Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor

Chapter Two : Diagon Alley, The Hogwart's Express, and the Sorting

Common sense is the collection of prejudices
acquired by age eighteen.
 -- Albert Einstein

Ron had to fight an uphill battle to convince his mother to let them all go to Diagon Alley without her or Arthur accompanying them. She had already ordered most of their books for delivery, and was only consenting because of the urgent need for new robes.

Harry needed them the most, of course. He was finally starting to see a growth spurt, although no one expected that it would land him within distance of Ron. His new height was making him look even more painfully thin, after his battles with grief and illness had stolen his appetite.

Hermione and Ginny also needed new robes desperately, but not because of their height. They'd been growing in other dimensions, and if Ron was happy to see it in Hermione's case, it still embarrassed him to hear her freely admit how tight her current robes were in talking to his mother. He was not overjoyed at all to hear Ginny talk about the same problem. They had started to voice some of the other needs that they would have at Madam Malkin's, but Ron managed to block them out entirely.

Ron's needs were less obvious, unless he wiggled his toes. For the last year, he'd been making do with an old pair of Charlie's boots, with an engorgement charm to make room. His feet were bigger than any of his brothers, and he'd felt far too guilty to make an issue of it, until the charm failed at the beginning of summer. His feet had been cramped and pained, and Molly reluctantly agreed that he needed to go in person to find a pair that would fit well enough.

The arguments were clear that they needed to go in person, but they were less so on the idea of going without Molly. Ron didn't care to have his mother there helping him pick out shoes. He knew that she wouldn't be making a big deal about going if it weren't for the fear that had gripped her over the previous year. She was normally pretty good about letting them be on their own around Diagon Alley.

In the end, she was convinced on economic grounds, more than anything else. There was so little Floo Powder left that she wasn't sure it would take all of them as it was. Fred and George were staying at the Burrow now, and she didn't want to leave them alone, but there was certainly not enough powder for the three of them to join Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny on their shopping trip. Ron suspected that Fred and George had planned it that way; at least, they took the news well, and he saw one of them wink at Harry.

Ron promised to pick up more powder while they were out, and Ginny swore that they'd all stay together, and that they wouldn't dawdle. Ron fully intended to keep his promise, but he didn't trust Ginny's intentions. She had a knowing smile on her face, and a twinkle in her eye that betrayed some mysterious intention.

Diagon Alley had changed from two years before. There was hardly anyone in the Leaky Caldron, and few people outside the shops. The people that were there were scurrying like insects before the light, almost running from shop to shop. No one seemed to be alone, and Ron didn't see anyone who looked like a Hogwarts first year. He wondered if this was how things had been during Voldemort's first reign of terror, before he'd crossed Harry's path the first time around.

Ginny almost immediately proposed that she take care of some small errands before meeting them at Madame Malkin's. Ron shook his head. "No way, Ginny. I'm not going to tell Mother that my dear ickle sister got herself all blown up because we didn't stay together."

Ginny had a set expression on her face. "Are you telling me that you don't think I can take care of myself?"

Ron wasn't particularly interested in being hexed into the middle of next week in the middle of Diagon Alley, especially by his ickle sister.

"How about I go with her?" Harry interjected. Ron looked at him in gratitude. He couldn't see Ginny refusing that.

Ron was right. Ginny looked grateful. "Sure, Harry, that would be great. I don't think Mother could argue with that, do you?"

Ron was unsure, but Hermione grabbed his arm, and spoke her piece. "I'm sure that will be alright. Just don't be long."

Ron knew he was outvoted. "Alright," he said, trying to portray confidence. "We'll see you both at Madame Malkin's."

Hermione was talking even more than usual, but Ron was mostly silent. "So," she went on, "it's great that we'll finally have our OWLs behind us, and be able to start on our NEWTs."

Ron groaned, but she didn't seem to notice. She just kept talking. "There's so much to do, of course, and I still need to figure out where I'm going after Hogwarts."

