1992-04 january

Ron was sitting alone in the library, in a little alcove he found under an high window. He was irked, and reading through a thick tome entitled Enchanted Mirrors and Why Mistrusting Them is Wise. It had been written in 1847 by a certain Eris Riflessa, and the young ravenclaw didn't understand if a wizard or a witch that published something had to be named in a way that ironically directed toward the topic they treated.

The italian witch knew her enchanted mirrors, that Ron could not deny, even if her english was somewhat poor. From time to time he jotted down notes into a spare piece of parchment, and while many of the ideas considered in the book were fascinating, the realization of the simplest of them was way over his head.

The part that truly annoyed him however, was the total absence of any mention of mirrors that showed you things that didn't exist. Mirrors that talked, mirrors that showed you another place, mirrors to comunicate (he wrote down everything about that chapter for future use) It was just sad that you needed a bunch of silver to fill the runes carvings needed for the last one to work properly, and even then, the sound transmitted through twins mirrors was easy to intercept. There were even ways to enchant mirrors to hold small objects, however the items would be destroyed if the surface of the mirror was ever to crack, even a tiny bit. The whole second half of the thick tome contained speculations about how to turn a mirror into a 'door' to another mirror. Eris Riflessa seemed to suggest that it could work in a way similar to the twins mirrors. But after a few pages she contradicted herself sustaining that the twins mirrors communicated through 'resonance' and a 'transfiguration of light carried over by a protean charm'. He added transfiguring light and protean charm on another parchment that contained future topics of research.

"Tracey wrote me that you've been thrown out of the Chess Club" a voice suddenly whispered.

Ron jumped from his seated position straight as a rod, before recognizing the voice and cursing under his breath. "What the fuck Harry! This joke wasn't funny the first time, and sure as hell it's not getting better with practice!" He hissed to the empty air, which shimmered, revealing a grinning Potter holding his invisibility cloak in his right hand and a big leather bound book in the other.

"Uh, hanging around Davies coloured your vocabulary Ron." Noticed the amused Slytherin, "And I beg to differ, it was funny the first time, and it's getting more and more refined each time I practice it. It's like you with your fire making charm, really."

"What? I'm.."

"..slowly building up to greater things." Harry completed what he was about to say before him. "Yes, yes, I know, I think I found sonething interesting, give it a look."

It was heavy, a thick leather cover around what looked like more than a thousand of thin pages. So parchment, not vellum. Ron noted. The title was sewn with silver thread: The Mind Arts by Vega Black.

"Black? Harry how deep in the Forbidden Section have you gone?" whined Ron. At the uncaring shrug of his Slytherin friend, he sighed. "Well the title is straighfoward at least. You think the mirror you found reads our minds?"

"Well it makes sense in a way, the images it shows sure aren't coming out of nowhere." Harry replied, while grabbing Enchanted Mirrors and Why Mistrusting Them is Wise. "I'm going to put this one back, ok? We can lie and say that one book had been misplaced, but if we get caught with two tomes from the Restricted Section..."

Even with a passing glance, Ron could tell that the tome was important. A book that introduced a whole branch of magic that he never heard of before? He must sneak it up in his room.

Ron was shook out of his reverie when Harry poked him: "Oh? Oh yes, I agree. I still don't know why you're the one sneaking around hidden and I'm the one that risks being found out breaking the rules."

"Well, I'm better at sneaking, for one thing. I'm not that good with learning from books, I'm more a hands down type of learner, you know that, and you read faster than me." Harry answered.

Ron shook his head at the blatant attempt at manipulating. "Bloody Slytherins." he whispered.

"And proud to be!" answered the now invisible form in front of the Ravenclaw, before walking away silently.

That night was the eighth one in which they found themselves in the Mirror's room.

Harry was staring into it longingly, and there were his mother and father smiling at him again, with Ronald and Hermione hugging him from time to time, or giving him reassuring pats on his back.

"Harry, stop looking into it." whispered Ron.

The Slytherin sat down on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

"Mate, I'm here, not in there." insisted the voice. Harry shook his head, focusing on the blindfolded Ravenclaw. "Harry, they're not real, and we were right it has something to do with the eyes, now let's grab the invisibility cloak and..."

An ancient voice interrupted him.

"So back again, you two?"

The two first years felt as though their insides had turned to ice. Harry looked behind himself, while Ron quickly did the same, untying his blindfold.. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. They must have walked straight past him, so determined to get to the mirror that they hadn't noticed him.

"We... We didn't see you, sir." Ron stammered.

"Strange how short sighted being invisible can make you, don't you agree?" said Dumbledore, and the firsties were relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry and Ron "You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. And from the books you've been reading, I expect you've realised by now not only what it does, but also have tried to figure out the how?"

