AUTHOR'S NOTES: Not sure what sort of cold-bug I came across three weeks ago, but it certanly isn't the COMMON cold. This is some sort of sterroid-juicing Eastern Bloc cold-bug that you might find in some Cold War era movie about biological weapons used against the unsuspecting American populace requiring Chuck Norris to sneak behind the Iron Curtain and fight a bunch of Commies in long coats and fur hats (ever notice how it's ALWAYS winter in the Russia protrayed in the movies?) in order to find the cure. So, yeah, I've got a cold...still. And the damn thing seems resistant to orange juice and chicken soup, so it MUST be some sort of Communist SUPER-BUG.
Anybody else miss the Cold War? Action movies were a lot more interesting when there were two Super Powers on the planet under constant threat of "Mutually Assured Destruction". Now, we got James Bond fighting petty dictators over water rights in, like, Argentina or something and, like, playing a killer game of Texas Hold 'Em (or was it Baccarat?) before sinking part of Venice. Anyway...
I've managed to get quite a bit of work done on this story recently. I'll be sending Ch. 16 off to my beta sometime this weekend and starting on Ch. 17 soon after that. Ch. 18 and 19 are already written, though I do need to tweak them a bit, due to some re-writes that occurred throughout some of the previous chapters. So, it all boils down to several weeks of, hopefully, uninterrupted posting. We'll have to wait and see, though.
For the Americans in the audience, I hope your Thanksgiving was enjoyable...and for te rest of the world, I hope you enjoyed yet another boring Thursday WITHOUT pumpkin pie and giant balloons floating through your country's most famous major city. That's right...GIANT BALLOONS. Garfield, Kermit the Frog...even Underdog! Bet you're sorry for kicking them Pilgrims out now, huh England?! Just kidding...seriously...I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was a good one; I myself was too sick to go to my family's dinner...so I slept most of the day. As much as I like sleeping, it does NOT trump pumpkin pie and Cool Whip.
THANKS: Speaking of pie...everyone needs to remind my wonderful beta, CutewithAcapital-Q that she owes me a batch of pie-crust cookies (don't ask)! I expect 'em in time for Christmas! She's a great beta, she is, even if she thinks cake is better than pie. I could do this story without her, but it wouldn't be as much fun for me. So, thanks a ton, Cutie!
DISCLAIMER: This stuff belongs to JKR...and now that I said that, she can't sue me...so neener, neener, neener!!!
D'OH!: I almost completely forgot! I was super-psyched that this fic has surpassed the 300 review mark as of last chapter! So, thank you SO MUCH to all you great readers who took the time to review for me!
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 15
"Reflection of Misdirection"
"It's not there!"
Dumbledore looked up from his desk to the out-of-breath redhead that had just come bursting through the door into his office uninvited. It was obvious by his frantic words and harried expression that Ron Weasley's search did not go as planned.
"Tom Riddle's diary was not in Mr. Potter's dormitory?" the old wizard asked the obvious question, but it was a question that really did not need answering by the crestfallen look on the redhead's face…although Ron decided to answer anyway.
"No," Ron said, shaking his head, "And I searched the bloody place from floor-to-ceiling; I even went through the other Slytherins' stuff as well, but no sign of Riddle's diary anywhere!"
"I did find a stuffed teddy bear in Goyle's trunk," Ron thought, remembering the embarrassing plush toy, "But that really doesn't help me complete my mission."
"Calm down, Mr. Weasley, and have a seat," Dumbledore said, motioning towards the comfortable-looking chair in front of his desk. Ron did as he was told and as he got closer to him, the headmaster wrinkled his nose and gave Ron a quizzical look, "What is that smell, Mr. Weasley?"
"Oh…err…dungbombs," Ron said sheepishly, blushing to the tips of his ears, "Crabbe had some in his trunk and they went off accidentally during my search."
Ron's ears continued to redden as he told the headmaster a complete and total lie. He hadn't accidentally set of Crabbe's dungbombs; he'd pilfered the dungbombs from his brother Fred and then he'd deliberately set them off in the Slytherin dungeon. He tossed five in Malfoy's trunk, two each in Crabbe and Goyle's, three in the dormitory itself, and then eight more in the Slytherin common room just as he was leaving.
Of course, Dumbledore didn't need to know it was a lie. Ron just hoped the old headmaster didn't somehow read his mind as he'd seemed to be able to do on occasion.
"I see," Dumbledore replied, nodding. He took out his wand and waved it in Ron's direction, eliminating the offensive odor from the air and from Ron's clothes as well. "You should endeavor to be more careful next time, Ronald."
"Right…next time," Ron nodded. Next time he decided to sneak into the Slytherin dungeon and set off dragon-dung-scented stinkbombs, he would have to be more careful so as to not get caught up in cloud of offensive stench.
