Just a quick shoutout that I have my Tumblr site up and running at chuchiotaku(period)tumblr(period)com! (Because ffnet won't let me post links. But you guys get it, right?) I'll be posting my story writing notes, ideas and even some deleted chapters/extras over there so feel free to check it out if you're interested.
And after some more thinking (and thanks to everyone's suggestions), TBA years 1 to 7 will remain a single fanfic, with maybe some changes in the cover pics to reflect the changing years. Thank you so much for everyone's feedback on this matter.
Lastly, some reviewers have mentioned their worry/disappointment that this fanfic will no longer be updated. I...don't remember implying that. Did I? O_O In all seriousness, I do intend to finish Year One and go as far as I can (hopefully until the very end). So no worries on that front for now, mates.
Again much gratitude to my awesome beta, A.C. nelli. But since they're on a holiday, this post went un-betaed. So all mistakes here are mine, until the edited version is released.
Chapter 9:
The First Quidditch Game
"Ronald Weasley has been attacked by the troll."
Fred felt like he had just been doused by a gallon of ice water, and George's tight grip on his arm was a not so pleasant reminder that this wasn't just a bad dream.
"Wh—what?" All of Percy's uptight pomp fell off his posture, his face a near bloodless pallor. "But—but how?! You said that thing was in the dungeons! Ron couldn't have possibly gone there!"
"Indeed." McGonagall's eyes were heavy with guilt. "Quirinus may have been mistaken. Mr. Weasley was attacked in the washroom, not knowing about the troll because he had not come down for the Feast."
"And Ron? Is Ron OK?" Fred snapped, far harsher than he knew he should have but he frankly couldn't care less.
"The troll has been dealt with by Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Granger, though the other three gave Mr. Weasley the bulk of the credit." A hint of pride was evident in McGonagall's tone for a brief moment before it turned sad. "However, he was injured by it, and had to be taken to the Hospital Wing."
Sweet Merlin. Fred thought, utterly horrified.
Wasn't it only a few weeks ago, when he and George congratulated Harry for becoming the new seeker, that they told Ron of the good word Oliver put in for him, and how proud they were of him for it? Hadn't it been just hours before, when he and George overhead some of their housemates whispering about the row between Ron and Granger, and how no one's seen their little brother afterwards?
George had voiced his worry then. "Shouldn't we go look for him, Fred? It isn't like Ronnie to miss the Feast."
Fred had been concerned too but he shrugged it off. "He'll be fine. He just needs some time alone. Just you wait, he'll be down here gorging on all this food any moment now."
But Ron never showed up. And by the time Quirrell had told them about the troll, the Great Hall had been such a huge, panicky mess that it was much later—when they couldn't see a tall red head among the Gryffindor first years—did they realize that Ron hadn't come back at all.
The three older Weasleys stiffly followed McGonagall to the Hospital Wing, shaken and subdued. Fred knew his twin must be drowning in guilt by now, but he didn't have the strength to reassure him that the fault was all Fred's. George had always been the "nicer" twin, the one who had a bigger conscience and a softer heart. If Ronnie getting hurt felt like a thousand punches to the gut for Fred, then it must be a hell of a lot worse for his more sensitive better half.
All those feelings grew exponentially when they were finally shown Ron, with bandages wrapped around his head, jaw and neck; and purple bruises that stood stark against his pale, freckled skin of his face and arms. Fred was frankly scared to find out why the bandages had to cover the entire right side of Ron's face.
Percy had fallen to his knees, a "Ronnie" escaping his lips in a broken whisper. Fred couldn't blame him; he felt like collapsing himself.
"He had a concussion and a head wound, from being slammed to the wall by the troll. The cuts on his face were made by broken glass, a few managed to get into his right eye. There are also a few broken bones, but nothing I couldn't mend." Madam Pomfrey informed them kindly. "I'll have to keep him here for a night or two and cover his injured eye so he can make a full recovery."
Those words did nothing to assuage the brewing storm in Fred's chest.
This should not have happened. Little Ronnie was only in his first year, a few months in Hogwarts. He was supposed to have the time of his life with the other ickle firsties, not get beaten up by a troll. His big brothers were supposed to be there to protect him from something like this. Instead, the gigantic prat that is Fred Weasley ignored his instincts and Ron had to pay the price.
What have I done? Fred felt utterly sick with guilt and rage. If only he had taken George's concern more seriously. If only they had been there to drag Ron with them to the Feast…
Bill and Charlie asked us to look after Ron. Fred numbly remembered. Oh Merlin, they are going to be beyond pissed when they find out about this. Not to mention Ginny, Mum and Dad. Hell, I'm beyond pissed at myself for letting this happen! If Charlie decides to murder me over this, I'm bloody letting him!
Percy and George had taken seats on either side of their little brother, Percy with his head on his hands while George leaned to rest his arms on Ron's bed.
The older, wilder Weasley twin stood subdued by George's on Ron's other side, a hand gingerly brushing against the still fingers.