That was something Ron still couldn't believe -- he had more solid plans than Hermione did. His OWLs had actually been good enough for him to try for Auror, if only just barely. She had turned up her nose at the idea, even without any other plans.

She didn't seem really bothered by the fact, though, and she was still talking on breathlessly. "I hope we can catch up in Defense this year. We really improved during practice, but there's still tons to learn."

Ron was nodding, but he froze. "Look," he grunted.

Hermione didn't see what he was alarmed by, and started looking around frantically, before her eyes settled on Marcus Flint and Draco Malfoy, who were leaving Quality Quidditch Supplies together, with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind. Marcus was playing Beater for the Doncaster Dragons, an enthusiastic second-rate team that made the Chudley Cannons look good.

Draco's eyes lit up when he saw the two Gryffindors, and he was visibly searching for more. He had changed over the summer - he hadn't cut his hair, and it now flowed freely down to his shoulders. His face had changed, as well, and he looked much more like his father. "Mudblood, Weasley, what a surprise? I almost didn't recognize you without the scarhead."

Flint smiled, looking intimidating. "Weasley, I wanted to thank you. You made me a lot of money last year, too bad you couldn't keep up your losing streak."

Ron ignored the former Hogwarts student, focusing on Malfoy. "I thought you were someone else for a minute. You look a lot like a wanted parchment I saw the other day."

"Looking for reward money Weasley? You might get enough to afford a new robe."

"No, I just realized it had been a while since I'd seen a Malfoy, and figured I'd look for your family portraits."

"It's good to be missed, Weasley. I'm surprised you're even acquainted with the idea, since with all the Weasleys running around home, no one could have ever missed you."

"What a coincidence! Even though you're the only Malfoy, I'm sure no one would ever miss you, either."

"Weasley, I'm surprised. I wouldn't have thought you'd have the courage to even talk to me without a dozen others behind you. Where's Potty?"

"He's off beating your boss, be back in a few minutes. I've got plenty enough courage for the likes of you."

Flint didn't seem to like being ignored. He had a bat in his hand, which he was idly swinging back and forth. As Ron's insults flowed, he edged closer to the Weasley boy, and carelessly swung the bat at the back of Ron's leg. Ron jumped out of the way.

"Really, this has gone far enough," snapped Hermione, stomping her foot. "I believe we'll be going."

Marcus stepped even closer to Ron, breathing straight down at him. "I don't think we should let you. We haven't really been able to play with you, yet."

The almost empty streets didn't reveal anyone interested in Ron and Hermione's situation, and Crabbe and Goyle were moving to cut off retreat. Ron couldn't believe that Flint would take the risk of assaulting him on a public street, but he wasn't sure he could stop him, either. Harry was the hero; he was the one who was supposed to be in showdowns with villains, not him. Harry wasn't here, though.

There was absolute silence. Ron's hand was flexing, ready to go for his wand, but no one had taken the first step, yet. Flint looked like he was only waiting for someone else to make the first move, but Draco looked less sure.

The door opened again behind Flint just as the graduate started to swing his bat, and a swift hand grabbed it, yanking it out of his hand. "Not too smart, eh there Flint?" Oliver Wood said laughingly from behind him. "You miss picking on Gryffindor's enough that you had to do it in front of a publicity event?"

Behind Oliver, Ron saw a number of familiar faces peering through the open door, including more than a few Quidditch players. None of them were top stars, but they were all recognizable to Ron.

Oliver looked at him and Hermione. "Well, go on then. No need to keep standing there gawking." Crabbe moved out of the way, and Hermione pulled Ron through the gap. Malfoy called after him. "Go ahead, run, Weasley. You can't always have someone else there to pull you out of trouble."

Ron tried to pull away from Hermione, to teach the insufferable Slytherin a lesson, but she wouldn't let him go. "Ron," she whispered through gritted teeth, "we don't have time to play with Malfoy."

Ron let himself be dragged away. Malfoy's sneer was still on his mind, though. Couldn't Ron even defend his friend against a threat without Harry around? Malfoy obviously didn't think so, and neither did Oliver. It was obvious that Hermione didn't have any faith in him, or she probably wouldn't have pulled him away. He wasn't so sure himself.

