Originally, I planned to have TBA Years 1 to 7 all in one fanfic. But now I'm considering to split up the fanfic into volumes the same way JK did, per year. What do you guys think?
Also, special thanks to Kiki1770 for the comment on the formatting regarding Ron's thoughts in writing. If anyone else is having the same difficulty regarding TBA, hope the changes make it easier to follow now.
Anyways, enough of that. On with the show!
EDIT: Is this deserving a corner of shame? By golly it does! :D
Special thanks to sincerelyki for pointing out that Cedric should be in Fourth Year at this time, not Third Year like my brilliant math skills suggested. Keep those fact checks coming! Chuchi's Corner of Shame is always happy to receive them! Haha!
Oh, and, err, more minor grammar edits, I guess?
Chapter 6:
The More Things Change
The tea time at Hagrid's went about the same way Ron remembered it, even with Neville with them, from the impossibly hard rock cakes to the paper detailing the Gringotts break-in to Harry's uncanny knack at picking up the little details anyone would have missed.
Judging by the pensive mood his best friend had been all night, Ron knew that Harry was already thinking about the connection between the break-in and the package from vault seven hundred and thirteen but decided not to pry. Experience taught Ron that if Harry wanted to open up about something, he'd do so in his own time. And as long as it wasn't anything important or immediately life-threatening, Ron was fine with it.
Besides, the time traveler also too much in mind to play interested in a mystery he already knew the answer behind. Instead, his thoughts were on the books he borrowed from the Library last Monday.
In accordance with the British Ministry of Magic Auror Office standards, he read in Where, After Seventh Year? A potential Auror candidate has to have a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s, all with grades of either 'Outstanding' (O) or 'Exceeds Expectations' (E) for their application to be accepted.
For as long as Ron could remember, he had always wanted to be an Auror. And while the reasons for it changed over time, Ron hadn't been able to see him become anything else but that. But while Professor McGonagall had been very helpful in informing him of the application process and the subjects that would increase his chances for acceptance, the books he had been reading made Ron realize that there was more to it than what McGonagall had told him.
The Auror Office accepts N.E.W.T.s of all subjects, and there is no limit in the number an applicant can submit for consideration. However, some N.E.W.T.s are worth more points than others, and that core subject N.E.W.T.s may not necessarily be of higher value than elective N.E.W.T.s. For example, an E Advanced Runic Studies N.E.W.T. is worth more than an O N.E.W.T. in Herbology. Recommended core subject N.E.W.T.s that give most positive recommendation points are: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology and Potions; while recommended electives N.E.W.T.s are: Advanced Runic Studies, Advanced Arithmancy, and Advanced Magical Theory.
That means, Ron surmised as he wrote in his notebook, if I choose my electives right, I'll be able to improve my chances and learn something new to fight Death Eaters with! It's a good thing that the Auror selection program accepts N.E.W.T.s from all subjects, because knowing me, I probably won't get an E on Herbology since I don't have a green thumb like Neville. But I think I'll be able to get the rest.
He scribbled Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions under the Core Subjects column, then pausing after writing down Electives? on the opposite side. Last time, I picked Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Care of Magical Creatures was interesting, but I only took Divination for an easy O. I can't think that way anymore.
Ron then flipped through Hogwarts Electives: How to Choose the Ones Right for You. So, to get to the Advanced N.E.W.T.s, I need to take the basic elective courses like Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. But which ones should I pick? I should have listened to Hermione more when she talked about these. Not that she talked about them much except Arithmancy, but…
"You're reading about electives already?" An amused voice said from his left.
Ron instinctively whipped out his wand in reflex, making the speaker back away with hands raised. "Hey, hey, take it easy there, little Weasley!"
But instead of calming Ron down, the sight of him filled the boy's lungs with cold air. "D—Diggory?"
Cedric Diggory grinned warmly despite being at the end of Ron's wand. "Diggory, really? What happened to Cedie?"
A bit of color returned to Ron's cheeks as he scowled. "I'm not six anymore, Dig—fine, Cedric. And bloody hell, scare a first year to death, why don't you?"
"Sorry, my bad. But to be fair, with the way you took your wand out earlier, I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes." Cedric laughed, taking a seat across Ron. "So, I guess that means we're even."
"What are you even doing here?"
"Can't old friends say hello to each other?"
"In the Library, really?" Ron's blue flickered to the main counter. "Do you want Pince to murder us?"
"Madame Pince, Ronnie. And as long as we keep our voices down, she won't notice at this distance," said Cedric. "Besides if you're not here, you're usually with Potter."
"And you can't talk to me about this with Harry around because?"
Cedric tapped his chin. "Hearing it like that does sound suspicious, doesn't it? I just thought it would be better to speak to you in private. Are you aware that there are extra-curricular clubs here in Hogwarts?"
"Extra-curricular clubs?" Ron echoed. "You mean like the Quidditch teams?"
"Not surprising that that's the only one you know. I'm pretty sure more than half of the Hogwarts population are Quidditch fans." Cedric said with a shrug. "It's just too bad that you can't join the Quidditch team until second year. But there are other clubs you can be part in if you're interested. I'm part of a group of inter-related clubs made to help the lower years in their studies, from the core subjects to the available electives."
"You mean like a study group."