I'm sorry, little brother. He thought morosely, his eyes burning. I'm so sorry.
Then those still fingers twitched. Then a croak, "F—Fred?"
"…Ronnie?"
By the time Ron was released from the Hospital Wing, the whole school was abuzz with news about the troll. So when he and his friends entered the Great Hall after his discharge, there was a short but noticeable hush around them before the incessant whispering similar to buzzing bees returned, though this time all eyes were on him.
Ron found the whole thing especially unnerving, especially since it hadn't been a big deal in the past. Didn't Neville say that McGonagall told their fellow Gryffindors to put a lid on their nosing in? But judging by the way most of the Gryffindor table was eyeing Ron like a dog would a cut of steak, they weren't as scared of their Head of House as they should be...
It was Harry's hand on his back that reminded Ron that this wasn't a bizarre, food-induced dream. "Let's get something to eat, Ron. I'm famished."
Ron smiled gratefully at Harry's nonplussed air. "You and me both, mate." He answered, tone as light as he could manage. "There, I see Seamus and Dean—"
"Percy! Good morning!" Hermione greeted the Gryffindor Prefect who was sitting at the edge of the Gryffindor table. "Would you mind if we sat down here?"
An unreadable emotion crossed Percy's eyes when they met Ron's, but then he nodded. "Of course not. Sit wherever you like."
Ron looked at his friend's relieved expressions strangely as Neville gently pushed him to sit in between Harry and Percy. Was there something else going on around here that he wasn't aware of?
Nevertheless, he was grateful for his friends' decision. Between Harry and Percy—both apparently capable of sporting glares as intimidating as Death's—no one had been brave enough to disturb their breakfast with the crazy rumors going on around them.
(Ron had been especially proud of Harry about this. He almost wanted to goad Malfoy into being traumatized forever by those green eyes of fiery doom. See if he'll come up with something as stupid as that "Potter Stinks" badge come fourth year!)
There was also the fact that he was in such a good mood that Hermione was their friend again. Sure, most of their conversations were about classes, but at least she wasn't acting overly competitive anymore and had seemingly taken his advice to heart. Well, she did sound a bit like a bossy know it all while discussing Potions with Neville. But Ron could tell she was trying, just as he could see Neville genuinely trying to do better at Potions instead of aiming at just making it out of every class alive. Ron didn't know what inspired the change in Neville, but he was glad for it.
All this made him more determined to convince Hermione and Neville to join the Study Clubs.
Speaking of the clubs, Ron suspected that the rumors had not escaped them either, and had been a bit nervous on how he should handle their reactions. At least during classes, meal times and in the tower, Ron's friends had taken to shooing the other students away when they were becoming too persistent, and students wouldn't dare make a ruckus at the library with Madame Pince's strict watch.
But it turned out he didn't need to be too concerned.
While there had been excitement—ranging from mild interest, like that of Professor Durand's, to eager curiosity like Professor Hui's—it was all restrained enough that it didn't make Ron want to disapparate on sight. He'd find out later that he had his friends in the Study Clubs to thank for that.
"We thought that you would have enough of dealing with those rumors and the attention out there," said Penelope. "Though you can't really blame them, can you? I mean, come on! A handful of firsties, beating a troll? I would have been a right sobbing mess if I had run into a troll in my first year!"
"The rumors are all exaggerated." Ron answered dismissively. "First off, I wasn't alone, I was with Harry, Hermione and Neville. Second, I didn't go off in a 'valiant hunt to slay a monster' or some other similar rubbish. Third, we just got lucky with the bloody thing. Who would have thought Wingardium Leviosa could be such a lifesaver?"
From his left, Sue was listening to everything with concerned air. "Honestly, I'm just so glad you weren't seriously hurt! I know you must have heard this a lot, but a mountain troll could have killed you easily! Good thing your friends were there to help." She then giggled. "I bet he must have looked so heroic, Harry Potter taking down the troll!"
"I'm sure he did, Sue." Penelope said before casting a side glance at Ron. "As sure as I am that you're downplaying your part in it too, Ronnie. I'd wager you got a couple of spells in."
"Oi, I'm not—"
"Well obviously!" Sue pat Ron's head affectionately like one would a pet cat. "He wouldn't be our Ronnie if he didn't. And it goes without saying that I'm sure he showed that mean old troll a thing or two!"
Ron flushed and sent the Ravenclaw first year a mock scowl. "Oh come on, Sue! Not you too!"
The brunette smiled innocently. "What's wrong with calling you Ronnie? I think it really suits you!"
"Nice try with the scowl, Ronnie. But you still look too cute to be intimidating." Penelope laughed before pinching one of Ron's cheeks. "Give it a few more years."
...Bloody Diggory. Ron had a half-mind to hex Cedric for always calling him that stupid nickname in front of the girls, were it not for the fact that the older Hufflepuff had been helpful in keeping the study clubs' interest in the troll incident to a tolerable degree. According to Sue, Cedric had told their clubmates to not pester Ron with what happened at Halloween, and had even at one point told off a group of Ravenclaws who cornered the red head while on the way to Ancient Runes.
