Ron Weasley did his work as always, practicing his spellwork and contemplating what went wrong. He had Neville, that's what it was. I expected some dunce like his usual servants. We'd have had him crying for mummy in a heartbeat if it weren't for Neville and that plant. As of yet, though, there was nothing to be done about the Hufflepuff. He knew perfectly well that he and Hermione had insulted the boy, and the only accidental part of it was revealing it. As he worked on his extensive writing for Charms, he began to think they could have bluffed out of it had she not gone and confessed.
"Alohamora" he said simply, pointing at the door to the classroom where he was currently locked. No, Hermione did the right thing. I'm being a bad friend. His thoughts turned to Malfoy. He had been unable to either get revenge or redeem himself, as it was the girl who challenged him, Ron was simply taken along for the ride. It might have been different had they won the duel, he might have won back some small amount of favor, but if anyone had even heard they were dueling, they heard he and Hermione lost. Of course, no one seemed to remember it was really Neville who won it. At least Malfoy has it worse, far as I can tell. He's not being allowed out of the castle- probably they reckon he can't be responsible for his own safety.
He returned to his writing. The essence of a charm is that it is a spell with a defined use. Ron snorted at the thought that color changing spells had a use, but continued reading. A charm can be used quickly if necessary, but only with practice, as is true for any spell. Careful attention is the price of a properly executed charm; the movement, the incantation, and the intent are functional aspects to the completion of the form. He thought about it, wondering what kind of charm he would use on Malfoy at the next opportunity. Has to be something he wouldn't see coming- starting to sound like charms aren't so quick as jinxes. He began to take a liking to the slug-belching one, though it seemed something like that would be easy to trace back to him.
As he went out to the castle doors, it occurred to him that he had taken little enough opportunity to explore the grounds. Doesn't help that I've been in detention since Merlin remembers. Argus Filch, the school caretaker, had apparently volunteered to take him outside into the cold night. The squib was exceedingly excited to be administering punishment, especially since it was one where the student was risking life and limb.
"I 'ear this is the only reason you 'aven't been expelled, boy. Well good for you. In my day, we'd a already 'ad you strung up by the ankles." Ron knew better than to respond, though it was hardly because he did not desire to. He knew his brothers tormented the man to no end, and his parents had instructed him not to mock him for being a squib. Arthur and Molly Weasley were happy that Filch found meaningful employment at Hogwarts, and interpreted this as a transparently noble attempt to integrate squibs into the everyday life of wizards. Ron opined, silently, that they should have picked one who wasn't a git and his parents might have been Hufflepuffs if they had wanted.
On the grounds, Hagrid simply ignored Filch's comments and led Ron into the Forbidden Forest with a crossbow and a dog he identified as Fang.
"Causin' trouble again, Weasley?"
"I wasn't the direct cause this time." They heard what sounded like an owl, which surprised Ron, considering he had expected nothing other than the most dangerous of animals. What's a sane creature doing here?
"A course ye weren't. Just like yer brothers." The boy's face grew red, though not nearly so red as to match his hair. "Don't be like Fred and George. Brilliant gits, prob'bly get into a real fight one day and die- worse yet, one a ther experiments'll do 'em in." They could only see by the light of what appeared to be a Muggle lantern; he remembered his father had at one point found it difficult to distinguish between 'lanterns' and 'lecterns', which had been annoying, but not embarrassing like some of the others. According to the twins, their father was really better off listening to Muggle radio, but it was too much fun watching him to disabuse him. "A 'course, it's better ye don't end up like Percy, either. Ye know fer like three years he insisted on bein' called 'Percival'? Boy's no knight." The dog barked and Hagrid stopped talking.
"What is it?"
"Fang thinks he smells a dead unicorn. 'Course, might be a rabbit again." They walked into a clearing where they discovered exactly what Ron might have expected.
"What kind of creature d'you reckon can chase down a unicorn?" He knew little about the animals except that they were fast.
"Dragon, maybe, but there'd be fire everywhere." the groundskeeper responded. "We're not looking fer something fast, we're looking fer something smart." It occurred to Ron that beneath the whimsical personality and oafish appearance, there might very well be a brilliant mind. "Say, there's an idea. Be like Charlie. I liked Charlie. Knew his beasts, that boy."
"What's something smart?" he asked, returning to the subject.
"Wizard. Plenty 'o creative creatures out there, but how many of 'em know you can only find unicorns here? Protected species. Prob'bly have ter go ter northern Greece outside Britain. Killing curse and a flesh-render ter make it look like a creature did it. Gimme a light spell."
