The Last Goodbye

"I- Hermione, I'm sorry- I didn't-" Harry started.

"Didn't realise that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you've done." Hermione said.

"Nah, he's just eaten." Ron said.

"Go on, he needs to know!" Hermione demanded.

"Oh, all right, Harry, Hayley, come here." Ron said. For the second time, Ron withdrew his arm from around Hermione and stumped over to the door.

"C'mon." Ron said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Descendo." Ron muttered, pointing his wand at the low ceiling. A hatch opened right over their heads and a ladder slid down to our feet. A horrible half-sucking, half-moaning sound came out of the square hole, along with an unpleasant smell like open drains.

"That's your ghoul, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah, it is." Ron said, climbing the ladder. "Come and have a look at him." We followed Ron up the few short steps into the tiny attic space. My head and shoulders were in the room before I caught sight of the creature curled up a few feet from me, fast asleep in the gloom with its large mouth wide open.

"But it... it looks... Do ghouls normally wear pyjamas?" Harry asked.

"No." Ron said. "Nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules."

I contemplated the thing, slightly revolted, slightly impressed. It was human in shape and size, and wearing what, now that my eyes because used to the darkness, was clearly an old pair of Ron's pyjamas. I was also sure that ghouls were generally slimy and bald, rather than distinctly hairy and covered in angry purple blisters.

"He's me, see?" Ron said.

"No." I said. "I don't."

"I'll explain it back in my room, the smell's getting to me." Ron said.

We climbed back down the ladder, which Ron returned to the ceiling and rejoined Hermione, who was still sorting books.

"Once we've left, the ghoul's going to come and live down here in my room. I think he's really looking forward to it- well it's hard to tell, because all he can do it moan and drool- but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he's going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?" We stared at him in confusion. "It is! Look, when we three don't turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone's going to think Hermione and I must be with you, right? Which means the death eaters will go straight for our families to see if they've got information on where you are."

"But hopefully it'll look like I've gone away with Mum and Dad, a lot of Muggle-borns are talking about going into hiding at the moment." Hermione said.

"We can't hide my whole family, it'll look too fishy and they can't all leave their jobs." Ron said. "So we're going to put out the story that I'm seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can't go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules. Spattergroit's really contagious, so they're not going to want to get near him. It won't matter that he can't say anything either, because apparently you can't once the fungus has spread into your uvula."

"And your mum and dad are in on this plan?" I asked.

"Dad is. He helped Fred and George tranform the ghoul. Mum... well, you've seen what she's like. She won't accept we're going until we've gone." Ron said. There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds, as Hermione continued to throw books on to one pile or the other, Ron sat watching her, Harry looked from one to the other, unable to say anything.

"That's brilliant!" I said. Ron grinned proudly.