EDIT: Made an important change in the Potions class scene. A huge shoutout to RonWeasleyIsMyKing3180 for pointing out that only one of the Patils (Parvati) was in Gryffindor. *sweats* Sorry about that. (ToT)
Chapter 5:
The First Week
Ron never thought he would miss it, waking up for his early morning run.
Yet here he was, jogging about Hogwarts grounds, under the purple and gold blended twilight, breathing in the breeze, cool with the scent of pine and freshly mowed grass morning dew, taking in the sights of the intact stone, quiet woods and serene green land, and loving every second of it.
It also helped that there weren't a lot of people around this early, what with classes typically starting at around 8. It gave Ron the opportunity to go around without anyone noticing.
The first years had a free period in the morning before classes begin to familiarize themselves with the wonders and oddities of Hogwarts as well as their own schedules and locations of the classrooms. But since Ron already knew the castle second to the back of his hand (or the Burrow), the boy had more than enough free time to settle down the eighteen-turned-eleven way.
First order of business was to cast all the necessary charms (alarm, privacy, muffiliato, the usual) on his four poster bed domain, not only to keep potentially nosey dorm mates-like Seamus-out of his space, but also so that they won't be disturbed just in case Ron's nightmares got out of hand again. The red head then spent the rest of his pre-jogging minutes rehashing his daily routine according to what he remembered from his first-year schedule.
Regarding his readings, he was already done with the first year material since mid-August (one good thing about second hand books is the abundance of notes made by Bill and Percy; the past Ron hardly paid attention to them, but the Ron now saw them as a Merlin-send), and was in the process of looking into the second year subjects.
Before Lockhart ruined his second year with his pompous farce of a curriculum—all his parents' hard-earned money, wasted on that spineless wanker! —the standard Defense Against the Dark Arts second year book would have been The Dark and The Dangerous: Offense as the Best Defense, also by Quentin Trimble. He'd only browsed the book (Bill's old one) so far, but Ron can already tell that it has way more useful than all of Lockhart's shite claiming to be school books.
The Dark and The Dangerous. Standard Book of Spells Grade 2. They're all the new (worthwhile) books for second years. So, if Ron wanted to have any new books to read, the next place to be at was obvious.
Never in his wildest dreams had Ron thought he would actually plan to go to the library. Willingly. By his own initiative.
(He also never expected to come face to face with Death then be sent back in time either.).
And yet, after his morning exercises, a quick wash and fresh change of robes, Ron found himself standing in the library, before the wide oak desk of one Madame Pince.
If the boy could describe the librarian in one word, it would be dark: from her black hair all wound up in a tight bun, to her thick, coarse looking black and grey robes and feathered hat, to her deep set onyx eyes and her lips as if painted with tar.
Even the way she was looking at him—hard, apathetic, scrutinizing—was borderline dark. He wondered if she and Snape were somehow related.
Maybe I should have gone on my own...
"Yes, young man?" Madame Pince's flat tone was far from welcoming, but Ron will not be deterred.
"'Morning, uhm, Madame Pince. Just wondering if I could borrow some books?"
Pince's stare burned into Ron's for a brief moment before asking, "What year?"
"Err, first year."
"A bit unusual for a first year to come by the library on their first day." Her tone sounded almost accusing.
Deep breaths, Weasley. Deep breaths. "I'm not here to stir up trouble. I'm just here for some books." He cleared his throat. "Madame."
"Books on what, exactly?"
Merlin's soggy pants, I just want to read! Why does she have to make it so hard?
It was after a bit of candid prodding from Pince and Ron maybe losing a bit of his temper that the banshee of a librarian finally directed Ron to a section of shelves at the far left (along with a stern warning to not ruin her precious books with his oily, sweaty fingerprints).
Why didn't that bloody hag just do this in the first place? The time traveler thought with a scowl a frog march to the designated section. If she and Snape weren't related, I'd say they're made for each other! Really should have just gone off on my own after all!
It took a few breaths and for Ron to randomly grabbing a book from the shelf Pince pointed him to dampen his irritation.
Hogwarts Electives: How to Choose the Ones Right for You.
Blinking owlishly, the boy scanned the other titles from where that came from.
A Hogwarts Primer for the Busy Student.
Hogwarts: The Firstie's Guide to Survive and Thrive
Where, After Seventh Year?
The Muggleborn Essentiale to the Magical World
...Fine, maybe she's not a complete bitch after all.
"There you are, Ron!" Harry greeted his friend when the two met at the entrance of Gryffindor Tower. "Seamus said you were already up and out, but didn't know where you went."
