Author's Notes: Happy Anniversary!!! WOOOOOOOO! Today is the one year anniversary of the very first chapter of Mirror, Mirror being posted here on FF. A whole entire year. Man, it's hard to believe. A lot of stuff has happened in the past year for me, personally, and not all of it was good. In fact, quite a bit of it was completely horrendous, but that's neither here nor there. Mirror, Mirror is one year old!!
As promised, here is the second of three consecutive weeks of posting from me, and I hope you enjoy it. A lot of people have asked me continually to post more frequently than once every two weeks. Well, I'm sorry to say that's not gonna happen, except on extremely special occasions like this one.
I was going to hold off and post this tonight, around 8:00 or 9:00, but the truth of the matter is, if I hold off, I might not be able to post. There's a big ol' winter storm barrelling its way towards the Mid-Atlantic states, and there's the potential for power outtages. Wouldn't it suck if I wasn't able to post as promised? Yeah it would.
Anyway, here it is...Chapter 20. Among other things, it features Ron's first Quidditch match. So, sit back and enjoy it, and remember...the next chapter is only seven days away.
Thanks: As always, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed. We're at 460 and counting...the 500 review mark is just around the corner!! Another big thank you to CutewithAcapital-Q for her help as my beta. There's been a lot more back-and-forth between us these last couple of weeks, so she's definitely earned her beta stripes!
Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR, but if she's ready to sell, I'm willing to place a bid!
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 20
"Foreview Mirror"
On Madam Pomfrey's orders, Ron had to stay in the hospital wing for two more days. He didn't mind in the least, since it meant he got to miss out on two days of classes. After the angry blow-up with Viktor, Ron didn't see Hermione again until he left the hospital wing. He did, however, receive his fair share of other visitors.
Neville and Ginny stopped by together on Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch, holding hands and looking much more "coupley" than Ron would ever be completely comfortable seeing. However, they brought with them a large assortment of Honeydukes' finest confections as a "get well" gift for Ron, so he gave them a pass on the hand-holding.
Neville and Ginny both were pretty concerned about him being attacked, but judging by the expression on her face, it was obvious that Ginny was much more upset by it than Neville was. Ron attributed it to her just having come to terms with him, only to have him nearly taken away just like her real brother.
After dinner on Sunday, Ron once again had company, this time it was Fred and George bearing a toilet seat with the words "Get well ickle Ronniekins" emblazoned on it in flashing letters. The twins hung around until Madam Pomfrey kicked them out, joking with Ron and discussing their plans for improving his Keeper skills once he was back on his feet.
Over the course of Monday and Tuesday, Ron also received visits from Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. He suspected that Seamus and Dean were simply bored and couldn't think of anything better to do than visit him – and help him eat some of his candy. With Parvati and Lavender, however, it was obvious that they were in search of juicy gossip, and Ron being attacked was the most interesting thing to occur since the dungbomb incident in the Slytherin dungeon.
Ron's most unusual visit took place Tuesday evening after dinner. He was down to his last Chocolate Frog and it was starting to look like he would be spending his final night in the hospital wing unable to indulge his sweet tooth.
He thought for a moment that he had fallen asleep and was dreaming when the hospital wing doors opened up and an entire chocolate cake came floating in. He soon realized that he was, indeed, awake, when he saw the cake was followed closely by Luna Lovegood, wand in hand and a dreamy smile on her lips.
Luna had convinced her housemates that nargles had laid eggs in the frosting – though she assured Ron that nargles only laid eggs in mistletoe – and since no one touched the cake, she brought it up to Ron, figuring he hadn't yet had dessert.
Touched that the unusual girl would steal an entire chocolate gateau for him, Ron spent the evening engaged in bizarre conversation about creatures he'd never heard of and conspiracy theories that sounded completely mental; all-in-all, though, it was an enjoyable time even if it was in the school infirmary.
Ron had just settled down for his last night sleeping in the hospital wing when the double doors opened quietly and Dumbledore swept into the room. The old headmaster made his way over to Ron's bedside and pulled up a chair.