"Well it shows us whatever we want..." said Harry, and Ron nodded before adding "We thought he read our minds through the eyes..." The ancient wizard slowly clapped.

"Yes and no, to both of your answers." said Dumbledore quietly. "It does not however, read your minds. It reads much deeper, to the core. Its enchantment, or curse, is triggered when someone gazes into it. But that is only because its a mirror. And enchantments cannot completely ignore the nature of the object they are woven into." He explained.

"As for what it does, it shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. Forgive me, for the invasion on your privacy, but neither of you should have been around after curfew, so take it as a lesson. You Harry, who have never known your family, see them standing around you, along with the new family you found at Hogwarts. I'm talking obviously, of your ravenclaw companion. And Ronald, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, and ignored by his family, sees himself standing proud, as someone worthy of being aknowledged. As someone capable of being the next Centennial Wizard. With his family and friends' admiration and your companionship."

The two first year students glanced at each other, somewhat embarrassed by having their deepest desire so easily revealed. Dumbledore went on with his kind voice, ignoring their reactions.

"I have never seen a friendship so deep grow so fast, and it truly warms my old heart. If I got this right, if you were to look at it again in a few months, miss Granger would join your reflection. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. Now I will warn you, the Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, and I neither of you will go looking for it again. If you ever do run across similar illusions out to ensnare your minds, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, Harry, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed? I'll walk Ronald back to his common room, we need to talk about his chess performance."

Harry and Ronald both stood up, exchanging a nod with each other. Harry quickly donned his cloak whispering 'goodnight', and almost bolted from the room.

Dumbledore walked over the young Ravenclaw, "Let's walk together, shall we?"

Slowly they made their way out of the room, Ron kept his eyes downcast, almost ashamed of what had just been revealed. But mostly annoyed by the Headmaster's nosiness. Not only he shouldn't have spied on them (and for more than one night too!) but most certainly he should not have spoke about what they saw in the Mirror so casually. "It was extremely callous of me, bringing up your hearts desires with seemingly so little care." the ancient wizard said.

Ron was brought up short by his words, but sure as hell they didn't sound as an apology, not that he would forgive his nosiness anytime soon, Great Sorcerer or not. He spotted them breaking the rules, fine, he should have taken house points, give them detention and send them on their merry way. Dumbledore kept looking foward, not even casting a single glance to the annoyed ravenclaw. "But as I said, take it as a lesson. Alastor, an old friend of mine, would be appalled by your lack of constant vigilance. And insight on our own true character, is a gift we rarely recieve. Knowing your heart deepest desire can be a good point from which you can start the never ending journey of introspection. After all, while the mirrors never shows reality, It doesn't lie with the meanings of what he shows. I thought it better clearing the air immediately between mr. Potter and you. After all, three things can't be hidden for long, Sun, Moon..."

"... and Truth." Ronald interrupted him, completing the Buddhist quote. Dumbledore turned his twinkling eyes on him at that point, sporting a delighted smile: "You're a surprisingly well read young man. I would award Ravenclaw some points, but, considering that you have, in fact, broke curfew several nights in a row, I think we'll just call it even. I would even commend your dedication, not many eleven years old could pull through so many night with little to no sleep, Mirror of Erised or not."

"Uh, thank you sir, and... I didn't, I mean I've slept in the afternoon so I could stay awake at night." Ron answered meekly, his mind working on all the 'would' that the headmaster had just used. If he didn't know better, it did sound almost as if he was complimenting him.

Dumbledore nodded once, before looking foward again. They started walking up one of the many stairs they would need before reaching the Ravenclaw's Common Room. " A well thought out plan indeed." the old wizard commented. "I have found that the more I age, the less sleep I seem to need. So I am familiar with nigh time strolls, They haven't always been able to ease me into a mindset that helped drifting into sleep, but a hot cup of tea, with a spoon or three of honey, helped a lot." he glanced at Ron, an almost sheepish look on his face " I have a bit of a sweet tooth, you see."

The ravenclaw fought hard to not picture an Albus Dumbledore sneaking around the grounds at night in a fluffy pijamas, with a hot cup of tea and a honey jar. He really fought hard to keep that imagine from taking shape in his head, alas, some battles can't be won, and the weasley had to suppress a snort. Failing on that front too, he masked the sound with a very fake cough, that made Dumbledore chuckle along. "Another friend of mine has my same problem. The sleepless night, not the sweet tooth. And I would appreciate if you were to keep it to youreself, I don't need Poppy reprimanding me for giving bad example to our students. As I was saying, this friend of mine had my same problem, and we found out that sleeping came easier after a well played match of chess."

