Betrayal -

Ron Weasley –

Ron walked through the corridors of Hogwarts School, feeling nauseous over the proposition Voldemort had given him. Handing Harry over to Voldemort felt like the wrong thing to do, scrap that. He knew it was the wrong thing to do. Harry had been his friend since the first day of the first year; it was ridiculous to act like this over such a simple sin, envy. The only reason that Ron had even felt this way in the first place was because he had believed that Harry was with Hermione, which he had soon discovered that she wasn't. It was Snape whom she had been playing around with. Even the thought of it made Ron shiver with repulsion. The idea of Snape's hands, over Hermione's body…

Ron physically shivered. He should stop torturing himself with these images but he didn't seem to be able to help it. The more that he didn't want to think about it, the more his brain plastered it all over his eyes. Maybe he needed some of that muggle stuff that made all the pain go away. All-hole or plant, was it?

He shook his head. He was not going to resort to muggle substances to solve his problems. He was going to have to face this by himself. Ron continued to wonder until he came to a large door. He pushed it open and walked outside. The cold and bitter air bit at his face, reflecting his inner feelings.

'Pathetic fallacy,' He thought to himself, shivering slightly at the cold air. He worked for a-quarter-of-an-hour when he saw a silhouette of a person sat on the grass about ten feet away from Hagrid's hut.

Ron, being his usual, overly-curious self, walked over to the shadowed figure. Once he had come level with them, he could see that it was Harry, clutching his scar.

"Ron, I can feel it. He's here Ron! Voldemort is here!" He said in short, sharp breaths.

Ron gritted his teeth. "He isn't here but I can make him come here, if you wish." He added the last words with a sly undertone.

"What are you talking about Ron?" Harry blurted, his hand still clutching his scar.

Ron raised his wand into the air, not yet shooting the sparks, teasing him. "I can summon the Dark Lord, right here, right now, with a few simple sparks from the end of my wand."

Harry gulped, still clutching his forehead and now moving his other hand to hold his mouth, almost like he was going to be sick.

"Do you not believe me, Harry?" He asked, trying his best to mimic the mean tone that Draco Malfoy could do oh-so-well. Doing this hurt Ron somewhere deep inside, in his heart. Did he really want to do this to his best friend? It hadn't even been him with Hermione, so he had no reason to be jealous or get revenge anymore.

"Ron, stop talking like this. He is here. I can feel him." He gasped, now almost rocking back and forth with the pain.

Ron swallowed hard. "Talk like what, Potter?" He circled Harry, keeping his wand pointed to the skies. "Are you saying that I sound crazy?" He taunted, now pointing his wand at Harry's temple.

Harry made a noise that sounded slightly strangulated, just opening his mouth and then closing it again.

"Where have you been going at night?" Ron pushed, poking the wand at Harry's cheek.

"I…" Harry screamed, clutching his head in agony.

"Tell me where you have been going!" Ron bellowed with more power than he had expected he could muster, lifting his wand into the sky.

"I've been..." Harry cried out again.

Ron was getting angry and before he could focus his anger to ask the question again, his wand erupted with red sparks.

A whirl of black smoke formed at Ron's side and a bald, pure white creature of evil stood next to him. "Hello, Harry. We meet again." Voldemort chuckled.