"Good evening, Ronald," Dumbledore said, leaning in to examine the 'get well' toilet seat the twins had given him, "I understand Madam Pomfrey has authorized your release in the morning."
Ron nodded. "It'll be nice to go down to the Great Hall for meals and sleep in my own bed again."
"Have you given any thought into when you'll make your journey down into the Chamber of Secrets?" Dumbledore asked, his tone of voice, his eyes, and his very demeanor all deathly serious, "Considering recent events, perhaps the time has arrived…?"
Ron paled visibly at Dumbledore's words. He had been nearly killed by the three possible Death Eaters, and now, less than four days later, Dumbledore wanted him to go traipsing around down in the home of a giant snake that could kill him just by looking at him.
"You want me to go down there now?" Ron asked incredulously, "Right after a four-day stint in the hospital wing?"
"If the men who attacked you were, indeed, Death Eaters as you believe, Ronald, then it would seem that Voldemort has decided to target you," Dumbledore replied, "We thought this might happen once he realized that you had failed to be killed at the end of August."
"But I was killed…or, rather, your Ron was killed," Ron clarified
"Yes, but since Voldemort obviously doesn't know the original attempt succeeded, if these men were Death Eaters, then he's apparently decided to try again," the old wizard said, looking sadly at Ron, "So, as you can see, time is a factor. You must act before Voldemort succeeds."
"Before he succeeds in killing me, you mean," Ron said grimly.
"Ronald, Voldemort does want you dead," the headmaster sighed, "Make no mistake about it. According to the prophecy, only you can turn Harry Potter against Voldemort…a situation which could, in all likelihood, lead to Voldemort's eventual destruction."
"Even if I do turn this Harry against You-Know-Who," Ron said, his blue eyes clouded over with uncertainty, "I don't see how your world winds up any better than mine. I mean the other Harry never joined up with You-Know-Who, and he's still no closer to defeating him."
"There is information that you are unaware of, Ronald," Dumbledore said cryptically, "There was another prophecy, and unlike the one concerning you, Sybil Trelawney did not reveal this one in front of the entire population of Hogwarts."
"Another prophecy?" Ron was dumbfounded. How many of these things were there?
"Yes, Ronald," Dumbledore nodded, "This one concerned solely the Chosen One and the Dark Lord, and a power that the Chosen One possesses that can vanquish the Dark Lord."
"A…a power?" Ron asked, confused, "What sort of power?"
"I have an idea or two," Dumbledore admitted, "Though not being overly familiar with Mr. Potter and his capabilities, I cannot be certain."
"And this power can stop You-Know-Who once and for all?" Ron asked, awed by the idea of such a power.
"If the prophecy is true, then the Chosen One's power can destroy Voldemort," Dumbledore said, "But unless the Chosen One is on our side…"
Dumbledore left that unfinished sentence hanging in the air between them, ominously. Ron swallowed a lump in his throat as he realized what the aged headmaster was getting at.
"In order for Harry to use this power and destroy You-Know-Who, I have to turn him against You-Know-Who, which means I have to destroy the diary to break Riddle's hold on him, which means I have to go into the Chamber to get the diary. Bloody Hell," Ron sighed, "Two different prophecies, but both of them related, yeah? And it all comes down to me."
"Indeed it does, Ronald," Dumbledore nodded, "Before Harry Potter can fulfill his destiny, you must first fulfill yours."
"No pressure," Ron said sarcastically before rolling his eyes and sighing. "So, I've gotta go down into the Chamber of Secrets…and soon."
"I'm afraid it would seem so, yes," Dumbledore said apologetically.
"As I see it," Ron said grimly, accepting his fate, "There are two immediate problems."
"I assume you are referring to the basilisk," the old wizard said.
"Yeah," Ron nodded, "That's the more obvious problem. The ruddy snake can kill me about fifty different ways, including just by looking at me. But, before the basilisk even becomes an issue, there's another problem that has to be handled first."