Ron perked up at that, his hazel eyes almost gleaming in the night. Dumbledore would hardly bring out this topic, unless he was offering to play a night game of chess with him. Him! Why would he? Ron asked himself, he could be ignorant of many things, even naive, but he most certainly he wasn't a mindless fool. "Are you... why? I mean, are you offering to play a game? with me? I mean, why?" he stammered. And he also hated turning into that stuttering mess when talking with the Albus Dumbledore.

"As I have said, it had been horribly callous of me, parading what you saw in the Mirror. Harry didn't seem to mind that much, but it got to you, and I'd prefer if one of my students wouldn't start holding a, forgive me, petty grudge over a stumble that I made without ill intentions." answered the headmaster.

Ronald frowned heavily at that, he wouldn't have called what he was feeling the start of a grudge, and most certainly he didn't think it would be petty! The old man was snooping around needlessly! Gathering himself, he answered to the powerful mage: "Are your apologies always this awkward?"

The old wizard arched an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling merrily: "Apologies? Oh, I see why you would see it like that, no, I fear that apologies are not what I'm talking about. However, we can talk about what happened, and go from there. Don't you agree?"

Ron wasn't a mindless fool, so he knew that the question wasn't something that could be answered with anything but an assent, and so nodded, recognizing tbat maybe he had crossed a line. Just a tiny bit.

"It's a very courious thing that the Mirror's Room was so far away from the Ravenclaw Common Room, and that the path that we are taking is so tortuous and void of prefects or professors patrolling. It looks like we'll have all the time necessary to cover in a satisfactory way all our topics." Dumbledore started, and Ron tried to believe that the headmaster had not been planning this conversation, but who was he kidding? He was the Albus Dumbledore, hailed as a prodigy since a young age,he shaped the last century of the Magical World. On the purely 'magic' aspect, he pushed the boundaries of alchemy with Flamel and he revolutionized how everyone approached Transfiguration. The less said of the seven hours long duel against Grindelwald,the better. Politically, he had been a titan since 1945. Ron had only heard stories about how he was as a person, and those came from rare comments made by his parents, mostly from his dad when he got a bit tipsy, so he never saw Dumbledore as the greatest thing since sliced bread. But now the words 'greatest wizard alive' assumed a whole new meaning. Ron was smart, not Hermione-smart, which was impossible and should be illegal by the way, nor the twins-smart. But he was still one of the sharpest tools in the shed, as the muggles would say. Talking with Dumbledore was... humbling. And only then Ronald realized that anything short of a new Dark Lord, nothing would ever qualify over the 'squabble' mark in the headmaster's mind.

"Let's start with the outraged demands that some of your peers made: why would they wish to expel from the Chess Club a first year that lost a single match after weeks of victories?"

Ron cringed at the memory: "I lost on purpose the last match to... ehm... win some galleons from the betting pool."

Dumbledore simply blinked at him, giving an encouraging nod.

"Uh... so, I joined the club back in september, and I've never lost, so after the first month it has been imposdible to make any money from the betting pool, I had to start playing without a rook, or sometimes without a bishop and a knight, only to even the game, and even then peoplejust stopped betting on my games, since everyone betted on me. But I had already won two galleons. And I needed to reach seven, so ... a friend... helped me." Ronald started looking anywhere but at Dumbledore, feinging that the esitation just before he choose to not give the name of the person that helped him never happened. The headmasters eyes were twinkling at full tilt then, not only because it was obvious that this friend had been nobody but Harry Potter himself, but also because his name had appeared on the expulsion request Albus received, listing him as an accomplice.

"Loyalty is an admirable trait to possess, but you should work on your... ah, dissimulating ability. It is, forgive me,how do you young people say it in these days.. oh yes, Lame. But please, go on." Commented Dumbledore, amused.

"Ok so... this person, asked to join the club, but that wanted to be sure to not waste his... time. Or hers, this person could be a she after all. So he... or she, played around a bit losing almost every time, then this person started betting and lost a total of three galleons, and then she... or he, went against me, asking me to use all my pieces because he didn't want to be coddled. And betted to galleons on himself, or herself, to win. By that point everyone had some pocket change to spare, but I placed my own two galleons on myself. So... I don't know how it ended up there, but in the end there were a total of fifteen galleons on me winning. And the only one to bet against me had been my adversary, so... I kinda of... lost on purpose? Then we split the money evenly. This person lost three galleons and went away with seven and I ended up having eight galleons." Ron explained.

At this point Albus was sure that Harry was truly flourishing in Slytherin, Severus would get a kick out of it, he couldn't wait to tell him. Even James would have been proud. He turned his attention on the young ravencalw, that at that point was almost ranting: "But I still say that they can't prove that I've rigged the match, I mean, everyone can have a bad day."

