Who Killed Ronald Weasley?

Chapter 14 The Spirit of Ron Weasley by Wolfiekins The Downward Spiral: Ron Speaks
by Wolfiekins

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All eight suspects were gathered in Rufus Scrimgeour\'s opulent office. Two Aurors stood guard at the door. Neither Scrimgeour nor Basher were present in the office. A blazing fire roared in the hearth. There was a sizable breakfast buffet spread out on one of the huge mahogany sideboards. No one had ventured to sample any food, although a few nervously sipped at tea. The air was fairly static with nervous energy. Eight pairs of eyes glanced and darted about the office, each suspect studying each one of the others in turn. Some were outwardly calmer than others.

Draco looked ready to fall asleep, stretched out on one of the overstuffed velvet sofas flanking the fireplace. Harry sat scrunched into the opposite corner of the same sofa, his face pale, studying the pattern in the carpet. Neville was pacing nervously back and forth across the room. Severus was leaning comfortably against the wall next to the sideboard, a small smirk pasted onto his face. Molly was fussing with the food on the sideboard, stirring and poking it, casting charms to keep it warm. When she tired of this, she would pace back and forth for a moment before sipping her tea and returning to the sideboard to torment the food once more. Hermione sat on the sofa opposite Harry and Draco, casually sipping her second cup of tea. Blaise slouched at the opposite end of the same sofa, alternately staring at Hermione and Harry. Lucius sat enthroned in a huge, leather, wing-backed chair in the far corner of the office. His elegant fingers were steepled in front of his face, his expression one of supreme boredom.

The only sounds in the office were the crackle of the fire, Neville\'s soft footfalls, and the occasional tinkling of the utensils hitting the china as Molly poked at the food. So far, no one had spoken a single word.

After what seemed like hours, there was a muffled series of clicks, and the huge, four-paneled oak door swung open. Chief Investigator Basher strode into the office, followed by Sybil Trelawney. The contrast between the tall, imposing, impeccably dressed Auror and the somewhat shabby, hunched and layered Professor was such that every eye in the room instantly was drawn to them. Zacharias Smith trailed behind them, looking a little lost. His eyes flitted from one suspect to another, his gaze finally coming to rest on his superior. Colin Creevey completed the procession, striding past Smith and heading towards the buffet table.

\"Please, remain seated,\" Basher pronounced with a lazy wave of her hand. No one had made an attempt to stand. She apparently hadn\'t noticed. Basher unclasped her black cloak and draped it over Scrimgeour\'s empty chair. She motioned to the other two Aurors.
\"Thank you, you may leave now. Please wait outside until I call for you.\" They nodded robotically as they exited the office, giving Smith curt little nods before the door closed and locked itself. Smith moved to stand next to the hearth. Creevey concentrated on filling his plate with sausages.

Trelawney was clutching something wrapped in black satin. Her hugely magnified eyes jerked erratically about the office, the heavy burden of beads and necklaces softly clicking away as her head swiveled from side to side. She wandered slowly over to the first sofa, bending down to stare at the back of Blaise\'s head.

\"Professor, if you please!\" Basher startled Trelawney, who nearly dropped whatever it was she was holding.

\"Ooh, so sorry, Boadicea. His aura, yes, it was pulsing. I\'m attuned to these things, you know.\"

Blaise had turned to face the Professor with a look of utter disdain. Before he could speak, Basher cleared her throat importantly.

\"I have assembled you together this morning for the final phase of my investigation. As you all may have guessed, Auror Smith and I have completed the individual interviews. We have reviewed the information you have given us very carefully. I appreciate your patience. I realize it is a tremendous inconvenience to remain in the holding cells while we complete our investigation.\" As if on cue, many of the suspects appeared to want to speak at once. Again, Basher held up her hand, silencing them.

\"Please, I would ask that you hold any comments until after Professor Trelawney has finished.\"

\"What is that fraud doing here, anyway, Madame Basher?\" Lucius drawled haughtily from his corner.

Basher whirled to face the older Malfoy. \"If my request for silence was in any way unclear, Mr. Malfoy, I will be more than happy to explain it to you again when you are in Solitary Confinement. Shall I summon the Aurors in the corridor to escort you there now?\" Smith snapped to attention, puffing himself up.

