Looking through the eyepiece she saw Evan. She opened the door, dragged him in and then gave him a tight hug. Ron's ears began turning red. "So, this is the famous Evan" he sneered. "RON!" Hermione and Ginny admonished. "Ahh. Red hair and quick temper. You must be Ron Weasley." Evan replied. He stuck his hand out in offer of a hand shake. Ron looked at Evan's hand with a sneer on his face, but didn't shake it. Evan nodded in understanding. Then turned to Neville, offering his hand. "You must be Neville. Hermione has written to me about you, all of you, in fact." Shaking Neville's hand. Turning to Ginny and offering his hand. "You must be Ginny, based on your red hair. Evan Fenix" He said, shaking her hand. "Moon-like hair. You must be Luna. Evan Fenix." He said, shaking her hand.
"How do you spell your last name, Evan?" Luna asked. "I feel as if I know you." She continued. "Well, I get that sometimes. My last name is spelled ' X'. It originates from the Fenwick family in Northumberland, Yorkshire. Apparently, back in the 1600s a branch of the family emigrated to the Colonies in the New World. At some point they changed the name to Fenix. My parents came back, to Scotland, where I was born. They were killed when I was six years old by a group of terrorists. In fact, it seems to be the same group of terrorists attacking several towns now." Evan responded. "What kind of terrorists?" asked Ginny. "They apparently call themselves 'Death Eaters', and like to dress themselves in black robes and white masks." He said. With the exception of Hermione, the Hogwarts group looked at each other and then back at Evan.
"Hermione tells us that you are a s..s.. soldier, and you train to kill these terrorists." Ron sneered. "Well Ron, I belong to the Royal Marines. We are a special force trained to respond to terrorist activities around the world. The United Kingdom, like most countries, has allies and assets around the world. We also have groups who, for whatever reason, do not like or agree with us. Of those groups there are a few who decide to take more physical action. Action such as kidnapping, beheading civilians, bombing hotels and offices, slaughtering whole towns. There are also terrorists that prefer to attack civilian targets here at home, like the one that killed my parents. We had one not so long ago, in Exeter – a group of these Death Eaters arrived in this small shopping area and started blasting innocent civilians. So, Ron. You appear upset about this for some reason. What is it about us defending our country, your country and brother- and sister-civilians from terrorists willing to kill, blast and burn them, that you do not agree with?" Evan asked.
"Your killing them!" Ron replied heatedly. "Ron, I would like to try something, to help you visualize what it is like. I will stand over there, in the corner and you remain with your friends. I don't want you to feel under stress or that you feel threatened. I want you to close your eyes for a minute and just listen to my voice as I describe a scene to you. Are you willing to do that?" Evan asked. "I am not threatened by the likes of you" responded Ron. "That is good, Ron. Close your eyes. Imagine yourself in a small alley, a shopping alley. It's narrow, maybe 6 meters wide, lined with various stores. Some of the stores sell treats, some antiques, some clothes, a jewelry store, a toy store, a houseware store, a book store. Are you able to imagine that, Ron?" "Yes, it's like Dia….." he was interrupted by an elbow in the side from Ginny. "Yes" Ron repeated.
"Good. Now imagine families moving down this shopping alley. Fathers, mothers, a child or two holding their hands as they go from store to store. It's midday. The alley is full. There is music playing in the background providing the cheer for Christmas. The kids are excited, jumping and pulling, wanting to see everything around them. Can you picture that, Ron?" Evan continued. "Yes" Ron responded. "In pop 10 people dressed in black robes and white masks. They immediately start blasting whoever is in their way – the fathers, the mothers, the children. It doesn't matter. Body parts are falling around: a bloody arm, a leg, a torso with head attached – a young girl's, her eyes wide open but dead falling at your feet. Your parents collapsing on top of you. Can you imagine that, Ron" "I…I…I don't know" said Ron.
"I can. That is what I remember of when my parents were killed. How would that make you feel if that was your family that was randomly attacked? Wouldn't you want somebody to protect you and your family?" Evan asked. "But you are killing wiz…." Ron was interrupted again by an elbow in the side. "So, you appear to object to killing these monster terrorists. Is that what you are saying?" Evan asked. "Yes" Ron replied. "I understand. So, you would have us do what? Knock them out and tie them up?" "Yes" Ron replied. "Ummm. Ron, you are standing in the opposite corner of the room from me. Hermione, do you trust me?" he asked. "Yes." She replied. "With your life?" He asked again. "Yes." She replied.
"Actually, let's make this much safer – I don't really want to put holes in your parent's walls. Do you have a tennis ball here?" he asked Hermione. "Yes, I'll get it." Hermione went to the garage and came back with a lime-green tennis ball and handed it to Evan. "OK, Ron. I am going to simulate attacking Hermione by throwing this ball 10 centimeters above her head. I would like you to try to knock me out before that ball hits. In your mind, however, I want you to think I just threw a knife at her head. Are you ready? I am going to give you a 3-count warning. One, two, three!" The ball flew straight and fast, and hit 10 centimeters above Hermione's head and bounced off. Ron had barely taken two steps when Evan caught the ball and launched it at Neville. Another two steps and Evan had caught the ball again and threw it at Ginny. Lastly, Evan threw the ball at Luna, who reached up and caught the ball!
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