Disclaimer: Though this unique plot bunny came from my brain, nothing belongs to me! Writing for pure enjoyment =)
Arthur felt an unsettling rush of energy around his body, like he was spiraling rapidly through the air, though he was too afraid to open his eyes and find out. He finally landed, rather unexpectedly, nearly toppling to the ground on impact. After catching his breath, and adjusting his glasses, he took a moment to gaze around him.
He beheld a vastly open space, reaching unfathomably high into the heavens, seemingly stretching on into eternity. Shivers rippled down his spine, his mind consumed with a feeling of being trapped in an infinitesimal space, though the room stretched on forever. All around him, crimson steams flowed through the air, weaving a seamless web, floating slowly down from the sky. The streams came to a halt at the center of The Hall, wrapping fluidly around a great pulsing mass, almost like rivers of blood flowing to a beating heart.
Arthur took a harrowing breath, his mind momentarily wiped blank in awe of the sight before him. The undulating streams of red mesmerized him, filling his heart with both dread and a strange longing. After quite some time, he tore his eyes away, struggling to remember why he was here. He needed to help someone... I'm here to help my son. My little boy.
The moment the thought swept into his mind, the room began to change. Fluid scarlet waves swept outward from the heart, weaving in an almost terrifying manner towards the spot where Arthur stood. He gasped as the torrent consumed him, drowning him in a swirling mass of red light. For a few horrifying moments, Arthur doubted his resolve. How can anything be accomplished from this? he thought desperately. Abruptly the swirling motion slowed, bringing forth a hazy image. Arthur gasped and stepped forward.
Sitting before him was a younger version of himself, clutching a small infant in his arms. Ron, Arthur thought, a happy smile spreading across his face. They were sitting quietly, Arthur rocking the sleeping baby tenderly, grinning in a way only a father could understand. Ron awoke and stretched out his tiny hand, grasping at Arthur's glasses and cooing merrily.
Arthur watched this imprint for quite a long time. He would have been content to stay in this memory, to remember such innocent and happy times. But this wasn't what he was here for. Ron's not a little boy anymore. He's grown up, experienced love of his own, he thought with a sigh.
The scarlet clouds were pulled away instantly, leaving Arthur gasping for breath as a new wave swept towards him. This time he shut his eyes tightly, waiting patiently for the rushing sound to cease. It took much longer for the wave to settle this time, as if numerous moments and memories were queuing up for the chance to be seen. As the rushing stilled, Arthur's ears were filled with a barrage of sounds.
Slowly opening his eyes, he found a rolling wave of crimson imprints, spitting flashes of moments and memories forth at mind-blowing speed. A moment of Ron walking through the grounds of Hogwarts gazing happily at the school flowed quickly into Ron playing Quidditch, making a spectacular save as he played Keeper. That image faded instantly to show Ron and Ginny, playfully teasing each other and laughing merrily.
Wrestling with the twins.
Giving Pig a letter for Harry.
Standing beside Bill on his wedding day.
The pictures kept flashing before Arthur's eyes, so quickly his head began to ache. It didn't take long for desperation to kick in as he weakly tried to focus on the cavalcade of memories.
Hugging his mother.
Playing a game of Wizards Chess with Charlie.
Having a blazing row with Hermione.
Hermione, Arthur thought, gazing intently at her face as she raged at his son. Ron loves her, he thought with a sad smile, remembering the days he'd secretly hoped that they might admit their love, and eventually marry.
The crimson streams nearly erupted in response to these thoughts, billowing like mad and practically shooting forth new imprints. There before him, Arthur saw image after image of his youngest son and his true love.
Looking.
Touching.
Holding hands and loving embraces.
Passionate kisses.
Muttered oaths.
Declarations of love.
The clashing of skin on skin.
Arthur felt his ears and neck burn red as the memories took a more personal turn. He shut his eyes quickly, certain that neither Ron nor Hermione would want him to see such private moments of expressing their love. No, he thought desperately, begging his mind to clear of his frenzied thoughts. With a great rocking force, the swirling mass was sucked away, sending Arthur painfully to his knees.
