AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, so, I've seen HALF-BLOOD PRINCE, and while I'm dying to comment on it, I don't want to give away anything for those of you who have YET to see it. So, all of you people who HAVEN'T gone out to see it, hie your butts to the theatre and see it already so I can talk about it in my notes!!! All I will say is: what about the scene where [CENSORED] grabbed [CENSORED]'s [CENSORED] and said "[CENSORED]"? Hehe. Seriously, it's a good movie as long as you can forgive the glaring deviations from the book.
TA: Thank'y kindly to all those who've reviewed my story so far. 166 reviews and 6480 hits to date! Yehaw! Thanks, also, to my beta, CutewithAcapital-Q for giving my story the once-over and helping me tighten it up.
DISCLAIMER: JKR owns everything but the plot and Snape's greasy little goatee.
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 9
"The Man in the Mirror"
By the time Ron dragged himself out of bed the next morning, aching all over after his tumble down two flights of stairs, the other three Fifth Year boys were already up and out of the dorm. In the light of day, Ron could clearly see the difference in this room compared to the one he was familiar with.
There was more floor space in the dorm than Ron was used to thanks largely to the absence of a fifth bed in the room. Neville's bed stood beside Ron's where Harry's bed should have been. That simple omission…one bed too few…sent Ron's mind back to last night and the monumental mission that was now laid out before him.
"I have to turn Evil Prick Harry into Good Guy Hero Harry if I ever want to set foot on my own world ever again…"
"Piece o' cake!" Ron said sarcastically as he dressed, gathered his books and headed downstairs to start the day.
A copy of his daily timetable had been sitting in his trunk atop his second-hand books, so at least not knowing what classes he needed to attend wouldn't add to his feeling of being completely lost.
When he reached the Great Hall, breakfast was nearly over; many students and teachers had already finished their morning meal and had gone off to start their day. He cast a glance at the Slytherin table as he passed by, but there was no sign of Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle.
He reached the Gryffindor table and moved towards the middle, where Neville was seated across from Hermione. Ron took a deep, cleansing breath and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his fiery red hair.
"Mind if I sit here?" Ron asked, motioning to the empty spot on the bench next to Neville.
He saw Hermione and Neville stiffen at the sound of his voice. Neville shot a questioning look to Hermione and she huffed and buried herself behind her copy of The Daily Prophet. Neville sighed and turned to face Ron, forcing a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes.
"Ron…uh…maybe that's not the best idea," Neville said nervously. There was a distinct hmmph from behind Hermione's newspaper. Neville got to his feet and started to lead Ron further down the table, "We need to talk."
"If this is about the fight last night…" Ron said, warily.
"Forget about it, Ro--…"
There was a sudden gasp and the sound of a goblet of pumpkin juice crashing to the table from close by. Ron looked up just in time to see a pale-faced and wide-eyed Ginny jump to her feet, tears pouring down her cheeks as she fled from the Great Hall.
"What was that all about?" Neville asked, looking in the direction Ginny had gone, "Is Ginny okay?"
Ron, meanwhile, was watching the twins, Fred and George, as they glared at him and whispered back-and-forth to each other. "I don't know, Neville…I'll have to ask her later."
Of course, Ron knew what Ginny's sudden disappearance had been all about; she had just seen her dead brother come strolling into the Great Hall. Ron was mentally kicking himself for not asking Dumbledore what to do when he inevitably ran into the other Weasleys. He would have to ask the headmaster's advice on the matter the next time he spoke with him.
The redhead looked up at the High Table and was filled with a sense of dread as he realized Dumbledore was not present this morning. Wherever the headmaster was, Ron hoped he was somehow working on a way for him to succeed in his mission.
"Sit down," Neville said, tearing Ron's attention from the Head Table. He was pointing at an empty spot near the end of the table, "Breakfast is almost over."
Neville took a seat first and then Ron nodded and did as he was told, sitting next to Neville and hurriedly piling food on his plate. He was just taking a large bite of eggs when Neville began talking again. Ron nearly choked on his eggs when he heard Neville's chosen subject of conversation.
"Did you do something to Crookshanks?"
"Bloody Hell, Neville!" Ron coughed, half-chewed eggs spraying out of his mouth, "What is this? You don't want me sitting near you and Hermione, and now you're accusing me of --…"
"I'm not accusing you of anything, Ron," Neville replied, putting his hands up defensively, "It's just…I heard Hermione's version of the story, and now I want to hear yours."