"Tell me, Ronald," Dumbledore said, drawing Ron out of his thoughts as he turned his attention back to the matter at hand, "If the diary was not in Mr. Potter's dormitory, where do suppose it is?"
"Well, Harry's either got it with him, or he's hidden is someplace else…someplace he thinks is safer than his own dorm," Ron said, stating the obvious. He had a bad feeling of where the diary might be, but if he didn't say it…maybe it wouldn't be true.
"And do you have an idea of the place Mr. Potter might consider safe?" Dumbledore asked in a tone that implied he was leading Ron toward the answer.
Ron sighed. He didn't want to think about the particular spot a possessed Harry might consider safe. The truth was that he didn't want to be faced with the prospect of going down there.
"I reckon if Harry really is possessed, then he'd probably think of the Chamber of Secrets as the safest place…especially since he doesn't know that anyone else knows where it is or how to get in."
"That would seem to be a fair assumption, Ronald," Dumbledore agreed, nodding, "But, I must ask…do you feel prepared to enter the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Not particularly; no," Ron replied, frowning, "Especially with the basilisk running loose down there."
"Assuming, of course, Mr. Potter did, indeed, lie when he claimed to have killed the beast," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.
"We both know he did," Ron said grimly, "If the attacks stopped, it's only because Harry – possessed or not – was afraid the school would close and he'd be stuck with his Muggle relatives permanently."
"Then you would need to be prepared, should you encounter the basilisk," the old wizard said, his voice just as grim as Ron's, "You would need to find a way around its deadly gaze."
Ron gave the headmaster a mutinous look. "For someone who needs me alive, you sure don't seem to mind sending me into potentially life-threatening situations."
"Ronald…" Dumbledore began, frowning.
"All this business about telling people my secret in order to help keep me safe," Ron said, talking over top of the headmaster, "But I'm still the one being put at risk; just me."
"Ronald, please…" the old wizard tried to interrupt, but Ron wasn't having any of it.
"Snape could've searched Harry's dorm a lot easier than I could," Ron said, intentionally sneering as he mentioned his hated Potions professor's name, "But you still had me do it. Yeah, I was invisible, but that wouldn't have stopped anyone from coming in and catching me."
"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore spoke sternly, his gaze fierce and his mouth a thin, grim line, "Had Professor Snape been caught searching through his students' personal belongings, it would have raised many questions; questions that might have placed in jeopardy Professor Snape's position within Voldemort's followers. The intelligence that he provides for us as a spy is too important to risk losing."
"And what about all those other Order members who know about me?" Ron asked hotly, his temper taking over for his common sense, "Why not get one of them to help me out? Why do I have to do all this crap alone?!"
"Mr. Weasley, you're being unreasonable," Dumbledore said tiredly.
"Unreasonable?!" Ron yelled, jumping up out of his chair and slamming his fists down on the headmaster's desk, "You kidnap me from my world to replace the dead bloke you needed to fulfill some bloody prophecy…you tell half the bloody wizarding world who I really am while telling me to keep it a secret from my best friend…you expect me to walk around with a ruddy target on my back while performing one dangerous task after another…alone…and I'm the one being unreasonable?!"
"Mr. Weasley, that is quite enough!" Dumbledore said in a voice that would brook no disobedience, "I understand how you're feeling, but I assure you that your secret was revealed only to those Order members for whom I deemed it absolutely essential."
"Like Snape and Professor McGonagall?" Ron replied, folding his arms across his chest.
"Of course," Dumbledore nodded, "They are here to help you, should I ever be unavailable."
"And the Weasleys?" Ron really understood why the Weasleys were told, but he was too angry to be reasonable right now.
"You know that the Weasleys had to be told," Dumbledore said, his eyes flashing with remorse, "They had seen Ronald's body; they knew he was dead. I couldn't very well bring you here and not tell them the truth, knowing that you would encounter the other Weasleys almost immediately."
"Maybe you should have told them not to treat me like I was some bloody Inferius when they saw me!" Ron laughed bitterly, obviously not finding the situation funny, "The way Ginny runs off crying every time I enter a room has people asking questions you don't want answered!"
"The pain of her brother's death is still fresh, Ronald; I'm sure you can understand that," Dumbledore sighed, "However, in time, I believe Ginevra and the rest of the Weasleys will come to accept you as one of their own."
Ron got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at what the old wizard had said. His temper started to rise as he got a bad feeling about what the headmaster was implying. "How bloody long do you think I'm going to be here?!"
"Only until your mission is completed," Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly, "Just as we agreed."
"I didn't agree!" Ron snapped, leaning forward over the wizard's desk, "You didn't give me a bloody choice! You just snatched me away from my world and brought me here, telling me that if I wanted to ever go home again I had to do what you wanted!"
