The Black Locket – Part III: The Price of Betrayal
"We're close," said Tonks, spotting the first houses of the village emerging through the mist. She was slightly out of breath, clearly exhausted from running. "Honestly, what a bunch of bastards... setting up such massive anti-Apparition wards. How much gold did they waste on this?"
"Shh," Cedric cut her off, raising his hand and pointing to the sky.
Several Dementors were circling overhead, and beyond them, broom-riding silhouettes moved through the air: Death Eaters. A full deployment. It made sense—they were after a Horcrux, an object that could bring their master back to life.
"What do we do? Should we use the Floo Network?" Cedric asked, watching as the airborne enemies drifted away for a moment.
"It's probably being watched... we could move to a more crowded area. But first, let's hide and wait for the others," Tonks said firmly.
Runa scanned the surroundings cautiously, her daggers already drawn. Hagrid followed a few paces behind them, visibly tired from the long run, but still moving.
As soon as they stepped into the village center, they noticed something was wrong. The streets were nearly empty. The silence was heavy—unnatural. Then, sluggish figures began to emerge from the alleyways.
Zombies.
Not many, but enough to surround them.
Without a word, Cedric, Tonks, Runa, and Hagrid moved into a defensive formation.
Then, a different figure appeared among the undead. A man. Alive.
A Death Eater.
He was dragging someone by the neck, forcing them forward roughly.
They recognized him instantly.
"Ron..." Cedric muttered.
"Give me the Horcrux or the brat dies," the Death Eater threatened, pressing his wand tightly against the redhead's throat.
"Hagrid, help me!" Ron cried out, drenched in tears, his face covered in bruises. His voice trembled, breaking with fear.
"Ron..." Hagrid took a step forward but froze as he saw the Death Eater dig his wand deeper into the boy's neck.
"I warned you, giant," the Death Eater said with a cruel smile. "Hand it over… and your little friend lives. If not, his blood will be on your hands."
Runa turned her gaze to the sky. The dark "clouds" approaching were no clouds at all. Dementors. Among them flew witches and wizards on brooms—reinforcements.
They didn't have much time.
"Please, Hagrid... give it to him... I want to live..." Ron sobbed. "I don't want to die..."
Hagrid looked at him, heart aching. From their very first year, Ron had been like a little brother to him—just like Harry, just like Hermione. But giving up the Horcrux... would mean unleashing another war on the world.
Runa, eyes still locked on the Death Eater, gave Cedric and Tonks a subtle signal. They nodded.
"We're friends, Hagrid… please," Ron begged once more.
"Give it to him," Runa murmured quietly.
The half-giant looked at her, then at Ron... and finally at the locket hidden in his pocket.
With a pained sigh, he threw it toward the Death Eater.
The man grinned like he'd already won, shoving Ron aside. In the blink of an eye, Cedric and Tonks fired spells at the surrounding zombies. Runa vanished.
She reappeared right in front of the Death Eater, just as he reached for the locket. He looked up—and the last thing he saw were Runa's black daggers flying toward his chest. He could feel their bloodlust before they struck.
Panicking, he triggered Apparition. If he could escape with the Horcrux…
The anti-Apparition wards had been disabled when they captured Hagrid. He'd taken the risk and deactivated them himself. It was his only chance.
He touched the locket just as Runa's blade pierced his heart.
The Apparition portal began to pull him in—but only his arm vanished, taking the locket with it.
His body remained, staggering. He looked down and saw the black steel embedded in his chest. The spell had failed. Fear overtook him—but he had no time to react.
He dropped dead.
Runa stared at him without emotion. Then turned to Ron, still curled up on the ground, face buried in his arms.
Tonks, Cedric, and Hagrid approached after finishing off the last of the zombies.
"Where is it?" Cedric asked, frowning.
"He sent it somewhere else," Runa replied, lifting the Death Eater's mutilated body. "Let's go back."
"He sent it? And why are you carrying the corpse?" Tonks asked, still in shock.