"What does it matter what my version is?" Ron sighed, casting a glance up the table towards Hermione. She was watching the two boys with obvious interest but when she saw Ron looking, she immediately dove back behind her paper, "Believe what you want. She does."
"I want to believe that my best friend isn't capable of doing something so mean and cruel to my other best friend's cat just to be spiteful," Neville said, looking very serious, "But the evidence is pointing in that direction."
"What evidence?" Ron scoffed.
"You skulking around outside the portrait hole in the middle of the night with Crookshanks in your possession," Neville said, looking down at the table.
"Skulking?!" Ron shouted, drawing curious looks from nearby students, "I didn't know the bloody password, and I found the damn cat stuffed in a toilet during my walk last night!"
"So, you didn't have Crookshanks hidden somewhere and weren't just trying to bring him back before you got into trouble?" Neville asked nervously. He looked like he was afraid Ron was about to blow up at him…again.
"When would I have had time to hide him, Neville?" Ron asked heatedly, "Did I hide him while I was unconscious in the bloody Hospital Wing?!"
"No…I suppose not," Neville replied, blushing.
"Cheers, by the way, for believing in me," Ron said bitterly, standing up and snatching his schoolbag off the floor. He started to make for the exit of the Great Hall, but turned back and looked at Neville, his eyes a stormy sea of troubled emotions. "I don't blame you for believing Hermione…you fancy her, after all; it just would've been nice if you could have given me the benefit of the doubt."
"Ron…"
"Save it, Neville. I'll see you in Flitwick's class."
Without another word, Ron slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and limped out of the Great Hall. He walked as quickly as his bruised and battered leg would allow, and didn't stop until he was sitting at his usual spot inside the Charms classroom, thankful for some time alone to clear his thoughts. It didn't last, however, and a few minutes later the rest of the class filed in, taking their seats.
He wasn't quite sure he was ready to be thrown into the role of this world's Ron Weasley just yet. His sum total of interactions between himself and Neville and Hermione had showed him that. Things were too different. He and Neville were friends where he came from, but not best mates; trying to act as though they were was proving to be difficult.
"Alright there, Ron?" Neville asked shyly as he slid into the seat next to Ron.
"'M fine, Neville," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes.
"About that business at breakfast…"
"Leave it alone, Neville," Ron said, tiredly, "I'm not in the mood."
"I just…you were wrong, Ron," Neville said, keeping his voice low, "I did fancy Hermione once…but I've moved on. There's someone else I like. So, if someone else took an interest in Hermione..."
Ron shot him a quizzical look but before Neville could say anything more, Professor Flitwick had come into the room and climbed atop the pile of books he used to elevate him to a height necessary to see over his desk. Charms class had begun.
Charms class was a double period this year, as was Transfiguration. And just as Professor Flitwick had done at the beginning of Charms, Professor McGonagall spent the first fifteen minutes of Transfiguration class stressing the importance of the OWL exams they would take at the end of you school-year.
Ron had so much on his mind that it was difficult to concentrate on what Professor McGonagall was teaching, and at more than one point during the double lesson, he found his eyes drifting out the classroom window as his mind mulled over the difficulties that faced him this year. It should have come as no surprise, then, that Professor McGonagall insisted that he see her after class.
He received a short lecture on the importance of OWLs and the importance of paying attention to the lessons leading up to the OWLs. Ron nodded and looked sufficiently sorry for having lost his concentration during class, and not only did he make it out of there without any significant punishment…besides the lecture…he was only ten minutes late to lunch.
When he entered the Great Hall, Ron didn't bother approaching Neville and Hermione in search of a seat, not wanting a repeat of the morning's awkwardness. Unfortunately for him, Neville waved him over expectantly.
"Oi, Ron! I've saved you a seat!"
There was, indeed, a spot open on the bench next to Neville, but as he looked over that way, Ron noticed Hermione looking very disgruntled at Neville. Obviously, she didn't want him sitting there.
Neville, however, kept calling to him, and people were starting to stare, wondering what the commotion was all about. Wanting to shut Neville up and get everyone else to go back to minding their own business, Ron hurried over and dropped down next to Neville.