"More than a study group. The clubs were created in collaboration with the lecturers for each subject. The students get to understand the courses better, and the lecturers get to improve their teaching skills."
"There are lecturers in Hogwarts?" The younger wizard blurted in genuine surprise. Six years in Hogwarts and he never even heard about that!
"They're the ones who assist the Professors with administrative tasks, keeping things in order, grading assignments and all that. They also help conduct exams including the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. But since they're not seen around as much, especially by the lower years, not a lot of people know about them."
Now that Ron thought about it, there were some tests during his fifth years that were not conducted by his Professors. He realized he just never paid much attention to it.
But if what Cedric said is true, "So these study groups—clubs—you said a first year can join? Even for those on the electives?"
"Absolutely. I've been part of the Ancient Runes club since first year, and then the Arithmancy club last year." The Hufflepuff said. "It's going to be hard work, since the Lecturers will give you homework every now and then, but if you join early, you'll have an easier time once you start taking the credited electives. You can also be part of a core subject club if you're having a hard time with a specific one."
This was sounding better by the second, though some things still escaped Ron. "But why all the secrecy? These clubs sound great, so why couldn't you tell me about this around Harry? Actually, why tell me at all? Couldn't you just have posted notes about it?"
For some reason, that query made Cedric's eyes glow. "Yes, we do post notices on the Common Room boards, but from experience, a post on subject related clubs don't really attract much attention."
"…Point." If there had been notices about these sorts of clubs at the Gryffindor Common Room, the Ron back then wouldn't have cared enough to remember.
"To be honest, most of my peers wanted to approach Harry Potter." Cedric went on. "The clubs needed more promotion to attract new members, something we don't have much of lately, and what better way to do that than to have the Boy-Who-Lived as a member?"
Round blue eyebrows narrowed. "You want to recruit Harry through me, is that it?"
"I said that was what my peers wanted, but I don't exactly agree," Cedric elaborated. "I'm sure Potter is a nice enough bloke, but the course clubs are not about getting the most members or being the most popular. It's about helping students who want to learn and are having trouble with their classes. I want to promote our clubs as much as the next member, but if I'm going to personally invite anybody, it will have to be someone who I think takes their studies seriously. And word around is that you're some kind of prodigy."
"Rubbish! I'm not—!" Ron's ears burned again, but this time not out of anger. "Stop pulling my leg, Diggory!"
"Wouldn't dream of it. You know, if you're serious about becoming an Auror, you should join the Ancient Runes club too. We meet every Wednesdays and Saturdays from half past five to seven, in case you're interested."
Ron made a mental note to write the schedule down later. "If say I am, can I bring my friends with me?"
Cedric nodded. "Of course! We do want new members after all. We got members from all Houses so it's a good opportunity for you to meet new people."
The young Weasley blinked thoughtfully. "Members from all Houses? Even Slytherins?"
The older student however mistook his surprise for apprehension and made a placating gesture. "It will be fine. We don't tolerate any form of bullying in the clubs. Trust me, I know some members who have been kicked out because of that. And contrary to what some might think, not all of the bullies are from Slytherin."
"Didn't mean anything by it." Ron said plainly. "Just because I'm Gryffindor doesn't mean I hate Slytherins on principle."
Cedric's gaze sharpened for a moment too long before…
"Oi!" To Ron's surprise, Cedric suddenly reached and ruffled his red hair. "G—Geroff!"
Cedric's smile was a little too cheery. "You're all right, Ronnie."
"Huh?"
The fourth year stood up and waved. "Sorry, I better go. Quidditch team meeting after breakfast. See you around!"
Ron's gaze followed the retreating Hufflepuff, disbelief creasing his brow, until Cedric faded from view.
"Hogwarts has study clubs?"
Ron nodded from between Harry and Neville, the three huddled in the Common Room playing Gobstones. "I had the same reaction. Turns out you can learn something new about Hogwarts even if you have five older brothers who went here."
It had been three days since that strange encounter with Cedric Diggory in the library, and while Ron tried to not to dwell, the offer kept coming back to mind, distracting him so much that it became too obvious to Harry and Neville for them not to ask about it. And despite Ron's attempts to brush them off, the two other boys were like bloodhounds on a scent.
Finally thinking that it won't do too much harm if he told the truth—because Cedric did say that Ron could bring some friends along anyway—the red head caved in.
Neville looked both intrigued and nervous about the idea. "They even have one on Potions? I sure could use the help. But you said there are members from the other Houses there too?"
"Yeah, but from what I've heard, they mostly get on pretty well." Ron paused. "You reckon you want to join, Neville?"
The chubby boy hesitated. "It sounds nice, but…I don't know if, I can hardly fit in our own House. Even Slytherins!"
Ron shrugged. "You'll never know until you try, right? And the bloke who approached me, Diggory? I can vouch at least for him."
"An old friend?" Asked Harry.
That made the time traveler pause. He didn't elaborate to Harry back in fourth year, but once upon a time, his parents would bring him and his siblings to play with the other neighboring children. Though he was rarely around, Cedric had been so friendly and charismatic that almost everyone was drawn to him, Ron included. But when the Hogwarts years came, suddenly it's like the once playmates had their own worlds defined by their houses and new friends.
Ron didn't think that Cedric was the type to forget a childhood friendship that easily. But back in the first life, the youngest Weasley boy felt that they drifted too far apart that they were back to being acquaintances.