"Sorry about that, mate." Ron said guiltily. He had been so focused on his schedule that he nearly forgot that this was Harry's first day in Hogwarts and would appreciate the help in getting around. "Got around for a bit of a run earlier. I planned on making it back before half past 7, but I lost track of the time."
Harry's green eyes lit up. "Really? You could do that here?"
"No one said I can't, so I just went ahead." The red head perked up. "Hey, if you want, you can join me sometime. I usually start at around 5. Might help us get settled in and all that." And it'll be good practice for you on waking up early once you become our Seeker.
"You won't mind?"
"'Course I won't! Besides it gets boring when you're running around without anyone to talk to." Ron said with a smirk. "You're stuck with me now, Potter! I hope someone's told you you better be ready for the long haul!"
To Ron's relief, Harry gave him an almost bashful smile. "If you're sure…"
"Obviously! Now come on, I'm starving and there's some toast in the Great Hall with my name all over it!"
A slight laugh escaped Harry then as he joined Ron on the way down, the two engaging in small talk as they took in the wonders of Hogwarts' moving staircases, lively portraits and the occasional ghost.
Ron couldn't help but think how, cute, Harry looked at the sight of everything: the child-like wonder, the way those emerald eyes glittered in open amazement and excitement, the way his face lit up like a small moon in joy.
But then an image of a dirt-smeared, blood-stained, war-weary Harry flashed before his eyes, one that Ron stomped away with a vengeance as he took his seat next to his friend at the Great Hall.
He cannot allow himself to dwell on that future, not when the Harry beside him was still so innocent, eager to explore the magical world, and hopeful in finally finding somewhere where he was not a freak.
He instead turned to Harry, who was staring intently at the pieces of parchment next to their plates. "You don't like sausage?"
"Huh? Err, no, I mean, I like sausage, it's just that," Harry waved the slip at Ron. "I was just looking at the schedule today."
"Uh huh. Classes don't start until eleven today though. We got loads of time."
The black-haired boy let out a sigh. "But there are just so many subjects here and I don't know the first thing about them. I'm really going to be the worst student in class!"
Oh. Ron remembered going through this the last time too, that Harry was so nervous about being sent home that he felt that every little thing could do it.
The red-haired wizard put his fork down and laid Harry's schedule on the space between them.
"No, you won't! A lot of us don't know much about these subjects either, even those of us from magical households." Except for Hermione, naturally. Ron shook his head. "But if it'll help you feel better, I can tell you a bit about some of them."
At Harry's eager nod, Ron went to explain a bit about some of the subjects he knew about, including Transfiguration ("Taught by our own Head of House. But don't think that'll make it easier for us. Professor McGonagall's not known for playing favorites."), Defense Against the Dark Arts ("It's a great subject, really. But I heard that Professor Quirrel's...not the type of teacher you'd expect to teach it. There's also the rumor that the DADA post is jinxed."), Charms ("You'll love this class, Harry! I heard Professor Flitwick's pretty cool, and there's a lot you can do with charms!"), and so on.
But the way Harry looked at him as if he was smart and all-knowing, attentively absorbing everything he could while he was at it, made Ron a tad uncomfortable. All his Hogwarts life, he was never the one people looked to for guidance or answers. Even Ginny learned not to once she started school. While he was happy to be of help to his friend, it was also a bit of a pressure, for Ron would give anything to not waste Harry's newfound trust in him.
Hopefully, once Harry sees me and the others do just as well as him in class, he'll have more confidence. Ron thought with a smile and a swig of pumpkin juice. That way, he'll get that I'm just a regular bloke who only knows a thing or two, and not...anything else better than that.
And besides, if that's how it's been in the past, if I don't do anything unusual, it's bound to stay the same, right? Piece of pumpkin pasty!
He had been so confident that it would be easy, almost as natural as breathing because really, when had he been anything but ordinary? When was he anything but the sidekick? It made that very clear during their chess game, didn't It?
In hindsight, Ron realized five days after his and Harry's first class, his blind trust in that fact should have told him that he was going to fail. Spectacularly.
The fact that he and Harry were always one of the first five people to arrive during their lessons was the first sign. Ron hadn't thought much of it in the first few classes, but it was around the fourth class of him and Harry being the first ones to arrive did it dawn on him: he was supposed to be a first year, someone who is still new to the castle. Someone who is expected to get lost at some point because the halls, the portraits and even the stairs could change every second.
Not someone who has been in the bloody thing for six whole years.
But by then, almost all his housemates seemed to have clued in that Ron Weasley knew his way around the castle better than any other first year, and had stuck to him and Harry throughout the rest of their classes, for the whole week like a bunch of lost puppies!
