AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, you're probably thinking to yourself, "What the Hell, man? This was an update weekend, so where the Hell is the next Mirror, Mirror chapter?! Did that fuck-monkey flake on us, or what?" No, I didn't flake on you, and believe me, I'm well aware that this is an update weekend. However, March 23 is my friend Alana's birthday, and she asked me nicely to hold off on posting until her birthday as sort of a birthday present for her. So, if you're wondering why you had to wait an extra three days for Chapter 4 to get posted, you can all blame Alana (a.k.a. wow60); just remember, when you lay the blame on her, to wish her a happy birthday as well! To that end...HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Alana!
This chapter's title was taken from the song "Reflections Of", by Diana Ross and the Supremes. Anyone who's ever seen the very awesome Vietnam-period drama, "China Beach", will recognize the song as the opening theme song. Anyone wanting to check it out need only hit YouTube and type in "China Beach theme" into the search window. It's a good song, and it lends itself well to the mirror-theme of this particular story.
I'm about to go off-topic now, for a (hopefully) short rant. What the Hell is with the fanfic writers who have Harry, Ron, and Hermione (or any other good guy) casting Avada Kedavra in order to finish off Voldemort and/or his Death Eaters? I mean, was I the only one paying attention during Goblet of Fire? The Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing Curses are called The Unforgiveable Curses FOR A REASON. The usage of them is UNFORGIVEABLE and will earn you a one-way ticket to a lifetime sentence in Azkaban...do not pass Go, do not collect 200 galleons! So, for all you fic-writers out there who have written a scene where the Trio solve the Voldemort Problem by casting the worst of the Unforgiveables, I say thee nay!!! Knock that shit off!!!
Okay, now that I got that off my chest, we can get back to the matter at hand: Chapter 4. This is a long chapter...two or three times longer than my usual chapters, in fact. The length, however, is necessary, though, since in this chapter you'll start to see what life has been like for Mirror!Ron without having Mirror!Harry in Gryffindor. The next four chapters (4, 5, 6, and 7) will each cover one of the last four years of Mirror!Ron's life. If anything gets confusing, don't hesitate to ask questions.
GRATUITOUS THANKS: CutewithAcapital-Q, ObsessedRHShipper, kareem33, TiffanyM, MaNdErS20100, Alquimista, zsdvnn, allanfrontrow, Rosiline, Pattox0111, Avanell, HopelessRomantic79, Cantletharrygo, omega13a, dreAmer399, Supernatural Goddess, Trude, skippyboo, Bluerain22, David Fishwick, ClayCelloFire, 8thweasleykid, Jokegirl, dristi and Babasahin Ko are all my official bestest friends ever, since they took the time to review this here story! What are you waiting for? Review!! All the cool kids are doing it!! And remember...the first one is ALWAYS free!!
OBSEQUIOUS COWTOWING: CutewithAcapital-Q is my completely totally awesomely radical Beta Reader. As I'm writing this, it's like I've got a tiny little Cutie on my shoulder screaming in my ear anytime I make a stupid mistake. That's a joke...she doesn't scream at me...she's wonderful and pleasant and she just posted a new chapter in her TWILIGHT story Breaking Dawn Alternate Ending. So, if you're vampirically inclined, and you prefer bloodsuckers who sparkle in the sunlight instead of combust, go on over to her page and check out the story.
DISCLAIMER: This stuff all belongs to J.K. Rowling...at least until I've put the finishing touches on my time machine. Once I'm done, and I hit 88 miles per hour, I'm totally gonna snake HARRY POTTER out from under her!
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 4
"Through the Mirror of My Mind"
When his vision returned to normal, Ron found himself standing at the front of the Great Hall with a throng of other students. They all looked so young, and suddenly as he watched a blonde, pig-tailed girl he recognized as Hannah Abbott move to sit on a stool and have a manky old hat placed over her head – clear down past her eyes – Ron realized he was back in First Year again, watching the Sorting Ceremony take place once more.
"Bones, Susan…"
Ron started to zone out, lost in his thoughts. He hadn't known what to expect when Dumbledore had tapped him on the head with his wand, but being brought back to this moment in time hadn't even entered his mind as a remote possibility. He had stopped paying attention to the ceremony, so lost in his thoughts was he, until he heard a name which held great interest for him.
"Granger, Hermione…"
Ron was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Professor McGonagall announcing Hermione's name. Ron smiled inwardly and chuckled (although his eleven-year-old memory body just stood there, scowling slightly) as the bushy-haired little know-it-all nearly ran towards the stool and excitedly jammed the Sorting Hat down onto her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat announced loudly, and inside his mind, Ron found himself smiling with pride. The girl he knew certainly was every bit a Gryffindor.
Ron thought back to how he had wanted anything but to be sorted into the same House as Hermione Granger; how he had groaned (which his eleven-year-old memory-self did) when she had been placed in Gryffindor – the House he wanted to be in; the House his whole family had been in.
How different his life would have been…how different it would be now…if Hermione had been sorted into Ravenclaw. How empty his life would be without her in it. She was so important, so special to him…even if he could never tell her, since she obviously didn't feel even remotely the same about him; their argument at King's Cross was proof of that.
Even though nothing would ever come of it, at least Ron had her friendship.
Ron was frowning now – albeit, inside his own mind – and when a sudden thought hit him, he started to frown even deeper. This bushy-haired marvel in front of him wasn't his Hermione. This Hermione and this world's Ron…in this dimension they weren't friends. In fact, if their brief encounter in the common room was any indication, Hermione despised him here. He didn't know why she hated him so, but he was almost afraid to ask.
"Potter, Harry…"
Ron was drawn out of his thoughts again as Professor McGonagall now called Harry's name. He couldn't help but notice that every eye in the Great Hall was now focused on the puny-looking bespectacled boy, including those Professor Dumbledore. Every person in the room watched with interest as young Harry Potter nervously placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
The Sorting Hat, which at times – such as with Draco Malfoy – had barely been on a person's head before shouting out the name of House the student was to be sorted into, seemed to take the longest time trying to sort Harry. Finally, to the surprise of everyone, and the dismay of many, the Hat made its choice.
"SLYTHERIN!"
"NO!!" Ron tried to yell, but his voice only echoed inside his own mind. This was merely some sort of memory…similar to a dream or something…and Ron was not actually there. He couldn't speak or act…he was trapped inside the body of eleven-year-old memory Ron as the dead boy's memories unfolded before him.
The Slytherin table erupted in cheers and Ron could see young Draco Malfoy smirking with glee. The rest of the students in the Hall seemed stunned, including eleven-year-old Harry as he shuffled off towards his new House table. Ron and Harry locked eyes briefly before the black-haired boy moved off into the crowd at the cheering table; the boys emerald eyes were full of dread and despair.
