MTL - 94 Diagon Alley-Chapter 211 Festival

Trembling, she grabbed the pile of clothes that were still lying by the water, and put them one by one on her head, staring at Ron, a little worried that every time he could not see him, he would disappear. But he should be true: he just jumped into the pond and saved his life.

"Is—is it you?" Harry finally said, his teeth chattering, his voice weaker than usual because he was nearly strangled.

"Hmm," said Ron, looking a little flustered.

"You—you called that doe?"

"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you!"

"My patron saint is a stag."

"Oh, yes, I don't think they look the same, they don't have horns."

Harry hung the leather bag from Hagrid around his neck, put on the last sweater, bent over to pick up Hermione's wand, and looked at Ron again.

"Why are you here?"

Obviously, Ron wanted this question to be raised later, or not at all.

"Well, I—you know—I'm back—" He cleared his throat. "Of course, I wasn't going to leave."

There was a moment of silence, and the topic of Ron's departure seemed like a wall between them. But here he is, he's back, he's just saved Harry's life.

Ron looked down at what was in his hand and seemed surprised for a moment.

"Oh, yes, I fished it out." He said unnecessarily, showing the sword to Harry. "That's what you jumped for, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I don't understand, how did you get here? How did you find us?"

"It's a long story," said Ron. "I've been looking for you for hours. The forest is huge, isn't it? I saw the deer running over and you followed."

"You don't see anyone else?"

"No," said Ron, "I—"

He hesitated, looking at two trees next to each other a few meters away.

"—I think I see something moving over there, but I'm running toward the pond because you jumped down and didn't come up, so I don't want to detour—hey!"

Harry was already running to where Ron pointed. Two oaks growing close together, with a gap of only inches at eye level, was a good place to steal without being discovered. But there was no snow around the roots, and Harry saw no footprints. He walked back to where Ron stood waiting, still holding the sword.

"Is there anything there?" Ron asked.

"No."

"Why is the sword in the pond?"

"It must be the one who summoned the patron saint to put it in."

The two looked at the exquisite silver sword, the hilt of the ruby ​​inlaid with light shining in the fluorescence of Hermione's wand.

"After you left," Harry whispered, Ron's face covered, "Hermione cried for a week, maybe longer, but she didn't want me to see it. There were several We don't talk at night. You're not..."

He couldn't go on, and now that Ron was back, Harry fully realized how much it was a pity for them not to have him.

Ron didn't answer, but turned his face away and wiped his nose loudly with his sleeves. Harry got up and walked to Ron's huge backpack a few meters away, which Ron had left behind as he ran to the pond to save him. Harry carried it on his back and walked back to Ron. Ron got up too, eyes bloodshot but calm.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have left. I know I'm a—was—"

He looked around in the darkness, as if hoping that a sufficiently vicious word would swoop down to claim him.

"You almost made it up tonight," said Harry. "Draw out the sword and saved my life."

"Sounds much bigger than me," muttered Ron.

"Things like this always sound so much bigger than they really are," said Harry. "I've been meaning to tell you that for years."

The two stepped forward at the same time, hugging each other, and Harry grabbed the still damp clothes on Ron's back.

"Now," said Harry after they parted, "all we have to do is find the tent."

Finding a tent is not difficult. Although it seemed like a long way to follow the doe through the Black Forest, with Ron by his side, it took surprisingly little time to get back. Harry couldn't wait to wake Hermione. He walked into the tent excitedly, and Ron followed, a little hesitantly.

It is very warm here compared to the pond and forest. The only source of light was those bluebell-like flames, still glistening in a bowl on the ground. Hermione slept soundly curled up in the blanket, only to wake up after Harry called her several times.

"Hermione!"

She moved, sat up quickly, and brushed the hair from her face.

"What's the matter, Harry? Are you all right?"

"It's alright, everything's fine, not just fine, it's great, there's someone here."

"What did you say? Who-?"