Now if that was the end of it, Ron wouldn't be bemoaning his fate so much. But oh no, that was just the beginning!
His first class, Transfiguration, had gone the same way Ron remembered it: McGonagall turning a desk into a pig and back, a bit of question and answer, lots of note taking, and Hermione getting all the attention by answering all the questions ("15 points to Gryffindor!") In other words, generally uneventful as far as he was concerned.
But then the practical part came.
Now Ron always felt he was pretty average when it came to Transfiguration, but even he could turn a matchstick into a needle and back—a first year level spell, for crying out loud!— in his sleep. However, because he didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea, he had planned to stall and pretend to struggle like everyone else.
(In fact, his mind had been honestly occupied by the book on electives he borrowed from the library)
But then McGonagall just had to come to his and Harry's desk.
It was a testament to his Head of House's years of experience that she could tell that Ron wasn't even trying.
"Oh, do put a bit more effort into it, Mr. Weasley!" The old woman said sternly, making the time traveler sweat anxiously.
"Err, sorry, Professor. It's just, I guess I'm really not that good—"
"I don't expect all of you to do it perfectly in the first try. But I do expect your best effort. Now, try again."
Ron's blue eyes darted between McGonagall and the matchstick on his desk before giving a sigh of defeat, and with a flick of his wand later, the red and wood turned into perfectly pointy silver.
Harry—who, at the moment, had only succeeded in sharpening the tip of his matchstick—let out a whoop, and everyone around them turned to see what had drawn the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived. Even Hermione looked up from her half-transformed work.
"Not that good, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall said while holding his matchstick-turned-needle-aloft. "Not a lot of first years can turn a matchstick into a needle this perfectly in such a short time."
Only because of years of experience that you won't believe I have, the boy had wanted so badly to say. But alas, it appeared that he had made an impression on McGonagall, given the way she smiled at him and awarded Gryffindor ten points for his work.
And then during Charms class, once Flitwick had gotten over Harry Potter being in his class, the half-goblin professor started the class on casting the Lumos charm. Simple enough for most of the first years to get it on their first several times. In fact, Harry had managed a ball of light as small as a candle flame in the past.
It was just Ron's rotten luck that his wand decided to act up again.
In the middle of Ron's first attempt, a light so bright burst out of his wand that it covered the whole room in glowing white and made almost everyone shriek in surprise.
"Bugger! Sorry, I'll fix this!" Ron hurriedly apologized as he tightened his grip on his wand, which was near burning in his palm. It was an old problem, really, of having too much power going into the wand and his spellwork. Thankfully, the solution was pretty simple, especially for a spell that continuously fed on his magic: wave the wand up sharply while willing the magic to be drawn back to his core (something he figured out the hard way when he first tried Aguamenti). The light quickly receded, much to Ron's relief, but it left behind a glow at the tip of his wand as big as one of Trelawney's crystal balls.
Flitwick had been beside himself with excitement. "Such amazing control for your age, Mr. Weasley! And an above average Lumos to boot!"
Ron was so shocked that he sputtered, "But—but I lost control of my magic, didn't I? And I nearly blinded everyone!"
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Mr. Weasley. Overpowering spells happen to first years from time to time. What is important—and challenging for someone of your level, mind you—is regaining control over it! Why, I was about to step in before you handled everything on your own!" Flitwick said easily. "Take ten points for Gryffindor!"
Oh Merlin, help him. The way Harry was looking at him with stars in his eyes made Ron wish he could melt into the floor. But the damage to his reputation had been done.
With his above average performance in his classes, the fact that a few students saw him frequent the library every morning, the fact that Harry Potter chose him out of everyone else to befriend, and even the fact that his Sorting resulted in a near Hat stall-whispers about him being some sort of a prodigy spread like wildfire.
Years ago, Ron would have killed for the attention he was getting, but now, all the boy wanted to do was to go back to being just "the tall kid with the red hair". How could he even think this was a good thing? He could hardly go anywhere now without someone giving him the eye or the occasional whispering.
And now they think I'm a genius or something when the only reason I'm doing good so far is because I'm a seventh year doing first year work. Ron groaned after thumping his head on the table. Not only that, I managed to change so many things without meaning to. Morgana's knickers, please someone tell me this is not going to fuck up the future! That's the problem with time travel, right? If you change too much shite, then all that future knowledge will be next to useless! But how can I stop things from changing too much if they keep changing without me even trying?!
"Err, Ron?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Harry." Ron put on a smile for his best friend, who was right next to him eating some toast. "Were you saying something?"
"You haven't touched your pie yet." Harry pointed at the shepherd's pie quietly sitting on Ron's plate. "And you've been looking down all morning."
