Disclaimer: Don't own HP.
AN: I'm thinking this might stay as a oneshot, but maybe I'll write some more if people like the idea of an alcoholic Ron. Who knows? He might save the world. Enjoy.
"Bluug" Ron hiccoughed wetly. Maybe all that firewhisky was a bad idea. No! The firewhisky was a brilliant idea.
"Phoenixes are good. Phoenixes are fiery. Firewhisky is fiery. ERGO… firewhisky is phoenixes? No! Firewhisky is good!"
Merlin he loved the room of requirement. What had started as a half-hearted attempt to complete his DADA homework had blossomed into a wonderful evening. An evening of discovery. Most important of course, was the discovery that the room provided the intoxicating beverage that he most definitely required to slog through the awful essay Umbridge had set.
Finishing off his last paraglider, no, paragraph, with a flourish and a mighty hiccough, Ron reclined into the embrace of his latest love interest. With an uninhibited imagination, he had chanced upon the greatest invention since quidditch; an armchair made entirely out of roasted boneless chicken.
Ron pondered the potential his great mind could have, and the wonderful benefits the whole world could reap. "I am an inspiration!"
Yes, he really would change the world. He would be remembered long past Albus Dumbledore, You-Know-Who and even Harry Bloody Potter. It was unfortunate that his name wasn't as captivating as he'd like.
Ron then hazily recalled how You-Know-Who's name was an anorak… no, an anagram, of Tom Marvolo Riddle. He could do that too! Then the whole world would be in awe of his majesty, his bravery, his handsomeness.
But what could he make with the letters from 'Ronald Bilius Weasley'?
That stumped him. "Bloody Hell!" his head was starting to hurt. The combined effects of a nascent hangover and overly exerting his brain was a potent duo indeed.
A minute, or an hour, or two? It was hard to tell. Some time later, epiphany struck and Ron proudly signed his new name onto his homework. The teachers would be so impressed! Soon, the world would be impressed!
Thinking and drinking both complete, Ron took another huge chunk of meat out of his chair, chewed a couple of times, and promptly passed out with unswallowed chicken still in his prodigiously capacious mouth.
It was two days later that saw Dolores Umbridge rubbing the bridge of her nose while in the process of attempting to mark the last of her fifth year essays; 'Explain and evaluate the different courses of action that may be taken during a dangerous confrontation with a dark wizard and/or half-breed, and describe in detail the particular course of action deemed most appropriate'.
She was quite pleased when she'd come up with the idea. It would allow her to quickly isolate any students that would attempt to fight themselves, and re-educate them accordingly. Indeed, Harry Potter's essay had given her wonderful insight into the workings of his insane, attention-seeking mind. Yes, he would be dealt with, and Cornelius would be ever so pleased!
Unfortunately, the Potter problem was far from the worst of her issues. That particular accolade went to whatever… thing, had written the horror she was currently trying to comprehend.
"WHAT I WOULD DO WHEN I SOME FILTHY SLYTHERIN SNAKE IS MESSING WITH ME
By A Dab Ensures Willy Oil (AKA RBW)
Well obviously I would make sure I had there attention first and then I would get there wand by expelliarmising them. Then after they flew back and bashed off the wall I would give them time to catch there breathe.
At the same time they are standing up again I would say "hahaha you stupid snake give up no wait don't give up 'cause I am not done with you yet!"
Then I would grab them and throw them and stuff. Chicken chair."
(Here, grease stains obscured most of the writing. Dolores thought she caught something along the lines of 'Chuddy Cannons', whatever a Chuddy Cannon was. Perhaps a dangerous blasting spell Dumbledore was teaching students in preparation for his attack on the minister.)
"But then I bet Snape would turn up the bloody greasy git and he would say 'WEASLEY!' and I would be like 'BLOODY HELL!' and he would try to take 394 house points from Gryffindor but I would tell the greasy git to shut up he would be put in his place because of how brave I am.
So I would have won. As for what I would do with a half-bread I would probably eat it if I could find some butter. Then maybe I would go look for the other half of the bread if I was still hungry"
Dolores finished reading the travesty and immediately marked it with a lower-case 'a', for Abominable.
She immediately proceeded to slam her head repeatedly into her rich mahogany desk, much to the protest of her wonderful kittens, and stared blankly into space.
Who in the name of Merlin was 'A Dab Ensures Willy Oil'?
One thing was for sure. Dolores Umbridge needed a drink.