Author's Notes: Man am I stupid!!!! The version of Chapter 5 I posted was the wrong version...an earlier version!!!! THIS is the finished version!!!!!!
Here we are...Chapter 5. Has it seriously been two weeks since I last posted? Well, no, technically, it hasn't. I posted the last story on Monday, March 23, so really, this story is about three days shy of being posted two weeks later. Not that it really matters in the final analysis. All I know is that time is passing quickly, and I don't like it. In another two weeks, Chapter 6 is due to be posted...the problem is that Chapter 6 isn't written yet.
I can hear you all out there now: "Uncle BlackHawk, what's the big deal? Two weeks is nothing; you always take two weeks for the next chapter." Ah, but kiddies, here's the thing: up 'til now, I've been a couple of chapters ahead of the curve each time I posted. Hell, I had four chapters written before I posted the first chapter of this story. Now? Well, I've got a later chapter all buttoned up, but the chapters leading up to it...not so much.
It's my own fault, too. See, I was struggling pretty hard to get this chapter done. Not within the time-frame, mind, this chapter has been done for at least a month...no, I was struggling with the chapter's plot...what happened in Mirror!Ron's Second Year at Hogwarts? I had no more idea than you do right now as you're sitting here reading this. I made a comment to my Beta Reader that if I could just finish this chapter, the next two chapters would be a breeze. I should'a effin' known better. Anytime I open my big mouth and make those sorts of statements, the Gods of Karma come along and say, "Oh yeah? Put up or shut up, Mr. Fancy-Pants!!"
I've been cursed with a crippling case of writer's block ever since. Sitting here, struggling with trying to put together Chapter 6...trying unsuccessfully, I might add...I can't help thinking I'd rather be cock-blocked than suffer writer's block. :-/ If I can't work through the writer's block and get the chapter done, Chapter 6 may well NOT be posted in two weeks. Consider yourself warned.
Oh, an in case anyone's wondering, this chapter's title is another line from "Reflections Of" by Diana Ross and the Supremes.
Gratuitous Thanks: Everyone who's read AFTERMATH knows I like to send a shout-out to those stalwart readers who have taken the time and effort to review my story for me; without someone reviewing my work, I have no idea how I'm doing (since we all know I think my work is complete rubbish). So, to you, the reviewers, I say thee THANKS, and to you the non-reviewers, I say thee what're you waiting for? All the cool kids are doing it! 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, Babasahin Ko, SugarDee, and wow60 have been awesome enough to review MIRROR, MIRROR so far...which makes them cooler than the other side of the pillow!
Obsequious Kowtowing: As you know, I'm working with CutewithAcapital-Q as my Beta Reader for this story. So, thanks again to her for helping me out with this one.
Disclaimer: JKR owns this stuff, though she might not want it anymore when she sees what I've done to it.
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 5
"Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be"
"Professor…please, stop!" Ron practically begged as the memories from First Year ceased, "I don't think I can take anymore of those memories."
"There is more you need to see, Ronald," Dumbledore said, raising his wand again, "In order to understand the world in which you now find yourself."
"But wait!" Ron said, grabbing the wizard's wrist without realizing it, in order to keep him from tapping him on the head with the wand, "There's something I need to ask you first. Harry told me once that he asked the Sorting Hat not to put him in Slytherin…and he wound up being put in Gryffindor; if he asked the Hat to NOT put him in Slytherin, then why did it?"
"There is a very simple answer to your question, Ronald," the headmaster said, "Mr. Potter made no such request of the Sorting Hat."
"What? But…"
"This is the point where our worlds diverge, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore explained sagely, "On your world, young Harry Potter voiced his preference to not be a Slytherin to the Sorting Hat. On this world, he remained silent and allowed the Sorting Hat to go with its first choice."
"…" Ron was speechless, his mouth gaping open, unable to believe everything hinged on one little choice that Harry failed to make in this universe.
Dumbledore looked at Ron tiredly before speaking, "Now, if you are quite ready, there are more memories for you to experience."
"Wait! I have another question!" Ron exclaimed, sinking down into the chair to avoid the headmaster's wand.
Dumbledore sighed, placing his wand in his lap and folding his hands as he waited patiently, "Very well, Mr. Weasley; ask your question and I shall endeavor to answer to the best of my ability."
"Why didn't you do anything when Harry was being attacked by Malfoy and the other Slytherins at night in their dorms?" Ron asked with narrowed eyes.
"Unfortunately, Ronald," Dumbledore began, sounding apologetic as if he'd already known what Ron was going to ask, "Such matters are to be dealt with by the individual Heads-of-House. Professor Snape chose not to bring the matter to my attention; as such there was nothing I could do."
"But Snape HATES Harry!" Ron shouted, moving forward as if ready to spring up out of his chair, "Of course he didn't put a stop to it!! He was probably hoping that Malfoy would go ahead and kill Harry!!!"
"Professor Snape may have issues with Mr. Potter, Ronald, but I trust him to keep the students in his charge safe from harm," Dumbledore said this in a very kind, soft voice, but there was something about the statement that told Ron that what he said was irrefutable.
Ron shook his head in bewilderment; Dumbledore's faith in Professor Snape was well-known, and it looked like it extended to this world as well. There seemed to be nothing that Snape could do that would shake Dumbledore's confidence in him, and Ron found himself hoping that there would never come a day when the headmaster's faith would be proven to have been misplaced.
"So, you don't believe that Snape knew about Harry being attacked?" Ron asked, incredulous at the headmaster's insistence on trusting someone so obviously evil.
Dumbledore sighed heavily and reached out to place a hand on Ron's arm, "Ronald, please…it's Professor Snape; I must insist that you show your instructors their due respect." Once that was said, Dumbledore sat back in his chair, frowning, "Without evidence that Professor Snape allowed Harry's beatings to occur, I am forced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, if you don't mind, there is more for you to see, and we really are running out of time."
"I just don't understand how you can let that stuff happen to Harry," Ron said, sitting back and folding his arms, "I mean, he's your favorite student…you've always looked out for him before!"
"Alas," Dumbledore began, shaking his head sadly, "I fear Mr. Potter and I do not have the same relationship here that we have on your world, Ronald. I had once hoped that we would be close…but that was not to be."
"So, you let Harry go on getting beatings from Malfoy because you just don't care about him!" Ron yelled, his face red with anger, no longer caring that he was disrespecting the school's headmaster.
"Ronald, please calm yourself," Dumbledore said frowning, "Mr. Potter and I may not have the close relationship of which you're familiar, but that does not mean I do not care. As headmaster of this school, I have the best interests of all my students at heart…even Mr. Potter's."
Ron looked away, slightly embarrassed. All of his expectations were based on his experiences back in his own dimension, and at every turn this universe he was in seemed to disappoint him. He didn't think he'd ever get used to this crazy, mixed up world.
"Mr. Weasley, I am sure that I will fail to measure up to your standards where Mr. Potter is concerned," Dumbledore continued, starting to look a bit put-out, "But please remember that this is not the world you are used to, and many things will seem completely foreign to you."
Ron nodded in agreement; no truer statement had ever been made. This entire universe seemed alien to him, and the worst part was that he didn't even know why he was here.
"Professor, what am I doing here?" Ron asked bluntly for the second time that night, "You said this world needs a Ron Weasley…but why? All I am is Harry Potter's useless sidekick; what possible good could I be to anybody here?"
"I promise, Ronald, all will be made clear eventually," Dumbledore said remaining as vague as before; the look on his face was prompting Ron to believe him, "For now, we must continue with the memories."
"Fine," Ron sighed, getting comfortable, "Let's get it over with."
Dumbledore nodded and reached towards Ron with his wand once more. He tapped Ron on the top of his head again, and as it had before, the world went black and Ron's mind swirled with colors as he was thrown into the memories of his dead counterpart one more time.
"You're lying!"
