Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Prized

Chapter Thirteen - The Puppet

Ron hated the puppet that Harry had become. He was perfect in every way, a flawless copy of what had once been Harry's casual bravery and good nature. But he just… knowing that it wasn't Harry…

He'd always thought that his best friend was a genuine hero, was someone who deserved his respect. He'd hated spying on Harry for Dumbledore, had sort of hated that it was the only way that his parents could afford to send him to Hogwarts at all. When Percy had graduated and their fourth year had begun, Ron had tried to stop. He'd tried to distance himself from Harry, admittedly in one of the worst ways possible, but two things had happened: he'd broken Harry's heart, visibly so, and Dumbledore had threatened to use his sister as the new spy.

That would have broken Ginny, Ron knew that. She had no idea of the maneuverings that were going on behind Harry's back, behind her back. Ron knew that his mother wanted Ginny to marry Harry, no matter what it took for that to happen. A small, mean part of Ron wondered if that was part of the reason that Dumbledore had Harry under compulsion, since now Harry was… cuddling with his sister on the couch. He'd never shown any interest in her before…

Was that just another way for Dumbledore to control him?

"This is disgusting," Ron muttered to Hermione, who was also watching them.

"What's disgusting?" She didn't lift her eyes from her book, clearly engaged more in her advanced Herbology text than in what Harry was stuck doing with Ginny. Thankfully, his sister hadn't taken up kissing Harry yet.

"Don't you care what's happening to Harry?" Ron asked, his voice a low hiss. He didn't want to be overheard by anyone, after all.

Hermione's book snapped closed and her jaw jutted out in a scowl. "Is this really an appropriate place to be having this conversation?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Are you willing to have it with me anywhere else?" Ron retorted immediately. "Because if you're not, then I suppose it doesn't matter where we talk about it."

Hermione just made a tsking sound, shook her head, and opened her book once more.

"It's basically rape, Hermione," he pointed out. Shouldn't that bother her? Hermione was all about combating injustice wherever she found it. Shouldn't the injustice being done to Harry make her feel something more than indifference?

"Basically isn't the same thing as actual," Hermione said. "Besides, she hasn't had sex with him, and I know she doesn't plan to until they're married. She wants to be pure for him."

Ron gritted his teeth. "But Hermione," he started.

She cut him off with a toss of her head. "Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Ron, and you should learn to understand that. Harry is one person. Voldemort will kill thousands, if not millions, if he conquers the world."

"I get that," Ron muttered. And he did get that, really he did. He just… he couldn't help but feel that this wasn't any better. Yes, the strategist in Ron could see why Harry needed to fight for the Light. He didn't like it, but he understood why it was necessary. He just… this wasn't necessary. This part of it, dating Ginny.

To Ron, that felt more vindictive than anything else. Harry had never shown any interest in his little sister before this, so it wasn't like Dumbledore was giving him one last chance at happiness before he died. It was just cruel, Ron thought.

But it was clear that Hermione disagreed, and Ron gave up on trying to convince her. He was well-aware of how difficult it was to change Hermione's mind once she'd gotten onto a subject. So instead of trying, he stood up and crossed the room, to where Ginny and Harry were cuddling on the couch.

Ginny's stare, when he loomed over them, was venomous. "Go away, Ron," she hissed. "Can't you see that Harry and I are in the middle of something?"

"I can see that you and Harry are in the middle of something that Mum might not approve of," Ron shot back. "Especially since you're sitting in public. Harry, mate, wanna play a round of chess?"

Harry's eyes went vague for just a second, something that Ron never would have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it. "Yeah," he said, bright and cheerful. "Chess sounds great, Ron. And Ginny, we could go to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

Ginny's blush would have been adorable if Ron didn't know that it wasn't really Harry making the offer. "I'd like that," she said, beaming, and slipped off of the couch. As she passed Ron, she said, "You know that I'm going to marry him, no matter how much you interfere. Mum's arranged it with Dumbledore." Before he could respond, she'd left the room.

Ron's heart dropped. Did she know? Did that mean that she knew that the Harry she cuddled with was just a puppet? The thought made his skin crawl, even as he set up the chess pieces. He started the game with Harry and tried to figure out what he was going to do. If Ginny knew what had been done to Harry, if she was dating him anyway…

Ron didn't know when his sister had become such a monster, but he'd never look at her the same way again.

It wasn't until halfway through the game that Ron realized that he was actually losing, because this Harry was actually good at chess. It wasn't much, but it was something that Dumbledore had gotten wrong. Ron wondered if there was any significance to it, and then he shoved the thoughts to one side.

It didn't matter, if that was the only thing that Dumbledore had gotten wrong. It wasn't like many people knew how bad Harry was at chess, anyway.

ooOOooOOoo

Malfoy returned to school on the first Friday of the year, looking pale and shaken. The entire Hall fell silent when he walked in, and Malfoy, shockingly, didn't take advantage of the limelight. He just shrunk in on himself, and looked almost hunted.

Ron almost felt sorry for him.

The Headmaster clearly took note of the notice that Malfoy was garnering, stood, and cleared his throat. When all eyes turned to him instead, Ron noticed that Malfoy practically scurried to sit with the other Slytherins, who welcomed him back with great dignity. They weren't surprised, but then, they wouldn't be. He'd probably arrived last night.

