AUTHOR'S NOTE

I'm very excited to publish this, I've been playing around with several ideas for HP fics for months now (I actually have a google account just littered with idea docs and excerpts), but Slytherin!Ron is what really got me to actually write and publish something. Ron's my favorite character in HP, and the idea of him being in Slytherin is something so intriguing I couldn't not write it.

Just to clear some things up: I won't be bashing any characters (even if it may seem like it in the beginning, I will attempt to portray them in an honest light - although I will admit that Ron is going to be a pretty unreliable narrator, so take his actions and thoughts with a grain of salt). I know a lot of Slytherin!Ron fics make him enemies with Draco Malfoy, but I won't be doing that, because I simply just dislike the idea of Slytherins being enemies with each other, and I also just dislike fics that make Draco a one-dimensional, egotistical prat. I mean, the Pottermore Prefect Message for Slytherin is literally that they are like brothers, all members of the elite, and they strongly believe in house loyalty. Ron and Draco are NOT going to be enemies. In fact, Ron isn't going to be enemies with ANY of the Slytherins. He may be enemies with the Gryffindors, though. But I won't make it bashing, just wanted to clear that up.

I was heavily inspired by TheTrueSpartan's Fate, Demon Eyes Laharl's The Red Knight, and little_lazuli's Hiraeth series. I highly recommend you go check these three fics out, they're all incredibly good!

LINEBREAK

Ron slid open the door of the compartment, and found the same boy that his mum had helped get into the platform. He looked to be about his age, if a bit scrawny, with messy black hair that fell over his forehead in bangs and bright green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses held together by a strange, clear substance that looked awfully similar to spellotape. Different brand, perhaps?

"Can I help you?" The boy asked, staring at him, and Ron felt his ears go red in embarrassment when he realized he had been standing at the doorway like an oaf, just staring. He pointed to the seat opposite to the boy.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full."

The boy shook his head and Ron sat down. He snuck a glance at the boy sitting in the same compartment as him, quickly turning away to the window once the boy caught his eye. He didn't look like much. Ron would've expected a boy his age to be a lot taller and healthier-looking, but the black-haired boy in front of him looked like a stick. Not that Ron himself had any sort of physique to brag about, his long, awkward lankiness often being a point of self-consciousness for him, but even his thin stature looked stronger than the other boy's.

Ron rubbed his nose, trying to scrub out the dirt on it from when he had tried to fight Fred before they left this morning for hiding his books and sending him into a right panicked state, and had been wrestled to the ground in their garden, leading to the smudge on his face that wouldn't seem to leave no matter what Ron did.

The door opened, and in slid Fred and George themselves, with the same mischievous glimmer that they always held in their eyes that made them nearly indistinguishable. It was only thanks to Ron being around them for the past 11 years he could tell them apart, but even he had some trouble at times.

"Hey, Ron," George began, and the boy in his compartment perked up upon seeing him. Ron frowned a little in confusion. Did they know each other?

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there." Fred informed him.

Ron felt a little sick in the stomach at the mention of those nasty, horrid eight-legged beasts. Did they really have to tell him about that? He didn't need to picture a bushy tarantula scuttling down the train, especially if the twins were going to be around it. Merlin knows they'd probably find it hilarious to set it on him. Ever since they'd transformed his teddy bear into a spider when he was younger, Ron had been terrified of the creatures.

"Right," he mumbled, looking down.

"Harry," Fred continued, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron Weasley, our brother. Ron, this is Harry Potter. See you later, then.

"Bye," said Ron and the other boy in unison. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

At that exact moment the door slid shut, it occurred to Ron what exactly Fred had said.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out in excitement and shock.

Harry nodded a bit hesitantly, a strange, almost uncomfortable gleam in his eyes, but Ron paid no attention to that. His focus was on the scar of the black-haired boy in front of him, half-hidden by his messy bangs. It didn't look like much, even halfway covered. A simple, thin scar in the shape of what Ron assumed to be a lightning bolt. It was almost boring. Yet Ron knew that was the mark that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had given to Harry Potter 11 years ago, the mark that had destroyed Voldemort and made Harry a hero.

"Have you really got-you know..." Ron pointed at Harry's forehead, wanting to see the scar but unsure of how Harry would actually receive his question.