Ron had been so grateful about it that he had forgotten to be outwardly miffed when Cedric ruffled his hair—"Any time, Ronnie!"—after the time traveller said his thanks.
Nevertheless, the Halloween incident had affected the way the majority of Hogwarts' population perceived him. Though most of it meant more unwanted scrutiny and expectations, there had been a number of positive changes.
By that, Ron meant a few noteworthy interactions with some of the Slytherins.
So far, the only Slytherin in Arithmancy class, Pucey, had pretty much left Ron alone. Not to say he was an arrogant sod, but Ron found him more to be the keeping to himself type of guy. When Ron had to ask him for the homework Durand had already checked and returned, Pucey had not only given him back his work without a fuss, but also outlined to Ron the topics he had missed (more linear equations) and even offered to tutor him if the redhead needed help.
That made Ron blink. "You wouldn't mind? Don't you have Quidditch practice?"
Pucey shrugged. "So? If there's something I need to do, I simply make time for it. Besides, it's part of the representative's responsibilities to help younger years struggling with the subject. Though the way I hear it, you and Li are doing all right on your own."
"Sue's amazing with numbers. I'm just trying to get by," said Ron. "So if someone's having a hard time with Arithmancy, they can go to you? No offense, but you're only in third year."
"And Li's only a first year yet she's doing better than those actually taking the elective." The Slytherin pointed out. "Arithmancy has been my strongest subject ever since I could hold a quill, Weasley. It's because of that and me being one of the upperclassmen without a lot of responsibilities that Durand made me representative."
"Oh." The time traveller said in awkward wonder. Now that he thought about it, he had seen Pucey with Cedric and another Hufflepuff—Truman, if Ron remember correctly—talking while the latter two were scribbling on their parchment. If the older student meant what he was saying, then he might really not be so bad…
The dark haired Slytherin stared at him for a second before saying, "You're thinking I'm not as bad as I look, right?"
Ron's eyes widened before his ears turned bright red. "Wh—wha—?" Shite, he didn't say it out loud, did he?
"You didn't have to, Weasley, you're a bloody open book." Pucey smirked. "And for the record, you're not so bad for a Lion. Just thought I'd put that out there."
The Slytherin then left before Ron could say another word, leaving the eighteen-turned-eleven confused over what the whole thing was about.
But just when he was close to forgetting the matter entirely, Ancient Runes happened.
It turns out that the heating rune formation they did was meant to be a sort of practical exercise so that all club participants, no matter the year level, can experience a bit of rune casting. After one week of practicing that particular formation, Hui divided the class into two groups: the younger students—from first to second years—were to practice memorizing the Elder Futhark alphabet by translating some select passages; while the older students were to practice casting runes properly.
Ron knew it was only right because first and second years were supposedly still in the process of harnessing their magical core, but he couldn't help but feel a little envious, seeing Cedric working on what looked like a three runic formation meant to shine a kind of signal light that seemed to change properties depending on the fourth rune placed…
While here I am translating a handful of lines from, The boy looked over his passage with a flat stare. The Tale of the Three Brothers. I swear, It is just messing with me at this point. But got to master the basics, right? Now what line was I on again?
"And Death spoke to them, angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was also cunning. He pretended to congratulate the brothers for their magic, and said that they each had earned a prize for being clever enough to outwit Death."
Ron was in the middle of wrapping up his translation with the runes for Death (ᛞ ᛖ ᚨ ᚦ) when he heard a cough.
"Weasley."
The boy blinked in equal parts confusion and disbelief before it registered that no, he wasn't imagining things. One of his seatmates finally decided to speak to him after months of quiet, if not aloof, coexistence.
"Oi, Weasley."
"Err, sorry, I heard you," Ron schooled his face into a neutral expression. "Nott, right? What is it?"
He watched Nott trade an unsure glance with Zabini, who barely noticeably shook his head with disbelieving eyes, before Nott caught his gaze.
"It appears that mine and Blaise's recent translations are…inadequate. Since we are three of the only first years in this club, it would be in our best interests to review each other's work before we turn them in to Professor Hui."
It took Ron another second to process what Nott just said. "So you want us to help each other out?"
Nott cleared his throat. "A mere proposition, Weasley. One we all would benefit from in the long run."
Merlin, can't these Slytherins just talk like normal folks? Ron's irritation must have shown on his face again because Zabini suddenly huffed. "If you don't want to, then just say it. I told you, Theo, it won't be—"
"I didn't say I didn't want to, Zabini," snapped Ron. "It's just that if you wanted help, just ask! Contrary to what you lot might think, I don't bite. Now give me those." The red head then snatched Nott's parchment before the two Slytherins could do anything about it.
It took Ron half a minute to read Nott's work—The Wizard and the Hopping Pot—before he picked up his quill. "It's all right, but you're meant to use fehu instead of ansuz for your F's, like here," He encircled the ᚨ at the the beginning of the word 'father'. "So you should have used ansuz for your A's instead of eihwaz. But I can see why you'll mix fehu and ansuz up. Ansuz looks more like an F than an A, doesn't it?"
