This is my first time writing Gravity Falls.
Watch me fail at humor. Please Enjoy.
Special thanks to my beta, PropertyOfH. Thank you very much.
I don't own Gravity Falls or Harry Potter. I'm flattered if you think I do.
"See you in a bit."
At long last, Ron heard Harry stumble away to go find his sister. At the meantime, he resolved to get through the wall of rocks that had separated him from Harry. He cursed under his breath when a particularly sharp edge of a boulder cut into his hand. He had to hurry and get through. Not that he didn't trust Harry, because he did! He simply wanted to be there for his sister already.
Ginny may be insufferable and annoyingly girly (despite having boys for her older siblings) at some times, but she's his sister. He may or may not feel guilty of slightly ignoring her this year, her first year in wizarding school.
Then again, Harry is the hero of the wizarding world. He'll handle the problem, he always does. At the end of it all, Ron will be there at the side, cheering for his best mate. Ron dropped to the floor on his bottom, giving up on trying to move the large boulders that had piled up to the rocky ceiling. He cradled his bleeding hand, not bothering to wipe the blood on his slimy uniform.
"Ughhhhh..." Ron looked up to see his forgotten companion in the dark. He groaned.
Great. No exit to crawl out of, no wand to spell himself clean, no ventilation to rid of that awful sewage smell, and a crazy worthless teacher who just tried to erase his memories merely minutes ago.
Lockhart forced his head up to stare at his surroundings, then at Ron.
"What a dingy looking place," he started. " do you live here?"
"No, why would you think I live in here?" Ron asked.
Lockhart hummed. "I've always wanted to meet a sewage hermit." Then he frowned. "Then... Do I live here? Must be why I find sewage hermits fascinating. I am one! And I am quite fascinating, aren't I?"
"No, you—"
"And you, dear boy, must know a lot about me. Despite my allure I simply cannot remember who I am and when I have become a hermit."
Ron shut his mouth. There's no way he can explain the current situation to a deranged past teacher on his own. He'll just wait to be rescued and let the adults handle this. He turned to start again on the wall of rocks. Oh, well bloody hell, he thought, staring at the wall. This is what happens when the adults handle situations.
"You like napping," Ron made up, answering the teacher. "You nap especially around this time at whatever o'clock."
"I'm feeling quite rejuvenated, I don't thin—"
"Oh you have to," the boy interrupted. "Ugh... Sewage hermit tradition, you know."
"Of course!" Lockhart grinned winningly. "How could I forget." He laid his head back down and shut his eyes, waiting for sleep.
Ron sighed and continued on his work. Rock after rock, he pulled at the wall, until he saw a small gap to the other side. He whooped and kept digging, the slight sting of his cut hand gone. The rough texture of the rocks he blindly grabbed bit into his skin until... It doesn't. The rough feeling of rocks were replaced by a rather smooth and leathery feel of something between the rocks. Ron crouched to look at the strange item lodged in the wall and saw a worn red book. Removing a bit more of the rocks, he was finally able to pull it free without any damage. He blew on the cover, making dust fly off. A curious cover adorned the thick red book.
A golden image of a hand with six fingers was engraved on the cover, with the number 4 painted on the palm.
