The next morning Harry called at The Burrow early. “Are you ready?” he asked once he had greeted Ron.
“Yep, McGonagall said we could go in at anytime as she has a free morning. I’ll just go and say goodbye to Rose.”
He went back in to the living room and picked up his daughter, giving her a big kiss. “I’ll see you later, Rose. Be good for grandma.” Then, after giving his mother a hug, he and Harry left.
He Apparated to Hogwarts without Harry’s assistance, assuring him that he was fine. He arrived just outside the gates and stared up at the castle. He felt a pang in his heart. He hadn’t realised quite how important this place had been to him. It reminded him so much of Hermione. He had never been here without her.
They walked up to the castle in silence, Harry seeming to sense that Ron wanted to be left to his own thoughts. When they reached the Entrance Hall, they continued up the staircase to the Headmistress’ office. She had given Ron the password the night before and so they entered without any problems. At the top of the spiral staircase, Harry knocked and a familiar voice called out,
“Come in.”
The two men entered and McGonagall stood to greet them. Her face was solemn. “Oh, Ron,” she said, “I heard about Hermione and well, I am so sorry. I know teachers should never have favourites but she was always so gifted.”
“Thank you,” Ron replied stiffly, still hating to hear Hermione talked of in the past tense.
“We’re actually here on Ministry business, Professor,” he said, quickly changing the subject.
“Oh, right. What can I help you with? Would you like a seat?”
They all sat down and Harry cleared his throat.
“We wanted to know what you can tell us about Terry Boot and what happened to him and his family during the war.”
The Professor’s face clouded over. “Did you never hear about his parents?” she asked.
“No, are they dead?”
“No, they are still alive but they live in a condition very similar to that of Neville’s parents.”
Ron and Harry gasped. “How awful for them and for him,” said Harry. “How did it happen?”
McGonagall hesitated. “I am really surprised that you do not already know this story. I am not altogether sure that I am the right person to be telling you.”
“Please, Professor, it is very important. We think he may have had something to do with Hermione’s death.”
“Very well then. On the day the three of you broke in to the Ministry of Magic, Terry Boot was there for his hearing with the Muggle-born Registration Committee, accompanied by his Muggle parents. At the time when you aided the escape of a group of Muggle-borns, Terry and his parents were in another waiting room. After the Ministry had been sealed and the Death Eaters realised that a group of Muggle-borns had escaped, they decided to make an example of those who had not been so lucky, to show what the new regime was really capable of.”
“You mean Terry?” asked Ron quietly.
“Yes. Instead of holding his hearing and sending him to Azkaban, they made him sit to chained to the chair in the courtroom while his parents were tortured in front of him. They used the cruciatus curse over and over again, while Terry sat powerless to help them. They stopped just as his parents were on the brink of death, deciding it would be altogether worse for Terry to know that his parents were alive but insane, and then they sent him to Azkaban.”
Ron and Harry sat in complete shock. They had known that the Death Eaters were capable of terrible things but this was worse than anything they had ever heard.
“Terry spent his time in his Azkaban not knowing what had happened to them. It was only when he was finally released that he discovered that somehow they had been taken to St Mungo’s. They have been cared for by the Healers there ever since. As far as I know, there is no chance of recovery.”
“What about Terry? Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. After the war I visited him and asked if he would like to return to Hogwarts. He told me that he did not think he could as he could no longer perform magic.”
“Did you believe him? Do you think he has lost his magic?”
“I can only believe what I am told and certainly the trauma he endured could have led to the loss of his magic. Or else, he simply did not want to be associated with our world any more.”
“Thank you, Professor,” said Ron. “That confirms some of what I have already been told.”
“I’m glad I could help, though I really do hope that he was not involved in Hermione’s murder.”
“Unfortunately,” replied Ron, “it is beginning to look more and more like he is.”
McGonagall looked grave at this news. “I do hope you will remember what I have told you when you do find him.”
“He killed my wife, Professor. I don’t know that I can promise him sympathy.”
With that, Harry and Ron departed.
“So, now we know for sure that it is Terry and why he has been doing this,” said Harry. “We just need to find him.”
Ron noticed that a dark look had come in to Harry’s eyes, one he had seen so many times before.
