Harry and Hermione are probably sitting at the kitchen table in silence. The reason I don't know, is I'm lying in my bunk, in the darkest quarter of the tent. I don't know why I said it. It was the truth, though, to say that we are getting no where. They know this, of course - we haven't made progress since finding that cursed locket! And yet, hiding and moving and casting enchantments, and hiding some more isn't the worst of it. The worst is that I can't seem to stop thinking these thoughts. Like the thought that Harry pretended to know more about horcruxes than he does. Or, that Hermione thinks she knows just about everything, and that my perspective is about as useless as a care guide for flobberworms.

I hadn't actually felt this miserable since that period after the battle in the Ministry when my wounds had been recovering from those brains. It's not something I ever wanted to experience again, having such potent thoughts coursing through me like a magical charge on a continuous loop. I knew back then that Sirius Black had died, that Harry was distraught about it and that Hermione had been unconcious. I knew my own sister had been in danger too, yet those thoughts were all gossamer-thin like cobwebs and these intrusive fixations had a greater hold on me.

As foreign as it feels to be thinking poorly of my friends, despising our goal, and letting anger fill me up like smoking coals in a pit, I sometimes think I'm caving to it because of the alternative. Without the anger, I'd just be miserable. See, it's true that I'm useless here. Harry's not stupid; he's brave and he had Dumbledore's trust. Hermione is the brightest witch, probably, out of all Hogwarts students, and she tends to silently figure on things by herself. I really am useless, especially when I can't help but complain and make them miserable as well.

So I snapped. I'd felt like saying something for a while, and I snapped when they started getting cheerful! Glad, they were, that they'd found out the sword of Gryffindor was missing, as though it was going to change everything. Well, I can't help it if my perspective is unwelcome, but it was the truth to say that we were no closer to finding any more horcuxes, than to finding that sword; that sword, which may or may not even help with the horcruxes and may or may not have been the meaningless afterthought of a mental and dying, old wizard!

And all Hermione said was, "Take off the locket, Ron."

They were going to blame it on a piece of jewelry, then. Harry and Hermione couldn't even believe that I'd actually think these things, let alone say them.

In that moment, I couldn't even stand to be with them, to see their disturbed faces, irritated and hating me for not having perfect, precious, happy thoughts like, "Mmm, more raw fish and mushrooms for dinner!"

I don't know what made me say what I said. Or do what I did. I just know that I took off that locket, because I knew I was the same me with or without it. I threw it at them and made to storm out of the tent, and out of that wood, and to apparate to who-bloody-cares-where. I believe I would have done, too. But as I thrust that stupid chain over my head and bunged it in the general direction of their grimacing faces, something toppled out of my pocket.

My ancient, faded coat pocket had a torn seam, and that weird item Dumbledore left in his will had fallen to the floor. It was funny in a depressing sort of way, how the locket clunked to the table with a noise like a boulder, and the Deluminator just sounded like a miniscule, metal pin hitting the floor.

I stared at it. Harry was staring at the horcrux and Hermione was holding her hands to her eyes, but I picked up the Deluminator and clicked at it once. A light from one of the lamps zoomed into the Deluminator. I clicked it again, and the tent was dark. No light at all.

"Ron?"

I heard my name through the darkness, possibly uttered by Hermione or Harry, or both.

"Yeah," answered my own voice.

I stepped heavily across the tent and into the bedroom with the bunk I've been sharing with Harry, where I've been enclosed for days or weeks, since the splinching. At the doorway though, I glanced back at the dark kitchen, imagining where Harry and Hermione still sat and stood, respectively.

Just before I closed the door to the bedroom, I pointed and clicked the Deluminator in their direction. Let them have some light, I thought to myself, too exhausted to say or do anything more than collapse onto the bunk. Maybe, somehow, tomorrow would be a better day.

-END-

Note: I don't know how JK Rowling's Deluminator works, magically, as it is a mysterious, powerful and unique object. However, it worked symbolically to help Ron realize that there was both light and darkness within him. He was then able to find hope to remain, instead of apparating away.

Also, we know the horcrux was affecting the trio negatively, so perhaps finding the Deluminator allowed a few moments for Ron to starting feeling better, having removed the locket from his neck.

Thank you for reading! Thank you for feedback! :)