There were times when Ron wished he didn't have to get tangled in this huge mess that was Harry Potter. He was just a spoiled brat who was teribbly afraid of getting hurt. There were a lot of things he wanted in this world (greed devoured his mind the same way it gnawed at any pureblood's), but constantly risking his life just to make his best friend his happy was not on the list.
At nights, Ron opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Having just woken up from nightmare, he wondered what was it that he actually wanted.
Harry hadn't been replying his letter. The bastards who dared to call themselves his guardian probably was abusing him right now as he slept comfortably and just the thought of it left him feeling tormented. Ron didn't know much about true pain (the kind of pain that lasted a permanent on the heart, the torturing moment that couldn't be forgotten), never really had the chance to experience it.
Until he met the famous Boy-Who-Lived who turned to be so much more underneath (so much scattered pieces and Ron couldn't even touch any of it).
This one nightmare was particularly awful, about Harry killing all his family in one big explosion, and the scenery of his burning home suddenly changed into the blurred memory of Harry trembling on the floor they weren't supposed to step into. And Ron was both feeling proud and annoyed at himself that in the end, in that dream, he still chose to stay with Harry.
Why? Ron stared at his hands. They were trembling. What do I want the most?
Because Harry looked unbearably pitiful and Ron just couldn't help himself. At the time, Harry looked like a broken doll got thrown away on the side road, with his messy clothes and expression that didn't reveal anything. Ron bet all his money that his parent would be disappointed if he left this kid (a child, he looked just like a lost child) alone.
Ron sighed. He had to make a decision.
(He was a pureblood, so greedy just like the rest of his kind, but he was also a Weasley and a true Weasley never abandoned any child.)
.
.
They locked him up. Those bastards locked him up.
Ron smiled at Harry and told him stories, everything to make those dull eyes brightened up, to give the feeling of safety and belonging. Merlin knew the child deserved it. That night, he punched the wall so hard he broke his arm.
Fred and George were the only one who knew Harry's situation (the bars on the window and the shouting were kind of give it away), and yet they weren't the only ones who understood why Ron went to the dining room with a bloodied palm the next morning.
Molly didn't comment on the bruise. She talked to Harry with the smoothest tone, giving him her gentlest smile. It was probably maternal instinct, the intuition that only a mother could have. She scolded them about sneaking away the night before but Ron knew that she was the one who felt the most relieved about it.
.
.
Shopping in the Diagon Alley was supposed to be a happy trip. Ron was still shaken up about what he had witnessed that night, but Harry was even more vulnerable now that he got exposed to a completely different environment. He was hoping the trip would do them any good.
Of course, Lucious Malfoy just had to show up and make them miserable. And Lockhart was such a dick.
There was a shop got blown up three hours after they left Diagon Alley which just happened to have the head of Malfoy in it.
And Ron was ready to scold Harry about it (he was sure it was Harry's doing, no one could blow up a shop without any trace of magic or evidence like an Obscurus) but he stopped himself as he stared at his best friend, hands trembling and eyes full of guilt.
"I am sorry," he said. He didn't look like a moving doll. He looked like a child who was ready to be thrown away many times over.
"It's okay, Harry," Ron said, his mind blanked out at the sight Harry at the verge of breaking down. Then, quoting Hermione, "We can fix this."
He was both proud and annoyed at himself.
.
.
Ron could explain why he had to fly away all the way from the station to Hogwart. He could explain the lost flying car. Could explain truthfully the incident from the start to finish in detail.
Except the part where Harry single-handedly destroyed the legendary tree in his panic that would have got anyone else killed.
"Something destroy it. I don't know what. It's big and scary," Ron said nervously, his palm sweating.
"Big and scary, eh?" Snape glanced at Harry pointedly. Ron made a concious effort to hide Harry away from the sharp dark eyes.
Thankfully, the interrogation was over the moment they stepped into Great Hall. Hermione waved at them from the Gryffindor table, looking pale and obviously worried.
"Potter," Snape said. He paused, seemingly hesitated to say something.
"I am perfectly fine, sir," Harry said. He left before Snape could respond and Ron quickly trailed after him. He glanced behind to see that Snape's eyes were tracking them. It sent shiver down his spine.
It felt as if Snape was looking at his soul.
.
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"Snape knows what I am."
Ron choked on his drink. Hermione dropped her book, her body froze.
"But, Harry," Ron said, his throat burning, "There's no way he knows that you're an Obs-"
"Ron!" Hermione shouted, her head spinning to check the surrounding.