"And that would be?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward, looking intrigued.
"I don't speak Parseltongue; in order to open the entrance to the Chamber, I have to tell it to 'open' in Parseltongue."
"I see," the old wizard nodded, "That does present itself as a problem."
"I don't reckon you're a Parselmouth?" Ron asked, though he felt sure he already knew the answer. The ability to speak the language of snakes was a rare gift, even amongst the Wizarding community, where the rare often seemed commonplace.
"Alas, no, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head, "While I am able to understand the language of snakes, I am not able to speak it."
"Well, the only Parselmouth I know is Harry, and I doubt he's going to open the Chamber for me…"
Ron's sentence trailed off and he looked off into space. The germ of an idea began forming in his mind. He'd seen…and, more importantly, heard…Harry Potter open the Chamber of Secrets twice now…once in Second Year and once a couple of weeks ago. Would that be enough?
"Professor…do you reckon it's possible for someone to imitate Parseltongue just enough to fool a magical object? What I mean to say is…could making the sound be enough without being able to understand the actual language?"
"It's an interesting idea, Mr. Weasley, but I honestly don't know if it would work or not," Dumbledore said, looking intrigued, "I do suppose it would be worth a try. Do you think you could mimic those sounds?"
"I reckon I'm going to try," Ron said determinedly, "And if it works…well…that just leaves the basilisk to deal with. I don't reckon there's a spell that can turn a fifty-foot poisonous snake with deadly eyesight into a puffskein or a pigeon or something?"
"Alas, no," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "I'm afraid Transfiguration on that scale would be beyond the capabilities of most wizards."
"I'm going to need something to get rid of the basilisk," Ron sighed, "Otherwise, there's no point even going down there."
"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, clapping him on the shoulder and getting to his feet, "Try to get a good night's sleep…you're going to need your rest with what's to come."
Ron might have needed his rest, but getting his rest was easier said than done. He lay awake, staring at the hospital wing ceiling, mulling over what he was going to have to do very soon. When Ron finally fell asleep, his dreams were haunted by an ungodly pair of hideous yellow eyes.
When he was released from the hospital wing and rejoined his friends at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, even though his mind was focused on the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk therein, everyone else seemed to have Quidditch on their minds – with the possible exception of Hermione, who seemed to only have the upcoming OWLs on her mind.
The very first Quidditch match of the season was coming up, and while the two teams playing the first match – Gryffindor and Slytherin – were concerned with practices to finish tuning up for the match, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were interested in scouting the teams as they played in the hopes of gaining an advantage when they eventually played against them.
Angelina Johnson nearly pounced on Ron when he entered the Great Hall, encouraging him to find a way to draw upon his inner Weasley talent so they could have a decent chance when they played against Slytherin.
She was hopeful, since Slytherin had been forced to find a new Seeker after Harry unexpectedly quit the team at the beginning of the school year. Her excitement was curbed, however, by the fact that her own team's Seeker had yet to attend a practice.
Hardcore Quidditch fans spent most of their time speculating what would put a team at more of a disadvantage going into a new Quidditch season: a rookie Keeper or a rookie Seeker. When Ron managed to stop thinking about the Chamber and the basilisk long enough to worry about his upcoming performance, he felt certain that he was the greater liability, since a poor showing by him at the rings could have the opposing team running up the score so badly that, even if his team's Seeker caught the Snitch, it wouldn't make a difference.
Fred and George made good on their offer to help Ron improve his Keeping skills. Ginny, too, lent a hand, using the old Comet Three-Sixty that had been Ron's until he received his Cleansweep for becoming a prefect.
Ginny seemed to be a natural Chaser – proving Ron's theory that the "amazing Weasley Quidditch skill" was actually passed down through the Prewett side of the family – and although the ease at which she took to Quidditch made Ron feel worse about his own meager abilities, having to defend against someone fast and agile like Ginny helped hone Ron's own skills once he got over her being so good at the sport.