But then he called me Ronnie, just like before. The eighteen-turned-eleven year old noted. As if nothing had changed. Had it…always been like that? It's not like either of us made time to find out in the past life. Why's now different?
"The son of one of our neighbors." Ron eventually answered. "Back when we were kids, our parents would bring me and my siblings to play with the other kids in St. Catchpole."
"Must be nice. It's just me and Nan home on most days, and there aren't any other kids my age nearby," said Neville with a dry smile.
"There are loads of kids my age in Privet Drive, but none I could call friends." Harry wrinkled his nose. "Dudley made sure of that. Are there many wizarding families at your place, Ron?"
"Not much, just the Diggorys, Lovegoods and Fawcetts. And unlike the Weasleys, the others don't have a lot of kids," Ron answered. "The ones I remembered playing with are Magdalene and Sabrina Fawcett, Cedric Diggory, and Luna Lovegood…"
Suddenly, his pocket felt warm, and he reached for it, his mind was filled with images.
"HELP! PLEASE, YOU GOTTA HELP HER! SHE'S—"
The humming of energy ringing in his ears.
"Budge, you stupid lump of rock! BUDGE!"
Cracking and a spray of crimson.
A gasp of air.
"It's OK, boy. It's OK. We got you. Both of you."
A pair of short arms on his torso, the scent of flowers, a hiccup.
"Thank you, Ron! Thank you so—"
"Blimey," remarked Neville. "What you guys reckon that's about?"
Ron blinked back to reality, shaking his head from the sudden onslaught of visions. Shite, seriously? Visions? Shouldn't they have stopped after that game with Death?
Good thing Harry and Neville were distracted by whatever it was going on at the notice board to notice Ron suddenly spacing out and now nursing a mild headache from it.
"Err, no idea. Want to check it out?" Looking a distraction from his puzzling visions, Ron made his way to the crowd gathering on the board. Squeezing through, he first noticed—more like searched for— the palm-sized parchment advertising the study clubs Cedric mentioned (At the left-hand bottom corner, really? How is anyone supposed to notice that?). The next was the larger roll pinned at the center of the board. "Flying lessons?"
"What? Already?" Neville whispered worriedly amidst the buzzing excitement over the announcement while Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Flying lessons?"
"It's a special class for first years, where they teach you to fly a broom properly," explained Neville.
"Oh? I thought first years weren't allowed brooms."
"They—we aren't, not until we pass flying lessons. That goes for us raised by magical folk too, even if we have been taught to ride brooms before." Neville explained. "Nan never let Uncle Algie teach me. Said I already get into enough accidents with both my feet on the ground."
"I wonder what flying feels like?" Mused Harry as he, Neville and Ron made their way back to their table.
"I guess we'll find out on Thursday," said Neville nervously. "But why do they have to pair us up with the Slytherins again?"
Harry's expression soured. "Just what I needed. More chances to make a fool of myself in front of Malfoy."
Ron's eyes widened on remembering. On our first flying lesson, Neville broke his wrist from falling off his broom! Is that something I need to do something about again?
But then he also remembered that it was the clumsy boy's fall that led to the events that made Harry seeker, which was a very good thing for his best friend. Was that worth letting his other friend get hurt again?
It's not like the fall had any real repercussions on Neville. Madame Pomfrey was able to fix the wrist as if nothing happened, and despite his clumsy self, the young Longbottom managed to pass flying lessons at the end of the year. No big deal, right?
Right?
As the days to Thursday wore on, Hogwarts was filled with talks about flying lessons, which then sparked further conversation about Quidditch. Ron found it especially amusing how many of the first years who grew up in magical households enjoyed telling exaggerated tales of their own flying experiences, like Seamus' so-called countryside flying escapades or Malfoy claiming that he was so good at flying that they should have made him an exemption for the "no first years on the school quidditch team" rule.
Then there were other first years, like Neville and Hermione, who appeared to dread the thought of their first flying lesson inching closer. Hermione tried to hide it, but anyone can tell that it was making her antsy. Ron knew this was because flying wasn't something her advanced readings or spellwork could help her with. And while she did eventually learn how to fly properly in the future, Hermione would rather not be anywhere near a broomstick if she could help it.
But what fun he could get from obviously outlandish stories and nervous first year antics worked little against the weight of anxiety he had been nursing in his gut all week. Not because of the flying lessons, but because of his indecision on what to do with Neville.
Saving him from a humiliating Potions lessons was one thing, because there was practically no con to it. But this time, if he helped stop Neville from breaking his wrist, he might not drop his Remembrall and not cause the chain of events leading to Harry becoming Gryffindor's seeker. And Ron would not want to inadvertently cause that to not happen.
So can he stop himself from interfering this time? Was that the right thing to do?
And I didn't even get to ask Harry or Neville if they wanted to go to the study clubs after all because of all this second-guessing shite! Ron was initially annoyed by that until he realized, not that they'll seriously think about anything else but flying anyway.
Before Ron knew it, Thursday morning had come. By the time he, Harry and Neville had come down the Great Hall for breakfast, the Gryffindor table was abuzz with the first year's anticipation for the afternoon.
"You should really eat something, Neville." Harry told the other dark-haired boy who was staring glumly at the waffles.
"Can't. Just in case I get sick while flying."
