Summary:
Classes are different, this go around.
Or: uhhh Sad Times To Be Had Sorry
They arrived at Professor McGonagall's classroom just as the class started. She sighed, half-told-them-off, half-reassured them that they'd learn the layout of the school soon, and then the class started.
... Nothing like how Ron remembered them to have started.
"Today, we will be learning liquify," McGonagall said, primly, as if liquify was a spell that existed.
"Repeat after me," She said, and raised her wand. She pointed it at a small block of wood on her desk, sat in a glass bowl, probably so that they could see the transformation. "Liquify," She intoned, waving her wand about like - it was an attempt to mimic the way the ocean's waves hit the shoreline. The block of wood - some small children's toy with letters on the faces - suddenly melted down, impossibly, to liquid wood. There is a spell to change a solid to a liquid, to vapour, to whatever you wanted, but - it certainly wasn't liquify, and it certainly wasn't a first-year spell.
Everyone raised their wands, repeated the motion exactly, and intoned 'liquify' with the exact same inflection as McGonagall had.
Ron shuddered.
"Good," The professor said, pleased. "Now. We will start the lesson. There is a trial behind this portrait," She said, gesturing behind herself. "of simple obstacles to acclimatise you to how we teach, here, at Hogwarts. At the end, there is a spellbook, which will teach you how to transform a living creature into an inanimate object and back. You will need to use liquify to bypass the challenges I have set to reach it - and the book's spell in order to finish the course as it is intended to be completed. By the end of the lesson, I expect a mastery of both spells. Everyone, form a line by alphabetical order of last names," She gestured, and everyone rushed to comply.
What the fuck?
Ron blinked in confusion, as Harry dragged him over to the line. Everyone shuffled around until they were lined up properly - They shared Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, this time around, and so Ron was pretty low down on the list. In fact, he was the last.
... It was weird, still, Ron thought, to not see Hermione's bushy hair anywhere in the classroom.
Ron blanked out what was occurring, as standing in a line is dreadfully dull, in order to consider what the fuck was happening.
You're in a game, dipshit.
Ron scowled at the notification and thought it gone. He knew he was in a game, alright; he didn't need the reminder.
No - that's why it's like this. A normal lesson is boring as fuck. So we made it a more entertaining experience. A level, in a video-game. Look, all the official Harry Potter games do this. At least, the good ones.
What?
Don't mind that. The point is - sitting in a classroom for an hour? Dull. Puzzling your way through various challenges to win a reward? Exciting! That's why. Carry on.
The notifi-scroll disappeared, and Ron was left to wait his turn at the obstacle course. It wasn't like Ron hadn't done anything like this before - in fact, it was probably going to be a lot like Professor Lupin's end-of-year exam, with various things in the way of a set goal, but - well, easier, since it's not an exam. Ron rather thinks she's got a lot higher expectations than she did originally, though.
The order went like this:
Abbot, Hannah - who did alright, since she walked out seemingly not upset.
Bones, Susan - who did well, given her pleased expression.
... Brown, Lavender - who didn't do too great, unfortunately.
Dunbar, Fay - who did badly, if her tears were anything to go by. Ron felt pretty bad for her, not least because she went all red in the face when she saw them all staring.
Finch-Fletchley, Justin - Who. Managed, to put it politely.
Finnegan, Seamus - Who walked out with a big smile on his face, so guesses are to how he did.
Hopkins, Wayne - who failed miserably, and had to be escorted off to see Madam Pomfrey.
Jones, Megan - Who took the least time so far to finish, and apparently did the best, though she'd melted her shoes by accident.
Longbottom, Neville - Oh, Neville. He didn't do too well.
Macmillan, Ernie - It was Ernie.
Midgen, Eloise - She did very well, frankly.
Patil, Parvati - the hem of her robes was singed, for some reason, but she looked decently pleased with her time.
And then it was Harry's turn. Ron had been kind of wanting a way to watch the proceedings so far, anyway - it was a bit too much like how, as a spectator, he hadn't really been able to see anything that was going on during the third task of the Triwizard tournament than he would like, and the last time Harry had disappeared out of his sight for a trial hadn't gone super well - but this was nothing like that, so mostly, Ron was just bored.
Harry, being short and all, stumbled as he dropped out of the portrait he'd had to clamber into. He looked a bit singed and a bit damp, but otherwise no worse for wear, and though he looked a little nervous in a vaguely anxious way, McGonagall had that firm-but-soft-and-proud look in her eyes, which meant he probably did just fine.
Also, given Harry's parents were her students - and some of her favourites, at that - and now they're dead, and all, McGonagall has always had a bit of a soft spot for Harry.
After Harry's turn, went Leanne Richards and Dean Thomas, and then, finally, it was Ron's turn.