"When someone is about to die, the last thing on their mind is their mission. The first thing... is going home. Or at least somewhere safe," Runa said calmly. "If we figure out who this idiot was, maybe we can trace where the Horcrux went. And my master knows how to extract information… even from the dead."
Tonks widened her eyes in surprise. Cedric, meanwhile, remembered something Einar always used to say with a wry tone:
"Don't worry if you die. I can bring you back. Although… maybe as a slave."
For the first time, Cedric wondered if it hadn't been a joke after all.
They glanced at Ron—still trembling, still silent. But when they saw more shadows descending from the sky, they didn't hesitate.
They Disapparated with a snap, taking Ron… and the corpse… with them.
…
The door to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, burst open.
Tonks, Hagrid, Cedric, and Runa rushed inside, carrying Ron and the Death Eater's armless body.
Inside, Einar, the Weasley family, and several members of the Order of the Phoenix—who had arrived earlier—stood with grim expressions.
But the moment Molly saw her son, she ran to him and hugged him tightly, tears falling from her eyes.
"My Ron..." she whispered, checking him over frantically.
Alice approached silently, casting diagnostic spells to assess his injuries.
Einar said nothing at first. He stared at Ron for a few long seconds... then turned his gaze toward Runa.
"Professor… I know you told me to only train Cedric… but I couldn't just stand by—"
"It's fine," Einar replied with total calm. "I never said you couldn't help. You're free to do as you wish."
"Oh..." Runa blinked, a little surprised. He was right—he never had forbidden her.
"Can you get anything from this one?" she asked. "He used that dark magic—Apparition—to transport the object somewhere else."
And with complete nonchalance, she dropped the corpse to the floor.
"Dren," Einar said simply.
A second later, the demon appeared in the middle of the room. Some of those present instinctively stepped back, startled by the dark presence manifesting without warning.
Dren glanced around with indifference. His eyes fell on the armless corpse, and he nodded, understanding immediately what he had to do.
Meanwhile, more members of the Order of the Phoenix began to arrive.
Moody entered limping, his face twisted with pain, holding a bleeding arm.
"Is everyone here?" he asked in a hoarse voice as another member rushed over to cast a basic healing charm on him.
"We're still missing Sirius's group," Arthur replied gravely.
But just then, the door burst open again, and the missing group arrived, dragging in a gravely injured man—Sturgis Podmore. Einar recognized him instantly. He'd spent a short time in Azkaban, wrongly imprisoned. Einar had freed him himself, along with several other innocent captives.
Sirius stepped in with a face twisted by rage.
"That idiot Mundungus!" he roared the moment he crossed the threshold.
Einar lifted a hand without a word. A healing aura enveloped Podmore, and within seconds, the bleeding stopped—though he remained unconscious. Then he did the same for Moody, whose wound closed so quickly it surpassed even Alice's best healing spells.
"What happened?" Moody asked, flexing his newly healed arm. Even internal damage—things no one had seen—had been repaired.
"That coward Mundungus betrayed us," Sirius spat, his voice thick with fury. "He used Sturgis as a shield when the Dementors attacked us. Pushed him straight into their path. They almost gave him the Kiss. He nearly lost his soul."
He paused, visibly shaken by the memory.
"I had to throw myself into the middle of hundreds of those things to pull him out. Merlin knows how many there were. It was worse than the day Harry saved me… far worse."
"Where's the locket?" Moody asked, laser-focused as he turned to Hagrid's group.
"They had a hostage," Tonks said in a quiet, guilty voice.
Hagrid lowered his head in silence, as if carrying a heavy stone in his chest.
"Sir," Dren spoke up, drawing the attention of those who hadn't seen him arrive. Several of the newcomers instinctively raised their wands.
But Einar lifted a calm hand, and the tension dissolved. The wands slowly lowered.
"The soul of this man has been destroyed," Dren reported in a flat, even tone.
"Destroyed?" Einar asked, frowning slightly.
"Yes, sir. Ripped apart by a curse that—even as a Dremora—I find rather foolish in its waste. It only destroys the soul. Such a waste…"
"Can you retrieve anything? Even just a memory fragment?" Einar asked, his voice sharper now.
