Scala ad Caelum

by GRND

Ages ago, a wizard known as Herpo the Foul defied Death and doomed the world and those who were yet to be born. His ambition was put to an end, yet briefly, for the events of the past are bound to happen again as the ages come and go. It is in the present age, as Voldemort's reign of terror is deemed as over, that the Wizarding World would understand the story had yet to finish.

5. Chapter 4 - Hogwarts

Chapter 4 is out! The boy is finally at Hogwarts!

---

Chapter 4 - Hogwarts

The twins did it once again.

Just like in the previous years, the Weasley siblings had almost missed the train because of Fred and George, who had decided that this morning was the perfect time to pull a prank on Percy; the older brother had taken more than twenty minutes to find his missing book of Transfiguration.

Fortunately, Ron was able to hop into the train as a cloud of steam was blown out from the first cabin. Through the window he saw how his mother scolded the twins into oblivion. Well, that was on them—to imagine they would have the guts to pull a prank on such a delicate time!

The redhead could not suppress the loud yawn which came out of his mouth. He had spent the entire night with eyes wide open, nervous and excited in equal measure. Finally, he would get to see the famous castle with his own eyes, the one his brothers had told him countless wonders about.

However, there was more to blame for his sleepless night. There were many questions in his mind—how was the infamous Sorting Ceremony? How would the older Gryffindors welcome him? Was the first year as hard as Percy had told him?

With those doubts in his mind, Ron walked through the crowded corridors of the train. He could barely carry his trunk through that mass of students; some send him rude looks as he bumped into them, those taller and more imposing; there were a few girls, also older, who waited inside their cabins and looked at those who walked outside with mirth in their eyes; once, he saw another boy who looked to be of his age, but he got into a packed cabin without much trouble.

At last, Ron found an empty cabin.

The boy let himself down on the seats, tired and relieved—finding a cabin wasn't supposed to be such an arduous task! Well, that was a thing of the past now, and all that was left to do now was to wait and make one or two friends along the way. At least, those green seats were very comfortable.

Hogwarts; that thought alone was enough to make him smile like a loon. Ron used that moment of peace to pull his hand out. It was simple yet incredibly beautiful; there was nothing bad he could say about it. It was of a dark-brownish shade, but it faded towards the tip, where it became much lighter, almost white. From the handler and onwards, a thickening delimited by a coarse ring, a very beautiful pattern had been carved into the wood; it represented the feathers of a Thunderbird, and there were thousands of them.

Truly a masterpiece.

Time passed, and the boy spent it so busy admiring his wand that he didn't realise there was an older student looking at him with an amused smile from the cabin's door. However, that changed the moment he took a seat just in front of the redhead. "I do not think you should be here, boy," he just said.

Ron almost jumped out of his seat because of the surprise, yet managed to refrain himself just in time. The boy in front of him was tall and thin, with short, black hair combed backwards in a rather stylish way. And he wore silver and green, the colours of Slytherin, with the Prefect badge pinned on his chest. It all hit Ron like a bludger—there was a reason why the seats were green and why the corridors were so silent.

This was the Slytherin area!

"Don't worry, I'm not going to eat you for lunch," the Prefect snorted. "Though you were lucky I was the one to find you here. Most of my House wouldn't be so kind to a Weasley. The fact you have yet to be sorted is of no importance. We all know to which House you will fall into."

Ron just stared at him, surprised. "Wait, how do you...? Never mind. You must know one of my brothers, right? Probably, Percy is the one, since he has also been named Prefect this year, just like you."

"Yes, I know the good ol' Perce. Between you and me, I don't know why he's been sorted into Gryffindor. He would be a fine Slytherin."

"Don't say that!" Ron protested despite the cold glare the Prefect sent him. "Percy would not be a fine Slytherin! He isn't like... Well, he isn't like most of you are. Besides, he's as much of a Gryffindor as every other Weasley is."

The older boy just raised his brow and looked at his nails with a very evident lack of interest. "Of course, I should have expected it. You'll fit nicely in Gryffindor, a bunch of hot-headed and entitled bastards—your other brothers, those infamous twins, are the pinnacle of it. It's a shame, really. By the way, my name is Daniel Williams. Say, does it ring any bells?"

Ron thought about it for a few seconds, but nothing came to his mind—nothing but the fact he needed to get out of there as quickly as possible, of course. "No, it doesn't. Should it?"

"No, and that's the point I want to make," the Prefect continued, his eyes back on Ron. "I'm a nobody. My name does not carry any importance nor power. You know why? Well, because I'm a bloody muggle-born, that's why. And yes, as you can see right here, I've been named Prefect. I am the Prefect of a House which supposedly hates my kin. It's hard to believe, eh?"

Those words left Ron speechless—it just didn't make any sense! "I thought Slytherin was rather…, selective with its members."

"That is as much of a stupid prejudice as it is a truth," Daniel Williams smirked. "Indeed, Slytherin is very selective, for it only accepts those with enough ambition to become the best version of themselves; those so cunning that would turn their worst enemy into a friend in case of need; those who would protect their own kin against firestorms and hordes of monsters; those with enough wits to earn the admiration of the people around them. And that, Weasley, was me before the Sorting Ceremony."

Ron was quick to argue back, but the Prefect beat him to it. "Of course, this isn't a world full of rainbows and flowers. Like you and many more, I was warned against Slytherin's reputation, of how racist and bigot they could be. They nailed it."

Williams took a moment, as if remembering past times. "At first, it was hell itself. I had to sweat and cry for every step I took, but I endured it all. But it wasn't the snakes and them alone who made my life a living hell. No, the students from other Houses also gave me a silent treatment—some, like the lions, because I wore the silver and green, but others, like those ravens and badgers, because they thought talking to me would turn them into weirdos. And despite that, due to my effort and perseverance, they finally let me in peace. I became respected. There are many bigots within the walls of my House, but even most of those cunts respect merits and effort."

Ron realised that his words were very similar to those Gerard had used a month ago to tell him how much he disliked the Houses and the many prejudices which came with them.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I hate it when others look at us as if we were the worst shit to ever walk this planet," the Prefect replied. "This is not a matter of black and white. I'm not the kindest soul and my housemates aren't devils; there's much more to it. One opportunity, that's all I ask for; a fair chance. If this speech is what I need to make one new student not hate us from the very beginning, then I'd gladly do it."

The hell was that? Williams's rambling had left Ron totally speechless once again. Moreover, he had no idea what to think of it.

Daniel Williams just sighed and took a more relaxed posture into the seat, fingers ruffling his hair and messing up his stylish look. "Sorry about that. I can get rather passionate about things I don't consider fair. Besides, your brother Percy told me wonders about you a few years ago. I consider him a friend of mine, you know? Anyhow, the thing is I wanted to get to know you a bit, and to measure you, of course. I hope my words helped to open your mind just a little."

Ron was left surprised with that last piece of information. "Can you tell me what Percy said of me? Please?"

"Well, mainly, that you were quite eager to start your magical education," he replied. "From what I grasped, I thought of you to be a younger version of him, yet I now see how wrong I was. Don't take it to heart, it ain't something bad per se. Percy is way more intelligent and open-minded, but you have way more spirit than him. To be honest, I started this chat because I wanted to find out if this would be the year in which a Weasley would become a Slytherin for the first time. It seems that will be a matter for another year."

By Merlin's beard, this boy sure likes to talk! Even so, there was a part of his speech which had really confused Ron; way more than his stupid idea of him being a snake. "When you said Percy would fit nicely in Slytherin, what did you mean by that?"

Just at that moment, the train got into a tunnel, and torches above them were set ablaze to fight the darkness away.

