To anyone who has followed or favorited this story so far, thank you so much!
And now, a review response:
JustVildaPotter: (Chapter 1 review) I'm so glad the year was worth the wait! I've had this idea sitting around for a while now, but I didn't have the motivation to actually write it down. But now, here it is! (Chapter 2 review) I'm happy you like all those things. Gilderoy Lockhart being Harry's doctor is one of my favorite parts of putting the wizarding world into the Muggle world. Yay, you liked everything! I'm hoping you'll enjoy this next chapter just as much.
Now, on with the story!Chapter Three: Ron
August, 1994
"Ronald Weasley! Answer the blasted phone!" Ron shook himself awake at the sound of his brother yelling from the kitchen. He sat up, and picked up the incessantly ringing phone that sat on a table next to the couch. He held it away from the receiver for a few seconds before slamming it back down. He sincerely hoped that Hermione would take the hint this time, despite the fact that she hadn't the last fifty times she'd tried calling. Ron wondered if his friend had gone to sleep at all. She must have at some point, he thought to himself, otherwise Percy would have been yelling at me much sooner.
As this thought, Ron's eighteen-year-old brother appeared in the living room, holding a coffee mug and looking as if he needed more than the few hours of sleep he'd just had.
"Morning," said Ron in a pleasant tone, trying not to annoy his brother further.
"I hope you told Hermione to stop calling," said Percy, sinking into an armchair. "And it's afternoon, by the way."
"How do you know it was Hermione?" Ron asked. "It could have been someone trying to sell us something."
"Well, was it?" Ron did not reply. Percy went on. "Unless I'm quite mistaken, you haven't got any other friends, and aside from that, Hermione Granger is the only person I know who can call consistently every five minutes." Ron still didn't say anything. "What was it she wanted?"
Ron stared at a spot on the wall in front of him to avoid looking at Percy. "She wants me to go visit Harry in the hospital. She says he's woken up."
"That's true, I forgot to tell you last night. I assume you're planning on going today?"
"No. Why would I be?"
Percy sighed. "Come on Ron, you aren't still mad at him about... whatever it was you were mad at him for, are you?"
"I just don't want to see him, and I wish everyone would stop pestering me about it."
"Ron-"
Ron jumped up. "I'm not going to visit him, okay? Stop asking." He crossed the living room to the stairs leading to the two upper floors of the Weasley home. Running up as fast as he could, taking the steps two at a time, Ron slipped through the door to the attic.
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July, 1992
"My room is all the way at the top," Ron told Harry as they climbed the stairs. "We only had so many rooms on the second floor, and none of my older brothers wanted to share, so Ginny and I ended up here." Ron pulled open the door to the house's large attic. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to your room at home," he added, watching his friend take in the front half of the space, which was covered in bright orange posters for Ron's favorite sports team.
"I think it's brilliant," said Harry, smiling at Ron. "It's loads bigger than my room at home. And you have someone else to share it with." He gestured to the curtain that separated Ron's half from Ginny's.
"Please. I wish I had my own room. It's always so loud here, especially when Fred and George bring their friends over, which is all the time. And we're right above Dad's workroom. He's always making noise with whatever he's fixing, and then Mum comes up and shouts at him to be quiet."
"Where is your Mum today?" Harry asked.
"Oh..." said Ron awkwardly. "She's gone out with Ginny. They're, um, shopping. Yeah, school shopping."
"I thought we were all going together on Friday," said Harry, giving Ron a confused look.
"Right!" Ron laughed nervously. "To be honest, I've completely forgotten what they went out to do, but I'm sure they'll be back soon."
Harry didn't seem to realize that Ron was lying to him, which Ron was relieved to see. "Until then, you can enjoy having your room to yourself."
"Yes!" Ron grinned, and slid over the bed to grab the chess set sitting on a shelf on the opposite side. "I hereby challenge you to a battle."
Harry quickly took a seat on the bedroom floor. "Challenge accepted."
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The attic door creaked open, and Ron turned his head to see who had entered.
"Knock knock," George said, tapping on the doorframe.
Ron sighed. "Come in."
George closed the door behind him and took a seat on the end of the bed. "Hermione keeps calling you. It sounds like she really needs to discuss something."
