Disclaimer- Not mine! Belongs to our God- J.K Rowling!

A/N: OK, this isn't my idea; it belongs to some other writer. However, this other writer hasn't updated since the year 2000, so I kind of figured I'd have a shot at it... Hope you enjoy and please review!

Ron's mind.

It was Christmas Eve. Ron Weasley sat, crouched up, on his bed, with his arms clasped tightly around his knees. It was dark in the dormitory, with moonlight shining clearly through a window. He was all alone in the room- all his friends and family were downstairs enjoying the Butterbeer Fred, George and Harry had smuggled in. Ron sighed and started to rock slightly from side to side. 'Nobody gave a damn about him. He was just poor little Ronniekins, who everybody forgot about. Harry and Hermione were just his friends out of sympathy and his siblings spoke to him just because it was their duty'.

The door suddenly swung open and Harry strode into the room.

"Come on, Ron! Where are you? It's mad down there. Come on down and enjoy yourself!" he cried,

"Nah, I'm ok up here thanks, Harry," replied Ron,

"Aw come on. It's not good for you to be up here all by yourself!" sighed Harry, crossing his arms.

"I don't care. As I said, I'm fine up here," said Ron, angrily,

"Fine, suit yourself," said Harry, stomping out of the room.

Ron sighed. Harry was certainly in a mood with him now. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't been born.

Suddenly something caught his eye. He turned his head and stared out of the window. There was a bright light out there. Ron got up and walked slowly over to the window. He pressed his nose against it and looked at the bright, white star. It was the star Sirius. After Sirius had died last June, Harry had gone through a patch where he had suddenly got into astrology and every night during the summer holidays, Harry had made Ron come out and search the skies for the star Sirius. Therefore, Ron knew exactly what the star Sirius looked like.

Outside, Sirius winked and almost seemed the beckon. It appeared to be getting brighter and brighter, until Ron had to screw his eyes up at the glare. Unexpectedly, Ron heard a silvery quiet voice on the breeze. "Make a wish on me, Ron"

He blinked, startled. Had he really heard that?

"You're not hearing things. Make a wish on me, Ronald Weasley. Make a wish on me!"

'I will,' thought Ron, 'and I know exactly what I want to wish for'.

"I wish," said Ronald Weasley, to the dark and silent dormitory, "I wish that I had never been born!"