Away from the pitch, Ron couldn't help noticing Malfoy and his goons stepping up their usual harassment of him to all new levels. Malfoy had looked decidedly put-out the day Ron was released from the hospital wing, shooting murderous looks not only at Ron, but Hermione as well; and day by day, those dark looks just grew darker.
It soon became obvious that all of Slytherin had begun a campaign of harassment, not just against Ron, but against the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team. Insults, rude gestures, and threats gave way to physical violence and hexing as the day of the match drew closer. Half the team wound up in the hospital wing at one point or another, and complaints to Professor Snape about his house's behavior fell on deaf ears as he told the Gryffindors to simply stop being so clumsy.
As if dwelling on his inevitable journey into the Chamber of Secrets – still no word from Dumbledore on getting past the basilisk – and worrying about his upcoming Quidditch performance wasn't enough to deal with, on Halloween, Ron overheard a conversation that gave him something new to think about.
He'd had another training session with Ginny and the twins, and was just leaving the dorm after showering and changing his clothes. The Halloween Feast was already under way, so as he reached the bottom of the boys' staircase, he expected the common room to be empty. Instead, he found Ginny and Hermione so embroiled in their conversation that they didn't notice him come into the room.
Ron was about to make his presence known, but Hermione looked and sounded so desperate as she spoke to Ginny that he thought better of it. Hermione hadn't spoken to him since the hospital wing, and he doubted that she would appreciate him interrupting her. That was why he quietly backed up the stairs and sat in the shadows.
He felt guilty for listening in on the conversation between the two girls, but having Hermione not talk to him was getting on his nerves…especially on patrols; the silence was deafening. If he could find out what was going on with her, maybe he could figure a way to get Hermione to speak to him again.
He was tempted to hurry back up to his dorm room and grab the invisibility cloak, but he was afraid he might miss out on some important tidbit of information. Of course, the first thing he actually managed to hear made him want to head up to the dorm for a different reason.
"Neville's your boyfriend now, isn't he?" Hermione asked, causing Ginny to blush bright red.
Ron had to fight the urge to flee as he realized that this was 'girl-talk' and not some sort of life-and-death problem that involved him. He absolutely did not want or need to hear the 'juicy details' Ginny and Neville's relationship.
"Neville and I haven't made any sort of official declaration or anything," Ginny replied, "But, yeah, I reckon he is."
"I know Neville would never do this," Hermione said uncomfortably, "But what would you do if he ever…hypothetically…told you who you were and were not allowed to associate with?"
"Hypothetically…?" Ginny said, confused.
"Theoretically," Hermione clarified, "Pretend for a moment that Neville came up to you one day and told you that he didn't want you to any sort of contact with Colin Creevy anymore. Say you tried to reason with him, but is final word on the matter was that you're his – Neville's – girlfriend and you are supposed to listen to him."
"Wow, Hermione, you're right," Ginny laughed, "Neville would never do that…especially over someone like Colin."
"Colin's really not a proper analogy here," Hermione sighed, "I suppose someone more like Harry Potter would be more fitting."
"H-Harry Potter?" Ginny stammered, eyes widening.
Ron rolled his eyes and bit back a snort of derision. Apparently even this Ginny had a crush on Harry. He didn't know how Hermione knew that, but he didn't know how it was Hermione knew a lot of things.
He was really starting to wonder what this whole conversation was really about. Was she really interested in Ginny's relationship with Neville, or was this all because of something that had happened between Hermione and Krum? If this was about her and Krum, why come to Ginny for advice? Ron's urge to leave was growing…and yet…if Krum had done something, he wanted to know about it.
"Harry Potter has been cruel to you in the past, yes?" Hermione went on, ignoring the uncomfortable look on Ginny's face, "And yet, you're still attracted to him…am I right?"
"How do you…who told you that?" Ginny asked heatedly.
"No one…it's just something I noticed," Hermione replied, waving Ginny off with a dismissive hand motion, "Now, say you and Harry had started to become friends…and Neville told you to avoid all contact with him."
