School: Hogwarts
Year: 3
Topic: Gripping Openings and Special Punctuation
Word Count: 994
Hermione regarded the frog with trepidation as it hopped from the sleeve of Ron's abandoned nightshirt on an otherwise empty bed. But that's ridiculous, she tried to tell herself over and over again. She had seen Ron just the other day and he had been the usual lumbering ginger wizard then.
Harry had assured her Ron was still in the boys dorm–sulking. Had he been mistaken? Could Ron have slipped from the common room earlier? But that didn't explain what a frog was doing in his place.
"Ron?" She whispered and knelt to the bedside.
The little amphibian wriggled over the sea of rumpled sheets on the bed.
"Ron, is that you?"
The frog blinked his shiny yellow eyes back at her (in what seemed to be affirmation). She squeezed her eyes tight begging her imagination to calm down. Still, the leadened guilt in her stomach began to boil. Hours ago she had cursed his name and wished awful things for him.
"Did I do this?" She asked, horrified.
The frog made an audible gulp and hopped the gap between them so that he was right in front of her face. She felt her lip tremble as she recognized the smattering of freckles–now green–on the expanse of the frog's wide amber-colored nose.
"Oh Merlin, What have I done?!" She fell back and pushed away from the frog in shame. She had come to him now to make amends, clearly she was already too late. Unintentional transfigurations were rare but not impossible; it usually involved children and extremely volatile emotions, or so Hermione had read. Last night, the things she said–the things they said to each other–had proved to be very childish and volatile indeed. Could she have turned him into a frog in a fit of subconscious revenge magic? Their row over a botched potion had been brutal, yes, but surely they had been through worse; they spent nearly all of third year giving each other the silent treatment. Was it possible that with age, and more pent up feelings between them, the consequences of hurt feelings had become more extreme?
Did Ron truly infuriate her to the point of wishing him to another species? Looking back at the frog in Ron's bed again, Hermione knew the answer was…complicated.
"Hey guys, is everything alright?" Harry called from the corridor before poking his head into the room. "Hermione, where's Ron?"
"Harry, you are positive that Ron was here in bed before you came down to the common room, right?" Hermione picked herself off the ground; trying her best not to look visibly shaken.
"Well, his curtains were drawn when I got up and Ron's not really one for a morning stroll, especially on a Saturday," He chuckled.
Hermione ticked her lips up in an attempt to join his laughter with a smile, but she was too horrified to mean it. She glanced over to the frog perched at the edge of Ron's bed.
Harry followed her gaze. "Hey, where did that frog come from? Why is he on Ron's bed? It's not Trevor, is it?"
"Harry, Trevor is a toad; this is clearly a frog and…and I think it is Ron! I–I think I turned him into one!"
"WHAT!? Hermione I thought you were coming up to apologize! I knew I should have supervised the two of you after last night's fight."
"I did come to apologize!" Hermione urged. "He was like this when I got here! But maybe–I don't know–maybe I was so mad at him that last night, I wished him into something less offensive."
"You wished him into a frog?" Harry parroted frantically.
"That's my theory."
"Well…bloody hell, Hermione, wish him back!" Harry scooped up Ron and held him up to her face.
"I don't know how!" Hermione cried out, unable to look her amphibious victim in the eye. "We need to go to Madame Pomfrey, or maybe Professor McGonagall."
"Alright, come on, Mate." Harry cupped the frog close to his chest and nodded for Hermione to lead him out the door.
"Just don't let anyone see him."
They rushed down stairs to the common room, careful to not to call attention to themselves as they made their way to the portrait hole.
"Hermione, what if he's stuck like this?" Harry asked once they were in the hall. Ron was curled up in his palm, as round and smooth as a river stone.
"He won't be." Hermione had to swallow her doubt. To even entertain the alternative; to never see Ron–in his true form–again; to never get to tell him how she truly felt was too painful.
"But what if he is."
Hermione stopped her march to the infirmary and confronted Harry face to face, "I won't give up on Ron, Harry, will you?"
"Who's giving up on me?"
Hermione and Harry turned, startled by the new voice in the conversation. Ron Weasley, well and human, stood before them holding a ragged bouquet of herbs and flowers.
"RON!"
"Yeah." He jumped back, confused. He brandished his flowers against his friends,"What's going on? Whose frog is that?"
"You're here!" Hermione cried, she ran up and threw her arms around him. He did not complain and hugged her back (even though no one was answering his questions).
"Yeah, I…erm couldn't sleep, our fight last night was stupid. I was stupid."
Hermione released him and stepped back. Their fight felt so small in the chaos of the morning.
"I went out and found everything I took from your potions ingredients stash. Sorry," Ron nudged the handful of herbs towards Hermione, and she tentatively accepted them.
"I'm sorry, too. I went to find you." She held the bouquet of herbs as if it were roses. They shared a shy smile and blushed, until a sniffle interrupted the moment.
"Alright there, mate?" Ron asked.
Harry, glassy eyes and tenderly holding the frog that wasn't Ron, said, "I'm just so glad Hermione didn't wish you into a frog."
A/N: Please judge the following for the Punctuation Challenge
Semi-colons
Unintentional transfigurations were rare but not impossible; it usually involved children and extremely volatile emotions, or so Hermione had read.
Their row over a botched potion had been brutal, yes, but surely they had been through worse; they spent nearly all of third year giving each other the silent treatment.
Dashes
She felt her lip tremble as she recognized the smattering of freckles–now green–on the expanse of the frog's wide amber-colored nose.
Last night, the things she said–the things they said to each other–had proved to be very childish and volatile indeed.
Brackets
The frog blinked his shiny yellow eyes back at her (in what seemed to be affirmation).