The older Malfoy glared at both Aurors, his face slowly but unmistakably tingeing a deep red. He gave Basher an imperceptible little nod.

Basher turned her back to Lucius and gestured at the Professor. \"As I mentioned, we have heard from everyone involved in this murder. All but one. The victim. With Professor Trelawney\'s assistance, we will all hear what Ron Weasley has to say. Again, I must stress that any comments be held until after we have finished. Sybil? You may proceed.\"

Trelawney nodded, and moved to the huge coffee table situated between the two couches. She carefully unwrapped the item in her hands, letting the black satin fall to the carpet. She gently placed the huge crystal ball in the middle of the table, murmuring a charm to keep it in place. Clasping her hands together and scanning the room, she took a deep breath.

\"Now, as you all no doubt remember from your Divination studies, it is a most elementary process to contact those in the Beyond. One must simply concentrate on the person we are attempting to contact. That should be an easy task, since Mr. Weasley has been the primary focus of everyone for the last few days.\" Trelawney moved quickly over to Hermione, placing a hand directly on the top of her head. Hermione jerked herself away, scowling. Trelawney sighed, shaking her head. \"Shame, shame.\" Looking up, she spread her arms, nearly smacking Neville, who had walked up behind her.

\"We shall now contact the Great Beyond! Open your minds! Stretch out with your feelings! Focus on Ron Weasley! Call out to him so that he may find us! Direct your energies to the crystal!\"

Draco snorted loudly. Hermione crossed her arms, and stared into the fire. Neville had closed his eyes. Severus and Molly had moved closer to the sofas, and were both gazing at the crystal. Harry\'s head was still down, but his eyes were also closed. Blaise was staring at Neville.
Trelawney was still holding her arms wide, her eyes staring at the ceiling. She made a few quick glances at the crystal, as if waiting for something. Basher took in the entire scene, the first signs of impatience creeping across her features.

Suddenly, the fire in the hearth died down. The lights dimmed, and the crystal began to glow faintly. Hermione gasped, and Neville and Harry both opened their eyes to stare at the now pulsating crystal ball. They all could hear a faint keening sound, growling louder, as if getting closer. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped ten degrees. Trelawney brought her hands together, her face triumphant.
\"Speak now, spirit of our dear departed!\" she boomed, causing everyone to jump.

The keening had turned into a soft moaning. It was clearly emanating from the crystal, slowly changing to a somewhat cartoonist wailing. Like a child imitating a ghost.

Woooooooo Hooooooo! My Aura is pulsing! I am in The Great Beyond! Wooooooooo!
Bollocks!
First off, the afterlife isn\'t what it\'s cracked up to be. Second, that slag Trelawney is a total fraud. She couldn\'t look an hour into the future with a telescope.

Well, well, well. Now someone finally wants to hear my story. ‘Bout fucking time. And since I\'ve got an eternity of it on my hands, I\'m more than happy to give you a run down of my thankfully short, miserable life. That\'s right, you\'re going to get the Full Monty. Sorry, no questions from the floor until the speaker is done. It\'s my turn now, and you\'re all going to hear what I have to say, whether you want to or not.

Right.

Now, on with the floorshow.

First, you don\'t have any fucking idea of what it was like. To be me. To be a fucking Weasley. All of us crammed into that shabby shack. Always so fucking happy to be dirt poor. Always scrabbling for something to eat. Always to be at the bottom of the food chain. Can you guess what it was like to be the sixth of six sons? Sheer Hell, mate, let me tell you. Do you know what it was like to never have new clothes? Or shoes? To stuff bits of old sock into boots two sizes too big so they would stay on your foot? To have your feet covered in blisters because those fucking boots would slide on your feet all day long? To always have patched and worn robes? To always have everyone else make fun of you? \"Oh look, it\'s another Weasley! You can tell by the hair and the shabby clothes!\" If I had had a galleon for every bleeding time I heard that line.

Fuck \'em! Fuck \'em all!

That\'s what it was like to be me. That\'s what it was like to be Ronald Bilius Weasley. Shit. I didn\'t stand a chance.