“Harry,” he said seriously, “I can see what you’re thinking and I want you to stop.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” replied Harry.
“Yes you do; you’re blaming yourself and I won’t let you. You could never have known what was going to happen that day. You did what you thought was the right thing at the time. You were trying to save people.”
“Yes and it seems that whenever I try to save someone, someone else ends up dead! How can you even bare to even look at me? It’s my fault, Ron. It’s my fault Hermione died. If I wasn’t so bloody stupid, Terry Boot’s parents would never have had to suffer that way. And he wouldn’t have lost his magic and gone mad. And then Her…Hermione would still be alive!” His voice broke at the end and Ron put his arm around his shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault, mate. You did what you did years ago and none of us could ever have predicted that this would happen. You said yourself that Hermione was a clever witch, but even she couldn’t have foreseen how much danger she was in.”
Harry shrugged. “I just don’t know.”
Ron didn’t reply, unsure how to, especially as part of him still blamed himself for not being there.
“We need to find out where he is,” said Harry, suddenly turning back to the job.
“We may have to talk to Ackerley again. I think he would tell us.”
“Unless it’s under fidelius.”
“There’s no point in thinking about that yet. Listen, I think I’m going to go home for a bit. We can see Ackerley this afternoon. I just need a bit of a rest.”
“Do you want me to come?” Harry asked concernedly.
“No, I think I just need to be alone for a while. I’ve barely had time to stop and think in the last two days.”
“OK, then I’ll see you at the Ministry at about two?”
Ron nodded and, as the pair reached the area beyond the gates, he turned on the spot and Apparated.
When Ron’s new surroundings materialised, he found himself outside his and Hermione’s house. Or rather his house now.
She had loved this place. It was surrounded by green fields and countryside. There was a small village just down the road where they could go if they ever wanted a walk, but otherwise they were completely alone. But as Hermione had said, “Why do we need to be surrounded by people? We can Apparate wherever we want.”
Ron opened the front gate and wandered in to the house. He went in to the front room, where they had their large fireplace. He smiled sadly at the family photograph hanging over the fireplace. It had been taken just after Rose’s birth. Hermione sat in one of the comfy armchairs, Rose in her arms. She was smiling at the camera but every so often she would look down at the baby to adjust the blankets, or turn to Ron and smile. Ron himself stood behind, his hand on her shoulder. His grin showed everything about how he was feeling. He kept sneaking a glance at his baby, as if not really believing that she was real.
Ron couldn’t believe how much had changed since that photo. He looked away, unable to stop the tears forming in his eyes. He went in to the kitchen, which they had modelled on the kitchen of The Burrow. Hanging above the stove, they even had their very own family clock, a present from his parents. Now though, he couldn’t bring himself to look at it, not wanting to see the place to which he knew Hermione’s arrow would be pointing.
Leaving the kitchen, he climbed the stairs and went down the hall to Rose’s nursery. It was painted pink and white, with a beautiful wooden cot, given to them by Hermione’s parents. They hadn’t known until the birth that Rose was to be a girl and so Ron had spent almost all night and the day after the birth, painting and finding furniture for the room. He picked up the two cuddly bunny rabbits he had bought in Diagon Alley, one big and one small. He had given them Hermione in hospital, telling her they were a mummy and baby rabbit. She had been so happy when she had come home and seen what he had done to the nursery. They had spent all night in there, just talking and watching Rose sleep.
They had agreed that they both wanted more children. They had waited a while after their marriage; Hermione didn’t want to affect her career prospects, but after the birth of Rose, Hermione admitted she had never been happier and would love to have a whole brood.
He closed the door and the nursery and crossed to the bedroom. However, when he reached the door he found himself unable to go in. This had been their room, how could he ever face sleeping in the large bed without her. He turned away and his eyes fell on the closed door of the study. He thought of the last time he had been in there and what he had learnt since about how she had died. Suddenly, he felt sick.
He ran to the bathroom and wretched in to the toilet. He looked at his face in the mirror. He was so pale. How could he possibly ever live a normal life again? In the last two days, he had become so caught up in trying to catch the murderer that he had never taken a moment to think and now that he had, the thoughts were torturing him.