Ron went through the portrait, which closed shut, loudly, with a tone of finality, behind him.
"Your task is to navigate the obstacles before you, and reach the spell tome on the pedestal," McGonagall's voice echoed, seemingly from nowhere. "There are also extra rewards if you find all of the hogwarts crest pieces hidden throughout the trial. Speed, health, amount completed, and other such things will raise your score. Damage, items left behind, enemies not defeated, and being slow, will lower your score. May the trail begin."
The door in front of him opened. Ron stepped through, cautiously, and only jumped slightly when it slammed shut behind him with a great bang.
In front of him was a set of platforms. Moving platforms.
"Save," Ron said, under his breath, very quickly. The game saved, and Ron was still faced with moving platforms, which... fucking brilliant, great.
Ron looked around. He was stood in a hallway, mostly made of moving platforms, with pools of liquid wood on top of some of them. Ron concluded that there had been something on them - made of wood - that had had to be melted to use the platforms, which seemed dangerous and stupid since they were situated in mid-air over an endless drop into the deep, black void, but... sure. That was 'doable'.
After all, his entire class had already done it, right? And Ron had a whole decade on them. So it shouldn't be impossible.
Plus, they've already done half the work for me.
Ron took a breath, readied himself, and made a running jump. He landed, precariously, on the first platform.
Jumping skill unlocked!
Landing skill unlocked!
Shit, Ron thought, I don't know how to jump.
And he couldn't grind it, either; every move he made, a turn was added to the counter in the top right of his vision. Ron figured the higher the score, the higher the 'time' it was taking him to complete the course.
Ron grimaced. He'd just have to risk it.
Ron took a breath, placed one foot backwards, leaned into it, and then made the jump when the next platform was almost at the point where it was closest to his current one. He stumbled on the landing, panicked, and only just managed to catch himself before he fell into the darkness below.
Ron shuddered and decided to avoid looking down at all costs from then on.
Ron looked across at the rest of the hallway; it was three more platforms; the last one hit a wall, and Ron figured you had to use that one to turn the corner.
So Ron did. He jumped, and jumped, and landed on the third one - and then turned, and saw the next jump was fucking double the distance.
Ron swore, very loudly.
"Language, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the hallway.
Ron swore again, but quieter.
He couldn't use any of his extra abilities, could he? He wasn't sure. Was she actually 100% aware of everything going on? He couldn't explain gravity punch, which he might be able to use to traverse that distance. He couldn't explain summoning Red, who'd been conspicuously but unquestioningly absent from the lesson. He couldn't explain anything he could do outside of what he should be able to do - and Ron wasn't sure how the game worked? Would he need to explain it?
If this were real life, he would. But it isn't. So this is a question he has to ask.
And... there's no real way to get an answer without trying, is there?
Plus, he's saved. So...
Ron took a breath. Gravity Punch! He thought, very loudly, and then flung himself into the air. He aimed his descent onto the moving platform, and missed.
Ron swore, scrambled his grip onto the slippery wood - people have already done the course, Ron thought, with dawning horror. He's got fewer challenges than they did, but he's got their leftovers, too.
Ron gulped. He pulled himself onto the platform, hands sticky with liquid wood, which he wiped on his robes absently as he surveyed the hall before him.
Five more platforms, one with a box still on. A small crawlspace in the wall, halfway up - jumpable, from the top of the box, which is probably why it wasn't melted. The crawlspace probably contained one of those crest pieces McGonagall was talking about.
Ron sighed, and readied himself. He saved the game, just in case, then made the jump to the next platform without stumbling. He jumped to the next one - which was covered in liquid wood. He slipped slammed his nose onto the hard surface (Damage taken! -10 HP!) and slid slowly backwards, as his legs were hanging off the end.
Ron groaned in pain as he pulled himself more securely onto the platform. He grimaced, mentally; he could tell a broken nose from a bruised one, and this was definitely broken. Ron carefully pulled himself to a standing position, wincing at the throbbing of his nose as he went.
Ron sighed, took out his wand. "Episkey," He managed and grunted at the crack with which his nose snapped back into place. "Tergo," He said, and the blood was cleaned away.
Ron made the next jump with minimal fanfare (perhaps some arm wheeling to regain his balance, but that was neither here nor there) and then turned to face the proper challenge.
"Save," Ron said, and then jumped to the box. He didn't grab it properly, and his stomach dropped as he went free-falling into the blackness below, the light of the hallway above getting smaller and smaller as it got further and further away -
Ron dry-heaved as he crashed against the wall, having been transported to the last 'checkpoint', according to a notification in the top left; the beginning of the course.