Harry wordlessly, if a bit hesitantly, pulled back his bangs to show the lightning bolt scar.

Ron stared at it in awe.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-"

"Yes," Harry interrupted before Ron could finish, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly, wanting to know even a little bit about that fateful night. In his rush of excitement, he completely ignored Harry's slight grimace of annoyance.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," breathed Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, just taking in the fact that the boy-who-lived was sitting in his compartment.

Harry shifted, and spoke again after Ron didn't say anything to him as the seconds ticked by, just staring at him in awe.

"Listen...Ron, was it? I…only really found out about who…I am, I guess, pretty recently. This fame thing is new, and to be honest, kind of annoying. So…could you not gawk at me like that?" Harry finished his words a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "It's kind of pissing me off, to be honest..."

Ron gaped at him, his awe at seeing the Harry Potter bleeding into confusion and a different kind of shock. He didn't like his fame? Ron found the thought of that almost preposterous. He would have loved the idea of being famous, especially as famous as Harry was. His name would've been in the textbooks! How incredible would that have been?

"Your fame's kind of annoying?" Ron asked incredulously. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? If I was famous, I'd be beside myself! Merlin knows that mum and dad would have something to measure me up to my brothers. It's not as great as it sounds being in this large of a family, y'know, you always have to try to compete with everybody else. They've been overshadowing me ever since I can remember. Gets on my nerves. Plus, who wouldn't want attention? I know I would."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't like everyone fawning over me like I'm some sort of rare zoo exhibit," Harry snapped suddenly. "So just leave it, will you?"

Ron blinked, floundering in search of something to say but unable to come up with anything, before his face settled into a slight scowl. Famous or not, Harry Potter was starting to sound like a git. Ron had just been surprised that he didn't like his fame! What right did he have to snap at him?

And what was a zoo? Some sort of muggle contraption?

"Are you seriously complaining about being bloody famous? It's a damn sight better than what I've got for me, being ignored by everyone. At least people know who you are."

Harry glared at him.

"Yeah, people who I want nothing to do with," he retorted. "Y'know, I'd much rather fade into the background than stick out like a sore thumb. I'm not a zoo animal!"

Ron gaped at him. Was this guy for real? Was he so damn arrogant that he didn't like it when people recognized him? This wasn't anything like the Harry Potter he'd expected!

"What, d'you think you're too good for other people?"

"That's not remotely what I said-" Harry began.

"And what the bloody hell is a zoo?" Ron demanded.

Harry just stopped and stared at him almost incredulously, as if Ron had said the stupidest thing in the world. Ron was about to say something more, even if he was unsure of what to say, but before he could, Harry suddenly stood up and moved to the door of the compartment.

"I think I'll go find another compartment." He told Ron. No elaboration. No explanation. Just telling him that he wanted to find another compartment without even having the courtesy to say why, or even just say goodbye.

"Whatever," Ron snorted. "Good luck trying to find someone who doesn't recognize you, though. Gonna be hard to make friends with that attitude." he added moodily after a second.

Harry just glared at him once more.

"I'd be more worried about your attitude, Weasley," was all he said before he stomped out of the compartment and slammed the door shut. Ron just sat there, scowling as he listened to the noise of Harry's footsteps slowly trail off.

And then he was alone. Forgotten once more. Just as he always was.

So it's Weasley now, is it Potter?

What was his problem? Ron had just been surprised at his opinion of being famous, and called him out on it. Did he really deserve that kind of retribution? Of course he didn't! Potter had no right to snap at him like that, famous or not! Who did he think he was? He didn't understand Ron, the one who was always ignored and overshadowed and pushed to the side. He didn't realize how desperately people like him wanted to be seen, and how frustrating it was to see people take that attention for granted.

Harry Potter had it all. He was famous, he was rich, he was special. He had everything Ron didn't. Recognition, money, the whole package. And yet he had the nerve to say that he didn't like his fame, that he didn't want to be recognized.

Here he was, the sixth son, constantly overshadowed by his overachieving brothers. Bill, Head Boy and a Curse Breaker. Charlie, star seeker and now a bloody dragon tamer. Percy, who'd gotten twelve OWLs and was Prefect. Hell, even Fred and George, who, even though they pranked everybody, were funny and smart and everyone liked them. And of course, who could forget precious Ginny, the only girl of the family, coddled by everybody?