Luckily, the room was totally crowded tonight. Students were chattering and minding their own business. No one was paying attention to them.
"Snape can look directly into me," Harry continued casually, as if they were talking about the weather. "From the first time he laid his eyes on me, he can see the Obscurus-"
"Harry!"
"-inside me."
"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Ron asked, feeling betrayed.
"Because I wasn't so sure. If Snape knew about the Obscurus-"
"Harry," Hermione practically plead.
"-why would he keep it as a secret? He doesn't have any reason to."
Ron pinched his nose. "So we have to be worried about Snape too? On top of worrying about the petrified students and the chamber?"
Hermione then announced her plan, about the appearance-altering potion and how they would fish out information out of Malfoy, the prime suspect. Ron occasionally added suggestions, like how they would steal the ingredients. They decided to deal with Snape later, at least until the mystery of the chamber was taken care of.
Harry just sat still and listened to them with a strange look of wonder in his face.
.
.
"You guys really aren't scared of me, are you?" Harry said, out of nowhere. His eyes were back its usual doll-like gazes. He really looked like a doll when he was in that state, even as his hands busy treating the Mandrakes.
"Harry," Hermione said. She sounded like she was going to cry. It wouldn't be the first nor the last time it happened.
"No, Hermione, listen to me," Harry said, smiling that fake sickening smile. He snapped, Ron noted, feeling strangely relieved. The rumours about the chambers had finally gotten to him. Still a human who could express hurt and anger without literally blowing up. "How could you guys know that I am not the one who petrify those students? How could you guys be so sure?"
"Harry," Hermione sighed. "That's not the kind of power you have. I have studied it all. I'll know right away if it's you."
"But I am still dangerous."
Ron snorted. "You're just Harry Potter. Not some kind of three-headed beast or a berserker tree."
Just a child. If only everyone else could see the same. The gossipers had never been kind to Harry and now the rumours were downright laughably ruthless.
Harry shook his head, looking exasperated now, which only made both Ron and Hermione feel glad because any expression would look better on Harry than the lifeless mask.
.
.
Ron swore he would rip off Lockhart's arm one day. After the Quidditch incident that left Harry's arm bones mysteriously disappear, both Hermione and Ron hadn't particularly keen on letting Lockhart went anywhere near Harry. Ron hadn't really like the man on the first place and Hermione had completely stopped fangirling over him.
The Quidditch incident that no one wanted to talk about was as disastrous as it could be but it wasn't nowhere as harmful as the small thornado ("It wasn't just a simple thornado, was it?" "No, it wasn't.") at the following day that left the field completely trashed. Ron didn't blame Harry who was constanly complaining about the pain in his arm, but he did blame Lockhart for the ensuing mess. Hermione theoritized that the thornado was probably triggered by shock and Harry himself wasn't even aware of it, so really it was all Lockhart's fault.
The next time the obnoxious proffessor walked out to his class, Ron swung his hand around Harry's shoulder and gave the man his most charming smile before Lockhart could even mutter Harry's name. Ron beared his teeth, challenging. Luckily for all the party involved, Lockhart got the message and didn't talk or glance to Harry at all for the rest of the lesson. Ron would feel bad if he really had to break Lockhart's arm. Not that he would regret it though.
.
.
Hagrid told them that a small portion of the forest was wiped out in one night. He said that he had never seen such a big-scale destruction like that before.
"The dragon's attack is nothing compared to this," Hagrid shook his head. He sounded fascinated.
Of course, Ron thought bitterly. Hagrid has seen many things but he probably never meet a living Obscurus before.
The thing was, Ron had seen it coming but he couldn't stop it. Neither did Harry with all his attempt at repressing his rage and guilt ("She's attacked because she's hanging around me!""That's not true, Harry!"). It was a miracle that Harry could still control himself to not blow up the whole school.
"We can fix this, Harry," Ron said, determined. "We'll save Hermione. Together."
Harry looked away, biting his lips. "But if you get hurt too, Ron, I can't-"
"It's okay," Ron said with the confidence he didn't feel. "We will fix this."
.
.
In the end, Ron was the most useless human being on earth. Hermione was back to normal, Ginny was saved, the rumours had died down, but the chamber and the spider's gigantic nest (Hagrid would be devastated when he was released from Azkaban) were gone as if it never existed. And since the fight againts the Basilisk, Ron had never once see Harry expressed his emotion properly again.
Probably because he was busy bottling up all his negative feelings.
Damn. Back to square one.
Ron was starting to see a pattern.
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