Oh yeah, you\'ll say, we had each other. We had The Family. Bollocks! Do you know many times I had to hear that nonsense? It fucking made me ill. My Mum, always so bleeding cheerful and happy. Pull together, we\'re Weasleys! Hang tough, we\'re Weasleys! We\'ll get through, we\'re Weasleys! It got to the point that I wanted to strangle her whenever she shrieked those clichés. It was like living with some kind of demented cheerleader. Fucking bitch!

Well, you might also say that I had my older brothers to rely on. Good one, that. I was ten before I found out that it wasn\'t normal to have your oldest brother shove his prick into your mouth on a regular basis. Until then, I thought that it happened to all seven year olds. I was nine when Bill started fucking me. The Twins joined in a bit later. Mum turned a blind eye. Dad hid in his shed playing with his Muggle garbage. Life in The Burrow. Fucking Hell, was what it was.

I was such a fool. I actually thought that things would get better when I went to Hogwarts. Yeah, right. The first couple years were OK, though. Right after I met him. Harry. Gods, I think I fell for him the first moment I saw him on the Hogwarts Express. Just my luck, yeah? To fall in love with The Boy Who Lived. The sodding saviour of the Wizarding World! From the frying pan into the fire! Still, the first three years at Hogwarts were the happiest of my life. I was with him almost all of the time. It was heaven. Harry actually needed me then. And his head hadn\'t swelled yet with all that Voldemort crap. I was naive enough to actually think that he might feel the same way about me. You know, the way that I felt about him. But I never said what I felt. How I loved him. How I needed him. More than anything. More than life itself. But I was a coward. I didn\'t say anything until it was too late.

It all started to go wrong again during that fucking Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry dropped me like a piece of steaming skrewt shite. The Champion of Gryffindor. Fuck. I could have dropped dead and it would have been months before he even noticed. And I wasn\'t blind. I saw how Harry looked at Diggory. They were fucking, I know it. Well, who doesn\'t want to shag The Boy Who Lived, yeah? And then there was the Second Task. You remember that one, right? Where someone that each Champion would sorely miss was stunned and anchored to the bottom of the lake? That old prick Dumbledore probably dreamed up that cluster fuck himself.

\"Oh, but wait, Ronniekins, you were chosen for that honour!\" you\'ll be saying. Fucking-A right, I was chosen to be Harry\'s prize. But what you don\'t know is that initially, it was just me! Just old Ronald Bilius Weasley. Just me chosen as the thing that Harry would most sorely miss. I was so fucking happy, I nearly pissed myself when Dumbledore told me in his office. Like a fucking moron, I actually started to cry. Then the other shoe dropped when that hag McGonagall dragged Granger through the door. That skanky old twat had convinced Dumbledore that it would send the \'wrong message\' if it were just me. You know, the whole bleeding Wizarding World would just shit itself and expire if it were revealed that The Boy Who Lived was a Nancy Boy. And fancied a Weasley, no less. The official line was that she was for Krum. Bullshit. I knew better. So that\'s how I ended up chained to the bottom of the lake with my future fiancée. Oh, but I\'m getting ahead of myself.
Having fun yet? No? Good.

So…right after that embarrassment, I decided to shoot my wad and tell Harry how I felt. Of course, he was too busy with the rest of the Tournament. Naturally, he almost got himself killed. Again. So it wasn\'t until after our fifth year started that I told him how I felt. You know, I laid my heart out for him, and he pretty much stomped on it. The little fucking fairy was already screwing Malfoy. Malfoy! Harry spouted some nonsense about me being like a brother, it wouldn\'t be right. Shit, if he only knew that\'s what we Weasley brothers did. Fuck each other. Bill. Fred. George. Me. Nothing but brotherly fucking as long as I could remember. Naturally I said nothing. Just stood there all silent and wounded. Like a brainless fuckwad.

I should have thrown myself off of the Astronomy Tower right then and there, but for some reason I didn\'t. Hell, I should have tossed Harry off of the tower. Life Altering Error #1578. Fuck it, who\'s counting anymore, anyway? So, naturally I follow his pompous little arse (he does have a very sweet little arse, you know) right into the bowels of The Ministry of Magic, where I\'m cursed and hexed and attacked by brains, and you\'d think that I was never even there. Harry the Hero. Harry the Brave. Harry the Bottom to Draco Malfoy\'s Top.