He was unimportant. Lost in the looming shadows of the rest of his family. And then Harry Potter had come in and had the nerve to get angry at Ron because he was in awe of his fame. What kind of bloody prat wouldn't enjoy being recognized? Ron knew that he would love that, for sure.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that the people who had recognition, who had money, who had power had the gall to say that they didn't want it, while people like Ron were stuck trying their uber best to climb out of the dirty, bottom fed trenches. Merlin, what he wouldn't do to even have a shred of Harry Potter's fame or wealth. Wouldn't that be something! As he walked around, people would recognize him. They'd stop him, ask him to sign their parchment or robes, or take a picture with him. People would stare at him in awe and respect. Like he was finally somebody. Somebody important! Somebody actually worth something beyond being the forgotten son of an already unimportant family.

He wanted what Potter had. No, he needed what Potter had. Success, power, money, Ron needed it all. He needed to prove himself as worth something, because for his whole life, he had grown up believing that he was nothing. That he was just a side-character. He was the sad add-on nobody would pay attention to.

Ron felt his lips curl into a frown as he pictured Potter's face, alight with anger as the git yelled at Ron for daring to recognize him and treat him like a celebrity. Merlin, was he really that arrogant that he didn't even accept being famous?

No, he wasn't jealous of Harry Potter. Not at all. He was just upset that he was completely ignoring the luck he had gotten with how famous he was. Why would he be jealous? The fact that he was ignored by everyone just meant that he has more of a cause to be upset at Potter for, not that he was jealous of his fame. Obviously.

As Ron's mind continued to spiral down into angry, hurt thoughts about Potter, he felt a weak scratch of claws in his right pocket as a tiny squeak made its way to Ron's ears. Sighing, he stuffed his hand into the pocket and fished through it for a second, before grabbing a fat, fuzzy figure and pulling it out and holding it up to his face.

Scabbers stared back at him, beady black eyes boring into Ron's own. Sometimes, Ron wondered if Scabbers was actually just a normal garden rat. There were moments when Scabbers' eyes looked just a little too human, a little too intelligent. Maybe he was a magical breed? Percy had discovered him in their garden, perhaps he'd bit one of the gnomes and absorbed their magic or something. But he brushed it off when he recognized the familiar look of hunger in the rat's eyes. Sighing, he pulled out his mum's corned beef sandwiches, feeling a flash of anger as he gazed at the confection.

She always forgets that I hate corned beef...

Ron almost gave into his base instinct and had to hold himself back from chucking the sandwich across the compartment. Instead of doing that, he broke off a piece and held it in front of Scabbers, the fat rat eagerly scampering forward and stuffing his mouth with the treat.

"You're a stupid, fat, useless rat, y'know that?" Ron frowned at his pet. It wasn't even his pet, Percy had kept it with him for years before giving it to him upon receiving an owl.

At that, Ron once again felt a flash of hurt and anger at how forgotten and unimportant he truly was. All of his other siblings had received their own wands. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, everyone. Ginny would probably end up getting her own for next year, too. But when his mum and dad had a choice between buying Ron a wand and buying Percy a Merlin-damned pet, what did they choose? Not anything for Ron, of course. He was stuck with Charlie's old wand while Percy was off flouncing around with his brand new owl, no doubt showing it off just as much as he liked to flash his Prefect's badge in everyone's face.

Scabbers just stared back up at him, before squeaking slightly in response to Ron, almost as if he was aware of Ron's sour mood.

"But at least you see me for someone, y'know?" He said offhandedly. "I'm more than just Ron Weasley, the sixth son, I'm the bloke who gives you your food and lets you sleep in my pocket. At least you can see me for something, eh, Scabbers?"

The rat didn't seem to acknowledge what he said, instead choosing to curl up and take a nap in Ron's hand. The redhead breathed out a gusty sigh, before putting Scabbers back into his pocket and leaning back into his seat as he stared out of the window, grassy fields of green whizzing by.

It was going to be a long train ride.

LINEBREAK

Ron decided that the train ride to Hogwarts was the most boring, stupid thing in the world.

He'd been completely alone the entire ride. Not one student had ever entered his compartment, the only person actually doing so being the trolley lady asking him if he wanted anything from the cart. And of course, being poor, Ron had to embarrassingly refuse and say that he didn't have any money to pay her. That had stung, especially after Ron had gazed at all of the confections that were stocked there. Chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, Bertie Bott's, all treats that Ron couldn't afford.

