Chapter Five : History of The Founders
Ron's habit of reading his Quidditch book during the History of Magic had produced an unexpected side effect; he was no longer accustomed to falling asleep during class. He even occasionally took notes, although they generally shared the scroll with Quidditch play diagrams, Christmas lists, and ideas for how to make things up to Hermione.
While students in their sixth year could opt not to take History of Magic, Ron had ended up agreeing to take it anyway. Ron had decided that he could imagine no greater future than being an Auror, assuming he couldn't become a professional Quidditch player. That, in turn, required that he continue taking most of the classes he was already in.
At least, they were finally up to a time period that he found interesting. They were talking about the eighteen-hundreds, when the Dark Wizard Kartoffel had almost single-handedly wiped out Ireland. Somehow, the discussions of Kartoffel's misdeeds brought home the fact that today's war was one of many. While Ron had often heard stories of the First Voldemort War, which had ended near his birth, he had never identified with all of the previous wars. The First Voldemort War somehow seemed too recent to be real, and as he knew only survivors, the vast number of people who had died weren't completely real to him. Somehow, the pictures of the distant past were more impressive, all the more so as he had never heard of Kartoffel before class started. Would he be forgotten, years from now, when Voldemort was relegated to another History of Magic teacher? Would even Binns remember him?
When class ended, Ron stood abruptly, and left, not even bothering to wake Harry. He noticed that Hermione was staring at him, but he didn't stop to ask why. If he asked Hermione why she was looking at him funny every time she did it, he'd probably drive her mad.
He walked down to the Quidditch Patch. It wasn't officially open for practice right now, since it was dinnertime. Ron figured he could just slip down to the kitchen for dinner later - right now, he needed to blow of some steam. Ron opened up his book, and started looking for some promising exercises. His eyes lighted on the ones for Beaters, which seemed promising. At least, they looked like he'd end up either working out his anger or being shipped off to the hospital ward.
He got the practice Bludgers out of their hiding spot, and pulled out one of the Beater Bats. The exercise seemed to be a combination of martial arts and wandless magic training, using his power to guide the Bat to block the incoming obstacle faster than his reflexes would normally allow.
After the first few minutes, Ron wondered if he should have heeded the book's warning, and had someone else there to carry him off. The exercises were doing very little to actually block the Bludger, and although it was only at practice strength, it had succeeded in scoring quite a few hits on him. He kept trying, though, determined that if he couldn't defeat Voldemort, he could at least defeat a little mindless ball.
After the next few minutes, he was about ready to concede to the little mindless ball. "Bloody beast, OW, will you just, OW, stay still, OW!" The Bludger knocked him to the ground, and seemed to be turning around to finish him off, when a tiny gloved hand reached out and caught it, holding it still.
Ron looked up from the ground, and saw that the hand belonged to the new Medical Studies teacher, Professor Ding. Ginny had signed up for Professor Ding's classes, and she'd said that the small Oriental woman was one of her favorite teachers yet, second only to Lupin. Ron hadn't had time for another elective, though, and this was the first time he'd seen her up close. She looked young for a Professor, probably in her early thirties. Her hair was short and black, with small tinges of white throughout. She was shorter than Harry, and of slight build. She had a slight accent, very faint.
She was still holding the Bludger with one hand as all this went through Ron's head, and she carefully extended her other hand downwards. "Mister Weasley, would you like some help?"
Ron accepted the hand gratefully, and stood. He was amazed at how calm her face was, the ball still in her hand. "Thanks, Professor. Do you mind if I ask how you're doing that?"
She responded placidly, without any sign of sarcasm, "How would you expect me to be doing this?"
He bit back a nasty retort, realizing that he didn't need to irritate any more Professors right now, nor did he have any more time for detentions. He tried to control his voice, "Beats me, Professor."
"My arm is obeys my head, and, despite its wish to do otherwise, the Beater obeys my arm. It is not so different from what you are learning." Ding gestured at the open book beside him.
"Professor, I'm not really learning anything," he said, and he realized, belatedly, that he wasn't supposed to be reading the book at all.
"Nonsense," the woman said. "If nothing else, you are learning the price of failure."
"That one, I already knew," he answered back ruefully.
"Well, then, you're already off to a good start," she countered. "Show me what you are trying to accomplish."
Ron obediently stood up and started to weave his bat.