Ron felt like he should help Harry encourage Neville, but he hadn't touched the pancake on his plate either. Then he heard a thump in front of him and saw Hermione, her hair more frizzy than usual, her nose buried under a book. But instead of a core course book, Ron read Quidditch Through the Ages on the cover.
Much to the groans of majority within earshot, the bushy haired girl promptly went on and on about anything interesting she'd come across on her book, word per word, barely pausing for a nibble of croissant or a sip of pumpkin juice every now and then. Typical Hermione working off her nerves through reading and spouting knowledge, and Ron had gotten used to it enough to let her talk while tuning out at least half of it.
Unfortunately, the rest of his House mates appeared to be a foot away from taking off simultaneously or just throwing a couple of rolls at her head.
"Err, Hermione, not that we don't appreciate your advice but," The time traveler cleared his throat. "Maybe you should take it easy. Flying isn't something you'll learn by taking a book word per word to heart. I have five siblings who are mean fliers, and they didn't learn how to do it by reading." He shot a glance at Neville, who was Hermione's only avid listener. "Trust me, Neville, the only way you can learn to fly is to do it yourself."
Hermione's eyes flashed as she slammed her book closed on the table, and Ron could feel his entire being brace itself for an imminent explosion. But before the girl could open her tightly drawn mouth, a flock of owls came swooping in.
Ron hadn't been this grateful for the arrival of the mail in a long time.
"Oh," exclaimed Neville when a small, heavy sounding package landed on his plate. "It's from Nan!"
"What is it?" Harry asked while the other boy carefully tore the paper open. Just as Ron had expected, Neville fished out a shiny silver ball, big as a marble and filled with light colored mist for everyone to see.
"It's a Remembrall. Nan knows I forget things, so she said she'd send one over to me. You hold it, and when it glows," The smoke in the ball begun to change, making Neville's face fall. "Red, like this, it means you've forgotten something."
"Lot of good that'll do if it doesn't tell you anything else." Ron shook his head in exasperation. "Wouldn't it be nice to have something that shows you what you've forgotten?"
Neville sighed almost dreamily. "Would have been mighty helpful, that one. But what did I forget?"
"Schoolbooks? Homework?" Harry supplied. "Something your Nan asked you to do?"
"Your Chocolate Frogs?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Why would that be important, Ron?"
"Hey, it just glows red for 'something I forgot'! Doesn't mean it's important!"
"And of all things, you pick sweets?"
Ron mock glowered. "OI! Chocolate Frogs are bloody important, mate!"
"But you just said—!"
"—I know you lot are just trying to help, but I really can't concen—HEY!" Neville exclaimed when he felt the Remembrall slide off his hand, only to come face to face with a sneering Malfoy, with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
Just as Harry and Ron were about to jump up in Neville's defense, McGonagall had somehow silently apparated behind the Slytherin.
"What's going on here?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Neville answered quickly.
Said Slytherin dropped the ball on the table as if it burnt him. "Just looking."
"Funny," Ron said icily. "We didn't hear you asking if you could."
Malfoy glared at him, his lips tight, but knowing that he can't try anything around McGonagall, he and his goons merely stormed past the three.
"Thanks, Harry, Ron." Neville said softly. "Professor."
"Don't worry about it," answered Harry after their Head of House returned to the staff table.
"And besides, I've been looking for a chance to teach that pompous git a thing or too," added Ron, scowling at the memory of Malfoy prancing wherever he went, acting as if he owned the school and everyone in it. "He's been asking for it all week!"
The shy Gryffindor smiled. "You guys are the best friends ever!"
He knew Neville meant well, but those words made the lead ball in Ron's stomach grow heavier.
Half past three in the afternoon found the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins gathered on the grounds for their first flying lesson, in a smooth, flat lawn in perfect view of the dark, gnarly trees of the Forbidden Forest. Just like Ron remembered, it was a clear, breezy afternoon that was just right for flying.
Already on the sea of swaying grass were twenty school broomsticks, neatly queued up in five columns, as well as their teacher, Madam Hooch, arms crossed while her hawk yellow eyes regarded them with a hint of impatience. "Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, stand by a broomstick!"
The Gryffindors and Slytherins hurried to do as they are told, Ron going for the spot between Neville and Hermione. The pathetic excuse of a broom aged rather badly, with some twigs frayed, bent and even missing. How in Avalon's name did Harry catch the Remembrall with this thing?
"All right, does everyone have a broom? Good. Now," the professor demonstrated. "Raise your right hand over your broom and say, UP!"
"UP!"
As expected, Harry's broom jumped onto his hand at once, as did Ron's. Hermione's rolled a bit but stayed flat, Ron noted. A quick scan on the Slytherin crowd showed Malfoy had also done it the first try (much to the red head's annoyance), as did a dark-skinned boy with a sharp buzz cut, a rather round nose and round brown eyes—Zabini, wasn't it? The last one to be sorted? —and a bulky-looking square faced girl with long russet hair that Ron couldn't remember the name of. From between the square faced girl and another, more petite one with light brown hair and doe-like sky blue eyes, Greengrass was glaring at her broomstick who was happy to remain on the ground.
To the time traveler's left, Neville stared at his two friends then back to his immobile broom. "Wow, how'd you guys do that?"