"I see." Nott nodded slowly after Ron handed the parchment back. "…My thanks, Weasley."
Ron shrugged easily. "Honestly, this is way better than you pretending I don't exist. Anyway, want us to review yours, Zabini?"
The black-skinned wizard eyed his own work warily until Nott elbowed him. Zabini winced before wordlessly handing the object to Ron.
For some reason, that gave the Gryffindor the gall to wag his eyebrows. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Zabini scowled. "Shut up, Weasley."
And so ever since then, the three boys began trading homework and notes on translations while the higher years busied themselves with their rune stones. While Ancient Runes hadn't been particularly difficult for him so far (not like with Arithmancy), Ron had come to appreciate having someone else read over his work to correct it before he turned it in, not to mention it made him see a side of the two Slytherins he never would have had in his old life.
To start with, he never would have thought Zabini was passionate about Ancient Runes, having created a table of both the Elder and Younger Futhark runes and memorizing them in his spare time (which Ron figured was part of why Zabini would often mix the symbols up). Another was that Nott was pretty bloody meticulous to the point that the time traveller found it rather funny. Seriously, he never thought he'd meet someone whose handwriting is tinier and tidier than Hermione's!
(Now if only he could get them to actually speak like normal human beings…)
It wasn't a friendship, per se, but considering that they had been borderline hostile to him, Ron would take what he could get. And while he had learned his lesson to not be too pushy about making friends, Ron can't help but hope that things would go that way in the future. Or at least, to the point that he would be sure Nott and Zabini won't be something to worry about someday.
Because Ron at the moment already had a bit on his plate, more than being pestered for what really happened back with the troll—like Charlie's old wand.
Ron couldn't believe that it took him nearly getting his friends hurt to see that he had to do something about it soon. After the troll incident, the wand had seemingly assumed a driftwood state, cold and lifeless at Ron's hands, neither a hindrance nor a help. It was fine as it is for now, but Ron knew that more was to come this year, and he can't allow himself to be dragged down by a wand that seemingly hates him.
But what can he do about it?
It was what he started mulling over as soon as he got caught up with all the school and club work, his readings and thawing the flames of interest on the Halloween disaster. Speaking of readings, Ron had picked up a book on wandlore to learn more about the problem, and what he read didn't shed a single bit of light on the solution.
"The ash wand cleaves to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, because it will lose power and skill. This tendency is extreme if paired with a core of unicorn."
Well Celestina Warbeck's pants, I do have the best kind of luck. Ron growled at the memory of that annoying passage. Of all the second hand wands, I just have to get the one that is the least cooperative. OK, so second hand wands are always a bad idea, but not even Neville had this much trouble with his! This wand is just as stubborn as Charlie, for Merlin's sake!
But the book said that the ash wand will lose power and skill if it was passed on, right? But I get the feeling that that's not what's happening with this thing. It's as if it's holding back on purpose, then suddenly letting out that power all in one go. His blue eyes darkened in bemusement. Are wands supposed to be able to do that? I know they're made of magical materials, and Ollivander always kept saying 'the wand chooses the wizard'. But the way Charlie's old wand is acting…as if it has a will of its own…
"For the love of Merlin, Weasley, get your head out of the clouds and focus!"
A heated reprimand from Ron's left made the boy flinch and wince apologetically. "Err, my bad."
Greengrass' eyes were glaring daggers from where she stood near their cauldron. "If I catch you one more time, I swear to all things magical, I will push you headfirst into that cauldron! Now where are those lionfish spines and the flobberworm mucus? The potion's almost red!"
"All right, all right, I said I was sorry already! Merlin, woman!" He hissed under his breath before getting the aforementioned spines.
Maybe worrying about this over Potions isn't the best idea. The boy conceded after he wordlessly handed the ingredients to his Potions partner. Forget Snape, I'm more worried about Greengrass actually making good of her threat. Bloody girl's already a right fright and she's only eleven! It's official, Slytherins are weird!
For this week, the class was set to brew the Wiggenweld Potion, which was one of the more complicated first year potions. Ron wasn't too worried about how theirs would turn out, but since perfectionism seems to be a common trait among Slytherins he knew (save for Malfoy and his cronies), Greengrass was on edge while making sure that the potion meets those expectations.
And me spacing out must be not helping. Ron winced again, this time out of guilt. "I'm really sorry, Greengrass. I just have a lot in mind lately."
For a minute, it looked like Greengrass was going to give him the cold shoulder over focusing on the cauldron, until she held out a hand. "Flobberworm mucus."
After Ron gave her the bowl of the stuff, and a few seconds of stirring, she spoke again. "If you were anyone else, I would have thought it would be about the upcoming Quidditch game. Almost everyone loses their focus during the season."
Ron blinked then gasped. "It's already Quidditch season?"
