QLFC — Finals R1 — Captain: write about someone struggling to be taken seriously, Ron Weasley

Summary: Ron decides to enter a cooking competition and go up against his mother, despite everyone else's hesitations.

Warning: Masterchef!AUish

WC. 2162

MasterRon

"The Daily Prophet is hosting a cooking competition!" Molly gasped, laying the paper out on the breakfast table.

Ron, Hermione, Harry and Bill all had to lift their plates to continue eating.

"You'll love that, Mum!" Bill said, hiding a smirk. "Are you going to enter?"

Molly's eyes darted across the paper as she read the large advertisement plastered on one of the back pages. Eventually, she looked up and beamed. "Of course! I will enter. It's next Saturday. That will give me time to prepare. Oh, how exciting. Finally, something to pass the time." She got to her feet, still smiling as she left the kitchen, muttering about having to tell Arthur.

"Well, at least she's happy," Bill said, smiling. "It's nice to see a smile on her face for once."

Everyone's eyes trailed to where Molly had exited, and then they all nodded. It was definitely good to see her smiling again. Since the war, since losing Fred, smiles from Molly had been hard to come by.

Ron leaned across the table and scanned the article.

Cooking competition being held in Hogsmeade next Saturday!

You will be required to cook three courses fo the judges — Madam Rosmerta, owner of the Three Broomsticks, Florean Fortescue from the beloved ice-cream parlour in Diagon Alley, and none other than current Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. The best overall scorer after the meals have been cooked and tasted will win.

Hosted by ex Wimbourne Wasps Beater, Ludo Bagman.

100 Galleons!

Send your ingredient list by no later than Friday 3pm. All ingredients and utensils will be provided. You'll only need your wand.

"You thinking of entering, are you?"

Ron looked up. Harry was smirking at him.

"Well…"

"I was joking," Harry said, and then his expression changed. He turned rather red. "Er, are you?"

"I dunno," Ron said. "I was thinking Mum might want the company. You know, someone there for support. I wouldn't say I should enter, but I —"

"I think you should!" Hermione said abruptly.

"What?" Harry and Bill said together.

Turning faintly pink, Hermione kept her gaze on Ron, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Believe it or not, Ron can actually cook. I have been the witness of this for a year now. He's learnt a lot from your mother, Bill."

After the war, when Hermione had been in Australia, Ron had spent a lot of his time with Molly, making sure she was okay. One of the things they had done a lot of together was cooking.

"Yes, but a cooking competition?" Bill asked.

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "You should enter, Ron."

"He's not going to beat Mrs Weasley," Harry said. "As much as I'd love to see it," he added hastily.

"He might."

Bill, Harry, and even Ron, watched her in stunned silence.

No one else thought he could do it, and truthfully, they were probably right. But...

"Alright," he said, "I guess I'll enter. I'll go against Mum."

…

It took Ginny a good five minutes to gather herself before she could speak. She looked at Ron, tears in her eyes and restraining another fit of laughter.

"You're going to try and beat Mum at cooking?"

"No!" Ron said defensively. "I know I can't beat her. I'm just going to enter."

Wiping more tears from her eyes, Ginny's expression sobered slightly. She now looked at him with mild concern. "Er, Ron, do you remember Quidditch? When you had to perform in front of a crowd? You… couldn't."

"I won a game, thanks!" Ron said irritably.

Ginny stared at him. "But Ron… why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" Ron snapped. "I can enter if I want. It'll be fun."

"Can you cook?"

"Yes."

"I mean, can you —"

"I can!" Ron said. "Ask Hermione."

"I just don't want you to embarrass yourself," Ginny said. "I actually care about you and don't want to see you completely humiliated…"

"I'm going to do this," Ron said. "So either accept it, or don't talk about it. I still want to do it."

…

"Ron, dear…"

Ron looked up from where he was flipping through all of his mother's recipe books. He had a little over a day to pick what he was going to cook, and he still hadn't decided. Hermione had really talked him up, he felt. He did most of the cooking at home because he tended to finish work earlier. Not really because he was all that good at it.

In fact, he was beginning to think this was a terrible idea. He couldn't cook at all. Not enough to enter a competition — especially against his own mother.

Molly stood in front of Ron, her eyes scanning all the books laid out in front of him. She bit her lip, which trembled ever so slightly.

"What?" Ron asked, harsher than he intended. He knew what was coming. Everyone all week had been trying to talk him out of it. Ginny, Bill, Percy, and even Harry. They all seemed to think he'd collapse under the pressure or embarrass himself when it came to the crunch. Cooking was their mother's domain, not Ron's.

And now it seemed that Molly — who had been delighted that her son would be entering with her — agreed with them.

"Have you still not found anything?" Molly asked with hesitation.

"Nothing that I think will work." Ron closed the fifth book and sighed heavily. "I suppose you're here to tell me to pull out, too? That I'm doing this for all the wrong reasons? That I can't compete against someone like you?"

"Of course I'm — I just thought… that maybe… Ron, dear, do you really want to do this? Cooking hasn't really held your interest, has it?"

"Says who?" Ron asked.

"Well, apart from those few months, you haven't really —"

"I cook at home," Ron told her. "I mean, mine and Hermione's home."

"Yes, of course, but —"

"You also think I'll crack under the pressure, don't you?" Ron asked. "Like I have in the past."

"No, I just want to make sure you're doing this for the right reasons and not to make a point."

"What point?" Ron asked.

Molly's mouth opened, closed again, and she said nothing more. But her thoughts were written clear over her face. His own mother didn't think he could do it.