"As you can all see, Mr. Malfoy has returned to Hogwarts," the Headmaster announced, his voice grave. "I'm afraid that he's had a bit of a rough experience, so I ask that you all be kind to him when welcoming him back to the school. And perhaps you should all give him something of a second chance, since I'm quite certain that you'll find him a changed man."

Right. Malfoy, changed. Ron would believe that when he saw it.

He wondered where Malfoy had been, what he'd been up to after Harry had been recaptured, and found himself unable to stop wondering. Malfoy looked… tired. Worn down, like he was desperate. Desperate men, Ron believed, were dangerous. There was never any telling what they were up to, and he suspected that he wanted to know what Malfoy was up to.

Especially since, when they got up after breakfast, Malfoy half-stood as well. He looked like he was considering walking towards them, but he glanced at the head table and sank back down into his chair with drooping shoulders. As Ron watched, Malfoy picked up a fork and started to toy with the eggs on his plate. He wasn't sure, but he thought he was the only one who noticed that the fork Malfoy was using never actually rose to his lips.

Something was going on with him, but Ron forced it out of his mind. He was worried about Harry, and couldn't worry about Malfoy right now. He didn't even like the other boy, so why should he care what was wrong with him? Unless it was going to affect Harry, either by making things worse for his friend or by fixing him, Ron didn't have time for it. And he couldn't imagine that Malfoy had any interest in fixing Harry.

A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Harry had been with Malfoy for at least part of the summer. He brushed it aside. He had no idea how that had gone, and Harry couldn't exactly tell him the truth about it.

Malfoy couldn't possibly want to help Harry, Ron knew that to be true.

Then came Potions, the first and only class that Gryffindor had with Slytherin this year, and the first time that Malfoy got close to them. Ron wasn't expecting much of anything, much less for Malfoy to step forward and breathe Harry's name while Hermione was still outside, talking with Neville about something.

"Did you need something, Malfoy?" Harry asked coldly.

Ron watched Malfoy's face fall, and then watched as a mask of neutrality fall over the blonde's face. "Just sad to see rumors of your demise were exaggerated," Malfoy said, just as coldly, before going to his old seat, next to Daphne Greengrass, who placed a gentle hand on his arm and squeezed.

Malfoy may be pretending to be unaffected by Harry's coldness, but Ron had seen. He'd seen Malfoy's face fall, had seen the pain in his eyes, and he wondered.

Had something happened between Harry and Malfoy during the summer? Had Malfoy become a friend to Harry, somehow? All evidence pointed to yes. Ron supposed he should report that to the Headmaster, assuming the old man didn't already know, but…

But no. Not if there was a chance that he could use Malfoy to get Harry out of this. Ron supposed that just watching for a bit wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

ooOOooOOoo

It happened for the first time on the second Thursday of the school year, when Ron, Hermione, and Harry were sitting around in the library. Hermione was studying for an Ancient Runes paper that had already been assigned, while Harry skimmed through a Defense book.

Ron, on the other hand, was just watching the two of them. He was pretending to read another book on Defense, but it wasn't holding his attention. Instead, he watched as Harry went to make a note of something he'd read in the book when Harry's hand twitched out of control, the quill going flying across the page in a messy scrawl.

Ron could only just read the word that was written, a shaky and messy help before Harry's hand twitched again and the jar of ink spilled all over the page and all over the table. Hermione jumped up as some of it landed on her, and she turned accusing eyes on Harry.

"You need to be more careful," she said, chiding. And then she noticed the parchment, and her eyes narrowed. The word was mostly covered by the ink spill, but it was still legible. "Oh, Harry," she said, and there was something aching and sympathetic in her voice.

"Is the ritual losing its effect?" Ron asked, a bit shakily. He hoped so. Merlin, he hoped so. Harry didn't deserve to be caged like this.

"If it is, we'll have to tell Dumbledore," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "Harry can't be trusted on his own, Ron, you know that."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, to point out that there was no need to tell Dumbledore of anything, not after one small incident, but he knew that Hermione wouldn't agree with him and would just go to Dumbledore anyway. And protesting would just mean that Hermione would report it to Dumbledore, and Ron would be put in a similar situation.

He sighed. "Right," he muttered, and looked down at the spilled ink that Harry was mechanically cleaning up.

When they escorted Harry to the Headmaster's office, the man was gravely concerned, and Ron got to watch in horror as the ritual was performed to bind Harry once more. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that he could see Harry, the real Harry, behind the puppet's eyes.

Harry was screaming, and Ron couldn't hear him. His lips weren't even twitching.

Ron couldn't be sure, but he was almost positive that he hated Dumbledore in those moments. He looked at the old Headmaster, who he'd once seen as a benevolent, well-intentioned old man, and thought that he might actually be worse than Voldemort.

And he looked at Hermione, who was so self-righteously superior, and wondered if maybe Voldemort didn't have the right idea about muggleborns, too.

That frightened him, because he knew that Hermione wasn't representative of all muggleborns, and knew that he didn't actually want them all to be exterminated. He was just so angry, and didn't know what he was going to do about it.

In some ways, even though he was technically free to do as he pleased, Ron thought that he might be just as imprisoned as Harry was.