She looked at him critically, still holding the Bludger. "You have the footwork well at hand, but you are following the pattern too intently. This is not a dance, Mister Weasley."
"Then what should I be doing?" he snapped back.
She didn't seem perturbed by his venom. "Here, let's try something different." She removed her belt with one hand, tossing it to him. It was a silky green sash.
Ron looked at in disbelief. "What do you want me to do with this?"
"Tie it over your eyes."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. You'd best hurry. Your detention with Professor Kwikspell begins soon, and I doubt that you would like to explain what you were doing."
Ron had forgotten about his detention entirely. He was surprised that she knew about it. Thinking about it, he was surprised that she had even known who he was. They'd never met before, and she hadn't had years of Weasleys ahead of him to prepare her. He decided to have a little faith in her, since she had probably been talking to Albus, and he tied her belt over his eyes.
She commanded, "Now, stop trying to follow the pattern, and stop the Bludger."
He moved the bat, and the Bludger hit him in the nose. "OW!"
"Keep trying," she commanded, and he started moving the bat again. He felt it connect with a loud crack. A few minutes later, she let him remove the blindfold. He had hit the Bludger ten times, and it had only gotten him five.
"Now, return this to where it belongs," she said, giving him the Bludger back, as he passed the belt back to her. "And don't forget about your detention." She started to walk off.
Ron nodded, and closed his book, putting it in his bag. He called towards her back, "Dank you, Professor." His nose really hurt.
She turned. "It was my pleasure, Mister Weasley."
He had a few questions for her, but he was afraid that most of them would sound like challenges. So he asked the most innocuous one he could. "Where did you learn how to deach like dat?"
She smiled, "I saw it in a movie once." Her smile grew larger at Ron's look of disbelief. "It could have been worse. I could have made you paint a fence. Have a good evening." She turned, and walked away. This time, he let her go. He ran by Madam Pomfrey's on the way to detention, and was almost late because of it, but his nose was much better for the attention.
Ron went out to the Quidditch pitch again the next day before dinner. Not seeing anyone, he decided to try practicing with the Bludger again, although he figured he might try with his eyes open. This time, he seemed to be doing a little better. He was hitting it three times for every time it hit him, and he usually managed to have it get him in the arm, rather than the face.
It flew behind him, and he half turned, waiting to hit it as it came back, but he was surprised to see Ding there, holding the Bludger in one hand. "Where did you come from, Professor?"
"Originally, China. Sichuan province."
"That's not quite what I meant," he said, but he didn't have any venom in it. It was hard to get angry at someone so good at sounding inscrutable, at least when he was managing to control the Bludger.
"It's part of what my father would have called the Way, it covers everything from fighting to sneaking up behind students." Ron looked blank, and she continued.
"What you're learning now, what you're trying to do, you're trying to find the Way by following one pattern. It's like trying to learn to dance by learning the notes to one song."
"If this is anything like dancing, I might as well give up now."
She didn't answer him, and he didn't give up. It became a ritual for him to go down to the Pitch right before dinner. Professor Ding didn't come down every day, but she did come down occasionally, usually just when Ron was starting to get stuck.
Before Ron knew it, his detentions were over, and he could start team Quidditch practices in earnest. Their first game of the season was against Ravenclaw, and Ron knew that if they couldn't defeat them decisively, they wouldn't have a chance against Slytherin later.
Ron wasn't quite the slave driver that Oliver had been, but that was mainly because he lacked the time. Even when his detentions with Professor Kwikspell were over, he still had the coursework of a prospective Auror to deal with. And then there was keeping up with Harry.
The Hogwarts Three had definitely become the Hogwarts Four. Ginny was spending more time with Harry than Ron was, and Ron wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew he couldn't afford to get in a fight with Harry again right now, though. When he saw them standing too close, he just gritted his teeth, and tried to find a way to divert Harry's attention. This was proving to be very time consuming, but he knew it was worth it - he couldn't very well just strangle him, after all. Although there were times he was severely tempted.
One night in October, Ron was entering the common room from his dormitory looking for Harry, and he noticed that one of the couches had its back turned towards him, with strange sucking noises coming from it. He walked up to it carefully, and looking over the edge, saw that Harry and Ginny were joined at the lips. He tried not to notice that their hands were on their way to some compromising places.
