Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor

Chapter Thirteen : The Great Hall

A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be
tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear
more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea.
	-- John Ciardi

Ron ran down the stairs towards the Great Hall, worried that he was going to miss the Leaving Feast. He had taken some extra time to put wards around the Armor of Gryffindor, worried about its safety on the train ride back, and now he was running late.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mister Weasley," came Professor Kwikspell's voice from behind him, "for running in the hallways."

Ron skidded to a stop and turned around, his eyes flaring. "What is your problem with me, Professor? I get that my father doesn't like your books, but why are you taking it out on me?"

She looked stunned by the fact that he had talked back to her. Come to think of it, he was surprised too. Ron, despite his temper, had usually kept his cool around Professors. He'd usually managed to remember who was in charge, and bow his head to them, acting appropriately. Well, not always with Snape, but he was the one exception.

"I think you forget your place," Professor Kwikspell said. Her lips were pursed, her teeth gritted, and her anger was obvious as she spoke through them.

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"Who do you think you are, talking like this to a Hogwarts Professor?"

"Professor, I think I'm a person. I've never treated you with anything but respect, and you've treated me with nothing but contempt. Could you just tell me why you have a problem with me? Not with the Weasleys in general, but with me?"

The Professor was dumbstruck. She turned, and walked away. Ron thought about asking her if he'd still lost the house points, but he thought that might have been too much. Instead, he continued running down. Turning the corner, he suddenly collided with something, and fell flat on his back.

He didn't see anything there. He squinted, and asked uncertainly, "Harry?"

"Bugger," a muffled voice said, and Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Leaving Feast?"

"Shouldn't you? What are you up to, Harry?" Ron asked. Then he got angry. "You were trying to find him, weren't you? You were trying to leave again."

"Ron, I have to. It's my job to find him."

Ron replied, "Harry, if you keep this up, you're going to get killed. You're not ready."

"And when will I be?" Harry snapped back at him. "When you tell me I am? When Dumbledore does?"

"Well, that's a good start," Ron replied, "How about, when you've completed school? It might be nice to have another year of education behind you before you take him on. Or maybe, when you've gotten your Apportation license, so you don't have to take the Knight Bus to visit the Dark Lord."

"I wasn't going to take the Knight Bus this time," Harry said, sullen, "I was going to fly my broom." He waved his hand, showing the broom still hidden under the cloak.

"Beautiful, and where will you go?"

"I'm not sure," Harry replied. He didn't even seem to see how absurd his position was.

Ron sighed, "You know, Harry, I've heard people say that the standard Gryffindor battle plan is to scream and then leap. I always thought that was a little exaggerated. Until now."

Harry was defensive, "Look, it's not my fault if Voldemort is out to get me."

"But it will be your fault if he gets you," Ron answered, "And then it will all be over. Look, I know you'll end up doing what you want anyway, but can't you at least wait until you have a slightly more solid plan? Maybe you could at least figure out what you're going to scream, and where you are going to leap?"

Harry nodded. He looked sheepish. "Look, Ron, could you not mention this to Ginny? She still hasn't forgiven me for not being there when the bug got her."

"I'll think about it," Ron said, "if you'll promise to wait until at least next fall before you go running off. And if you'll promise to tell your friends before you do something stupid."

"Alright," Harry said, "I think I can agree to that. But if he comes after me, or my friends, I'm not going to let him get away."

"If he shows up on Privet Drive, Harry, you have my full blessing to take care of him," Ron said with mock solemnity, "as soon as he's done with the Dursley's"

"Agreed," Harry said, "Let's go to dinner."

Harry and Ron walked the rest of the way down to the Hall, and joined the celebration. The decorations were already up, in the familiar red and gold. "Wait, this isn't right," Ron said. "I thought Hufflepuff was in the lead."

"Didn't you hear?" Harry asked, "They ended up losing fifty points last night. Apparently Terry Boots was betting some first years that they wouldn't be brave enough to spend the night in the Arachneataur's lair."

"Well, then, I guess we won't need to have Dumbledore award us a pile of points at the last minute this year," Ron replied. He eyed Lavender -- she was sitting by herself, again, hunched over her plate at the end of the table. "Just a minute, Harry. There's something I have to take care of."

Harry followed his eyes. "I thought you and Hermione were, well, you know."

"We are. I think. Well, I know I am. It's complicated. But I can't just leave her alone. I don't think she has any other friends."