The red head remembered having to try it twice before the broom gave a response, and it certainly didn't fly that strongly into his hand. Must be because I'm so used to flying by now. At his friend's pleading look, Ron suggested, "Try saying it more confidently. The brooms react to how you call to it. It's not reacting because it can tell that you don't want to fly."
"Oh. Right, obviously." Neville took another breath. "UP!"
A few more tries later, with Harry and Ron coaching their friend, the broom finally flew up to the boy's outstretched hand.
"I did it!" Neville said, his face aglow with delight. "Thanks, Ron, Harry!"
Ron smiled faintly back, before glancing at Hermione, whose broom had progressed to rolling about but still staying on the grass.
"Hermione, try saying it a little—"
"I'm fine, Weasley." The girl cut him off, glaring at her broomstick. "I can do this on my own."
The red head frowned. "I was just trying to help."
"And I didn't ask for it." Hermione then shouted again. "UP!"
The broom went a bit sideways, but it did go to Hermione's hand in the end. She shot Ron a self-satisfied look before turning away.
Ron raised a brow, not remember Hermione being this particularly cross with him before. At least, during their first year. What's her problem?
Madam Hooch then proceeded to show the students how to mount their brooms properly, correcting their grips along the way. Harry and Ron traded smirks at Malfoy's heated exchange with the teacher when she told him that he had been riding and gripping his broom wrong for years, and that "all your father's galleons in the world cannot change a bloody thing about it!" The former's smile broadened when, after correcting Harry's grip, Hooch came to Ron only to find that there was little for her to change.
"I've been flying since I was six, Madam Hooch. And five older brothers to show me how it's done." Ron explained. And you already taught me all this stuff in the past.
"Trust me, Weasley, I've had many students come to me with home taught flying experience." She jerked a thumb at Malfoy's direction. "And only a few such as yourself are able to do it right. And you and Potter look very comfortable on the broom for first years. Maybe next year, you could try for your Quidditch team, if you're interested."
Harry smiled shyly at the compliment, making Ron shake his head in mirth. Bloody hell, Harry's too cute for his age! This has to be borderline illegal!
But when Madam Hooch returned to center of the class, Ron's good cheer dropped almost at once.
"Now," The hawk-eyed lady said. "When I blow my whistle, kick off the ground hard. You will float up. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly to come back down. Everyone understood that?"
"Yes, Professor."
Ron's grip on his broom tightened, forcing himself to not look at Neville. This is it. Once Madam Hooch gives us the signal to fly, Neville will kick the ground too hard and end up falling. OK, Ron, you can do this. Just relax. Don't change anything anymore. Neville will be fine. Neville will be fine.
"On my whistle! Three—two—"
THUD!
A chorus of gasps went around Ron, who kept his gaze forward, knowing full well that Neville had kicked off before the whistle and was already floating away.
"Come back, boy!" He heard Madam Hooch call, but for some reason, Neville's cries were louder in his ears. "Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!"
Breathe in, Ron, breathe out. The boy's grip on his brooms was already digging on the wood. He'll be OK. You know he will. Just relax. It will only take a minute.
"Oh my, he's just shooting up!"
"Can't anyone stop him?"
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Aah!" But Neville kept going higher. "Someone, help! Please, I don't know how to stop this thing!"
Breathe in.
"No, no, no! He could fall! Neville, come back!" Hermione's worried prattle.
"Professor, shouldn't we—?"
"No, Potter, I will not risk another of you possibly—"
Breathe... Blue eyes flew open with a flash. Ah, Godric's pants!
"—Weasley?!" Ignoring Hooch's alarmed shouts, Ron deftly mounted his broom and shot up in the air.
"Woah!"
"Shite, look at him go!"
The cries of awe became fainter as Ron focused on only the feeling of flying and the white-faced Gryffindor floating fifteen feet high and counting.
"R—Ron!" Neville cried in relief when the other boy caught up to him. "Thank Merlin! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It's OK, Neville, I'm here to help. Now," Ron held out his hand. "Lean forward a bit, just a little, point the handle to the ground and slowly come down."
"I—I can't—"
"Yes, you can!" The time traveler's voice hardened. "Don't faint on me now, Neville! Just do it!"
"I—"
"We're close to past twenty feet, mate!" They were already way above the Forbidden Forest's highest tree. "It's now or never! Come on!"
The chubby boy took a deep breath then did as he was told. The broom stopped its ascent and bucked in protest.
"AH!" The boy nearly fell off his broom.
"Hold on tight. Keep it pointed down!" Ron shouted sharply. "You can do this, Neville! I got you, mate!"
Nodding tearfully, the blond Gryffindor continued to follow Ron's instructions, and the pair slowly but surely went lower and lower.
I'm sorry, Harry. Ron thought sadly behind his small smile for Neville. I tried, but I can't let Neville get hurt again. If this hurts your chances to get into the Quidditch team, I—I'll find a way to make it up to you, I swear. But…
"—AH!"
"Huh?" Bugger, I lost my focus! "NEVILLE!"
Neville slid sideways off his broom, ten feet off the ground, and despite Ron's best attempts to catch him, he didn't react fast enough, causing the poor boy to fall flat on the ground.
Ron quickly pulled his broom up to a halt—ignoring the gasps coming from the other students—as he crouched to help his friend up. "Shite, Neville, I'm so sorry!"