Ron immediately began helping himself to the food, not bothering to look up at either Neville or Hermione, knowing full well that if he did, he would no doubt see Hermione hiding her face behind a textbook or other large tome, ignoring him.
Neville, however, seemed completely oblivious to Ron and Hermione's discomfort, and began talking cheerfully. Ron didn't mind that the round-faced boy was engaging Hermione instead of him in conversation, but he did mind the subject matter.
"I heard Viktor was signed by the Vrasta Vultures," Neville said, referring to the Bulgarian Quidditch team that competed in the European Quidditch League; one of the most successful European teams, having won the tri-annually contested European Cup a total of seven times.
"That's right," Hermione replied, looking over the top of her Transfiguration book at Neville, pointedly ignoring Ron, "Though he still hopes to play for the national team when the World Cup is played again in three years."
"We saw him play in last year's Cup final," Neville said, smiling at the memory, "He was amazing…wasn't he, Ron?"
"Mm…" Ron grunted noncommittally, refusing to look up from his plate as he shoveled Shepherd's pie into his mouth.
"You couldn't stop gushing about him at the Cup match, Ron," Neville said with a sly smirk, "Why the sudden lack of interest?"
Ron cast a surly glance at Neville. Having seen the memories of this world's Ron Weasley, he knew that Neville had to know why there was a lack of interest in Viktor Krum on Ron's part. He didn't know what Neville was playing at.
"I'm just not a fan anymore," Ron said honestly, "Can we change the subject?"
"It's because he's my boyfriend!" Hermione hissed, glaring hatefully at Ron, "Guilt by association…isn't that right? You hate me, so now you hate Viktor!"
"I do NOT hate you!" Ron snapped, slamming his fist down hard on the table, causing nearby plates, bowls, platters, and cups to jump momentarily and drawing startled looks from some nearby Gryffindors, "What does it matter how I feel? You nothing me, remember? As for Viktor Krum…what I hate about him and why is my business; but I'll tell you this: you can do much better than him!"
For the second time that day, Ron got up and stormed out of the Great Hall without finishing his meal. If this kept up, he'd be nothing more than red hair and a bag of bones by the end of the week.
Ron pushed through the doors leading out onto the school grounds and headed in the direction of Hagrid's cabin, where their Care of Magical Creatures class was held. He didn't get very far before someone grabbed his arm from behind.
Turning quickly, Ron had his wand out and pointed in his assailant's face in the space of no more than a second. To say Neville Longbottom looked surprised to find his best friend's wand-tip less than an inch from his nose was the understatement of the year.
"Uh…Ron…?"
"What do you want, Neville?" Ron growled, lowering his wand and turning back to continue his trek down the lawn toward Hagrid's.
"What happened in there, mate?" Neville asked, referring to his outburst at the lunch table.
"I hate Krum," Ron said simply, "He's an idiot, and I don't need to hear about him while I'm trying to eat."
"He's not that bad," Neville replied, having no clue as to what was truly going on, "Hermione introduced me to him before he returned to Durmstrang. Viktor even gave me his autograph; I showed you, remember?"
"Neville, I didn't want to hear about Viktor-sodding-Krum at lunch…what makes you think I want to hear about him on my way to class?"
"I just think there's something…some reason you don't like Viktor…that you're not willing to admit…not even to yourself," Neville said, sounding as if he was trying to draw Ron out, to get him to admit his true feelings, "You know, it's okay for you to like her…"
Ron got a crick in his neck from turning his head to face Neville so quickly, "What are you on about?"
"Well, it just seemed like…last year, anyway…that you might have had…feelings…for Hermione," Neville said with a knowing smirk; a smirk that Ron was tempted to hex off Neville's face, "If you're trying to hide those feelings because you think I like her…like I said before, I like someone else now."
"Right," Ron said rolling his eyes, "And I'm sure her boyfriend won't mind a bit, yeah?"
"So you do like her!" Neville exclaimed, smiling brightly.
"I never said that!" Ron yelled, looking horrified at having inadvertently revealed information of such a delicate nature, "Bloody Hell, Neville!"
"You're secret's safe with me, mate!" Neville said, continuing to smile and making Ron want to hex his face clear of all expression, "And listen…for what it's worth…I'm sorry for not believing you about Crookshanks earlier."
