This is a short story about Ron, a butterfly and a race to for pride.
I Do Not Own Anything In Harry Potter. That All Belongs To J. K. Rowling
Inspiration Taken From Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets p. 39 Passage:"…Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies."
Ronniekins and the Big Bad Butterfly
Stupid butterflies. They always think themselves so high and mighty flapping around with their colored wings, taunting me by doing those little flips and stopping to look back at me every so often. No matter how hard I try I just can't seem to beat them. I put every effort I have and I still can't surpass them.
I was in the middle of an important race, everyone was looking. I just simply had to win. Harry was staring at me, laughing his ass off. Not my fault that my opponent was way better than me. I was fighting a losing war against a monarch! With my crappy broom there was no chance! I tried to push it forward, tried to go as fast as I could. Still a no go.
The stupid orange and black bug looked back at me. I'm sure it smiled in a cruel snide way. For some reason this thing was reminding me of Malfoy which wasn't helping my vindictiveness towards it. It kept flying from side to side, not bothering to keep in a straight line, what was the use? It knew it was going to win.
With a snarl I tried to block the sounds surrounding me (mainly Fred and George cheering me on out of pity and Harry laughing hard enough to fall off his all mighty Nimbus 2000). The finish line was coming up and I concentrated my gaze on the butterfly… maybe if I used accidental wand-less magic and set it on fire I would win. I put all my energy on trying to make that happen.
The finish line was getting closer, and closer (closer some more). We were almost there when… (no I didn't finally set it on fire) a bird came barreling my way (it looked like a worn out feather duster so it must have been Errol. What the hell was he doing?) and crashed into me. I fell of my slow moving broom, being pushed over by the collision. I sat up from where I had fallen and looked towards my opponent. Of course the bug had won.
I stood up, looking at the finish line with as much dignity as I could muster, holding the comatose owl in my arms (which incidentally had a letter addressed to me from Hermione). I stared at the butterfly, determined to win next time. While Harry was still on the ground laughing, Fred came towards me to place a hand on my shoulder. "You'll win next time Ronniekins."
I would prove him right. I would win the next time. Even if it was the last thing I did.
The End