"Out of the way, out of the way!" Hooch pushed past the crowd around the boys before bending over the sobbing dark haired Gryffindor.
"Broken wrist," Ron's heart sank at what he heard her mutter. "You'll be all right, boy. Come on, get up! Everyone, get back!"
The students parted like a circular wave as Hooch stood up, an arm around a sobbing Neville.
"None of you is to move while I take him to the hospital wing. Any of you who tries go," She shot a pointed look at Ron. "Will be out of Hogwarts before you can say, 'Quidditch!'"
Ron could only nod numbly and watch as Hooch led his friend away, his fists clenched hard. Fuck it all! Even after all that, I still failed to save Neville!
He then felt a hand thump on his back. Harry was beaming at him breathlessly. "Wow, mate, you didn't tell me you could fly like that! That was amazing!"
Ron was quick to shake his head. "Nothing special, Harry." Wait till you see yourself fly! "Fat load of good that did, though."
"It was an accident! If you hadn't helped Neville get lower, he could have gotten more than just a broken wrist." The black-haired boy said. "And nothing special, he says. That's not what most of us down here think!"
That's when Ron noticed that he was surrounded by Gryffindors.
"Excellent flying there, mate!" Seamus said merrily with a clap on Ron's back.
"That was so brave of you!" Lavender gushed.
"And a bloody waste if they don't let you join the Quidditch team after seeing you fly!"
"B—Bullocks! Don't be daft, Dean" Ron spluttered, his ears burning and head whirling in disbelief. No, not me! I'm not the one who should be put on the team! It should be Harry! He's practically the Dumbledore of flying! And besides, you guys should be worried more about Neville! He's the one with the broken wrist! And speaking of Neville, whatever happened to—?
"Look!" A flash of yellow entered Ron's periphery, making him turn to see Malfoy snatch something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's nan sent him!"
Neville's Remembrall glinted in the afternoon sun, and Ron's heart did a backflip.
Harry stepped forward, his eyes shining like glinting emeralds. "Give that here, Malfoy!"
In no time at all, the two rivals were on the air, just as how it was supposed to be.
Or, at least, most of it.
"HARRY POTTER!"
The cheers on Harry's excellent catch of Neville's Remembrall died a quick death when in came Professor McGonagall, nostrils flaring, brows furrowed and eyes wide.
"Never—!" She bit out breathlessly. "In all my time at Hogwarts—!"
The other Gryffindors immediately went to defend their housemate ("Please, professor, it wasn't his fault—!" "Malfoy, he started it!"), but Ron, for the first time in days, allowed himself to relax. Maybe it was because of his crazy luck, or maybe because some things are really meant to happen no matter what he did, but he's glad that despite the changes, Harry would still be part of the Quidditch team after all. He wished he could give his best friend more reassurance, seeing as how Harry had gone pale and almost shaky while still clutching the Remembrall….
"Potter, Weasley, follow me."
—wait, what? Ron's eyes flew to McGonagall's severe face in shock. Why me?
Harry looked just as confused as he and Ron met each other's gazes. But since both knew better than to question their Head of House, the boys ducked their heads and walked numbly after her.
"What in the world were you two thinking?!"
Oh, Ron realized, standing awkwardly next to Harry in one of the unused classrooms McGonagall took them to. Didn't think she'd hear about my spectacular fail at saving Neville so fast.
"Sorry, Professor," began Harry. "But Malfoy took our friend's Remembrall. I—I just wanted to get it back for him. It—flying after him sounded like a good idea—"
"One that could have broken you neck, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall then wheeled at Ron. "And you, Mr. Weasley! Taking off unsupervised by Madam Hooch! You're lucky you didn't end up with broken bones like Mr. Longbottom did!"
"And I wasn't going just stand and let my friend get hurt." Ron said honestly. "And I know it was stupid of me, and Neville got hurt anyway. How is he anyway?"
A bit of McGonagall's anger died down at his question. "He's with Madam Pomfrey at the moment. She managed to heal his wrist, and will most likely be released in time for supper, as I have heard. But this is not about him."
She pushed her glasses up. "It is commendable that you two are brave enough to stand up for your friends, but there is a difference between bravery and recklessness. Recklessness is the way of the foolish, and I expect my lions to know the difference between the two."
Ron's brows twitched. "I know I could have handled the situation better, but I'm not sorry for doing what I did!" Even if it would have meant Harry not getting into the team on their first year, Ron now realized. No matter the reason, he would never be able to let someone get hurt on his watch. Sacrificing chess pieces is one thing, but humans—his friends—were not mere pawns.
"And if something like that were to happen again, I would have done the same thing in a heartbeat. Because I'll never let my mates get hurt if I can help it." The boy then coughed. "And for the record, Professor, you have to admit, Harry is one mean flier! Would be a waste if he doesn't make it in the Quidditch team."
Both Harry and McGonagall were staring at him for a good minute, and Ron was becoming increasingly flustered. Double bullocks. Was it something he said again?
"Wait a moment here, you two." McGonagall finally said in a clipped tone before closing the classroom door behind her.
There was silence for a few second before Harry whispered, "Do you think this will get us expelled?"
Ron shook his head quickly. "No way, mate! I mean, not you," Because she's most likely off go get Wood and make you the new seeker. "Err, talking back at her was probably not the best idea I've had in a while."
