"Tonight's the night. If Snape steals the stone, who knows how Voldemort could benefit."
Ron flinched. His reasoning was two-fold. First off, Harry's utterance of the name feared by the vast majority of wizards in Britian was not normal to Ron. Second, the idea of going through a trapdoor past a bloody three-headed dog was not his or Harry's idea of fun.
"You won't be going down there yourself." Ron stated firmly.
"I can't involve you in this in any way. I don't want to see you get hurt." Harry replied.
"We're coming with you Harry." Hermione pushed.
"Yeah, Harry. We've got your back and we're not letting go." Ron said with finality in his tone.
"Ok, fine then. This will be quite dangerous." Harry replied, coming to terms with the fact that his friends would not be backing out on this.
"We know Harry. That's not going to stop us." Hermione assured.
Boy, that girl could be stubborn when she wanted to. He found that to be a cute mannerism of hers, but he had eternal plans to take that opinion with him to the grave.
He tried to extricate himself from the tentacles that had entrapped him without his noticing. Hermione was struggling against the wall, standing on a small rock formation that came just short of the plant-like thing capturing him. Surely enough, Harry was looking like the creature's appetiser too.
"I've just remembered something!" Hermione screamed, echoing a thousand times off the damp rocky walls. The effect was mesmerising.
"Well, hurry up! I can't breathe!" Harry gasped.
Ron realised that oxygen was thinning inside of him as he struggled to even say his own name.
"It's called Devil's Snare!" she breathed.
"Well that's just dandy! How d'you stop us from becoming it's Sunday brunch?" Harry yelled hoarsely.
"It likes the dark and cold. That's what Flitwick said last month..."
"So light a fire!" Harry whispered. The plant was constricting his airways.
"There's no wood!" Hermione observed.
"BLOODY HELL HERMIONE!! ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?" Ron roared, his energy slightly replenished.
"Oh, of course!" Hermione sighed, like this was class and she had answered a question wrongly the first time around.
She conjured some of those beautifully warm bluebell flames and watched as the Devil's Snare released it's prey and sunk back, into a seemingly enchanted sleep.
Ron got up, shaking from head to toe.
"Never again. Never. " he muttered tiredly. Too damn tired to do this shit. He should have just stayed in bed this morning and had a lie-in.
"You guys should have listened in Flitwick's class." Hermione reprimanded them as she got to her feet.
She just fucking saved us from becoming Devil's Snare's food and the first thing she does is scold us for not paying attention in Flitwick's class? Really? Like, what?? I might never understand girls. All the weird things they do in near death situations. Their appliance of makeup when they already look dazzling. Their frickn' high heels. Someone has got to write a book. Not some crappy one about how to get with girls, I mean an actual bloody book detailing girls, their antics and why the hell they do things. I'm going on a tangent here. Must place myself at the matter at hand, Ron thought, wondering how this day could get any worse.
"There happens to be a door." Harry noted, pointing. A rustic, brass door stood proudly, silently daring them to walk through and wallow in the horrors lurking within. Hmm. That would be a good story description. They filed through the door and came to the next room. There were glittering birds flying haphazardly across the room. Harry made a startling revelation.
"They're not birds, they're keys, look carefully." Harry informed the group.
"Look! Broomsticks!" Harry rushed over and threw them to Ron and Hermione.
Ron went over and examined the lock of this room's door. It was a shiny silver, simple, yet elegant, a nice contrast to the dull grey of the rocky wall.
"We're looking for a silver key, like the lock." Ron confirmed.
Several minutes later, and after crashing into the roof more than was warranted, they had the key. Ron stuffed it into the lock and turned. He set the battered key free. After some meaningful exchanged looks and nods, they proceeded to the next chamber.
It was quite dark in here. Ron was just putting his hand in front of his eyes to see if he could distinguish the outline from the darkness when the door slammed shut, locking them in and suddenly lighting up the room, revealing the all-important fact that the trio were standing on the edge of a giant chessboard.
"Excuse me." Ron said in a high voice that wasn't usually there. The white queen turned it's stone head towards him in answer.
"Do we have to play our way across the board to get to the next room?"
The white queen nodded in the affirmative.
Ron and the others took the places of a few black pieces. They quivered in their spots, cowering before the overly tall chess pieces. Ron directed their troops to do battle. He had a recklessly brave pawn and an incredibly stupid knight to deal with. He made sure to monitor Harry and Hermione's conditions to decide whether they should move or not. Ron had to constantly dash across the board, taking as many pieces as were being depleted from them. It was a good thing that Ron was a chess guru. Otherwise, this would be hell right now.