"Well, it's quite easy to understand," the Prefect smiled. "Honestly, you can't deny the fact Percy is very ambitious; one of the most ambitious individuals out here, I'd say. Also, although he doesn't have many friends, he's very loyal to those few. Now, is he intelligent? I don't think I need to elaborate on that matter. On top of all, he does have a silver tongue for all the Professors and adults of importance around him. Definitely, I'd say he gathers most of the traits Slytherin values."

Ron gave it a thought, and for much he tried, he couldn't argue back.

As the train exited the tunnel and the sun shone over them once again, a question was born in Ron's mind—if so, why was Percy sorted into Gryffindor? The Sorting Ceremony was supposed to place the students in the House they would fit in the most, right? Could there be more to it?

He was about to voice out those doubts, but Williams had another idea. "This conversation was a rather fascinating one, Ronald Weasley, but it must end now," he smirked. "My friends must be about to finalise their bloody pureblood socialising, and I don't think they will find it very amusing to have you here. Besides, you should find some other newbies like you. It is important to have people you can trust your back with as soon as possible."

It was not a suggestion, and that was left pretty clear when he kicked Ron out of the cabin.

"What a cunt," Ron cursed in a faint voice. However, he walked away in search of other first-years. That advice seemed like a good one to follow.

Now that the train was on its way to Hogwarts and everyone had found a cabin, the corridors were a whole new picture. Ron scanned all the cabins through the glasses of the doors, but most of them were occupied by older students, and in those few cabins the people of his age had taken were filled to the brim.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ron found his cabin. There was only one boy of his age inside, who looked so skinny and short that no one would have believed he was old enough to attend Hogwarts. He wore some round glasses, which along with that long fringe of his, that fell all over his forehead, made his face look a tad smaller.

Ron decided to try it politely. "Hey, is there anyone sitting here? Every other cabin seems to be full."

The boy didn't even answer his question. He just replied with a nod of his head and turned his head around, to the window, as soon as possible. Ron followed his eyes, and realised the train now travelled over a large bridge, a hundred metres over an immense lake.

"Quite a sight, eh?" Ron asked as he let himself down onto the seat. He liked it better than the one in the Slytherin area; it was just as comfy and it wasn't green.

"Yeah," the boy replied, his eyes still set on the lake. "I've never seen something like this."

Instead, Ron stared at the boy with the corner of his eyes. Wait, isn't he the boy who talked to Ginny back at the station? The one who didn't know how to enter the platform? His discret staring came to an end when the twins stormed into their cabin.

"Hey there, Ronnie," Fred said. "Finally we found you! We feared you had ended up in the Slytherin area. That's something you would totally do. However, I see that once again your wits leave us astonished—to think you would find your way into a cabin all by yourself! Anyhow, we're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan says he's brought a tarantula and we want to see it. Don't get yourself in trouble without letting us know first!"

Suddenly, George's head appeared over Fred's shoulder. "What's up, Harry!? We didn't get to introduce ourselves, did we? Well, I'm George and this is Fred. Or perhaps I'm Fred and this is George. You'll maybe find out some day! See you later, then!"

And just like that, they disappeared.

Wait a moment, Ron thought as his eyes opened in awe, is this Harry, the Harry bloody Potter? There was only one way to know that, so he just did the most evident thing in the world and blurted, "Are you really Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded his head once again, yet this time he pulled the fringe out of his forehead. There it was, the most famous scar in the world; just as the tales told, it had the shape of a lighting bolt.

At first, Ron was so nervous that he asked Harry about the infamous Dark Lord, yet regretted the decision rather quickly. Stupid of him, hadn't thought about the fact Harry's family died that night. From that point and onwards the conversation deviated to more mundane matters, and it went great.

Ron had always been very curious about muggles and the way they managed without magic, and Harry answered all his questions with ease—those relatives of his really sounded like the worst people ever. In exchange, Harry hit him with a barrage of questions about magic which just didn't seem to end. But also, he asked Ron about his family and brothers.

It all went great until, of course, Ron talked a bit too much.

There was nothing in this world that embarrassed Ron and his siblings more than talking about the money—more like the lack of it—the Weasleys had.

"I guess I can relate to you," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't know I had any of it until Hagrid found me and showed me the heritage my parents left me in Gringotts. Believe it or not, I'd have changed every damn coin just to have known that I was a wizard a few years earlier."

That was what puzzled Ron the most, by a large margin. How on earth could someone live eleven years without knowing he was a wizard? Utterly mind-blowing, if someone were to ask him.

Around ten minutes later, a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and asked, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harry was quick to leap to his feet and bought a bit of everything. However, Ron remained glued to his seat, his mouth shut tight. Well, at least I still have my sandwich, he thought with a grimace. I hope it's not corned beef once again…

It was corned beef.

As soon as the trolley lady resumed her stroll, Harry offered him the best trade in history. "Swap you for one of these," he said, showing him a bunch of delicious sweets.

If possible, Ron's ears turned pinker. "You don't want this, trust me," the redhead replied. "It's all dry. She hasn't got much time—you know, with five of us."

"Go on," Harry insisted, almost pushing the sweets into his hands. "Have a pastry. I got here more than enough to knock us out five times."

I mean, who am I to refuse if he insists so much? Besides, it would be rather ill-mannered to refuse his offer. After all, there was nothing better to make friends than sharing some sweets. Ron finally gave up and accepted, and he found himself smiling in no time at all.

Making friends turned out to be way easier than he first thought.

---

Harry had been more than eager to find out if the Great Hall was as incredible as people said. He had incredible expectations, but what he found blew them apart.

It was the perfect way to end his introduction to the Wizarding World. Today had been incredible since he first stepped into the train, and although there had also been bad moments, like the argument he and Ron had with Malfoy and his goons, overall, it had been the best day of his life.

Never ever had Harry imagined that such a fantastic place could be real—the boat ride to Hogwarts had been mind-blowing, but this was even better.

Countless candles lit the Great Hall, their faint flames shedding light over the colourful banners which hung from the walls of chiselled stone. There were four large tables full of students, who wore the colours of their respective Houses, and a smaller one at the far end of the Hall, where the Professors had taken seats. And when Harry looked upwards, his eyes opened in awe. The ceiling was a work of art in its own league. Of a dark blue shade with hundreds of shining stars on its surface, it resembled the clear night of that day.

The whispers started as Professor McGonagall strode towards the end of the Hall, and they pulled Harry out of his world. There, atop of a wooden stool, an old and ragged hat had been placed. He stared at it, confused. Surely, they won't expect me to pull a rabbit from it, right? That thought alone made him shiver. Unlike Ron, who had fixed his glasses with an incredible spell back at the train, Harry could only wave his wand around like a buffoon.

However, Harry would not have any more time to think about the Sorting Ceremony, because the hat suddenly started to sing.

Its song, or what he grasped of it, talked about the Houses and the traits they valued, but also, about the brotherhood all four should represent. The entire hall burst into a loud applause as soon as it ended.

By his side, Ron cursed, "So we've just got to try on the hat! I'm going to kill Fred—he was going on about fighting a troll!"

Harry allowed himself to smile and sigh in relief. A hat atop of his head was something he could manage.

Then, Professor McGonagall called the first student, a pink-faced girl with blond pigtails. Her name was Hannah Abbot, and she stumbled forward so the Professor could place the Hat on her head. It only needed a moment to shout, "Hufflepuff!"

Then came Susan Bones, a pretty red-haired girl who was also sorted into Hufflepuff, while Terry Boot, a short boy who held himself rather well, was sorted into Ravenclaw later on. Names and more names were called. Of course, Draco Malfoy got into Slytherin the moment the Hat grazed his head. However, Hermione Granger, the bossy girl he'd met in the train, was sent to Gryffindor after more than one minute of silence.