Ron managed to stop by the shoe store on the way to the dress robe shop, and was delighted to have Hermione's advice on what looked good. He couldn't get the best, of course, but he didn't think most people could tell the difference, anyway. If Hermione thought that the pair of faux dragon-hide riding boots he'd gotten were sufficient, that was all that really mattered. He couldn't understand the giggle of the sales girl or her looks at Hermione, though. Why did it matter that he had really big feet? Some people were amused by the strangest things. Her advice helped him to forget his run in with Malfoy, though, and he hoped he was overreacting to her lack of faith in him.

He didn't reciprocate with the help at Madame Malkin's. He was happy to issue one-word opinions on the colors that Hermione looked at, but he was sure that most of them would look smashing on her, not that he'd say it in as many words. She didn't seem too put out by his inability to express an opinion, looking more amused than anything by his stammering. When it came to styles, he couldn't even talk about them. He felt that anything he would say would come uncomfortably close to commenting on the reasons that she needed new robes, and that was a line he wasn't coming anywhere near.

Hermione was almost finished at Madame Malkin's by the time Harry and Ginny showed up, both carrying bags. Ginny looked white-faced, and Ron jumped up in alarm. Harry held out his hand to stop him, though. "Don't worry, mate. It's just the side-effect of a trip on a Goblin cart."

Ginny nodded. "We didn't want to split up, and Harry had to go down to his vault. I came with him -- it was worse than falling off a broom."

Ron was relieved, but still irritated. "You took Ginny down to your parents' vault? Is that really appropriate?"

Harry shrugged. "Needed to be done. What are you worried about, anyway?"

Ron shook his head. "Nothing, I guess."

Hermione came out of the back room with a pile of boxes, some of which were very, very, small. Ron tried not to think about what they could be for. His discomfort distracted him from his inquisition of his friend long enough for Harry to slip in and start getting measured.

When he came back out, Hermione was telling them about their encounter with the Malfoy. She sounded almost proud of him, which amazed him. He had been sure that he'd totally unimpressed her earlier. Ron wondered briefly why he cared so much what she thought, but he didn't linger on the thought. He wasn't much given to self-analysis. He still wished he had been able to pop the Slytherin one, though.

After spending far too much money at Madame Malkin's, the group finally made their way back to the Burrow by floo powder. Ron kept an eye out for Malfoy, but didn't see him or his goons. He was almost sorry about that, since it meant that he didn't have a chance to redeem himself in his own eyes.

~.~.~

The trip to Platform 9 3/4 was no more leisurely than usual. Harry and Ron had spent the last two weeks breathlessly working through their Potions assignments. Professor Snape probably felt personally offended that all three of his least favorite Gryffindor troublemakers were going to be in his NEWT potions classes, but Albus Dumbledore himself had personally approved their admission.

They had arrived at the station courtesy of a pair of Ministry cars, which took them from the doorway of Diagon Alley. With Voldemort back, the Ministry had started caring about Harry's welfare again. The cars had arrived much later than expected, however, and Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron had all been forced to run through the station, pushing carts laden with trunks and animal cages. Despite the rush, they made it inside by a comfortable margin. At least, they made it inside before Neville, which was close enough. Ginny and Harry ducked into the first compartment they found, but Ron and Hermione just dropped their trunks off, waving hello and goodbye to the other occupant, Luna Lovegood.

"We have to go forward again, Harry, but we'll try to come back once our meetings are done. Will you be alright?" Hermione sounded over concerned, at least in Ron's opinion.

Harry looked amused. "We'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen on the train, after all."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Luna's voice echoed through the compartment. "I've heard that at least one in ten hinkypink abductions occur on board trains."

Ron converted his laugh into a cough, and grabbing Hermione by the hand, pulled her away before she could get involved in the discussion.

"Hinkypinks! Honestly," Hermione snorted, "I know she helped out Harry last year, but sometimes I can't bear the woman."

