Chapter 3: A Call For Help

It took an eternity for Ron to find his voice again.

"Er... please," he said at last, "have a seat..."

Inside he had to cringe; it seemed so trivial a thing to offer to someone who was going through this horrific an ordeal, but Ron didn't quite know what else to say or do. Viktor seemed grateful nevertheless, and gave him a weary smile as he sank down onto the chair. The tension was palpable, as neither man seemed to be all that comfortable in the other's presence.

"Thank you," Viktor said, and Ron nodded back in acknowledgement.

Funny, he thought. Twenty years ago, he never would have imagined that he would one day be wracking his brain to come up with something to bring solace to Viktor Krum, of all people. But all that had happened then--all the confusion that budding love could bring, and the stupid jealousies it could inspire in a fifteen-year old boy--seemed so utterly petty and inconsequential now. All of it had quickly faded into the distant past within the last few minutes, as he saw the pure grief etched on the other man's face.

Welby cleared his throat awkwardly; Ron had forgotten he was in the room.

"Well... I see I don't have to introduce you two to each other."

"No, sir," Ron told him. "We, er... have met before. Many years ago..."

"Yes, well... perhaps I should leave you two alone for this then," Welby said. "And Mr. Krum..."

Viktor raised his head to look at the Minister of Magic.

"I'm very sorry for what's happened... But I assure you, Mr. Weasley here is the best there is. He'll find your son, I'm sure of it."

"I know," Viktor said softly. "That is vhy I asked that he be the one to help me."

Welby offered up a sympathetic smile. "Right then... I'll be off now. Weasley, whatever arrangements need to be made, you have carte blanche."

Ron nodded, then felt Viktor's gaze travel towards him. For the second time today, he was at a loss for the proper words to say. This shouldn't be so damn hard, he thought. And yet, it was. How could it not be, when he was a parent himself.

Viktor had reclaimed his son's wand, which Ron had left on his desk moments earlier after Viktor had walked in. He was so quiet as he looked at it, cradling it in his hands with a kind of quiet reverence, and Ron wondered if he was even breathing. He just sat there, stone-faced, as if building a wall around himself would be the only way to keep the realization from truly setting in.

"Ve bought this for him just last month," he said, "my vife and I... Svetlana was so vorried about him going avay to school... She is--how do you say... er... not vizard..."

"A Muggle?"

He nodded.

"But she knew Slava vas talented. He had much magic in him. She vanted, like I did, to see him succeed..." He paused, then drew a long, heavy breath. He reached a hand inside his robes and pulled out a small photograph, handing it over to Ron.

It was of a small boy, no more than six years old, riding a toy broom and waving as he laughed heartily. The broom did not rise far from the ground--toy brooms for children of that age never did--but the look of pure joy on his face was unmistakable.

"It's the only one I haff vith me right now," Viktor said. "It's from a long time ago, but he still looks much the same... Vill it... be all right?''

"Yes," Ron said, looking at it for a few more moments, then finally tucking it into a folder. "It should be fine."

"Good."

Viktor looked away, to nothing in particular outside Ron's window. Silence fell on them again, and Ron hesitated at first before speaking, but knew this had to be done.

"Viktor," he said, "can you tell me what happened?"

It was a while before he answered. "I... do not really know," he said. "He had left for Durmstrang last week... Ve received an owl from him two days later, and everything seemed in order..."

"And... then..."

"And then... a few days ago, the headmistress, Professor Milka, sent us an owl... She said it vas very urgent and that ve must go to school right avay..."

"When was this?"

"Three days ago. Vhen ve got there, she told us that Slava had not gone to his classes that day, and the last time anyone had seen him was at dinner the previous night... They searched the entire grounds but could not find him, and..." It seemed as if his voice were close to breaking, and he stopped short, obviously attempting to compose himself. "That's vhen they found his vand in the forest... They suspected it must have been the vork of a dark vizard, and that is why I thought of you... I had heard about you and how you and Harry Potter had defeated the dark lord... I knew you could find my son."

Ron watched him look down again at the wand in his hands. It seemed so strange to see him like this, the great Viktor Krum, superstar Quidditch hero, broken and defeated and... scared.

He couldn't blame him one bit.

"I... I have a son too," Ron said. He knew it was silly, but perhaps Viktor could find even the tiniest bit of comfort in knowing that Ron understood in some small way. "Jack. He started at Hogwarts this year, in fact."

Viktor smiled, though he was still staring out the window. "He is happy there?"

"He seems to be, yes," Ron said. "I think he's a bit overwhelmed at the newness of it all, but I think he's enjoying himself."

In time, Viktor turned his head and looked back at Ron.

"You must find him, Veasley," he said. His voice seemed more resolute than before, having gathered strength from some unknown source. "Please. You can't let anything happen to my son..."

Ron nodded.

"I will," he said. "You have my word."

"Hermione..."

Ron stepped out the fireplace and shook off ash and excess floo powder from his shoulders and hair. He really needed to find some time to renew his apparating license, he thought with annoyance; apparating was far less troublesome than bloody floo powder, and he didn't know how much more of this popping in and out of fireplaces he could stand.

No one seemed to be around downstairs, but then again, it was late--after nine o'clock--and Hermione was probably putting the girls to bed, if the lack of chaos and noise was any indication.

"Hermione, you up here?" he called out, as he came up the stairs. "I have to tell you something-"

The door to Elinor's room was slightly ajar, but it was not Hermione who emerged from the room.

"Shh!!"

Ron nearly tumbled off the top step. "Mum!!"

Molly Weasley did not seem too pleased as she closed the door behind her. "The girls are finally asleep... It took me nearly forty-five minutes to get the baby to close her eyes..."

"Yeah," Ron said, smiling, "she likes for me to sing her a lullabye first..."