"Harry!" Ron shouted. Both of the teens jumped. Ron was relieved that Harry looked more guilty than angry. The same couldn't be said of his sister, however. She looked at him with murder in her eyes.
"Ron, mind your own business," Ginny snapped at him, and she tried to pull Harry back down to the couch.
"This is my business," he said coldly. "I'm happy that you and Harry are such good...friends. But you can't act like this in the middle of the common room. What would Mum say?"
"Beautiful, Ron, that was a perfect impression of Percy. I'm sure you'll be a Big Head Boy like him in no time," she retorted. Ginny was spitting mad. Ron was offended by her comparison, but right now he was more afraid of the Bat Bogeys he saw in his future.
Harry, strangely enough, acted as the voice of reason. "You're right, Ron. We went too far."
Ron was relieved that Harry didn't seem angry with him, but Ginny looked like she might cry at his words. Harry turned so that Ron couldn't see his face, looking straight at her. Whatever she saw in his face, her smile soon came back. She grinned at Ron evilly. "You're so right, Perfect Prefect that you are. You won't catch us here again. Good night, Ron. See you later, Harry."
She through her head back, tossing her hair, and walked swiftly up the stairs. Harry was staring at her as she went, smiling. He called after her, "Good Night!"
Ron wasn't sure what he had missed, but his stomach did a flip-flop, his relief quickly vanishing. Whatever they were up to, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was just glad that he'd managed to confront them without losing his friendship with Harry.
At breakfast the next morning, Ginny was still smirking, and so was Harry. They spent the whole meal looking in each other's eyes. Ron was spending it looking at both of them. He was convinced that they were plotting something.
He took more than half the meal to notice the eyes that were focused on him. He turned to Hermione, who was across the table from him. "What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she said, blushing scarlet. "Nothing at all. I just wondered why you hadn't said anything this morning."
Ron shrugged. "Nothing important," he said. "How are you doing?"
She looked down. "I've been better."
He reached his hand across the table towards her. "What's wrong?"
Hermione shook her head, "It's nothing. At least, nothing important."
Harry and Ginny both got up from the table, waving goodbye. Harry didn't have class this early, Ron knew, but Ginny did. Ron decided that Harry could probably walk her towards class safely, since there were more than enough other Prefects and Professors to stop any wayward snogging in the halls.
Ron reached his hand across the table for Hermione's. She took it in hand gratefully. "If it's enough to bring you down, it's important. What's wrong?"
She smiled, and Ron felt his heart flutter. How could she always do this to him? "I suppose I've just felt a little lonely, lately."
Ron was surprised, but he bit his tongue before replying. Thinking about it, he realized that he hadn't spent much time with Hermione in the last few weeks, between Quidditch, Harry, and schoolwork. They sometimes studied together, but she was usually too involved with her texts, or he was too busy trying to come up with the words at the last minute for an essay, to really talk.
"So," he said lamely, "What's been new with you lately?"
"Not much," she shrugged. "I've spent a lot of time trying to track the news, for any idea of what Voldemort is up to." Ron winced as she said the name. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it.
"You hadn't said anything about him recently," Ron said, "I guess I didn't want to know what was happening. Has there been any news?"
"Nothing that's useful," she said. "An archaeologist from the Royal museum disappeared not far from here recently, but it didn't even make the Daily Prophet. If I weren't getting Muggle newspapers, I wouldn't even know. They haven't found any trace of him or his dog."
"You're getting Muggle newspapers?" Ron asked, incredulously. "I've never seen you with them."
"That's because you're never around, Ron," she said impatiently, "They're usually delivered just before dinner. Where are you in the afternoons, anyway?"
"I'd rather not talk about that here," he said, looking around furtively.
She nodded, looking at him questioningly. "Alright, but I'll hold you to that."
Ron nodded back. "As you wish. So, any ideas on how you want to spend the afternoon, between Potions and History of Magic?"
"Well, that's unexpected. You're actually asking to spend time with me?"
"Yes, I am. What do you want to do? Go to the library and read Hogwarts: A History?"
She laughed, "Well, actually, there is something I've been dying to do."
"You name it."
"I got a Muggle game from my family for my Birthday. I wondered if you'd be willing to play with me?"
"Sure, I'd love to," Ron replied.