But other than that single interruption to his monotonous train ride, there had been nobody who'd even come close to his cart. He was left there alone, with nobody except Scabbers for company, who didn't even count because all he was doing was sleeping. Round found himself wishing for something, anything to happen so he could just be a little less bored.

"Sorry," a voice came from the door to his compartment. "But have you seen a toad at all?"

Ron jumped, slightly startled at the sudden voice, before turning to the door to see a round-faced boy who looked near tears.

"What?" He asked, unsure if he had heard him correctly. Who the hell would bring a toad to Hogwarts? They went out of fashion a century ago!

"Have you seen a toad anywhere?" The boy repeated. "I've lost mine. His name is Trevor."

Good Merlin, he hadn't heard wrong. Ron's initial confusion fizzled away as his formerly bad mood rose up once more. He crossed his arms, adopting a surly expression on his face.

"No," he scowled. "But I don't see why you're bothering to look for it. If I had a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could."

The boy looked even closer to crying at Ron's words.

"But my great-uncle gave him to me as a present for getting into Hogwarts…" he said meekly.

Ron just sighed, not feeling in the mood to deal with someone who looked like he would burst into tears at any second.

"If you want to get made fun of at Hogwarts for having a toad, be my guest, mate. I already told you I haven't seen it, what more do you want from me?"

The boy, frowning at Ron, fled the compartment as quickly as he could, and Ron slouched back into his seat.

Not two minutes later, the boy was once again pushed into his compartment, followed by a frizzy haired girl and…Harry Potter, whose eyebrows raised in surprise at seeing Ron there.

Damn, not him, too.

"You're still here?" Potter asked. Ron, who couldn't imagine feeling starstruck at seeing him anymore. Just look at his stupid, arrogant face! The berk seemed surprised that Ron was sitting here alone, no doubt looking down on him just like everybody else.

Arrogant git.

"What's it to you?" Ron asked coldly. "You sure were happy to leave my car, weren't you?"

Potter stepped back, looking uncomfortable.

"What's your problem?" The bushy-haired girl asked in a condescending manner. "We're just here to ask if you've seen a toad around here. Neville's lost his."

"Hermione," the boy mumbled, carefully not meeting Ron's gaze. "I already came here...I don't think this boy is in a good mood...we should just leave..."

"And I've already told him that I hadn't seen it," Ron said shortly. "Happy? Now if there's nothing else, can you leave?"

Potter, the twat, had the nerve to scowl at him.

"You need to cool your temper, Weasley," he said stonily. "We're just trying to find Neville's pet. If you hadn't seen it, that's all you needed to say."

"And I already told you that I've already told him I haven't seen it!" Ron snapped. "What was even the point of coming here? Trying to rub it in my face that you've made some friends now, have you? You know, ones that don't fawn over you…like what was it? A voo exhibit?"

Pottter scowled at him.

"I left your car because you were being a rude, jealous arse," he bit out. "I said it before, and I'll say it again. Fame isn't everything, Weasley. You don't know what it's like to actually deal with that."

Ron snorted.

"Right, because being known throughout Britain and having your name praised by everybody is a bad thing." He sneered at Potter. "Merlin, you're arrogant. Do you honestly think you're that much better than everyone else?"

"Yes, yes, I understand that you're jealous of your older brothers," Potter snapped. "I can see why, too, if this is the kind of person they have to overshadow. Must not be hard."

"You're an arse, Potter," Ron snarled back. Arrogant prick. Is this really the boy-who-lived?

"You're being downright nasty to Harry," the girl (Hermione was her name?) said haughtily. "He hasn't done anything to you. You should apologize."

Ron frowned at the girl. Who in Merlin's name did she think she was?

"I'm not apologizing to anyone," he responded in a snappy tone. "What's it to you, anyways? Who even are you people?"

"I'm Hermione Granger, and the boy who lost his toad is Neville Longbottom thank you very much," she said snippily. "And we care because Harry's our friend."

Ron snorted in disbelief at that.

"Friends?" He echoed. "You've probably only known each other for a couple hours. You can't be friends after only just meeting each other."

"Clearly you don't know anything about friendship," Potter retorted coolly. "Maybe if you stopped being so horrid to everyone, you'd understand."