That last one never made The Daily Prophet, by the way.

And that\'s how it went from then on. Nothing but Harry, Harry, Harry. Half of the school could have morphed into hinkypunks and no one would have noticed.

I was so fucking confused I actually fooled around with a couple of birds. We all make mistakes, yeah? Granger started hanging around me. It didn\'t surprise me to find out that she had been pining away for Harry all these years. Bloody hung up on him she was. Well, I played the nice guy and told Hermione that her dear Harry buggered blokes. Well, let blokes bugger him to be precise. And that he was screwing Malfoy. I had never seen her speechless before. She was always the insufferable know-it-all. She cried a lot, and I comforted her. Then I fucked her. See? I\'m not such a bad guy. After that, I couldn\'t get rid of her. For some fucking reason, she was in love with me now, or so she said. I was just a poor substitute for Harry. I knew it. I didn\'t care. She let me do anything to her. And she always begged me for more. My little Mud-Blood whore.

No one ever noticed how my OWL\'s were every bit as good as Harry\'s. When I said I wanted to go through Auror Training, nothing. Harry says the same thing and everyone and their house elf is creaming their trousers to help him. My own fucking Mum went on and on about how proud she was of Harry overcoming all those obstacles. Bloody Hell, I wanted to be an Auror, and I had the grades to do it! None of my brothers had gotten those grades. Well, except for Perfect Percy. Do you know how many times I heard about how wonderful it was that Bill was at Gringott\'s? Charlie and the Dragons? Even fucking Percy was at The Ministry, and despite how he shit all over the entire family, Mum still went on about how well he had done for himself. Fred and George had been my last hope. I was certain that I would do better than them. They dropped out of Hogwarts, after all. I was set for success, right?

Wrong. Harry gave them a stack of galleons to start the business, and then Mum prattles on about how proud she is of them, too. I think that\'s the first time I really wanted to strangle the living shit out of her. Fuck, if she only knew about her other wonderful, perfect sons. Bill, married to that French part-Veela skank, raping me as a kid. And molesting his own kids. Fred and George, the successful inventors, fucking each other senseless, running their string of gay brothels. She\'d shit twice and die if she were to find out that not one, not two, or even three of her fine sons were poufs. She always went on about how dirty and filthy it was for blokes to bugger blokes. Still more proof that the universe has a truly perverted sense of humor. Old Molly Prewett Weasley had produced four ass-pounding, cock-sucking, screaming, raving Friends of Dorothy. Faggots. Queers. Homos. Absolutely classic!
Then there was The War. You know, against Voldemort. What a fucking anti-climax. Riddle had screwed himself up completely by splitting his soul into seven parts. After The Order had rounded up and squashed those Horcrux things, all we had to do was root Riddle out and hex him. Of course, I was right there, in the end, standing right beside my mate. Me and Harry and Hermione and Neville, facing Riddle, in all his red-eyed, snake-faced, hissy-voiced glory, waving his arms and conjuring lightning and thunder and fog like a cheap Muggle motion picture. We all just started throwing hexes, and the psycho exploded. Big fucking deal. Of course, I was severely injured. Took six months before I could get out of bed to take a piss.

Work it out. Come on, you can do it. Who got all the credit? Who the fuck do you think? It certainly wasn\'t RBW.

So after Pomfrey restored my innards, I graduated from Hogwarts and started Auror Training. You\'d think I was taking up ditch digging for all the support I got. It was Hell, and I was having trouble keeping up. It started with just Pepper-up, but quickly moved on to stronger stuff. It was the only way I could keep going. Harry was having trouble, too, but he managed to struggle through the program. After all, he was The Fucking Boy Who Lived. He killed Riddle. He could have been in a coma and he would have passed all of his requirements. There were classes that he never attended that he passed with flying colours. I know. I was there, slogging away, barely keeping my head above water. I begged him to help me. He was too busy fucking with Draco.