Neville turned and ran back the way he came and Ron sighed heavily. He had a really bad feeling about Neville knowing the truth about his feelings for Hermione, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
"Too bad Lockhart's not here…he could Obliviate Neville right quick," Ron muttered as he continued on towards Hagrid's hut. He was much too early for class, and since Hagrid was nowhere to be found – he really needed to ask Dumbledore about the missing half-giant – he decided to sit under the shade of a tree, close his eyes, and just lose himself in his thoughts.
This was going to be the first Care of Magical Creatures class of the term, and that had Ron feeling anxious; not because of the wonky creatures…many of them deserving the term "monsters"…that he'd be facing in this class…especially once Hagrid returned from wherever he was…but because of the students who would have to face.
This would be his first class with the Slytherins; his first class with Harry. He had yet to even see Harry since Dumbledore's Borrowing spell brought him here, but now he'd be coming face-to-face with him…and that thought frightened him a little.
From everything Ron had seen, and from what Dumbledore had said, Harry was one of You-Know-Who's minions on this world, possibly even a Death Eater. If that was the case, how was Ron going to convince him to abandon You-Know-Who and actually fight against him? It really did seem hopeless.
There was a noise nearby, and when Ron looked, he saw Professor Grubbly-Plank conjure up a long trestle table about ten yards from the front door of Hagrid's cabin and begin laying out what looked like bundles of twigs atop it.
Class would be starting soon, and as if to prove the point to Ron, he could hear the sound of the Gryffindor and Slytherin students making their way down the lawn. He looked towards the crowd of Slytherins as they swaggered down the lawn and his anxiety grew.
There was no sign of Harry in the crowd, but he would be here, and Ron would have to face him. He didn't know how he'd be able to handle coming face-to-face with a Harry who not only hated him, but was one of You-Know-Who's evil minions.
"Meeeeoowwww!"
Ron looked up and saw a group of Slytherins, led by Draco Malfoy, making cat noises as the Gryffindors approached. Hermione was at the front of the group, and Ron realized they were mocking her with the, literal, cat-calls. She looked extremely flustered and that just made the Slytherins laugh at her all the more.
"Hey, Granger," Malfoy called, a vicious smirk on his pointed face, "Word around the castle is that orange beast of yours ran away…not even your ugly cat wants to be around a filthy little Mudblood like you!"
"Then word around the castle is wrong," Hermione said snidely, "Crookshanks is in my dorm where he belongs; better check your facts next time, Malfoy."
Ron watched as Malfoy cast an angry, inquiring glance at Crabbe and Goyle who, in turn, gave Malfoy a pair of blankly confused looks; the two Slytherin behemoths shrugged as though they really had no idea what was going on…in all likelihood, they didn't.
"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron called out of habit, stepping up next to Hermione, ready to jump to her defense just as he would do on his own world, "Stay away from Hermione and tell your goons to stay away from her cat before someone stuffs them in a toilet!"
Ron couldn't help but notice the flash of recognition in Malfoy's cold grey eyes. Nor could he miss the concerned looks on Crabbe and Goyle's faces as they seemed to realize – rather quickly for those two dunderheads – that they'd been found out. They looked immediately to Malfoy as if hoping for some sort of instructions from their pale-haired ringleader.
"You might want to watch hanging around in girls' bathrooms, Weasley," Malfoy said, smiling malevolently, "As a prefect, I think I'll have to give you a detention!"
Ron smirked and spoke menacingly to Malfoy, "Who said anything about the girls' bathroom, Malfoy? You might want to give yourself a detention since you obviously know more than you're letting on."
The pale-blonde Slytherin drew back, eyes wide as he realized he'd said too much. His look of shock shifted quickly, though, and he was soon glaring hatefully at Ron as he moved away from the two Gryffindors back towards Crabbe and Goyle.
Before another word could be said, Professor Grubbly-Plank called the class to order and they soon began their study of bowtruckles – stick-like tree spirits. During the lesson, Ron hazarded a glance at Hermione; she seemed deep in thought and a war of emotions was playing out on her face. When she noticed Ron watching her, she glowered at him then turned her attention back to the professor.