"I believe you're making it sound more sordid than it actually is," Dumbledore said, frowning as he watched Ron rant and rave.
"I don't think I am!" Ron countered, shouting, "You're entrusting my life to people like Mundungus Fletcher – who already cost you one Ron Weasley, I might add – but you tell me I can't place my trust in Hermione!"
Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "Ronald, revealing your secret to other students could prove dangerous…for you as well as for those students."
"…" Ron didn't have a response to Dumbledore's words. He didn't want to put Hermione in danger. With You-Know-Who attempting to rise to power, she was already in danger just for being a Muggle-born; he didn't need to stick her directly in the line of fire to boot.
"Ronald, I understand how frustrating this must be for you," Dumbledore said in a soothing voice, "You didn't ask for any of this, and you must feel as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I do apologize for the difficult circumstances you've been thrust into, as well as for the unusual restrictions I've placed on you. They really are for the best."
"So you say," Ron muttered glumly, folding his arms and taking his seat again.
"I know you were disappointed that you failed to locate Tom Riddle's diary this morning, Ronald," Dumbledore went on, ignoring Ron's comment, "You no doubt thought you would be able to return home soon. I am truly sorry. I will do everything in my power to return you to your world as soon as possible. For now, however, I think it best that we concentrate on the matter at hand."
"Right, because the mission is all that matters," Ron said bitterly, before adding mentally, "At least that's all that matters to you."
"Ronald…" Dumbledore sighed.
"No, I get it, alright?" Ron said, cutting the headmaster off, "I'll do your dirty work…fulfill your bloody prophecy to the best of my ability, but there's something I want first."
"And what might that be, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked, arching an eyebrow curiously at him.
"I've been here a week now, Professor," Ron said, trying to remain calm as he made his demand, "I've been here a week, and I have no idea what's been happening back home since I disappeared. My mum must be going spare; she probably thinks I was kidnapped by Death Eaters or something. Not to mention what Harry and Hermione are going through. I want to know what's going on back home."
"Ronald, I don't think that's a good idea," Dumbledore said, frowning, "Seeing the events that are transpiring on your world would only serve to distract you from your mission here."
Ron crossed his arms and glared at the old wizard. "I don't think you understand, Professor. I didn't ask to be here; I got snatched away from my home and tossed into a situation that I might not live through. With all due respect, Professor…I'm not asking you, I'm telling you; make this happen. I want to see my home, and my family and friends, and I won't be doing any of that barmy suicidal stuff you want – like running off for a jaunty stroll in the Chamber of Secrets – until I do."
"Mr. Weasley, I really do think this is a bad idea," Dumbledore said, furrowing his brow.
"I'm sure you're not used to this level of defiance from your students," Ron replied, "And the truth is, if I was back home and you were my Dumbledore, I wouldn't have the bollocks to talk to you this way. But I'm not home and you're not my Dumbledore and you've just sort of stuck me on a training broom and tossed me onto the pitch to fly with the all-stars; you expect a lot from me, and I don't think it's unfair of me to expect something from you as a sign of good faith."
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh. "I still think this is a remarkably bad idea, Ronald; but I will do what I can. It may take me a few days to prepare a way for you to see into your world…but I will summon you when it is done."
"Good," Ron nodded, "And in the meantime, I'll look into a way to get into the Chamber. Since neither one of us speaks Parseltongue, it's going to be tricky."
Ron was feeling disillusioned as he left Dumbledore's office. The old headmaster seemed to only care about fulfilling the prophecy, leaving Ron feeling like nothing more than a pawn on some unseen chessboard.
Ron knew chess better than he knew almost anything else, and he knew that pawns had to be sacrificed in order for the more valuable pieces to make the moves necessary to win. That was just the nature of the game.
Dumbledore had already let one Ron Weasley be sacrificed in this game, and Ron refused to allow the same thing to happen to him. He'd play the game…he loved chess, after all…but he was done being a pawn. He was going to play the game on his terms now.
His mind traveled back to First Year and the living chessboard beneath the third floor corridor on the right-hand-side. His own words flashed across his mind and he smiled determinedly.
"I'm going to be a knight."
By the time dinner was served in the Great Hall, word had spread throughout the student body about the dungbombs being set off in the Slytherin dungeon. Much to the annoyance of Professor Snape, despite his best efforts to remove the stench, a remnant still lingered behind, no doubt thanks to the amount of dungbombs detonated at one time in such a confined area.
The Slytherins were quickly made the butt of jokes from the other houses, and a rumor spread in hushed whispers that Fred and George Weasley had pulled off the greatest practical joke in Hogwarts history by managing to sneak into another house and set off a prank.