She saw Ron standing there with a sword, dripping water on the broken carpet. Harry retreated into the shadows in the corner, removed Ron's backpack, and tried to blend in with the tent's canvas walls.

Hermione got out of bed and walked towards Ron sleepwalking, staring at his pale face. She stopped in front of him, her lips parted slightly, her eyes wide open. Ron gave a hopeless smile and half-opened his arms.

Hermione charged forward and began to beat every inch of him within her reach.

"Ouch- ooh- let go! Why-? Hermione--ooh!"

“You—big—jerk—Ron—Weasley!”

She adds a punch to every word she says. Ron ducked back, shielding his head, while Hermione followed closely.

"You—crawled back—come?—so many—so many—weeks—and then—oh, where's my wand?"

She seemed to wrest it away from Harry, and Harry reacted instinctively.

"Armor!"

The invisible vertical wall immediately separated Ron and Hermione, and the force knocked her down on her back. She spat the hair out of her mouth and jumped up again.

"Hermione!" said Harry, "calm-"

"I won't be calm!" she screamed. He had never seen her so out of control, just like crazy.

"Give me the wand! Give me back!"

"Hermione, please—"

"Don't command me, Harry Potter!" she shouted sharply, "I warn you! Give it back! And you!"

She pointed accusingly at Ron, like a curse, Harry couldn't blame Ron for taking a few steps back.

"I ran after you! I called you! I beg you to come back!"

"I know," said Ron, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I really—"

"Oh, you're sorry!"

She laughed, a sharp, hysterical sound. Ron looked at Harry for help, but Harry just grimaced and said he couldn't do anything.

"It took you so many weeks--so many weeks--you thought it would be okay to say sorry?"

"Then what else can I say?" Ron shouted, Harry happy that Ron was starting to resist.

"Oh, I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed, with bitter sarcasm, "Rack your brains, Ron, it only takes two seconds—"

"Hermione," Harry interjected, who thought it was a very unkind attack, "he just saved me—"

"I don't care!" she screamed, "I don't care what he did! After all these weeks, we might all be dead—"

"I know you're not dead!" Ron roared, suppressing her voice for the first time, and stepped forward as far as possible through the Iron Armor, "The Daily Prophet published Talking about Harry all the time, on the radio, they're looking for you, a lot of rumours and ridiculous stories, I know I'll hear about you if you die, you don't know—"

"I don't know how you lived?"

Her voice is now so high-pitched that soon only bats will be able to hear it. But she was so angry that she was speechless for a moment, and Ron took the chance.

"I want to come back as soon as I Apparate, but I'm in the middle of a raider, Hermione, I can't get away!"

"A group of what?" Harry asked. Hermione slumped into the chair, her arms clasped tightly, her legs crossed, and it looked like she wouldn't let it go for years.

"The raiders," said Ron, "are all over the place, a bunch of guys trying to make gold by hunting down Muggle-born wizards and pure-blood traitors. For every one of them the Ministry of Magic has Bonus. I'm alone, and I look like school age again, and they get excited thinking I'm a Muggle-born who escaped. I'll just hurry up and talk so I don't get dragged into the Ministry of Magic."

"What did you tell them?"

"I say Stan Thorpak, the first person I can think of."

"They believe?"

"Those guys aren't very smart. One must be of troll blood, smells like that..."

Ron glanced at Hermione, obviously hoping the little humor would lighten her spirits a little, but her limbs were still tightly tangled, her expression like a slate.

"Anyway, they fought over whether I was Stan or not, which was a little pathetic to be honest. But they were five to me, and they took my wand. Two later Personal fights, and while everyone else was distracted, I punched the guy who grabbed me in the stomach, grabbed his wand, cast a Disarm Charm on the guy who was holding my wand, and I Apparate. I'm not doing well, and I've split again—" Ron raised his right hand, missing two fingernails. Hermione raised her eyebrows coldly. "—the place of appearance is so far away from you. When I get back to the original river—you are gone."

"Oops, what a thrilling story," Hermione said as she wanted to hurt someone