Looking quickly up at the Head table where the instructors sat, Ron saw he wasn't the only one to react badly to Harry's sorting. Hagrid was beside himself, looking on the verge of tears. Ron did a double-take as he looked to Snape; this universe's version of Snape was sporting a greasy-looking goatee that just made him look more evil than before. Snape seemed confused by Harry's sorting, as if he were unsure if he should applaud or scowl…he settled for scowling while softly clapping. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked disappointed and slightly heartbroken.
And then there was Quirrell; Ron knew that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was secretly housing Voldemort's spirit -- like some sort of parasite -- and all the peril Harry had faced during his First Year was his doing. What Ron didn't know was why Quirrell was smiling so broadly as he watched Harry take a seat at the Slytherin table.
Ron's mind went black again before he could ponder that particular thought any further. The blackness lifted, revealing a new image…another memory; but if that previous memory seemed different to Ron, this new memory seemed completely alien.
Ron found himself in his very first Potions class on Friday of his first week at Hogwarts, but once again, it wasn't as he remembered it.
Potions was a double-class, and that not only meant the class was twice as long (a full hour instead of thirty minutes) it also meant it was a class they shared with the Slytherins. It was the first chance Ron would have to see Harry since the Sorting Ceremony.
Ron kept his eyes trained on the door and began smiling as he saw Harry enter the Potions dungeon, until he saw Harry's face and the large black-eye he sported. When he saw this, Ron jumped out of his chair and rushed to his friend's side.
"Bloody Hell, Harry…what happened to you?" Ron asked as he reached the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry cast a sheepish glance over towards the Slytherin side of the room where Malfoy sat smirking at him while his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, stood behind him cracking their knuckles.
"I walked into a door," Harry said softly, blushing as he did. He was obviously lying and appeared to be unable to look Ron in the eye, "It used to happen all the time at the Dursleys."
"You're lying," Ron said, exasperated.
Before Harry could respond, Professor Snape came swooping into the dungeon like some great sallow-faced, greasy-haired bat.
"Take your seats!" Snape snarled, the tip of his goatee quivering, as he made his way to the front of the class, "And Mr. Potter, do try not to walk into anything between here and your desk."
The Slytherins – especially Malfoy and his cronies – broke out into laughter at the Potions master's words. Harry began shuffling over to the Slytherin side of the room while Ron quickly grabbed a seat on the Gryffindor side, not realizing until it was too late that he was sitting next to Hermione.
Snape proceeded to ask questions about potion ingredients aimed at embarrassing Harry when he didn't know the answer. Memory-Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione's hand kept shooting up for every question, but Real-Ron couldn't help smiling to himself; she was a genius, even at the age of eleven.
Snape, of course, didn't call on Hermione and snapped at her when she wouldn't stop raising her hand. The rest of the class went much as Ron remembered it, but every time he stole a glance across the room at Harry, he cringed at the miserable defeated look on the boy's bruised face.
After class, Ron rushed out in order to catch up with Harry and talk about what had happened. Harry was slinking away down the hallway like a dog that's been kicked, moving in the opposite direction that Ron, himself, needed to go.
"Harry…wait up!" he called, grabbing onto Harry's arm and making the smaller boy flinch. Real-Ron couldn't believe this was the same boy that was his best friend; and then he remembered…it wasn't. This was a different Harry, from an entirely different universe.
"I need to get to class, Ron," Harry said softly, not even looking at him, "I don't want to be late."
"Who did this to you, Harry?" Ron asked, "Was it Malfoy and his goons?"
Harry's head snapped around to face Ron suddenly and the fear he held in his emerald eyes told Ron that he'd hit the nail on the head. Just as suddenly as the fear had appeared, Harry's face became passive and devoid of all emotion and when he spoke, he did so in a somber monotone, "I told you, Ron…I walked into a door."
"That's rubbish, Harry, and you know it!" Ron snapped, "If they did this, let me know and I'll help you get back at them!"
"Leave it alone, Ron," Harry said, almost pleadingly.
"If he was attacked by another student, he should tell his Head of House. Getting revenge will just get the two of you in trouble."
Both boys turned to see Hermione Granger standing behind them, a haughty sort of look on her face. Harry's look of defeat had returned.
"Professor Snape practically caught them in the act," Harry said, explaining the futility of seeking help from his Head of House, "Malfoy told him I had sleepwalked into the door of the dormitory and he, Crabbe, and Goyle had gotten up to help me back to bed. Snape, of course, believed him."
"That slimy git!" Ron yelled angrily, "I hate Snape!"
"Professor Snape is still a teacher, Ron, and you need to show him respect," Hermione said in annoyingly obnoxious tone of voice.
"And you need to shut up and mind your own business!" Ron snapped hatefully and hurtfully, "We were having a private conversation!"
"I…I just came over to tell you that were going to be late if you didn't hurry up," she said in a shy, hurt little voice, "I'll see you in class."
Before either boy could respond, Hermione rushed off towards the next class on the First Year Gryffindor timetable.
"Merlin, she's annoying," Ron said, turning back towards Harry. Harry, however, had taken to Ron's yelling at Hermione as an opportunity to escape the conversation and get to class. Before Ron could even call after him, Harry had rounded a corner and was gone.
Real-Ron was shocked and appalled at his treatment of Hermione. This particular interaction hadn't happened on his world and it hadn't been him who was so cruel, but he still couldn't help feeling bad. If this was even close to how he had treated Hermione in First Year, it was no wonder she didn't really think they were friends.
Thinking about his Hermione on his world saddened Ron and made him long for home. Did Hermione even miss him, or was she just too angry from their fight in the train station to even notice that he was missing?
Things faded out again, and when his vision cleared, Ron found himself in a new memory. The First Year Gryffindor and Slytherin students were standing outside and Madam Hooch was escorting Neville to the hospital wing with a broken wrist.
Ron recognized the memory as their very first class of Flying Lessons. He remembered this as the day that Harry had earned his spot as Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, making his the youngest Seeker in a century. Of course, that couldn't happen here since Harry wasn't a Gryffindor in this cocked-up mess of a universe.
"Get your greasy little paws off that, Malfoy!"
Ron heard the words coming out of his own mouth, and although he wasn't surprised that he was standing up to Malfoy (it had become a recurring theme every year at Hogwarts), he was surprised to see that Harry wasn't standing up to him.