"I am not!" Ron found himself looking at his sister Ginny as she had appeared around the time of her First Year at Hogwarts. She was obviously distressed over something, as her ears and cheeks were flushed a tell-tale Weasley red, and her brown eyes flashed angrily, "You don't know him, Ginny!"
"Harry Potter's the Boy-Who-Lived!" she snapped at him, "He beat You-Know-Who when he was a baby…he's a hero!!"
"Listen to yourself, Gin," Ron said bitterly, "He was a baby! He didn't do it on purpose…it was some sort of accident. He got lucky. Trust me…he's not a hero like you're making him out to be. He's a Slytherin for Merlin's sake!"
"That's why you don't want me to go near him, isn't it?!" Ginny said accusingly, "You don't like him because he's a Slytherin! Well, I don't care about that!"
"Of course you don't," Ron replied, his bright blue eyes turning dark, "You're just some stupid little girl who's had Mummy tell her one too many bedtime stories about the Boy-Who-Lived and you've gone all mental over his legend!"
"I have not…" Ginny countered, but her voice was soft and weak and lacked conviction.
"I met the real Harry Potter," Ron went on, "Trust me, he didn't summon his Mum's wand to him at the last minute and cast a silent shield spell that was so powerful it deflected the Killing Curse…that's all a load of rubbish. He's just a scared little bloke trying to get by in Slytherin."
This was an unfamiliar memory for Ron; he was obviously at the Burrow during his summer holiday, but he'd never had this conversation with his little sister before. Obviously his twelve-year-old counterpart was trying to protect his little sister; something Ron could relate to. Harry Potter wasn't the hero his sister had been crushing on her whole life…he was just a boy, as frail and imperfect as anyone else.
"You're lying…" Ginny gasped, tears welling up in her brown eyes.
"No I'm not, Ginny," Ron said harshly, "This isn't some stupid game that we play out in the garden; Harry Potter is not going to come along and rescue you from You-Know-Who and then whisk you off to his castle and marry you! You'll see when you get to Hogwarts this year; Harry Potter isn't what you think he is."
"Ronald…Ginny…come on now, we're leaving!"
The sound of their mother's voice drew Ron and Ginny's attention and they rushed downstairs to the sitting room where Molly and Arthur Weasley stood by the fireplace waiting for them alongside Fred, George, and Percy.
"It's about time you two came down!" their mother chided them, "Diagon Alley is liable to be stuffed with people this time of day. Well come on…grab some Floo powder and let's be off! Arthur…we're running low; we'll need to buy some more today."
Each of the Weasleys took a handful of Floo powder from the flowerpot kept next to the fireplace, and in short order, the lot of them were making their way through Diagon Alley. The family separated, and the boys went off to explore the various shops while Ginny and her parents purchased her school supplies.
An hour later, the family met up at Flourish and Blotts to pick up the children's school books. Once inside the store, throngs of people – mostly middle-aged witches – stood in line to get the autograph of Gilderoy Lockhart, a media-hungry adventurer/author who just happened to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts.
Ron was a little surprised to see Hermione Granger standing in line, looking all moony-eyed at Lockhart, but a greater surprise came when he saw the last two people he'd ever expect to see associating with one another walking around a large bookshelf together: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!
A sudden gasp from beside him told Ron that he wasn't the only one to spot the two Slytherins. He looked over and, sure enough, Ginny stood next to him, cauldron full of books in hand, gazing wide-eyed at Harry in a manner similar to the way Hermione Granger was looking at Lockhart.
"I can't believe your dad did that to Uncle Vernon," Harry was saying to Malfoy as the two of them came into listening distance of Ron and Ginny. The two Slytherin boys hadn't yet noticed the Weasley children standing there.
"You need to learn to put Muggles in their place, Potter," Draco replied with a sneer, "If some fat Muggle like your uncle tried to lock me away in a room, I'd have hexed him into oblivion."
"What are you doing with him?" Ron asked Harry loudly, motioning with his head towards Malfoy.
"That's none of your business, Weasley!" Draco snapped, jumping in-between Harry and Ron, "What Potter does with his friends is none of your concern."
"Friends?!" Ron was shocked as he watched his counterpart's memory, "Since when are Harry and Malfoy friends?!"
"Harry," Ron began in a pleading voice, pushing the blonde Slytherin out of the way, a bit more roughly than necessary, "What about all the times Malfoy and his goons beat you up?"
"Is this true, Draco?" The four children looked up at the sound of a new voice being added to the commotion; a sinisterly silky voice belonging to Draco Malfoy's father. "Did you accost young Mr. Potter?"
"It was nothing, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said quickly, stepping up to Lucius, "Just some horseplay that got out of hand."
"Weasley wasn't there, Father," Draco threw in once Harry had covered for him, "So he has no idea what really happened."
"I see," Lucius said, turning his cold grey eyes on Ron, "Young Weasley…trying to stir up trouble for your betters; like father, like son."
"I'd hate to think what that means for your own son, Lucius," Arthur Weasley said, his voice dripping with venom as he walked up and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. Arthur glared hatefully at the other man who returned his glare with equal loathing.
"My son shall be raised in the lap of luxury, as befits a pureblood wizard of Malfoy lineage; while your brood," Lucius said with an oily sort of sneer as he reached into Ginny's cauldron and pulled out her tattered Transfiguration textbook, "Continue to linger in poverty, as befits a family of blood traitors."
There was a loud thud of metal caused by Ginny's cauldron full of books hitting the ground as Arthur lunged at Lucius knocking him to the floor as both men toppled over a rack of books. Inspired by his father, Ron threw himself at Draco Malfoy and the two of them were soon wrestling on the floor next to their fathers, throwing punches back-and-forth.
Harry looked a bit guilty at what was going on as he helped Ginny pick up the books that had spilled out of her cauldron. Ginny, meanwhile, merely gazed up at him adoringly with big doe eyes, making Harry look more than a bit uncomfortable.
In a heartbeat, the Malfoys and the Weasleys were forced to leave the bookshop. Mrs. Weasley looked quite indignant with her husband, and it wasn't hard to imagine that she would be giving him an earful quite soon.
"Mustn't forget your…book…little girl," Lucius said with a smirk, dropping Ginny's textbook back into her cauldron, "Having to replace it would surely break your father's fragile pocketbook."
"That's when he did it," Ron thought as he observed the scene playing out before him, "That's when Malfoy slipped Ginny the Tom Riddle diary! Bloody bastard!"
Mr. Weasley looked ready to attack Mr. Malfoy once more, but an angry glare from his wife had Arthur rooted to his spot, shooting a death glare at his longtime nemesis. Malfoy smirked at the sight of Arthur being cowed by his wife before turning and gathering Harry and Draco before him.
"Come Draco…Mr. Potter…I do believe it's time we bought those new racing brooms you've been clamoring for," Malfoy said loudly as they left.
"What good's it going to do if we can't get on the team, Father?" Draco grumbled in a typically spoiled manner.
"You never know what the future holds, Draco," Lucius commented as they faded into the crowd of Diagon Alley shoppers.
Harry followed the Malfoys closely, but cast a backwards glance at Ron and his family, looking a bit regretful for what had happened. Ron scowled and turned away, not wanting anything to do with Harry and his new friend.
"I really do hate those Malfoys," Ron thought as the memory started to fade and a new one began, "It was nice watching Dad paste old Lucius in the eye, though. I could watch that every day! I wonder if Dumbledore will let me keep that part of the memory…"
Another unfamiliar memory came upon him, and as soon as he saw that he was riding on the Hogwarts Express alongside Neville and Ginny, Ron wanted to cry foul. It seemed that all the cool things he had done since coming to Hogwarts – saving Hermione from a troll, beating a giant chess-set, flying a Ford Anglia all the way from London to the school – his counterpart from this world never even had the chance to do. Ron couldn't help thinking that "this poor bastard" never did anything notable.