He stripped off his clothes and climbed in to the shower, turning it up to a scalding temperature. He stood under the pouring water, allowing his tears to mix in with the flow. Steam hit the glass door of the shower, misting up the window. He thought of the times when he was younger and would stand in the shower at home, writing his name in the steam on the window. How Ron wished he was back there now, with his whole life ahead of him. He would make everything so different.
He missed her so much. People had often told him that they thought them to be a strange pair, always bickering. He, himself, remembered the time when he thought she would be better off with Harry than with him. But somehow, they had worked. They had needed each other. But now she had left him to work alone.
Ron climbed out of the shower and redressed. It had made him feel calmer somehow, like he had washed away all his problems. He looked at his watch; it was almost time to meet Harry. Ron felt a renewed determination. He had promised that he would find Hermione’s killer and he wasn’t going to let her down now he was so close.
It was time to find Terry Boot.
Ron left the house and Apparated to the Ministry. Harry was waiting in the Atrium and together they went straight down to the ministry cells where Ackerley was stil being held. As they walked, Ron said to Harry,
“Ackerley asked if he would be allowed to attend Branstone’s funeral. I said I’d have to check with you.”
“It’s not really up to me. The Wizengamot have ordered for him to be held in protective custody “ it would be up to them.”
“I think we should try, though. It’s only because of him that we have been able to discover Terry’s involvement.”
“You mustn’t forget that he is a criminal though, Ron. He as good as confessed yesterday. He will almost certainly be sent back to Azkaban. They won’t look kindly on someone who has admitted casting the killing curse, no matter how sad his story.”
“I know. I just wish that none of this had to happen. After the things he told me yesterday, it is so clear that he never really wanted to hurt people. He hated having to do it. Azkaban is the place that caused him to be like this and now it seems he’s going to end up straight back there. The least we could do is to allow him the chance to say goodbye.”
“Well, as I say, it’s up to the Wizenmagot, but I will put the case to them, as soon as this is finished.”
They had reached the cells and Harry told the guard who it was they wished to see and they were led to the interview room. After a few minutes, Ackerley was brought in and chained to the chair.
“Hello, Stewart,” said Ron. Ackerley said nothing.
“We need to talk to you about Terry Boot.”
“What about Eleanor? Can I go to the funeral?”
“We’re going to put your case to the Wizenmagot. But first, we need to know where Terry is.”
“I don’t know. Whenever he needed us, he came to see us. He never said where he was living and we never asked. He was always so secretive.”
“Did he ever talk about his parents?”
“No, we knew nothing about him.”
Ron sighed. “Thank you, Stewart. I will make sure we let you know about the funeral.”
With that, he and Harry stood and left the room.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” said Harry.
“It was the only lead we had.”
“So, what are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know.” Ron fell silent, thinking back to everything they had learnt in the last few days, including everything McGonagall had told them about Terry.
“Harry,” he said suddenly, “what about his parents’?”
“What about them?”
“What if he’s there? It was their torture which led him to this; he would probably have been driven to the place that reminded him most of them.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s the best hope we’ve got. This, morning, when I was thinking of Hermione, the only thing I wanted to do was go home. Because home is one of the last places I have to remember her. What if it’s the same for Terry?”
“Right; we’d better find out where they lived then. I’ll Floo McGonagall “ she should know.”
They arrived in the Atrium and Harry went in to a side-room to use one of the communication fireplaces. When he emerged, he was clutching a piece of parchment.
“The Boots’ address,” he said. “Though McGonagall warned me that it was a long shot. The house was almost gutted by a fire, believed to have been started by Death Eaters. She thought it was unlikely that anyone could be living there.”
“Which makes it all the more probable that he is. After all, no one is going to think that someone is going to be living in a burnt out house. Can I see the address?”
Harry handed him the parchment and Ron looked at the address for a few minutes until he was confident that he had memorised it.
“Right, let’s go,” he said.
Harry nodded and the pair turned on the spot and Apparated.
They arrived outside what had obviously once been a house. However, it was missing most of the roof, and what was left of the front door was hanging from a single hinge. Ron felt a sinking feeling. It was worse than he could have hoped. It was unlikely that anyone was living here.