In missions like this, there are checkpoints, though you can always load a save. This is like - just in case you forgot to make one of those, you know? You are on Easy, after all.
Ron dismissed the scroll, grimacing at the taste of bile in the back of his throat. That was not a pleasant experience.
Ron loaded the save; he blinked, and he was back on the platform, facing the box.
"Okay," Ron said, and then jumped again. He missed.
Load. Jump. Miss. Load. Jump. Miss. Load. Jump. Grab, but fall. Load, Jump; grap, pull up, box wobbles, Ron wobbles, slips, falls. Load. Jump. Fall. Load. Jump. Fall.
Load.
Jump.
Fall.
"Fuck this," Ron said, and wingardium leviosa-d himself, which flung him rather unceremoniously towards the crawlspace in the wall. He managed to grab onto the ledge and use his momentum to throw himself forward, into the space, and then he caught his breath.
Ron is cheating, from now on, he decided, because this whole mission was bullshit. Also, him not having any jumping or landing skill was bullshit. In fact, Ron not levelling up from that dungeon was bullshit.
This whole game, and the gamemasters who made it, was and is and are bullshit.
Hey, fuck you too.
Ron scowled, dismissed the notifi-scroll, and crawled through the tunnel into a room. He picked up the crest, which glowed so bright he had to look away, and was gone when he turned his gaze back towards where it had been situated in his grasp.
"One out of four crest pieces," McGonagall's voice echoed.
"Great," Ron grumbled. He looked around the room, but the only way out was back through the crawlspace. Ron sighed, saved, and then went and dropped down onto the box. It wobbled, but he managed to keep his balance, and then he jumped to the final ledge of the hallway. After going through the door that led to the next section Ron sighed in relief; no more platforms.
Ron saved, just in case, again.
The room he found himself in was cavernous and ridiculous, and, alas, there actually were platforms, just not the ones he'd been using recently - more naturalistic ones that blended in with the environment, but were yet still a clear path to follow.
And there were wooden golems stomping around. One was on fire. That was probably Parvati's doing since she was singed - or Seamus' doing, given his grin, and she got singed because he'd done that.
Grand.
There were more puddles of liquid wood, which probably meant there had been more, and now Ron's respect for Hannah had gone up, since she'd been first and had to deal with all the bullshit McGonagall had decided to throw at a bunch of eleven-year-olds.
At least Hogwarts had no intention of pretending to be safe, this time around, Ron supposed. That way these kids would be prepared, better, for when You-Know-Who comes knocking.
Ron sighed and lifted his wand. "Liquify," He said, feeling ridiculous, waving his wand in that imitation-of-ocean-waves way McGonagall had (or at least a close approximation), and the Golem closest to him turned into a puddle of sticky wood liquid.
Ron grimaced as the human-like figure melted down, wood groaning and complaining all the while. He sighed and did the same to the other Golems, since he didn't fancy being set on fire or otherwise attacked, and then set about seeing if he could find any hidden Crests on the ground floor of this giant circular platforming puzzle.
Ron found nothing, then admitted to himself he was just stalling.
The first rung on the ladder of the platforming course was simple; Ron pulled himself up a ledge, then another, then another. He then used wingardium leviosa to launch himself upwards onto another ledge, thereby bypassing a few stages of precarious wall-hugging ledge-walking. The wall looked sufficiently damaged enough to climb, and Ron reasoned it wasn't much different to climbing the big old trees in the forest back home, like what he'd done with Ginny fairly often in his original childhood before the forest was a wild area and nobody acted like how he remembered for a good while.
Ron clambered up the rock, fingers protesting the strain of holding his body up, but he managed, and then pulled himself up onto a beam that stuck out from the wall.
Think of it like climbing a tree, Ron thought to himself. Ledges and beams are branches. Platforms are boughs. Walls are bark and trunks and such.
Ron bit his lip in consternation and consideration, then saved. He took the path to the left; up the wall, onto a beam, up the wall, onto a beam, across the beam. Ron took a breath, as he eyed the gap; he could jump it, but he'd have to catch himself on the next beam. It wouldn't be a landing - it'd be a grab. Maybe even a swing...
Ron swallowed, stood, stepped carefully back, and then took a running jump at the next beam. His hands protested the collision, but he caught it, which was great but the momentum forced him to swing and his body's lack of skill (strength check failed!) made him let go as he swung forward. Ron scrambled against the wall and managed to dig his fingers into a crack, but from there?
Ron could see a couple options; load a save, try and fling himself to the beam on the right, that was slightly higher up than he was right now or fall to his death.
That last one wasn't an option, per se - just something that could reasonably happen.
"Bugger this," Ron muttered, and loaded the save he'd made. He tried the running jump, again, but failed the strength check again - however, he didn't manage to grab onto the wall this time (climbing skill check; failed!) and simply fell.