"I know what you mean," Ron nodded, an exaggerated expression of innocence on his face. "It's hard to be around someone who thinks she knows more than you."

"Ron!" She punched him in the arm.

"What?" He looked injured. It wasn't his fault if she walked right into the occasional straight line.

"What's the matter, Weasley, can't defend yourself from your own girlfriend?" He heard Malfoy's sneer in his voice before he saw it on his face.

"Mind your own business, Malfoy," Ron responded wearily. His feelings of inadequacy came back in full force.

"Ow, that hurt, Weasley. Has anyone ever told you that you have a sharp wit? I thought not."

"Coming from someone who has most of his conversations with a pair of gorillas, that hurts, Malfoy. So, your father visit lately? I heard he dressed up like a Dementor to escape. I can't believe they didn't see he was too ugly to be a Dementor."

Hermione broke in. "Honestly! We need to get to the meeting."

"Mind your own business Mu -- mrph," Draco's voice cut off in mid-smear, as Hermione's casual wand waving took effect. His mouth had disappeared, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing through his nose. It was probably stuck too high up in the air to breathe effectively.

Ron and Hermione pivoted and walked proudly into the meeting.

~.~.~

Ron's expression when he returned to the compartment to meet with the others was no longer one of amusement. Hermione looked slightly worried behind him, and a little guilty.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't want to talk about it." Ron gritted his teeth. They'd all find out eventually, but he didn't want to be the one to say it. They probably wouldn't hear everything, anyway.

There was silence for a few moments, and then Ginny asked. "So, have you heard who the new fifth-year prefects are? I mean, I obviously didn't make it in." Her smile didn't hint at how she felt about that. Ron knew he'd been almost disappointed when he'd been made prefect, but then, he was following in Percy's footsteps, which would have disappointed anyone. Following after Ron probably wouldn't have been such a bad thing -- at least, he didn't think so.

Hermione spoke up. "You'll never believe it. Colin Creevey and Auburn Albacore".

"You're kidding," Harry said, deadpan. "How can Colin be a prefect?"

"I think maybe Dumbledore felt sorry for him -- spending half his first year petrified and all." Ron interjected.

Ginny dropped her teacup, and Hermione kicked Ron. "I'm sorry Ginny, I didn't mean to talk about that."

"It's all right," Ginny said, eyes downcast, as she picked up her cup. Harry reached across to her, and put his hand on hers. Ron was amazed -- she didn't leap up into the air, or even blush. He wondered just how comfortable she'd become with Harry this summer.

Luna spoke into the silence. "Have any of you heard anything about who we'll have for Dark Arts this year?"

Harry looked up, snorting, and pulled his hand away from Ginny's. "Yeah, do you think this year we can avoid having someone who knows Voldemort personally?"

Everyone flinched at the mention of the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. "Sorry," Harry said apologetically.

"That's alright," Hermione responded. She made sure the door was firmly closed behind her. "We've already met the new Dark Arts teacher. That's what we didn't want to talk about."

"What happened?" Ginny looked concerned.

"Well, it started with Malfoy," Hermione started.

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry interrupted.

"Do you want to hear this or not, mate?" Ron snapped back at him. "Go ahead, Hermione, you might as well tell them."

She started over. "We'd just left Malfoy. I used a new curse on him, something I'd found in Anderson's Curses for the Weary, to shut him up. We went into the Prefect's meeting, and..." she hesitated.

"And the Dark Arts teacher was there." Ron finished. "She's a holy terror, she is. Called us out for using a curse on another student, especially with some foreign bloke on the train, told us we'd lose our badges if it happened again. I told her she could have mine, if she wanted it, for all the good it seemed to do. She gave me a month's detention."

"No!" Harry answered. "How about Hermione?"

Ron shrugged. "She seemed to have the impression that I'd cast the spell."

"Because he told her that he had," Hermione broke in. She sounded grateful to him, and Ron felt his heart melting.

"Who did you say was on the train?" Luna asked.