At last the whispers came to an end as the next name was called. "Potter Harry!"

---

Harry stepped forward as the whispers returned; long forgotten was the initial surprise, it seemed. Yet Ron just couldn't think about his friend at that moment. He'd never been this nervous, and he did not know why.

This was supposed to be very easy—he was a Weasley, thus he would get sorted into Gryffindor. Plain and simple. Even so, those words from Gerard and Daniel Williams came to his mind just then, and for much he tried to send them away, they just refused to do it. Even if he didn't want to admit it, his views on the different Houses had changed a bit; enough to make him doubt.

The way that snooty Prefect had described Percy had shocked Ron to the core. All the things he'd said about his brother were true, and much to his horror, they fit within the traits Slytherin valued dearly. Yet they didn't turn Percy into a bad person. Sure, he had his flaws, like everyone else, but that was it.

In the past few years, Ron had come to respect Percy the most out of all his brothers because of the patience he'd shown with him, teaching him about the ways of effort and what it allowed one to accomplish. It had taken him an entire day to understand how the most simple of the hexes worked, and Percy had been there to guide him. What's more, Ron had been able to impress Harry Potter himself because of one simple spell Percy taught him months ago.

Had he been sorted into Slytherin, would Ron have thought less of him? No, of course not. Percy was of his blood, and that was thicker than anything else.

Gerd's presence managed to pull the boy out of his thoughts. "So this is how they do it, eh?" the Essentia asked as she took a seat atop of his shoulder. "What a shame. I really wanted to see you fighting a troll." She'd left him to explore the castle as soon as its walls had welcomed them, yet she'd returned for the most important moment of his life.

"Shut up," Ron groaned in a barely audible whisper. He didn't want others to think of him as a nuthead on his first day. "Can't you see that I'm in the middle of an existential crisis?" He had no idea what it meant, but he once heard Percy using that expression while being very stressed.

"Why?" she asked back. "It all looks quite simple to me. You just go there, take a seat and put that weird hat over your head."

"It ain't about that," Ron replied. A boy of black skin sent him a weird look, so he lowered his voice even more. "Since forever, I've always wanted to be a Gryffindor. But now… I just don't know what I want. How can I keep disliking Slytherin so much when my brother could have been sorted there?"

"That's also quite simple, silly boy," Gerd smiled. "Since we met, you've always talked to me about how you wanted to be different from your brothers, to find your own way. Well, here you have it, the chance you've waited so eagerly. Do the unthinkable, Ron. Do it and start your own path right now."

The Hat, still atop of Harry's head, shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The table on the far end, on the left side of the Hall, exploded in cheers and shouts. Ron swore he heard Fred and George above them all.

"It ain't that easy," Ron mused. "I've never considered the chance of being sorted into another House. I don't want to be a Hufflepuff; the twins would never let me hear the end of their jokes about it. Ravenclaw is off the charts too—I might have taken a liking to studying and learning magic, but I certainly don't want to spend my life with my nose buried into a book."

"Well, if so, there is only one option left," Gerd reasoned as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Frankly, I don't see the problem. From what little I've heard about Slytherin, it would be my first choice with no hint of doubt. Ambition, cunning and fraternity; those are really good traits, you know? Now, if you are worried about its fame, that's nonsense. Every man or woman can surrender to the darkness which resides within our hearts. It is our decision that shapes us, not some stupid reputation."

Ron turned his head to look at her, yet she refused to meet his eyes. What on earth was that? She did that every once in a while—Gerd would just drop something deep and refuse to elaborate about it. The first time it happened, it left Ron perplexed, yet he'd grown used to it. However, its frequency was starting to worry him.

Even so, he wouldn't have more time to dwell on it, because his name was called next.

Ron gulped down a knot in his throat as he took the first step. Gerd wished him good luck before flying upwards, towards that beautiful ceiling. Well, here we go, he thought. Come on, grow a pair and be done with it. With those words of self-encouragement, he walked towards the stool. His determination lasted until McGonagall placed the Hat atop of his head, then it died as the Hat spoke in his mind.

"What do we have here," it said. "Well, look at this. Another bloody Weasley! Every single year, I keep telling myself this will be the last in which I have to sort one of your kin. So far, I've been proven wrong a few times—it seems Molly and Arthur did not lose their time!"

"Woah, you can talk!" Ron mused. "Wait, can you even hear me? Or do I need to think rather than talking?"

"Don't try those little games with me, boy!" the Hat laughed. "We are going to talk about you no matter how much you try to avoid the matter. Hmm, yes, you are a very peculiar individual, Ronald. You are similar to Percival, yet there are many differences between the two of you. Is that ambition what I see? A tad less, perhaps, and certainly you don't share his love of books. How interesting!"

"Could you not talk as if I wasn't here?" Ron pleaded. "It's putting me on the edge."

"Oh, I love that temper of yours!" the Hat went on, unaware of his anxiousness. "You'd do great in Gryffindor, of that I'm sure. Even so, what are we gonna do with that ambition of yours, Ronald? You want—no, you desire—to be more than just another Weasley. You don't want to be shadowed by your brothers anymore. To accomplish that, Slytherin is your best option. And here comes the doubts—always the doubts!"

Ron gulped once again. "Well, yeah. I mean, Slytherin's reputation is known by everyone. I don't want to be alone, surrounded by dark wizards in the making."

"Everyone worries about that," the Hat sighed, its voice way less effusive now. "Fortunately, even if people have yet to accept it, such a reputation is a thing of the past. Those dark times are over, Ronald. Nowadays, most of the students sorted into Slytherin know nothing about those sombre days, although they still hold a firm belief in the Blood Supremacy, of course. How could it be otherwise, when it's all they've been taught since they have memory? However, I think a child should never be judged by their parents' sins; do you agree with me, Ronald Weasley?"

"Of course," Ron replied with no hint of doubt. "My parents educated us to be fair to everyone, no matter what their blood status is, no matter in which family they've been born into. Even so… I've heard many stories about the War, Hat—I've heard my mother cry because of the way her brothers were killed. Even if you are right, even if they've changed… I don't want to get sorted into that viper's pit. I-I just can't."

The Hat turned silent for a few seconds. "You can't because you really think all those children who just got sorted are fated to become dark wizards, or you can't because you fear what your family would think of you if you were to take this step?" It wasn't meant to feel like a punch in the guts, he could tell, but it definitely did.

"Maybe," the Hat went on, "had I asked you this a few months ago, you'd have chosen the first option without a doubt. However, I've looked into your mind, Ronald. You've met two wizards who made you think that, perhaps, people aren't fully defined by the House they belong to. That is a very valuable lesson, my boy."

"I don't know what to think anymore," Ron confessed with a trembling voice. "Williams said he was a muggle-born, yet he's managed to become a Prefect in a place where I thought his kin was hated and persecuted. What's more, all the things he said about Percy… Well, he hit the nail on every single one. Had he taken the choice to join Slytherin, would have I hated him? He's my brother, just as good of a person as any other Weasley is. And yet he fits in what has always been 'the house of the dark wizards'. I just don't know what to think anymore."

"Then I will ask you the same questions I once asked Percival when he sat on this stool," the Hat said. "Will you be able to judge fairly some pureblood children even if they don't do the same with you? Will you be able to step up and change the way things have been done for years? Will you be able to gather enough courage and go against all odds in order to make the best decision for you and your future? Will you be able to challenge all beliefs and disputes which have breached the union among Houses for centuries?"

Its voice seemed to die as the questions echoed all over Ron's mind, yet there was one more to come, louder and clearer. "Will you become change itself, Ronald Weasley?"