Feeling a surge of determination course through him, Ron flung the book back open again to a random page. He grabbed the parchment and quill and scribbled the ingredients down. He then opened an entree book and picked another dish at random, and then flicked to the back for a dessert.

He folded the parchment up, snapped the books shut and stood up.

"If anyone is looking for me, I'll be at the post office in Diagon Alley," he said, and he left his stunned mother in the room.

…

If he was being honest with himself, Ron had not expected such a turnout to a stupid cooking event. In fact, he had thought it would only be the family members of the four participants who had bothered to enter — and two of them belonged to the same family.

But apparently it had piqued the interest of some of the Hogwarts students, who had decided to watch rather than spend their time at Honeydukes.

Quite a large crowd gathered by the Hogs Head, where the competition would be taking place. In front of the four contestants — Ron, Molly, a witch Molly's age who had claimed to be called Hilda, and the most surprising of all, Luna Lovegood — were the benches with a stovetop, an oven and all the ingredients they had requested.

Over at Luna's bench, there were three squids engaged in a battle, to which she was watching, intrigued. Ron was glad he was at the other end of the room.

Upon seeing the number of people who were there, a queasiness he hadn't felt before hit him. What had he been thinking? He couldn't cook. Hermione was just being nice because… well, because she couldn't cook either. And she was his girlfriend.

Harry, Ginny, Bill, Molly… they were right. Even Luna — whatever she was planning on cooking with three live squids — would probably do better than him.

Bagman was introducing them all, but Ron wasn't listening. Amongst the crowd he could spot his sister and Harry who were muttering with concerned expressions and eyes glancing his way.

Even Hermione, who had been nothing but encouraging for the past week, looked doubtful. She gave him a smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

He swallowed.

No one had believed in him; they'd all thought he was entering for the wrong reasons. And he realised now they were one hundred percent right.

He couldn't cook.

"Our contestants have one hour for each course, to which they'll serve to the judges," Bagman was explaining.

Ron's stomach churned.

"The judges will then award a score out of ten for each meal. The person with the highest score at the end will be the winner."

There was polite applause amongst the crowd.

Ron glanced over at the three judges. Their faces were hard, not giving anything away. It was as if they were already planning to dislike everything. And to think he had once been rather fond of all three of them. Now, they all seemed like the enemy.

He had really made a terrible mistake.

"Contestants, are you ready?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically. Hilda eyed her with annoyance. Luna was still watching the squids.

Ron swallowed and then nodded. He had no choice now.

"Your time starts… now!"

…

Ron wiped the sweat from his brow. With four ovens and stoves going, the room was sweltering. A few people had left to get some air, while others had conjured fans to help keep them cool.

The one thing that didn't leave, though, was the doubtful expressions on everyone's faces.

Every so often — when he was having trouble — Ron would glance up, appealing for encouragement. But the only response he got was a grimace, or a half-smile.

After what he felt was a terrible entree of pumpkin soup, and a mediocre main course involving chicken that didn't look like chicken, his confidence diminished as Bagman declared they had only five minutes left for dessert.

He was way behind everyone else, who were beginning to plate up their dishes. His dish hadn't even finished cooking yet.

Molly — his own damn mother — shot him an encouraging look. But hidden behind it was pity, a look that said I told you so.

Ron stared back at the oven. The pudding was cooking, but not quick enough.

The crowd began to cheer as the clock on the wall began to tick down.

"One minute!" Bagman shouted.

Ron tapped his wand against the oven, sweat trickling down his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw Molly add the garnish to her plate.

You've got this, he thought. You can do this.

And he opened the oven and removed the pudding. It wobbled, it looked as if it would fall apart at the slightest touch, but it would have to do.

"Thirty seconds!"

He sliced it up. It didn't crumble, thank Merlin.

"Twenty seconds!"

He used his wand to Vanish all the extra mess on the plate. Then he added a garnish.

"Ten seconds. Nine. Eight…"

Ron wiped his brow. Well, this was it.

Suddenly, he really wanted to win.

…

Molly placed the trophy on the cabinet, beaming.

Everyone followed behind her, exhausted and tired, but no one more than Ron, who collapsed onto the armchair and rubbed his face with his filthy, grease-stained hands.

Hermione sat beside him on the arm, Harry on the other.

"You did well, mate," Harry said, clapping him on the back.

"Amazing!" Hermione agreed.

Ron looked up at them both, gave a small smile, and nodded. "Yeah, I did alright," he agreed.

"And, hey," Ginny said, coming over to stand beside Hermione. "Third place isn't too bad."

Ron nodded again. He didn't feel disappointed. He felt happy that his mother had won, and despite his initial fears, his scores hadn't been that bad. The judges had been impressed, particularly with the pudding.

What was it that McGonagall had said? "I always knew you had a special talent, Weasley."

Apparently, that special talent involved a delicious baked custard pudding, of all things.

"I think a celebration is in order," Arthur said, grinning.

"So do I," Bill said.

"But I don't think I could cook another thing today!" Molly said.

Ron looked up at her, and she gave him a small smile. He returned it and shook his head. "I couldn't either!"

Everyone else laughed, and it was Ginny who said, "Well you'll just have to eat the food of the mediocre cooks in this family."

And they all laughed again.

Woo, Cannons are in the finals! We finished second on the ladder, so even if we lose round 1, we get a second chance, so there will be at least ONE more fic for this collection (hopefully 2!)

Thank you (as usual) to my wonderful team for betaing!