"That's more something my brothers would do instead of Neville," Ginny said, shaking her head.
"Yes, I realize that, Ginny," Hermione said, sighing in obvious frustration, "Just pretend…please."
Ginny sighed as well, apparently getting just as frustrated. "Well, I suppose if Neville all of a sudden became a possessive arse and tried to tell me who I can be friends with, I'd remind him that I'm his girlfriend and not his house-elf…he doesn't own me…and if he wants me to continue to be his girlfriend, he'd best start treating me right. Otherwise, I have several older, overly protective brothers who would be more than happy to instruct him on the proper way to treat a girl while taking turns beating him to a pulp. And then I'd hex him myself."
"Wow, Ginny," Hermione gasped, looking awed, "Does Neville know what he's gotten himself into?"
"Neville's in no danger," Ginny said, shaking her head, "He's a perfect gentleman; besides, this isn't about me and Neville. Did Viktor really tell you who you can be friends with?"
"It was more like who I can't be friends with under any circumstances," Hermione sighed sadly, wringing her hands, "And before I could make him see reason, he activated his Portkey and left."
"So, who is it that you're attracted to that is making Viktor feel threatened to the point of acting like a possessive git?" Ginny asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she leaned in closer.
Ron would have rolled his eyes at Ginny, but he, too, was leaning in, interested in Hermione's answer. Of course, he had to be more careful lest he give away his hiding place. Was Viktor telling Hermione what to do? Ordering her around like he owned her? The irony that Hermione Granger, of all people, would be treated like a house-elf by anybody was not lost on Ron. However, the idea of Viktor sodding Krum trying to control her like that just gave him one more reason to add to his laundry list of reasons to hate the Bulgarian Seeker.
"I…I didn't say I was attracted to anyone," Hermione said, blushing deeply.
"Sure you did," Ginny nodded, a determined look on her face, "You brought up Harry Potter because even though he's mean and a totally evil wanker, I still used to fancy him."
"Used to?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.
"He's a total prick," Ginny said deadpan, "Definitely 'used to'. Now, stop trying to make this about me and tell me who it is, Hermione."
"It…it doesn't matter who it is, Ginny," Hermione said, looking pensive and nervous, "What matters is what I should do about it."
"Well that's up to you, isn't it?" Ginny said seriously, "Do you want to let Viktor make these kinds of decisions for you? He already decides what you wear…do you really want to let him choose your friends for you, too?"
"He doesn't decide what I wear!" Hermione snapped defensively, "He…he just…"
"Hermione…I really don't know you that well," Ginny said calmly, "We've only been friends for about a month…and before that we only saw each other in the common room or in the Great Hall or what have you…but in all the time we've been at school together, I've only seen you dressed up twice."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Hermione said indignantly.
"The first time I saw you dressed up…with your hair done…wearing makeup…was the Yule Ball," Ginny went on, undeterred by Hermione. Ron, upon hearing the hated words 'Yule Ball' scowled deeply under the cloak. "The second time I saw you all gussied up was the Hogsmeade weekend at the beginning of this month."
"So…?" Hermione huffed.
"So…Viktor is the common factor in both situations," Ginny said smugly, "He bought you the robes you wore to Hogsmeade and I bet the makeup and hair potion wasn't for your benefit."
"What does any of this have to do with anything?" Hermione said angrily, glaring at Ginny.
Ginny sighed. "You asked my opinion; I gave it to you. What you do with it is completely up to you. If you love Viktor and want to make him happy, then do what he says; otherwise, figure out what makes you happy and do that."
"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said, though it looked as though she was no closer to a decision than she was at the start of the conversation.
The two girls finally made their way out of the common room to join everyone in the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. Ron waited a few minutes before following the girls down to the Great Hall, himself.
Viktor and Hermione were having problems, and considering her silence towards him since the hospital wing encounter, Ron was fairly certain that he was the source of contention between the couple. He was understandably curious about what Hermione would eventually decide.