Ron was left speechless, and now that there was no voice in his head he heard the entire Hall whispering—for how long had he talked to the Hat? I need to make a decision, the redhead urged himself. Bloody hell and bloody Hat, this wasn't supposed to happen!

At that moment Ron felt a pull that urged him to look upwards, to the ceiling. There he found Gerd, who stared at him intensely. She had discarded her usual attire—that cute, sleeveless dress she always wore—in favour of a much more regal one.

Gerdnyaram wore some full-length dress which reached down to her feet and which its sleeves fully covered her arms. Around the hips, there was a cut which showed the leather-like trousers she wore underneath it. The Essentia looked bigger, way more real, different, so much that Ron had trouble believing this woman was her kind and lively friend. Her brown hair was longer, and her features more delicate. Still, even if her ethereal, blue gleam was much fainter, he knew it was her.

Gerd stared at him with cold, sharp eyes, and then she nodded her head. "Do it." Her voice filled his mind like the Hat's had previously done. No, it was louder, and it shut down every other source of noise. "Do it." Her words echoed again and again, and he found himself lost in them.

Ron then saw himself; older, stronger and with a happy smile on his face. This version of him had the Head-Boy badge sewed on the chest of his robes, and his posture showed self-confidence. Is this who I want to be? Here, he was popular, like the twins. He was clever, like Bill and Percy. He was the star of the Quidditch team, like Charlie. And he was his mother's favourite, like Ginny.

"You can be way more than this, Ronald Weasley," Gerd mused in his mind. "Don't allow your insecurities to stop you. Trust me, you can be better than your siblings. You can be better than me—you can do better than we did. Take the hardest step and begin your own path. I will be there by your side to watch over you."

Fueled by that, Ron took the step and began his own path. "Do it," he told the Hat. "Do it before I change my mind."

Ron swore he felt the Hat smiling. "The tougher decisions are those which shape us the most, Ronald. Today, you chose to walk the hardest path, and only those who do it are the ones who find the greatest rewards. I know you think low of those other children who got sorted into Slytherin, but soon you will understand they are not evil people. Alas, finally there is hope! Show us all the change is possible, Ronald Weasley. Show us all that things can be done better."

The Hat shouted, "Slytherin!" and the Great Hall became silent.

---

What have I done? Ron thought for the hundredth time as he finished his dinner.

The feast itself was a sight to behold; countless dishes of every nature filled the table, their scents so different and they yet mixed up incredibly well. But, much to his horror, he just wasn't hungry to take delight in it.

How could Ron enjoy the food when he was being glared at by everyone?

On one hand, there was cold hatred in Malfoy's eyes, shared by his two goons, two large boys by the name of Crabbe and Goyle who acted like his shadow. Next to them, two other boys just stared at Ron from time to time, their emotions much harder to decipher. There was a lanky, tall boy of black hair and blue eyes who just stared through his very soul with no ounce of qualm; if he had any opinion about Ron, his eyes didn't show them. Then came the black boy who had heard him talking to Gerd prior to the Sorting; his name was Blaise Zabini, and he looked curious.

On the other hand, the group of girls seemed to have a mix of opinions about the redhead.

There was a very pretty blonde with long hair and deep-blue eyes who had yet to look in his direction, as if he wasn't worthy of her time; she ate in silence, and each one of her movements were delicate, almost unnatural. By Malfoy's side, a pug-faced girl kept a constant sneer on her face and nodded to each of his words; it only took Ron a look to understand he had one more enemy within his new House. And lastly, to the blond's side, almost hiding behind her, was a girl of brown hair; her eyes looked kind, while her smile was warm, but Ron knew better than to fall for that cheap trap.

This was Slytherin, the pit of vipers, and he needed to watch every of his steps—blood traitors weren't welcomed here.

Even so, no matter the intensity of their glares, Ron barely paid any attention to all that happened around him. How could he, when all he cared about stood at the other end of the Great Hall. There, George and Fred had yet to avert their eyes from the Slytherin table; they seemed to be in shock, as silent as they've ever been. Ron had felt their eyes on his back as he'd walked towards his table, of course, yet he'd refused to look back at them. He was a snake, a coward.

And then, on top of it all, Gerd was nowhere to be seen.

She'd done something strange to him, Ron was sure of it! He'd seen an older version of himself, and he'd felt different emotions as she'd talked through his mind. Had Gerd not acted the way she did, Ron would have never made this damned choice. Even so, deep inside him, the redhead knew that was a blatant lie. Whatever it was that the Essentia had done to him, it had just encouraged him to make the decision. It had been his call to become a Slytherin—to do something no other Weasley had ever done. Here, they would not shadow him.

Gerd, Daniel, Gerard, that bloody Hat, he listed in his mind, damned be all of them! Because of them, he'd need to give account to his family.

However, that would be a matter for another time, because the Headmaster suddenly rose to his feet and hereby ended the feast. Bloody hell, Albus Dumbledore himself stood metres away from him and Ron didn't care! Not even his words about finding the most horrible death in one of the third floor's corridors had managed to wake Ron up from his stupor.

Slytherin as a whole stood up and waited for a Prefect to lead them. Much to Ron's horror, it was no other but the one he'd met on the train. "Okay, first-year brats, my name is Daniel Williams," he started, his voice loud enough to be heard above the Hall's uproar, "and I'm the fifth year Prefect—one of them, that's it. However, since I lost the damn raffle, it will be my pleasure to be your guide for today. Follow me, please, and refrain from asking too many questions."

The blond girl and the lanky boy took the lead and followed Williams, whereas Ron was quick to fall to the back of the group. Surely, they'd pay him less attention that way.

However, luck didn't seem to be on his side today. "Hello, Ronald!" the brunette girl who had smiled at him said as they exited the Great Hall. Now that he looked at her up close, Ron realised she had pretty green eyes and that her hair was a bit curly and it ended close to the shoulders. "My name is Tracey Davis. Nice to meet you!"

She was cute, plus didn't have that silly voice the other girls had. Even so, Ron ignored her. He didn't have the energy to argue at this moment. All he wanted to do was to sleep, so, obviously, Davis went on.

"Hey, didn't your parents teach you how to treat a lady?" Her amused smile died the moment Ron refused to even look in her direction. "I'm not trying to pick a fight here, you know? It's just that… Well, I don't really know many people either, and… I just thought we could talk to each other a bit. So we don't feel so lonely, right?"

Ron finally looked at her, surprised. The girl's eyes were now set on the floor, and that made him understand she really meant no ill. "Oh, sorry," Ron apologised, a bit ashamed. "I thought you were with the others. Given the way they talked about me, I don't think there is any need to elaborate on why I thought you were messing with me."

"Well, sorry about that," she grimaced. "I'm not really part of their group. I'm a half-blood, you see? They stand me when they feel like it, but that's as far as it goes."

"I get it," Ron said cheerfully. A half-blood was someone he could trust, even in Slytherin. Or so he hoped. "But you did say that you didn't know many people here, so there must be some of them you are familiar with, right? Tell me about them—better the devil you know than that you don't, don't you think so?"

His comment managed to draw the hint of a smile on her face. "Well, I'm pretty sure you already know all there is to know about Malfoy and his ilk. Now, the only person I can talk to you about is Daphne Greengrass, the blond girl."

"The same who seems to have a stick shoved up her butt?"

"Ehm, yes?" Tracey looked puzzled by his choice of words. "She's a bit, ehm, let's say difficult to treat with. But not the way you are thinking! She doesn't believe in the Blood Supremacy so much, not nearly as Malfoy, Parkinson and Nott do, at least."