"You're not even aware." Greengrass huffed. "That just proves my point. But considering that it will be the first time Potter plays for you House as a Seeker, and he's your best friend, shouldn't you know better than I that it's the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match next week?"
"How do you even—? Wait, never mind, it's Hogwarts. Secrets never stay secret." Ron remembered Harry coming back later than usual and sometimes missing their morning jogs lately, then it clicked. "Oh shite, I'm a terrible friend! I can't believe I forgot about Harry's first game."
"You have a few more days to get back into Potter's good graces about it." Greengrass said dismissively. "Not that I think you'll need it, after you saved him and your other friends from that troll."
Ron rolled his eyes. "I did not save them. I helped them beat it."
"Please, Weasley. Potter, I can begin to believe, but the other two? Longbottom can barely hold himself together around Professor Snape. And how did Granger help you? Spout by the book lines at the troll and lecture it to death?"
"Watch it, Greengrass." He snapped lowly. "Neville and Hermione are far braver than you think. How would you have done if it had been you who was there?"
"That's easy. I wouldn't even be there." The blonde girl said coolly. "Unlike you Gryffindors, we Slytherins know when to fight and when to bid our time or back down. I wouldn't have gone after a troll or anything remotely dangerous unless I had a very good reason."
"They were worried about me because I didn't show up at the Feast. That counts as a very good reason." Ron countered. "So if anyone's to blame for that shite going south, it's me."
Green eyes gave him an appraising side glance. "Right. That monumental row you had with Granger."
The boy felt his ears burn. "Even you lot have heard of that?"
"You two weren't exactly whispering back then, were you?" She shook her head. "Honestly, I don't understand why you've tried so hard. She wasn't going to be any good to you."
"Meaning?"
"All Granger has going for her is her smarts. A little too by the books but smart nonetheless. But you are capable enough to pass school without her, so she's no help there." Greengrass ticked a finger up to prove her point. "If not for that, then what else is she good for? She's terrible with people, and she's a muggleborn, both of which won't help you make any right connections."
Bloody Slytherin "everything I associate with has to be useful to me" mentality. The Weasley boy exhaled slowly. "It's not about what she's good for, Greengrass. Being someone's friend doesn't have to be based on how useful they will be." A short pause. "I wanted to be her friend…just because."
Greengrass raised a brow. "Just because?"
"She's bossy. She's not good with people. She can be so stubborn that she drives me barmy. But then, she's also loyal. She looks out for others even when she's bad at looking out for herself. And she knows she isn't good with making friends, which is why she keeps trying to do better." Ron went on. "Sure, she could be mighty helpful someday. But it's not about that for me. Never have been. Someone's my friend because I like them, and it doesn't take a lot for me to want to be their friend."
(In the past, that would have been a bit of a lie, as the old Ron wouldn't have gone anywhere near a Slytherin if he could help it. But that was exactly what the Ron now would want to be. And just like Hermione, he was doing his best to get to that point too.)
"Also, while I've come to learn to not be too pushy about making friends, I'd still like to get it across that the offer is open. To most anyway."
"By most, you mean?"
"Well, you, to start with. Maybe two or three more Slytherins."
Ron felt smug satisfaction at watching Greengrass' face slacken in surprise, nearly dropping her ladle. "Wh—what?"
"I mean that, if you somehow find yourself in trouble with a troll or something like that, you can count on me to help bail you out. Or at least be a very good distraction for the getaway plan." He shrugged with a cheeky smile. "Just because."
The fumes of the Wiggenweld potion must be messing with his vision, because why did Greengrass' normally ivory face look rather pink all of a sudden?
A look in the cauldron made Ron blink in confusion. "But it's yellow. That doesn't make any—"
There was a clatter of a wooden bowl.
"Honey, Weasley!"
"Oi, I'm right next to you. No need to shout—!"
"Honey. Now!"
"Merlin, Greengrass, what the hell's your problem this time?!"
While Potions ended on a rather weird note (Greengrass wouldn't meet his eyes for the rest of the class), Ron had his partner to thank for reminding him of Harry's upcoming game. Not only because it was an important event in his best friend's life, but also because it was the first time that Harry's life had been in real danger.
Knowing this, Ron couldn't find a good reason to keep Harry from playing. Dumbledore and Snape were there, and Hagrid will be there to help Ron guide his friends to stop Quirrel. Not to mention the unique way Harry caught the Snitch at the time had been both memorable and useful to them in the future.
And even if he had said good reason, how is he even going to make it happen? Oliver would skin him alive without magic if Ron tried anything, and he remembered Harry really, really looking forward to the game, no matter how nervous it made him.
Which brought Ron to the next important bit.
Should he convince his friends that, despite seemingly convincing evidence, it wasn't Snape but Quirrel who is the real threat? Ron knew he would be hard-pressed to do so, especially after Snape pulled the same stunt of confiscating Quidditch Through the Ages from Harry, which led to Harry seeing Snape's leg wound and overhearing the man complaining about Fluffy.