For the rest of the morning, Ron was walking on air. He wasn't sure what had changed between him and Hermione, or if it was just that he'd finally realized something that had been there all along. She seemed to actually care whether he spent time with her or not, and he realized that he cared, too. The chance of spending time with her, doing something just for her, seemed like the most important thing in the world, even more important than figure out what Harry and Ginny were plotting.
After Potions, they hurried up to the Common Room. Harry was nowhere in sight, but Ron didn't let himself get sidetracked, for once. "So, did you read anything else in those papers?" Ron asked, while Hermione set up the game on one of the tables. She was laying out little wooden squares, a board, and wooden bars in front of each of them. The board had blue and pink squares inked on it, and some had stars or little words in them. It looked bizarre, and he couldn't imagine how it could be as fun as Exploding Snap, but he figured it was worth a try.
"Nothing too important," she said. "I saw in the Daily Prophet that Kwikspell is putting out a new line of books. Have you heard anything from your father about them?"
"No," he replied, a little concerned. "Why would I?"
"The ministry seems to be upset with the line that they're taking, trying to capitalize on Voldemort's return. Your father was quoted in one of the articles."
"Really?" Ron asked. "These would be books with titles like, 'How to Recognize a Death Eater by his shoes' and 'How to write a Death Eater-Proof Will'?"
She nodded. "Those were a few of them. There was also one called 'How to Get A Death Eater To Kill Someone Else Instead of You', I think. Atrocious stuff, really."
Ron swallowed. Well, she had said that they would be published soon. He just hoped they left him off the cover. He decided to change the subject. "So, um, anything else from the Muggle papers?"
"Well, there was a little more on the missing Archaeologist. Apparently, he was trying to follow the trail left by a pair of Japanese tourists who had visited in the late 1800s. I did some research on them, it looks like one of them may have been a Wizard, here on some business for his government. All the records were destroyed in the War, though, so we don't know what he was doing."
"Do you think it had something to do with Slytherin?" Ron asked, thinking of the book that was stolen over the summer.
"It might have," she sounded skeptical. "It could have to do with almost anything, though. Now, onto the game..."
She explained how the game went. They were to make up words with the letters, with more points for long words, or words on special squares on the board, or words that used up rare letters, like Q. He smiled. How hard could this be?
Two hours later, as they were getting ready to go to History of Magic, he had his answer. "How can there possibly be that many two-letter words?" he said, crossly.
"Oh, stop complaining," she said back to him. "I let you get away with fellytone, didn't I?"
He nodded, "But that wasn't on a triple-word score."
"I'm sorry I made you sit through it, then," she said, and she started to march towards the stairs.
"Wait," he said, grabbing her arm.
"What?" she asked back, her lower lip turned down.
"I wanted to say thank you."
"What?" she asked again in a high voice.
"I wanted to say thank you, for introducing me to something new. It was great to spend time with you."
"Well... you're welcome," she said weakly.
"Shall we get to class?" Ron asked, gesturing towards the stairs with his arm.
"Yes, we probably should," she said. They marched down the stairs together. On the way down, they passed Lavender. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face looked stricken, but she didn't look at them as they passed. Ron looked back at her, but Hermione kept moving. He wondered if she was okay, but he didn't want to risk upsetting Hermione by going after Lavender.
Valentin Vrag was already seated in the History of Magic classroom when they arrived. He was sitting in a chair in the corner, looking very attentive, with an open book in his lap and a self-inking quill in his hand. Ron was getting used to seeing their foreign guest in his classes. Valentin seemed to have nothing better to do while in Great Britain than to sit in classes with Gryffindors and Slytherins, which seemed a little suspicious to him. Then again, he'd been suspicious of anyone from Bulgaria since Viktor Krum's entrance in the Triwizard Tournament. Or, at least, since Viktor danced with Hermione.
He restrained his scowl with some difficulty, and sat next to Hermione. Ron pulled out his book for taking notes, but he left his Quidditch book in the bag. He didn't want to risk having Valentin see it accidentally.
Today's class focused more on the late eighteen hundreds, which apparently had been a time of great expansion for the Ministry of Magic in the United Kingdom. Ron couldn't imagine the Ministry without the immense bureaucracy it had become, but apparently it had once had many fewer departments.
Professor Binns also described some of the civic works that the Ministry had taken on during that time period, including, apparently, the creation of the British Magical Museum. Ron's attention was peaked by this, and he found himself listening avidly, much to the amazement of Hermione. Harry probably would have been even more amazed, if he had been awake.