"For real?" the redhead raised a brow. "She didn't give me such an impression. Everyone looked at me with disgust, but she went further and just refused to even send a glance in my direction. That I call commitment."

As he let those words sink in, their walk through the castle continued. He'd already been in awe with those large corridors filled with talking pictures and rusty armour on their way to the Great Hall, but Ron almost lost his mind the first time he hopped into a moving staircase. So the legends were true! It left them a few levers below, and then didn't go back to its initial spot. That's cool, although very impractical. The hell I'm supposed to do if I'm late to class and the staircase drops me in a different place?

"I mean, she does believe in the Blood Supremacy," Tracey went on, having trouble finding the right words. "Kind of. Look, it really isn't a matter of blood with her. Daphne just thinks of herself to be above every other person, no matter their social status. Her father, lord Thomas, is a very rich man, and she's always been very spoiled. But that doesn't make her an evil person, okay? Daphne never treats muggle-borns with disdain or hatred, she just shows indifference, but the same goes for those of her same blood status."

"And I'm supposed to believe that's something to be proud of?" Ron asked, his voice full of sarcasm. Honestly, how could these people be so different? It was as if they lived in another world.

"Not even close," Tracey sighed in defeat. "But at least she ain't evil like Malfoy and Parkinson; that's the point I wanna make. They really think that muggle-borns, half-bloods like me, or even blood-traitors like you, need to be taught a lesson for even looking in their direction. Daphne Greengrass might think she's better than you, but you won't hear any foul words from her mouth, nor will she treat you like scum. Her mother educated her better than that."

"You do seem to know a lot about her," Ron pointed out. He'd chosen to trust Tracey, but if she knew Greengrass so well, why hadn't she stuck to her side instead of coming to him? These people were really weird, indeed.

"I know her because my father it's a business partner of hers, and so, I've been in her manor a few times. That doesn't mean we are friends, right? At least, she doesn't think so."

This was the moment when Ron realised he could fully trust Tracey Davis, for she was just as lost and alone as him in the pit of vipers. She stopped talking, and he didn't ask any more questions. However, the silence that enveloped them felt good, not tense like the one prior to their conversation.

Ron looked through the corridor's large window, and realised they were at ground level. Oh, right. Fred told me the Slytherin common room was located near the dungeons. That had been hard to believe at first, but it seemed that today was the day in which Ronald Weasley would be proven wrong again and again.

Williams suddenly raised a hand in the air, and they all came to a halt. "Listen to me, folks," he said loudly. "This right here is the worst and most feisty staircase in the entire castle. Never trust this one, I'm telling you—unless you wanna get dropped a few levels above the one you're going to, of course. In any case, this bastard usually behaves on the first day, and so, we'll be taking the short route to the dungeons. I'd show you around the castle, but I've been given orders by the Head-Boy himself to drop you in the common room as fast as possible. So just follow me and keep your mouths shut as you've done till now, okay?"

They did as told and went down the long staircase. It only took Ron a second to realise this corridor was different from the rest. To begin with, the temperature was colder here, and the illumination was fainter, even though there seemed to be the same amount of torches. The stone used was of a darker shade, but chiselled still. Also, there was much less noise here; there were many pictures hanging from the walls, but their characters chose to follow the students with their eyes alone.

After some minutes of walking, they finally reached the common room. Its entrance was marked by a large, polished door of dark wood. Carved on it there were two long snakes, each facing the other.

"Well, here we are," Williams said, his finger tapping the wooden surface, "just about to enter your new home. First and foremost, as you must know by now, there is a password, and without it you won't be able to come inside. The first of the year is 'Lineage', but it will soon change. We'll inform you as soon as that happens. Ah, and poor of whoever shows little discretion, if you know what I mean."

That being said, the two planks of wood were sucked into the stone wall, and the greenish illumination of the common room welcomed them. Bloody hell, Ron grimaced, it's true we are gonna live right under the Lake! All his life he'd believed for that to be one of George's jokes. Yet here he was.

The common room was a long stance filled with many kinds of furniture. Countless couches of black leather circled some round, wooden tables; there were about six fireplaces around, and although their fire helped to warm the place, most of the lighting work was done by hundreds of lamps and torches, which emitted a greenish gleam. The floor was covered by a gigantic carpet of various colours; the background was brownish, green was for the many snakes it pictured, and golden rings embellished it.

Certainly, it screamed Slytherin all over it.

"Welcome home, newbies," the Prefect smirked. "Enjoy the sight as we wait for him to come."

"Who's he?" Daphne Greengrass asked, her voice loud and high-pitched. Ron thought it suited her very well.

"I have a better question," Malfoy started. "Why is this blood-traitor still here and why are we doing nothing about it?"

All traces of humour disappeared from Williams's face. "Listen to me, brat. The Hat itself sorted him into our noble House. Say, are you, by any chance, telling us that you know better than the Sorting Hat, which is all that remains from the Founders? If so, I have very bad news for you, Draco Malfoy—delusional people do not do well in Slytherin."

Clearly, Malfoy didn't expect to be treated in such a way, for his face turned all red. "Of course you'd defend him," he went on. "I know who you are. You may have tricked most of the people here, but whatever nonsense you've maken them believe won't work with me. No, I won't allow it—Slytherin won't be tarnished by the likes of you two."

Williams was about to answer, Ron could tell, but he'd already had enough of Malfoy for a hundred lives. There was no way in hell he'd allow others to fight his battles, much less when his principles were on the line.

"Shut up, you damn git!" the redhead cursed. "I'm not here to tarnish nothing. I had a long talk with the Hat, and it convinced me to get sorted here. It said that I had all the traits Slytherin himself valued. Bloody hell, you saw for how long I sat on that stool! I could have chosen Gryffindor, but I came here instead. I wanted to make a name for myself, and that's what I'm gonna do, like it or not."

"He's lying!" Malfoy continued, clearly bewildered due to his story.

"Silence!" a new voice ordered from behind. They all turned around, alarmed, to find no other but Severus Snape himself. The young Professor wore a fearsome scowl on his face as he walked towards them, hands held behind his back. Every student took a step away from him, which only made his scowl worse.

"In all my years here, this is the first in which I have a bunch of idiots fighting within the house on the first night," Snape hissed. "I will not tolerate it, is that clear? We, Slytherins, must stand by one another, because I assure you that the other Houses will not judge you fairly. I also expect nothing but excellence from all of you—Slytherin does not value incompetence, and I will see to it."

He paused for a moment, and his eyes fell over Ron and Malfoy. "As I just told you, I don't want a single fight within these walls. Since I do not trust you two, special measures will be taken this year. Draco, you will share a room with Vincent and Gregory. Ronald, you will share it with Blaise and Theodore. I truly hope this is enough, otherwise, you will beg me to send you back home."

Once again Malfoy was ready to complain, but a single look from Snape was enough to drain all the colour from his reddened face. Ha! Look at him now! You aren't so brave anymore, eh, rat?

The Professor set his dark eyes on Williams, who had watched the entire spectacle with a huge smile on his face. "Daniel, you seem to be taking far too much delight here. Do me a favour and show them where the dormitories are."

"Sorry, Professor. I couldn't help myself. Come on, newbies, you've heard him!"

Williams led them further into the common room, and Ron felt Malfoy's eyes glaring daggers into his back in each step. Snape may have prevented a fight tonight, but this won't end here. There was a huge corridor by the end of the common room, and there awaited another Prefect, a tall girl of long, dark hair and cold, brown eyes. She took the girls with her, into the left hallway, while Williams led the boy into the right.

There, the floor was covered by the same carpet, and so, what caught Ron's eyes were the many doors on both sides of the corridor. They walked past the first few, yet didn't get so deep into the hall.