"Y-yeah," Longbottom stammered. "Y-you're not being very nice right now..."

Ron rolled his eyes. Was Longbottom, who looked like he would collapse from fright if he simply said boo, really trying to pick a fight with him?

"Merlin, why are you guys still here?" He complained. "I already said I don't have your stupid toad...Longbottom, was it? So can you just leave already?"

"Why are you being so rude?" Potter challenged. "Answer that, and we'll answer your question."

Ron scowled at the boy, jumping up to his feet and walking over to them, reveling in the fact that he was a good bit taller than them all and had to even look slightly down at them to meet their eyes.

"I'm just warning you, Potter," Ron spat. "You're hanging around the wrong sort. Neither of these people," Ron turned to look at Longbottom and Granger. "Will get you anywhere in our world."

Potter gazed back at him just as icily.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." He turned to the crying boy and the girl, who was openly glaring at Ron now, probably for what he had just said. "C'mon, Neville, Hermione, let's get out of here."

With a final glare, sniffle, and scowl, the trio made their way out of Ron's compartment, leaving him on his lonesome once more.

Good riddance, he thought darkly. Who would've thought that Harry Potter could be such a jerk? He wondered what Ginny would think about that, she'd always been obsessed with him and the story of how he killed You-Know-Who.

Ron just settled back into his seat after breathing a gusty sigh.

"Might as well change into my robes now," he muttered to himself. "No point in scrambling for them when the train stops. Not like I've got anything else to do, I guess."

However strange this train ride was, Ron knew two things for certain.

One, Harry Potter was an arse.

Two, he would find a way to prove himself. Screw whatever Potter said, Ron wasn't about to take it lying down. The berk may have been too arrogant to accept his fame, but Ron sure as hell wouldn't be. He may not have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth like Potter, but what he did have was ambition. The ambition to become great, the ambition to become somebody.

And people like Harry Potter weren't going to stand in his way.

LINEBREAK

After a while, the train finally came to a stop, and Ron, already having changed into his school robes, was able to walk out onto the station at a leisurely pace, feeling more than a bit chuffed with himself for thinking ahead when he saw people in the compartments around him scrambling to put on their robes. His bad mood had mostly faded away by then, the excitement of finally being able to attend Hogwarts taking over.

As Ron was pushing his way through the crowd of first years onto the dingy, dark platform, he heard a booming voice, almost as if it had been enchanted by magic, echo throughout the station, and the light of a lamp appearing over his and the rest of the first years' heads.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" A massive, hairy man, standing at about double their height, called from the front of the crowd of students.

"C'mon, follow me! Any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Ron and the rest of the first years scurried to keep up with the massive man as he walked in the direction to the castle. Despite the damp, cold, and crowded situation he was in, Ron couldn't help but ignore all of that once the castle came into view. His brothers had all described it to him before, but seeing it in person was even more incredible than he could've imagined.

"It's so pretty," the brunette that was walking by him breathed. As Ron instinctively glanced at her, she somehow glanced back at the exact same time, and smiled at him.

"Hey," she greeted. "I'm Tracey. Tracey Davis. You?"

Ron blinked at her friendliness, but quickly relaxed and responded. She didn't seem as rude as that Granger girl, or as annoying as the Longbottom, or as arrogant as Potter. Maybe he'd make his first friend right now.

"Ron Weasley," he replied easily. "You excited?"

The girl, Tracey, nodded eagerly, and her green eyes sparkled. "Yeah! I've been hearing stories about Hogwarts for years from my parents, it's a dream come true to be here myself!"

Ron found himself smiling from her infectious enthusiasm.

"Me too," he agreed. "My older brothers love it here. Got three of them waiting up in the castle right now, actually,"

"Do you really?" Tracey gushed. "I wish I had siblings," she sighed longingly. "But no, it's just me and my parents. Not that they aren't great, but it'd be nice to have someone close to my age, you know?"

Ron shrugged at that. He loved his brothers, of course, and he had great fun with them a lot, but having siblings wasn't as glamorous as Tracey seemed to think it was. But as he opened his mouth to warn her that having siblings wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, the large man in front of them spoke once more.

