Ron Weasley slumped into a chair in the Gryffindor common room. His world famous and former best friend had just stormed up the spiral staircase to bed. Ron tenderly poked at his forehead. The SPEW badge Harry had pitched at him had left a small cut. Not really a cut even, more like a paper cut. It wouldn't scar, but it stung more than something so small ought to.

"There's no use sitting here feeling sorry for myself," Ron murmured even as he sunk deeper into the cushions. "Really, I just said that because I'm sure Harry would. He's not the brooding type. Does everything about me have to be about wanting to be him? And now I'm talking to myself like I'm nutters. Brilliant."

With great effort Ron heaved himself out of the chair, out of the common room and down the marble steps, leaving Gryffindor Tower and Harry Potter sleeping.

By himself Ron was a shadow, easily escaping the confines of Hogwarts without anyone noticing him. After all, when did anyone notice him? Bitterness sat like a semisweet chocolate on his tongue. He stalked the grounds like a ghost, grass frosted between his toes. Irritated and restless, he squinted up at the stars and found himself insignificant under the enormity of the night sky. His breath occasionally clouded his view. It was far too brisk to be outside in pajamas. Some silly dampness was gelling along his eyelashes.

"I wish I could be as great and important as Harry Potter," he told the stars, folding his hands into his armpits to keep them warm.

"Ron? What're yeh doin' out here? You'll catch yer death."

Ron nearly jumped out of his skin as a large hand rested on his shoulder. Hagrid, with Fang at his side.
"Yeh been crying?"

Indignant, Ron rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. "No! It's only the wind ..."

Hagrid nodded knowingly and smiled. "Come on back to the cabin, I'll make some tea."

Ron's brain started to fuzzy up with exhaustion once he was inside Hagrid's cabin. He dozed off before even sipping a drop of tea. When he woke up it was morning and he was back in Gryffindor Tower. Something was a bit off, though. He tugged open the velvet hangings and found that he was in the wrong bed. "Ha, Hagrid. Thanks."

Ron shifted to get out of bed and found that his pajamas were ... different. They fit. It was a strange sensation. "What on earth," Ron muttered as he wrestled out of his covers. At that moment Colin Creevey hurried over to him. "Good luck with the Tournament today, Ron!"

"Er . . . ok," Ron blinked. "Shouldn't you be talking to Harry about this?"

Colin stared at him. "Harry? Who?"

Ron nearly fell back into bed out of shock.

"Anyway, I have to get to breakfast. I'll see you later, Ron!" And with that Colin was gone, leaving Ron dumbfounded and alone.

Ron dressed so inattentively he wasn't sure it was his own uniform he was wearing. He hurried down the stairs, avid to tell someone about Colin's clueless behaviour. He wasn't talking to Harry of course, but Fred or George might get a laugh out of it. A few Gryffindors he didn't know very well patted him cheerfully on the shoulder, but there was no sign of his brothers or sister anywhere, including the Gryffindor table. Seeing as Hermione was lacking Harry, Ron easily took a seat next to her.

"Hermione, you'll never guess what just happened," he smiled as he reached for some toast.

Hermione looked up from her porridge, frowning at him guardedly. "What," she whispered.

Ron's face scrunched up in suspicion. "What's wrong, Hermione? Aren't you my friend, too?"

"Have I ever been?" she replied, a shadow of the girl he'd known. Her face was fragile and pale, almost lost in her mass of stubborn hair. This wasn't his courageous friend. This was the girl who'd been sobbing in the girl's toilet first year.

"Ok. Fine. Just tell me if you've seen my brothers and Ginny?"

Hermione shrugged and stared at her porridge as if it were fascinating to her. "I didn't know you had any living family, sorry."

"Right. I don't know how Harry convinced the whole house to treat me like a freak today but I've had enough of this. Where is he?"

"Harry . . . Potter?" she questioned, an odd expression on her face.

"Yeah Hermione. Harry Potter."

Hermione's small index finger pointed towards the Slytherin table. There, talking intensely to Draco Malfoy, was Harry.