Ronald Weasley's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

The right path had saved them, but now it carried them somewhere Ron didn't know. The ferns thinned into strange, twisted trees. No trail marker looked familiar. Ron stopped and turned to Draco, the Slytherin boy who had thrown away his own safety to guide him. Draco had said the patrols knew their game. That still gnawed at Ron. "You said they set that trap for you," Ron whispered. "How? How did they know you'd bring me this way?" Draco's mouth tightened. He wouldn't meet Ron's eyes. "Because I told my father I'd be in the forest tonight. Before I knew you'd be here." He swallowed. "I lied to him about why. He didn't believe me." Ron stared. "So he's hunting you too. His own son." "He wants me back on his side." Draco's voice cracked. "Or gone. Either way, he'll use you to get me." Ron's chest went cold. Every safe route Draco knew was compromised now. The Death Eaters had learned to think like them. "Then your maps are useless," Ron said. "We can't trust any path you know." "I know." Draco looked lost for the first time. "I don't know where this trail goes. I've never walked it." Pigwidgeon lifted off Ron's shoulder. The tiny owl darted ahead, then circled back, hooting low. Ron watched him. His father had taught him that owls found home by instinct. "He knows the castle," Ron said. "He flies there every day." Draco frowned. "You want to follow a bird?" "I want to follow something they can't predict." Ron held out his arm. Pigwidgeon landed, then took off again, tugging toward a gap between two leaning trees. "They planned for your routes. They didn't plan for him." Draco hesitated. Then he nodded. "Fine. But if he leads us into a patrol, we run." They followed the owl. He flew low and slow, waiting when they fell behind. The twisted trees gave way to taller pines Ron half remembered. Through a break in the branches, he saw it—the castle, its towers black against the sky, still standing. Windows glowed. The attack hadn't broken it yet. "There," Ron breathed. "We're close." Draco stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. "Ron. When we reach it, they'll be watching the doors. All of them." His grip tightened. "My father knows every entrance the students use." Ron looked at the castle. Relief drained out of him. Getting near wasn't the same as getting in. "Then we need a way inside that no student uses," he said. "One even your father forgot." Draco went still. Something moved behind his eyes. "There's one," he said slowly. "But you won't like it." Ron met his gaze. They had found the castle. Now they had to breach it, and the only door left was one Draco feared.