The twins, though originally seeming to be as amusingly surprised as everyone else by news of the prank, did little to quell the rumors that tagged them as the culprits. No one else had stepped forward to claim the credit, and since the notoriety was making them heroes among the other three houses, Fred and George allowed everyone to think that they had, indeed, been the ones behind it.
Ron knew by the way Snape glared at him that he knew Ron was really the one who had set off the dungbombs. However, he also knew that Snape couldn't very well come out and say that. After all, revealing that Ron had sneaked into the Slytherin dungeon would completely undermine the secrecy of Ron's mission…and while Ron didn't think Snape much cared about pulling the rug out from under Ron, he didn't think Snape would openly defy Dumbledore's wishes…even if he, Snape, hated Ron and all the other Gryffindors.
Snape did manage to eke out a bit of justice for his house, however. Since the Weasley twins were willing to take the credit for the prank, Snape didn't seem to have a problem with slapping them with the punishment that went along with the accolades. The twins tried to protest and admit that they hadn't, in fact, pulled the practical joke, but by that time they were already being celebrated throughout the school, so their protests went completely ignored.
Ron felt a tad bit guilty that his prank had nabbed the twins a week's worth of detentions with Snape, but the small part that felt guilty was outweighed by the huge part that was tired of being treated like he was to blame for the situation with their dead brother. As a result, Ron kept quiet about the whole thing.
Of course, keeping quiet wasn't as easy as he'd thought it'd be. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had it even worse off than the rest of their fellow Slytherins, since Ron had made a point of setting off dungbombs inside their trunks, amidst their clothing and personal belongings. As a result, even a week later the three fifth year Slytherins still reeked of dragon dung wherever they went. Ron found himself wanting to gloat and take credit for their misery, but he kept it to himself, no matter how tempting it had been.
During the week following his fruitless search of the Slytherin dungeon, Ron began paying closer attention to Harry during the two classes he had with the Slytherins. His hope was to catch sight of Tom Riddle's diary in Harry's possession in order to eliminate the need to journey down into the Chamber of Secrets.
Ron noticed almost immediately that Harry did not carry a schoolbag with him to class. What he was doing for books during class, Ron did not know, but the important fact he took away from this bit of information is that if Harry did have the diary with him, he'd have to have it tucked away inside his robes somewhere.
It made sense that Harry would keep the book as close to himself as possible, if he was, indeed, possessed by Riddle's diary. Ron remembered how Ginny had been inseparable from the diary when she had been under its sway back on his world. No doubt, the diary would want to be close to Harry at all times in order to keep him doing its bidding.
This presented Ron with a new problem. He had hoped that, upon seeing the diary in Harry's schoolbag, he would be able to slip on the invisibility cloak and surreptitiously remove the diary from Harry's bag with no one being the wiser. Invisibility cloak or not, there was no way Ron could just sneak up and frisk Harry, grab the diary, and be off on his merry way without any resistance from Harry.
Ron was going to have to find a way to search Harry without his knowledge. The only idea Ron could come up with that seemed particularly feasible was to hit Harry with a Stupefy spell first and then go through Harry's pockets while he was unconscious.
Of course, attempting to Stun Harry was not something that Ron considered lightly. Even if he could get over the notion of turning his wand on his best friend – even if he wasn't his best friend in this dimension – Ron still had to take into consideration that Harry was being possessed by You-Know-Who.
When Ginny came under the influence of Tom Riddle's diary, she became capable of doing things she couldn't ordinarily do. Besides suddenly having the stomach to kill Hagrid's roosters and write messages on the walls in their blood, Ginny was also somehow able to speak Parseltongue and control the basilisk.
Ron could only imagine what Harry might be capable doing with Tom Riddle pulling his strings, and it occurred to Ron that a simple Stunner might not do the trick. Attempting to Stun Harry only to have it not render him unconscious would be disastrous. Ron didn't feel like facing a Riddle-empowered Harry in a duel; he valued his life too much.
If he had a teacher that he really trusted, Ron would go to them and ask about an advanced version of the Stunning Spell, but he didn't know anyone he could go to. The school's DADA professor would seem the logical person to talk to about such a spell, but he wouldn't have trusted Umbridge even if she wasn't intent on making the teaching of Defense merely a theoretical pursuit without any actual practical training. Theory wouldn't knock Harry unconscious.
There were others he could go to, but Ron wasn't in the mood to trust Dumbledore and his associates in the Order at the moment. He'd undertake the mission to fulfill the prophecy, since that was the only way to get home, but he wasn't going to tell them how he was going to do it. Dumbledore was keeping too many secrets from him, feeding him only bits and pieces of information when he felt necessary, so Ron thought he'd start keeping his own secrets.
He could hear a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Hermione, telling him that he was being childish, keeping secrets from the adults who were trying to help him. He ignored that voice, however. He could see how the Harry he knew could develop a distaste for authority figures, if this was how he was handled when he was forced to deal with You-Know-Who.