Malfoy had moved in with him at Grimmauld Place, since Lucius had disowned him when he took up with Harry. I had gone over to Grimmauld one night to get Harry\'s help on a bitch of a Transfiguration essay. I just threw myself at him, and he let me. I was pretty high, but he didn\'t care. After that, whenever Draco was out, Harry and I fucked. He never refused me. He loved it when I would tie him down and make him scream my name. He begged me to hurt him. He pleaded with me to mark him. How could I refuse any request he made of me? I loved him.
My studies suffered even more, and I was doing more and more stuff. One night I ran out, and stumbled over to Snape\'s office for a refill. The door was ajar, and when I went in, there was Snape pounding into Harry, who was trussed and tied up like a Christmas goose. I freaked out, and threw Snape across the room. No one fucked with my Harry like that but me. Harry just shrugged and said, \"Sorry, Ron.\" I made Harry leave, and pushed Snape against the wall. I threatened to go to the Board about the drugs, and abusing his position at the school if he didn\'t agree to supply me with whatever I wanted. He agreed, and then I bound him and fucked him until he bled. He liked it. He begged me for it. He pleaded with me to do more. More than I had ever imagined. Finally, I had found my true calling. Finally, I had found something I was good at. Snape couldn\'t get enough of me. I made him say it. Every time.

I began doing more and more stuff, and between fucking Harry and Snape, I failed nearly all of my requirements. I was kicked out of Auror Training, and politely asked never to return. Harry actually had the balls to invite me to his Graduation. Fuck, it was all I could do to not scratch my eyeballs out whenever I\'d see one of those sodding Daily Prophet headlines plastered everywhere in sight. They even had one blown up to billboard size and mounted it at the entrance to Diagon Alley. \"Boy Who Lived Becomes Auror!\" \"Ministry Welcomes Hero To Ranks!\" Fucking bullshit.

The cherry on that shit cake was that Granger made it, too. So I was the only one of the fucking Trio not to become an Auror. Of course, The Quibbler did a ten part feature entitled \"What Went Wrong With Weasley?\" That fucking skank Lovegood. Nice to know you can always count on your friends, yeah? Naturally, my Mum made a national case out of it, wailing like a banshee and crying about her disappointment and the shame of it all for the Family. She called me a failure and a waste. It was the last straw when she compared me to Harry. I did smack her this time. She sailed halfway across the kitchen.

With nowhere to go, I found myself a small flat in Diagon Alley. I did more and more drugs, and began spending my evenings at Lucius Malfoy\'s new club, Echelon. We came to an arrangement, and I suddenly had a new source of income. Lucius was more than willing to allow me to deal out of the club, as long as he got a cut. Lucius made certain that I had complete access. And I do mean complete. And yes, he\'s a natural blonde. Snape was more than willing to increase his production, as I was to ravage him. And old Severus began concocting killer versions of some Muggle drugs to add to my product line. Life was good. I saw a lot of Harry, too.

One morning, Granger burst into my flat, finding me naked and strung out on the bed in a pool of my own vomit. She cleaned me up, and babbled on about some opportunity she had arranged for me by virtue of her position at the Ministry. We were already at Hogwarts, seated in Sprout\'s office before I realized I was being offered a job. The old bag was retiring at the end of the year, and somehow Hermione had managed to make sure I was the only applicant. Dumblefuck had apparently signed-off on the entire project, and the next thing I knew Sprout shoved a Training Schedule into my shaky hands and waddled out the door. Granger was beaming at me with tears in her eyes, so naturally I fucked her senseless when we got back to my flat.
I proposed to her a week later, and my slag of a Mum actually came to visit me and tell me how happy she was for us. Relieved, more like. Then Granger decided she wanted to move in with me, so I let her. Why not? Easier to screw her that way. And she came in handy, too. A lot of my clients from Echelon needed to be wined and dined before signing on. I brought dozens of them home with me, and Hermione was the perfect little slave, serving delectable little dinners while my prospects sampled my products. Then, I\'d let them have their way with her, sometimes three at a time. She always performed beautifully. I loved watching her. Too bad I didn\'t love her.