Mrs. Weasley scowled. "Well you very nearly unraveled all my fine work by screaming like a mad-man when you came in!"

"I was not screaming like a mad-man, Mum." Ron said rolled his eyes. "What are you still doing here, anyway? Hermione should have been back ages ago..."

Ron knew as soon as he said the words that he had probably chosen the worst possible way to say what he did.

"Hmph!" she huffed. "I'm so glad to know my son is thankful for me helping out with his children..."

"Oh Mum, come on, you know that's not what I meant-"

"At least your wife appreciates what I do around here..."

Ron groaned. "Oh come on, Mum, you know I do too!" He tried to touch her arm, but she brushed past him and began to climb down the stairs. Ron followed her closely.

"Hermione said she was called into a meeting that would be running late," she said, avoiding his eyes. "She asked me to stay a bit longer, until you got home. I checked the clock just a little while ago, and it said, on her way, so she should be here any minute now."

"Mum... Mum, come on, please look at me..." He sighed. "I'm sorry, all right? I really am... I guess I'm just a bit on edge tonight. I have to talk to Hermione about something important."

She turned around to face him, and with a skill that only a true parent could hone, she switched seamlessly from reproach to concern in the blink of an eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

She narrowed her eyes, as if scrutinizing him. "Don't lie to me. A mother knows, you know."

He swallowed a laugh. "Mum, I swear.... We're all fine, trust me."

"Then what's this important thing you have to talk to Hermione about?"

"Well, I guess I should tell you too, since we do have to ask a big favor..."

"Oh?"

"Hermione's going on an important conference in a few days, and I was supposed to stay home with the girls, but I've just been handed an urgent assignment."

The smallest of gasps tore from her lips. "Is it... It's not dangerous, is it, Ron?"

"I'll be fine."

In truth, all of his assignments were dangerous; that was simply the nature of his work. But he also didn't think this would be the right time to remind her of that.

"I've got to leave in the morning, though, and I don't know that I'll be back before Hermione has to leave..."

"Of course we'll take the girls!"

He blinked back and smiled. "I didn't even ask-"

"Well, you were going to, weren't you?"

"Well... yes," he said.

"Hmm, I thought so," she said. "And you know you don't even have to ask twice. You know how much your father and I love having them at The Burrow. Gives us a chance to spoil them rotten."

"Mum..."

"Don't Mum me, I'm a grandmother. It's my God-given right to spoil my grandchildren."

He laughed. "Thanks, Mum, you really are the best."

"Mmm hmm, a little late for gratitude, but I suppose it will do." She squinted at him, then reach up a hand to touch his hair. "What's this... Oh Ron, you've got ash in your hair!"

"Mum, you don't have to-"

"Hold still! I can't get it out if you keep moving-"

He heard rustling downstairs. "She's home..." He wriggled out of her reach and ran the rest of the way down the stairs. "Hermione..."

"Hi!" She stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss. "Are the girls asleep already?"

"Just now."

"Well, I'll go sneak upstairs and kiss them goodnight, anyway..."

"Wait, I need to talk to you-"

Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs. "Oh good, you're home," she said. "Well, I'll be off then!"

"Thanks again, Molly, you're a lifesaver," Hermione said, kissing Mrs. Weasley on the cheek.

"You're welcome, dear..." She turned to Ron. "So you'll drop the girls off early in the morning then? I think you're running low on floo powder, dear--perhaps you'd better let Hermione apparate ahead and then bring the girls with you..."

Hermione threw Ron a bewildered look. "What's she talking about..."

"All right, Mum... Thanks again..."

"Ron, what's she-"

Mrs. Weasley stepped into the fireplace, and with a quick, "The Burrow!" she was gone.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"What was that all about? Why are we dropping the girls off at The Burrow?"

He placed his hand at the back of his neck and began to rub at it. "Er... well that's what I wanted to talk to you about..."

"All right, I'm listening."

"Welby came by to see me this morning," he said.

"Oh." She sat down on the couch. "But he never comes to see you unless it's... really important..."

He nodded.

She looked down; Ron knew she knew what was coming. They had not had to have this conversation in a long while. Since Voldemort's fall, there had not been too much dark wizard activity, and Ron had had the luxury of getting to spend most of the last eleven years in relative calm. Except for occasional assignments--most of which had been somewhere on the British Isles--most of his job had entailed Auror training at the Ministry.

He knew Hermione had long breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was safe most of the time.

"Where are they sending you this time?" she said at last.

"Bulgaria."

Her eyes widened. "Bulgaria? Why would... Couldn't the Bulgarian Ministry find someone there-"

He shook his head before she could finish her sentence. "I was requested personally," he said softly. "I'm sorry, love. I have to do this."

"Well I guess I can't blame them for wanting the best for the job," she said, giving him a small smile. He knew how hard it must have been for her to do that.

"Especially for this one," he said. "It's so important that I do this right."

"What is it? Or... can you not talk about it?"

"No, I can give you some high-level information," he said. "A child's gone missing from Durmstrang."

"Durmstrang! Oh no..."

"You'll never guess who it is, either."

She looked at him in curiosity.

"Viktor Krum's son."

"Viktor... Oh my goodness... Poor Viktor, no wonder he wanted someone good to investigate..."

Ron got up and ran a hand through his hair. "You should have seen him, Hermione," he said. "He was a wreck. A complete wreck. Not that I wouldn't be as well, in his shoes..."

After a long time, Hermione finally got up and walked over to Ron, then slid her arms around his waist and kissed him. "I know you won't let him down," she said. She pulled away and started to walk towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"To send Jack an owl," she said. "And to kiss the girls good night. Suddenly, I just... I just felt like I should..."

Ron smiled and watched her disappear upstairs.