"Betting is frowned upon, but ultimately, not against the rules. You can't bet what you do not rightfully possess, and as long as underage wizards and witches bet between themselves, it rarely raises concerns. If there were an adult betting, now that person could be tried for attempting to trick children, debts are powerful things after all." Dumbledore said. "Betting is a very dangerous thing, and as such, very frowned upon. But I am, at the end of the line, a teacher, and I think this episode thaught everyone a lesson. So while I reprimand you and mr. Potter for tricking your fellow students, I can't punish you for that. Now, I believe that the older students lost most of their pocket change, and that in a fit of rage thay wrote me demanding your expulsion from the club."

Ron managed to wait for almost thirty seconds of silence before blurting out: "So am I being thrown out from the Chess Club?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely: "No I don't believe so. But the real question is, do you wish to go back there? It hardly sounds like something you would enjoy. Not very challenging I'd say."

Ron mulled over it for a while. "I don't really care, to be honest, but I still don't like the idea that they can just throw me out for losing a bet."

The headmaster gave him a knowing look, before talking again: "It's more the fact that you tricked them, than their losing money, I think. And probably your showing off playing without some of your pieces looked like disrespect after the first week. After all, at chess, and in similar competitions, mercy is an insult towards your opponent. And your actions have been seen as patronizing, rigging the bet has only been the excuse they've used."

After a while, the Headmaster broke the silence thay had fallen into. "To sum it up, I won't expel you from the Chess Club, but you are kindly suggested to not go back there. Now, on a completely unrelated topic. The mind arts are a dangerous branch of magic, and if I were to know that one of my students was in possess of a way to learn said topic, I would be required to inform the DMLE. For the safety of said student, of course." the irony poured in the last sentence made clear that the real reason was another.

"But if... I mean, why would the book be in the Restricted Section if..." Ron was silenced by the stern glare the headmaster threw at him.

"Which book are you talking about?" he asked, and something in the pose the ancient wizard assumed told the ravenclaw that Dumbledore placed the book where Harry would find it.

Crafty old goat! realized Ron.

"Indeed." commented Albus.

The ravenclaw noticed that such a comment was far too in line with his thoughts, almost as if...

Ron shot the old warlock an outraged look, immediately looking everywhere but in those twinkling eyes. Like he read in the chapter that described the use of legimency, eye contact was the easiest way to 'test the surface'.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, aren't you a paranoid young wizard. Now, Alastor would like that."

"Alastor... As in Alastor Moody, sir? The Auror?" asked the ravenclaw, choosing to change topic. Whatever that mention of the mind arts meant, he would find out with the due calm, another day. The eccentric wizard clearly didn't want him to mention said book.

The headmaster smiled at him. "I've already said before, however, that at the very core, I am a teacher. And if a students was careful, and worked without ill intent, I would let him explore freely his limits. Knowlegde is power, you know that, it's true even for muggles. For wizards however, it's a tangible thing. True knowledge, for those us that not merely practice with, but are their own magic, is born from understanding. But while it's our will that directs our magic, it's our mind that shapes it. The Mind Arts, occlumency in particular, are a path that leads to knowledge of the self. And self understanding is one of the most intriguing, difficult, maddening quest one can set himself upon." By then they had reached the stone raven head that marked the entrance to Ravenclaw's common room. Like always, the bird came to life and asked:

"To rise and fall,

I'm the slowest of all.

My head scratches the sky,

clouds pat me on the shoulder when they pass by.

My roots run deep and are never ending,

while ice and water my skin keep scarring.

Who am I?"

Ronald glanced at Dumbledore who was staring at him, clearly waiting for him to give the answer. So he thought about it for a minute or two, it wasn' t a very difficult one. "A mountain."

The door opened and let them in. Dumbledore walked over a comfy armchairs near one of the fireplaces, before pointing his finger toward the cooling embers. Immadiately, a warm fire blossomed out of nowhere, with merrily dancing flames casting changing shadows in the previously dim lit room. "Fetch us a board, will you?" the ancient wizard asked.

Ron was gobsmacked by the casual display of something that he had only heard stories about. Wandless magic was not something wizards or witches should be capable of. Period.

He obeyed, almost running to cross the room to set the chessboard. He was so out of it that the headmaster had to cough discretely twice, to gain his attention: he raised toward the ravenclaw his two closed hands, Ron tapped the left one, white. Dumbledore opened his right hand, showing that he was holding a black pawn in it. It wouldn't do having the student accusing the ancient wizard of rigging the game after all.

There is not a kind way to describe what followed. Ronald was trunced.