"And you really let Malfoy have it, Ron?" Neville asked in a high, excited voice, absentmindedly running his hand down Trevor the toad's bumpy back, "Right there in the middle of Diagon Alley?"
"That's right, Nev," Ron said, beaming with pride, his second-hand rat, Scabbers, perched on his shoulder, "Right in the middle of Flourish and Blotts! I think I might have knocked a couple of his teeth out."
"Wow!" Neville exclaimed, looking at Ron with awe and admiration, "Wish I could have seen that!"
From across the compartment where she was furiously scribbling in some natty old book, Ginny scoffed, snorting in derision at Ron's boasting and Neville's unseemly, hero-worship.
"If you had, you'd have seen the lot of us getting chucked out of the shop; then you'd have seen our Mum yell at our Dad and then ground Ron for fighting!"
"Shut it, Ginny!" Ron snapped angrily, blushing at the mention of his punishment.
"He had to de-gnome the garden and muck out the hen house all by himself for the rest of the holiday," Ginny said in an annoyingly little sister sort of way.
Ron was so angry at her for revealing the details of his embarrassing (to him) punishment that he lunged at her – causing Scabbers to jump off his shoulder and cower on the seat next to Neville – and snatched the book out of her hand, intent on hiding it or possibly tossing it out the window out of a childish older brother style desire for revenge.
"Tom!!" Ginny screamed, looking frantic as Ron pulled the book from her grasp, "Give it back, Ron!!"
Ron and Neville exchanged a look, confused by Ginny's outburst and exclamation of the name "Tom". Ron looked down at the book in his hands and started to flip through it.
"Who's Tom?" Ron asked, looking at his little sister, "And what is this?"
"It's my diary, Ron!" the redheaded girl yelled hysterically, "Give it back!!"
"And who's Tom?" Ron asked again, shooting her a look, "He's not your boyfriend, is he Ginny? Merlin, you're too young to have a boyfriend!"
Without awaiting her answer or asking permission, Ron opened the diary he'd just confiscated from his sister and began flipping through it, looking for some clue as to who this Tom bloke was. All he found, however, were pages and pages of old, blank parchment…all were blank, except the first page which bore the inscription "T.M. Riddle".
"It's empty…except for some bloke's name," Ron said, stunned, flipping the book over, looking for some sort of explanation for the book to be blank when he'd seen his sister writing in, with his own two eyes. The cover carried a date from some fifty years ago, but other than that and the name on the first page there was absolutely nothing to the book.
"Give it back!!" Ginny yelled jumping at Ron and violently ripping the book from him.
Ron looked affronted and angry at Ginny's actions, and Neville looked more than a bit terrified. He didn't know Ginny Weasley very well, but the one time he'd seen her prior to today – at King's Cross Station, alongside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they picked up her brothers at the start of the summer holiday – she struck him as a very quiet, shy girl. This girl, however, was nowhere close to quiet and shy…at least not now.
"Who's T.M. Riddle, Ginny?" Ron asked sternly, glaring at her, "Is that this Tom bloke you were talking about? If that's his diary, what are you doing with it?"
"It's mine now!" she shouted, sounding every bit the petulant child, "So you leave it alone, Ron!"
"The bloody thing's fifty years old, Ginny; where did you get it?" Ron said, moving towards her and causing her to hide the diary behind her back so he couldn't get to it.
"Mum bought it for me when she got our school books," Ginny said huffily, folding her arms across her chest, "And since Mum got it for me, you have no business taking it from me!"
"But, Ginny, why would Mum buy you some manky old diary?" Ron asked, perplexed. Sure, a lot of the stuff his parents bought them was second-hand, but surely something like a diary they'd buy new…wouldn't they? "And hang on, Ginny…if that thing belonged to this Riddle bloke, then why is there no writing in it…and what happened to what you wrote in it?"
"I didn't write anything," Ginny lied unconvincingly, her cheeks tinged scarlet, "I was just pretending."
"Liar!" Ron snapped, moving over and trying to grab the book from behind her back, "Let me see it, Gin!"
"No, it's mine!" she yelled, kicking her brother in the shin, causing him to cry out in pain.
As he backed away from her for fear of another sudden attack, Ron gawped at his little sister like she was some sort of strange alien creature. "Ginny, what's gotten into you?!"
"Leave my diary alone!" his sister warned, shooting him an evil look.
"It's just a bloody diary!" Ron protested angrily, unaware of what she was getting so upset…and violent…over, "You haven't even written in it yet!"
"Maybe it's magic."
Neville's words had been spoken so softly and quietly that Ron and Ginny barely heard him, but they did, indeed, hear him, and when they did Ron looked at Neville as if he was a genius, while Ginny shrank away from them both, clutching the book tightly to her.
"Neville, you're right!" Ron exclaimed, looking over at his round-faced friend, "It could be magic, and it could be dangerous!!!"
"Dangerous?" Neville gulped.
"That's stupid!" Ginny snapped defensively, clutching the diary all the more tightly to her, "Books can't be dangerous!"
"Didn't you ever listen to Dad's stories about stuff the Ministry's confiscated?" Ron asked harshly, glaring at his sister, "There was a book that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And --…"
The sound of the door to the compartment sliding open cut Ron short and drew his attention to the four boys standing in the doorway, their blonde-haired leader swaggering into the compartment with a snide look on his face.
"Well, look what we have here," Malfoy said with a sneer, "Two Weasels and a Lardbottom!"
Two of the boys behind Malfoy – the large, gorilla-looking ones – chuckled at Malfoy's comment. The other boy – the dark-haired, bespectacled one – looked a bit uncomfortable with the confrontation he knew was coming.
"Sod off, Malfoy!!" Ron shouted stepping up to get into Malfoy's face, "Before I give you more of what you got in Diagon Alley!"
"You'll pay for that, you blood traitor!" the blonde Slytherin hissed, his cold, grey eyes glaring daggers at the freckle-faced boy in front of him, "Crabbe, Goyle…get him!"
Before Ron could react, Malfoy's two goons sprung into action; lumbering through the doorway and grabbing Ron, they hauled him bodily across the compartment and shoved him hard against the window. When he attempted to yell in protest, Crabbe shoved his forearm against Ron's throat, cutting him off with a choking gasp.
"Hey! Let him go!!" Neville yelled, jumping up and trying to come to his friend's aid. Goyle, however, grabbed Neville, and soon he too was shoved up against the window with a beefy forearm pressed against his windpipe.
"Get out of here," Ginny said, sounding as menacingly as an eleven-year-old girl could, storming across the compartment to get up in the Slytherin's face, "Or you'll regret it."
"Oooooh," mocked Malfoy, causing Crabbe and Goyle to guffaw stupidly, looking back over their shoulders to watch the scene unfold, "Do you hear that, lads? The Weaselette wants us to leave. We don't want to leave, do we?"
Crabbe and Goyle continued laughing in a thuggish manner, indicating that, no, they didn't want to leave just yet; they weren't through with their fun. Ron tried his best to break free of Crabbe's grasp but to no avail. He had to settle for glaring murderously at Malfoy and his two goons and at Harry Potter, who stood outside the compartment, uncomfortably watching the proceedings, doing nothing to put a stop to it.
"I'm warning you," Ginny said, still trying her best to sound threatening.
The threat, however, only made Malfoy laugh harder. "Warning me? No, I'm warning you! You and your family of blood-traitors better learn your place! You're a disgrace to purebloods everywh—AHHHHH!"
Malfoy cried out in pain as Ginny reared back and kicked him in the shin with even more anger and more force than she had when kicking Ron earlier. The Slytherin Second Year responded by pushing her away from him so hard that Ginny stumbled backward and fell to the floor, dropping her precious diary as she did.
The sneer on Malfoy's face, revealing the pride and pleasure he felt at knocking the younger girl down, faltered as he saw the book that had fallen from her grasp.
"Where did you get that book, you little thief?!" Malfoy barked, advancing towards the diary as if to grab for it.