"I don't know. Most of your ideas are usually brilliant," said Harry.
"First time I've heard it that way."
"And if you think Professor McGonagall won't get me expelled, I'm sure you won't be too." Harry added. "And I meant to say this earlier, but what you did for Neville, that was really great. More than your flying."
"Nah, you would have done the same for us, Harry."
"I think you forgot the part where I just stood there watching you do the work."
Ron shrugged. "And you went after Neville's Remembrall and showed Malfoy. Stop selling yourself short."
"I could say the same for you," retorted Harry.
"All part of being the sidekick, Harry. You still have a lot to learn."
The door opened again. McGonagall had returned with a surprised Oliver Wood in tow. Ron had to fight the urge to grin.
"Potter, Weasley, this is Oliver Wood." She said briskly. "Wood, I've found you a Seeker."
"A what?" Harry whispered questioningly as Wood's expression morphed into that of a child's who heard that the holidays came early.
"Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely. Potter's a natural, unlike anything I have ever seen. It was your first time on a broom, wasn't it, Potter?"
Said boy nodded slowly, and while McGonagall continued to detail Harry's amazing catch with the Remembrall, Ron clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Congrats, mate, I think they just made you part of the Quidditch team!"
Wonder made Harry's eyes glow. "Really? But I thought—"
"They're obviously making an exception. Wood's the current Gryffindor team captain."
"Ever seen a Quidditch game, Potter?" The fifth year said excitedly. When Harry said no, Wood studied the younger boy carefully. "Looks built to be one, too. They ought to be light but sturdy. We'll have to get him a good broom though. There aren't any spare ones good enough for a Seeker."
"I'll have a word with Professor Dumbledore, see if we can bend the first-year rule."
Harry turned to Ron again. "I'm not…dreaming, am I?"
"I can pinch you if you want."
"And what about Weasley here?" Ron turned sharply when he heard Wood mention him.
"Bending the rules for Potter will be hard enough. I doubt we can do the same for Weasley." McGonagall sounded frustrated. "But from what Rolanda has told me, the boy is just as good in flying as Potter is. Maybe next year, he could be your reserve Chaser or Keeper. There's no one in your team who can take your post once you graduate, isn't that right?"
Wood's scrutinizing gaze went to Ron this time. "Hmm, lanky one, sturdy looking. You play Quidditch with your brothers, right? What position do you usually play?"
"Keeper, usually. Sometimes the Chaser." Ron answered. "But I, err, I always fancied myself a Keeper more."
Wood smiled broadly. "Can I take Weasley with me when I teach Potter the ropes, see what they can both do?"
"Of course. Now," McGonagall peered sternly at Harry and Ron from behind her square spectacles. "Do not speak any of this to you peers, understood? We do not want the word out, at least until I get the confirmation from Professor Dumbledore. And Potter, once you make it in the team, I expect you to practice and train hard." The aged woman sniffed quite indignantly. "Flattened by Slytherin in the last match. I couldn't look at Severus for weeks…!"
Then she smiled. "Your father, James, would have been proud. He was one of the best Chasers Gryffindor has ever had."
Just like every other time someone would mention his parents, Harry went misty eyed. "Really?"
"And a fine Quidditch captain, if I may add. Now," McGonagall nodded to Wood. "Wood will like to talk to you a bit more, arrange a schedule for your next meeting, and then you're free to leave, Potter."
Ron blinked. "Err, what about me, Professor?"
"Not just yet, Weasley." The woman inclined her head to Wood and Harry. "You two may go."
Harry looked like he was about to protest, eyeing Ron worriedly so the red head nodded reassuringly. "I'll see you at dinner, Harry."
After Wood led the reluctant younger boy away, McGonagall turned to Ron.
"Am I still in trouble?"
"Remember what I told you? About bravery and recklessness being two different things?" Said McGonagall. "You are a brilliant boy, Weasley, and most of my fellow professors spoke highly of you. Irma has even spoke of how often she has seen you in the library so early in the year, reading on higher year text."
It took Ron a second to understand who McGonagall was referring to. "Madam Pince? I always thought she hated me."
McGonagall's lips twitched. "She does give fair assessment where it is due, and she said that you were bright for a first year. But also, stubborn and should be more mindful around authority."
Now that sounds more like her, thought Ron.
"The point I wish to make is that you have the potential to go far, Weasley. I understand the need to jump in defense of your friends, but you must choose your battles carefully." The professor went on. "This is a small incident, and fortunately, no one was severely hurt. But there might come a time when you will need to think before you leap."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying I should let my friends get hurt?"
"Far from it. However, you should not let your desire to help them cloud your judgement." McGonagall's eyes darkened slightly. "I pray you will never have to face a situation where you will have to, but there are instances that sacrifices must be made. No matter how hard you may wish it, the truth is that there are times when you cannot save everyone."
Cold dread enveloped the time traveler for a moment before frowning. "But I can bloody well try. Life is not a chess game, and no one's a bloody pawn!"
McGonagall appeared taken aback by his sharp rebuke, and then Ron realized that no eleven-year-old should have been able to think that. "Ah, sorry, professor. Just got caught up. I shouldn't have talked back like that. Just, uh…" He racked his brains. "I just don't like the thought of letting my friends and family getting hurt because I let them. Sorry."