"Well, here we are," the Prefect said, his arms opened in a dramatic gesture. "The older you get, the deeper your bedroom is, which means that yours are at the very start; try not to complain too much about the noise from the common room. The one on the right side is for lord Malfoy and his followers, the one on the left is for Ronald and you two. Now comes a piece of advice if you mind: rest as much as possible. First days can be a bit overwhelming, so do yourselves a favour and listen to my words."

After that, Williams just left in search of his own bedroom and the tension became even more notable, like a heavy embrace. He's a good bloke. Never thought I'd say this of a Slytherin, but here we are; into their very pit. That remark brought him back to reality. Not wasting a second, Ron stormed into his room before Malfoy could start a new argument.

His vault was already there, in the middle of the room, smaller and older when compared to those two on its sides, but that wasn't what took the breath away from him. This room was larger than the biggest level of The Burrow! Bloody hell, one bedpost and the space around it was far larger than his entire bedroom!

It had a rectangular shape, and there were three beds on it, close to the walls; all covered in green and silver cloth, of course. Despite that, he couldn't deny how comfy and warm they looked. Ron heard the door at his back moving, so he grabbed his vault and walked towards the furthest bed; it had a little, circular window which granted him views to the Lake.

"I see that you have already taken the best bed for yourself," the dark-skinned boy said as he stepped into the room. "Eh, don't look at me like that. I'm not trying to pick up a fight. Yours and Malfoy's problems aren't of my concern." Ron remained watchful, and that made him sigh. "My name is Blaise Zabini," he continued, a bit annoyed. "And you shouldn't be so rude towards others. In the end, it is you who is alone here, you know? All I'm trying to do is show you some kindness. If you want none of it, then…"

"I'm sorry," Ron apologised. "You are right—I was being a git. Lots of things have happened today, and I'm just overwhelmed. I shouldn't have taken it on you, Blaise."

Then another boy came into the room, the lanky one who had stared at him for minutes at the start of the feast. "Among all the things I could have expected for today," he smirked, "sharing a room with a Weasley wasn't one of them. That makes you interesting, Ronald, and I like interesting things."

"Come on, Theodore," Zabini rolled his eyes, "don't be like that with him. I would love to have some calm and peace within these walls."

"Shut up, Blaise," Nott replied. "Though you are right. Well, now that we are in a far calmer place, you can tell us the truth, Ronald—how the hell did you end up here?"

"I've already said it," Ron answered, tired of everyone and everything. "The Hat thought it was the best House for me. Not gonna lie, I wasn't sure at the start, but that bloody bastard convinced me that Slytherin was the best place to make my ambition come true."

Zabini raised a brow at that. "So it was true, then? I thought Weasley and ambition weren't words which belong in the same sentence. Hey, let me finish before you start glaring daggers at me! As I was about to say, ambition is a great trait, and we, purebloods, value it dearly. The name of your family might not have a good reputation, but if such was the reason why you got sorted here, then I'm fine with it. Who knows, I may make an ally out of you if you do well enough."

"Talk for yourself, Blaise," the other boy huffed. "I'm not as self-centred as Draco is, but I do not trust him. I've never had a soft spot for blood-traitors."

They talked as if he wasn't in the room, and that angered him—how could they be so presumptuous? Still, he remembered Zabini's words just in time. I'm alone here. For once in my life, I should close my mouth and see how things go. Yes, had Percy and Gerd been in his place, they would have done that.

"Look, I don't really care if you don't trust me," the redhead said, instead. "And I certainly don't understand all that nonsense about being my ally. All I want right now is to sleep and rest for tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to the classes, and I want to be on point for them. So goodnight it is."

This being said, he just closed the curtains around his bed; surprisingly, the noise of their voices seemed to become fainter.

Ron was as tired as he'd ever been, and also scared because he'd somehow ended up in a very unfamiliar place. Yet it all paled when compared to the excitement he felt. This was Hogwarts, and tomorrow would start his magical journey.

---

The day Gerdnyaram had dreaded for so long was finally here.

After more than two thousand years of slumber, she was finally awake. In these past months she had seen things—memories from the past, events of the present and horrors which had yet to happen.

The blessing that killed her ages ago.

Why was it happening again? To that question not even Gerdnyaram had any answer. Perhaps her old powers had returned once her slumber came to an end, when she met and Linked the boy in that strange world. Or maybe it was because of that other reason, the one she feared so much.

Gerdnyaram had seen it all—unfathomable chaos and death that He would unleash upon the world. As of today He was nothing but a shadow driven by fear alone, a being not worthy to belong to the realm of the living. Yet His return was an event once fated to occur. He had discovered the secret and performed the atrocious sins His predecessor did before Him.

Such an abomination should have never been discovered…

From what she had heard and observed, people in this age believed for His heir, a wizard known as Lord Voldemort, to be long gone. More so, that He had been killed by a mere baby.

Oh, how wrong they were…

Visions came at her like a blur—visions she saw ages ago yet which its meaning had only made sense now.

Kadir now walked the path of the shadow, and that alone tore apart Gerdnyaram's heart. Kadir had been the first to confront Herpo after he ended Gerd's life, just as he had been the first to perish after her. More names came—Kadir, Kassandra, Niklos; were there more of them? Her memories from the Ancient Times were few and diffuse. However, even though she could not put any face to those names, Gerdnyaram could feel Kadir and Niklos out there, scattered around the globe.

She had spent so much time nurturing her Link with the boy, time those two had used to fulfil their destinies. It scared her so much.

Kadir had somehow blinded her, and it was only thanks to the visions she inherited ages ago that Gerdnyaram understood he had betrayed her. Because of that, she needed to prepare Ronald. The future was uncertain and dark, but the boy could become hope itself for them all. It would scar him for life, of course, yet it was necessary; the lesser evil, some would have said.

It had never been her intention, but Gerdnyaram had come to care about Ronald Weasley. It did not matter that her real self had not been the one to form the Link. The emotions were there, and she would be a fool to deny their existence.

No, she would not repeat the mistakes she once committed. Those mistakes which sent entire civilizations to oblivion, which almost sentenced mankind. Ronald would be prepared for all that was to come.

The Essentia flew through the forest, to a deeper area in which no creature would ever disturb her as she gathered as much energy as she could. Gerdnyaram was the weakest among all her comrades, yet also the most special one. It was her who Herpo had feared the most—it was her who could stop Lord Voldemort. She knew about their secret and their legacy.

We named ourselves the Order of Precursors, Gerdnyaram remembered as she closed her eyes. Why was the Order founded? Who were we? There were many blank holes in her memories, important ones. Perhaps they would return to her in the forthcoming days. If not, she would make it work nonetheless.

It was time for the true Gerdnyaram to return—the world needed back the witch who once bore the Great Sight.

---

Ron was suddenly pulled out of his dreams by a light shaking.

Let me sleep for a few more minutes, mum, he begged, I promise I will deal with those gnomes later. But as he tried to go back to his slumber, the shaking became more aggressive. Oh, come on! Yet when he opened his eyes, Ron didn't find those orange walls he liked so much. No, what he found was some faultless curtains of green and silver silk.

The shaking didn't stop. "Eh! Why is my bloody bed shaking so much!?"

"That's the Alarm Charm, Weasley," a voice said from outside. If Ron recalled correctly, it belonged to Blaise Zabini. "It's set on every bed. You heard Snape yesterday—Slytherin values punctuality."

Oh, of course, another trait Slytherin values dearly! Now that Ron was wide awake, the events of yesterday came to his mind. He'd lost his mind, right? With trouble, he managed to sit up. It had been a rough night with little sleep, but classes started today, and they didn't wait for anyone. Ron did a bit of stretching before opening his curtains.