In his universe, it had been Harry who attempted to rescue Neville's Remembrall from Malfoy's clutches. It had been Harry who had chased Malfoy into the air astride a broom. And it had been Harry who had impressed Professor McGonagall with his talent, thus securing his spot on the House team.
But in this universe, Harry just stood near the back of the group of Slytherins, staring sheepishly down at his feet. Ron could not believe his eyes. This was definitely not his Harry!
"You heard me, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, stepping up to the blonde-haired boy and looking down at him menacingly, "Give it here!"
"Why do you want it, Weasley? Hoping to sell it so you can afford some robes that fit?" Malfoy sneered, smirking at Ron as most of his fellow Slytherins started laughing, "Or maybe you'll send the money home to help pay for that one-room hovel your family lives in!"
Ron's face went red and he gritted his teeth; when he spoke again, his voice was as near a growl as an eleven-year-old boy could get, "Harry may be afraid of you, Malfoy, but I'm not!"
Malfoy's head snapped around and he shot a glare at Harry, "Telling lies about me, Potter? You'd best watch yourself…the way you sleepwalk, who knows what might happen next time!"
Harry said nothing and merely looked away. Ron found himself glaring angrily at the boy who would have been his best friend. He couldn't understand how this Harry could be such a coward.
"If you want Longbottom's little toy, Weasley," Malfoy called mounting a broom and kicking off, lifting into the air, "Come and get it!"
Turning his attention back to Malfoy, Ron began to mount his own broom, intent on flying after him until someone grabbed his arm.
"No!" Hermione shouted, giving him a look that was equal parts fear and fury, "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all in trouble."
"Mind your own business!" Ron shouted back, "And get off me!"
Ron turned and snatched his arm away from Hermione so roughly that it caused her to lose her balance and fall.
"It's your own fault!" Ron snapped, looking down at her on the ground, "You should have let go!"
Before Ron could turn his attention back to his broom and Malfoy, there was a sudden crash of breaking glass and the laughing voice of Malfoy above them.
"Oops! It slipped," Malfoy laughed. The vicious Slytherin had smashed it against the trunk of a nearby tree and now the Remembrall lay in pieces so small it could never hope to be mended, "Too bad you were too busy arguing with your beaver-toothed girlfriend, or you might have been able to catch it."
"She's not my girlfriend!" Ron shouted.
"And she never will be," Real-Ron thought regretfully. This version of himself was hundred times more horrible to Hermione than he had ever been; at this rate, Ron was afraid to imagine how his dead counterpart had treated her during the infamous "Nightmare Incident" on Halloween.
Suddenly, Ron regretted that train of thought as things went hazy, only to return to focus once more on another memory. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found himself in the Great Hall having dinner as Neville took a seat next to him.
"How's your arm?" Ron asked from around a mouthful of steak-and-kidney pie.
"Fine," Neville said, filling his own plate with food, "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute. But she still made me take some horrible-tasting potions and lay in a bed for over an hour to make sure I was alright."
"Blimey," Ron exclaimed, bits of food spraying from his mouth, "She's worse than my Mum!"
"My Gran would have insisted I stay in bed for a week," Neville admitted, letting Ron know he had it easy, "And she probably would have paid for a healer to check up on me every single day."
Ron shook his head in disbelief; Neville's grandmother was even more overprotective than his own mother…and if Molly Weasley was one thing, it was overprotective of her children! At least his mother never sent him a Remembrall whenever he forgot something.
"Listen, Neville," Ron began, blushing slightly, "About your Remembrall…"
"Have you found it?" Neville asked excitedly, "I've lost it and I can't remember where!"
The irony of Neville not being able to remember where his Remembrall is was not lost on Ron. Even so, his ears reddened and he felt slightly embarrassed as he began explaining what happened to the memory-aid.
"It was Malfoy who found it," Ron explained, motioning with his head towards the pointy-faced Slytherin where he sat at his own House table laughing with Crabbe and Goyle, "You dropped it when you fell off your broom; I tried to get it back from him, but before I could…Malfoy broke it."
Neville's face paled, causing Ron to feel even worse.
"He broke it?" the round-faced boy asked, his voice cracking, "My Gran is going to kill me."
"It's Granger's fault," Ron said sharply, looking up from Neville's crestfallen face and cutting his eyes at the bushy-haired brunette who sat by herself near the end of the table, "She grabbed me to stop me going after Malfoy, and by the time I shook her off, he'd broken it. Malfoy --…"
"What about me, Weaselby?" Malfoy sneered as he and his cronies approached the Gryffindor table, "Regaling Lardbottom with the story of how you failed to save his Remembrall?"
"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron snapped jumping to his feet.
"And what will you do if I choose not to, Weaselface?" Malfoy asked with a malicious glint in his eye.
"How about I give you a taste of what you've been doing to Harry," Ron said, motioning with his head in the direction of the Slytherin table where a very sullen-looking Harry Potter sat picking at his dinner as far away from the rest of his House as he could get and still be seated at the same table; his black eye and swollen lip visible even from across the Great Hall.
"You're going to make me sleepwalk into a door?" Malfoy chuckled, but the menacing look in his cold, grey eyes told Ron it was a forced laugh.
"That's a load of rubbish and you know it!" Ron snapped, "What's wrong Malfoy afraid to face me without Crabbe and Goyle?"
"Shut your mouth, Weasel!" Malfoy snapped, glaring hatefully at Ron, "I'm not afraid of anything. I'd take you on anytime on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel! Wands only – no contact. What do you say, Weasel?"
"Fine by me. Neville's my second," Ron replied, "Who's yours?"
Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.
"Crabbe," the blonde Slytherin said, "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
When Malfoy and his minions were gone Neville grabbed Ron's arm, a frightened look on his face, "What do you mean I'm your second? I can't fight a duel!"
"You'll only have to take over if I die," Ron said casually, taking a bite of his pie which was now cold. He could see by the look on Neville's face that his explanation didn't alleviate the other boy's fears, so he quickly added, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most Malfoy and I'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of us knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet the tosser expected me to refuse, anyway."
"And what if you wave your wand and nothing happens?" Neville asked, worried about what Ron had gotten them into.
"I'll throw my wand away and punch him in the nose," Ron said, grinning smugly. Watching all this transpire, Real-Ron couldn't help but think his young counterpart was planning on dueling with his fists regardless.
"Excuse me." The boys looked up to see Hermione Granger standing before them.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron growled, shooting the girl a disgruntled scowl.
Hermione ignored his comment and spoke her piece, "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying –…"
"Bet you could if you tried," Ron hissed.
"--…And you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if your caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."
"And it's really none of your bloody business!" Ron snapped, causing Hermione to quail slightly before huffing in exasperation and turning on her heel to leave.