Bullocks. He didn't mean to make Harry worry, not when he was having a great week so far. Calm down, Ronald. Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths… "It's nothing, Harry. Just have a bit of a headache, is all."
"Is it because of all the classes? Maybe you're working a little too hard." Concern flickered in Harry's green eyes. "Getting up for the morning run and doing all your readings on top of everything else we need to work on…"
Mate, seriously, this is nothing. Wait till we get to Fifth year. Still, the fact that Harry was being a good friend was enough to put a genuine smile on Ron's face.
"I'm fine, I promise. I just need to sort out my head a bit. And the morning run's not a problem, now that I have someone with me all the while," said Ron. "But what about you, mate? You OK with the hours? 5 AM is pretty early."
"It's OK. I'm used to waking up early too, for back with the Dursleys." Harry cleared his throat before smiling again. "It's nice to wake up early for myself for once."
The eighteen-turned-eleven had to stop his lips from curling down on hearing about the Dursleys. "Sounds like a nightmare."
"It is! And having to wake up to Aunt Petunia's screeching on the door?" Harry cringed. "I'd take your alarm charm over that any day. And speaking of that…"
Ron laughed at his best friend's pointed stare. "I didn't forget, don't worry." On the first day Harry joined him on his morning runs, the redhead cast an alarm charm—one that screamed "GOT YOUR CONK!" in Peeves' voice—on his best friend's bed curtains.
The way Harry jumped out of his bed at 4:30 as if it were on fire was exactly how he did during the middle of third year, when, after Hermione helped them master the basics of it, Ron pulled the very same prank on him and their dorm mates.
The time traveler couldn't stop laughing all the way down Hogwarts grounds, until his black-haired friend had enough and chased Ron around the Great Lake.
Long story short: Ron ended up being a dripping mess, and it was only him promising to teach a smug Harry how to cast the alarm charm that spared him from closely resembling a wet dog in the end. But oh, was it worth it.
Harry appeared to be satisfied enough to go back to his bangers and mash when they heard a light thump behind the bespectacled wizard.
"Morning, Neville." Harry greeted the boy who came to sit next to them.
"Morning." Said Neville, though his eyes remained glued to his empty plate, his face drawn in apparent anxiety.
Or apparent to him anyway, Ron noted, when he saw Harry turn back to his breakfast without preamble. Not like Ron could fault his best friend for it. Looking back, he himself had been the same as, if not worse than, Harry when it came to the sensitivity department; and the thought that he may have overlooked Neville's distress in the past sent an intolerable draft into his gut.
Ron cleared his throat. "You OK, Neville?"
It took Neville a few seconds to realize Ron was talking to him. "Who? Oh, me? Don't mind me. Just feeling a bit nervous."
"Nervous? About what?"
"Potions." Neville said. "I heard that Professor Snape can be downright nasty, especially to Gryffindors. And I'm pants at Potions! And I might cause trouble for everyone!"
"Professor Snape? The one with the long greasy hair?" Harry repeated as he joined the conversation. A mildly unpleasant look crossed his features. "Yeah, he does look the part, doesn't he?"
An image of Neville covered in boils and the sound of sizzling flashed in Ron's mind, making him nearly swear.
Shite, I nearly forgot about that! And Snape's questions to Harry! That's today, isn't it? The boy's brow furrowed in thought. Wait, let me think. Nothing too important happened then, right? Except for Harry figuring it out that Snape hates him, and the thing with Neville. It wouldn't be a bad thing to change it, right?
After a few seconds of thinking, Ron let out a breath. Ah, screw it!
"No use to us worrying our hairs grey over it, right? Yeah Snape can be scary—my brothers kept saying so—but as long as we keep our heads down, we'll live with all our limbs attached!"
"Easy for you to say," Harry snorted. "You're one of the top students of our year!"
"He's exaggerating." Ron stage whispered to Neville. "Besides, you're pretty good at Herbology, and Potions use a lot of plants!"
"Err, I guess…"
"No, it's true! I bet you know loads that are used in potions! Is it true that there are some plants that have multiple names?"
"Several, actually." Neville said eagerly. "Some plants have two or even three names for it. Like rowan—a type of wand wood—it's also called quickbeam, or caorthann if you're Irish. And—and doll's-eyes is also another name for baneberry. The red or white varieties can be used for potion making, which I assume would be a type of poison since baneberries are poisonous."
"Wicked! You really know your stuff, Neville!" And Ron meant it. He knew that the shy Longbottom's best subject, but hearing him talk so much about it like this always hit home how good Neville was at it. Sad that it took about mid-fifth year before Neville became comfortable enough to do "plant talk" with the DA, because he assumed it would turn them off or something.