Neville, who had never liked their Potions Professor, had readily agreed with Harry's conclusion that Snape tried to get past the trapdoor last Halloween after letting the troll loose as as a distraction. Hermione, on the other hand, was still on the fence about it.
"I know he's not very nice, but I don't think he'd try to steal something that Dumbledore is protecting," argued Hermione.
"Not very nice is a huge understatement," said Neville. "I don't know about the Headmaster, but I wouldn't trust Snape. Besides, what other reason could he have for getting anywhere near that dog?"
"…I don't know, mates, I'm with Hermione on this one." Ron tried to convince his two other friends. "I get why you think Snape's suspicious, but isn't he a little too suspicious? For all we know he's just a red herring."
Neville blinked. "A herring? Why would Snape be a fish?"
"It just means that Snape is some sort of distraction, misdirecting us from the real culprit. At least in this context." Hermione explained while shooting Ron an approving look. "I'm impressed, Ron. I'm surprised you know that muggle expression!"
The red head coughed, covering up his cold sweat over the slip-up. He only knew about that term because Hermione used it once. "May have heard it from someone at home. Dad loves everything about muggles, and Bill and Percy took up Muggle Studies.
"Anyway, what's important is that we still don't have enough proof that Snape was trying to steal the—whatever it is in that trapdoor. We don't even know what it is or why it's so important." Ron clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let's all just turn in so we can be ready for Harry's big game tomorrow. I bet a good lot of my money on you catching that Snitch, Potter, so you better shape up. But no pressure."
Harry blanched. "You didn't!"
Of course not. Ron didn't even have the bare minimum needed to enter the underground Quidditch betting pool, which was a darn shame. But if it would keep Harry distracted from Snape and the trapdoor, the red head decided to leave his best mate guessing.
The following day, Harry looked as dreadful as Ron remembered, hardly looking at his plate by the time the time traveller arrived at the Great Hall after his morning run.
"You've got to eat something, Harry!" Hermione said in exasperation and worry. "You might end up falling off your broom from hunger if you don't!"
"I'm really not hungry, Hermione."
"Just a bit of toast, mate." Neville tried next.
"I think I'll just throw it all back up, Nev."
"Harry, you need to eat up. Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the opposing team. And since it's the Slytherins, you could be in for a rough game."
The poor Seeker looked as green as his opponents' house color. "…Thanks, Seamus."
"Leave him alone, Seamus. Harry's too small and quick for those guys. Dumbledore of flying, remember?" Ron unceremoniously dumped a couple of toasts on Harry's plate.
"R—Ron, I just said—!"
"Eat, Potter. I'm not losing that bet just because you're too hungry to mount your broom."
There was a scowling match between green and blue eyes before Harry finally bit in to his toast. Behind the black haired boy's back, Ron and Neville traded high fives.
Come eleven o'clock, Harry joined the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team to change, while Ron, Hermione and Neville went to the West Ham fan top row, the Potter for President banner in tow. But instead of it being the result of collaborating with just Seamus and Dean, Ron, with Hermione's help, managed to convince the girls to contribute. While they had been surprised, Hermione's dorm mates leapt at the opportunity to do something artistic in support of their Seeker.
Since Ron kept Pettigrew locked up throughout their stay in Hogwarts, the sheet they used for banner was flawless, almost looking brand new. And thanks to Lavender (who possessed the designer direction better than Dean's), the resulting lettering and drawings were better laid out, and between the two artists, they were even able to create golden leaf borders, two Gryffindor lions on either side of the banner, and even a large Snitch. Parvati (finally, Ron got her name right!) and the other girls even procured sequins that made the lions sparkle while Hermione did her trick so that the letters flashed different colors.
Neville had gaped in awe when the group stepped back to admire their work. "This looks amazing! Harry will definitely love this!"
"He bloody better." Ron joked while trying to scrub off the paint he got on his cheek. "It's been a nightmare making this from under his nose."
Nonetheless, it had been a piece of art, one that the Gryffindor first years proudly waved in the stands to the cheers of their house. Ron couldn't see Harry's reaction to it, but from what Ron could remember, he was sure his best mate was pleased.
"Blimey, tha' banner sure is something!"
A huge smile bloomed on Ron's face as Hermione and Neville waved. "Hagrid!"
The half-giant eyed their group fondly before saying, "Budge up a bit 'ere. Bin watchin' from me hut, but it's not the same as bein' in the crowd, yeah? No sign of the Snitch yet?"
"No." Ron answered, before pointing at his best friend who was doing some loops. "Harry's just there letting out some steam."
"Best he keep outta the way 'til he finds it. Them Slytherins will be on to him once he does."
Ron nodded with a blank face, even while everyone around—including Hermione—burst in to cheers when Angelina Johnson scored again. He ought to show some investment in the game (especially since his friends were under the impression that he had bet on Harry), but his stomach was too queasy with anticipation. While he knew Harry's broom could get jinxed any moment now, he couldn't remember exactly when.
