Lost in Translation
The fire crackled before him as he sat in the Gryffindor common room, his butt firmly planted to the same chair he had been in since dinner. It had been many hours since most of the cohort had moved off to their beds, and Ron was finally immersed in the quiet around him. There was a shuffle behind him, but he paid little attention to it, instead keeping his focus on the paper before him. His eyes were starting to hurt, and his nose had a small smudge of ink on it from when he had accidentally dipped too close to the parchment.
It was now nearing two in the morning, and Ron knew that time was getting short. He really needed to finish this tonight, otherwise he would have to skip Quidditch and the party - for when they undoubtably won. He was aching to retire to his soft, warm bed. His eyes drooping as the drowzyness became too strong. He jumped awake a someone softly kicked his shoe, jolting him enough for him to let out a very un-manly squeak.
"Oi!" he yelled, his ego thoroughly bruised as he looked up to Harry and Hermione as they stood over him. Hermione arms were crossed as she looked over his shoulder at the work in front of him.
"Ronald, are you still not done?" She sounded disappointed as she spoke, her head shaking and her curls bouncing. He shrugged, not sure what to say. She sighed, and rolled her eyes slowly. Ron knew she wasn't trying to be mean, but in his highly agitated and exhausted state, could not stop himself from snapping at her.
"I'm trying! But I really don't understand why we have to study this anyway?"
Harry let out a laugh, taking the seat beside his friend.
"All you had to do was find an easy text in another language and translate it! How hard is that?" Harry twisted the paper around, looking down at the scribbled language his friend had written. His face screwed up in confusion.
"Fine then, what did you choose?" Ron asked, his voice hostile as he looked between the two.
"French."
"Spanish."
Ron looked to Hermione then Harry, then narrowed his eyes.
"We didn't have to pick a magical language?" he asked softly, pulling the paper back from Harry with a sigh.
"No, of course not!" Hermione laughed, her hand placed on her stomach as she did. "What did you pick?" she asked as she tried to grab for the paper Ron was holding, but he pulled it out from her grip.
"None of your business!" he responded, his face going redder and redder as they talked. While he was distracted with the assault from the front, Harry slyly slipped the paper from his friend's hands and tried to read again.
"I honestly don't recognise this writing?" he said then, while avoiding Ron's grasped, passed it to Hermione. She started to read, then stopped, then started again. She frowned softly, looking from the paper to Ron then back.
"I can see why you're having trouble translating this, Ron," she said, a smile beginning to form on her face.
"Why?" Ron asked, his eyes widening.
"Because this is Klingon."
A/N: Words - 531
Ancient Runes; somebody struggling to understand a text written in a foreign language