Sweat poured from his brow as he agonizingly gasped for breath. Deogol hadn't been joking when he'd said this would be a physically demanding experience. Arthur's entire body ached, and his heart was threatening to beat straight through his chest in his mounting exhaustion. He needed to focus. Somehow he'd never expected it to be this difficult, simply remembering why he had come into The Hall in the first place.
His stomach flipped uncomfortably as a new wave emerged from the pulsing heart of the room, spiraling swiftly in his direction. He pulled himself to his feet as it collided with him, swallowing him in the rush. As he waited for the churning to cease, Arthur was startled to find that this wave was much smaller than the last, its energy strong yet not overpowering. A new image materialized before his eyes, this one far clearer than any other he'd seen. He gasped and clutched at his chest, the realization of this imprint setting in.
Arthur was standing beside Molly, his arm wrapped around her shoulders protectively as she sobbed into a handkerchief. Before them stood three identical beds, their occupants hidden behind thick, white curtains. But something was amiss. Something was happening in the center bed, something that was sending both Arthur and Molly into hysterics as a half dozen witches and wizards rushed into the room. A gap in the curtain revealed the tormented soul to be none other than Harry, flailing wildly, shouting indistinctly into the ward. Through it all, Harry's eyes remained shut tight, as though he were suffering from a nightmare he could not escape.
Then Arthur remembered. That's precisely what the Healers at St. Mungo's had come to believe. After the Great Battle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been found lying together, as though asleep in a comatose state. Everyone had been confident they would awaken soon, but after a year they still lay in troubled slumber. The only signs of life they ever showed were the occasional scream, or the release of anguished tears.
Arthur's heart clenched as he watched the Healers pin Harry's flailing body to the bed, speaking reassuring words in his ears to no avail. This heartbreaking image flashed to a close, bringing forth one that had happened just weeks before.
"What do you mean they're trapped in their minds?" Molly said incredulously, her eyes wide with concern. "Are you saying they will never wake up?"
"We don't know anything for sure," the Healer replied, a strained look on his face. "We're doing everything we can."
"But why do they keep screaming? Do you know what's causing it?" Arthur questioned, his voice filled with concern.
"Well, we have a theory that they may have been exposed to a Memory Snaring Potion. The victim is forced to relive a moment, lost in a perpetual nightmare."
Molly gasped and placed her hand over her mouth in shock, her other hand clutching Arthur's arm.
"Is there an antidote?" Arthur asked in an amazingly calm voice.
"No," the Healer replied sadly. "The potion just runs its course until the victim snaps out of it I'm afraid. The problem is we've never had victims of a Memory Snaring Potion with such vividly disturbing memories before. Usually they are able to break away from their nightmares, even for a moment, and in remembering how beautiful life can be they awaken. Your son and his friends seem trapped in one very intense memory. They may never wake up…”
Arthur slid to his knees, his heart aching madly. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were trapped in their memories of the war. A war that by rights they should never have had to fight, but did so without complaint. A war that never would have been won had they not taken action, and now a lifetime of tormented dreams was their reward.
But the Healers had a new theory. If they could inject a memory into their minds, perhaps they could tear them away from their nightmares. But no one could imagine a moment powerful enough to pull them out of such torment. Nothing seemed strong enough, or beautiful enough, to accomplish such a feat. That was when Arthur had decided to come here, to The Hall of Love in the Department of Mysteries. Where else could he find a memory they could all share, filled with enough love to pull them back from the edge of hell?
But now that he was here, Arthur didn't know what to do. The imprint he'd just seen of his days at St. Mungo's hardly seemed worthy of existing in the realm of love, drenched in darkness and despair, and yet he knew each scene was filled with extreme thoughts of love. Love from he and Molly. Even love from the dedicated Healers. With so many imprints to choose from, how was he ever going to find the right one?
I wish I knew that they were going through, Arthur thought sadly, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked up suddenly as a rumbling began in the distance. A new red, swirling wave was fast approaching, and Arthur dreaded to see what horrors it might tell.
One Last Golden Day by Gryffinpuff
Chapter Notes: This chapter has brief references to sexual situations. Nothing too graphic, but just fair warning!