"Goodbye, Hermione," Neville said softly, waving at her back as she left.
"Stupid girl," Ron growled, jamming his fork into his pie, "Why can't she just leave me alone?!"
Real-Ron sighed, knowing that his young counterpart was bound to get his way. Everything this world's Ron did pushed Hermione further and further away.
Darkness once again drifted in around Ron's vision and within moments the scene before him swirled away and a new one came into view. It was late at night, judging by the quiet, and he and Neville were sneaking down the boys' stairway into the Gryffindor common room.
"It's already half-past eleven," Ron murmured as they reached the common room, dressed in their bathrobes, "We're going to have to hurry."
"Are you sure about this, Ron?" Neville asked, his voice squeaking.
"Neville," Ron said, stopping and turning to face the timid boy behind him, "You can't let people like Malfoy intimidate you, because if you do, they're going to be doing it your whole life. You can't let people push you around; you have to push back! Stand up for yourself! You're worth twelve of Malfoy, Neville, so have some pride!"
"What about you?" Neville asked nervously, his eyes darting around the dark, heavily shadowed room.
"I won't let Malfoy push me around, I'll tell you that!" Ron said emphatically, "Now come on!"
"But you're pushing me around," Neville said, fidgeting, "You dragged me into this without asking me first."
"I'm not talking about me!" Ron exclaimed, rolling his eyes in exasperation, "We're friends, Neville, you don't have to stand up to me!"
"But…what if I really don't want to go?" the other boy asked, looking anywhere but at Ron.
"Why wouldn't you want to go?" Ron asked, not believing what he was hearing.
"Perhaps he doesn't want to get into trouble, Ronald."
The common room had been lit solely by the dying embers in the fireplace. Now, however, a lamp flickered on revealing a very disappointed-looking Percy Weasley standing with his arms folded across his chest, blocking the portrait hole. Off to the side, as if hiding near the girls' staircase, was Hermione Granger dressed in her pink bathrobe.
"You little snitch!" Ron bellowed at Hermione, making as if to go after her, causing her to squeak in fear and scurry partway up the steps where she knew she'd be safe.
"Ronald!" Percy yelled stepping forward and grabbing his brother by the shoulder, "You should be thanking her for telling me about your plans with that Malfoy boy. Had Mr. Filch or one of the teachers caught you, you'd lose House points and receive a detention…or worse. Is that really something you want to drag your friend into?"
"Sod off, Percy!" Ron snapped, glaring at his brother.
"I'm a prefect, Ronald," Percy said sternly with an air of superiority, "And if you're not careful, I'll give you a detention!"
"You would, wouldn't you?" Ron scowled, looking at his brother in disgust before turning an angry gaze towards Hermione where she sat, huddled on the girls' stairs, "Thanks a lot you nosy little swot!"
Hermione gasped in shock, and her eyes seemed to swell with tears quickly and she turned and ran up the stairs.
"Ronald!!" Percy yelled turning his brother to face him, "What would our mother say about you yelling at that girl? I'd suggest you get yourself and your friend back up to your dormitory and get to bed before you wind up falling asleep in class tomorrow."
Ron turned on his heel and stormed back up the boys' staircase with Neville right behind him. Of course, Ron was too busy grumbling to himself to notice Neville's presence at this point.
"Poncey git," Ron growled, "My own brother threatened to give me detention! Where's the family loyalty?! I should get the twins to do something to him!"
"Do you really think you should?" Neville asked nervously, looking back over his shoulder to see if Percy was listening in.
"Too right I should!" Ron snapped as they reached the First Years' dormitory, "Teach Perfect Percy that family is more important than some stupid prefect badge."
"Maybe you should just calm down and go to sleep," Neville suggested quietly as they entered the dorm and silently made their way to their beds, "Messing with your brother is just going to get you in trouble."
"And that girl!" Ron groused, completely ignoring Neville, "How dare she keep sticking her nose in my business?! Can't she take the hint?!"
"She's not that bad, Ron," Neville said shyly, as if he were afraid Ron would turn on him next, "I think she really just wants to help."
"Yeah, help herself to my business," Ron griped as he took off his bathrobe and climbed into bed, "I just wish she would go away."
"Be careful what you wish for," Ron said as his counterpart closed the curtains around his bed and went to sleep.
The world seemed to swirl away into oblivion and once things settle down Ron found he was in a new memory, this one set outside the Charms classroom. Immediately, Ron recognized this as a memory that only slightly paralleled his own, and he felt his stomach drop and his skin start to crawl at the prospect of how this memory might differ from his own. "Oh, Merlin, no…"
"If you had just listened to what I was telling you, you could have been the one to do it first…then you would have been the one to win points for Gryffindor."
Hermione and Ron were leaving the classroom, bickering over what had happened within. This was a definite change from the way Real-Ron remembered it.
"And if you would just mind your own business and stop acting like such a little know-it-all, maybe you'd have some friends!" Ron shouted, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, "You're such a bloody nightmare!"
Hermione gaped at him. All she had ever done was try to help him and get him to like her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her lip began quivering.
"I hate you!!" she screamed, shoving past him so hard that Ron stumbled backwards and nearly fell. He watched her go, the sounds of her sobs echoing off the stone walls of the corridor and mingling with the sounds of laughter from some of the other students who observed the spectacle.
If Memory-Ron felt the least bit bad about what he had just said to Hermione, he didn't show it. He simply shrugged his shoulders and made his way towards his next class.
"You arse! You great stupid git!!" Ron cursed at the eleven-year-old memory-version of himself inside whose body he was currently trapped. He knew that he, himself, had mistreated Hermione during their First Year at Hogwarts together, but it didn't hold a candle to the way this world's version of Ron Weasley behaved. He was quickly developing an urge to throttle his eleven-year-old self.
Things started to go black and Ron shuddered, fearing what he was going to see next. He had his suspicions what the next memory would be. When the darkness receded and Ron found himself looking out over the Great Hall as it erupted in chaos, Ron's suspicions proved correct.
Professor Quirrell had just bolted into the Great Hall, yelling frantically about a troll running around loose in the dungeons. The students were racing out of the dining hall in search of their respective common room while the prefects from each House tried to keep matters under control.
Ron was along for the ride as his counterpart raced up the steps towards the Seventh Floor alongside the other Gryffindors. There was no Harry around to remind him of Hermione's continued seclusion in the girls' loo, oblivious of the troll's presence in the castle, and if this world's Ron remembered on his own, he didn't show it.
"Is everyone accounted for?"