"It's mine!" Ginny cried, diving onto the book and covering it with her small body.
"Liar!" Malfoy accused, standing over the redheaded girl, making her tremble in fear, "It's my father's! I've seen it in his…his library!" It was fairly obvious that Malfoy didn't want to reveal where he had really seen the book. "Wait 'til Father learns that your family is made up of thieves as well as Muggle-lovers! I bet he can convince the Minister to sack your fool-of-a-father!"
Ron had been struggling the entire time, trying to get free so he could help his sister, but at Malfoy's disparaging comments about his family, Ron re-doubled his efforts to get free. But it was no use; Crabbe held him in such a way that only the tips of his toes were touching the floor. He didn't have the leverage to break away. Ron looked to see if Neville was faring any better only to find his friend turning purple from the way Goyle held him off the floor by his neck.
"I didn't steal anything!" Ginny sobbed, no doubt afraid that her father would, indeed, lose his job because of her.
Malfoy's cold grey eyes sparkled with glee as he terrorized the youngest member of the family his own family hated the most. His gleeful expression disappeared quickly, however, as his newest "friend" decided to intervene.
"Draco, come on," Harry urged, stepping up and putting a hand on the blonde boy's shoulder, "The food trolley lady's coming; we need to go before we get in trouble."
"Coming to the Weasels' rescue, eh Potter?" Malfoy snapped, glaring at the black-haired boy, "What's the matter…is she your girlfriend?"
"It isn't like that and you know it, Draco," Harry said sternly, "Just grab your dad's book and let's go!"
Whether it was out of fear for her father losing her job or just awe at the fact that Harry Potter was touching her, Ginny didn't resist in the slightest when he crouched down and took the diary from her trembling fingers.
Ron's vengeful gaze was locked on Harry as he bent down to retrieve the book for fear that his former friend was going to hurt his sister. Harry was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins could not be trusted. The moment he touched the book, Ron noticed Harry stiffen slightly as though shocked by something. It lasted only a moment, and when it was over Harry looked perfectly normal.
"I've got the diary," Harry said to Malfoy, making his way out of the compartment without further ado, "Let's go, Draco."
"This isn't over," Draco threatened as he followed Harry out of the compartment.
Once the brains of the operation was gone, Crabbe and Goyle shoved Ron and Neville hard against one of the bench seats, causing them to lose their footing and collapse onto the bench; the two Slytherin gorillas then scurried out of the compartment after their leader.
"Alright there, Gin?" Ron asked, his voice a hoarse croaking murmur thanks to Crabbe's abuse of his windpipe. He knelt on the floor next to his sister and she immediately moved against him, crying on his shoulder.
"You were right," Ginny sobbed into Ron's maroon jumper, "You were right about Harry Potter."
"What the Hell was that?" Ron wondered at Harry's momentarily odd reaction to picking up the diary, "Did the book possess Harry the way it did my world's Ginny?"
Ron was left pondering that very question as the memory faded around him and a new one swam into focus. It was a variation on one of his own memories from early in his Second Year. Unsurprisingly, Neville was right beside him, as he had been in so many other memories.
"What a phony!" Ron grumbled as he walked away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Second Year Gryffindors had just finished their first class with Gilderoy Lockhart. The narcissistic D.A.D.A. professor had just unleashed a host of Cornish pixies on the class and then run off once they got out of hand. Ron was absentmindedly rubbing the spot on his ear where one of the vicious little pixies had bitten him. "Can you believe him? Setting those things loose and then scarpering off!"
"Be glad they didn't hang you from a chandelier," Neville said, blushing a bit, "Why is it always me?"
"Just lucky, I reckon," Ron quipped, slapping Neville on the back, drawing a half-hearted chuckle out of his friend.
"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience!" a familiar voice called from behind them.
Ron and Neville turned around and came face-to-face with Hermione Granger. Ron rolled his eyes and snorted derisively at her, while Neville smiled awkwardly at the bushy-haired girl, as if he knew this was going to end badly.
"Hands-on?!" Ron scoffed, mocking her and her I'm-better-than-you-are attitude, "He's a complete fake! He didn't have a clue what he was doing!"
"Rubbish!" Hermione shot back, her brown eyes flashing dangerously, "You've read his books – look at all the things he's done –…"
"What he says he's done!" Ron snapped.
"Scoff all you want," Hermione replied, pushing past him, her nose in the air, "But I, for one, believe him."
"You fancy him!" Ron laughed accusingly, "I thought only old witches, like my Mum, fancied Lockhart!
"You're just jealous!" Hermione rounded on Ron angrily, stomping her foot for emphasis, "He's done so many great things and you will never amount to anything!"
Ron's mouth dropped open and he gaped at Hermione, stunned by her accusation. Having sensed victory in their argument, apparently, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed off towards her next class.
"She was out of line," Neville said, coming up and putting a hand on Ron's shoulder, "Don't let her get you down. We need to go before we're late…"
Ron and Neville resumed their journey to their next class, but their pace was decidedly slow and measured; the wind had most assuredly been taken out of Ron's sails and he was in no hurry to reach his next class where he would once again be in the presence of Hermione Granger.
"Bloody prat deserved to be taken down a peg," Ron grumbled, thinking of his young counterpart and the way he'd mistreated this world's Hermione, "Still…to see her defending that manky git, Lockhart…completely mental, that."
Ron's vision began to blur and soon the image of the stonework of the hallway faded completely and was replaced by blue skies and the green grass of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Ron found himself walking down to the pitch, early in the morning, with his brothers, Fred and George, the Gryffindor team's Beaters.
"Now, remember, Ronnikins," Fred began, using the nickname that always infuriated his little brother, "Wood is a bit paranoid…"
"So mind yourself, little brother…" George added, picking up where his twin brother left off.
"And don't do anything dodgy…" Fred continued, winking at his twin.
"That'll make Wood think you're a spy," George finished.
"I'm not a spy!" Ron said, insulted by such an insinuation, "All I want to do is watch you blokes practice."
"You know you're not a spy…" Fred said as they reached the pitch.
"And we know you're not a spy…" George continued.
"But Wood's a bit mental, you see," Fred explained as Ron prepared to take a seat in the bleachers, "And he takes his job as Quidditch captain seriously…"
"Too seriously…" George added.
"Too seriously," Fred agreed, "And he doesn't want anyone from another House getting a look at the plays he spent all summer working on."
"Especially the Slytherins," George added, once more, as if to explain their captain's almost obsessive desire for secrecy.
"Especially the Slytherins," Fred agreed, nodding, "Since we play them next."
"It's going to be tough hiding things from the Slytherins," Ron said, pointing at a spot over Fred and George's shoulders, "Since they're already here."
Fred and George turned around and sure enough, there in the middle of the Quidditch pitch were a group of boys dressed in green and silver robes and there was Oliver Wood arguing with their leader.
"What the bloody Hell are they doing here?" Ron asked as he glared at the mob of green-robed Quidditch players across the field. The animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin was legendary, and Ron Weasley seemed more than willing to participate in fomenting the conflict between the two Houses.
"I don't know, but Wood doesn't look happy," Fred said as they continued toward the confrontation going on in front of them.
"Which means we're not going to be happy," George added, knowing that whatever upset the Gryffindor captain could not be good for the Gryffindor team as a whole.
The three redheads rushed over to where the rest of the Gryffindor team was squaring off against the Slytherin team. Oliver Wood was face-to-face with Marcus Flint, scowling as the somewhat trollish boy pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment.
"Ah, but I've got a specially signed note from Professor Snape," the leering Slytherin was saying as the Weasleys arrived in the middle of the confrontation. Flint then began reading the note aloud to his archrival, "'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Chaser and Seeker.'"
"You've got new players?" Wood said, distracted by the pronouncement from the Potions Master, "Where?"
Out from behind the five larger boys came two smaller, younger boys; one had blonde hair and a pale, pointed face, and the other had dark hair and glasses. It was Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
"There they are, together again," Ron said to himself as he watched the memory play out, "Thick as thieves."