Though it seemed hopeless, the two men walked up to the front door and into the hall. The walls were black from smoke and there seemed to be little of anything left. At the far end of the hall there was a door which seemed to have almost completely survived. Ron started to walk towards it, but he still felt that it was unlikely they would find anything.
He pushed the door open and stared in to the gloomy room. In the very middle of it there stood a table on which there rested a black notebook and quill. Behind the table there was a chair, and on the chair sat Terry Boot. Almost unrecognisable, his hair was long and matted and his eyes seemed almost dead. As soon as he saw him, Ron quickly withdrew his wand, but Terry didn’t say anything. He simply looked at Ron, his hands resting on the table.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything. I’ve been waiting for you, actually. You took longer than I thought.”
“How did you know we would find you?” asked Ron, vaguely aware of Harry entering the room behind him. Ron’s attention was almost completely focused on the man in front of him. This was it; this was the person who had killed his Hermione.
“Well when Eleanor killed herself, I had a feeling you’d be able to crack Stewart. He really did love her, no matter what he said. I imagine that he blamed me for her death. He had always been a bit more reluctant than others and I suppose he saw this as his chance to get out. Also, Eleanor, Owen and Stewart are not the only ones. I thought that at some point, someone would betray me”
“So if you knew we were coming, why are you still here?”
Terry shrugged. “I thought about running. Part of me wanted to go the same way as Eleanor. The idea of being constantly in hiding did not appeal to me. But then I went to visit my parents. And I realised how selfish of me it would be to run away or to kill myself. Because even though I will now spend many years in Azkaban, I can at least be there for them if I am ever released.”
“Why did you do it, Terry?”
Terry picked up the black book. “It is all in here. I thought it would be easier to write down than to discuss. I have no doubt that in here you shall find all the evidence you need. It was I who was responsible for cutting the pure-bloods until they were as good as dead and I was the one who ordered whoever I wished to cast the final curse.”
“What about Hermione? How did you discover her involvement?” Ron asked.
“One thing I have learnt about wizards is that they are incredibly arrogant. They do not believe it could be possible for a Muggle to be better them in any way. Since I lost my magic, it is something I have played to my advantage.
On the day I broke in to Gringotts, I pretended to be a Muggle parent wanting to set up an account for my wizarding child. At the bank, I asked to be shown a vault and once I was in the cart with the goblin, I simply used Muggle means to render him unconscious. From there it was an easy matter to navigate to the particular vault I required, which is not, I think you should know, particularly well-guarded. I used the unconscious goblin’s finger to gain access to the vault and once inside I was able to find what I wanted.”
“But why go to such lengths? I get the impression you don’t care about either of the people we have imprisoned. Why did you kill Hermione?” This was Harry, taking over from Ron.
“It had very little to do with the case. Breaking in to Gringotts was simply about proving my ability to do so. Finding out that Hermione was part of the case was a bonus as it finally gave me an excuse to do what I wanted to do for so long “ to get my own back on you, Harry Potter.
It is because of you that I watched my parents driven to insanity and so I wanted your friends to suffer the same fate.”
“Harry was doing what he thought was right!” interrupted Ron. “We all were. What happened to your parents was horrific, but you cannot blame Harry. He tried so hard to save everyone but no one could do that.”
“He made everything worse. The three of you stormed in and out without a thought to the people you left behind. I’ve had to pay the price for that “ why shouldn’t you?”
“I have,” replied Harry. “Do you really think I don’t think about the people that suffered or died because of me? You don’t need to worry about punishing me because not a day goes by when I don’t think about what happened.”
Terry started to reply but Ron couldn’t take it anymore.
“Enough! We are not here to argue about this. We are here, as Aurors of the Ministry of Magic, to ask you to accompany us to the Ministry of Magic. If you do you not come of your own free will, we have the right to use means to subdue you, including but not limited to, the use of the stunning spell and any other confinement spells. Anything you say at this point can be recorded by the arresting Aurors and presented to the Wizengamot as evidence. You are entitled at any point to ask for legal representation. Do you understand?”
Terry nodded, “Yes, I will come with you. As I said, I have been expecting this. I have made the necessary arrangements for both my parents and myself. Will we be Apparating?”