"Lumos. Well, why'd he just leave it here?" Ron asked as his wand ignited with a silver light.
"Only needed the blood- it's dead useful, but only if it's fresh. Most folk don't know what it does. Better fer the beasts, I say." He paused for a moment, visibly thinking. "Truth is, it'll save ye from the brink 'o death."
"Well-"
"Ye'll be cursed. Ain't worth it. Ye were thinkin' o' that Gryffindor boy? One who got brained with a rock?" The image of Dean Thomas was still fresh in his mind. As the unconscious body was loaded onto a magical stretcher, it was clear to anyone with eyes that he had minimal time left. McGonagall left to notify the boy's mother. The following morning as he related what had happened during Charms, Hermione jabbed Ron in the ribs and told him not to say it. He was still working out what exactly it was that he was supposed to not say.
"Kinda. D'you reckon it would work?"
"Work? He could be dead and walk again- but don't get any ideas. Ain't yer fault what happened, ye should be lookin' inter who put the troll inter the castle. Couldn't a gotten in on its own, I know the beasts."
"D'you suppose it could be the same person? Someone who knows magical creatures?" Ron clammed up immediately after suggesting the idea, no desire present to incriminate the man before him. Though he never seemed to use a wand, there was no doubt he could tear through a first-year without even trying. Unexpectedly, Hagrid smiled.
"Got some stones on ye, boy. I got alibis for both times, just so ye know. I know ye prob'bly suspected me. Slytherin. Wand snapped. Went to Azkaban. I tell ye, though, boy, and this is important. Wasn't a wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin- but that don't mean there wasn't a Slytherin who didn't go bad." Ron nodded, unsure of how else to respond. "See, way we're talkin' about it, we said wizard at least three times. Couldn't it a been a witch? Saw a few witches in prison- but only a few. Wizards commit almost every crime that takes place- but you wouldn't hurt a flobberworm, not really. Almost all wizards commit no crimes. Funny, ain't it?"
They scanned the clearing in silence. Ron suspected he should be looking for some sort of clue, but the broken beauty of the unicorn distracted him. In his own wand there was a single hair from a unicorn, which conducted the magical charge from his body like a Muggle lighting rod.
"It was a dark wizard. No one else could have done this." he decided, lifting the body with a levitation charm to see if there was anything beneath it.
"Prob'bly. Trouble is, we don't have a damn clue who it was. Death Eater chain o' command is a mystery- we don't know where You Know Who is." All of a sudden, the grounds man stopped dead. "I should not have told you that."
"He's not dead?" Ron asked, beginning to panic. "Everyone always said he was dead!"
"Cahm down, boy, he's nowhere near. If he's not dead, he's near enough- biding his time. No one's seen him in ten years. Only Dumbledore 'n a few 'o his friends know about it." Ron still failed to see how it was possible. "Most folks are better off not knowin', he says."
"How is he alive?" As the clearing was bereft of evidence, they started out of the forest. "Wasn't there a body?" He had heard the details from his brothers, as his parents refused to tell him.
"Don't mean anythin' with that strong a wizard. Paranoid too, Dumbledore was always on about how he was afraid o' dyin' and all."
The detention concluded quietly after Hagrid got the three of them past the centaurs. Whoever killed the unicorn was no one Fang had met before, and Hagrid intentionally passed him by all Hogwarts students in their first year. Finding an excuse with the faculty was more difficult, especially with the ones who did not care for dogs. During the explanation, Ron imagined it was inconvenient that they had a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts every year.
"D'you reckon it could have been Quirrell?" he asked, thinking about his encounter.
"Wizard's clean as a whistle. 'Sides, Fang woulda barked if he picked up his scent out here." Hagrid responded. "Lived a quiet life o' research afore comin' here. 'Course, there's such a thing as too clean- and too quiet." he paused as they headed to the hut. "Don't worry yerself about it, Weasley. Not yer responsibility. Whatever's killin' these unicorns is mine. Whoever's puttin' trolls inter the castle is Dumbledore's. Feel sorry fer him already."
"What did Dumbledore do that made people afraid of him?" Ron asked, guessing he was about to be sent back to the castle.
"It's a lotta things. He's not afraid o' anyone, wizard, beast- I met over fifty men he sent ter Azkaban. Gave me something ter smile about- me old Transfiguration teacher who always stood up fer me, sending dark wizards straight ter where they belong. Didn't give a damn about the Dementors; they shook at the thought o' Dumbledore. Rosier was happy ter have a life sentence- he was afraid o' leavin'."
That night his dreams were dark and he decided he would find Hermione.