"The Dark Arts teacher?" Ron said. "Weren't you listening?"

"I heard that," Luna sounded unperturbed. "You said something about a foreign bloke. What did you mean?"

Hermione answered, which saved Ron from admitting that he'd forgotten about their guest from Bulgaria. "Oh, Professor Kwikspell said that there was someone from another country who was taking a tour of England, some kind of goodwill tour to build cooperation. She didn't say his name, though."

"The new Professor's name is Kwikspell?" Harry asked. "Like in the courses for Squibs?"

"Just like that," Ron confirmed. "She's probably some kind of relation."

Harry looked up at Hermione, as if expecting her to say more. Ron couldn't blame him, she usually did end up correcting him, but he still felt a little irked. Couldn't his friend just trust him?

Hermione didn't contradict him this time, and he was grateful. Instead, she just reminded everyone of the time. "Shouldn't we all be getting into our Hogwart's robes?"

Harry nodded, and the boys walked out to the hall to guard while the women changed inside. Ron decided that now was a good time to broach something he'd been waiting to ask Harry.

"Harry, what you said about fighting You Know Who."

"Voldemort," Harry snapped back.

"Yes, you know, him. What did you mean, exactly?"

"I'm going to kill him," Harry responded.

"Probably," Ron acknowledged. "I mean, I don't think it'll be Neville. Do you have some sort of plan in mind?"

"If I did, I don't think I'd talk about it in the corridor of the Hogwarts Express."

"Fair enough," Ron nodded. He had been worried that Harry already had something in mind, but it didn't sound that way. If he could keep him from trying to save the world single-handedly, they'd probably all live a lot longer.

The girls took much longer than Ron thought they should have, and he kept hearing giggling from inside the compartment, but he and Harry just spent the time talking Quidditch. Harry still favored Puddlemere, Ron still worshipped the Cannons. Talking about them made it hard to remember that a moment ago they had been talking about defeating the Dark Wizard that had terrified a nation.

~.~.~

The Sorting Hat's song made as little sense as ever. Ron just tuned it out. If he wanted to know if there was anything special in it, he would just ask Hermione later.

The students waiting to be sorted looked like every crowd had so far, except younger. The further Ron got from being eleven, the less he could believe that he had risked his life at that age to deny You Know Who his immortality.

He looked at their faces. Some held fear, some bravery. One looked familiar, though. The young boy was looking straight at Dumbledore, his face drawn, lips set. Looking at him gave Ron an uneasy feeling, as if he'd seen the boy before. Ron nudged Hermione, and whispered a question to her, but she didn't recognize him.

Names were being called now. The students seemed to be running almost even between the houses, although Ravenclaw was falling behind slightly. Ron cheered for each Gryffindor, but he was preoccupied. He knew that there was some reason that the boy's face bothered him.

Finally, his name was called, and Ron knew why he looked familiar.

"Lester Lestrange," the name rang out, and the boy tried on the Hat.

The Hat shouted - "HUFFLEPUFF!" - and he returned to his seat. Ron stole a look at Harry, and saw that the Boy Who Lived hadn't missed the name. Harry's hands were clenched, white with the effort, and his face betrayed something like hatred. Small wonder - if anyone outside You Know Who could be said to be responsible for his Godfather's death, it was the Lestranges.

Ron wondered what he was going to have to do to keep Harry out of trouble this year, if he was already looking ready to take on an eleven-year-old kid just for his relatives. He certainly wasn't going to remind Harry about his own, since as a pureblood wizard, there wasn't a dark wizard around that wasn't one of them.

Ron also wondered, not for the first time, if he was partly responsible for Harry's prejudices. He had been the one to point out Slytherin's association with dark wizards, back in their first year, and he had certainly turned up his nose at enough people from families that were associated with Voldemort. There were certainly enough times when those prejudices had been proven true. There were also people who had proven them false, however, including a number of people in the Order. Harry hadn't come to that realization yet, at least from the way he was looking at the first-year with a Death Eater's last name.