Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“Mrs. Weasley asked you to tidy up your room, Ron, and you’re just lying here?” Hermione asked with a frown, clearly displeased with the messy room.

“I’ve been so exhausted lately, I just want to sleep. Besides, why should I listen to her about cleaning the room? Bill isn’t even getting married here. My mum just meddles too much — I’m really getting a bit sick of it,” Ron muttered discontentedly. “By the way, why did only you lot come up? Where’s Harry?”

“Probably with Ginny in the little grove in the garden. Let’s have Hedwig tell him to come up,” said Evan. He went to the table, scribbled a note, and tied it to Hedwig’s leg. He released the owl out the open window and sat down on his cot. “Speaking of Mrs. Weasley, Ron, we need to talk about our plans after the wedding. By then, we’ll be leaving the Burrow and won’t be going back to Hogwarts. Have you thought about how you’re going to tell your mum?”

“Of course I have — I’ve already got a plan. Want to see it?”

Ron seemed interested. He climbed out of bed and led the others onto the tiny landing.

“Descendo,” muttered Ron, pointing his wand at the low ceiling.

A hatch opened right over their heads and a ladder slid down to their 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?” asked Evan.

He knew Ron’s family had a ghoul; it had always lived in the attic of the Burrow, banging on the pipes and groaning whenever the house got too quiet.

Ghouls were ancient magical creatures, said to have originated in ancient Arabia. They were shapeshifting demons that dwelled in the desert and could transform into animals. They raided graves, feasting on the flesh and blood of the dead, including children, and even lured travelers into the desert wastelands to kill and devour them.

However, in Europe, these magical creatures had become fully indigenous and were far less terrifying than their Arabian ancestors.

According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, British ghouls, while ugly, were not particularly dangerous.

They were cruel and somewhat treacherous, resembling fanged man-eating trolls. They typically lived in the attics or barns of Wizarding homes, feeding on spiders and moths. They groaned constantly and occasionally threw things, but they were generally simple-minded, howling and frightening anyone who happened to stumble upon them. In Wizarding families, ghouls were a frequent topic of conversation and even became family pets.

“Yeah, it is,” said Ron, climbing the ladder. “Come and have a look at him, I quite like this creature.”

He reached out and roughly dragged a humanoid form from the attic.

Gabrielle let out a low cry at the sudden sight of the creature and hid behind Evan, staring at it in fear.

Hermione and Elaine also stared in surprise at the ghoul in Ron’s hands. It struggled violently in his grasp, making strange noises.

“Quiet!” Ron shouted, swung his arm and threw the ghoul onto the ladder, knocking it unconscious. Only then did it quiet down.

“Ron, is that really a ghoul?”

“Ghouls don’t usually look like this, do they? Do ghouls normally wear pajamas?”

“No,” said Ron. “Nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules. This one’s my masterpiece.”

Honestly, the creature looked rather disgusting. It was the shape and size of a human child, but it was wearing what was clearly an old pair of Ron’s pajamas. Furthermore, it had hair, sticky, thick red hair, and was covered in angry purple blisters.

“He’s me, see?” said Ron smugly.

“Not really!”

“You’re abusing it, Ron,” said Hermione with a frown. “What did you do to it? Why does it have so many blisters?”

“Just a bit of Bubotuber pus and a spell to make it more obedient, nothing much,” said Ron, shaking the ghoul in his hand. The pungent, foul smell hit them, and Evan, Hermione, Elaine, and Gabrielle all took a few steps back.

“All right, put it back, Ron — I understand now. You’re planning to use it to impersonate you when we leave.”

“Yeah, brilliant, isn’t it?” Ron threw the ghoul in his hand back to the attic and jumped down the ladder. “Once we’ve left, the ghoul’s going to come and live down here in my room,” said Ron. “I think he’s really looking forward to it — well, it’s hard to tell, because all he can do is moan and drool — but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he’s going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?”

There was a moment of silence. Ron seemed disappointed at everyone’s reaction and shouted, “This plan is brilliant, isn’t it?”

“You mean to fool your mum with it?” Hermione couldn’t help asking.

“It’s not just my mum,” Ron said. “Look, like Evan just said, when we don’t turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone’s going to think 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 — Evan or Harry — are.

“We can’t just hide my whole family; it’ll look too fishy and they can’t all leave their jobs,” said Ron. “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 go near him. It won’t matter that he can’t say anything, either, because apparently you can’t once the fungus has spread to your uvula.”

Well, the plan still had plenty of flaws, but it was at least an excuse.

If Voldemort weren’t so hell-bent on killing every wizard connected with Evan and Harry, this explanation might just about hold up. The Weasleys couldn’t leave, like the Masons and the Grangers, nor could they vanish into the underground world like Caresius. Once Voldemort overthrew the Ministry, they would be the first to bear the brunt.

Therefore, they needed a protective measure and an open excuse.

Of course, the excuse worked just as well for the Ministry as it stood now — that was the main point of Ron’s plan.

“Ron, do your parents know about this plan?” Hermione asked again.

“They didn’t at first. When I was trying to figure out how to dress up this ghoul, Dad found out and helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum … well, you’ve seen what she’s like. She won’t accept we’re going till we’ve gone.”

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