At breakfast he found her sitting next to Anthony Goldstein and he went ahead and forbade himself from making jokes. As he sat down and started to eat, Seamus found him and joined them.
"I thought you two weren't on speaking terms." Hermione started.
"That's true, come to think of it." the other Ravenclaw continued. "Your credit with the other Gryffindors was shot." The witch visibly glowered at Ron, but he pretended not to notice.
"We don't hold grudges." Seamus explained simply.
"The Gryffindors-"
"No, we don't hold grudges." he specified, cutting Hermione off. "I'm no Briton." the witch buried her face in her hands, looking like she was trying to do some sort of internal scream. "Anyway, what did you see in the Forest?" he asked Ron.
"That was what I was about to bring up." As he spoke, Anthony Goldstein and Seamus listened intently, though he left out the part about the properties of the unicorn blood, as Hagrid had said they were 'in dangered' or something. The Ravenclaw girl might have been listening, but her face was concealed and she made no comment. "Whatever happened to Dean?" he asked, not having been able to find out between detentions.
"They say he never died, but I don't believe it." Seamus responded. "I saw him- right there with me own eyes. They took him up to the hospital wing all lifeless- Snape gave him a potion on the way there." It was a detail that caught Hermione's attention, and for that Ron was grateful. "We haven't been allowed to see him since."
He asked her what she had put together in Charms class.
"Well, it might be nothing, but that boy, Dean, was hit in the head with a piece of masonry. Either he was dead or he wasn't dead. Had he been dead, there's really no potion Professor Snape could have been carrying that would have brought him back-"
"Unicorn blood." Ron said, interrupting as he cast a color change charm, annoyed, though distracted by an odd warmth from his wand. "That explains that, I suppose." Hermione was visibly putting together his muttered response as she performed the charm correctly, turning a piece of parchment blue, then bronze.
"I suppose they could have removed all mentions of its curative properties from the library. Unicorns are endangered, after all."
"Oh, like even you've read enough of the library to know they don't have it." he scoffed, remembering she had no particular interest in magical creatures. The witch glowered before beginning again.
"Either way, we don't know that Professor Snape obtained the blood himself, or if it was provided for him." she continued.
"Come off it, Hermione, you've seen him." Ron started back as they left class together. "There's no way he's not a dark wizard."
"Ron, he's a teacher." she said as they rounded the corner. He realized he had never told her all of what happened with the midnight duel, where he ran into Quirrell, but decided it would have to wait for another time as she went off to her next class. Sooner or later, something would happen that would sour her idea of teachers as his had been soured. He had appreciated the Defense teacher not reporting his behavior, as he might be expelled by this point if it had been reported, but there was no way the correct response to a student being out of bed was to send him back with a portkey and make no mention of it. Snape's evil, but Quirrell is up to something. Trouble is, I can't prove it and no one's really going to believe me.
In class he was distracted, but managed not to scald himself in Potions, brewing a mild sleeping potion while eyeing the instructor, as though he hoped to gain relevant information just by watching him. Unfortunately, he lacked an extra container for the sleeping potion or he would have taken it with him. As was the custom in the Weasley family, he borrowed George's set of glass phials for the first day of class, then proceeded to not use them after passing the requirement.
Later, he saw Neville flying around on a broom outside, wondering how bitter cold it was up there from the confines of a window as he took notes listlessly. He had to do well, he knew that. All of his brothers before him were succeeding, it would simply be unacceptable for him not to do at least as well as they did. The way everyone he met seemed to want to compare him to his brothers discouraged and annoyed him, but they would continue to do that whether or not he liked it. All I can do is make sure I come out on top. If I try I can at least beat Percy. Not financially, but I'll be cooler.
Going to his mandated detention after classes were over, he was almost glad not to have run of the castle. He had not explored even nearly all of it, not even close, but there had to be a dark wizard somewhere in the castle and it was better not to run into him. He hated the idea of letting Dean's killer go unpunished, whether or not the boy stayed dead, but at the same time he felt like a rat in a trap. There was so little he could do, especially against an adult wizard, and he was already skating on the thinnest ice he could imagine- being expelled was better than dying, but it would represent his total failure to even approach the success of his brothers.
Somewhere in Gryffindor tower, he expected Scabbers was sniffing around for crumbs again. He had been placed there for a tendency to wander more than most rats, especially rats of his age. What he was trying to accomplish, Ron had no idea, but he seemed intent on always scurrying about.
"Really feel for you, Scabbers." he started, noting that there was no one around to hear him. "Might be I'll let you run around the grounds if I ever get out of this trap. Wouldn't mind it myself." His thoughts drifted to the unicorn before nodding off.