Latrunculus--Part 18

Hermione paid the cab as Harry lingered on the curb. It was nearly midnight and they had finally made it to the outskirts of Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. Viktor's flat was on the third floor of the building behind her. She just hoped that they were in time to stop whatever madness Ron was planning.

“Nice American,” the cab driver said as he counted the tip. “Have good time.”

“Thank you.”

Harry watched the cab drive away. “American?”

“Well, his English is better than my Bulgarian.” She eyed the dark building. “Let's just hope that Viktor's still up.”

Harry's look indicated that he thought that was unlikely. She ignored it and entered the building. Harry followed behind her.

She glad that Viktor lived in a modest building. There was no doorman to demand who they were. Due to the late hour, the main floor was deserted.

It took her a moment to find the stairs, hidden in the back of the dim hall. They quickly arrived at the third floor. Viktor's flat was the last on the left.

Hermione's knock seemed deafeningly loud in the quiet hall. When there was no sound of movement from the flat, she knocked again. This time a grouchy voice called from inside.

“He doesn't sound happy,” Harry remarked, pulling out his wand.

“It is after midnight here, Harry.”

Viktor opened the door of his flat, still pulling on his shirt. “Herm-own-ninny? Vat are you doing here?”

“Is Ron still here, Viktor?”

“No, he has gone.”

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him about the cure?”

Viktor glanced down the hall. “Please come inside. Ve must discuss.”

“We don't have time for a chat,” Hermione snapped, surprising both Viktor and Harry. “We have to stop Ron before he does something stupid.”

“Tat is vhy ve must discuss.” He opened the door wider. “Please, Herm-own-ninny. Tere is time.”

She glanced at Harry, who returned her look. He was going to let her decide. “I hope you're right, Viktor.”

Harry followed her into the flat. Viktor closed the door with a soft thud. With a sigh, he joined his guests.

* * * * *

He squinted as he tried to make out Viktor's handwriting. Viktor had written out the necessary spells phonetically. But it was still a completely foreign tongue for Ron.

He had a few hours before the guards changed at Azkaban. He planned to be there just before the night shift ended. The exhausted night guards would be longing for their beds and probably wouldn't be too exact with protocol. While the Aurors would have noticed his absence by now, Ron hoped that they hadn't alerted the prison. But he had a plan if that had happened.

This was strategy. This was what he was good at.

Once he was sure of the incantation, he switched to practicing the wand movements. He pressed his lips tightly together to prevent himself from saying the words with the movements. He couldn't risk the words with the movement, risk ruining the spell. He wouldn't ruin Hermione's chance to get her magic back.

Hermione.

He wished that he could see her. But he knew that Shacklebolt would have eyes on her, hoping that his rogue Auror was just caught up in the whirlwind of a new relationship. But this wasn't some fling. Not for him.

He ran through his plan one more time. He accounted for different variables and devised ways to adjust if necessary. He checked his mission pack and his supplies, what little he needed. As a final precaution, he slipped Viktor's notes into his pocket.

As dawn broke with sunlight pouring into in the borrowed, empty flat, he was ready.

* * * * *

“Oh, Viktor,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “Why did you tell him all this?”

“Because he asked.”

Harry put the manuscript on the table. “But you had to know that he would be tempted to use it.”

“Yes, I knew.”

“How could you?” Hermione demanded. “You know that he will be arrested if he attempts this. And if he succeeds, he could go to Azkaban for life. If not worse! Do you hate him so much?”

“I do not hate Ron. I told him all tis because he asked. And he asked because he loves you.” Neither Harry nor Hermione seemed shocked by the statement. “He is grown man. And he is aware of consequences.”

“My magic is not worth this,” Hermione said, her quiet voice carrying in the quiet room.

“Ron does not see it tat vay,” Viktor replied.

“Hermione, if we leave now, we may get to Azkaban before Ron does.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, bringing his determined green eyes into sharp focus. “He would have needed time to get ready.”

“And what can we do when we get to Azkaban?” Hermione asked. “We aren't Aurors.”

“You are brightest vitch I have ever meet and he is Boy Who Lived. You vill tink of something. I have no doubt.” Viktor squeezed her shoulder. “But Harry is right. You must hurry if you vant to stop Ron.”

Hermione studied the Bulgarian for a moment before suddenly stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“Good luck, my friend.”

She crossed the lounge to Harry and took his hand. “Let's go.”