They were losing quite badly to the white team now and they really couldn't afford to lose any more pieces. What if he stuffed up and caused Harry or Hermione to be knocked out by the pieces? No, he had to calm himself. He wouldn't lose this for anything, not with Harry, Hermione and the fate of the Stone relying on him so strongly. He pondered for a moment. They were in a tight spot, not enough pieces to make a good move. He came to a rather unfortunate conclusion.
"I have to get taken by the white queen and that leaves you, Harry, free to checkmate." Ron said grimly.
"No! You can't, Ron!" screamed Hermione.
"I must! Sometimes you have to make sacrifices in chess and this is one of those times!" Ron shot back, looking resigned.
This was probably gonna hurt quite a bit, from what he could gather of their pieces' destruction. Too damn painful. But he had to. It probably wouldn't be permanent. Hopefully no brain damage.
Ron apprehensively made his move towards the almighty white queen. She towered over him like a brick wall, leaving a long shadow over his form. The queen paused for a second, as if doing some quick thinking, then it descended onto him with the power of five Acromantula. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Harry and Hermione's horror-stricken expressions and all the other chess pieces looking quite smug. He could have sworn that one of them smirked at him as he fell to the ground with a loud thud.
Lying down on something comfy and warm was an experience that he just couldn't miss. This bed was one of the most luxurious beds he had ever rested on (and that included his dormitory four-poster). Why he was lying down, though, he was at a loss. Everything before this strange moment of serenity was a fuzzy blur, distorted images flashing through his mind.
Voices started to erupt around him like a boat's foghorn or a Sonorus charm. They sounded worried, he hadn't a clue why. Why was he lying in this goddamn bed, why was every event before now trapped in a blurry vault and why were these voices even worried?! Who were these people, intruding while he was resting upon the bed? Why in the name of everything holy did his fucking head feel like he'd been knocked out or something?
Click. Click, click, BOOM. It was all rushing back to him. The Stone, Snape going to steal it, Harry pursuing the Stone, him and Hermione going with, the retarded Devil's Snare almost eating them for dinner, the winged key room. The next room contained a stupidly overlarge chess board with live magical pieces the size of fucking Godzilla. He remembered playing across the board.
Ah. Checkmate. He had sacrificed himself to let Harry checkmate and ultimately win. The white queen rendered him useless to the others. He hoped against hope that Harry got the Stone, maybe Dumbledore was protecting it now.
He sat up and allowed himself a glance at the bed adjacent to his. Sure enough, Harry was sitting up in it as well, speaking to Hermione, when he stopped and said,
"Hey, Ron! How're you feeling?"
"Alright. My head still hurts a bit, but not as much as I imagined it would. I think I was given some potion for it. But let's get down to more pressing matters."
Ron dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Do you have the Stone? Where is it now?"
"Dumbledore talked to me when I woke up. He said the Stone was destroyed."
"Aw, man." Ron groaned loudly.
"I would have loved to have lived to be 600 years old. Or to have a gold toilet."
Ron paused for a moment, as if deciding.
"Yeah, I want the toilet." he grinned.
Hermione had to suppress a giggle. Harry burst into tears of laughter as he nearly fell off the bed. If he had, though, he was in the hospital wing.
"Tell Fred and George that." Hermione smiled, holding back a snigger.
"Yeah, especially after Mum told them not to blow up a toilet." Ron replied, guffawing heartily.
The trio laughed for a while, exchanging jokes and talking about the events miles under the school.
Ron was finally getting to share the spotlight with Harry. The tale of his essential sacrifice while playing with Professor McGonagall's chess set had spread through the school like Fiendfyre. People were ambushing him regarding this story. He elaborated on certain key details and the people were admiring of his bravery and logic.
Many first-years and even a fourth-year student challenged Ron to a chess match after hearing of the happenings. Ron beat every single one of them, highlighting at the end of the game where they went wrong, and giving them steps and tips to rectify their errors. It was an arduous task, but it was worth it just to see the smile on their faces when they took steps to manage their mistakes.
The feast was absolutely divine. Roast turkeys, chicken, potatoes and gravy descended into the depths of Ron's bowels. The Slytherins had won the House Championship this year, Harry being unable to play in the Quidditch matches due to his unconsciousness. Draco Malfoy was shouting and banging his goblet on the table. What a sickening prat.
"Ahem." Dumbledore had risen to speak. Silence was attained.
"Thank you. Due to the recent events, we must dish out a few last minute points."
Ron eyebrows raised, as did most of the crowd's. Slytherin didn't need more points, did they?
"To Mister Ronald Weasley-"
Ron felt the colour rising in his face. Him, receive extra points for Gryffindor?