One evening as I was stopping by to pick up another shipment from Snape, I caught him fucking Harry again. It turned out they never stopped. I am a fucking idiot, remember? After I gave Harry a black eye and sent him home, I screwed and whipped and cut Snape so hard he cried like a baby skrewt. I went wild, and the more I beat him, the more he loved it. Snape promised to break it off with Harry. Yeah, right. As I was leaving, I took a vial of Love Potion. I had decided to pay a visit to Potter\'s other half. I was going to teach The Boy Who Lived a little lesson. I waited until the following afternoon, when I knew that Harry would be with Snape.

Busting down the back door at Grimmauld, I stunned Malfoy in an instant. Pouring the vial down his throat, I waited a moment before reviving him. Needless to say, we shagged for about two hours, well after the potion had worn off. It turned out that Malfoy had always had a thing for red hair. Who knew? After that, the little ferret was pounding on my door almost as much as I was pounding on him. But he didn\'t get into the slave stuff. You know, that superior Malfoy bullshit. Whatever. He was too sweet to argue with. I let him have his way with me. Too bad I hadn\'t fallen for Draco instead. I might have been happy in Slytherin. Things might have been different.

Everything was finally going smoothly. Lucius and Snape were happy with their share of the profits from our little enterprise. I was even managing to put it to Granger on a regular basis. I deserved an award for best actor.

Training with Sprout was a complete nightmare. I hated Herbology. Every minute I spent in those greenhouses was sheer hell. I began popping pills in between classes just to get through it. I didn\'t remember much of it. Business at Echelon was picking up. I had even accumulated a few Muggle dealers. There was this one little slag, a short, plump, plain little bitch. Lorelei. She was a good pusher. Unfortunately, she sampled her wares, and OD\'d one night in the alley behind the club. Turns out that that squib, Longbottom, was screwing her. Neville was always so fucking naive. He was totally fooled by her. She looked sweet and innocent, but I saw how she operated when she was at Echelon. Ruthless cunt, what she was. She would be smiling sweetly at you one minute, and have a knife at your throat the next. She told me how she was using Neville so that she could get back on her feet. Lorelei wasn\'t even her real name. I remember how she laughed so hard she could barely breathe when she\'d imitate Longbottom as they were shagging. I liked Lorelei, but not enough to fuck her. She just couldn\'t keep her nose away from the blow.

Leadbottom\'s roommate, Zabini, blew into Echelon one night, giving me the business over the whole affair. He got all holier-than-thou on me. Right. I\'d seen him trolling around the club on a regular basis. He favored the next to last stall in the loo for his liaisons. Classy. I rearranged his face for him, and dumped him head first in a rubbish container. Arrogant prick.

The way he fucked around, Zabini made me look like a Muggle Nun. I think he liked having the shit kicked out of him. The first time that I pummeled him senseless was when I walked in on him pounding my Mum in the ass in the pantry at Grimmauld Place. It was at one of the few parties that The Order threw that was actually enjoyable. At first I was totally gobsmacked. But then the sight of the old bitch moaning and groaning and screaming his name to fuck her harder started to turn me on. I did wait until Zabini finished with her before I wiped up the floor with him. You know, on principle alone. I had to at least pretend to be the good son. The old bag just pulled up her skirt and blew by me like I wasn\'t even there. Fucking slag. Then Zabini had the balls to proposition me right then and there. I took him up on it the next day. It seems my reputation had preceded me. Zabini wanted it rough, and requested some of my specialties that I had reserved solely for Snape. The black bastard loved it. Kept coming back for more. What can I say? I was good, and took pride in my work. It was the first time in my life that people really appreciated me.

He\'d actually ignore me when we crossed paths outside of Echelon. Zabini about shit himself when I saw him with Malfoy at The Leaky Cauldron that first time. Malfoy merely grinned while Zabini got all pasty and sputtered some bullshit about having lunch. I fucked them both that day. Yeah, I should have been a Slytherin.

At this point, little Draco developed a conscience. Zabini told him everything about Longbottom\'s expired bird. Draco tried to break it off with me. After a few punches to his gut, Malfoy saw my point of view. Plus, the fact that if Harry found out that Draco was buggering me and that cunt, Zabini. The Boy Who Lived would kick the ferret out on his penniless arse. Some people just need constant reminders as to who\'s in charge. In celebration of our new agreement, I fucked Draco while I carved my name into his stomach with a kitchen knife. No Numbing Spells, of course. Oh, but I healed it before I left. What kind of Weasley do you think I am?