"Only the last thing he saw," Dren replied.
"That's exactly what we need," said Runa, casually patting Dren on the back. Several Order members stared, shocked at how casually she treated a literal demon.
Dren rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.
He snapped his fingers and cast a dark spell. The corpse slowly rose, its eyes glowing white.
Without anyone asking a question, its mouth opened and spoke a single word.
"Home. Home. Home."
Over and over again.
"There it is," Dren said calmly.
"I was right," Runa said, as if it were nothing at all.
"Does anyone know who this guy is?" Tonks asked, scanning the faces in the room.
Everyone shook their heads—until a voice spoke from one corner of the room.
Harry.
"He's the guy from the Knight Bus," he said, drawing everyone's attention. "Said his name was Stanley. I only saw him once… but it's him."
"Alright. Someone find out everything about him. Fast," Moody ordered. Two members immediately darted out of the house.
"Another race against the clock," Cedric muttered, stripping off his leather armor, soaked in rotten blood, and tossing it into a corner in disgust.
"What happened with Weasley?" Moody asked Einar, while every gaze in the room turned to them. Ron should have been with Einar on the Hogwarts Express—not a hostage. Something wasn't adding up.
"Was it during the train attack? Was Ron taken then?" Molly asked, distraught. "My poor boy… what he must have gone through at the hands of those monsters…" she added, hugging him tightly. Ron clung to the role of victim like a shield.
"No one gets taken when they're near me," Einar said simply, arms crossed, voice cold as steel.
Arthur looked at him, torn.
"Then… what happened to Ron?" he asked. His voice tried to remain neutral, but it was clear he struggled between trusting Einar… and his instincts as a father.
Einar hesitated. Arthur was, in a way, a friend.
But then Ginny spoke.
"During the trap meant for Harry—the one where Sirius nearly died… it was actually Ron's fault," she said suddenly.
Silence dropped like a hammer.
"Ginny?" Arthur said in disbelief. "Do you know what you're saying?"
Fred placed a hand on her shoulder but stepped forward with George.
"That day, Ron took Sirius's crystal orb to stop Harry from contacting him. He said Death Eaters had approached him while he was out shopping with Mum and threatened him into it."
"When we spoke to Karcher, Sirius's elf, he told us Ron gave him away. That's when Harry feared the worst," added George seriously.
"Wait—" Sirius said, raising a hand and locking eyes on Ron. "Are you telling me Harry was in danger because of you? You're the one who exposed Karcher to Bellatrix?"
"No! No!" Ron shouted, hiding behind his mother. Molly stared at him wide-eyed.
"I only stole the orb! That's it! I didn't do anything else—I swear! They showed me pictures of my family… they threatened me. I just wanted to protect them!"
Sirius narrowed his eyes and turned toward Arthur, whose face now showed betrayal and sorrow.
"Boy," Moody growled, stepping closer with measured steps. "All Order members are constantly under watch. Always. No one gets attacked in broad daylight without us knowing. That day, when you went out with your mother, your father and brother—and others—were outside protecting the area."
He locked his magical eye on Ron.
"At what exact moment did the Death Eaters approach you?"
"I... I... at some point... they appeared in an alley. They spoke to me quickly," Ron stammered, his face pale and eyes wide.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Molly wore a heart-wrenching expression, caught between the instinct to protect her son and the horrible suspicion forming in her mind.
"Where's your orb, Sirius?" Frank asked seriously.
"I haven't recovered it yet. I've got a replacement," Sirius replied through clenched teeth.
"And today, during the mission where Tonks, Cedric, and Runa found clues after so long… it turned into a large-scale battle. With barriers, traps, a full deployment…" Frank continued, never taking his eyes off Ron.
Molly suddenly remembered something. A specific moment. Her son's expression. The way he handled information… the way he lied.
"It can't be," she whispered, shaking her head. "No… no, it can't be…" she repeated, trembling.
"What is it, Molly?" Arthur asked, concerned.