Ron sighed and shook his head before trying to concentrate on the lesson. As he did, though, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he got the feeling that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder and a cold chill ran through his body; Harry Potter had finally shown up for class and was glaring at Ron from his place amongst the Slytherin portion of the students, his vibrant, green eyes full of hatred and loathing.
Ron swallowed involuntarily and turned his attention back to Professor Grubbly-Plank, but he couldn't concentrate on the lesson, so he gave it up as a bad job. He couldn't help feeling crushed by the weight of his mission.
"How'm I supposed to make Harry my friend when the bloke looks like he wants to kill me?"
Professor Grubbly-Plank's lesson on bowtruckles went by with Ron, unsurprisingly, not paying attention. Too many things were running through his head for him to concentrate on the twig-creatures they were studying.
Ron's body was practically moving on autopilot by the time the class ended and the Gryffindors made their way up towards the greenhouses for Herbology. So lost in thought was Ron that he didn't even realize he was being hemmed in by Slytherins until he ran into Crabbe's beefy frame.
"Better watch where you're going, Weasel," Malfoy said from behind him, "You never know when something unfortunate might happen to you."
Ron turned around and glared at Malfoy's smirking pointy face, "Better watch yourself, Ferret-boy…someone might bounce you right off the Astronomy Tower."
Malfoy looked confused at Ron's comments, and as Ron forcibly shoved his way past Crabbe and continued on up to the greenhouses, he realized that comments made no sense to Malfoy. After all, 'Professor Moody' never turned him into the Amazing Bouncing Ferret like he had on Ron's world.
"Shame, really," Ron thought, smirking at the memory, "I should learn how to do that and do it to him myself…teach the ruddy git a lesson."
When Ron reached the greenhouses, he saw Neville talking with Ginny as the rest of her Fourth Year Herbology class – a mix of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws – made their way towards the castle. Ginny and Neville both had blushes on their cheeks as they conversed nervously, and neither noticed him approaching. Ron watched them with an arch look on his face, wondering what they could be talking about that had them both embarrassed and nervous.
"I'm glad you're feeling better."
Ron was ripped from his thoughts of Neville and Ginny by a girl with long dirty-blonde hair and bulging eyes that made her look constantly surprised. She had been standing off to the side, as if waiting for Ginny and Neville to finish talking, but when she saw him she must have decided to come and talk to him.
The girl looked familiar, and Ron was pretty sure he'd seen her somewhere before…somewhere other than Hogwarts…but he couldn't quite place her. She, however, must have completely recognized him as she beamed up at him excitedly.
"I heard Snargalak flu is quite fatal," she said, gazing at him admiringly, "You're lucky to have recovered so quickly."
"Yeah, that's me," he replied sarcastically, "Lucky all over. Err…?"
"You don't remember me?" she asked, smiling still, "Luna Lovegood…we live near each other…"
"Okay…" Ron tried to remember all the wizarding families that lived around Ottery St. Catchpole. The Weasleys, of course, the Diggorys, the Fawcetts, and… "Your dad's Xenophilius Lovegood…the bloke that puts out The Quibbler?"
The Quibbler was a disreputable magazine full of amazing, impossible-to-believe stories about crackpot conspiracy theories, bizarre occurrences, and imaginary magical creatures. Xenophilius was a bit of a loon, and so was his daughter, judging by the orange radish-looking things hanging from her ears.
"That's my father," Luna agreed, nodding. She continued to smile up at him admiringly and Ron felt very uncomfortable, "I'm really glad you're better…I just wanted to tell you that. I've got to go now that Ginny's done talking to her boyfriend…we're going to be late for Transfiguration. Good-bye Ronald!"
With a wave, Luna hurried off towards the castle, catching up to Ginny who, once again, appeared to be in a great hurry to get away from him. Ron sighed as he watched Ginny run off, wondering if she'd ever be able to be near him without running away…if not, people were going to start getting very suspicious very soon.
And what was that business Luna was talking about? Ginny didn't have a boyfriend…she was talking to Nevi–…
"Sweet Merlin, you're kidding me!"
"Alright there, Ron?" Neville asked nervously, "We're going to be late unless we get inside…"
Ron moved over quickly and shoved Neville up against the glass-paneled wall of the greenhouse, causing the other boy to squeak in surprise.