There was one person he thought might know enough about spells to help him. "Hermione would know of an advanced Stunner," Ron thought as he considered his options for learning a spell that a possessed Harry Potter might not be able to counter, "And if she didn't know a spell like that, she'd find one in some bloody book."
Ron knew what he had to do, though the very thought of it made him sick to his stomach. He didn't know what he dreaded more, entering the Chamber of Secrets and facing the basilisk or entering the school library to research the spell he needed.
"I'm glad no one back home can see me," Ron said inwardly as he entered the library after dinner on Friday, "They'd take the mickey out of me something fierce if they ever saw me voluntarily entering the library!"
It had taken Ron the better part of the week to work up the nerve to enter the library and start researching more-powerful versions of the Stunning spell. He tried to tell himself that he was too busy doing schoolwork in order to maintain his cover as this world's Ron Weasley, but he knew that was rubbish and there was no use lying to himself. Ron was horrible at research; he always had been. Anytime Hermione had dragged him and Harry into the library for research, he became quickly bored and easily distracted, leaving the lion's share of the research to Hermione. He wished he could do that now.
Dropping his schoolbag onto one of the empty study tables, Ron headed off into the stacks in search of advanced spellbooks. Two hours later, he stomped back over to the table and dropped heavily into the chair. He felt as though he'd searched every bookshelf in the library and hadn't found one book of spells.
There had been books on magical theory, wizarding history, potion-making, divination, and even magical and Muggle Herbology, but nothing that would aid in actually casting spells. There weren't even any copies of course textbooks such as The Standard Book of Spells. Either there had been a sudden rush by students interested in learning extra spells in their free-time, or someone had removed the books.
Taking a deep breath and trudging up to the front desk, Ron decided to ask the vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, about the missing books. Ron cleared his throat a bit too loudly in order to get the librarian's attention and she shot him a narrowed-eyed glare that made his ears red.
"Do you know where all the books of spells have gone?" he asked, forcing his voice into a library-compliant whisper. She continued to glare coldly at him and Ron figured she needed more of a reason to answer, so he lied to her, "I have an essay due for Defense, and I can't find any of the books I need."
Madam Pince looked away from Ron, as if she'd already wasted too much time on him, and returned her attention to the book she'd been reading before answering him.
"All spellbooks have been moved to the Restricted Section as per the request of Professor Umbridge. You'll need a note from a teacher in order to access them," the librarian said in a pinched sort of nasally voice.
"That's bloody mental!" Ron exclaimed, once again talking much too loudly for the library, "How are you supposed to learn magic if someone goes and hides all the spellbooks?"
"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pince snapped in a harsh, angry whisper, "This is a library, and that is quite enough of your shouting! Get out and don't return until you're capable of being quiet!"
Shooting the librarian a dark look and muttering to himself about wasting two perfectly good hours of a perfectly good Friday in the stupid library, Ron swung his schoolbag onto his shoulder and left, knowing, even as he did, that he would have to sneak back in later after closing, using the invisibility cloak to conceal himself as he stole his way into the Restricted Section.
He hurried up to Gryffindor tower in the hopes of relaxing a bit before embarking on his late night excursion sneaking around the castle after hours. The prospect of stunning Harry to find the diary, and if that didn't work, going down into the Chamber of Secrets, had him feeling tense and anxious. He needed to get out of his school uniform and find some way to kick back and forget everything that was hanging over his head like some executioner's axe waiting to fall.
Relaxation didn't seem to be in the cards for Ron, however, as he climbed the boys' staircase to the fifth year dorm; instead of the room being empty as Ron had hoped, Neville was there, sitting cross-legged on his bed, thumbing through an owl-order catalogue.
Ron cursed under his breath when he saw Neville sitting there. They'd been doing a pretty fair job of avoiding each other since the day Ron found out that Neville wanted to date Ginny. He still found it hard to comprehend – Neville and Ginny – but, then, he didn't really think of his sister as anything other than a young girl…too young for boys.
Neville looked up at the sound of the dormitory door opening, and a look of fear crossed his face as he laid eyes on Ron. Obviously, neither boy wanted to be confronted with the other.
"I'll just be going, then," Neville said shakily, slipping off his bed and preparing to hurry out the door. He clumsily dropped the catalogue he was holding on the floor, but he didn't seem to want to spend the time it would take to bend down and pick it up as he tried to make his quick escape from the dormitory.
Ron sighed as he realized what he needed to do. He was never very good at this sort of thing; with Harry and Hermione, he just waited for whatever disaster was coming down the pike to heal any rifts in their relationship. However, since there didn't seem to be any hippogriff executions or battles with dragons in the offing, Ron had to do it on his own.
"Neville, wait," Ron said, putting a hand up to stop the other boy from scarpering off, "This is your dorm, too; you don't need to run off."
