Ron Weasley (weasley_un4seen) wrote in unforeseen_rpg, @ 2007-09-20 10:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | anthony, hogwarts, ron |
When all is said and done.
Who: Ron Weasley, Anthony Goldstein, Madame Pomfrey
Where: Infirmary, Hogwarts
When: May 22nd, late night
What: Ron wakes up, but it's a bit disoriented. And upset.
Notes: Ron has a potty mouth and does not act his age. Fair warning.
Status: Complete
When Ron opened his eyes the first time, the sudden brightness forced him to shut them close again. An instant headache did not help any and his chest felt too tight to even take a proper breath, but breathing he was. He couldn't really tell where he was, not even by sound, since there was something wrong with his ears. He waited a few moments before he tried to open his eyes again, and he blinked, trying to moisten his eyes which felt too dry. He slowly forced himself to sit up, wincing as everything seemed to ache, for no obvious reason he could remember.
Anthony was in a corner, his wand out, a long, sing-song spell flowing from his mouth as the patient's chest was enveloped in a warm, baby blue light. He stopped, panting softly, as the patient smiled.
Panting, he reached out and undid their yellow ribbon, and stumbled off towards the next patient.
He saw Ron sitting up, and he straightened, tripping over himself in his effort to get to him quickly.
"Ron." he said, breathing heavily. "Don't try and get out of bed. You're in a pressurized chamber."
Ron blinked again, stopping, but still not registering what the familiar boy in front of him said.
"What?"
His voice was hoarse and he coughed, wincing as it gave him more of a headache. Clearing his throat best he could, he tried again. "I'm where?" He looked around him, but he didn't see anything obvious.
Anthony shook his head. "Don't speak. You inhaled a lot of smoke. I've put you in a pressurized bubble to clear your system out quickly. Another few minutes in there, and I'll take you out for observation.
Ron nodded, feeling dizzy at doing that much. He almost leaned back to lie still again, when the last thing he remembered filtered through. "Inferi! They're in the castle." He coughed, as his throat seemed to close in on him for even speaking that much.
Anthony hissed. "I said, don't speak!" He knelt by Ron's cot. "The Hospital Wing is safe. The Slytherin dorm has been cleared out, and we've sent for reinforcements."
Ron shook his head, coughing a few more times. "Where's 'arry?"
"I don't know." Anthony said. "I haven't seen him." he said, looking around the Hospital Wing - might as well double check. "And I haven't heard anybody talking about him, so he's probably fine."
He closed his eyes, hoping that his friend was alright. Somewhere. Opening them again, he looked at the boy next to him. "How did I get here?"
Anthony blushed a little bit, and looked down at the ground. "A particularly unhappy looking House elf dumped you over there." he said, nodding at an area on the floor about fifteen feet away.
Ron snorted, shaking his head. "That would be Kreacher. Barmy elf." He bit his lip again as he realized that he couldn't remember the boy's name, though he was part of the DA with them. He hoped it would come to him sooner or later, instead of having to ask. "Am I alright now to leave?" he asked instead, hating to hear his voice sound like it did, but having no other choice.
Anthony shook his head. "You shouldn't even be talking!" he said, standing up ."You need to rest - I'll take you out of the pressure in a few minutes, but I'll want to keep you under observation. Make sure there wasn't any more serious damage.
Ron shook his head again. "There's no time! Has anyone checked Hufflepuff? The Library? These things could be anywhere by now!"
Anthony bit his lip, looking worried at Ron. "Please, Ron. Enough - please stop talking. You can damage your lungs."
Ron glared. "My lungs will be the least of anyone's worry if these things keep killing. Where's my wand?"
Anthony shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't take it - if it's not on you, I don't know where it is." he said, drawing his own wand and puncturing the bubble of pressurized air, letting it out slowly, then vanishing it.
Soon as Ron felt is safe to move, he reached over to grip the boy's hand. "I need to get out of here. I'm not much use to anyone here. I'm not in danger anymore, yeah?"
Anthony blushed immediately, and looked downwards, shaking himself out of it. "No, no, it's not." he said, quietly. "You've gotta lie down - your lungs need to readjust." he said
Ron sighed and said, "Look...Anthony? Is that your name?"
Anthony nodded. "Yes, it is." he said, a little shiver running up his spine.
Ron nodded, and tried to throw his legs over the bed, making a move to get up. "Anthony, you and I both know that this, today, was not normal. How many more of us are going to die before this war is over? As long as I can walk, and have my wand, I'm not fit to be here."
Anthony pressed his hands against Ron's shoulders. "And I have an obligation to do no harm. I can't let you kill yourself, no matter how much you might want to." he said, "You might not have your wand, but I have mine. Lie down." he said, his voice authoritative.
Ron would have gotten another word in, but he started to cough, as his throat closed up again. When he was done, he banged his hand against the cot and glared.
Anthony growled softly. "I don't want to have to intubate you, but I will if I have to."
"You can't stop me," he threatened, but without his wand, was practically defenceless and lying.
Anthony pulled a metal laryngoscope and hefted it from hand to hand. "Don't tempt me." he said.
'You can't keep me here, dammit," he argued, and forced himself not to cough.
Anthony shook his head. "Come on Ron. I don't have time to argue. You've got to stay here - for your own health. Besides, what can you do without your wand?"
"I managed quite well without one, thanks," he mocked and settled for glaring again.
Anthony turned, shaking his head a little bit and blushing a little bit. "Ron, Ron, Ron." he muttered to himself.
Ron watched him. "I can fight. You know I can. Let me go."
Anthony had moved to the next cot, and was checking the Slytherin's wounds. "You can't. I won't let you."
"Then how long do you intend to keep me prisoner here?" he called after him, feeling his temper right on the edge.
Anthony turned. "Until your lungs have had time to heal. A few hours of silence, and then overnight for observation."
Ron finally stood up, not caring if he was stopped or not. "That's bloody madness! Everyone could be dead by then! I can fight, for as long as I need to, even if they kill me."
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Madame Pomfrey!" he called, and she waddled over. "What is it Anthony?"
"Can you go deal with Mr. Weasley if the red's are stable?"
She nodded, and walked over to Ron. "What is the problem Mister Weasley?" she asked, her voice icy cold.
"I need to get out of here, right now"
"Hypoxia." Anthony muttered to Madame Pomfrey, as he examined the slashed chest of the Slytherin.
She tut-tutted. "You're going nowhere Mr. Weasley. Lie down and act your age."
Ron turned around and yelled, loud as he could, even if he lost his voice, kicking the cot he'd been laying in, frustrated.
Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes and walked off to her patients.
Anthony on the other hand, winced and turned to Ron. "Ron..." he said, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it a bit, pulling out his wand.
Ron glared at him. "What do you want? Knock me out? Gag me? What?"
Anthony rolled his eyes. "I will use perfectus totalus on you." he threatened, half-heartedly.
Ron reached for his hand with the wand and pointed it at his chest. "Do it, then. You're threatening me, then you better be good on your word."
Anthony bit his lip. "P... silencio." he cast. "Enough. No more. Rest your voice."
Ron grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at him. "You're making a big mistake," he mouthed, letting go of him and going back to the cot, lying down away from him, knowing he would not be able to sleep until he knew if his friends were alright.
Anthony bit his lip, and shook his head. It needed to be done, he thought to himself, turning to the Slytherin and beginning to heal the punctured lung.
He wished Hermione were there. At least if she made him not talk or stay there, she would at least make it sound less terrible. He hated being there, could understand why Harry had always hated it. Of course, thinking about Harry made him worry for him, but short of risking being knocked out, he couldn't very well leave to look for him.