As the hour drew to a close, and Professor Binns seemed ready to switch to another topic, Ron decided to risk speaking up. "Professor, can I ask you a question about the Museum?"
Professor Binns' translucent expression showed some amazement. "Yes, William, what did you want to know?"
"They had an exhibit on Hogwarts," Ron asked, "Do you know anything about it?"
"Well, yes. It was a matter of much controversy when they first created the exhibit. There was some feeling that they should give certain of the Founders more attention than others, or that they should leave some of the artifacts left by the Founders in storage, rather than displaying them. In the end, I believe that they decided that they should display all that had been donated by the families of the various Founders."
"Why wouldn't they want to display everything?" Hermione asked, her intellectual curiosity challenged.
"Well, Minerva, there was some feeling that certain of the items might still hold power, or that some secrets better left hidden might be openly available in the writings of the Founders. For example, Salazar Slytherin's biological research, or Godric Gryffindor's notes on his own contributions to the architecture of Hogwarts. Some believe that Slytherin was not alone in devising a secret chamber."
Valentin Vrag, who had remained so silent that Ron had almost forgotten that he was there, took this opportunity to speak out. "Professor, may I ask about something different? I believe you mentioned the contribution of the Bulgarian Mage's Guild to the Museum. Could I ask about that?"
Binns gladly discussed the contribution, since it involved relics from a Goblin revolt in Bulgaria, until the end of the class. Ron cursed Vrag silently for his intervention -- he'd hoped that he could have found something more useful out from Binns.
Hermione left the class arm in arm with Ron, with Harry, still groggy, bringing up the rear. She leaned over and whispered to Ron, "That was excellent. I wish I'd thought to ask him about that earlier."
"Me, too," Ron said glumly. "If only that bastard hadn't interfered, I might have been able to find out what Salazar's notes contained."
"That's not all," Hermione agreed, "Did you hear what he said about Godric Gryffindor? There might be another chamber here, somewhere, just waiting for us to find it."
"Count me out," Harry said, overhearing the last part. "I don't need to go exploring in the girls' washrooms again."
Apparently, he had made his feelings heard a little bit too loud. Another student spoke up from nearby. "I'm sure that Pansy will be grateful to hear that," Draco Malfoy said, "But I'm a little disturbed."
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron and Harry said in unison.
"Nice harmony," Draco repeated back. "Tell me, which one of you is the soprano and which one the alto? I always get those confused."
"I've had enough of this," Harry said proudly, and walked off. Draco watched him walk away, while Ron stood there, wondering why Malfoy wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Well, I guess that's all the fun for today," Draco said with false disappointment, throwing his flowing blonde hair over his shoulder. "It's not even worth talking to a Weasley." He started to turn away, but Ron grabbed his shoulder.
"I'm not through with you, Malfoy," he said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry," Draco sniffed, "Do you think you have anything to say to me? I can't believe that you'd have the courage to say anything without your friend here to protect you."
"I've got courage enough for a git like you, Malfoy," Ron snapped back.
They had drawn a crowd of students. Ron saw someone pushing their way through the crowd, and grimaced. "Is there something going on here?" Professor Kwikspell asked, acerbically.
Ron took a step back, "Nothing important, Professor."
Draco shook his head, "Nothing at all. Just discussing the nature of respect with Weasley, here."
Professor Kwikspell cocked her head. "Somehow, I imagine that there was more to the discussion. Five points from Gryffindor, and be off with you." The crowd dispersed quickly, students trying to avoid having any of the ill luck rub off on them.
Ron caught up with Harry in the hallway just outside the Great Hall. "What was that about, mate? Just leaving us there?"
"I thought you could handle Malfoy alone," Harry said. "Was I wrong?"
Ron was speechless.
"Look, I didn't mean it as an insult. It's just that one of these days, I'll need to finally take on Voldemort, and I don't think it will be long until that happens. When it does, I won't have time for Malfoy."
"But, that's not like it's going to happen tomorrow, is it?" Ron asked, looking for reassurance.
"Don't be too sure, mate," Harry said. "Don't be too sure. If I could find him..." His eyes were on fire. Ron decided that he had reason to worry -- he might be running out of time sooner than he thought.