Ron looked up as he heard the voice of his brother Percy the Prefect. Fifth Year prefects were always placed in charge of the First Year students in their House; it was the prefects' job to make sure the brand-new students were getting on well in their equally brand-new environment…and in times of emergency, it was the prefects' responsibility to ensure that all the students in their charge made it to safety.
"First Years…are any of your classmates missing?"
"Ooh!" Parvati Patil jumped forward from her spot next to Lavender Brown, "Hermione Granger's not here. She skipped all her afternoon classes and I saw her crying in the Ground Floor girls' bathroom earlier. She said she wanted to be left alone."
Percy turned to face his female counterpart – prefects always came in pairs…a boy and a girl…for situations exactly like this one. "Check the girls' dormitory; she may have come back unnoticed and decided to lie down if she was sick enough to miss her classes."
"She skipped all her classes after the fight you had with her," Neville whispered to Ron as they watched the female prefect make her way upstairs.
"It's not my fault she stayed in the bathroom all day," Ron whispered back, crossing his arms across his chest stubbornly.
"I know you don't like Hermione, Ron, but do you really want her to die?" Neville asked, looking up at his friend.
"What? She's not going to die…!" Ron hissed back, agitated by the things Neville had said, "She's probably upstairs asleep!"
"What if she's not?" Neville asked.
"If she's not, then whatever happens to her is your fault," Ron thought, wishing he could actually say that to his young counterpart.
Precious moments ticked by before the girl prefect returned, shaking her head to indicate that Hermione Granger was not in the girls' dorm. Ron already knew where Hermione was; no doubt this Hermione was still down in the girls' lavatory about to have the same run-in with a mountain troll that his Hermione had.
"We'll have to alert the Seventh Year prefects," Percy said in a voice that was pompous and emotionless at the same time, "Perhaps they can go looking for her, or they can contact the Head Boy or Girl and get them involved."
Watching this occur, Ron was out of his mind with aggravation. On his world, by this time, he and Harry were already in the process of mounting a rescue; but here, this Ron didn't seem to give a damn.
"What now, Ron?" Neville asked as they watched Percy and the prefects conferring.
"By the time Perfect Prefect Percy gets around to actually look for her, Hermione could be…" Ron's First Year counterpart was muttering to himself moreso than Neville. "And it'll be all my fault."
Real-Ron couldn't help but feel relief as his memory-self bolted through the portrait hole and ran off to help the girl he had so thoroughly insulted earlier; perhaps there was hope for him after all. The sound of Hermione's blood-curdling scream coming from behind the bathroom door filled Ron with dread and spurred his younger counterpart into action. Until…
"Ronald!"
Ron jumped a foot in the air as his name was yelled from behind him. He turned quickly and his face paled as he saw his brother, Percy, standing in the hallway looking angry – so angry in fact that there was a sudden resemblance to their mother. Real-Ron was so stunned he could hardly think to do anything but watch the scene unfold before him.
"I don't know what you think you're doing out here without permission or how you thought no one would notice you sneaking out of the common room, but you're going back right now. Do you realize how dangerous it is out here right now? There's a troll loose in the castle!"
Ron opened his mouth to respond, but before he could make so much as a peep, an explosion of sound came erupting out of the room behind him. A great crashing cacophony of wood, metal, porcelain, and stone being smashed asunder mixed horribly with an inhumanly loud beastly roar and an ear-splitting feminine scream of sheer terror.
Percy pushed past Ron and threw open the door to the girls' bathroom behind him. The lavatory looked like a war zone. The toilet stalls were nothing more than great shards of wooden splinters lying about the floor, and the toilets themselves had been smashed into pieces so small the were unrecognizable. A row of sinks, too, had been pulverized and bits of glass and metal was all that remained of several wall mirrors. Water was spewing in every direction from the mangled pipes of the annihilated plumbing fixtures.
In the corner, huddled into a ball with tears running down her face to become indistinguishable from the spray of water drenching her, Hermione cowered screaming her lungs out as she faced what she had to assume was certain death. Certain death in the form of a full-grown mountain troll, smashing and bashing at everything within sight with its monstrous wooden club; a club with on more than one occasion it aimed at the young girl only managing to miss her as the terrified girl scurried out of the way at the last instant. But now, with the girl trapped in the corner, it was but a matter of time before she would be nothing more than a smear on the stone floor.
"The teachers are in the dungeon," Percy said quickly to Ron as he dashed into the room, "Run get help…quickly!!"
"But…" Real-Ron couldn't believe his eyes. He remembered this event clearly; he and Harry rushed in to save Hermione from the troll. Harry was caught by the troll and in as much, if not more peril as Hermione and he, Ron, had to save the day. But here…watching the memory of his dead counterpart unfold…Ron knew that would not come to pass. He would not be the one to save the day.
"GO!!!"
Having never heard his brother Percy use that tone of voice ever in his life, Ron ran off as fast as his long, gangly legs and big feet would carry him. Racing into the entrance hall, Ron found Snape and Quirrell coming down the marble staircase and figured they were better than nothing. Of course, Real-Ron knew why Snape and Quirrell were coming down the stairs – they'd been up at the forbidden Third Floor corridor – but his counterpart did not.
"Professors!! Troll…girl's loo…Percy…Hermione…hurry!!!
Snape and Quirrell seemed caught off-guard by Ron's sudden appearance and subsequent outburst, but they recovered quickly…or, at least, Snape did. He shoved Quirrell in front of him, and the two of them hurried down the hall, back the way Ron had come.
Ron was just about to follow when Professor McGonagall came through one of the heavy wooden doors leading down into the dungeons.
"Mr. Weasley, what in the name of Godric Gryffindor himself are you doing outside of your common room?!" Professor McGonagall asked, her lips a thin, angry line, "Did you not hear the Headmaster's announcement? Are you not aware of the danger?!"
Ron frantically explained the situation to Professor McGonagall, making a bit more sense than he did when explaining it to Snape and Quirrell. Scowling even more deeply than she had when she thought it was just one of her students in danger.
Rushing down the hallway, hot on the heels of Professors Snape and Quirrell, they reached the girls' bathroom just in time to see Snape cast a spell that dropped the troll in an instant. Peering into the girls' bathroom, Ron looked on in horror at the sight of his brother Percy lying battered and bloodied on the floor with Hermione huddled on the floor next to him, crying hysterically.
"Percy!" Ron yelled, trying to rush into the bathroom and see if his brother was alive. McGonagall's firm hand on his shoulder prevented it. Even though this wasn't his brother, and even though this was all just someone else's memory, Ron couldn't help his feeling of dread. Percy may be a prat, and he may have turned his back on his family, but he was still his brother, and seeing him laid out on the floor, looking half-dead, still had a profound affect on Ron. He never wanted to see any of his brothers looking like that…not even Percy.