"Now that we're here, I'll need all o' you to find a boat to cross the lake!" the man roared. "No more'n four to a boat, y'hear me?" He called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Ron and Tracey both ambled over to the nearest boat to them, and were joined by two more students - a posh looking boy with a haughty smirk on his face and a pretty blonde girl.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then. FORWARD!"

As the boat glided on the lake, Tracey spoke up once again.

"Are my eyes mistaking me, or has the great Daphne Greengrass herself deigned to sit in my boat?" She was staring at the blonde girl, expression full of mirth.

The blonde (or "Daphne", Ron supposed), merely gave a sniff that Ron had a feeling was a bit exaggerated to be real.

"Count yourself lucky, Tracey. I'm only here because the other boats are taken," the corners of her lips turned up slightly at Tracey's affronted gasp.

"How dare you?" She responded. "And I thought we had a special connection! Or does our friendship mean nothing to you?"

Ron just stayed silent as he watched the two girls settle into playful banter. The other boy, blonde and sharp-looking, his hair slicked back with gel, eyed him up as the girls talked.

"Excited to go to Hogwarts?" He asked. Ron blinked in surprise once he realized that the boy was talking to him, but nodded.

"Yeah, I am. My older brothers have told me a lot about it," Ron grinned. "Two of them fancy themselves as Hogwarts' premiere pranksters, so I'd watch out if I were you."

The boy smirked at that.

"I'm sure it's nothing I won't be able to deal with," he responded. "So, you got siblings up there, do you? How many?"

"3 right now, but I've technically had 5 that went to Hogwarts overall. My two oldest brothers graduated, though."

"Merlin, you've got 5 siblings?" The blonde looked shocked. "How'd you manage to stay sane?"

"Six, actually, got a younger sister back home," Ron smiled ruefully. Finally, someone seemed to get him a little! "And yeah, it can be a struggle, but nothing I can't handle.

The other boy had a thoughtful look on his face.

"Y'know, I don't think I caught your name. Tell me that, would you?"

"Oh, yeah. The name's Ron. Ron Weasley."

The other boy, if possible, looked even more surprised at that.

"Bloody hell, you're a Weasley?" He exclaimed. Tracey and Daphne turned over at his sudden outburst.

Ron felt his smile melt off of his face at the other boy's reaction to his name.

"What's it to you?" He asked, warning in his tone.

"Nothing, just that you seem surprisingly pleasant for a Weasley," the blonde responded, his expression shifting back into calm, blinking. "My father complains a lot about yours, y'know."

"And who's your father? Maybe my dad does too," Ron responded, curiosity overtaking his previous irritation at the boy's gobsmacked expression upon finding out his surname. After all, his father didn't have much, if any enemies outside of blood purists. Was this boy one of them?

The blonde looked pleased at the question.

"Took you long enough to ask," he smirked. "My father is Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. My name is Draco."

Now, it was Ron's turn to be surprised.

"Bloody hell, you're a Malfoy?" Ron explained, unintentionally echoing "Draco's" earlier reaction to finding out his own parentage. "And I thought you seemed alright!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

"My dad doesn't like yours either," Ron responded, feeling a bit put out at the nice boy in front of him turning out to be a Malfoy, of all people.

Draco frowned.

"I suppose that means we should be fighting then, do you think?"

Ron considered that, and shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't really like your dad, my dad complains about him a lot, but I think you seem alright."

"I suppose I'd say the same about your father and you as well," Draco agreed. "And I rather doubt we'll end up going to the same house, anyways. I'm trying to get into Slytherin, of course. What about you?"

Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

"My entire family has been in Gryffindor, so I'll be going there, probably. Kind of sucks, because I'm trying to stand out from my siblings, but I'd rather be Gryffindor than anything else."

Dracro raised an eyebrow at that.

"Trying to stand out, huh?" His eyes held a thoughtful gleam. "Perhaps you'd do well in Slytherin. Ambition is one of our traits, after all."

Ron pulled a face at that.

"Slytherin? Merlin, no! I'd sooner get pulled out of Hogwarts! I'd sooner fade into the shadows of my brothers completely!"

Draco sneered at his reaction.

"Slytherin is a much better option than Gryffindor," he retorted.

"That's not true-"

"Boys, boys," a feminine voice interrupted primly, and Ron and Draco turned to see the blonde haired girl (Daphne, if Ron recalled correctly), looking at them with a haughty expression. "As fascinating as it is to watch, there's no need to start a fight before we even reach Hogwarts. Your fathers being enemies doesn't mean you two have to."