He could say that his head wasn't really in the game, or that Dumbledore was a scary opponent, or that he was tired. There where a lot of excuses he could use. But the point was that he had played... awfully. His plans to capture his pieces were half assed and bad thought, his fear to lose the queen had cost him two rooks. Really, no excuse could justify that. Not to his eyes, he knew his worth at chess, and that match had been ... pityful. Dumbledore stayed true to his word, showing that he honestly believed mercy on the board to be an insult.

"I... I'm sorry sir, usually I'm much better than this." Ron started,only to be interrupted by the headmaster with a kind gesture.

"You lost when you saw me lit the fireplace wandlessly. I would have been surprised if you had managed to keep your cool. But yes, this has not been a good game."

Ron stared at the much older wizard. "You did that on purpose!" he almost shouted. Controlling himself only because he remembered it was night, and the fifth and seventh years that stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays to study would have murdered him for waking them. Dumbledore stared right back at him, clearly unruffled by his outraged expression. "Why would I do that?" the ancient wizard asked, almost sardonic with his twinkling eyes.

Ron almost started ranting right there when he suddenly stopped. Frowning, he closed his mouth with an audible clack of theeth.

Okay, why would he mock me? Oh, I'm missing something. Let's see what I know: he somehow probably planned this whole night. And that is scary. He is the Albus Dumbledore. And that is... well that's scary too. But tonight he's been... Then it hit him. Teaching. He also had said that, at his core he was a teacher.

"I'm guessing that there's a lesson hidden somewhere in what happened just now, isn't there?" Asked tiredly the ravenclaw.

Dumbledore's answer was setting the board. After a good half an hour, Ronald knew that he was going to lose. But like hell he would topple his own king.

So they played, and at the turning of the hour, Ron recognized that he would lose the game in five moves, and finally gave up.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Now, this, this has been a good game. Even if you still play using only your pieces."

Ron groaned, too tired to divine a deeper meaning in the headmaster words. He started sliding lower in his armchair. "But I still lost." he whined.

The headmaster gave an amused chuckle at that reaction. "My boy, the point has never been winning. The point is playing a good game." raising from the armchair he added: "Why would I wish to win anything but a good game?"

The day after Ron was a bit sluggish from his messed up awake-asleep cycle. But he only had to soldier on, and once he reached evening, he could sleep for twelwe hours straight and find again some kind of balance between day and night.

Terry went home for the holidays,so he had the room all for himself. As soon as he rose from his bed, he oraginzed the chessboard he kept on his desk, moving the pieces until the game was a perfect copy of the critical point of the second match between Dumbledore and himself.

He knew that he had messed up somewhere. But for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. And 'you still play using only your pieces' was a oblique suggestion if he ever heard one. The ancient wizard planning ability was scary. And not only at chess: during the last night, not a single Ravenclaw Prefect had patrol duties, so nobody interrupted the chess match between him and Dumbledore. The young rRavenclaw had no doubt that it hadn't been so by chance.

He glanced at the tome he nicked, apparently with Dumbledore's blessing, from the Restricted Section.

No, That Dumbledore found a way for Harry to take. Ron corrected himself.

Harry's cloak of invisibility was the coolest thing he'd ever seen, well after the Mirror of the Erised. And Dumbledore wandlessly summoning fire. Ok the Cloak was among the top three. But McGonagall turning into a cat and back to human was awesome too...

Ok the Cloack is among the coolest things I've ever seen. He decided, makng his way down the Ravenclaw tower.

He reached the Great Hall and joined Harry, that was sitting on the end of the only table that was laden with food. With so few students left, it seemed a waste use more than one table. At Christmas they even ate together with the professors!

"Hey mate." the ravenclaw greeted the bespectacled wizard.

"Ron! I'm sorry, I didn't want to put you in trouble. What happened after I left?" fretted Harry, dropping the toast he was about to bite.

"Uh, it's okay mate, I'm not in trouble... We... ehm. He talked a bit, and then we played chess." The ravenclaw explained, busy filling his plate.

Harry looked at him flabbergasted:" You... what? How?"

Ron snorted into his plate, throwing crumbles everywhere. "I have no idea, myself."

"No way, now you have to tell me!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron looked around, there were few students scattered along the table, nobody near enough to overhear. "Well, we just walked to ravenclaw tower, and the book on the mind arts is super secret. So, don't tell anybody, and I mean it. I'm not expelled from the Chess Club, but I won't go back there, since I'm unwelcome. But that's alright, since I actually was bored there. And we played a game, he trounced me. But listen, he lit the fire in the common room wandlessly!"

Harry blinked a couple of times, digesting the flow of informations. "Oh, ok, so everything turned out... wait a minute isn't wandless thing supposed to be impossible? Oh and I wanted to ask, what is a Centennial Wizard?"