With Halloween out of the way, the first Quidditch match of the season arrived quickly. The day dawned grey and icy; not exactly ideal conditions for playing an outdoor sport like Quidditch, as it looked as though it might start snowing any moment.
As Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, looking down at the breakfast he realized he would not be able to stomach, Angelina Johnson rushed over excitedly and practically jumped on top of him.
"Great news, Ron!" the black girl exclaimed, smiling brightly.
"The match has been canceled?" he replied sarcastically.
"Merlin, no! That would be horrible news," Angelina said, frowning, "I just found out the final lineup for Slytherin – they're fielding two new Beaters as well! Don't you see…almost half their squad is green, while we're only fielding one rookie; our chances of winning just went way up!"
Ron realized what Angelina was trying not to say to him was, "Our chances of winning just went way up despite you being on our team."
"Anyway, I don't know much about their new Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle, but if they're anything like Derrick and Bole, then they barely know which end of a broom you sit on," Angelina said with a grin, "Montague is more interested in brawn than brains when it comes to choosing his team's Beaters."
"That's Crabbe and Goyle," Ron nodded, "I think without Malfoy to give them orders, those two idiots would forget how to breathe."
"Malfoy…that reminds me…" Angelina said, looking nervously over at the Slytherin table, "I don't know what that poncey little tit is up to, but I don't want you to let it get to you."
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, confused. He looked over at the Slytherin table and found Malfoy staring at him with a malicious grin on his pointy-chinned face.
"He gave me this…called it 'a gift'," Angelina said, handing Ron a silver crown-shaped badge with the words 'Weasley is Our King' etched on it. "I have no idea what it means…do you?"
Ron shook his head, fingering the badge. "No idea what it means…but I reckon it's nothing good."
"Just remember," Angelina said, getting to her feet, "You're a Weasley…when you get out there, play like one!"
Ron watched her go for a few seconds before he sighed and turned forlornly back to his breakfast. He continued to look at the badge in his hand. 'Weasley is Our King'. Ron looked up and saw every Slytherin at their table wearing one of the badges. No, whatever it meant, it was definitely not good.
"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Ron," Ginny said from across the table where she sat, eating a bowl of porridge, "Especially with the extra practices you've been taking with me and the twins."
Ron just shrugged at Ginny's words and continued to fidget with the badge.
"Angelina's right Ron…you're a Weasley, and Weasleys rule the Quidditch pitch," Neville said, smiling, "And the Slytherins know you're going to do an amazing job out there, so they're trying to get into your head with those badges."
Ron looked up at Neville. He had a point – the Slytherins would do everything in their power to undermine his self-confidence. That had to be what Malfoy was up to. Before Ron could reply to Neville and Ginny, the brunette sitting beside him decided to speak up. An unusual occurrence, since she hadn't said one word to him since his stay in the hospital wing – though she continued to eat her meals with Ron, Neville, and Ginny – but apparently now she felt it was time to break her silence.
"Can't you see that you're just making him more nervous?" Hermione said scathingly, "Angelina's putting enough pressure on him; he doesn't need you adding to it."
Ron turned and looked at Hermione, completely unable to believe what he was hearing. She spent a month not talking to him, and now, out of the blue, she starts defending him. Ron was definitely confused.
"Well, your boyfriend's a professional Quidditch player, Hermione…what does Viktor do to get rid of his nerves before a match?" Neville asked, no doubt trying to be helpful, but failing miserably.
At the mention of Viktor's name, Ron got up from the table, taking that as his cue to leave. The last thing Ron needed before his first outing as Keeper was to hear about "darling Vicky" and his pre-match rituals.
Without looking back, Ron left the Great Hall, ignoring his name being called by his friends as well as the catcalls and jeers of the Slytherins as he passed their table. He was halfway across the entrance hall when a deafening roar made him jump.