There he found Blaise Zabini, already dressed and washed. Of course, his uniform was brand new and of the best silk. "You should wake up sooner," he said. "The charm had been up for more than five minutes. Theodore is outside already, but I thought it would be a bit discourteous to leave you in the dust so early into the year."

"Oh, thank you," Ron said as he scratched the back of his neck. "It was a rough night."

Zabini raised a brow yet said nothing, and so Ron began to get dressed. His stomach growled, and the redhead remembered he'd barely eaten anything in the feast. I hope there is bacon for breakfast. He looked at the mirror and liked what he saw—his robes were old and patched, but they suited him just fine. Still, the green and silver tie which he left untidied looked so out of place.

"Theodore must be in the common room," Blaise said as they stepped outside. They found very few students in the hallway, yet all of them smirked down at them. They were the newbies there, after all. "A piece of advice about him, if you don't mind. He's a bit…, unpredictable, let's say. His mood changes out of nowhere and for no apparent reason, so it would be wise to not have any problems with him."

Ron sent him a puzzled look, but he saw no trace of mockery in Blaise's face. That's weird, but I'll follow his advice. I think he really wishes me no ill. They found Nott in the common room, standing next to the entrance. However, Malfoy and Parkinson were also there, seated on some couches nearby.

Malfoy burst into laughter as soon as his eyes fell on them. "What kind of robes are those, Weasley? Did your father lend you the uniform your ancestors used when Hogwarts was built? I've seen beggars with better clothes than yours." Those comments made Parkinson also burst into laughter, while Nott just gave the hint of an amused smile.

Ron felt so furious that his ears turned red. He took one step towards Malfoy, but Blaise grabbed him by the arm. "Don't fall into his games," he mused. "All he wants is for you to do something stupid. Are you really going to hand him the win on a silver plate?"

"That's easy to say when you aren't the one getting insulted," Ron bit back, yet he took no further step. Much to his surprise, he found himself walking towards the exit, his eyes looking everywhere but at Malfoy. If he glanced in his direction, his self-control would come to an end, that he was sure of.

"Thank you," Ron said once they were outside. "You are a good lad, Blaise Zabini."

"I'm not," he huffed in response. "I just don't like Malfoy either, and that turns you into a potential ally."

Ron ignored that last remark as they followed some older students; they'd led them to the Great Hall through a fast route. By the time they made it, many students were already there. The tables of Slytherin and Ravenclaw were almost packed to the brim, while those of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were way less crowded.

Ron spotted Tracey at the end of the table. Daphne Greengrass was also there, though they seemed to eat in silence. "Good morning," the redhead greeted as he took a seat by Tracey's side. "Did you have a good night?"

"Not really," Tracey answered with a smile. "I was so nervous about the classes that it took me hours to fall asleep. What about you?"

"Same here," Ron said as he eyed the many dishes in front of him. Bacon, eggs and sausages? By Merlin's beard, this palace is incredible! So he just dived into that paradise in the form of food, pouring himself a bit of each plate.

Even so, his feast would be stopped by an acute voice. "How can you stuff so much food into your mouth in so little time?" Greengrass asked, glancing at him with quite the horrified look. "You look like a savage. It is important to have proper etiquette when eating in a public place."

Ron then chewed as loud as he could, which increased the grimace on her face. "I'm famished," he finally said. "I barely took a bite yesterday."

"It doesn't change the fact that it's disgusting. You could start by using the fork and the knife a bit more; they aren't part of the table's decoration, you know?"

Ron was about to reply with his mouth full of food, yet he stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted the twins when they made their way towards the Gryffindor table. George saw him, and mouthed something that Ron understood as 'we'll talk later'.

Just at that moment came Nott and the other first-years, and so his feast was ruined for good. Here I am, surrounded by snakes… The redhead just sat there in silence, still eating but in a way less enthusiastic way. The twins wanted to talk with him, and they looked dead serious about it. That was very bad. They never took anything seriously.

A few minutes later Snape dropped by their table, schedules piled on his hands. Ron got his and eyed it. Today they had History of Magic in the first period, which they shared with Ravenclaw, and then a double period of Transfiguration they shared with Gryffindor. Well, it could have been worse.

As soon as they finished their breakfast, the students left the Great Hall. When Blaise and Nott stood up, Ron did the same, and just like that the three of them walked back to their dormitory to gather all the things they'd need for the day. The walk was made in silence, of course, but it didn't seem to bother any of them.

Now, the walk to the classroom was a different thing altogether. They got lost and ran in circles until a kind girl, a Prefect from Hufflepuff, showed them the way. The castle was enormous, and those bloody moving staircases seemed to enjoy their anguish, for they dropped them in the wrong corridors multiple times.

To no one's surprise, History of Magic turned out to be a complete waste of time. At first it was funny, mostly because Professor Binn was a ghost, even so, it soon became a battle against boredom and drowsiness.

Despite that, all odds against him, Ron managed to answer some of the Professor's questions. It made him earn the first House points of the year, and most importantly, the surprised looks of his year-mates. Blessed be Gerd and Percy for making me read all those notes!

In the end he did learn something in that class—it felt very good to be the centre of attention for once.

After those dreadful hours of class, they were finally set free and on their way to the common room; they had some free time before lunch and nothing better to do. On the way down, Ron found himself surrounded by Blaise and Nott, each one taking their spots to his sides.

"That was pretty impressive," Blaise started. "You managed to earn twenty points in the very first period. More so, at one of Binn's classes, who is famous for not giving many points."

"I just answered some easy questions about the Goblin Revolution," Ron said with a shrug. "The most challenging part of the class was to remain awake to answer them."

"You didn't lie about your ambition, did you?" Nott cut in with a smirk. "You are a box full of surprises, eh, Weasley? I might have to reconsider my opinion about you. You are crazy enough to pay attention to that ghost's lecture, and that alone makes you an interesting individual. Who knows, you may end up being a very valuable ally. "

On that he totally agreed.

Had it not been thanks to Binn's compliments, he would have fallen asleep within the first hour. However, it was that second part of his speech that really struck him. Ally, he says. The very same guy who laughed at Malfoy's joke about my old robes a few hours ago. Bloody snake. These boys were opportunists, that was pretty clear by now. Would I ever be able to call someone a friend here?

He'd left the class very happy, and it had only taken a few minutes with these snakes to ruin his mood. "You know what?" the redhead started. "I think I'll go to the Great Hall. I'm quite thirsty after that lecture." This being said, he just left in a hurry before any of them could say a thing.

He'd rather be alone than in company of those two.

There was barely a soul in the Great Hall since it was too early, so Ron ended up having his lunch alone at the Slytherin table. He had some free hours before Transfiguration, and so, he decided to use them in exploring the castle.

Hogwarts was just… All in truth, Ron couldn't describe it with any word he knew. In just a few hours of exploring, he'd lost count of how many corridors he'd walked through, of how many staircases he'd used. To a point in which he almost didn't make it on time for his next class.

Ron got into the classroom when everyone else was already seated and silent. Fortunately, McGonagall didn't call him out as he took a seat by Tracey's side.

"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic there is to learn," the stern Professor explained. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You've all been warned."

Ron gulped down as the Professor's eyes fell all over him. He'd been told plenty about her strict yet fair nature, just as he knew what they would do in their first lecture. This was the infamous class in which they'd turn a match into a needle; the one class Percy had so many problems with.

And it only took the redhead a few tries to fully realise it.

Just a few minutes left for the lecture to end, only the bossy girl he'd met at the train—her name was Hermione Granger—Ron himself and, surprisingly, Daphne Greengrass had made a bit of progress.