"…You play chess, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron blinked. "Err, yeah. Kind of a Weasley tradition, really."
McGonagall smiled at him. "I would like to see you play someday, if you have the time." She then gestured at the door. "All right, you are free to go."
"Huh? I am?"
"But keep what I said in mind, Mr. Weasley. Someday, when you are older, you will understand what I mean."
Ron could only nod bemusedly, but before closing the door, McGonagall called to him again.
"You're not only brilliant but also a good child, Mr. Weasley," said the Transfiguration professor. "However, do try not to play the hero all the time?"
"…Yes, Professor." Ron answered easily, because it wasn't his job to be the hero. He was the side character, whose job is to support Harry and to help his best friend in the fight against Voldemort when the right time came. It just so happened that he was also on a mission to save lives and change the future for the better, but that doesn't change his lot in life.
Ronald Bilius Weasley— the sidekick, the unremarkable, the insignificant, just another Weasley. Eternally overshadowed by his brilliant and talented best friends.
And if it meant keeping all his friends and loved ones safe, then he was honestly fine with that.
(Besides, everyone will know soon enough that it's Harry who has the hero complex.)
"Ron, there you are!"
"Hullo, Neville, Harry." Ron greeted his friends when they met up in the Great Hall. "Nice to see your arm better, Neville. And," he scratched his head. "Sorry about letting you fall. That was a bugger move on my part."
The Longbottom shook his head. "Don't be daft, Ron. I should be thanking you! If it weren't for you, I could have had worse!"
No, you wouldn't have. Ron groaned to himself, but because he couldn't tell how he knew just that, he just nodded instead. It was then that he noticed Harry's pensive expression, which was unusual considering what happened earlier. "What's with you, Harry?"
"…I may have done something stupid."
Ron looked to Neville for details, who looked flustered. "I'm so sorry, Harry—"
"No, Neville, it's not your fault. It's all on Malfoy." Harry's eyes narrowed angrily. "He just couldn't have enough of being an arse."
"What happened?"
"For some reason, we ran into Malfoy and his goons after Neville and I left the Hospital Wing. Malfoy was being a prat, as usual, taunting me about my so-called expulsion, calling Neville stupid and you being a showoff to take everyone's minds off you being poor."
The time traveler clenched his fists. "Why that insufferable ponce!"
"And then he suddenly challenges me to a wizard's duel, like I'm supposed to know what that means. And I—" Harry shook his head. "I just got so angry at him, especially when he said that I'd have to settle for Neville as my second because you weren't around. And I just, reacted."
"…You said you would duel him, didn't you?"
"Trophy room, around midnight." Neville said quietly. "But I have a bad feeling about this, Harry."
"Well, I'm not letting that prat go thinking he's gotten the best of us." The green-eyed boy said angrily.
"Uh, Harry, remember what McGonagall said before," Ron tried. "About the difference between being brave and being reckless?"
Harry frowned. "Too late for that, mate. I already said yes, and I can't back down or else Malfoy will hold it over our heads forever."
Neville groaned. "How do you even know he's going to show up?"
"How do we know he won't?"
Ron massaged his temples, knowing very well how this will end. But it's not like Harry would have found out about the trap door any other way, would he? And it looked like Harry wanted to keep his word no matter what, despite Ron's and Neville's protests.
Perhaps some things are really just meant to happen.
Besides, Ron consoled himself. At least no one got hurt this time too. If you don't count being traumatized by a three-headed dog.
Argh, keeping up with HP canon and lore is so hard, especially without a beta. Just when I thought I have everything factchecked, something slips past my radar again. (T_T) Good thing I have awesome readers to help me by pointing out what I miss. And I do consider your comments so don't hesitate to give me feedback. Helpful tips are always very much welcome.
Notes:
- The concept of Lecturers in Hogwarts was inspired by the fanfic series The Chessmaster by Flye Autumne featuring the Golden Trio in Slytherin, and the highs and lows of Noble Houses political intrigue. IRL, Lecturer is the title held by college and university level teachers who are in the early stages of their academic career. An overly simple way to put it is that all undergraduate level teachers begin as lecturers then rise in the ranks as they gain experience, further education, etc. until they become qualified for the highest academe rank of Professor.
- After some research and a bit of planning, this is what I imagine a typical Hogwarts school day routine will be like: from Mondays to Fridays, classes start at 9 AM until quarter to 11. Classes resume after lunch at 1 PM, with the school day ending at 4 or 5 PM. Students have the whole days off on Saturdays and Sundays. Daily mealtime schedules are 6 to 8:30 AM for breakfast, 12 to 1 PM for lunch, and 6 to 8 PM for supper. Curfew for first year and second year students is at 8 PM while for third year and above, curfew is at 9; and for all year levels, curfew ends at 5 AM. Makes sense?
- It's not mentioned in canon that Cedric and Ron had a friendship of sorts prior to Hogwarts, but seeing that Arthur and Amos were friends, it's possible that their kids may have met at a few times for playdates and such. As to why they didn't speak to each other during Harry's fourth year in canon, childhood friends can drift apart, even without Hogwarts divisive House system. Happens a lot in real life.
UP NEXT:
In a word, Halloween. In two words, a troll. In three words (and a contraction), Ron's in trouble. Sorry, Ron, but your days of being unremarkable are nearly over.
