Harry was unconscious, maybe dead. They had to get him out of here; they had to get themselves out of here.
Unforgivables were flying over their pathetic cover like a fireworks display, in their light Ron could see his surroundings as if someone had flipped a switch. He studied it like the battlefield of one of his chess games.
They were a measly ten feet from the exit, from there Hermione could deapperate Harry and herself out of here. That is if she could concentrate. . .
Her face was red and wet with tears, she wasn’t crying about her own fate. Hermione would let them torture her into insanity before she would give death eaters that pleasure. Harry still wasn’t moving, and they warrant sure if he was breathing.
Ron thought about the grim options, he had been in a game like this one some seven years ago, then he had had to clear the way so that Harry could save the sorcerers stone. Now his friends needed a destraction if they were getting out, if the Dark Lord was ever to be defeated.
Ron knew that sometimes in chess you had to sacrifice certain pieces to assure victory. Sometimes it was necessary to loose one to save the others.
He had never considered himself very brave, and knew that he wasn’t anything special when it came to power. But he had always done what he could to help and protect his friends and family and he would not fail them now.
Taking a deep breath he looked to Hermione “When you get the chance, take Harry and run”
She only had a second to realize what this meant before Ron leaped from behind the cover, casting a shield charm as he flew.
Ron had never experienced the sensation that now seared through his veins. It wasn’t fear, though he had everything to be afraid of. It was like winning the house cup or making a save in quiditch.
Perhaps this was glory.
As Ron ran, dodging the curses his thought’s somehow became clearer. He had always seen himself without glory; he was only the youngest Weasley brother or Harry Potter’s sidekick.
But perhaps he had been looking at it all wrong.
A blue beam connected with Ron’s stomach. He hit the ground hard, but only felt the curse as it seared through him like a wave.
He had always thought of glory as doing better than his brothers or being the hero, things he couldn’t seem to do.
He saw now that glory isn’t always about fame and fortune. That kind of glory is easily attained, easily forgotten and usually lasts until the money runs out.
Glory isn’t always about winning or saving the day, sometimes it’s about something much harder. Going in knowing that you will fail, but doing it anyway to save what’s most important to you.
Ron heard a distinct pop and knew Hermione had deapperated, his friends were gone. They were safe.