A/N: I own nothing. Obviously.

"And that, everyone, is why you break the grindylow's grip BEFORE it nearly succeeds in strangling you. Fortunately for whoever that was, he was only mildly asphyxiated. Any questions?"

Despite the quite obvious sarcasm in his statement, some poor imbecile in the crowd proceeded to raise their hand. Resisting the urge to beat his head against the wall 'till his ears started leaking brain fluid, Ron forced his facial features to arrange themselves from their current "are you retarded?" expression to his more socially accepted, ministry approved, "there is no such thing as a stupid question, despite the fact that you are about to prove me wrong" look.

"Yes, Miss...oh. Miss Brown?

For indeed, it was none other than the face sucking, overly dramatic, boyfriend bling buying, former girlfriend herself. Smiling in what may have passed as a non-seductive look if her face was viewed in the dark by a nearsighted 80 year old 40 yards away, she proceeded to whip out a notepad quill.

"Yes, I'm here with the Daily Prophet. Mr. Weasley, is it in fact true that none other than Harry Potter himself will be in charge of the new Auror training program at Hogwarts?"

The crowd of onlookers who had gathered at the commotion of someone getting choked to death by a grindylow, in a public swimming pool no less, hadn't expected the situation to turn into an interview. While some proceeded to look on in mild curiosity, others looked as though Christmas had come early. Already, whispers were spreading through the crowd at the speed of fungi growing in a pair of wet trainers.

Running his hand through his hair, Ron sighed. "At this point, it's undetermined as to whether there will actually be an Auror Training program at Hogwarts. Details are still being mapped out as we speak."

He was forcibly reminded of Rita Skeeter as Lavender sucked the end of her quill in thought. However, before she could ask another question, he bowed to the onlookers and saluted the slightly startled would be reporter.

"Folks, it's been great and all. However, I'm needed back and the ministry, and as we all know, duty comes first. It's been a joy, and remember," he reminded the still recovering victim of the grindylow attack, "break the grip before it strangles you. Have a nice week."

And with these words, he dissaparated with a loud CRACK! However, the ministry was not his destination. Not yet, anyways. It was time to pay a visit to an old friend.