ground, and Hermione concentrated on keeping him in a hover just in front of her as she crossed the room. Much easier than carrying.
Hermione stopped at the far door, gently letting Ron down. She couldn’t forget the Devil’s Snare that had very nearly suffocated Harry and Ron. And even without the Devil’s Snare, how were they supposed to get to the trap door? She could fly Ron up there, but then he’d be at the mercy of the three-headed dog!
Desperately, Hermione raised her wand, glad she’d studied ahead in their charm book, and called out, “Accio rope!”
It was as much a surprise to her as it would have been to anybody else when just that came tumbling through the hole. Hermione stared- the rope was heavy, probably four inches thick. Glancing up, she couldn’t see it’s end. Crossing her fingers, Hermione grabbed the rope and tugged. When nothing happened, she gripped it with both hands and hung. She breathed a sigh of relief when the rope didn’t give way. Now, all she needed was…
She still had Hagrid’s flute! Glad she hadn’t given it back to Harry yet, Hermione pulled it out of her robes, turning it in her fingers as she thought. The next step would be tricky, as the Devil’s Snare plant was only a few feet from which she stood- she didn’t want to tangle with that plant again.
Reluctantly, she decided the only way this would work would be to send Ron ahead of her. Clenching the flute in her teeth, she cast the flying charm on Ron once more and carefully maneuvered him through the door at the top, letting him drop gently on the ground. Immediately a low growl started, and Hermione started playing.
All she could manage without her hands was one tuneless note, but that seemed to be enough for the dog. Cramming her wand back into her robes, Hermione grabbed the rope and began hauling herself up, one slow pull at a time, all the while blowing through the little wooden flute. Finally, she pulled herself up over the edge. The rest was easy, she told herself.
Then she saw where the rope had come from- it was attached to one of the dog’s collars! Hermione gasped, accidentally taking her teeth out of the flute. Desperately she scrambled to catch it, but she was a second to slow- and the flute tumbled through the trap door.
Instantly, all three heads came awake- three sets of teeth bared and three low growls coming from its throats as six red eyes narrowed on her alone. Grapping Ron’s arm, Hermione yanked her wand out with a shaking hand, sending off green and red sparks as well as any spell she could think of to distract the monster. But the dog was not easily distracted from it’s prey, and the spells were buying her very little time- not as much time as she needed to make it to the door.
Teeth snapped inches from her wand tip and Hermione screamed, dragging Ron by one arm and firing red sparks in the head’s eyes with the other. Almost at the door… nearly there…
The door flew open with a bang, and light flooded in the room. Hermione glanced up to see a tall figure in billowing robes silhouette in the light… the man called out something in a booming voice, and instantly the three-headed dog dropped into a drooling sleep.
“Professor Dumbledore!” Hermione exclaimed, relieved.
“Yes, I do go by that name. Are you two all right?” he asked, looking concerned.
“We are now, thank you. Professor, Harry-”
“Yes, I’m aware- I must hurry,” Dumbledore called over his shoulder as he crossed the room. Hermione felt as though a ten ton load had been lifted from her. If Dumbledore was here, everything would be fine, she told herself, sighing in relief. Now all she had to do was haul Ron up to the hospital wing.
“You could wake up anytime now, Ron,” she muttered, resigned to the long haul. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. This heroics thing was much harder than it ever was in Muggle fairy tales.
Gender:
Points: 8954
Reviews: 89