"When were you going to tell me about you and Ginny?" Ron asked angrily, "When were you going to tell me you're dating my sis--…"
Ron broke away suddenly, letting go of Neville and backing off, looking embarrassed and apologetic. He'd forgotten that this Ginny wasn't his sister…not really. He had no right to get angry…no business being overprotective of her.
"Sorry, Neville…err…I'd better get inside before Sprout gives me a detention…"
Ron hurried inside the greenhouse, leaving behind a frightened and dumbstruck Neville Longbottom to try and figure out what had just happened. When Neville entered the greenhouse, he avoided Ron which suited Ron fine, since he didn't know what he would say to the other boy when the time came for them to discuss what had just happened.
Herbology went by without Ron really paying attention. He had partnered up with one of the Hufflepuffs, leaving Neville to partner with Hermione. He tried to ignore the fact that they kept whispering back and forth and shooting him looks over their shoulders, but it was difficult. It was just more weight piled onto a pair of freckled shoulders that felt as if he were holding up the sky; a pale, ginger-haired Atlas struggling with his burden…and this was just the first day.
Ron sat alone near the end of the Gryffindor table at dinner, wolfing down his food as fast as he could. Neville and Hermione kept shooting him looks and talking quietly to each other. Not waiting for pudding, Ron finished his steak-and-kidney pie and was just about to rush out of the Great Hall when Angelina Johnson started moving up and down the length of the table, calling out to her fellow Gryffindors.
"Keeper try-outs on Friday, people! We need someone to replace Oliver Wood, so if you have any Quidditch talent whatsoever, be out on the pitch Friday at five o'clock!" She reached Ron's spot at the table and smiled, "You're a Weasley…you must be good at Quidditch, yeah…with brothers like Charlie and Fred and George? You need to come and try out!"
"Err…I don't know…" Ron shrugged, desperate to exit the hall. He honestly did want to try out for the team…ever since he received his new broom he'd been thinking about it; but here, with the mission he had to accomplish…playing Quidditch didn't seem to matter.
"You're coming," Angelina said, not taking no…or I don't know…for an answer, "You'll be there even if I have to get the twins to drag you there by your jumper!"
Before Ron could reply, Angelina made her way back down the table, reminding everyone of the Keeper try-outs. Sighing in frustration, Ron made his way out of the Great Hall. He went up to his dorm where he was pretty sure he could be alone with his thoughts, at least for a little while.
Ron climbed the boys' staircase to the Fifth Year dorm, dropping heavily onto his bed with a weary sigh. He shuffled through his schoolbag and fished out his timetable; tomorrow would be another Care of Magical Creatures class, which meant another opportunity to try and talk to Harry…not that today's attempt went well.
With the incident between Hermione and Malfoy and then Harry looking like he'd rather kill Ron than talk to him, Ron hadn't bothered to even try to approach Harry. Even when he did, eventually, confront Harry, Ron had no idea what he would say to him; how was he supposed to convince this Harry to quit You-Know-Who's camp and sign up with Dumbledore? Blood-traitor's loyalty or something like that, the prophecy had said. But what did it mean?
"Bloody cryptic Trelawney," Ron grumbled, tossing his timetable aside after several minutes of pondering the meaning of the prophecy, "Merlin forbid she should be straightforward about something!"
"You working on her dream journal?"
The sound of the voice behind him had startled Ron and he jumped visibly. He turned in time to see Neville coming through the door into the dormitory. Ron sighed; he had hoped to avoid Neville, and the inevitable conversation about what happened before Herbology, for at least the rest of the night.
"I know you weren't there for our first Divination class, Ron, so if you want to use my dream journal as a guide…" Neville reached into his trunk and tossed a book to Ron before dropping down on his own bed, "Nice catch," Neville said with a smile as Ron caught the book nimbly, "You really should try out for Keeper."
Humoring Neville, Ron flipped open the book and looked briefly at a detailed account of a dream involving Neville's mimbulus mimbletonia. Ron smirked before snapping the book shut and tossing it back to Neville.
"Cheers, Nev," Ron said half-heartedly, "But I'll just make something up. Maybe I 'dreamt' about buying new shoes; she can't turn that into something tragic."
Neville laughed and the two boys fell into a semi-comfortable silence. Neville, however, broke it all too soon.
"Can I ask you something, Ron?"
"I s'pose…" Ron shrugged, hoping it would be a question he could answer.