He turned, pulling his wand, to face whatever crazed monster had infiltrated the castle and was bearing down on him this time, only to find himself face-to-face with a dreamy-eyed Luna Lovegood, wearing a hat the resembled a life-sized lion's head…complete with very loud, very realistic roar.
"Good morning, Ronald," Luna said, coming up alongside him.
"Luna…what the blood Hell are you wearing?" Ron asked, smiling at the girl who seemed to get odder every time he saw her.
"I'm supporting you…and Gryffindor, of course," she said, smiling dreamily, "Do you like it?"
"I…it's wicked," he said, nodding. That made Luna smile even more brightly.
"I wanted to have it chewing up a snake…to represent you beating Slytherin, but there wasn't enough time," she said.
"It's great, just like it is," he replied.
"I'll wear it whenever you play…unless of course you're playing against Ravenclaw. Anyway, good luck, Ronald!" Luna shot him one final smile and then made her way to the Great Hall, passing a determined-looking Hermione who only halted her hurried pace momentarily to gawk at Luna's hat before rushing up to Ron.
"Ron, I…what were you doing with Luna Lovegood?" Hermione asked suspiciously, giving him a look that Ron couldn't place.
"She's a neighbor of mine…and a friend," he explained.
"Oh…"
"She was wishing me luck," he explained further.
"Oh!"
"I have to get out to the pitch, Hermione," he said when it didn't appear Hermione was actually going to say anything other than 'oh'.
"Oh…right…yes," Hermione said, nodding as she started to wring her hands nervously, "Ron…listen…about what Neville said…who cares what Viktor does when he's nervous, okay? Just…I…good luck, Ron!"
Before Ron could respond to her, Hermione put her hands on his shoulders, stood up on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. She blushed deeply and ran off towards the marble staircase, leaving Ron standing there, gaping at her. He brought his hand up and gingerly touched the spot Hermione's lips had grazed only moments before.
"Bloody Hell."
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Ron knew, as soon as Angelina handed him that stupid crown-shaped badge, that nothing good would come of today's Quidditch match. He was already nervous when he took to his broom, but when he heard the entire population of the Slytherin bleachers belting out that humiliating song, he might as well have been lying in his bed back in Gryffindor tower for all the good he did his team.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
It wasn't bad enough that Ron was making a poor showing in his debut as Keeper, but he was also driving the rest of his team to distraction. After Ron had failed to stop a fourth goal from being scored, Cormac McLaggen, the team's unusually wide and burly Seeker decided to forego searching for the Golden Snitch in order to criticize Ron's Keeping style.
"Merlin's pants, Weasley, what the Hell are you doing?!" McLaggen shouted, bringing his broom to a stop a few yards in front of where Ron was desperately trying to keep from screwing up any further, "You do realize you're supposed to stop the Quaffle from passing through the hoops, yeah?"
"Shove off, McLaggen…you're blocking my view!" Ron shouted back, trying to see around McLaggen's massive form.
Unfortunately for Ron, Montague – the Slytherin captain and one of their Chasers – used the distraction provided by McLaggen to pelt a Quaffle through the right goal hoop before Ron could even see what was happening.
"You are the absolute worst, Weasley!" McLaggen groaned, clearly oblivious to his own involvement in Slytherin's latest goal, "I wouldn't be surprised if you were born in a bin!"
"McLaggen!" an irate Angelina Johnson suddenly appeared over the Seeker's shoulder, "Leave Weasley alone and get your arse out there and find the Snitch!"
McLaggen rolled his eyes and took off across the pitch, leaving Ron to his Keeping duties…not that it mattered much; Ron still put on an abysmal showing out in front of the rings.
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
Ron missed Quaffle after Quaffle, and instead of doing his job and trying to find the Snitch, McLaggen seemed content to sing along with the Slytherins at mock Ron at every available opportunity.
McLaggen only stopped haranguing Ron when a Bludger pelted past his head, narrowly missing his left ear. When the Gryffindor Seeker turned his attention back to the match, it was obvious that the Bludger had been sent his way by Fred or George and not one of the Slytherin Beaters.