"We'll need to get your brother and Miss Granger to the hospital wing immediately, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said as Snape cast a spell that levitated Percy onto an invisible stretcher. "And you will need to return to Gryffindor Tower, poste-haste."
"But my brother…!" Ron started to protest, blushing slightly when he realized that he was arguing with his Head-of-House.
McGonagall's stern gaze faltered slightly as she relented, "Very well, Mr. Weasley, you may accompany your brother to the hospital wing. However, you must stay out of the way, and once Madam Pomfrey tells you to leave, you must return to Gryffindor Tower. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Professor," Ron replied, reddening quickly.
"Oh, and Mr. Weasley," the professor began, her stern visage returning, "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for the reckless behavior displayed by yourself and Miss Granger tonight."
"Five points?!" Ron exclaimed in complete shock.
"Each," McGonagall added, just in case her point hadn't been made before.
"Each?!" Ron was red-faced and practically beside himself as he shouted at the deputy headmistress.
"Shall I make it ten?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
Ron blanched and suddenly dropped his gaze to the floor, "Err…sorry, Professor."
"Very well, then, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, turning and moving off down the hallways, "You'd best get to the hospital wing and check on your brother…before you find yourself in any more trouble tonight."
By the time Ron reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was nearly finished tending to Percy's injuries. He was still unconscious, but he looked much better, and was rapidly going from deathly pale and pallid to the more normal-looking pasty-white of the Weasley family. It appeared that Percy's run-in with the mountain troll would leave him with nothing more than a few bruises.
Hermione, Ron noticed, was sitting up on one of the hospital beds with a blanket wrapped around her, sipping from what appeared to be a hot cup of tea. She had her knees tucked up against her chest and were hugging them against her with one arm, slowly rocking back-and-forth. She looked so fragile…so broken…it was nearly breaking Ron's heart as he continued experiencing his counterpart's memory.
"How's my brother?" Ron asked the matron, casting nervous glances back-and-forth between Percy and Madam Pomfrey.
"He'll be fine," the nurse replied, "He's fortunate that his injuries weren't life-threatening, going up against a troll like that." She shook her head and clucked her tongue, muttering something about Gryffindors having more courage than common sense.
"He saved my life."
Ron and Madam Pomfrey looked up at Hermione. Her voice was so quiet, it was barely a whisper. She stared straight ahead at Percy's unconscious form, tracks from her dried tears staining her cheeks.
"If he hadn't come in and distracted the troll, it would've killed me," she sobbed. Suddenly she looked up at Ron, as if noticing him for the first time, and her eyes…which had been somewhat blank and lifeless…flashed darkly, "It's your fault I was there; you horrible, cruel, hateful little boy!!"
Ron stepped back as if physically struck. Real-Ron was struck dumb. Never would he have expected to hear that from Hermione, not even during one of their worst rows.
Madam Pomfrey looked up from her treatment of Percy to give a stunned look to Hermione. "Mr. Weasley," the nurse said, turning her attention to Ron, "I think it best if you return to your common room now."
"But…"
"Your brother will be asleep until morning," Madam Pomfrey said, cutting across the redheaded boy, "You can come and see him then."
"But…"
"Now, Mr. Weasley," the matron said sternly, "I won't have you upsetting my patients. Now shoo!"
"Fine…" Ron said glumly. He turned and left the hospital wing, but not before hearing one final exchange between Hermione and the school nurse.
"I hate him, I really do," Hermione sobbed as the hospital wing doors closed behind Ron, "I hate him with all my heart."
"There, there, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said in a soothing voice as she finished tending to Percy, "A bit of Dreamless Sleep Draught and you'll be right as rain in the morning."
"That won't stop me from hating him," Hermione croaked, "I'll hate Ron Weasley for the rest of my life."
Hermione's words sliced through Real-Ron's heart like a knife. They weren't spoken by his Hermione…deep down, he knew that…but just the fact that it was Hermione…any Hermione…saying those horrible things…he felt like he just wanted to die.
Ron welcomed the change when this memory faded and the scene shifted away from Halloween and another memory swirled into view. When his vision cleared, Ron found himself sitting in the Gryffindor bleachers at the Quidditch pitch.
The Gryffindor team was taking on Slytherin, and as he watched the memory unfold, Ron recognized this as the very first match of the year…the match that would have been Harry's first match ever if he wasn't a Slytherin in this manky mixed-up parallel universe.
Ron was curious as to who took Harry's place as Seeker in this dimension, but he couldn't quite make him out – at least he thought it was a him – as he circled about, high above the pitch, in search of the elusive golden snitch.
"Thanks for saving me a seat."
Ron turned his attention away from the Quidditch players and looked up as Neville took a seat on the bleacher next to him. The round-faced boy looked a bit flustered and out of breath.
"Alright there, Neville?" Ron asked, noticing his friend's state of discomfiture.
"I was stuck in the library working on my Potions homework, and I had to run all the way here to make it to the game in time."
Ron shook his head and chuckled, turning his head back to watch the players above the pitch, "I don't know why you go to Granger for help with your homework all the time. You don't see me running to her for help, do you?"
"That's because you know she'd never help you," Neville said with a chuckle as he pulled out a pair of field glasses to better watch the game, "Besides, you haven't melted three cauldrons this year alone. I need all the help I can get!"
"All you're doing by going to her for help all the time is stroking her ego," Ron said bitterly, "It's no wonder she thinks she's better than everybody when everyone keeps asking for help with their homework."
"It's not everybody," Neville informed his friend, "It's just me. I don't know if you've noticed, but most people tend to ignore Hermione."
"I don't blame them," Ron sniggered, watching the Gryffindor Chasers move downfield with the Quaffle, "She's not a very friendly person."
"Well she's nice to me," Neville said quickly, sounding as though he was getting annoyed at his friend, "She's always been nice to me…ever since she tried to help me find Trevor on the train. Maybe if you just tried to --…"
"OY!!" Ron snapped, looking crossly at Neville, "Whose friend are you, anyway…mine or hers?"
"Can't I be both?" Neville asked hopefully.
"No!!" Ron yelled, glaring at his friend, "She hates me, and I hate her! You're going to have to pick one of us!"
"No!!" Neville yelled, glaring at Ron, "I'm not going to choose which friend I'm going to keep! You can't make me!"
Ron shrank back, surprised at Neville's outburst, "Neville…"
"We're friends, Ron," Neville said, calming down, "You and I are friends. But so are Hermione and I, and it isn't right that you asked me to pick…and if you do, you're not going to like my choice."