"Hey, Ron," Fred said, nudging his little brother, "Isn't that Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Yeah, the one you beat up in Flourish and Blotts?" George added, grinning.
Ron nodded, causing the Gryffindor team to chuckle at the image of the pointy-faced young Slytherin getting what-for in the middle of the Diagon Alley bookshop. Draco, however, didn't find it the least bit funny and began scowling and glaring murderously at the youngest Weasley boy.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint said, ignoring the implied insult aimed at his newest Chaser. Knowing where their captain was heading, the rest of the Slytherin players started smiling smugly, "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."
All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly-polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.
"Very latest model; only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own, "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," Flint said as he smiled nastily at Fred and George who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives, "Sweeps the board with them."
None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold, grey eyes were reduced to slits.
"Oh look," said Flint, "A field invasion."
Coming across the field, toward the assemblage of Quidditch players…and Ron…was Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he looked angrily at his best friend.
"What is she doing here?" Ron asked Neville, nodding towards Hermione.
"I couldn't help it," Neville said, blushing, "She was in the common room when I came down from the dormitory. She asked me where I was going so early, and when I told her I was coming to watch Quidditch practice, she just started following me."
"I have just as much right as you do to watch the Gryffindor team practice their Quidditch," Hermione stated, sounding completely out-of-place talking about Quidditch, but still managing to do so in a huff.
"You don't even like Quidditch!" Ron said accusingly, "Why don't you just go back into the castle?!"
"Yes, Mudblood," Malfoy said with a hateful sneer, "Why don't you just run along back to the castle?"
The Slytherin team – with the exception of Harry, who looked rather confused – laughed at Draco's comment which made the pale, blonde boy's sneer turn into a malicious grin. The Gryffindors, meanwhile – again, with the exception of Hermione, who looked just as confused as Harry – became indignant.
"How dare you!" Alicia Spinnet yelled.
Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to keep Fred and George from jumping on him. The rest of the Gryffindors were up-in-arms as well, and it looked as though a riot was about to break out amongst the two Quidditch teams.
"I'd expect something so disgusting to come out of your foul mouth, Malfoy," Ron said, moving around Flint to get a look at the blonde boy who was doing his best to hide from the wrath of the Gryffindors.
"What do you care, Weasley?" Malfoy replied with his usual snide smirk, "You don't even like Granger. I've seen the fights you have; I'm surprised you haven't called her a Mudblood yet!"
"It doesn't matter if I hate her," Ron said angrily, "I'd never call anybody that…not even a hateful little rat like you!"
Before Malfoy could respond to Ron's comments, the redheaded boy turned his attention to Harry who was standing just behind Draco, still looking a bit confused…and more than a trifle scared that the situation was going to get way out of hand.
"Nice choice of friends, Harry," Ron snapped at the dark-haired boy, "I can see how a bigot like Malfoy is a much better friend to have around than someone like me."
"Mind your tongue, Weasley," Malfoy hissed, reaching for his wand.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Ron," Harry said, sounding more than a bit put-out by Ron's comments, "You don't even know me anymore, Ron, so just butt out and leave me alone."
Ron looked at Harry, stunned for a second by the Slytherin boy's bluntness. His look of shock quickly changed, however, to one of anger and Ron turned on his heel and stormed off back towards the castle.
"Ron…wait up!" Neville called, running to try and keep up with the angry redhead, huffing and puffing as he did. Ron stopped abruptly, giving Neville the chance to catch him up, "Don't…let…him get to you!" Neville blurted out around gasps for air.
"I could care less about Draco Malfoy and Harry bloody Potter," Ron snapped, turning to face his hyperventilating friend. When he did, he saw the bushy-haired Hermione Granger rushing to catch up to the both of them. He glared angrily at her and shouted at her as soon as she came near them, "What do you want?!"
"What did he mean?" she asked, looking at Ron, "What did Malfoy mean by 'Mudblood'?"
"You mean, you don't know?" Ron scoffed, laughing derisively, "I thought you knew everything!"
"I never claimed to know everything," Hermione corrected him, haughtily, "You're the one who's always calling me a know-it-all. So what does it mean? Obviously, it's something bad by the way everyone reacted back there."
"Mudblood is a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born – like you," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest as he explained why she ought to feel insulted instead of merely curious, "It's about the most insulting thing that albino rat could think of to call you."
"Some wizards think they're better than everyone else because they're purebloods," Neville said, finally catching his breath, "Wizards like the Malfoys. It's a really disgusting thing to call someone."
"It means you have 'dirty blood'," Ron continued, still scowling, "That you have 'common blood' and aren't deserving of being a witch or wizard."
"It's stupid, really," said Neville, "Look at me…I'm a pureblood and you're much better at magic than I am! Ron, too, probably."
"Speak for yourself, Neville," Ron shot back, eyeing his best friend sternly, causing the round-faced boy to quail and look apologetic.
"That explains why Malfoy thought you'd be calling me a Mudblood," Hermione said, finally speaking up now that she was brought up to speed, "You hate me at least as much as Malfoy does; so go on, then…say it. Call me a Mudblood."
Ron snorted at Hermione and smirked sardonically at her, "First of all, Granger, we hate each other! Second of all, my family are blood-traitors, so the Malfoys of this world hate me just as much as they hate you! And thirdly, I wouldn't call you a Mudblood even if you were a stinking Slytherin like Malfoy and Potter!"
With that said, Ron turned back around and made his way off towards the castle. Before he got out of earshot, however, Ron was pretty sure he heard Hermione asking Neville what a 'blood-traitor' was.
"Well, I hate to say this," thought Ron as the memory started to fade, "But I was almost afraid that Malfoy was right, and that this ruddy bastard would call Hermione a Mudblood just as readily as that albino ferret would; nice to see that we share the same disgust for that word…even if this Ron Weasley is still a right tosser."
The memory of "the Mudblood Incident" faded away into nothingness and in the span of half-a-second, a new memory formed in Ron's mind's-eye, where he found his young counterpart racing down stone steps to the dank dungeons beneath Hogwarts castle.
Ron rounded the corner, entering the dungeon corridor leading to the Potions classroom; he was running late, so his temper was already raised, knowing Snape would likely deduct House points for his tardiness, as well as slap him with a detention. So, what he saw when he entered the corridor had his blood practically boiling.
Standing before him was his sister, Ginny, and Harry Potter; Ginny had Harry pressed up against the wall with her fists gripping twin handfuls of his robes, tears pouring from her eyes as she pleaded with him.
"Please, Harry; I want my diary back. Can't you please give it back?"
"It isn't yours, Ginny," Harry said in a voice that completely lacked compassion, "You don't belong down here, so you'd better run along before something happens to you."
"It was mine for almost a whole month," Ginny cried, continuing to plead with the Slytherin boy, "I wrote in it every day! Please…I want Tom back!!"
"Well, Tom doesn't want you back," Harry said, harshly, pushing her away from him, "He's found someone better to communicate with; someone who isn't a Muggle-loving blood-traitor!"
Having seen and heard enough, Ron intervened. Pulling out his wand and pointing it at the dark-haired boy, Ron yelled "Recedibus"; a bright flash flew from his wand and hit Harry in the chest, and an unseen force stopped him in his tracks and pushed him up against the wall, holding him there.
"Stay away from my sister, Potter!" Ron growled as he strode up to the bespectacled boy, "I'm only going to warn you once." Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but just settled for glaring at his redheaded assailant.
"Ron!" Ginny yelled, slapping her brother in the arm, "What are you doing?!"
"What's it look like, Ginny?" Ron yelled back, "I'm protecting you!"
"I don't need your protection!" she all-but screamed, tears still running down her freckled cheeks, "I was just talking to him."
"Yeah, about this bloody Tom Riddle bloke!" her brother retorted, glaring at her, "I don't know who he is, or why you're so obsessed with him, but if you don't stop this rubbish, I'm going to owl Mum and Dad about it!"