My good mood evaporated immediately when I found my Mum waiting for me at my flat. She began shrieking at me about how she knew I was a drug dealer and responsible for Lorelei\'s death. She had used a glamour to follow me around the club for over a week. She told me that she also knew about Harry. She threatened me with going to Hermione unless I told her myself. It was pointless trying to reason with her. Popping a few speeders, I backhanded her across the room, and proceeded to slap her silly. I then tossed her out into the street, slamming the door. The next day, Granger burst in, eyes puffy with tears, screeching about how the engagement was off.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

She was wailing about being embarrassed and betrayed or some such bullshit when I punched her and shoved her out into the back alley. Without opening the door first.

I really had to find a different place to live. The next morning, an owl dropped a message on my windowsill. Longbottom wanted to talk to me about Lorelei. He said he didn\'t blame me any more for what she did to herself, and wanted to talk about it later that night. So, I met him down in the common room of the Cauldron. I had just done a shitload of E, and it was starting to hit when I sat down. The nervous little twat had already ordered me a coffee. I hate fucking coffee. When I made to order a triple firewhiskey instead, dipshit freaked out about it. So I drank most of the coffee and threw the rest in his face. I was jamming pretty good by this point, and even though Neville\'s lips were moving, all I heard was buzz buzz buzz. I gave him the finger, and stumbled out into the alley. I was on my way to Echelon when it happened.

So.

That\'s about it. The whole sordid little story. Now, don\'t get the wrong idea. I\'m not trying to justify my actions or explain away anything that I did. We all have choices, and I made mine. I was a nasty motherfucker, and if I had the chance to do it all again, I probably would.

Well, except for one thing. If I could, I would go back to the end of third year and tell Harry right then and there that I loved him. And I would have. I would have loved him. With every bit of my heart. I\'d have loved him with every last shred, every last molecule of my miserable, doomed soul.

Yeah, that\'s the only thing I\'d change. Would that have been enough?
Is anything ever enough?

Is anyone really, truly innocent?

Fuck.

Sodding nonsense, mooning over shit that\'s all said and done. Too late for that bullshit now, yeah?

Yeah.

Way too fucking late.

I suppose you want to know who did it, then? Who it was that killed me, right?

That\'s the only reason you\'re here. To satisfy your fucking morbid curiosity, yes?

Oh, yeah, where the fuck were you all these years? When I was belittled, ignored, marginalized? Where?

You didn\'t give two shits about poor old Ron when I was alive, but now that I\'m dead, here you are, circling like fucking vultures.

Pathetic.

Fine.

Inquiring little minds want to know.

Here goes. Here\'s who killed me. Here\'s who killed Ron Weasley…
ALL OF YOU!

Fuck all of you who ignored me for all of my fucking miserable, unhappy life.

Every single one of you killed me, a little at a time, bit by bit, finally finishing the job in the alley.

Fuck You.

Fuck you all. I hope all of you burn in Hell.

I\'ll see you there.

And if anyone else\'s little story differs from mine, they\'re lying. I\'ve told you exactly what happened.

Why would I lie?

Back to the Great Beyond, fuckheads.....

There was a pronounced whoosh of air. The fire blazed high in the hearth, and the lights snapped up to full. The suspects blinked at each other. Most were pale. Even Lucius had moved from his corner during Ron\'s tirade and was standing next to Basher. Smith\'s mouth was agape. Creevey\'s eyes were locked on Basher. The office door clicked and swung open, and the two Aurors from the hallway entered the room. They stood at a stiff attention, awaiting orders.

Basher broke the silence. \"I believe I now have the necessary information needed to complete my investigation. Thank you all for your cooperation.\" She motioned to her associates. \"Zacharias, please escort them back to their cells.\"

As the suspects filed out of Scrimgeour\'s office, Basher smiled down on Trelawney, who was busily wrapping up the crystal.

\"Thank you,Professor. Most enlightening. Most enlightening, indeed.\" She smiled knowingly at Creevey, who nodded in response.