So instead of staring that the field, he kept his eyes trained on the stand where Snape and Quirrel were, looking for any sign that the former had begun casting his jinx. But with how far they were, the eighteen-turned-eleven could hardly make out anything.
There was also the temptation to excuse himself to distract Snape by himself. But he hadn't mastered Hermione's bluebell flames spell yet and an Incendio will cause too much damage, especially with a wand as unstable as his current one.
Besides, this was Hermione's moment. Could he really take that from her?
"RED CARD!"
"Ouch, watch it!" Ron growled at Dean who had stomped at his foot before his mind caught up with what was said. "What even is a—?"
"Red card!" His fellow Gryffindor repeated, looking close to foaming in the mouth with rage. "In soccer, you get shown the red card and you're out of the game."
"Why are you even bringing up soccer—?"
"Didn' yeh see, Ron?" Hagrid was positively fuming next to him. "That Slytherin lug nearly knocked Harry off his broom! Crashed righ' into 'im, the big prude!"
Ron shifted his gaze back to the field, where he found Harry looking a bit shaken. His eyes couldn't have found a better time, because a few seconds later, after the black-haired boy ducked away from a Bludger, it happened.
The red head wizard's heart leapt to his throat when Harry suddenly stopped flying. "Hagrid, your binoculars!"
"Wha—?" Not giving the half giant time to clarify, Ron seized the apparatus and looked to see Harry jerking to and fro, holding on for dear life as the Nimbus Two Thousand appeared determined to shake him off.
It's time! He hesitated for a split second before shaking his head.
This was not his moment, nor will it ever be.
"Hermione, Neville, look!"
The two squinted in confusion at the direction Ron pointed.
"What's Harry doing?" Neville squinted in bewilderment. "Is he going higher up? The Snitch can't be—"
Ron shoved the binoculars into Neville's hands. "That's not him. Look. He's lost control of his broom!"
"He what?!" Hermione whispered sharply, taking the binoculars from Neville who had gone pale after seeing Harry through them. "But—but how?"
It was around this time that the crowd finally noticed that there was something wrong with Harry, who was steadily going higher and higher away, the broom jerking and budging as it went.
"What the hell's with Harry's broom?" Seamus asked out loud. "Did Flint break it somehow?"
"Can't have." Hagrid answered, looking utterly disturbed. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. No ordinary magic could break it like that—!"
"I knew it!" Hermione said breathlessly, her eyes flashing as she met Ron's and Neville's. "Snape! Look at him! He's doing something to the broom! I bet he's jinxing it!"
"Snape?" Neville's eyes went to the opposite stand where Snape was then back to Hermione and Ron. "We have to do something!"
Their bushy-haired friend's gaze hardened before bringing out her wand. "Leave that to me."
"It was Snape!"
Ron blinked languidly, rather sure that it used to be him who said that in the first timeline. Yet here he was, sipping his tea with a detached sort of calm while Neville and Hermione excitedly explained to Harry what happened.
After Hermione lit Snape's robes on fire again, everything ended the same way it had in the past, with Harry nearly swallowing the snitch and winning the game. The Gryffindors were ecstatic, and Ron suspected that a party is already underway back at the tower. But instead of joining their House mates, the four of them managed to slip away for some tea at Hagrid's, where Harry listened to them with rapt attention.
"We saw him, Harry!" Neville went on. "He was cursing your broomstick, wouldn't take his eyes off you. Hermione said he was casting some sort of jinx!"
"Rubbish!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Snape wouldn't do that!"
"I thought so too, but I know what I saw, Hagrid!" Hermione countered with as much zeal as Neville. "I've read all about jinxes. You're supposed to maintain eye contact for it to be effective. Snape hadn't been blinking when I saw him, and you all saw that Harry's broom stopped trying to throw him off after I distracted him!"
Harry frowned. "Must be because of what I saw last time. He knows we're on to him!"
Hagrid rubbed his head in confusion. "On to him 'bout what?"
When Harry told him about Snape's mangled leg and his suspicions, the gamekeeper dropped his teapot.
"How'd you know 'bout Fluffy?"
All the children except Ron chorused incredulously. "Fluffy?"
"He's mine. Bought him off a chappie from Greece. Lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" Hagrid then caught himself with a shake of his head. "Never you mind. Top secret, that one is."
Neville's brow furrowed. "But Snape's trying to steal, well, whatever it is!"
"'Course he's not! Snape's a Hogwarts teacher! He's not going to do that!"
"He tried to kill Harry!" Hermione said fretfully. "Why would he if he's really innocent?"
"…Maybe because he wasn't. Trying to kill Harry, I mean."
It was the first time Ron spoke since the whole exchange, making all eyes wheel to his direction.
Ron put down his teacup and cleared his throat. "You're right, Hermione, some jinxes do need to keep eye contact when they're being cast. But the same can be said for counter jinxes, especially for those jinxes that need said eye contact."
A shocked look crossed Hermione's features, obviously not having considered that possibility. "Counter jinxes, of course! Why hadn't I thought of that?"
Ron wasn't surprised, because it was so easy to think of Snape as the bad guy.