"I figured you'd want to be alone," Neville replied quietly, looking anywhere but at Ron, "You seem to prefer being by yourself these days."
"Fair point," Ron chuckled, trying to break the tension, "I know I've been acting…strange…lately."
"Try completely mental," Neville said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though he still avoided looking at Ron.
"I wouldn't say completely mental," Ron sighed, running his fingers through his hair and loosening his tie, "But, yeah, things have been weird for me ever since I got here. I haven't really been feeling like myself."
"You're not trying to blame the way you've been acting on the flu you had two weeks ago, are you?" Neville asked, looking at him finally with narrowed eyes, "Because that's a little hard to believe."
Ron sighed again. "Look, Neville, we're mates, right? We can be blokes about this, can't we? Sweep it under the rug…bury the hatchet…without having to hash out our feelings like a couple'a birds?"
"So, you just want to pretend the last two weeks didn't happen?" Neville asked, looking almost hopeful, "And just go back to normal?"
"Normal would be a welcome change," Ron replied sardonically, "Whaddya say?"
"There's just one thing, though," Neville said, looking down at his shoes.
"What's that?" Ron asked, hoping that, soon, the tension between them would be resolved.
"You don't like the idea of me dating your sister," Neville said flatly.
"Merlin, Nev," Ron exclaimed, exasperated, "I don't like the idea of anyone dating Ginny; it's not just you! Bloody Hell…this is not what I wanted to do, Neville. All I want is for this tension between us to stop."
"I'd like that, too," Neville said, looking up at him, "But I also want to be able to see Ginny. I really like her, Ron. She's great, and --…"
"Neville, stop," Ron said, cutting across him, "I don't need to hear about my sister."
Neville grew quiet and looked back down at his feet bashfully. Ron sighed, feeling guilty. He felt protective of Ginny, but it wasn't his place; not here.
"Look, Nev…I told you before…treat Ginny right and I'll have no problems with you," Ron said, moving away from Neville and dropping down onto his own bed, tossing his tie onto his trunk and pulling off his jumper, "I can't say what any of the other Weasleys will do, but I'm not going to bother you about it."
"Really?!" Neville exclaimed happily, "Cheers, Ron!"
Ron shook his head, fighting the urge to chuckle at Neville's exuberance, and just like that the tension between them, which had been stretching out between them for nearly two weeks, was gone.
Smiling brightly, Neville moved over to his bed, next to Ron's, and dropped down onto it. It was obvious from the look on the round-faced boy's face that he was thrilled at the cessation of tension between himself and the person he thought was his best friend.
"Do you reckon Ginny would want to go to Hogsmeade with me?" Neville asked, "The first weekend is only about two weeks away."
Ron may have, essentially, given Neville his blessing to date Ginny, but that didn't mean he wanted to discuss it with him. Intending to change the subject and avoid an uncomfortable conversation, Ron reached down and picked up the owl-order catalogue that Neville had dropped while attempting to make a hasty retreat from the dorm.
"What's this, then, Nev?" Ron asked, thumbing through the catalogue.
"Oh!" Neville exclaimed as though he'd completely forgotten what he'd been doing prior to Ron's arrival, "Hermione's birthday is next week and I was trying to decide what to get her. I was thinking a book on the different magical plant species of Britain, since she likes books so much."
Ron bit back a derisive snort at Neville's proposed gift. "Isn't that more along the lines of what you'd like, Neville?"
"Well…what about a nice quill set, then?" Neville suggested, his face falling slightly as Ron shot down his first idea, "I saw a set of eagle-feather quills that looked really nice. She'd like that, yeah?"
Ron gave a noncommittal shrug as he continued to thumb through the catalogue. He wasn't really sure what sort of advice he should give Neville. In the past, books and candy were the main gifts he'd given Hermione, and he would have suggested the same for Neville. However, ever since the Yule Ball when he was forced to realize that he would have competition for Hermione's attention, Ron knew that a more heartfelt and sentimental gift would have to be the way of things from then on.
He'd already bought Hermione's birthday present months ago, but it was tucked in the bottom of his trunk, back home on his own world, and he didn't know if he'd ever get the chance to give it to her. He absentmindedly thumbed through the catalogue as his mind wandered to his Hermione back home and how he wished he could be there to celebrate her birthday with her.
Ron's eyes widened as he found himself looking down at the catalogue, at a picture of the gift he'd bought Hermione. He couldn't help but stare as an anxious tingle ran up-and-down his spine.
"Ron…hey, Ron!"
Ron looked up slowly from the catalogue to see Neville looking at him with a concerned expression on his face.
"You say something, Nev?" Ron asked numbly.
"You alright, mate?" Neville asked, "You seemed to kind of zone out."