"Ron… tell me it's not true. I saw you. I asked what you were doing. You said you found the orb by accident. Tell me it's not true," she pleaded, fear and desperation flooding her voice.
"No! I didn't do anything! It was Professor Einar's fault!" Ron suddenly shouted, pointing at him. "He lost sight of me! They kidnapped me right under his nose! I was a victim! A hostage! It's his fault! He's supposed to be stronger than Dumbledore—and yet he couldn't protect me!"
Einar, standing with his arms crossed, stared at him silently. Then he let out a calm sigh.
"No one gets kidnapped when they're near me," he said coolly.
"The moment Ginny told me you were missing, I saw you running out of the station. You were heading straight for that man," Einar said, pointing at Stanley's corpse on the floor.
Gasps rippled through the room. All eyes turned to Ron.
"That's a lie!" Ron screamed, red with fury.
Hermione, Harry, and the others who had been watching from the corner, looked at him with a mix of sadness and disappointment.
"It's all your fault! Everything went to hell the moment you showed up! And now you're blaming me to escape the consequences—but you're lying! You—you ruined everything!" Ron shouted, years of resentment erupting from deep within.
Then his eyes scanned the room… and landed on Hermione.
She looked at him with a mixture of sorrow… and rejection.
Next was Harry, whose expression was one of betrayal.
And finally… Neville. The boy who now occupied the place Ron believed should've been his.
"It's your fault!" Ron shrieked, drawing his wand and aiming it straight at Einar.
But he never got to act.
Runa appeared right beside him, her black dagger pressed precisely against his throat.
Lucia stood firm in front of him, holding her massive hammer with both hands, her cold, calculating eyes silently measuring which bones to break first.
Sofie, just a few steps away, had both hands raised, channeling mana as her hair danced with magical energy. Her spell was charged, humming in the air with violent intent.
Avento, to the right, raised one hand with a serious expression. He didn't need words—his presence alone promised devastation.
Blaise, positioned to Ron's left, gripped his greatsword with one hand, aiming it at his side—ready to slice him in two without hesitation.
Lars was already behind Ron, one blade poised to plunge into his back.
Samuel stood in front of Einar, shield raised and mace in hand, like a wall that would shatter anything crossing the line.
Alesan, beside Einar, held his greatsword ready, gaze cold and resolute.
Hroar didn't move—but the way his muscles tensed around his twin axes said everything. He was ready to pounce.
And finally, Harry—his wand firmly aimed at Ron. No hesitation. No tremor. No doubt. His gaze was resolute. He was ready to strike.
Ron wasn't strong. Not like them. Being surrounded like this was overwhelming. But this wasn't an overreaction. This was protection. Loyalty. Any one of them could've killed him in a breath. But more than that, they made something very clear:
They knew who their leader was. Their teacher. Their father.
Ron froze. His body trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure of the battle instincts converging on him.
"Please, no!" Molly screamed, stepping in front of her son. Her voice was raw maternal instinct.
"Molly…" Moody intervened, his voice hard but controlled. "It's best if we keep him under surveillance. Out of respect for you and your family… we won't do anything. Is that alright, Einar?"
Einar raised his hand, and the students lowered their weapons—but their eyes remained fixed on Ron, full of disdain.
Blaise stepped forward, took Ron's wand, and snapped it cleanly in front of him, letting the pieces fall like trash.
Molly, trembling, pulled Ron into her arms. Then, without a word, began to lead him away from the center of the room. Several Order members followed.
They all knew Ron had to be contained.
Watched.
Arthur walked slowly toward Einar. His steps were heavy—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of shame.
"I'm sorry, Einar. I didn't know my own son—"
But Einar cut him off with quiet resolve.
"It's alright. This isn't the first time it's happened," he said, in that cold, dangerous calm that seemed to chill the air. He barely turned his head toward Arthur.
"But your son needs to understand one thing very clearly… the only reason he still has his arm after raising a wand at me—is because of our friendship."
Arthur didn't reply. He simply nodded, his expression dark.
He knew that wasn't a threat.
It was a generous warning.