"Fine," Ron grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, "I thought I told you not to stand up to me."
Neville smiled and turned his attention back to the Quidditch match just as Katie Bell scored against the Slytherin Keeper, Bletchley. The two boys were quiet for a few minutes, concentrating solely on the game until Ron spoke up again.
"Hey, Neville…can I take a look at your Potions homework later?"
Neville blushed but smiled brightly at the same time, "Sorry, Ron. Hermione made me promise not to let you see any of the homework she helps me with; she doesn't want you copying."
"Bloody Hell!" Ron cursed, drawing looks from several of the other Gryffindor students assembled in the bleachers, "I told you she hates me!"
Ron found himself chuckling as this memory faded to black; it was a very Hermione thing to do, and he couldn't help laughing at the expense of his young counterpart. Unfortunately for Ron, his amusement would be short-lived.
Another unfamiliar memory flashed into Ron's mind. It was Christmas break, judging by the decorations everywhere; Ron's parents had decided to spend the holiday in Romania with his older brother Charlie, leaving Ron and his three brothers at school.
Ron was, apparently, outside enjoying a snowball war with the twins when he saw a familiar bespectacled face walking through the snow towards the lake. He hurried after him, eager to catch up to Harry.
"Oy! Harry, wait up!" Ron called, running up to the black-haired boy and grabbing hold of his arm in order to get his attention.
"Get off!!" Harry yelled, pulling back violently and rounding angrily on Ron, "Go away and leave me alone, Ron!" The black-haired boy's face was sporting a black eye, but this one appeared to be fading. Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins went home for Christmas, so Harry must be receiving a respite from his nightly "sleepwalking accidents"
"Harry…what's wrong?" Ron asked, looking hurt by Harry's reaction.
"What do you think is wrong?!" Harry shouted angrily, in a manner reminiscent of the way Ron had taken to speaking to Hermione, "I hate it here! I'd rather be back at the Dursleys' in the cupboard under the stairs than spend one more minute stuck here in Slytherin!"
"Let's go talk to Professor McGonagall," Ron suggested, "Maybe she can talk to Dumbledore and get him to sort you into a different House."
"Professor Snape wouldn't allow that!" Harry snapped, starting to walk off again, "He likes being able to 'keep and eye on me'…"
"Stuff Snape!" Ron cursed, "Bugger Snape!! He doesn't run the school; Dumbledore does!!"
"Maybe not, but Professor Snape does run Slytherin House," Harry replied, continuing his journey towards the lake, "And since I'm in Slytherin, that means he's in charge of me. So I'd rather not make things harder on myself than they already are by making Snape angry by going over his head."
"So, what…?" Ron asked, jogging after Harry, the snow crunching noisily underfoot, "You're just going to stay in Slytherin and put up with the beatings by Malfoy and his thugs?"
"Leave it alone, Ron," Harry warned.
"Why?" Ron scoffed, "You might be afraid of Malfoy, but I'm not!"
Ron had to jump back when Harry rounded on him, his face full of fury, "Do you have any idea why they do it, Ron?! Do you?!"
"Erm…err…no…I…"
"Because of YOU! That very first night when Malfoy sicced his goons on me, do you know what he said to me afterwards? He said, 'That's for choosing the wrong sort of wizard to be friends with…that's for choosing a Weasley over a Malfoy!'"
"What…?!" Ron's face paled at the thought of being the cause of his friend's pain. The paleness quickly flashed to red, however, as he was filled with anger towards Malfoy.
"Every time they see me talking to you," Harry went on, "I get another beating for 'not learning my lesson.'"
"Harry…"
"So if you're really my friend, Ron," Harry's voice was calm now as he turned and continued his trek down to the frozen lake, "Do me a favor and just stay away from me from now on. Just pretend I don't exist, because that's what I'm going to do to you."
Ron stood, open-mouthed, as he watched his friend move the remaining thirty yards down to the lake, but the distance may as well have been a thousand miles, because Harry Potter had just effectively walked out of his life.
They may have only spent a few hours getting to know one another onboard the Hogwarts Express, but the friendship that had developed that day was special…Ron knew that his eleven-year-old counterpart could feel it. And now, with that friendship officially over, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.
Thoroughly demoralized after watching the end of his friendship with Harry, Ron really didn't want to see any more memories. It didn't matter that this wasn't his world and these weren't his friends that hated him, and he wasn't the Ron Weasley they hated. All that mattered was the looks on the faces of the two people who were most important to him as they exited his life.
All of these memories combined to show Ron just how tenuous his friendship with Harry and Hermione really was. He had never imagined what his life would been like without his two best friends, and now that he could see just how bleak his life could be, he wanted nothing more than to return home to a world where his friends were still his friends; but as this memory faded and yet another came into view, Ron knew that that was not going to happen.
Ron found himself once again in the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch, this time watching Gryffindor take on Hufflepuff. He was once again seated next to Neville, when someone poked him rather hard in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.
"Oh, sorry Weasley, didn't see you there," Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron snapped, turning his attention back to the match playing out before him about the Quidditch pitch, "Shouldn't you be back over in the Slytherin bleachers?"
"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Malfoy said loudly, completely ignoring Ron's question, "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's McLaggen, who's got no talent, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money – you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."
Neville went bright red, but turned in his seat to face Malfoy, "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not bothering to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."
"Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."
Ron's tolerance for Malfoy was already stretched to the breaking point after what Harry told him over the Christmas break. "I'm warning you, Malfoy – one more word --…"
"Ron!" Neville exclaimed suddenly, "Look!"
McLaggen, the Gryffindor Seeker, had gone into a spectacular dive which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Neville jumped up, crossing his fingers, as McLaggen streaked towards the ground like a bullet.
"You're in luck, Weasley, he's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.
Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground and beating on him with fists of fury. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.
Ron and Malfoy were rolling around under the seats and there was a scuffle and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle. The five boys were so wrapped up in their brawl that they didn't even notice when the stands erupted with cheers, signaling the end of the match.
Ron felt a sense of pride and vindication as he watched his young counterpart give Malfoy what-for. As this particular memory faded out, he remembered how this scene had played out on his own world; he'd come away unscathed whilst giving Malfoy a black eye, and except for being knocked out, Neville was none the worse-for-wear from his set-to with Crabbe and Goyle.
When his vision cleared again, Ron found himself once more in the midst of an unfamiliar memory.
Memory-Ron and the ever-present Neville Longbottom were sitting in the Great Hall alongside a throng of other students. There was a buzz of excitement passing throughout the crowd as various rumors and bits of gossip were bandied about.
"Did you hear about Harry Potter?"
