Title: True Serpent
Summary: Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?
Disclaimer: I own the plot
A/N: Short chapter, sorry, I am depressed
A/N: Ron's POV
I'm tangled up in you...
Personal belongings were scattered across the floor as I was led into a room very few prisoners ever saw. I was ordered to grab mine, or pick whatever I liked since most people never needed their belongings anymore anyway. The walls were grey, paint having been applied in a messy way. I wondered whether the Dementors themselves had painted those walls. They had a thing for grey. Dark, depressing, never-going-to-see-the-sun-again-grey. Which is exactly how I had felt up until a few hours ago. I still couldn't believe that I was here, that I was going to leave this hellhole. I felt like shouting, like jumping up and down and doing something to get rid of this explosive burn in my chest. I wanted to smile. Wanted to cry.
Suddenly I saw it, partially hidden by a green and silver cloak. My wand. The thing I had cursed all those nights that I was lying on the ground, with nothing but a grey blanket to soothe me. The thing that had betrayed me. Somehow, even though I realised, or knew, that I had killed my best friend, I still didn't understand exactly what had happened. Or why I had suddenly been un-Imperiused, if that was truly the case. I had wondered, all those days. All those damned days that I spent watching those few rays of sun that danced across my cell. I thought of her, of why I became myself again as she had wrapped her arms around me. I thought of my family, of what they would think of me. What they would do when I saw them again. Would I see them again? Would they want to, now that I was going to get out? They had never visited me here, and I was fairly certain that Percy didn't share my fate with them. They had abandoned me, and I deserved it. What had changed this time? Did an Imperius curse make me innocent?
I took the wand up gingerly, feeling a calm overcome me as soon as the cold wood touched the palm of my hand.
At least now I have a chance, I thought, a chance of finding out what happened, who had done this to me, to us, because I couldn't believe that I had truly killed Harry because of me. He had been my best mate, the only person I had tried to confide in. When he caught up with me that day, I was determined to tell him. I needed to tell someone about those blackouts, and I couldn't tell anyone else. Ginny'd freak, thinking Voldemort or someone else would have control over me. She'd insist on telling mum, and I'd never leave the Burrow again. Hermione would react the same way. I couldn't tell the person I loved anyway. I wanted her to think of me as someone who could handle himself, and that was hard enough as it was. I wasn't strong, or brave like Harry. I wasn't smart like Hermione or witty and creative like so many others we hung out with in school. I was me, clumsy, light-headed Ron, ever the stupid sidekick. I knew that Harry would understand. I hoped that he would anyway. It had taken me weeks of debating with myself, of wondering why Harry shouldn't react the same way as I expected Hermione and Ginny to.
I had wanted to tell him. I really had. Even today I don't know exactly what had happened during that blackout. I'm not sure I want to know, really. It's hard enough as it is. But at least now I have a chance, a way to fix things, to make sure that Voldemort doesn't win the war because of me. I don't want to be responsible for another darkness. The darkness inside of me is hard enough to bear.
I need to find a way to fix everything, to make things right again with everybody. I need to avenge Harry and become not only a murderer by name but a murderer by heart.
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