"Don't you dare, Ron!!" Ginny screamed, turning and running away from her brother, back the way he had come. She turned to face him long enough to yell a warning at him before rounding the corner and leaving his line of sight, "Stay out of my life, Ron!"
Before Ron could chase after her, though, there was a sudden sharp, nasally sneer from behind him, "Weasley!!"
Ron turned around to see the annoyed-yet-greasy-looking countenance of Professor Severus Snape barreling down on him. His stringy black hair hung limply from his head, and his pointed goatee quivered a bit as he walked; both brought the paleness of his sallow face into sharp relief.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's detention!" Snape hissed as he came to a stop next to Ron, grabbing the back of his robes as if he planned to drag him away.
"What? What for?!" Ron bellowed, forgetting, for a second, who he was addressing.
"Twenty-five points for being late to class," Snape drawled, smiling spitefully at the red-haired boy, "And another twenty-five points for creating such a commotion in the hall that I had to stop teaching and come out here to shut you up."
"And the detention?" Ron growled, folding his arms across his chest. He knew better than to expect a fair shake from Professor Snape; he was such a slimy git.
"I doubt that Potter, here, did this to himself," Snape replied in a smarmy tone, "Dueling in the halls is strictly prohibited; you're lucky you're not being expelled."
"He deserved it! He was attacking my sister," Ron said, giving a somewhat skewed version of what happened.
"Ah, yes…Miss Weasley," Snape smiled like the cat-that-ate-the-canary, "Thank you so much for reminding me. Be sure to inform your sister that she, too, has cost Gryffindor fifty points for being late and disrupting my class."
"But that's outrageous!" Ron exclaimed, causing Snape's smile to become a predatory sneer.
"Would you prefer one hundred points each?" the oily professor asked, his voice full of menace, "Now, get to class; and when your spell wears off, Potter can join us."
"You're not going to help him?" Ron asked, shooting Snape a confused look. The Potions Master had always seemed to hate Harry, despite him being a Slytherin; and this just seemed to be further proof that he did, indeed, despise the Potter boy.
"If Potter can face down the Dark Lord and survive, then counteracting your spell should be no great feat. Now, go!" Snape roughly pushed Ron down the hall, sending him on his way to the Potions classroom.
Ron looked back over his shoulder one last time before joining the rest of his class in Potions; he watched for a few moments as Snape sneered nastily at Potter before turning with a flourish of black robes and making his way back towards his classroom, prompting Ron to hurry inside and take a seat.
"Can't believe I cursed Harry," Ron thought as the memory started to fade, "Well…not me…I mean…this Ron…but still…what is up with Harry? Did Riddle's diary get to him?"
Once again Ron's vision blurred and then came into sharp focus as one memory shifted into another. This new memory found Ron…or, rather, his young counterpart…walking down the marble staircase towards the Great Hall. Christmas decorations were up, though there were far too many students around for this to be the Christmas holiday.
Neville, as usual, was by his side and so many other students – all of them Second Years – were making their way towards the castle's dining hall that Ron thought this must be a memory of something that had happened at meal time. He was wrong.
"Do you think this will really help, Ron?" Neville asked nervously as they made their way down the steps.
"I doubt it, Nev," Ron scoffed, "Lockhart's a poncey git; and I don't think whatever he could teach us about dueling would help us against whoever petrified Colin and Filch's cat."
"Do you think they're really going to close the school?" Neville looked more than just nervous, now; worry lines creased his forehead. It was a look that was reflected in Ron's own face.
"Merlin, I hope not!" Ron averred, running his fingers through his hair, "I hope they can find the Chamber of Secrets before the ruddy Heir of Slytherin attacks again."
As the mass of students entered the Great Hall, Ron could see that this memory that he had slipped into was, in fact, Gilderoy Lockhart's Dueling Club. Professors Lockhart and Snape put on a slight dueling demonstration which quickly left Lockhart laid out by a well-aimed Disarming Charm from Professor Snape.
With the demonstration over with, the students were split up into pairs to practice amongst themselves. As the dueling practice commenced, chaos reigned amongst the pairs of students as spells were fired off left-and-right.
When the dust had settled from the initial round of practice dueling, several of the Second Year students were battered, bruised, and bloodied – and poor Neville lay on the ground alongside Justin Finch-Fletchley, asphyxiated by whatever noxious green cloud Neville had managed to summon.
"Perhaps I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart said as he surveyed the results of the students' first practice duel, "Let's have a volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you --…"
"Bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. You'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Perhaps we should try a pair from my own House; Malfoy and Potter, perhaps?"
"Excellent idea," Lockhart said with a smile, gesturing for Draco and Harry to move to the middle of the Great Hall where everyone could see them.
However, before they could take their place, Malfoy leaned in and whispered something in Harry's ear, all the while keeping his cold grey eyes locked on Ron. Harry must have liked whatever it was that Draco said to him, because he nodded his head as a small smile tugged at his lips.
"What the bloody Hell are they up to?" Ron wondered as he watched the two Slytherins sharing some sort of secret.
Ron became even more curious when Malfoy crossed over to Snape and whispered something to him, as well. The black eyes of the Potions Master seemed to light up and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were suppressing a malicious smile.
"Mr. Malfoy has had an…interesting…idea," Snape said with a leering smile, taking his time to drag out his words, no doubt for dramatic effect, "Perhaps it would be more…educational…to see how two different Houses are progressing in spell usage; Slytherin against Gryffindor…for instance."
"Wonderful!" Lockhart exclaimed and began looking at the assembled group of Gryffindor Second Years, "Who shall it be then, eh? How about the brilliant Miss Granger?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of…Weasley," Snape sneered, looking at the red-haired boy, "No doubt he and Mr. Potter will make an interesting pair."
"Very well, then; Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley…if you will, please…" Lockhart motioned for Ron to move to the center of the room.
At Professor Lockhart's prompting, Ron and Harry each made their way to the center of the Great Hall to a cacophony of cheers, boos, and catcalls from the various other assembled Second Years.
Malfoy was looking on with an expectant smirk, as if he were waiting for Ron to be hexed into oblivion. A quick glance at the Gryffindor portion of the room found Neville looking nervously at Ron with his fingers crossed.
"Leave it to Neville to show such confidence," Ron thought, amused.
"Now, remember proper dueling etiquette," Lockhart said to the two boys in front of him, "Bow to your opponent, and then assume the proper combative posture."
Neither Ron nor Harry wanted to bow to the other, so each boy gave a slight, curt nod of the head before quickly adopting the customary wand-out dueling stance. Lockhart smiled winningly at the boys before addressing them again.
"On the count of three," he went on to say, holding up three fingers to punctuate his statement, "Cast your spells – to disarm, only. Ready? One…two…--…"
Before Lockhart could finish his three-count, something was spoken in a drawling whisper, and a bright light flashed across the room and hit Ron in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards a few paces.
"Hey!" Neville yelled, his outrage overcoming his usual shyness.
"That was completely unfair!" Hermione Granger shouted, glaring at the laughing Slytherins across the room.
"Foul! Foul!" Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan shouted together.
"Sorry about that," Malfoy laughed from his position several feet behind Harry, "My wand got away from me."
When the spell had hit him, Ron felt as though he were hit in the head with a saucepan – a sensation he had become familiar with one afternoon at the Burrow when he swore at his twin brothers in front of his mother. He recovered from the spell quickly, though, and ignoring his actual opponent, Ron turned his attention to the wickedly grinning rat-faced blonde.
"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, motioning with his wand towards the Slytherin troublemaker. A jet of green light flew out of his wand and hit Malfoy, knocking him to the ground and wiping the smile off his face.
"Hey!!" Harry yelled, sounding even more outraged than Neville had been when Malfoy had blindsided Ron, "Rictusempra!"