Ron and Draco both fell silent, and Ron considered her words. Technically, she was right. Draco hadn't been downright rude to him like Potter had, and even though his dad had often and vigorously complained about Lucius Malfoy and his "blood purist policies", Draco seemed like a nice enough guy overall. Maybe he'd be one of the good Slytherins (or better yet, not a Slytherin at all).

"Right, sorry 'bout that," Ron muttered. "You seem like a decent chap, I suppose, even if you do want to go to Slytherin."

Draco regarded him almost as if he was trying to look for a hidden insult or something, before he finally nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but was then interrupted.

"Heads down!" a voice boomed. Ron instinctively complied, and felt a strange, tickling sensation on his head. As he looked up when it disappeared, he saw a curtain of ivy behind him. At the moment, they were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where Ron, after smiling quickly at the three other students on his boat, climbed out of the boat and onto the rocks.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said the large, hairy man.

"Trevor!" cried the boy Ron remembered from the train, Longbottom, blissfully, holding out his hands.

"What a crybaby," he heard Draco mutter under his breath, eyes narrowing as he watched Longbottom, the girl (Granger, he thought), and Potter eagerly make their way over to the castle.

Ron frowned at the sight. Potter had already been antagonistic to him, and Granger was pretty rude as well, but Longbottom hadn't really done much. Was there really a need to antagonize him?

"Look at them," he heard Draco spit. "The precious boy-who-lived and his happy little gang. It's revolting."

"You don't like Potter either?" Ron asked before he could stop himself, thoughts shifting away from Longbottom.

Draco turned to him, evident surprise on his face.

"No," he said slowly. "I would've thought you'd be kissing his arse, though."

Ron snorted in disgust at that.

"Absolutely not. He's an arrogant prat who thinks he's better than everyone around him. Couldn't care less for someone like him."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that and surveyed him almost appraisingly.

"I couldn't agree more, Weasley," he nodded approvingly. Ron instinctively smiled at that, and nodded back. Maybe he and Draco wouldn't ever talk again after the Sorting happened, but until he was actually put in Slytherin, Ron didn't see anything wrong with being friendly with him.

"Both of you, shut up!" Tracey whispered. "We're about to enter the Great Hall! I heard you can see the sky in it when you look at the ceiling!"

Ron glanced away from Draco and towards the castle, and found that Tracey was right and the large man had knocked on the doors.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there, her severe face making Ron feel a bit nervous.

This must be Professor McGonagall.

Ron had heard stories about her from his older brothers. While Bill and Percy sang her praises, claiming she was one of the greatest Transfiguration masters of the age and an incredible teacher to boot, Fred and George had told a completely different tale, making her out to be a rules-obsessed lunatic who'd make you serve detention for the entire term should you be caught after hours. Charlie, on the other hand, had given a far more neutral description of her, calling her strict but fair, and reassuring him that as long as he didn't get on her bad side or break the rules too much, he'd be fine.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the hairy man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

McGonagall pulled the door wide open, and the Great Hall came into view. Many students gasped in awe at the sheer size of it, and Ron couldn't blame them. It was massive, easily 3 to 4 times larger than his own house. The walls were lit with elegant stone torches, a marble staircase winded up to the upper floors, and the hall was filled to the brim with students, each sat in one of four tables.

For the four houses, Ron realized.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." She paused, as if watching to see if anyone had any questions, before continuing her speech.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Ron felt a pit of nerves settle in his stomach. A credit to his house? What would happen if he wasn't, then? Was there some sort of punishment for not being up to snuff?

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school." McGonagall said. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Ron didn't know if he was imagining it or if her eyes lingered on him. He self-consciously rubbed his nose at that and frowned.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

And with that, she strode out of the hall.

"Hey," a soft voice came from next to him. He turned to see the blonde girl from the boat ride, Daphne. "You have dirt on your nose."

Ron frowned even deeper at that, a gaping hole of worry growing in his stomach.

"Gee, thanks, I didn't realize," he retorted sarcastically, an instinctive reaction to cover up his embarrassment. Daphne's eyebrows pinched together in a seeming sign of annoyance at that.

"I was just about to offer to cover it up, but I suppose if you really want to walk into the Sorting like that, you can be my guest." She sniffed before turning to face the opposite direction.