"Well," Harry said, clapping his hand on his shoulder, "we have a tradition of making that our problem, don't we. Want me to come along?"

"No, that's alright, Harry. I'll take care of it."

Ron sat down next to Lavender. "How are you doing?"

She looked up. She moved her hair out of the way. It was a mess, he saw. Her face was puffed up, and she had dark circles under her eyes. "Great," she said, smiling. It looked as if she hadn't smiled for years. "How about you?"

"Not bad," he said. "Look, I promised I would sit next to Hermione, but I really wanted to tell you how much I appreciated the time we spent talking this year."

"Me too," she said, although she looked less happy than she had a minute ago. "I wish we could have spent more time together."

"Maybe next year," he said, "If you don't mind hanging around with the rest of the group, that is."

"I think I could live with that," she said. "Will you write me this summer?"

"Absolutely," he said, and then he thought better. "Look, I'm not that good at writing, alright? If I just say that I'll write, I'll probably never get around to it. I'll promise to write you back each time you write to me, though."

"It's a deal," she said, and she held out her hand to shake. He took it, and she pulled him a little closer, and standing up on her toes, she kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Go ahead and get back to Hermione. Thanks for being a friend."

Ron was blushing, and he stammered his good bye. "I'll see you train on the tomorrow. I mean, tomorrow on the train. Take care."

Ron was on his way back to his normal seat, hoping that Hermione wouldn't give him the cold shoulder, but feeling better about himself for having talked with Lavender, when a Slytherin stepped into his way. It wasn't the usual Slytherin git, either.

"Zabini," Ron acknowledge coolly.

"Weasley," Blaise responded. "Would you mind if I had a talk with you in the corridor for a minute?"

Ron shrugged, and led the way out into the hall.

"So, Blaise, what did you need to talk about? Finally ready to lead a revolt against Malfoy?"

"No, I'm not here to talk about the Ferret."

Ron stifled a chuckle. He decided that Blaise couldn't be all bad, house aside, if he could joke about Draco. He replied thoughtfully, "Then what do you want to talk about?"

Blaise was direct. He responded, "You. And, more specifically, where you learned to crack a skull with one blow."

"That's kind of a long story," Ron said, wondering how much he should tell this, or any, Slytherin.

"I understand. To cut to the chase, then, my question is - would you like a sparring partner next year?" Seeing the mystified look on Ron's face, Blaise continued. "I know a few things about hand to hand fighting myself. I saw you out there with Professor Ding, practicing. You've got some amazing talent, but there's a lot for you to learn. I'd like to trade off; you teach me what you know, how to hit someone like a Norwegian Ridgeback."

"And what will you teach me?" Ron asked.

"How to duck," Blaise responded, smiling. "Do we have a deal?"

Ron thought, and then nodded. "I think so. Professor Ding said that she'd be too busy to practice with me next year, if she comes back to school at all. We'll have to find a better place to practice, though. The Pitch is too wide open, and I don't think you'll want to be seen with me."

Blaise smiled, broadly. "You're right about that," he said. "But, don't worry, I have a place in mind."

"Where?" Ron asked.

"Don't worry," Blaise repeated. "I'll lead you to it next fall. Just send me a copy of your schedule after the first week, and I'll figure out when we can get together."

"Sounds like a plan," Ron said, and he held out his hand. "See you in the fall?"

Blaise took his hand, and shook briefly, smirking back at Ron. "See you then."

They parted, by unsaid agreement walking back into the hall separately.

"So," Ron said to Hermione, sitting back down next to her as if nothing had happened, "did you ever find out anything more about the archaeologist?"

Hermione was taken aback by his abruptness, but recovered quickly. "Yes, I did. It turns out that he was on the trail of a famous object, called the Amulet of Yendor."

"What was this so-called Amulet supposed to do?" Ron replied.

"It was supposed to guarantee the immortality of the Wizard who wore it," she said, "but that's ridiculous, of course."

"Why?"

"Well, Salazar Slytherin himself was said to have owned it at one point, and if it gave him immortality, he would still be out there somewhere, wouldn't he?"

Ron looked at her. "You know, if I ranked arguments in the order that I'd like to hear, that's probably pretty low on the list."

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled, but Ginny broke in, sitting nearby.

Ginny looked somber. "Because, knowing Hogwarts, he probably is."