And just like the in the past, when Hermione complimented him about it, Neville's round cheeks burned red. "Th—thanks."
"Really, why do some plants have to have a load of names for it? Like that one, wolfsbane, I think it was? It had another name, err…" Ron pretended to think. "Was it monkeyboot? Monkpoop?"
Harry stared at him incredulously while Neville laughed. "It's monkshood, also aconite. It's the flowers is commonly used in potions, but we also use the roots. Not sure about the leaves, but I know they're poisonous too."
Ron watched his best friend nod quickly at all this information and smiled victoriously. Harry may not be as studious as Hermione, but he certainly had a knack for learning quickly. Come on, Ronald, think, what else did Snape ask during their first day?
A memory of poisoned mead came into his mind.
"All this talk about poisonous plants makes me queasy though! Ugh, at least the twins haven't thought of using any of those on me or I'm doomed! Know any quick antidotes to most poisons I could keep with me, Neville?"
Said boy paled a little at that. "Your brothers…won't really do that, will they?"
"Who knows?" Ron waved a hand. "Pranksters, remember?"
Harry and Neville traded looks before the latter coughed. "Well, there's no real catch-all antidote for all poisons, but, let me think," The Longbottom furrowed his brows. "Aha! Powdered bezoar! Gran keeps a few at home all the time, just in case! It usually works on most types of poisons!"
Good old Neville, the time traveler thought happily. "Thanks, mate. I'll keep that in mind." A pause, before Ron remembered to add, "Hey, isn't that the one made of a stone you get from a goat's gut?"
"Oh yeah, I remember reading about that! Wow, you sure know a lot too, Ron!"
Harry elbowed Neville. "What did I tell you? Top student of the year."
Ron gave his best friend the evil eye. "Sod off, Harry!"
But seeing that the git just laughed it off, Ron figured it still needs a little work.
As Harry and Neville continued to talk about plants and their shared dread for Potions, Ron mulled over his plan.
Well, I didn't get all of the questions Snape will ask Harry later, but at least I got what I remember. Hopefully, that'll keep Harry from getting too embarrassed in class later.
Now what can I do about Neville…?
Unlike the rest of the ones he had seen so far, Snape hadn't really changed from the way Ron last saw him (his past future self).
There was the same greasy shoulder length hair, the same hook nose, the same billowing black cloak that made him look like a bat with long legs in this frigid dark hole called the dungeons.
And of course, he was still the same bullying toe rag they had to call Professor.
"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new," Sneer. "Celebrity."
But despite knowing all these things, despite the memories of the man being a right, bitter terror throughout most of his school life, Ron couldn't find it in himself to hate him anymore. Not as much as he used to anyway. Not to detract from the fact that Snape was (and still is) a vindictively cruel arse, but the Ron now knew the man had his reasons.
"You are here to learn the delicate and precise artistry of making potions. But, seeing as there is little foolish wand-waving here, you may hardly believe that this is magic. A concept only the most narrow-minded retain once you are through with my class, which unfortunately seems to be the norm."
Snape once said that Harry's mum was the only good thing that ever happened to him. It made Ron wonder, did Snape have a terrible childhood too? An unhappy home the same way Harry did? And the Marauders bullying him at Hogwarts must have made matters worse. The eighteen-turned-eleven certainly respected Sirius and Remus a great deal, but after everything he learned, Ron now knew that they owed Snape an apology as much as Snape owed them. And that both Snape and Sirius should get their heads out of their asses because the story was not as black and white as they make it to be.
Wow, Ronald, what a novel concept! Ron's sarcastic mind voice was back. A world that has many shades of grey areas? Oh, the bloody horror! The insanity! How is that even possible?!
"—Potter!" Ron nearly jumped out of his seat when Snape called out Harry's name. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Draught of the Living Dead. Ron recalled immediately, it being one of the last potions he brewed for Slughorn's class before the war. Something this Harry of course wouldn't know, seeing that it was a sixth-year level potion. Something Snape knew that Harry wouldn't know, seeing the patronizing smirk in Snape's face when Harry said so.
Instead of infuriating him, however, Ron merely rolled his eyes. Now that he thought about it, Snape was being rather petty here, wasn't he? Not only humiliating Harry in front of the class, but also ignoring an eager Hermione's hand. Oh, wait till he gets to one of the questions that Ron (with Neville) prepared Harry for—
"—where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" And what perfect timing!
Ron couldn't help his victorious smile the same way Harry couldn't help his face relaxing as he said, "From a goat's stomach? Sir?"