“Yes, though you shall be travelling with me,” said Harry. He took out of his pocket a pair of magical handcuffs. Terry stood up and held out his wrist. Harry tapped the handcuff with his wand and a blue ring encased Terry’s arm. Harry tapped it again and a similar ring appeared around his own wrist, joining them together. “I’ll see you at the Ministry,” he said to Ron, who nodded and then Harry turned on the spot and vanished, along with Terry.
Left on his own, Ron walked over to the table and picked up the black book. He began to leaf through it. Inside were records of every murder that Terry had been a part of, detailing dates and times. He began to turn the pages to find Hermione’s entry but suddenly he stopped. He realised he didn’t want to see. Terry Boot had been captured. No one else would have to die. It was over. He didn’t need to see what Terry had written about Hermione. He needed to remember her as she had lived, not as she had died.
He closed the book and tucked it under his arm. It could be given to the Ministry. They would decide what needed doing. He gave one last look around the room where Terry Boot had lived, before turning on the spot and Apparating.
Ron felt as if he had shaken hands with every member of the wizarding world. He had never anticipated how many people would want to say goodbye to Hermione. The church was full of people: their Hogwarts’ classmates, her Professors, her colleagues from the Ministry and anyone who felt indebted to her efforts during the war.
Hermione’s parents had organised it. They had wanted to hold it in their local church, the same in which Ron and Hermione had been married. As a result, everyone had been asked to wear Muggle clothing and there was an array of dark coloured suits filling the church.
The service had been kept personal, with only those who really knew her “ himself, Harry and her parents, speaking. Ron had managed not to cry but now, with a moment alone, he could feel tears welling up behind his eyes.
He had thought that it would be easier to accept once he knew what had happened, but if anything it had made him feel worse. Because the murderer was not the vicious monster Ron had imagined him to be; he was someone he knew “ someone who had suffered so much that they had been driven to do terrible things. The investigation had uncovered so much unhappiness that still existed in the world. It seemed to him that everything they had fought for, everything Hermione had cared about, had been wasted.
Unnoticed, he slipped out of the church and Apparated, arriving in a small graveyard. A little distance away he could see a small gathering around an open grave. He began to walk over to them.
The contrast between this and the service he had just left was startling. There were so few people. A couple who he assumed to be Eleanor Branstone’s parents stood, with tears running down their faces, at the grave side, talking to another guest. To one side, Ron saw the person he was looking for. He walked over to where Stewart Ackerley was standing, handcuffed to an Auror. He was not crying but he looked tired and withdrawn.
“Hello,” Ron said softly as he approached.
Ackerley looked at him in surprise. “You came.”
“Not for long. I will be missed soon. There is another funeral which requires my attention.”
Ackerley looked away. “I really am sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“I know,” replied Ron. “I don’t think anyone ever did. I have lost my wife; you have lost the person you loved and now your freedom. There are no happy endings in this story and at the same time there is no one who can be blamed, except perhaps Voldemort. It is just one more crime we can add to his list.”
“Thank you. No doubt I will see you again.”
“I have been called to give evidence at your trial. I will almost certainly see you then. But now, I must go.”
Ron nodded to the Auror and walked away, before Apparating back to the church, where the funeral party were beginning to move outside for the burial. Ron found his mother and took Rose from her arms. He then joined the party heading towards the freshly dug grave. The coffin was slowly lowered and the priest performed the final part of the service. Then Ron stepped forward and dropped a handful of earth on to the coffin.
“Goodbye, Hermione,” he said. “You shall never be forgotten.”
A tear followed the earth in to the open grave and Ron stepped back, hugging Rose tightly to him. His mother came and stood beside him. He felt comforted by her presence. As more and more earth was dropped in to the grave, his tears fell faster and faster. Hermione was well and truly gone; eighteen other people were dead and three would shortly be going to Azkaban.
It was finally over.
The Journey to Understanding by coolh5000
Chapter Endnotes: And so that is the end of my first Gauntlet attempt. I really enjoyed writing it and I hoped you enjoyed reading it.
(A note to the judges: all the characters I used were mentioned in canon somewhere; I just took the odd mention of them and developed them.)