"What was that, out by the greenhouses?" Neville asked quietly, looking down at his feet, "I mean, I know she's your sister and you're protective of her…but I'm your best friend…do you really think I'm going to hurt her or something?"
"I don't know, Neville," Ron said tiredly, "This whole situation is just not something I ever considered."
"I don't want this to hurt our friendship," Neville said, looking up briefly, "But I really do like Ginny; we had such a good time together at the Yule Ball..."
"The bloody Yule Ball," Ron thought, grimacing, "How I wish that night never happened."
"Ron…? Say something…" Neville looked worried.
"It's fine, Neville," Ron sighed. This wasn't his world; he didn't have a right to get bent out of shape over what this world's Ginny did, "Just treat her right and you won't need to worry about Ginny's brothers." He wasn't talking about him. Ginny had five other brothers on this world that could protect her from boyfriends and the like.
Ron wanted to get out of the dorm as fast as possible and extricate himself from the uncomfortable conversation. As he noticed his broom propped against the wall next to his bed, Ron found a perfect excuse for leaving. He stood up and grabbed his broom, making his way towards the door.
"Ron? Where are you going?" Neville asked, looking confused.
"If I'm going to try out for Keeper," Ron said over his shoulder, "I need to get in some practice."
Before Neville could reply, Ron left the room and rushed down the boys' staircase. He stopped halfway down the steps and looked at the broom in his hand; the wood felt cold in his hand and he realized why.
"This is a dead bloke's broom," he thought, a shiver running through him, "He never even got a chance to ride it."
The Cleansweep Eleven had been his reward for being made a prefect, but on this world Ron Weasley died before ever setting eyes on the brand-new broom. His mother came home from buying it only to find her son dead on the floor of the Burrow's lounge.
Another cold shiver ran through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to throw the broom aside and never touch it again. But he couldn't do that; he needed to keep up the deception that he was this world's Ron Weasley.
He continued down into the common room and was about to head out through the portrait hole when twin flashes of red drew his attention to the corner. He wanted to avoid the twins just as much as he wanted to avoid Neville…but as his conversation with the round-faced boy up in the dorm had proved, an encounter with them was inevitable.
People would begin noticing the bizarre way the Weasleys were treating him unless they came to some sort of understanding. Surely with Ginny dating Neville, it was only a matter of time before he noticed Ginny avoiding her "brother". His mission could be in jeopardy if people started asking questions.
Taking a deep breath and propping his broom next to the portrait hole, Ron made his way over to the corner where the twins were shuffling through some pieces of parchment, talking quietly amongst themselves in animated whispers. He moved slowly and deliberately, not wanting to draw any undue attention to himself.
He cleared his throat when he reached the twins, and Fred and George looked up, their expressions stony.
"Hey…" Ron began, really not knowing what to say in this situation.
"Well, look who it is, George," Fred said, turning his attention back to the parchment on the table.
"If it isn't 'ickle Ronnie'," George replied, snorting derisively.
"Go away!" the twins said together.
"I need to talk to you," Ron said, hoping they'd give him a break. But, if there was one thing Ron should have learned from having his teddy bear turned into a spider right before his eyes at the age of three, it was that Fred and George did not cut their younger brother a break, no matter what universe they were in.
"We don't want to talk," Fred replied brusquely, not bothering to look up, "So, bugger off."
"How's Ginny?" Ron asked, ignoring Fred's rudeness. It was a rather dumb question, he knew, but it was a lot easier to ask than to ask 'Can you please get Ginny to stop running off crying every time I come in a room?'
"How do you think she is, 'little brother'?!" Fred asked in an angry whisper, looking up at Ron once more.
"She's a right bit traumatized," George answered, his voice sounding a bit shaky, "So'm I, come to that."
Ron had never seen one of the twins look like this…lost, frightened, small…shattered. He felt horrible for the twins and the rest of Weasleys; there was no way that Ron could know what they were feeling or how he would feel in the same situation.
"Ginny found y--…him," Fred said, "She was the first one through the Floo and there he was…sprawled out on the lounge floor, staring up at the ceiling with lifeless eyes."
"Mum went spare," George added in his small-sounding voice, "By the time we Apparated in, she was cradling him…screaming for someone to come help her baby…"
Ron felt as though a mountain troll had kicked him in the stomach. He didn't want to hear about this; seeing the memory…feeling as though he had died…had been bad enough, but knowing how it had hurt the family…how it was still hurting the family…was too much.