"Yeah…no, I'm fine," Ron said, nodding, "I'm sure whatever you decide to get Hermione will be fine. I mean, you know her better than I do, right?"
"That's true," Neville said, smiling.
Before another word could be spoken between the two boys, the dormitory door opened up and Seamus Finnegan popped his head into the room.
"Oy, Weasley!" the Irish boy called to get the redhead's attention, "Granger's downstairs and she wants you. I don't know what you did, but she doesn't look happy."
Ron rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "What now?"
Leaving the dorm, Ron hadn't even reached the bottom of the boys' staircase when Hermione was in his face, looking furious with him.
"What is wrong with you?!" Hermione asked angrily, "We're late again!!"
"Bloody Hell, woman, late for what?" Ron exclaimed, confused as to what he had done to anger her this time.
"We're late for prefect patrol again!" Hermione shouted, glaring at him.
"But it's Friday," Ron replied, "We patrol on Thursday."
"We patrolled on Thursday last week," Hermione explained hotly, "The schedule changes each week. You'd know that if you ever bothered to --…wait a tick…if you thought we had to patrol last night, then you tried to make me do it on my own!"
Ron blushed and looked down at his shoes. The truth was he had avoided the common room until he was sure Hermione would be out on patrol because he didn't want to be alone with her. Things had gotten very awkward and uncomfortable the last time they patrolled, and he had almost revealed his secret to her.
"I cannot believe you!" she shouted, "You are so irresponsible! Why you were picked to be a prefect, I will never know! Neville would have been a much better choice than you. Dean Thomas…Seamus Finnegan…anyone would be a better prefect than you!"
Ron snapped his head up, glaring at her. He was immediately transported back to Grimauld Place over the summer when he'd received his prefect badge and everyone expected Harry to have gotten it. No one believed Ron deserved it. The same was true here, obviously, at least as far as Hermione was concerned. Turning on his heel, Ron stormed over to the portrait hole and began crawling through it.
"And just where do you think you're going?!" Hermione snapped, stomping her foot as he turned his back on her.
"Patrol," Ron spat over his shoulder, "You coming or not?"
Two hours had passed in silence, and Ron and Hermione had just finished their patrol of the sixth floor and were heading back to the stairs to climb to the seventh floor and complete their patrol when they heard voices coming from the direction of the main staircase.
Hermione took off towards the voices, leaving Ron behind. He rolled his eyes at her obvious excitement at catching someone out after curfew. He followed behind her, as she rushed off towards the rule-breakers, glad for something to break up the monotony of their completely silent patrol. He hadn't quite reached the staircase when he heard Hermione confront whoever it was violating curfew.
"What are you doing out this late?" he heard Hermione ask in her best authoritative voice, "You know you're not allowed."
"We had detention with Snape, ickle prefect," said a voice that Ron was infinitely familiar with. He groaned inwardly and quickened his pace.
"And our dear Potions master doesn't seem to care whether or not we're past curfew so long as we've cleaned the bat guts out of all the cauldrons…without magic," an identical voice added a moment later.
Ron reached the sixth floor landing and found Fred and George, both of whom were covered in various forms of foul-smelling muck, looking angrily at Hermione as she stood with her hands on her hips in a self-righteous pose.
"It serves you right, getting detention," Hermione replied pompously, "Sneaking into another house's common room is bad enough, but vandalizing the place while you're there…that's just stupid! You're lucky you didn't cost us any house points!"
"Well, I'm sure you'll take care of that, won't you, Granger?" Fred snapped, "You've been dying to dock us points since you became a prefect."
"You've caught us out after hours," George added, looking at her prefect's badge with disgust, "Now's your chance, Perfect Prefect."
"You deserve to lose house points!" Hermione snapped, stomping her foot for emphasis, "Sneaking around, playing pranks on people, always up to some sort of mischief – it was only a matter of time before you got caught!"
"Maybe if you knew how to have fun, Granger, you wouldn't be dead-set against other people having fun," Fred sniped.
"I know how to have fun!" Hermione shouted.
"What's the last thing you did that was fun?" George asked, grinning mockingly.
"Earlier tonight," Hermione replied haughtily, "I was reading an enjoyable book on the life and times of Hengist of Woodcroft who founded Hogsmeade."
"That sounds like loads of fun, eh George?" Fred laughed.
"Quite right, Fred," George replied, "Scads and scads of fun!"
"Oh, and I suppose running around playing pranks on people makes you the masters of fun?" Hermione shot back.
"We don't just play pranks…" Fred began.
"We also play Quidditch!" George finished with a grin.
"Quidditch?" Hermione snorted derisively, "Quidditch is stupid! It's a waste of time that divides people instead of bringing them together!"