"She still hasn't realized that I don't give a crap?" Ron asked, sitting up in a cross-legged position.
"That's a bit harsh. What if it's something important?"
"It isn't." Ron stared at his knees.
"Right, well, you should at least tell her you don't care."
"She'll figure it out."
George shook his head. He knew this conversation was going nowhere. He turned his gaze to the curtain that cut the room in half. "You know, if you wanted to, we could make this room bigger. It's probably about time."
"I'm fine with my room as is, thanks."
"Ron, I really think you should-"
"Why does everyone keep trying to get me to change everything? I like things the way they are, is that so hard to understand?"
"We're only trying to help you, Ron, but you're so stubborn."
"I'm stubborn? What about Mum? I don't see you trying to get her to move on with her life."
"That's different. A lot has happened in the last year, and-"
"Yeah, a lot happened to all of us. But I guess Mum's the only one who's allowed to care at all, is she?"
"That's not what I said."
Ron stood up. "You know what? I think I will go talk to Hermione. At least I'll be talking to someone who actually wants to hear what I have to say."
"I've been trying to talk to you!" George protested, but Ron had already stormed downstairs.
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August, 1992
An argument had broken out over breakfast, as per usual for the Weasleys. The subjects of this argument were, of course, Molly and the twins. Apparently, they had stolen the car and taken it to a friend's party late the previous night. Molly was shouting at them, telling them they were reckless, that they could have been seriously hurt, and that they were much too young to be doing either of those activities. Fred laughed this off in the carefree way of his, which only made Molly angrier. As she reprimanded his twin, George had a guilty look on his face, as if he seriously regretted what the two of them had done. However, this expression vanished the second Molly turned her wrath on George, at which point he quickly started going along with whatever Fred had been saying.
Ron barely paid attention to the scuffle; he was used to it, after all, and wanted to focus on his breakfast instead. Across from him, Harry was watching the argument with concern, and Ginny was leaning her head on her hand, with the look of someone who was attempting to sleep but was being prevented from doing so.
"Must this happen every morning?" She asked sleepily.
"This happens every morning?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Just about," said Ron, focusing on his sister. "Ginny, you alright?"
She nodded. "I'm a bit tired, that's all."
"You should go rest."
"I'm fine, really."
"But yesterday-"
"I thought you didn't want to talk about yesterday," Ginny accused in a hushed tone, looking toward Harry, who was still amazed by the argument.
"Right." Ron returned to his breakfast. He continued to glance at Ginny every few minutes, unable to shake the worries he was keeping hidden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Ron didn't go to Hermione's house right away. For a while he wandered around the neighborhood, fuming about his conversations with George and Percy. It was only after he realized he had walked the same route at least three times that he figured he had better actually go visit his friend.
Hermione's house was a large, two story home, situated in the part of the neighborhood that separated the richest families with the biggest houses from the middle class families or poor families like Ron's. Hermione had a bedroom on the top floor, and Ron would have greatly enjoyed standing on her lawn throwing pebbles at the window to catch her attention. To his disappointment, she was sitting outside on the porch when he arrived. As usual, his friend was immersed in a book. Her head was tilted down, and her extremely bushy, dark hair surrounded every bit of her face, blocking all peripheral vision.
"Hey," Ron said, standing at the bottom of her front steps and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Hermione looked up from her book and turned to face him. Her chocolate brown eyes had a slightly angry look in them. "You've finally decided to talk to me. Thanks for returning my calls, by the way."
"I'm sorry."
"You know I hate it when you act like this."
"Go on, say it: I'm a prat."
Hermione snapped her book closed and stood up. She picked up something that had been sitting beside her on the porch swing and walked down the steps to meet Ron. "Yes, Ron Weasley, you are a prat." Hermione tossed him a packet of crisps, then took a seat on the bottom step.
Ron looked at her, stunned, before taking a seat as well. "You knew I was coming?"
Hermione smiled. "I know you better than anyone, Ron."
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry it took a while for me to post it. Ron's parts of the story are going to be a bit confusing for some time, because I'm leaving it up to Harry to figure out what the heck has been going on. I promise everything will be explained later.
Please review and tell me what you did or didn't like, and I'll see you next time!