Snape's face slackened for a miniscule of a second—didn't expect that, did you? Ron thought vindictively—before the man huffed. "Hmm, it appears that a student has gotten lucky. Let's see if lightning strikes twice," the man paused before meeting Harry's eyes dead on. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Harry's lips were obviously struggling not to twitch upwards. "They're the same plant, sir. My friend said it's also known as aconite."
Ron nearly laughed out loud at that answer. Wow, Harry, just had to be a little cheeky there, huh?
Snape predictably didn't take it well. "One point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter. Be grateful that your current company is keeping you from being a complete failure!"
Now that comment got a rise out of Ron. What the hell? Even after getting most of the questions right, Snape still gets to humiliate Harry in front of everyone? How the bloody fuck is that fair?!
The red head felt that he should be angrier, but when Harry subtly elbowed him to say, "Thanks, mate, you just saved my life!" with that same starry-eyed look he had been giving Ron lately, made all that anger cool into discomfort.
(It's no problem, Harry, but it's also not that big of a deal, come on!)
It was enough to help Ron focus on the rest of the lesson, which was about the Cure for Boils potion, one that Ron was confident he could make fairly well enough thanks to his back readings and his retained memories. In fact, Ron was so confident that, no matter who he gets paired with, he'll be able to make the potion all right (except if he's paired with Malfoy. Or Crabbe or Goyle).
Wait, something clicked in Ron's mind, making him grin. That's it! That's how I can help Neville!
While Snape's attention was on the board, the ginger head turned to his best friend. "Hey, Harry, can you do me a favor?"
A smile lit up Ron's face when Harry went up to Neville once Snape announced to the class to pair off for brewing the Cure for Boils potion. Ron would have paired with Neville himself, but he didn't want Harry to end up being paired with someone he wasn't comfortable with, and in Potions of all classes. Granted, it was the situation Ron was facing now, but the time traveler didn't mind it so much. And since Harry was pretty average when it came to Potions, he had faith that his best friend will keep Neville from melting the cauldron. Problem solved!
Now there's the matter of who else I can pair up with… Ron looked around to see who else had no partner. Hermione paired up with the Gryffindor Patil (What was her name again?), Seamus paired with Dean, Lavender was with another Gryffindor girl whose name escaped him at the moment.
Hell, was everyone paired up but him?
"Weasley, what are you doing?"
It took a whole lot of willpower for Ron to not jump out of his skin when Snape as if apparated behind him. "Oh, err, sorry Professor. It's because, I was looking for someone pair up with."
An impatient look crossed Snape's face, and for a second, Ron thought the man was going to fail him for this class right there and then. But then the man inclined his head.
"I will only consider this because word has it that you have a modicum of competence. But prove those rumors wrong, and you will find that there are worse things you can experience in this school other than expulsion. Is that clear?"
Ron had to remember to not raise his brow at the unexpected response from the man. What brought that on? But before he could clarify, the professor gestured for him to follow until they reached the second to the last row of the Slytherin column.
"Greengrass, it appears that you will not have to do the potion yourself. Weasley has agreed to be your partner for this session."
I have? The cold look Snape sent Ron's ways made him nod quickly anyway.
The girl in front of him, Greengrass, looked like a female Malfoy, with long, golden hair clipped to one side by a diamond studded hair clip, a pale, heart-shaped face, long aristocratic nose and slanted green eyes. The difference is that while the air around Malfoy screamed condescending pigswill, Greengrass frankly looked like she couldn't care any less. Her flat reply of "Yes, professor," definitely made that clear.
Ron could have sworn he had seen her face somewhere before, in the old timeline…
"…So, how are we supposed to do this?" Ron forced his mind back to the present after Snape left.
Something crossed Greengrass' features for split second before she pointed at her table. "I have already gathered the needed ingredients and was about to crush the snake fangs."
"OK. So what do you want me to do?"
Greengrass gave him a long look. "You have paid attention in class, haven't you?"
"'Course I did." Ron may have said that a little too defensively. "But I need to know who's doing what, or else I might end up leaving you to do all the work, and Professor Snape will skin my hide." He then raised an eyebrow. "Unless you were planning to make me brew it by myself?"
Greengrass raised an eyebrow back at him. "I wouldn't risk your abysmal potion making skills ruining my performance, Weasley."
The familiar heckles of anger were crawling back up his gut again, but Ron forced it away. Calm down. Deep breath. You don't want Snape to skin you alive. Calm down.
"All right then, how about I do the dirty work of crushing the snake fangs and measuring the slugs while you do the wand waving and the stirring? Even someone with" And Ron air quotes, "Abysmal potion making skills can do that much right by your standards, you reckon?"