Ron's presence on the landing had gone largely unnoticed while Hermione and the twins argued. He really didn't want to get involved, considering the bad terms he was on with the lot of them. Of course, what Ron wanted and what he got were almost always two different things.
He knew he should have just stayed out of it, but Hermione's comment got the better of him, and before he even knew he was doing it, he'd opened his mouth and put his foot in it.
"Don't let your boyfriend hear you say that."
Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron's voice as if she'd forgotten about him being behind her. The twins narrowed their eyes at him, seeming to have finally just noticed him standing there.
"What did you say?" Hermione asked, turning to face Ron. Her cheeks were red and she looked embarrassed.
"Your boyfriend makes his living playing Quidditch," Ron continued angrily, "He might feel a bit put-out if he knew you thought it was a stupid waste of time."
"Why are you even bringing Viktor into this? This has nothing to do with him," she said, her voice sounding as if she were on the verge of tears, "You're a prefect; you should be backing me up, not ganging up on me with them! Your brothers have broken the rules!"
"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron grumbled.
"Give it a rest? I will not give it a rest, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted, "We're prefects; we're supposed to present a united front when dealing with rule-breakers, and you're undermining me just because they're your brothers!"
"I'm undermining you because you're being ridiculous!" Ron shouted back, unable to resist yelling at her when she was yelling at him, "You're blaming them for being out after curfew; that's not their fault…it's Snape's!"
"It's their fault they have detention!" Hermione continued, "If they didn't play some stupid practical joke, they wouldn't have gotten detention and they wouldn't be out after hours! Clearly this is all their fault, and if losing house points on top of detention helps them to learn their lesson, then good!"
"And what lesson is that, Hermione?" Ron asked acidly, "Having fun is bad?"
"No, you idiot," she spat, "Having fun is not bad, but sneaking into another house and setting off dungbombs – which are contraband, by the way – is bad! They violated at least ten school rules!"
Ron snorted in response to her diatribe, folding his arms across his chest and smirking at her. No matter what universe he was in, Hermione Granger would always be a stickler for following the rules.
"I don't even know why I'm wasting my breath with you!" Hermione snapped, turning away when his only response was a derisive snort, "You're just like everyone else who thought it was a brilliant prank! What an idiot!"
"Of course I thought it was brilliant," Ron snapped, losing all control of his temper after being called an idiot for the second time, "That's why I did it in the first place!"
Ron's eyes widened in shock as, a split-second too late, he realized what he was saying. He wasn't the only one shocked, however. Hermione turned back to face him and she looked as though someone had just proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that "two-plus-two" equals "chair". Fred and George, whose presence had been largely forgotten by Ron and Hermione during their row, kept switching between trading dumbfounded glances back-and-forth and gaping at Ron as though he had two heads.
"You did it?" Hermione squeaked once she had managed to find her voice, "How did you…?"
"Err…" Ron looked away. He'd already said too much, and he didn't want to reveal anything else.
"I'm going to report you," Hermione said coldly, glaring at him when it became obvious that he wasn't going to answer her, "I'll report you to Professor McGonagall and she'll tell Professor Snape. It should be you in detention!"
"Save your breath," Ron chuckled, "Snape already knows it was me; so does Dumbledore, come to that."
"What?!" Hermione gasped in disbelief, "If they knew the truth, then why would Snape give detention to your brothers?"
"Who knows what goes through that greasy head of his?" Ron quipped, shrugging, "He probably did it because those two prats took the credit for it."
"You cheeky bastard!" Fred exclaimed as he finally seemed to regain the power of speech, "You pull prank of the decade…"
"Century!" George interjected.
"Millennium!" Fred amended.
"Of all time!" George said, garnering a node of agreement from his twin.
"And you let us take the fall for it?" Fred continued, still looking beside himself with awe, "That's…that's…"
"Inexcusable!" Hermione exclaimed, glaring at Ron with a mixture of anger and disappointment.
"BRILLIANT!!" Fred and George proclaimed in unison, their faces twin masks of amused delight.
"Ugh!" Hermione groaned, throwing up her hands in defeat, "I will never understand boys in a million years!"
Without another word, Hermione huffed at Ron and then stomped up the stairs. He watched her go, thinking he should probably chase after her, since they still needed to patrol the seventh floor. Ron had just taken a step to go after her when he was grabbed by two pairs of hands and held in place.
"You're not going anywhere," Fred said.
"We're not done with you, yet," George added.
Ron got a sinking sensation in his stomach as he turned to face the twins.
-- END CHAPTER 15 --
AUTHOR'S END NOTES: Looks like Ron's got some 'splainin' to do (God bless Ricky Ricardo!). I hope everybody enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to let me know what you thought. Look for Chapter 16 in two weeks! Until then...keep your feet on the ground and keep reachin' for the stars (and while you're at it, God bless Casey Kasem!)!
~Hawk~