Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, but I cannot declare with complete certainty that I am not Harry Potter.

A/N: How's this for quick? Two days, baby! (What can I say? I was super motivated.)

Thank you, thank you, thank you (!!!) to all the amazing people who left lovely reviews (23 for the first chapter, eee!), Alerted, and/or Favorited this fic; you guys made my day ;)

Important information about the format: the chapters will often be split between a 'Lesson' and an educational/relevant vignette (from Ron's perspective, of course), the reason for this explanation will become apparent about halfway down.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

[This chapter was revamped on February 16, 2010]

Lesson One: You Will Most Likely End Up Risking Your Life Alarmingly Often

Before I get into the nub and gist of the matter, I feel the need to address a common misconception amongst sidekicks-in-training (as well as virtually any guy between the ages of eleven and seventeen). With basically any job or activity that comes with potential health hazards, a disclaimer (in addition to a regrettable load of paperwork) is often involved in the mix. That is true (just in case any of you took that to be the misconception; don't worry, I'm getting to that bit). For this reason, I'm going to give you all forewarning, so when you somersault off a cliff or try to charm your nose hairs green or anything else incredibly unintelligent, I'll not be the one held responsible for your distressing lack of common sense, for you will have been adequately warned.

Disclaimer: Remember kids - an invincibility complex never did anybody any good. Nobody's immortal, not even Voldemort (though he came pretty damn close, let me tell you.)

Short, catchy, and to the point. Remember it.

It will soon become apparent (if it's not already) that there are many risks involved with being a sidekick. The greatest one, as you may already know, is the whole 'potentially deadly' aspect of the equation; it comes with the job and is irritatingly unavoidable. Of course, the worst possible outcome is death, which is very often fatal. 'How fatal?' you might ask. Very fatal. Some aspiring accomplices of virtue, however, seem to linger under the illusion that this does not apply to them.

Newsflash: it does.

That may be a bit difficult to hear (I wouldn't know, no one ever bothered to give me a warning when I started... not that I'm bitter), so pause for a mo', breathe deeply, and get me a sandwich.

Oh – er, sorry, not that last one (well, unless you really want to. I mean, I won't stop you or anything.)

Assuming you now feel better and have a more open-minded perspective of the universe, I'm going to move on to the actually useful bit of this chapter: the rest of it.

Unfortunately, saving the world is not as easy as, say, buying a fish. You can't simply prance over and say, 'Hey, evil bastard! Yes, you. Would it bother you terribly to stop being, well, evil? That would be absolutely marvelous of you, can't thank you enough. Cheers!' and go on your merry way.

Instead, you've got to do the whole deal: uncovering suspicious plots, fearing for your life, going places you'd really rather not be going to (I've done this far too often), and fighting cronies and the like. All this, and you're not even being paid (some might call that altruistic, I call it pretty effing unfair).

Hence, when you're best mates with a savior-of-everyone-and-their-mother, you tend to inexplicably end up in dangerous situations. It's just one of those things – like how Hermione has an abnormal addiction to books, or how Ginny likes her toast with marmalade. However, to maintain ideal amounts of safety and limbs, you should know what a dangerous situations is and how to classify one if you see one.

How to Identify a Dangerous Situation (for amateurs):

Dangerous Situation (noun, though Harry makes it look like a verb) – an occasion when your, your mates' and/or your loved ones' skins may need saving; where mental and bodily injury is a high possibility: It became very apparent to Ron that the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament were dangerous situations, and that he really wasn't much jealous of Harry after all.

Synonyms: drowning, being surrounded by dark wizards/spiders/Lavender Brown, training your new pet hamster (apparently), a battle of some sort, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, basically every other bloody day. Antonyms: fluffy bunnies, éclairs, Christmas (I don't recall Christmas being too jolly for Hermione and I last year... You're ruining my thesaurus. Please stop.)

All right, I think you've got the general picture.

How to Tell If You're in a 'Dangerous Situation':

(1) Someone is firing a spell at you, and you suspect they're not doing it with nice intentions

(2) It suddenly occurs to you that the number of people in the room who want you alive is a very minor one (namely, you)

(3) You get that This wasn't such a brilliant idea, was it? twinge in your gut

(4) Death Eaters are chasing/attacking/mocking you (e.g. in the Hall of Prophecy)

Practice Question (Evaluate the Situation): You (your leg broken), an escaped convict, a werewolf, an unconscious teacher, and an angry Harry Potter all walk/are dragged into the Shrieking Shack (Yes, I'm aware that sounds like the lead-in to a joke, but the punch line's not all that funny: It was the man everyone had thought dead and who had spent the last twelve years posing as a pet rat the whole time!).

Is this a Dangerous Situation?

a) Yes

b) No

c) I like pancakes

Answer: 'a' and 'c' are correct.

If you're at all squeamish at the thought or sight of blood, gore, or pain, I have some golden words of wisdom for you: Suck It Up. There will be a lot more of that coming, so there's no use in making a fuss about it (unless, naturally, doing so turns a situation to your advantage; like milking it with the girl you fancy, for instance…not that I've done that or anything…only a sixth year would do something like— I'm going to stop now).

To illustrate this point (not the one on milking it for all it's worth, I think Hermione might have seen that and I like my head where it is, thanks), I'm going to give you a real-life example of a dangerous situation and coping with pain.

Not the sort of 'my sorry excuse for a best mate just prodded me with their wand' pain, nor the 'slowly being flogged to death with a woolen jumper' feeling not uncommonly felt during OWL revision sessions, or even the torture of Post-Traumatic Girlfriend Disorder (I still have flashbacks... shudders), but the 'a thousand cutlery knives are jabbing sensitive areas of my body repeatedly' sort of agony.