"…Acceptable. I'll keep the fire burning while you prepare the fangs. Don't take too long."
The pair then fell silent as they did their respective tasks, with Ron methodically crushing the fangs to the finest powder he could. In the past, Ron couldn't care less about this, but the Ron now wanted to make the effort because—while also motivated by his promise to learn and be better prepared in knowledge and skill this time around— he also wanted to rub it into the Snape's face that just because the man is blatantly playing favorites doesn't mean that Ron will inevitably stink at Potions. And while Snape can make it harder for Ron and the Gryffindors to get a good grade in his class, not even Snape can deny an Outstanding or Exceeds Expectations where it was due. (For all Snape's displeasure with Hermione for her association with Harry, she never got a Potions grade lower than EE.)
Snape's earlier threat looming over his head was also a pretty good motivator.
All things considered, Ron was pretty grateful that out of all the Slytherins he could have paired up with, he went with someone whose snootiness tolerable enough. She obviously came from a wealthy family (the Greengrasses were part of the Noble and Ancient Houses, weren't they?), but at least she hadn't brought up his blood traitor status, and in fact seemed to take their class rather seriously. He poured in the four measures of snake fangs while she kept the cauldron at the right temperature. Then while waiting for the cauldron to cool, Ron observed her leafing through Magical Drafts and Potions with an intent look on her face instead of loafing around like Malfoy and his croonies two tables to their front.
For some reason, Ron's mouth ran without him thinking. And with Snape obviously preferring to stalk over the Gryffindors' side of the dungeons more at the Slytherins', Ron didn't have to worry about Snape catching him off guard again.
"You like Potions?"
Greengrass looked up from her book, her brows raised briefly before her face smoothed out again. "No, I'm obviously reading this because I have nothing better to do and couldn't care less if I failed this class."
The sarcasm was thick in her jab, but instead of rising to the bait, Ron shrugged. "You know you could have just said 'yes'. And just because you don't want to fail in Potions doesn't mean you like it."
"Much like just because I'm here in Hogwarts doesn't mean I want to be here?"
Now that caught Ron's interest. "You don't?"
Greengrass flipped another page instead. Seconds of silence went by before it got the better of Ron again. "Why don't you like Hogwarts?"
"…I never said that I didn't."
"So you do?"
The girl looked up from her book again. "You're an awfully nosey one, aren't you?"
Ron shrugged. "We have thirty minutes before I have to add the slugs. I'm bored."
"Then run along and bother Potter or your fellow Gryffindor friends."
"Can't. They're too far away."
"They're at the next column, you dunderhead!" For the first time since Ron paired up with her, Greengrass' eyes flashed, the beginnings of a scowl marring her once flat face. So, it's not frozen that way after all! Good to know.
"So why don't you like Hogwarts?"
"I just told you that I don't. Don't don't like Hogwarts, I mean." Greengrass answered sharply.
"I mean, the classes are nice, aren't they? Except for History of Magic, I guess. But you look like a bookish know-it-all, so you got to love our classes. Not that it's a bad thing. I think all the Houses have their own bookish know-it-alls. Maybe not the Ravenclaws, because they're all bookish know-it—"
"Do you have a point?"
"I'm saying that even if say, hypothetically," emphasized Ron, "you don't like Hogwarts, there must be something you can learn to like here. If you like Potions, Sn—Professor Snape is your Head of House, and I heard he's…helpful to Slytherins. And if you're into books, there's a lot of good ones in the library about Potions and other stuff. And the food!" He waved a hand. "Come on, if nothing else, you have to admit, the food here is bloody good!"
(Hypothetically, huh? See, Hermione, I do know how to use big words!)
"…Are you done yet?"
"No. We still have twenty-five minutes."
"The longest twenty-five minutes of my life." Greengrass groaned before closing her book with a snap. "For someone who doesn't like associating with our kind, you sure are talkative."
Ron felt his blood freeze a little. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a Weasley anda Gryffindor. The type who wouldn't touch anything Slytherin-related with a yard-long pole. When Professor Snape paired us, I was half-expecting you to be foaming in the mouth over being near a snake."
The boy frowned. "Someone's quick to judge."
Greengrass' eyes shone clearly with challenge. "You lot never tried to prove otherwise."
Well you lot never tried to prove that you're more than pureblood-manic, muggle-hating, Dark Lord boot licking scum, was Ron's instinctive rejoinder.
But if I say that, then I'm just proving her right. Ron realized. And it's not fair, because so far, she hadn't acted like a pureblood-maniac, muggle-hating, Dark Lord boot licking scum. This is exactly what must have driven the Slytherins to side with Voldemort. The time traveler bit his lip. And he used to be part of the problem.