Harry's brows furrowed. "You can't be serious! You're telling me that Snape was actually trying to save me?"
Yes. "I'm just presenting another possibility, until we're completely sure that it really was a jinx Snape was casting."
Neville frowned. "But if it wasn't Snape, then who else could it be?"
"Anyone who's there and who can do it, really." Ron shrugged. "Honestly, I don't think being a Hogwarts teacher will stop anyone from doing something bad."
"Including Snape." Harry said stubbornly.
Ron exhaled loudly. "Fine, including Snape."
Hagrid stared at the children open mouthed before snapping it closed with a frown. "I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong! I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but it wasn't Snape or any of the teachers! An' yeh four listen to me—yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh so jus' let it go! Whatever's in that trapdoor is between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel—"
"Aha!" Harry exclaimed in excitement. "So there is someone else involved named Nicholas Flamel!"
Ron couldn't help but wince in sympathy at the way Hagrid looked beyond furious with himself. Sorry, Hagrid, but Harry's got to find out about Flamel from somebody.
Dear Ginny,
Sorry it's been a while since my last letter. I know I promised to write as often as I can, but there's just so much to see and do here at Hogwarts! I know it's not an excuse to neglect my little spitfire, though, so I hope the Bertie Bott's beans I sent with this letter is a good enough peace offering.
Most of the classes are amazing as usual. All the Professors are really working us hard, especially Professor McGonagall, who's also our Head of House. She can be like Aunt Muriel, strict and a bit scary, but way nicer. Everyone will tell you that she is fair with all the students, but between you and me, I think the way she piles so much homework on the Gryffindors is her way of showing how much she favors us. We just don't know how to appreciate it yet.
By the way, I didn't write you this the last time because it was supposed to be a secret, but guess who's the Gryffindor Quidditch team's new seeker? It's Harry Potter! At first year! They said it hasn't happened in a century! You should see him fly, Gin! I swear, he's the Albus Dumbledore of flying! You won't believe he hasn't had a broom his whole life! And even better news? We won our first game against Slytherin! And Harry caught the Snitch! The other team made a big deal about Harry nearly swallowing it so it doesn't count. But a catch is a catch. Besides, we were way ahead in points thanks to our Chasers. Can't wait to see you as one of them someday. You'll leave the other team eating the dust!
Mum mentioned that she's been sending you to the Fawcetts since the Lovegoods are out. Don't remember much about them, but don't they have a girl around yours and Luna's age? Hope that means you're not being too lonely. Oh, and I don't know if Mum and Dad mentioned this to you, but last Halloween, a troll got into the school! But don't worry, it was taken care of pretty quickly, and no one got seriously hurt. Other than that and the Quidditch game, nothing else exciting's happened. That doesn't mean that Hogwarts is a boring place! Trust me, Gin, you'll love it here!
Percy, Fred and George are fine, as always. The twins still causing trouble with their pranks and Perce not being able to do much about them. Doesn't matter how much the old caretaker, Filch, confiscates. It's like they have a bottomless bag of their prank stuff!
And I guess that's all for now. Will let you know if there's any other interesting stuff going on around here.
Love,
Ron
PS: Dad mentioned that you three will be spending the holidays in Romania with Charlie. Try not to get too attached to those dragons, OK? One dragon tamer in the family's enough, at least according to Mum.
But if you ask me, I think dragons are pretty cool, especially if I can get to ride them. What do you think?
"...By the way, Ron, what happened to the bet? Since Harry won, you must have made quite a bit!"
Ron looked up from his parchment to Neville in confusion. "Huh? What bet? I didn't bet on anything."
He then nearly dropped his quill when he saw Harry look up from his homework to shoot Ron the green eyes of fiery doom. It was enough to refresh Ron's memory far too late. Oh bugger.
"H—Hey, Harry, mate, can't we talk about this—?"
"You have a five seconds headstart, Weasley."
"Can I take that as a 'maybe'?"
"Three."
"...Shite!"
At least Neville had the decency to look apologetic when Harry chased Ron all the way out into the Great Lake.
It didn't occur to me at the time, but the troll incident not being a bigger deal than it was in the books bothered me somewhat. Good thing no one was hurt, but the fact that the troll managed to get in is a huge security breach, one that someone like Lucius Malfoy could have taken advantage of in ousting Dumbledore (or at least in taking points off the Headmaster's credibility). But seeing as there was no further mention of the incident's impact—at least, none Harry was able to tell—safe to say that it was wrapped up before word got out of the troll or the Golden Trio's involvement.
Which I found very highly unlikely given how humans can be onto gossip like a bloodhound on a scent.
Another shameless plug before you leave: I have a new fanfic posted in AO3—a Ron and Regulus Black centric one—so if you're interested, please give Pendragon: House of Pendragon a try.
UP NEXT:
While Harry and the others are busy digging out information about Mr. Flamel, Ron finally does something about a certain rat. Will his plan go off without a hitch? Ron sure hopes so!