"Yes! I mean, no. It's about familiarity, but it requires years to learn a single spell, and it's not something anyone can do. I think Bill manages to make a coin drop on a face he chooses, he used the trick to win some random bets. But I'm not sure it's actually wandless magic. And a centennial wizard is... well the wizard that defined a century, politically and magically." answered Ron.

"Well it makes sense, even if it is difficult, he's Dumbledore. Hey! What if we learn how to do wandless magic?"

"Harry, that's not really the same as learning how to fly..." objected the ravenclaw.

The slytherin's eyes gleamed, and Ron knew he had made a mistake. "Well since it's impossible, we have nothing else to research, and our homework is done, we can explore the castle!"

The redhead let his forehead slam against the table, not caring about the crumble nestling in his hair. "Fine." he groaned "But we'll stay away from the bloody cerberus. I've had nightmares for days."

"We will see where our path leads us!" retorted flippantly the raven haired kid.

"How are you a Slytherin?" asked Ron for what it felt like the tousandth time.

Harry simply laughed, enjoying the dismay of his friend.

1992-15 april

Ron stormed in his room, he was almost furious. No he was frustrated, irked, annoyed. Even Hateful.

After the first chapter of The Mind Arts, he had been tempted to burn the horrible tome just for existing and taunting him for his own stupidity. It had been ridiculously complex, and he had understood almost nothing from the text. Only morbid curiosity had tempted him that night into giving the next chapter a chance. It had been equally bad, and he had regretted ever opening the book when, literally on the last page of the second chapter, he had felt something take root in the back of his head. The chapter had been an introduction into the relation between magic and mind. Ron hadn't understood what Vega Black, the tome's author, had wanted to tell her readers. Why even include a chapter about something like that?

Smart wizards and witches were more capable. There. One sentence, and everything that mattered and was true, right? Even if Dumbledore had hinted at 'understanding' during their talk, back in january.

Well, no, apparently not. Instead, she had written extensively about P-lines and J-peaks, Lyra-intersections and Ron actually believed that she had made up the last one only to give something the name of the constellation which Vega belonged to. And why would she need to do that? Utter crap, the whole book.

Ron liked the human brain, he was deeply fashinated by how it worked. It had been so since he had first read about nightmares. In which felt like another life.

Mind magic meant brain. Or, magic that worked in the brain, directed by the brain. Or better yet, directed by one's will, and shaped by his mind, like Dumbledore said. Even if there wasn't a single mention of spells of any kind, at least nothing that Ron managed to see while skimming through it.

At some point, he couldn't tell exactly when, a strange feeling had risen in him while reading the last page. There had been... something important buried within all these paragraphs. Vega Black had written about categorizing magical people according to the outlined characteristics. Those outlined characteristics sounded like they were the interpretation of P-lines and J-peaks, Lyra-intersections. These confusing terms, if Ron were to guess, were details of graphs one could probably draw after casting specific diagnostic charms. Why couldn't wizards wake up and find a way to replicate the muggles' MRI?

Ron could not cast those charms for several reasons, not only he didn't know them, but he wouldn't cast anything on his own brain, no matter the possible gain.

Without an actual understanding of the... p-stuff, j-thing and Vega-whatever, it was impossible to follow her complex theories, but he still had the impression that there had been fundamental aspect of the Mind Arts, or perhaps magic as a whole, hidden within the elaborated explanations.

Each mind is unique, Ron already knew it, since, well... every single human is different. People grow and learn. But they do not grow in the same way, nor do they learn the same lessons. It was obvious, not mind shattering... and yet, maybe there was something... more.

So different minds had different intersections and peaks and loops and lines, dots, angles and whatnot?

Suddenly, as if hit by a punch, he had made the connection, had grasped the meaning of Vega Black's explanations. He had understood what she had meant with the peaks and lines and all of those stupid names. Why hadn't he seen it before? He hadn't had a clear understanding of the implications.

But it then clicked. Different brain, meant different mind. And the trick was, that a different mind meant a different way to think magic. So a different way through which someone made magic too.

And if he were to believe what Dumbledore had said, each individual was different. The headmaster had said it clearly: 'True knowledge, for those us that not merely practice with, but are their own magic, is born from understanding. But while it's our will that directs our magic, it's our mind that shapes it.'

It made perfect sense, now that he thought about it. He had his breakthrough. All came down to personalities, he realized, his mind still slightly sluggish. Why should he care what others called it? Lines and dots, peaks and squares, it didn't matter. Magic and the mind, or the personality, to be precise, were linked. Of course they were, hadn't he wondered why Harry would learn the spells so fast once Ronald explained them, and became almost incompetent when it came to learning from books? Why Hermione preferred to read about a spell in silence, and seemed unable to explain it in her own words?