Deep breaths. Change for the better, Weasley. Change for the better. Deep breaths.
"I guess I can't blame you for thinking that," said Ron. "But I'm bugging you instead of Harry and Neville, right? And instead of, you know, foaming in the mouth over being near a snake? So maybe if you give me a chance, I will be able prove you otherwise."
"And why should I?"
"I don't know." Ron answered honestly. "So it's all up to you."
Greengrass fingered the edge of her book for a moment before saying, "Am I supposed to find that touching, Weasley?"
"…No, you're supposed to find that completely disgusting, enough to throw a handful of horned slugs at my face before walking away with your nose up high." Ron quipped in a tone that could have come off as rude but, for some reason, made Greengrass' lips budged the tiniest bit upwards.
"In case you forget, those are my ingredients, Weasley, and I'm not wasting any of my slugs on you."
"Thank Merlin for that. I wouldn't want to end up smelling like one all day!"
Greengrass tutted. "…You know, just for that, I might consider taking up that offer."
Ron smirked with a shake of his head. "Sorry, Greengrass, that was a one-time deal only."
"We still have about twenty minutes. More than enough time to find something else to throw."
"…How about some nice porcupine quills?"
All in all, it had been a strange but mostly all right lesson. He and Greengrass ended up making an Exceeds Expectations grade Cure for Boils potion; Harry and Neville survived the class with their dignities intact; and best of all, no one melted a cauldron today.
Oh, and he somehow made acquaintances with Greengrass, dry humor and all.
Not a bad way to top off the stressful week he'd been having.
If there are things that will change around without Ron doing anything, he might as well continue with his plan of changing what he intended to begin with. As for everything else, the time traveler supposed he could go with the flow, see where it takes him.
"Hey, Ron," He was pulled out of his musings while lounging at the Common Room by Harry's hand on his shoulder. "I'm off to see Hagrid. You want to go with me?"
"What? You're visiting Hagrid's today?"
Harry nodded. "He wrote to me this morning, remember? Tea around three?"
Oh, right, that visit at Hagrid's, when Harry found out about the theft at Gringotts. That was today too! The tall red head got up. "Sure, why not. I want to meet Hagrid!" Ron and Harry were about to head for the portrait hole when Ron spied Neville sitting by himself near the fireplace.
Lips in a tight line, he lightly nudged Harry's arm. The green-eyed boy's confused expression became soft with compassion when he followed Ron's train of view.
"Hey Neville!" Harry called out to the boy whose head shot up in surprise. "We're having tea with a friend of ours. Do you want to join us?"
The way the chubby faced boy's eyes lit up as he stumbled to reach Harry and him made Ron smile.
If nothing else, at least with Neville, he had done something right.
A few readers mentioned to me that they were hoping I would make Ron a Slytherin, and to be honest, it was a tempting prospect. The potential for drama, surprise and character development that come with that plot thread is huge, and despite Ron's aversion to the snakes, he does have the potential to be one (his suppressed desire to surpass his brothers is a form of ambition). But there is already so much going on in TBA that adding the Ron-being-Slytherin drama on top of all that is too much, I think.
There are already a number of excellent fanfics featuring Slytherin!Ron (I personally recommend Choices by randomfruitcake, Fate by TheTrueSpartan, and The Red Knight by Demon Eyes Laharl), and I think I've even read a Ravenclaw!Ron somewhere so I'm happy to shelve this idea for now.
[Besides, I have another Ron-centric project I'm working on alongside TBA and everything else I've been writing, which means I'll be too busy to write it out anyway. :)]
And yay, Ron's first interaction with a non-Gryffindor, and a Slytherin to boot! Writing Hogwarts students outside the Golden Trio or Malfoy and his goons is pretty fun because most of the time, their characters and even their appearances are open to fan interpretation.
Daphne Greengrass, for example, has been portrayed as anything between a spoiled princess to a pragmatic neutralist (and either a blonde or a brunette). I tried to make Ron's first interaction with her as in character as possible while also taking into consideration his experiences, new insights and the fact that he really is trying to change for the better. But if you find this story lacking a Ron-losing-his-temper episode, don't worry, there will be some of those somewhere down the road (this is still Ron after all, as evidenced by his bouts of inner rage).
Thank you once again to everyone who read/reviewed/followed my fanfic. Amazing how I reached the 100+ review mark in under 10 chapters! Chuchi is so touched. (TuT) Feedback, corrections and suggestions greatly appreciated as always!
Stay indoors! Stay safe! Wash your hands!
UP NEXT:
An unexpected encounter, an interesting proposal, a little bit of flying, and…Ron has a hero complex?