In my fifth year, during the now rather famous battle at the Department of Mysteries, a Death Eater put a curse on me that made my brain all wonky (How could you tell the difference—? Piss off, Harry). In my altered state of mind, Summoning a ton of brains (which were being conveniently stored in a nearby vat) seemed, in my barmy opinion, to be a smashing idea. What can I say? They were enticingly squishy-looking.

Take it from me, you've never had déjà vu until you've forcibly experienced the memories of someone else (Don't I know it... Yes, Harry, and you can talk all you want about your experiences in your own ruddy book!).

I still have scars on my arms from where the brains grabbed me. Do I dwell on it? No. In fact, they make me look rather rugged and badass (...seriously, you lot can stop laughing now...). There's a silver lining to everything.

The moral of this story is: anticipate pain, get over it, and move on.

And also, erm, you know, don't use Accio on a vat of cerebral matter.

Ahem.

Also, you may not have a DA, but you should definitely be sharp on defensive spells, jinxes, hexes, and curses. Expect to need them. Always be prepared, as my mother says (granted, at the time she was talking of packing extra socks, but same difference really).

That being said, it's also quite useful to have your other best mate/love interest be a genius and have knowledge of healing spells and potions as well as the foresight to pack said potions and remedies.

...

Have I been forgiven yet?

NO.

...

Erm - and it should be mentioned that said best mate/love interest is stunningly pretty...?

Why thank you, Ron.

Ha ha, Harry. No.

STILL NOT WORKING.

Argh. Women…

Mid-Winter, 1996

Pig, being the sorry excuse for a bird he is, somehow managed to miss the usual delivery time at breakfast (how he didn't notice that he was the only one left in the Owlery is beyond me). Instead, his puny brain reckoned it would be a far more splendid idea to drop a letter on my head at nine o'clock in the bleeding evening, completely scaring the shit out of me.

It wasn't.

A splendid idea, I mean.

Anyway, it's Mum's latest letter, freshly approved by the Ministry Safety-Scanning Brigade (or whatever... I have no idea what they're actually called). I swear, she must've had her Pocket Witch's Guide to Maternal Paranoia (if there is such a thing), flipped open to the chapter on coddling, next to her when she wrote this. Nothing in here's new: she's worried about me; doesn't want me to get in any trouble (fat chance); wants to know if I need any more socks; and hopes I'm keeping up with my homework (a damn sight more difficult task now that Hermione's not speaking to me).

I can't really blame her, though. I think out of all of us – the kids, that is – Mum worries after me the most. I may not have as many detentions as Fred and George have under their belts, but I've gotten into heaps more trouble than all of us put together. Side effect of being best mates with Harry bloody Potter, I suppose. He's a bad influence on me.

I tell him this.

He chuckles, still bent over his half-finished Charms essay. "Am I?"

"Well, yeah." I stretch my arms over my head and lean back into the couch cushions (we managed to score the best ones by the fire). My Transfiguration homework – or at least, a piece of blank parchment with my name scribbled in the top right corner which'll at some point be my Transfiguration homework (I'm still putting it off with the hopes that it'll complete itself – call it scientific curiosity) – lies in front of me on the table. "I mean, all the evidence points against you. If I hadn't sat next to you on the train first year, I reckon I'd be leading a fairly normal life right now."

"If by 'normal' you mean 'boring', then yeah," he retorts, scratching out a feeble sentence. "'Sides, you brought it upon yourself, mate. You're the one who chose to sit in my compartment."

"Yeah, and that was bloody good planning on my part. How many times have you saved my family now?"

"You've just contradicted yourself." I choose to ignore that. "Hmm, when you put it like that, it sounds like I'm a rather good influence, wouldn't you say?"

"Hardly," I'm not willing to surrender my argument. It's been a while since I've had a good bicker now that Hermione's gone and… yeah. "Who knows what kind of person I'd have been… your average rule-abiding citizen, perhaps, or a member of the Gobstones Club, or even a star scholar – Merlin knows I've lost a lot of valuable revision time running about on various adventures." He snorts skeptically. I narrow my eyes at him (something that seems to have very little effect) and say, with a voice that I hope sounds threatening (or at the very least, somewhat ominous), "Just you watch. One of these days we're going to do something like get expelled or drop out, and it'll be all your fault."

Harry laughs (he doesn't do that enough). It's true, though. I mean, look what else has happened. A clear pattern has definitely been established (wake up, breakfast, trouble, classes, more trouble, quick lunch, trouble, revision, dinner, spot of bother with an authority figure - aka trouble - bed; lather, rinse, and repeat).

Blimey, it's strange having dramatic irony about myself. Cuts out a bit of the suspense, don't you think?

...

Wait, you can't really answer that, can you (without looking absolutely barmy talking to a book)?

Never mind, then.

Hmmm, well I hope that was just as enjoyable as the primary chapter - feel free to leave me any comments/questions/suggestions/random notions :)

This chap's petite anecdote isn't as humorous as those to come (though it's not too dreary either), but I felt that was necessary... well I like it :P

Oh, and if there are any musings on the wording, I think over the years some of Hermione's vocabulary was bound to seep into Ron's skull via verbal osmosis (whether he bothers to use it at all or correctly is debatable).

-Zooey Potter

This chapter has been edited and augmented for the purposes of my own sanity (with spelling and grammar) and your own enjoyment (with additions and expansions). Hopefully, the overall quality has also been boosted. Tell me what you think?