If the character of a witch or wizard made them more or less adapt at learning in a certain way, maybe it made people more talented towards certain kinds of magic.

After all, Flitwick was a dueling and charms master, and probably, despite being so clearly extraordinary in his chosen fields, he probably knew less stuff about transfiguration than McGonagall.

That explained perfectly why Vega Black had wasted four chapters on it, if the character influenced the magic of someone, said influence might just be stronger when applied to the mind arts. Then of course the first step in learning them had to be the classification of the student's mind. That explained why there were so many different approaches listed in the book. Even if for some unknown reason, Ron didn't seem able to recall them.

He let out a sigh, satisfied. His head was pounding from the sheer weight of the sudden revelation.

"She could have made it easier. Every mind is different, so everyone uses magic in a more or less different way, and occlumency has to be unique for each individual, even if the characteristics that identify each mind, qualify it under a limited number of categories." grumbled, letting his head sink in the soft pillow. "There. Less than fifty words."

The book seemed to have a set of questions to help someone understand which kind of mind he had, and there were paths to learn occlumency suited for each category. Before he could ask himself if he should get started on it, he fell asleep, still in his school robes.

"Hey Ron." Harry greeted him.

The ravencalw kept resolutely his nose buried in the library's copy of Tales from the Stars, a collection of myths born from the constellations. The muggles were surprisingly on par with the knowledge of mythology. But then, the stories were born before the Statute, so it made sense. He had known each of the legends already, but it was useful, since he was busy translating those from the Ancient Greek they were written into.

It's a pity there aren't spells to teach someone a new language. He thought tiredly. But then, while challenging, learning new languages was something that appeased his analythical mind.

It's like a chess coundrum. He decided. The way each word just clicked with its context gave him the same feeling of realization he recieved from a well played exchange on the chessboard.

"I'm not smuggling any dragon from the castle." he answered curtly. "I have already put you in contact with Charlie. It's no longer my business." He added when his slytherin friend was about to insist.

"And no, I'm not going close to the cerberus either. In the greek mythology a cerberus guards the inferi, or afterlife. So I'm not intrested in whatever there is under the trapdoor.

"You're no fun!" desisted Harry. "But what if there is something important?" he asked.

"Then Dumbledore will do something about it. Or even more likely, the headmaster has everything under control. Since he was the one to place both the giant dog and whatever else on the Third Floor Corridor." continued Ron in a flat tone. "Why don't you take Zabini with you? Or Hermione for what matters. The first is crazy enough the second... Well she's worse, but at least she has a brain."

Harry gasped, in a mocking outraged fashion: "Why would I change my Adventures Mate so close to the end of the year? And Blaise has a brain!"

"I resent that Title. And because the last time we got caught Snape had me scrub cauldrons for a month, without you, I might add. Sorry about Zabini, I meant having a brain and using it." the ravenclaw replied, keeping an even tone.

"Eh, Slytherins cover for each other. But Snape gave me a proper scolding in the common room, I already told you that. Stop bringimg up the past. Live in the present!"

"Whom did this come from? No, don't tell me. Davies." Ron finally rose from his book, when Harry got started, it was impossible to focus. However, he managed to distract him from the 'smuggling dragons project' and so he was happy to stop learning greek to banter. Banter with Harry was fun, and most of the time managed to distract him.

Bantering is likely the only normal interaction he had with others in Slytherin. Thought Ron, Only, he has to look less enthusiast about... everything, in there. While Ron shivered at the thought of being sorted in the House of emerald and silver. He may no longer think Slytherin only produced dark wizards, but while he had grown to appreciate 'being left alone when you want' quality of Ravenclaw, from what Harry told him, there was some sort of hierarcy in the bespectacled wizard's House.

"C'mon, help us with the dragon."

Shit! he remebmered. Ron realized with a groan.

"Fine." he was already regretting it. But saying no to your best mate was difficult at best and impossible otherwise.

Ron would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say goodbye to Norbert if he hadn't almost lost two fingers when the baby dragon choose him as new chew toy. "Fucking dragons." He half grumbled, half whispered. A disgusted gasp made him cringe: Hermione heard him.

"Ron! Language!" the witch hissed.

Harry helpfully snorted, and the ravenclaw mouthed a half hearted apology.

It was a very dark, cloudy night and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the Entrance Hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate. "He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely." From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded as though teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as the ravenclaw, slytherin, and griffindor first years covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mummy will never forget you!" Hagrid cried.

"You all do realize that our feet are clearly visible yes?" Ron complained.

"It's dark, nobody will notice our feet." Harry whispered, "Let's just focus on keeping the levitation charm up ok? I'm not eager to lift that crate with my bare hands."