Ron quickly loaded a save as the floor approached, because he didn't fancy finding out how it felt to die by having all your bones broken as your body crumpled to the ground after a thirty-foot drop.
Seriously, this room was ridiculous.
Ron did the jump again, and managed to stay holding onto the beam, though his arms strained with the effort. He quickly pulled himself on top of it - and from there, he could see the landing platform that would continue the trial, and the 'secret' room that would likely contain the next crest piece.
Ron saved. He'd give it a good go, but he wasn't going to stick on this forever. Three chances, and if he didn't get in the crawlspace, he was moving on with this shit.
He flung himself with wingardium leviosa... then flung himself again, and agin, and again, until he was on the other side of the tower, fingers latched onto the ivy covering the wall the secret crawlspace was located in.
Ron climbed the ivy, pulled himself into the crawlspace, and then decided he didn't give a shit about how long this took, and had a rest. His turns ticked up, slowly, but he didn't care - he sat there for a good ten minutes. He ate a piece of pie he'd saved from the feast, for the hell of it, because it was good pie, and he should really need something good to eat after all what he'd just done. He had a drink. He ate a biscuit. He leaned against the wall, legs half-bent, feet planted on the ground, the tips of his shoes touching the other side of the tunnel. He rested because he deserved to, damnit, he's physically eleven years old, and this shit was physical in a way he rarely had to do in his previous life. In fact, he'd never had to do, in his previous life. Their lives were dangerous, but not platforming-over-the-void levels of dangerous.
Once he'd wasted a good five turns, Ron cralwed through the dark, damp hallway. His hair brushed against the ceiling, probably getting somewhat drenched, but he didn't rightly care; he just crawled until he found the rest room, grabbed the crest, then went on his merry way. The platform, thankfully, was just to the left of where he was now, so he dropped down on it after descending the ivy. Through the door was a chamber, thank fuck, and the book was sat innocently on a pedestal, as McGonagall had said it would be.
Ron read the book.
Spell aquired! Transmogrify!
What the fuck?
Ron sighed, turned sharply left, and walked through the door.
There were a lot of teacups on fire in here, Ron noted, absently. "Nope," He said, and simply walked very quickly through the room, towards the door.
Ha. As if he'd be so lucky.
"Red," Ron called out, very tired by this point.
He watched his body down below say the word, as Red materialised next to him. "Wondered when I'd see you next," She said. "Do you need me to kill something?"
"No," Ron said, very quickly, because he wasn't that tired of this shit. "Just help me fight that."
He pointed to the fire salamander. Why there was a fire salamander here, Ron didn't want to know.
"Oh, okay," Red said.
"Ron, cast 'aguamenti' on the fire salamander," Ron said. Ron did so, and the creature was 'put out', and very angry because of it.
"Red, punch the fire salamander," Ron said, and she did. The fire salamander smacked her with it's tail, and then Ron made himself transfigure the creature into a very shoddy trunk. It still had a tail, but he didn't care, and it was stall covered in scales, and he didn't care, and the combat was over. Ron walked over to the door.
"Can I keep this?" Red asked. Ron did not reply, so she shrugged, picked up the salamander trunk, and put it in her inventory.
Ron left the trial room, and slammed the door behind himself.
Ron saved the game. He simply walked out of the classroom, and nobody seemed to care or to notice.
Ron ran a hand through his grossly damp hair - there was probably something in the tunnel, he figured, that had been 'liquified'. It was probably what had made Harry's hair damp, too, he realised, dimly. Oh well.
Ron walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts, down the grand staircase, which seemed to be in a good mood today as it didn't go in a random direction, and then exited the side door out to the owlery. Ron took out a piece of parchment and a dicta-quill he'd looted from his bedside table, and composed a letter to Ginny as he went, because he figured he should, you know.
He hadn't, really, last time.
Ron explained what had happened, very distinctly, with far more swear words than he really should, given Ginny was ten, but also, Ginny would have probably used more. So it didn't matter, did it?
Not the least because it wasn't actually Ginny. Rather ironically, it was a bit more like venting to a diary that talks back than anything else, wasn't it? Don't trust anything sentient when you don't know where its brain is.
Thing is, if Ron did that, then he woudn't be able to talk to anyone. Sure, cut these people's skulls open, you'll find a brain - but that's not where the code is stored. The code that makes them walk and talk and act like the people he knew, Before... that's their brain. And he's no idea where that is.
Ron attached the letter to Errol, who hooted sadly, smacked into the window frame, and then flew haltingly off into the horizon. Ron sighed, leaned on the stone window sill, and watched him go.
A/N: And here's where I'm up to on AO3.