"-for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in years, we award him fifty points."
Raucous cheers filled the hall as Gryffindors roared their pleasure and approval. Ron couldn't add up the points at the same time as cheering. He guessed that more points were coming; maybe another fifty?
"To Miss Hermione Granger-"
He looked over at Hermione and saw her face shining with surprise and anticipation.
"-for showing a cool use of logic in the face of fire, we award her fifty points."
More cheers erupted from the crowd that had been so silent a second ago. Hermione buried her face in her hands. Tears of happiness, he presumed. There was no way Hermione would be sad right now, what with the great food and the strong probability of Gryffindor winning the House Championship.
"To Mister Harry Potter-"
The room went so silent Ron could have sworn that no one was breathing.
"-for bravery and courage in the face of danger, we award him sixty points."
The cheers were rowdy and joyous. They were neck and neck with Slytherin. Why couldn't Dumbledore just have given Harry sixty-five points. Or even just one more point.
"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I hereby award Neville Longbottom ten points."
A bomb went off in the hall, so to speak, as the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs alike roared like ecstatic gorillas. Gryffindor had taken out the championship for this year. Neville was buried alive under a pile of people hugging him and praising him.
"We need a change of decorations." Dumbledore smiled. He quickly clapped his hands twice and the Slytherin banner became Gryffindor's. Ron smirked at Snape's feigned congratulatory expression. He also smirked at the look Malfoy was sporting, as if he had been denied his usual supply of sweets.
The feast became quite appealing, as if he hadn't noticed it's grandeur a few minutes ago. Draco's disappointed, angry look as he realised that Slytherin was no longer the winner was implanted into Ron's mind and it was probably never going to leave, at least not until he had finished his chicken.
"You must be Harry's family." his Mum said to the man, woman and child (or rather, basketball) while they looked scared at the mention of Harry's name.
"In a manner of speaking." the man grunted with a growl.
"Come on boy, we haven't got all day." he motioned to Harry furiously.
Where did Harry's uncle get off speaking to him like that? Was Harry's life always this bad, or were his family a bunch of megalomaniacs, making themselves appear intimidating in front of an audience?
"Hope, you er, have a good holiday." Hermione stammered in shock, thunderstruck by the dismissive and abusive manner Harry's uncle had treated Harry to.
"It's going to be great." Harry grinned.
Ron was amazed by this. How could life with an abusive family be even so much as mildly interesting, let alone fun?!
"They don't know we can't use magic over the holidays. I'm going to have much more fun than I should be allowed to with Dudley..."
Harry's grin only split wider as he waved and joined his family. He felt a rush of sympathy for Harry. Sudden, but he felt it nonetheless. He couldn't even begin to imagine how horrible it must be to have no parents.
"They should be here by now... I told them it's just the platform..." Hermione trailed off, looking around and anxiously checking her Muggle watch.
Of course it was Muggle, her parents were Muggles. She was Muggle-born, or Mudblood, as he had heard Draco Malfoy describing other Muggle-born kids as. Mudblood was a filthy name to be called, regardless of your magical category and ranking.
Not that he hated it. Hermione had turned out to be the most proficient in the grade. She knew anything. Heck, you didn't even need the textbooks when you had Hermione in a good mood.
"I'm sure they're fine. We were some of the first to leave the train. We're basically early." Ron comforted, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, wait. Is that..." Hermione stopped, unsure.
Hermione's mother and father were walking rather timidly through the hustle and bustle of the Muggle crowd, trying their utmost not to get lost in the tidal wave of people; instead weaving their way towards Hermione, waving jovially and scurrying over.
"How was school, dear?" her Mum asked gently.
"Oh, it was great, I learnt so much, I can't wait to go back." she babbled.
Ron smiled inside. Classic Hermione. Leaves school and wants to go back tomorrow. Probably asked for a garbage truck full of homework. Probably got it.
"Who's this?" Her father motioned towards him with interest.
"This is a friend, Ron Weasley." Hermione replied.
"Hi, good to meet you." Ron gripped her father's already outstretched hand firmly.
"Well, I suppose we'd better be off." her mother suggested.
"It was great meeting you, Ron. We hope to see you again in the near future." her father said.
"Certainly." Ron confirmed.
"Come, Hermione."
"Bye, Ron. Please write over the holidays!" Hermione squealed.
"Bye Hermione! See ya."
He turned around after watching Hermione and co. round the corner. His Mum and sister were standing a few metres away, twinkling at him. His brothers Gred and Forge, or whoever they were, exchanging jokes with each other.
"Time to go." he muttered, adjusting his Muggle pants and moving towards his family. Thank God he had family.