A blast of silver light jetted out of Harry's wand and hit Ron in the stomach, doubling him over and making him wheeze as he tried to catch his breath. Ron then began laughing uncontrollably, as he felt as though a thousand fingers were tickling him all at the same time.
The assembled Slytherins behind Harry began laughing at Ron and cheering for Harry, but soon their cheers turned to sounds of disgust and revulsion as, with a loud, wet, retching noise, Malfoy vomited up a large slug that fell from his mouth and hit the dining hall floor with a slimy plop! Malfoy's slug-vomiting provided enough of a distraction that Ron was able to recover from his bought of tickle-induced laughter and cast another spell at Harry.
"Tarantallegra!" Ron yelled, aiming his wand at Harry's knees. The dark-haired Slytherin immediately began dancing about, his legs moving rapidly in some sort of quickstep.
"Stop! Stop!!" Lockhart yelled as things got out of hand. He moved between Ron and Harry, looking at them and somehow scolding them while still flashing them his winning smile, "I said disarm only! And Mr. Malfoy, don't think your interference will go unpunished. I'd say a night's detention helping me answer my fan mail ought to do."
"I'll discipline my own students, if you don't mind," Snape said, leveling his cold, icy gaze at Lockhart. He then turned his attention to Harry, "Finite Incantatem!" The spell affecting Harry ceased and he immediately stopped dancing.
"As for you, Weasley," Snape continued, now turning his attention to Ron, "I'd say a week's detention should help teach you to attack innocent students."
"What?!" Ron exclaimed incredulously, "That wanker attacked me first!"
"And twenty-five points from Gryffindor for language," Snape added, sneering smugly at the redhead, "Have you anything else to say, Weasley?"
There was a chorus of outraged voices coming from the Gryffindor side of the room, but Ron said nothing, merely setting his jaw and glaring at the Slytherin Potions Master. Once he was sure the hotheaded boy had nothing more to say, Snape grabbed Malfoy by the arm and escorted him out of the Great Hall, the sounds of retching and wet plops following them as they left the dining hall.
"That greasy-haired git!" Ron growled as the memory started to fade to black. He had no love for the Snape in his own universe, and it was obvious that the Potions Master was a universal constant – he was a biased arse in either universe. "And that manky little beard makes him look like even more of a git!"
When the darkness cleared, Ron was once again ensconced in a new memory. It was night, and the castle was dark and relatively quiet. The quiescence, however, did nothing to soothe the bitterness of his young counterpart as the memory unfolded.
"Bloody Snape and his barmy detentions," Ron groused as he made his way along the Second Floor corridor towards one of many suits of armor he had been ordered to clean – without the aid of magic, using only a toothbrush and a bottle of Polishing Potion.
The Potions Master seemed to take great joy in assigning Ron detentions, whether something was his fault or not. This particular detention was a perfect example of Professor Snape's unfair punishment practices.
They had been brewing Pepper-Up Potion in Snape's class, and as usual Neville was Ron's partner. Ron had gone off to the supply cupboard for some dried fairy spleen, and while he was gone, Malfoy had managed to slip some blowfly eggs into Neville's cauldron; the potion promptly exploded.
Neville had lost twenty-five points for Gryffindor, and would be in the hospital wing for the rest of the week while his nose grew back. And since Neville was in no condition to serve a detention, Ron received a week's worth, both to take Neville's place – since they were partners – and for not playing close attention to what was being placed in his partner's cauldron. Malfoy, on the other hand, had gotten off with a mild scolding.
"Try not to blow Longbottom's nose off next time, Mr. Malfoy," Snape had said. That wasn't even so much a scolding as it was poorly disguised encouragement.
"Stupid ruddy bat," Ron grumbled, cursing Snape, "I'd like to blow his nose off!"
Ron had just reached the suit of armor he was supposed to scrub clean when something else caught his attention. Down the hall, a door opened and Harry Potter came walking out into the hallway, looking around him suspiciously, as if he were worried that someone might see him.
This may have been due to the fact that the door he had just come through led to the girls' lavatory. Ron smirked devilishly when he realized where Harry had come from, and he couldn't resist the urge to wind the Slytherin up.
"Do all the Slytherin blokes use the girls' loo, or is that just your little secret, Potter?"
Harry turned on his heels to face Ron, glaring at the Gryffindor boy now that he realized he was there. He caught sight of the toothbrush and cleaning potion Ron was holding, and his angry glare turned into a wicked smirk worth of Malfoy.
"I didn't realize Dumbledore hired a new janitor," Harry joked nastily. Almost imperceptibly, Harry began tucking a beat-up old book into the pocket of his robes. "Enjoying your detention this week, Weasley? I'd have thought by this point you'd just stop coming to Potions altogether, just so you could avoid even the chance of getting detention."
"Not all of us are willing to just roll over and give in to the Slytherins," Ron countered, folding his arms across his chest.
"Is that what you think I did?" Harry asked archly.
"You tell me," Ron said smugly.
"You do realize I am a Slytherin," Harry replied, "Or are you so thick that you forgot?"
"I didn't forget!" Ron assured him, losing his temper a bit when Harry called him thick, "I just seem to recall you being Malfoy's whipping boy last year, and this year you're his best mate!"
"That really isn't any of your business, is it?" Harry retorted, his eyes flashing angrily. For a second, the torchlight in the corridor must have played oddly against Harry's glasses, because it seemed as if his green eyes had turned red, "I was sorted into Slytherin; I could either whinge about that, or accept my lot in life and learn how to get along as a Slytherin."
"Well, congratulations, Harry," Ron said scowling, "You've done a great job of becoming a Draco Malfoy clone."
"I told you before to leave me alone, Ron," Harry replied, imitating Ron's use of his own first name, "You don't know me; you don't know what I'm capable of."
Without another word, Harry turned and made his way down the corridor, around a corner, and out of sight. Ron stood there for several moments, watching the way that the dark-haired boy went, but eventually turned back to the job at hand: polishing yet another suit of armor.
"Stupid Snape and his stupid detentions," Ron grumbled.
Ron was so wrapped up in cleaning the suit of armor and cursing the school's Potions Master that he didn't realize that he wasn't alone in the hallway until he heard a hissing noise behind him.
Looking up, Ron caught the reflection of something large in the breastplate of the suit of armor he had been polishing. The reflective surface of the armor distorted the image of whatever loomed behind him, but the eyes were distinct; so distinct that as soon as his own blue eyes met the reflection of those yellow eyes, everything went black.
"What the Hell…?!" Ron called out as darkness engulfed him. Had he…or rather his counterpart…just been attacked by the Basilisk? Ron could hardly believe any of this. It was all so daunting; so overwhelming. Did Harry do this? All signs seemed to point that way. And what was Harry doing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom carrying Riddle's diary? Was he down in the Chamber of Secrets? "This is all so bloody confusing!!"
When the darkness faded, and Ron found himself thrust into yet another memory; one that found him lying in bed looking up at a cracked white ceiling. There was a smell in the air that made him think of Greenhouse Three where they'd had Herbology classes throughout most of the year. He started to sit up, and suddenly Neville was there, smiling broadly at him.
"Ron!! You're back!!" Neville gushed, jumping up and down, squeezing his toad, Trevor, in a manner that made the poor amphibian's eyes bulge even more than usual, "The Mandrake Draught worked just like they said it would! Welcome back!!"
"What am I doing in the hospital wing, Neville?" Ron asked, looking around at the white-painted walls that, now that he was sitting up instead of lying back, he readily recognized.
"Oh, right! You wouldn't know, would you?" Neville blushed embarrassed that he was going on and on about something his friend was still in-the-dark about, "You were petrified."
"I was --…bloody Hell, the eyes!!" Ron exclaimed, recalling the last thing he remembered before everything had gone black.
"Better me than Hermione," Ron sighed, thinking back to his own Second Year and the horror of seeing his best friend lying in a hospital bed, stiff as stone, cold, unbreathing. It was something he never wanted to see again.