"And I've cast a notice-me-not on them as well. It's not perfect, but it should help, and it's not like we have another option." Hermione added.

"Two things. One, you're scary brilliant." answered Ron. In the dark, the light blush that covered the witch's cheeks went unnoticed.

"And two, can you teach us?" completed Harry.

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up themarble staircase in the Entrance Hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another, even one of Harry's short cuts didn't make the work much easier.

"How come you two know this area the castle better than me?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Ron looked at each other under the cloak, before not commitedly replying "Exploring." If the chorused answer made the witch suspicious, she didn't voice it.

"We should be fine, unless the professors know everything and are waiting to ambush us along with the someone from the Ministry on the top of the tower, so they can catch both Charlie's friends and us." Ron thoughtfully pointed out.

"It's a posdibility, but... why should they know anything?" Hermione reasoned.

"Well, Harry do you have by any chanche left around the letters in which you organized this smuggling?" Ron asked.

The slytherin snorted. "What am I? A gryffindor?"

"Hey!" Hermione hissed.

"Sorry Hermione." Harry said, while Ron held back a laugh.

"I thought slytherins were the paranoid ones. What made you think about..." but the ravenclaw put hands on their mouths, forcing them to shut up and straining to keep up the levitation charm on the crate.

A sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop both the notice-me-not and the levitation charm. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A wand flared into an unmistakable lumos.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan dressing gown and a hairnet, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you..."

"You don't understand, Professor, Harry Potter's coming! He's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come. I shall see Professor Snape about you, mr. Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the Cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate.

"Whatever they do to punish him, it' ll be nothing against what the rest of the House will do." Harry gleeflully told them.

Ron nodded thoughtfully, but at the confused face Hermione pulled, the slythetin explained. "Nobody likes a tattle tale, Hermione. But in slytherin it's like... the golden rule. Another is 'don't get caught'. Malfoy made a mess of both. But it also means that he searched my things, And that, more than everything, is a mistake he won't repeat."

About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed the students the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then the three students shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

"You must be Ron! Charlie didn't tell me you were a Ravenclaw! I thought you would be a Gryffindor like you brothers!"

At that Ron smile became somewhat fixed on his face. Harry, noticing the sudden tension in his friend, took over, saying the appropriate thanks and goodbyes.

At last, Norbert was going... going...gone. They slipped the cloak back on, and walked down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them.

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, they almost ran straight into Filch, but thankfully he passed them without stopping. Muttering sweet things to his cat.

Thay first walked Hermione back to the Gryffindor Common room, well near it, since the witch refused to show them the way. "Uh, I forgot it was a secret." commented Ron, while Harry assured her that this time he wouldn't keep following her to the entrance.

They walked towards the ravenclaw tower, dead on their feet.

"Are you sure you can make it back?" Ron asked him. Ravenclaw is the highest tower, and the dungeons are pretty far from there." Ron whispered.

"It's okay. After all it was my idea." replied the slytherin, and they kept walking in a tired, but companionable silence.

"Hey Ron" said Harry after a while "Does your family now you're a Ravenclaw?"

The minute tensing and slowing down of his friend were a clear answer.

"I don't want to talk about it." Ron replied. "The twins and Percy know. Probably My perfect prefect brother wrote it to my parents, I wouldn't know. My Christmas jumper was dark brown with a golden R, so I couldn't tell, they've always been my colors, even if I hate them." He closed his mouth with a snap, realizing that he had, in fact, started talking about it.

Harry respected his clear wish for silence, and kept walking silently along his friend until they parted ways.

It had been a long night, but the topic they stubled upon with the careless comment of the dragon handler had filled Rom with a nervous energy. And his mind was not in the right state for studying. "Latin it is." he decided. Hoping that the logic of the dead tongue could help him focus on something else.

The raven door sounded a bit miffed by being woken up so late in the night, but provided the riddle without fail:

"What do you hold,

but never keep?

If you take your last,

make it deep."

Ron thought about it for a while. He had always had to answer riddles in the form of 'what am I?' and this was clearly a difference. Maybe the door made peculiar ridfles at peculiar times? But it wasn't like he never snuck around after curfew before.

"Breath?" he tentatively answered. And the door swung open. He quickly and silently reached his bedroom. Where he sat at his desk and summoned a golden light to hover over him. It was a nice and handy tweak of lumos. "At least Harry agreed that the cerberus is to be left alone." he whispered to himself.

He glanced at the closed curtains around Terry's bed, grateful for their existence. They were the only reason sneaking in and out of the room was so easy. He was glad that the library had a whole section dedicated to speeches. Even if he would have liked being able to read more recent works from time to time.

He soon found himself pouring over a speech written by Cicero, trying to forget his problems about his family in the concise and effective rethoric.