The Fifth Visitor: Black

Hermione was wide-awake now, eagerly awaiting the next trait of Ron to visit her. She heard the door open roughly. Then the visitor slammed it shut. Hermione was startled and worried that he had awakened the other patients or Madam Pomfrey. She opened the curtains herself to tell him off. But the Ron she saw scared her a bit. He cast a weird, dark, black glow around the room. His dark shirt and sagged pants were purposefully ripped in some places. He was wearing chains around his neck and from his belt. His hair was spiked, and he had an evil smirk on his face. He stalked over to Hermione, who wasn't too sure she wanted to talk to this one.

"I'll give three chances to guess who I am," he growled.

"Er… one of Ron's traits?"

"No shit, Sherlock. But which one am I?"

"Er, his swearing trait?" Hermione squeaked. Ron simply stared at her dangerously.

"His door-slamming trait?" No response. He just stared. Malevolence burned in his eyes.

"His staring trait?"

Ron leered at her. "Evidently Little-Miss-Know-It-All is nothing but a smartass. I am Ron's bad side. I'm the devil on his shoulder. I'm the on who makes him attack Malfoy and anyone else who pisses him off. I swear, someday I'm gonna kill that kid. I just want to strangle him," he motioned in the air violently, making Hermione cringe.

He looked down at her, who was trembling. He grinned evilly. "Speaking of killing, you didn't guess who I was. So I get to kill you!" He pulled out a switchblade as he laughed maniacally and advanced on her. Hermione screamed.

"Shut up! I'm just joking!" He laughed at her cruelly and put the knife away.

She was still terrified. "Y-you aren't as funny as th-the last one!"

"Oh, Orangie? Yeah, that one's annoying as hell."

"You have nicknames for each other?" Hermione asked, not quite relaxed yet.

"Yeah. We call Orangie Broom-ass, Brownie Shithead and, Whitie Mr. Anal-Retentive-Goody-Goody. I'm called El Ronaldo. Actually I just made those up."

"You're pretty twisted, you know that?" Hermione said disapprovingly. She was very glad that this specter was much fainter then the rest, meaning that there wasn't so much bad in Ron.

"I'm as twisted as they get, sister!" he grinned evilly again. Hermione was apprehensive again. Then suddenly his smile became kinder. "I'm sorry," he said, "I know I'm pretty mean sometimes. I'll try to be nicer. Hey, you liked Orangie, right? I can be funny too! I have some good jokes! Do you want to hear them?" He gazed at her innocently.

His sudden change of heart made Hermione want to give him a chance. So she smiled encouragingly and said she wanted to hear his jokes.

He smiled timidly and said, "I hope you like dead house-elf jokes…"

Hermione's jaw dropped in horror. She hated sick jokes like that, especially about poor house-elves. She stammered "No, no, no!-" but he had already started his joke-telling.

"How many house-elves does it take to paint a house?" Hermione didn't want to know but couldn't respond. "Depends how hard you throw them!" Ron's smile was becoming evil again. His whole innocence thing had been an act. He continued:

"How do you make a dead house-elf float? Two scoops of ice cream, one scoop of dead house-elf! What do you call a dead house-elf with no arms and no legs hanging on your wall?Art!"

"Stop it!" yelled Hermione, stuffing her fingers in her ears. But he wouldn't stop. He just yelled his jokes so she'd hear.

"How do you know if your house-elf died? It will accept clothes without a fight! How many house-elves does it take to make dinner? Depends on how hungry you are!"

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" screamed Hermione. "I don't want to hear anymore! Leave me alone!"

Ron smiled demonically. "I won't leave till you admit I'm as funny as Orangie!"

"NO! I won't! You're not funny!"

"I'm not leaving then. Want to hear another?"

"NO! Leave me alone!"

"What do you call a dead house-elf with - "

"OKAY! YOU'RE FUNNY! Please leave now!"

"Nah! I changed my mind," Ron said carelessly.

Hermione's anger made her get over her disgust. "Tell me, El Ronaldo, how are you so horrible?"

"What do you mean?"

"I never thought there was a part of Ron that was so cruel before I met you. Where did he get his evilness?"

"You mean where did I get my evilness? Well, that's a question of nature versus nurture. I guess I got the evil genes from his parents, and the twins' influence probably made me more evil. They got loads more evil in them than me."

"They do? Really?"

"DUH!" he said sarcastically.

His insensitive reply made Hermione scowl. "Well, I guess that explains a lot. So, are you going to leave soon?"

"Well, since you want me to… I think I'll stay," he said evilly. Hermione tried to show no emotion on her face.

"Actually, talking to you is really boring. I will leave. But before I do, it's time to do some arson!" He pulled out a lighter and held it out, deciding what to light first.

"NO! DON'T! PLEASE!"

Ron looked at her amused, pulled out a cigarette and lit it instead. "If you weren't such a pathetic prat, Hermione, you'd have remembered that it is impossible to commit arson in this school, due to fire-proofing spells, according to Hogwarts, A History."

Hermione was shocked at her mistake, embarrassed, indignant, and angry at the same time.

"I hate you," she murmured.

He laughed malevolently and blew black, wispy smoke in her face. "I'll remember that, maybe tell the others that you hate Ron. Sweet dreams!" Before he turned to leave, out of sheer malevolence, he pulled on her bed curtains so violently that they ripped down. Finally he left and slammed the door behind him. Hermione groped for her wand on the bedside table and repaired the curtains, feeling more offended and angry than she had ever felt before. Her head had started to hurt again. She didn't want to see anymore of Ron's personas. But then she thought, How could any of them be any worse than that one?