"Mind your language and your yelling, Mr. Weasley!" Ron's outburst drew an irritated retort from the school matron, causing him to quail slightly.
"What happened, Neville?"
"Well, Mr. Filch found you in the Second Floor corridor, lying on the floor near a suit of armor…next to your broken wand," Neville explained, backing away slightly, knowing what was coming next.
"My wand!" Ron yelled, ignoring the school nurse's reprimand, "My Mum is going to kill me. That wand was my brother, Charlie's old wand."
"The wand was rubbish anyway," Ron quipped, thinking back to how he'd broken his when he crashed his father's flying car into the Whomping Willow.
"I saved the pieces for you, if it'll help," Neville said shyly, "I put them in your trunk."
"Thanks, Neville," Ron said with a half-smile. It wouldn't help, but it was a nice gesture; and maybe, just maybe, his mother would be too happy that he was actually alive to scold him too much for having gotten the old wand broken. "Now, finish telling me what happened…"
"Right…so, you were petrified, and they brought you up here to wait for the Mandrakes to mature enough to make the potion that could wake you up. Professor Sprout was brilliant; she --…"
"How long was I out for, Neville?" Ron asked, looking around. It had been the middle of January the last he knew, and the sky was grayish white and desolate, but outside now, the sky was blue with large puffy white clouds that reminded Ron of a heaping plate of mash; so much so that his stomach gave an almighty growl, alerting everyone within earshot as to its emptiness.
"A few months," Neville said, looking around nervously. He knew his friend was hotheaded, and he wasn't sure how Ron would react to the news that he'd been lying in a hospital bed like a statue for nearly half-a-year.
"Months?!" Ron yelled, his eyes going wide. He startled Neville so much that he nearly dropped his toad, "What day is it?!"
"It's the fourteenth of June, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, coming over to examine him, "And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop being so loud. Not everyone has awakened yet."
"June?!" Ron's exclamation was made in the louder whisper Neville had ever heard, "I missed six months of classes?"
"Afraid so," Neville said bashfully, "Exams, too."
"Wicked!" Ron smiled.
"Lucky blighter," Ron chuckled.
In no time, Ron was granted a clean bill of health by Madam Pomfrey and he and Neville were shooed out of the hospital wing so the nurse could tend to her other patients who were due to wake from their "slumber" any time now. The two Gryffindors made their way down towards the Great Hall, as the Leaving Feast would be starting soon.
"So did they find the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked, once they were clear of the hospital wing and his outbursts were less likely to get him scolded, "Did they find the Heir of Slytherin?"
"I don't know about the Heir," Neville said as they exited the Fourth Floor corridor and began the trek downstairs to the dining hall, "But Harry Potter found the Chamber of Secrets!"
"Potter?!" Ron exclaimed, stopping mid-stride, "You're joking! Where is it?!"
"No one will say, of course," the round-faced boy replied, shrugging, "I reckon Professor Dumbledore doesn't want anyone else going in. But Potter found it and stopped whatever was petrifying people."
"Did they say what it was?" Ron asked, understandably curious as the memory of those yellow eyes flashed to the front of his mind.
"Something called a basilisk," Neville said with a shrug, "Nobody but Potter actually saw it."
"What's a basilisk?" Ron asked, shooting a confused look at Neville who shrugged again. Neither boy had noticed that they were no longer alone on the stairs until a new voice rang out.
"A basilisk is a giant poisonous snake whose gaze can kill," Hermione Granger rattled off as she scurried to catch up to the boys, after overhearing their conversation, "They are only controllable by Parselmouths and can grow to be very, very old."
"How do you know that?" Ron asked, shooting a disgruntled look at the bushy-haired girl over his shoulder.
"I read about it in a book," Hermione said, her chin in the air defiantly.
"Yeah? Well, Miss Know-It-All," Ron said, once again displaying his dislike for the girl, "If its gaze can kill, then how come none of us died?"
"I don't know," she replied, looking down at her feet, "The book didn't say. I'm sure there's some sort of explanation…perhaps the basilisk didn't look directly at you, or --…"
"Who cares," Ron cut across her, waving a dismissive hand at the girl, "All I care about is that I'm alive."
"You should care!" she snapped, "You're not curious about how you managed to survive something that should have killed you?"
"No, I'm not," Ron stated flatly, "But feel free to run along to the library to figure it out for yourself!"
Huffing at the ill-tempered redhead and stomping her foot angrily, Hermione turned on her heel and made her way back up the stairs, away from the two boys. Neville sighed and shook his head as he watched the girl retreat.
"What?" Ron asked, shooting a disgruntled look at Neville.
"Nothing," Neville said, shaking his head tiredly.
"Anyway, back to the basilisk," Ron said, resuming his journey down the stairs, "Did they say what happened to it?"
"It's dead now, according to Potter," Neville replied, falling into step next to Ron once more, "Said he blasted it to bits with his wand."
"Why is it that I don't believe this Harry actually killed it?" Ron growled inwardly, as he watched the memory play out, "The real Harry needed Gryffindor's sword to kill it. I can't believe this one was able to do it with a wand."
"Well, bloody good for Potter," Ron said, sourly, "Guess he's the hero of the day, yeah?"
"Pretty much," Neville said, nodding vigorously, "Slytherin won the House Cup thanks to him."
"Those bloody tossers!" Ron exclaimed in aggravation, "That's two years in a row!"
"The whole lot of them have been unbearable for months," Neville said sadly, "Caught Crabbe and Goyle trying to boil Trevor in a cauldron during a Potions class last month. Snape took away twenty points for me having a live animal in class…then he threatened to dissect Trevor and use him for potion ingredients!"
"Ruddy good-for-nothing Slytherins," Ron grumbled.
"Actually, Weasel, we're good for something."
As they reached the bottom of the marble staircase in the castle's entrance hall, Ron and Neville ran into four of the last people they'd ever want to see: Potter, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were leaning against the stone wall, as if waiting for someone.
"Seems the Slytherins are good enough to save the school and all the students in it," Malfoy said, grinning smugly, "So maybe you and your fat friend should show us some respect and tell my friend Potter, here, thank you for saving your worthless lives."
Ron moved towards Malfoy, his blue eyes flashing dangerously; it was obvious that Ron didn't care how many Slytherins Draco had backing him up. He grabbed the blonde boy's robes and shoved him hard against the wall, getting up in his face.
"I'd sooner die than thank a Slytherin for anything!"
"Be careful what you wish for, Weaselbee," Draco sneered, "You just might get it!"
The memory started to fade away, leaving one thought foremost in Ron Weasley's mind: "I think I know who killed this world's Ron Weasley…"
-- End Chapter 6 --
Author's End Notes: Well, there you have it: Chapter 5. Has anything been made clearer, or is it becoming more and more muddled, hmm? Feel free to leave a review and let me know how I'm doing, or to ask any questions you might have about this or any previous chapters. You can ask about upcoming chapters, too, but don't count on me to answer those questions! ;-)
A quick note about a spell cast by Ron against Harry during the scene outside the Potions dungeon: Recedibus (pronounced ray-kay-DE-boos) is an original spell created by my very favorite Beta Reader, CutewithAcapital-Q, herself. The Latin base, recedi, means "to retreat, recede, withdraw", and this spell of Her Royal Cuteness' creation produces a short-lived force-field that can stop a person and keep them at arm's length. Only a temporary measure, to be sure, but it was designed to be something a Second Year student might know.
I'm usually against using anything that isn't a spell that has already appeared in the source material of the various HARRY POTTER books, but this idea of Cute's was too good to pass up. Besides, since the spell was cast on Mirror!Earth, who's to say it's not something taught in the parallel universe?
Next chapter, we'll be finding out what happened to Mirror!Ron during his Third Year at Hogwarts, and how things were different than they were in Prisoner of Azkaban. Check back in two weeks for Chapter 6...provided I can work through my writer's block!
~Hawk!