"I heard he failed his D.A.D.A. exam, so he killed Professor Quirrell!"
"That's stupid! I heard that Snape killed Quirrell because he was protecting Potter…and everyone knows Snape hates Potter!"
"Well, I heard that Hagrid killed Quirrell because Quirrell found out he was keeping a dragon as a pet!"
"That's just barmy! Potter had the dragon, and it ate Quirrell and half of the First Year Slytherins before Snape and Hagrid put a stop to him!"
"You're mental…look! All the Slytherin First Years are their table except for Potter; explain that!"
"The way I heard it, Quirrell kidnapped Potter from out of the Slytherin dorm while he was sleeping; apparently Quirrell need Potter's help to steal something from the Third Floor, but when Potter refused to help him, they struggled and Potter killed him by accident."
At the conclusion of this last theory, the rumor-mongering students who'd been having this discussion turned to face the final theorist and began laughing derisively at him.
"That has got to be the absolute stupidest thing I have ever heard! What…did you read that in The Quibbler?"
The laughter and jibes continued until the group of students changed topics and started spreading rumors about something else.
"Do you think the rumors are true?" Neville asked before taking a bite of his waffles.
"I don't know," Ron replied from around a mouthful of sausage, "But Harry and Quirrell aren't at their tables."
Ron pointed across the hall to the Slytherin table where Harry was conspicuously absent. He then motioned to the Head table at the front of the hall, where Quirrell, too, was missing.
"You and Harry Potter are friends, right?" Neville asked, "Couldn't you just ask him what happened?"
Ron scowled and then dropped the forkful of food back onto his plate without eating it; suddenly he'd lost his appetite.
"We're not exactly friends anymore," Ron admitted, his ears going red as he thought back to their encounter over Christmas, "I'll see you later, Neville; I still have some packing to do before we leave tomorrow."
Ron didn't wait for Neville to respond as he jumped to his feet and hurried out of the Great Hall. Once in the entrance hall, Ron headed up the marble staircase, making a beeline for the hospital wing.
Ron poked his head through the double doors, looking to see if Harry was inside; sure enough, across the ward, never the window, Harry laid in one of the hospital beds, looking forlornly up at the ceiling. Checking to make sure Madam Pomfrey wasn't about, for fear of her running him off, Ron entered the hospital wing and hurried over to Harry's bedside.
"Alright there, Harry?" Ron asked nervously when he reached the other boy.
"What are you doing here, Ron?" Harry asked bitterly, not even bothering to look at his visitor, "Go away."
"There are a lot of rumors going around about you, Harry," Ron offered by way of an explanation for why he was in the hospital wing.
"And let me guess," Harry snapped, "You came up here to see if they were true. Go away, Ron!"
"I came here to see if you were alright, you prat!" Ron snapped back, still harboring some ill will towards Harry for the way he abandoned their friendship.
"I killed somebody, Ron! How do you think I am?!" Harry's face was a mask of rage, and Ron inadvertently took a step back, "Quirrell and Voldemort were working together to steal some sort of stone hidden beneath the Third Floor…"
Ron flinched as soon as Harry said Voldemort, but he recovered quickly, "Quirrell? That doesn't make sense, Harry," Ron said lamely, trying to wrap his head around the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"Well, I'm not lying if that's what you're getting at!" the black-haired boy roared defensively.
"No, Harry, I didn't mean…"
"Quirrell snatched me out of bed and dragged me off to some dungeon or something trying to get me to steal the stone for him," Harry explained, "When I didn't give it to him, Quirrell attacked me!"
"Bloody Hell…!" Ron gasped, eyes wide, "But Quirrell's a teacher!"
"It wasn't just Quirrell," Harry continued, "It was like Voldemort was living inside him."
Once again, at the mention of Voldemort's name, Ron flinched and paled visibly.
"Voldemort ordered Quirrell to kill me, but when he touched me, it hurt him. I didn't have much time to think since Quirrell was getting ready to kill me with some spell," Harry continued, his voice softer and shakier as he recalled Quirrell's final moments, "I grabbed Quirrell and held onto him; he was screaming in pain and his skin was blistering like I was burning him."
"Then what happened?" Ron asked, riveted by Harry's story, "Did Quirrell die?"
"I think so," Harry said, nodding, "I must have passed out from the pain in my scar…"
"Your scar…?" Ron looked at the lightning-shaped mark on the other boy's forehead.
"It hurts whenever Voldemort's around," Harry explained.
"Wicked!" Ron gasped, almost forgetting to flinch at the name.
"I woke up here in the hospital wing," Harry continued, ignoring Ron's outburst, "Dumbledore said that Voldemort left Quirrell to die. He thought I was dead, too."
"You talked to Dumbledore? Cool!" Ron looked on with wide eyes, more and more impressed with Harry's story. He really wished he'd been there to see it all…except, perhaps, for the part involving You-Know-Who.
"Weren't you listening, Ron?!" Harry yelled, making Ron jump, "I killed someone! Voldemort almost killed me! It's not cool or wicked or anything else you might say to make it sound like a fun little adventure!"
Ron backed up another step, "Sorry, Harry…"
"This is my life, Ron! Voldemort's out there and he wants me dead! You think this all sounds exciting, but all I did was make him angry!"
"I said I was sorry…"
"I'm starting to think I should have accepted his offer…" Harry muttered to himself, looking away from Ron.
"What offer?" Ron asked, concerned.
"Nothing, Ron; I'm just tired," Harry lied, "I think it's best if you just go away."
"But…"
"I said leave me alone!!!" Harry jumped up to a kneeling position as he shouted at Ron like a man possessed.
"What is all this shouting?!" Madam Pomfrey asked sternly, coming through the double doors carrying a tray of oatmeal, toast, and pumpkin juice. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed Ron, "Mr. Weasley…upsetting another one of my patients! Do I need to have a word with Professor McGonagall about you?"
"Don't bother, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, glaring at Ron, "He was just leaving; weren't you, Ron?"
"Yeah, right," Ron grumbled, moving towards the exit as he shot a disappointed look at Harry, "There's no reason for me to be here anymore."
Ron left the hospital wing, leaving behind any shreds that remained of his friendship with Harry Potter. Once again, the darkness engulfed Ron.
-- End Chapter 4 --
AUTHOR'S END NOTES: Well, there you have it; now you know SOME of what went down at Mirror!Hogwarts before Real!Ron showed up. Any questions? If so, go ahead and ask 'em.
Chapter Five is done and will be posted in two weeks (according to the schedule on my profile page); now I need to write Chapter Six! See you in two weeks, people!!!
~Hawk~