As enjoyable as it was to watch McLaggen nearly get his head taken off by a Bludger, the highpoint of the match…for Ron, at least…was when he was attempting to pass the Quaffle – one of the few he managed to block – to Katie Bell and Draco Malfoy tried to intercept.
Malfoy didn't count on the effect Ron's nerves would have on him, giving him not only poor aim, but also making him use excessive force when throwing a Quaffle intended for a teammate. As a result, the Quaffle smashed Malfoy right in the face, bloodying his nose and nearly knocking him off his broom.
The final score of the very first match of Ron's Quidditch career at Hogwarts was 300 to 70 in favor of the Slytherins. Since McLaggen was so busy harping on Ron instead of actually doing his job as Seeker, the Slytherin Seeker, despite being a complete and total rookie, had a very easy job finding the Snitch at his leisure.
Ron took the loss hard; he'd let in fifteen goals, while the other team's Keeper, Bletchley, had only allowed seven goals to be scored. As if Ron hadn't been feeling the loss to the depth of his soul and blaming himself completely, McLaggen decided to give Ron a dressing-down in the middle of the pitch for everyone to hear, where he let Ron know in no uncertain terms that Gryffindor's loss was entirely his fault.
Ron didn't know whether the rest of the team agreed with McLaggen or not. Ron, himself, certainly did, so he took off, leaving the shouts of McLaggen and the taunting jeers of the Slytherins behind.
Ron wandered the Hogwarts grounds, making a point of avoiding anybody and everybody who might be out looking for him. Somewhere around noon, it began to snow, and Ron found himself regretting his decision to storm off in his sweat-soaked Quidditch gear instead of changing back into his warm, dry, everyday clothes that were sitting in the Gryffindor changing tent waiting for him to return.
When Ron spotted Hagrid's deserted cabin looming in the distance, he made a beeline for it, deciding that breaking into the unoccupied hut was preferable to freezing. The place was dusty and cold, but it was a far-sight warmer – not to mention dryer – than it was outside in the snow.
Holing up inside the half-giant's cabin brought to mind memories of all the times he'd spent there in the past: the birth of Norbert and the subsequent rush to send the dragon off before Hagrid got sacked – earning him a painfully poisonous bite from the dragon; watching under the invisibility cloak as Hagrid got sent off to Azkaban for supposedly opening the Chamber of Secrets, followed by the journey into the Forbidden Forest to speak to Aragog the acromantula – where he was nearly eaten by the giant man-eating spiders; trying to comfort Hagrid prior to Buckbeak's execution and the near-fatal adventure that followed – garnering him a rat bite, a dog bite, and a broken leg; trying to convince Hagrid that, not only did they still consider him a friend, but that they wanted him to return to teaching after Rita Skeeter wrote her article outing Hagrid as a half-giant – but, then, of course there were Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts.
He laughed and shook his head. "I reckon those're what you call bittersweet memories."
Ron managed to get a fire going and was sprawled out in Hagrid's over-sized armchair, warming himself. He had managed to put the disastrous Quidditch match behind him, temporarily, and found himself wondering where it was that the hapless half-giant could be. Two months had passed since the start of the school year, and there was still no sign of Hagrid.
"I'll have to ask Dumbledore about it next time I see him," Ron said to himself, stifling a yawn as the warmth of the fire started making him sleepy, "I just hope Hagrid hasn't gone and gotten himself in trouble."
Thoughts of where Hagrid may be filled Ron's head as the roaring fire lulled him to sleep. Before long, he was snoring away, fully ensconced in a mid-day nap, his unfortunate showing as Gryffindor Keeper long behind him.
Author's End Notes: It seems every time I post, there's some new glitch going on with the system. My apologies for any weirdness with the story format...the editor didn't seem to want to work properly.
Anyway, that was Chapter 20. Next chapter, an old friend returns and Hermione makes a wild accusation. It all happens in 7 short days.