With a turn and a pop, the pair vanished.

To be continued


Part XVIII Hermione paid the cab as Harry lingered on the curb. It was nearly midnight and they had finally made it to the outskirts of Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. Viktor's flat was on the third floor of the building behind her. She just hoped that they were in time to stop whatever madness Ron was planning. “Nice American,” the cab driver said as he counted the tip. “Have good time.” “Thank you.” Harry watched the cab drive away. “American?” “Well, his English is better than my Bulgarian.” She eyed the dark building. “Let's just hope that Viktor's still up.” Harry's look indicated that he thought that was unlikely. She ignored it and entered the building. Harry followed behind her. She glad that Viktor lived in a modest building. There was no doorman to demand who they were. Due to the late hour, the main floor was deserted. It took her a moment to find the stairs, hidden in the back of the dim hall. They quickly arrived at the third floor. Viktor's flat was the last on the left. Hermione's knock seemed deafeningly loud in the quiet hall. When there was no sound of movement from the flat, she knocked again. This time a grouchy voice called from inside. “He doesn't sound happy,” Harry remarked, pulling out his wand. “It is after midnight here, Harry.” Viktor opened the door of his flat, still pulling on his shirt. “Herm-own-ninny? Vat are you doing here?” “Is Ron still here, Viktor?” “No, he has gone.” “What did you tell him? Did you tell him about the cure?” Viktor glanced down the hall. “Please come inside. Ve must discuss.” “We don't have time for a chat,” Hermione snapped, surprising both Viktor and Harry. “We have to stop Ron before he does something stupid.” “Tat is vhy ve must discuss.” He opened the door wider. “Please, Herm-own-ninny. Tere is time.” She glanced at Harry, who returned her look. He was going to let her decide. “I hope you're right, Viktor.” Harry followed her into the flat. Viktor closed the door with a soft thud. With a sigh, he joined his guests. * * * * * He squinted as he tried to make out Viktor's handwriting. Viktor had written out the necessary spells phonetically. But it was still a completely foreign tongue for Ron. He had a few hours before the guards changed at Azkaban. He planned to be there just before the night shift ended. The exhausted night guards would be longing for their beds and probably wouldn't be too exact with protocol. While the Aurors would have noticed his absence by now, Ron hoped that they hadn't alerted the prison. But he had a plan if that had happened. This was strategy. This was what he was good at. Once he was sure of the incantation, he switched to practicing the wand movements. He pressed his lips tightly together to prevent himself from saying the words with the movements. He couldn't risk the words with the movement, risk ruining the spell. He wouldn't ruin Hermione's chance to get her magic back. Hermione. He wished that he could see her. But he knew that Shacklebolt would have eyes on her, hoping that his rogue Auror was just caught up in the whirlwind of a new relationship. But this wasn't some fling. Not for him. He ran through his plan one more time. He accounted for different variables and devised ways to adjust if necessary. He checked his mission pack and his supplies, what little he needed. As a final precaution, he slipped Viktor's notes into his pocket. As dawn broke with sunlight pouring into in the borrowed, empty flat, he was ready. * * * * * “Oh, Viktor,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “Why did you tell him all this?” “Because he asked.” Harry put the manuscript on the table. “But you had to know that he would be tempted to use it.” “Yes, I knew.” “How could you?” Hermione demanded. “You know that he will be arrested if he attempts this. And if he succeeds, he could go to Azkaban for life. If not worse! Do you hate him so much?” “I do not hate Ron. I told him all tis because he asked. And he asked because he loves you.” Neither Harry nor Hermione seemed shocked by the statement. “He is grown man. And he is aware of consequences.” “My magic is not worth this,” Hermione said, her quiet voice carrying in the quiet room. “Ron does not see it tat vay,” Viktor replied. “Hermione, if we leave now, we may get to Azkaban before Ron does.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, bringing his determined green eyes into sharp focus. “He would have needed time to get ready.” “And what can we do when we get to Azkaban?” Hermione asked. “We aren't Aurors.” “You are brightest vitch I have ever meet and he is Boy Who Lived. You vill tink of something. I have no doubt.” Viktor squeezed her shoulder. “But Harry is right. You must hurry if you vant to stop Ron.” Hermione studied the Bulgarian for a moment before suddenly stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Viktor.” “Good luck, my friend.” She crossed the lounge to Harry and took his hand. “Let's go.” With a turn and a pop, the pair vanished. To be continued


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