Ron just stared at her with furrowed eyebrows.

Merlin, what is with her? I don't even know this girl!

"Don't worry about Daphne," another voice whispered into his ear, and Ron turned to find Tracey standing next to him, her green eyes gleaming with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "She can be a bit sensitive at times. Here, let me."

Tracey uncovered her wand and pointed it at Ron's face. Ron had to force himself to not instinctively move out of the way.

"Celarus," she intoned, and tapped his nose. Ron felt a strange sensation on his face for a split second, like somebody was patting powder on it, before it went away. He frowned in confusion.

"What was that?" He asked.

"The concealment charm!" Tracey responded happily. "My mum taught it to me. Us witches usually use it to hide our blemishes, but it'll work for you boys in a pinch too. Does wonders for things like dirt and other marks."

Ron immediately wondered if his mum had taught Ginny that spell, and felt a bit of jealousy rise up at that. He quickly shook that thought out of his head, however, and rubbed his nose, realizing that Tracey was right, the smudge on his nose was finally gone.

"Thanks," he shot her a small smile. She just grinned back at him.

"Calm down, Neville," Ron suddenly heard Potter whisper. He turned and found the messy-haired boy attempting to comfort the sniveling, round-faced boy from the train. "It's not going to be that bad. I'm sure the Sorting will be just fine."

Ron looked in his direction, frowning at the sniffling Longbottom. What was his deal? Was he trying to get attention by acting like this? Ron didn't want to insult a crying man, but Merlin, he looked pretty pathetic, being comforted by Potter and Granger in front of literally everybody.

Fred and George would probably try to prank him or something, Ron thought. He's just their type of victim.

Ron gave an involuntary smile at that, and decided that he may as well follow in their footsteps, and that now was a good time as ever to have some fun.

"You know," Ron made sure to say loudly. "My brother Fred told me that there's a test to determine where you're sorted. It hurts a lot, apparently. Something like wrestling a troll, I think?"

Longbottom whimpered at that, and Ron caught Draco's eye, who smirked slightly and gave him the barest of nods.

"My father told me the same," he drawled. "And if you fail, they strip you of your magic and send you to work in the broom factories."

Ron and many others around them were snickering at the panic on Longbottom's face, and how Granger and Potter were frantically trying to calm him down.

Draco may be a Malfoy, but he doesn't seem half bad, Ron thought. Maybe he's different from his parents.

Ron hoped he was. He didn't know what his parents would say if they caught him fraternizing with a blood purist or other type of bigot.

Tracey seems nice enough, too, Ron thought. I hope she'll get into Gryffindor too.

Daphne seemed alright, if a bit aloof. Ron didn't have much of an opinion of her, but he wouldn't mind getting to know her a bit more.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air. Several people behind him screamed.

"What the-?"

He gasped. So did the people near him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance."

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost. I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," came a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Ron swallowed his nervousness down his throat, and followed McGonagall with the rest of the first years, sandwiched between Tracey and Daphne. Draco was strutting in front of him, looking as if he owned the Great Hall.

As Ron looked up at the ceiling, he started in shock to see that it was showing the night sky, shimmering with stars.

"Called it!" Tracey whispered excitedly. "That's so cool!"

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History!" Ron heard Hermione say in a pompous tone. He fought the urge to groan at her obvious superiority complex. His eyes met Daphne's, and he mimed gagging. The corners of her lips tugged upwards slightly and her blue eyes flashed with a hint of amusement, but other than that, she showed no sign he'd even looked at her.

Ron looked into the Great Hall, and grinned. He saw Fred, and George, and Percy, all waving at him excitedly, and waved back. He may have been jealous of them, he may not even like them all that much at times, but maybe in Hogwarts, that would all change! They were his family! They were going to be together in school! It was going to be awesome!

This was it! This was his future! This was where he'd finally make a name for himself, where he'd finally be acknowledged for who he was!

And the first step to that was to get sorted into Gryffindor!

But how're you going to stand out if you follow the path of everyone else in your family?

Ron started a little bit, considering the thought and the memory of what Draco had told him on the boat ride for a split second before he shook his head rapidly. No, no, he had to be a Gryffindor! He was a Weasley! There was no other place for a Weasley to go other than Gryffindor!

Right?