"When I got there, Ginny was throwing up on the floor…I nearly did, too," Fred admitted looking away.
"I…I'm…" Ron didn't think he could bring himself to say 'I'm sorry'. It didn't seem like it was enough.
"I miss him," George said softly, looking out the window, "He was my baby brother."
Fred reached over and patted George on the shoulder. The twins always had each other…even over here…and that thought, alone, was comforting. Without another word, Ron moved away from the twins' table; he'd intruded enough…caused them enough pain.
He really needed to clear his head now, so the prospect of taking a ride on his broom was more appealing now than ever before. He grabbed his broom and crawled quickly through the portrait hole and left Gryffindor Tower behind him.
He made his way down the corridor towards the stairs and five minutes later he was standing outside the castle, looking off towards the school's Quidditch pitch. Ron mounted his broom – pretending it was his own Cleansweep Eleven he'd left behind on his own world helped cut down on the creepy feeling – and kicked off from the ground, flying in the direction of the three golden goal hoops glinting in the fading sunlight of an early September evening.
Flying cleared his head; it always had, even when all he had to fly was a broken-down Shooting Star that had been passed down from brother-to-brother-to-brother until it became his. It was the same broken-down old broom that he had passed on to Ginny when the Cleansweep had been purchased.
Ron sighed as the cool air whipped past his face, rustling his robes and mussing his hair. He swooped around the triple goal hoops, wishing for a moment that he had a Quaffle to toss around while he was up there, if only to lose himself further in the Quidditch experience before returning to the ground below and the troubles that lay before him.
He gave himself over to the exhilaration of flying; he did several laps around the pitch and by the time he landed in front of the castle and dismounted his broom, he was looking quite rosy-cheeked and windswept, and there was a smile on his face.
The smile was short-lived, however, as he ran into one of the last people he ever cared to encounter once he was back inside the castle.
"Ah, Weasley…back among the living, I see," Professor Snape said with his trademark sneer, "Dire illness will not excuse you from the essay I assigned yesterday: one foot of parchment on the use of moonstones. I expect you to hand yours in alongside everyone else; and writing in ridiculously large letters will result in a failing grade and earn you a detention…am I understood?"
"Err…yeah," Ron knew he shouldn't stare, but he couldn't help it. The sallowness of Snape's pale face he was used to seeing was broken up by the presence of a greasy black goatee ending in an evil-looking point. Ron could not take his eyes off it.
"I do believe the words you meant to say were 'Yes, Professor'," Snape hissed, narrowing his black eyes at Ron.
"Err…right…yeah…" Ron said, not paying attention to a thing the Potions Master said.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespect!" Snape growled, "And if you enjoy staring at me so much, Weasley, perhaps a detention will help you get your fill of gawking at me!"
"What…? No! Err…no, Professor," Ron said, feeling bile rise in his throat as he forced himself to be respectful.
"Move along, Weasley!" Snape snapped, glaring at the redheaded Gryffindor.
Ron quickly did as he was told, tearing his eyes away from Snape and his greasy goatee, and heading for the stairs leading up to the Seventh Floor.
"Oh, and Weasley…?"
"Yes…Professor?"
"I'll see you in my office for detention, tomorrow night at seven o'clock; lateness will result in a loss of House points and further detentions."
Ron set his jaw and gritted his teeth. He was very close to yelling at Snape, berating him for being such an unfair git. He kept his mouth shut, though, knowing he'd just get in worse trouble. He turned away from the Potions professor and made his way upstairs.
"Slimy, stinking bat!" Ron growled once he had reached the Seventh Floor and his anger had reached the boiling point. He didn't care who heard him or if they knew who he was talking about, "Points off for disrespect and detention for staring…completely effing ridiculous!"
During a pause in his rant about Snape, he heard a shuffling noise behind him. He pulled his wand and turned just as a voice called out from behind him.
"You really shouldn't talk to yourself…people will think you're mad."
AUTHOR'S END NOTES: Well, there you have it...Ron's first day of class. Not an action-packed "popcorn movie" chapter, but I hope t was enjoyable all the same. Check back in two weeks for the next installment.