Come on, you dunderhead! You've been preparing for this moment for more than two years! Yet nothing changed. Ron just couldn't understand what on earth he was missing. His wand movement was good enough, and he'd read the theory about a dozen times by now.

He was about to give up when a voice rumbled inside him. "Use your emotions, Ronald. They fuel magic. Think how you would feel, how others would see you." Ron was left stunned at that—was that Gerd's voice?

Gerd? Are you out there? No response came. Even so, still freaked out, he decided to follow her advice, no matter how weird it was. How would I feel? Well, that was a rather easy one. All he needed was to think about the previous lecture, in which he'd earned all those House points. Everyone had looked at him impressed, and he'd become the centre of attention for the first time in his life.

It had been awesome.

Ron put all those emotions into the wand motion, into the match that would turn a needle. He'd closed his eyes, but he knew this try had been way different to those others before it.

"You've done it!" Tracey gasped by his side. "You've done it, Ron!" Soon enough, her words caught everyone's attention, and all their eyes fell over him.

Even McGonagall came to their table with an impressed look on her face. There she examined the needle for a few seconds, rolling it between her fingers. "This is very good craft, Ronald," she finally said, raising her eyes from the needle. "There have been very few students who were able to perform this transfiguration in the very first class. I believe this is worth fifteen points for Slytherin."

Ron's face was almost split in a half by a wide smile.

Even so, it was pretty evident not everyone shared his happiness. Granger, who had been competing against him during every second of the lecture, now looked at him in a way that made Ron a bit uneasy. Then came his mates from Slytherin, whose eyes sparkled with interest. Still, none of that mattered as Ron finally caught Harry's eyes. He just smiled at Ron as he gave him thumbs up.

Thank Merlin! He doesn't hate me because of my sorting! A huge weight was taken from his shoulders. Ron had been really afraid that his one and only friend could hate him. I should talk to him later on this week. We could just hang out after classes or something like that.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a certain question. "How did you do it?" Tracey asked. "I can't even change the match's colour!"

"Try to picture the change in your mind," Ron explained. "It's very important to focus really hard on that. Also, try to do the wand movement a tad slower; that way it will be cleaner."

Tracey closed her eyes as she mused some words. Her wand moved much slower this time, no trace of nervousness on the motion. Yet again, nothing changed. "This isn't working," she groaned. "I did as you told me, but I just can't get it to work. Maybe… I'm not good enough."

Those last words, barely a whisper, really got to Ron. He understood her very well. Come on, you bloody idiot, share what you know with her. She's the only one who has shown you some kindness here. A part of Ron wanted to end the lecture with him as the only student to make it, however, this wasn't the way he'd been raised.

"Wait," Ron started, "there's more to it than that. As you do what I've just said… Well, I don't really know how to explain it, but just try to put some emotions into the spell. You want the match to change because you'd feel good about it, because you'd succeed at something really hard thanks to your effort. Try again as you think on that, but, under no circumstance, stop thinking about the change itself."

Tracey sent him a weird look, yet did as told. She closed her eyes and took way more time to begin. This time, the match's colour changed to a metallic-like one, just at its end sharpened into a point. It wasn't perfect, but it still was pretty good; way better than most of the class, in fact.

"It worked!" she exclaimed, what made all the eyes turn to their table once again. "I made it!"

She smiled widely, and Ron couldn't help himself but to do the same. To end the lecture as the only student to have made it would have felt good, he knew it, but this was way better.

By the end of the lecture, Tracey's needle had gotten even better. It wasn't as good as Granger's, of course, but similar to Greengrass's. Still, his needle was the best by far. I would kiss Percy and Gerd right now, the redhead thought as they stepped out of the classroom. He felt exhausted and even a bit drained, but overall, he felt happy.

However, it all would change as the twins came out of nowhere and surrounded him in the blink of an eye. "Hello there, little brother!" Fred greeted him. "It was about time for us to have a little conversation, right, George?"

"You are God damn right!" George nodded as he sent away all those around him just with one shady smile. "Come on, Ron. Our dear Percy is already waiting for us, and we wouldn't dare to make him wait."

They don't seem to be angry. That alone made Ron sigh in relief as they took him to some abandoned classroom on that same floor. When they made it inside, Percy was already there, seated on a chair as he read some thick book.

"Come on, Perce!" Fred groaned as soon as he stepped inside. "Can't you stop reading for just one minute? It's only the first day of school!"

"I wish you knew what maximising time means," Percy replied with a sigh as he closed the book. Then he turned to Ron and smiled. "Hello, Ron. Was everything okay on your first day? Did the classes go well?"

Ron couldn't answer, because the twins just made him sit in one chair in front of Percy. Then they both took a seat by his sides. Nervousness suddenly came at him once again; this felt like some kind of interrogation. "I-I don't know what to say," he slurred, out of the blue. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Percy asked, confused. A second later he turned towards the twins with a furrowed brow. "What have you two said to him?"

They both talked at the same time. "Nothing, I swear! We just brought him here after his class, as you told us!"

Percy and Ron shared a dumbfounded look; how on earth did they do it?

After a few seconds, Percy went on with a tired sigh. "You don't need to feel sorry for anything, Ron. We just wanted to make sure you were doing fine. Your sorting was a shock to us all, but even more for George and Fred. For quite some time, they felt a bit…, distressed and unhappy about it. Even so, after some late-night thinking, and thanks to some words from me, they are kinda fine with it… Well, more or less."

"Oh," Ron muttered, "I'm okay, I guess. Some of the Slytherins aren't so bad, in all truth. Most of them are a bunch of spoiled brats, of course, but nothing I can't deal with. Even so, there are a few of them who are giving me trouble, people like Malfoy and his goons; nothing too worrisome."

"We see," Fred said with a sombre voice. "Do you want us to send them our regards? We wouldn't mind testing some of our new products on a bunch of treacherous snakes. I bet they are really good test subjects."

"No," Ron instantly cut in. "This is something I need to handle by myself. I'm old enough to deal with my problems, and I need to make it clear that I'm not someone to be messed with. Besides, if I can't deal with Malfoy all by myself, I might as well renounce to the Weasley name."

"That's what I wanted to hear, little bro!" George smiled as he ruffled his hair. Then he turned serious, and… Wait, was that a bit of shame what Ron saw? "I was afraid that you… Well, that you've changed. The Hat's announcement took us by surprise, and I'm still a bit shocked, just for the record. But perhaps good ol' Perce here was right. That's a bad habit of his, you know?"

"Indeed, our dear brother's wisdom is something to be in awe of," Fred piped in, also with a serious look on his face. "We should've had more faith in you, Ron. You are our brother, so you better show those bloody snakes that they don't stand a chance against a Weasley!"

Words could not express the relief Ron felt. His brothers didn't despise him just because of his sorting! He'd known that Percy would take his side, and perhaps he could have convinced George if fortune was on his side. But to hear it from Fred's mouth? It meant all to Ron.

"Just don't let them put some of their ideas into your head," Fred went on, tapping his brother's temple with a finger. "I have faith in you, Ronnie, but they are a bunch of cunning bastards."

"That they are," George nodded to those words. "That they are…"

"Besides, if things get worse and you are in need of help," Fren took the word again, "then I'm sure we could get the Headmaster to meddle in. It's uncommon, but you won't be the first student who goes for a change of Houses."

"I don't want to be resorted," Ron said, louder than he'd first intended. "It was my choice to end up in Slytherin. The Hat just helped me to take the last step."

"Why?" Fred asked with a scowl on his face. "Why on earth would you ever choose to get into that viper's nest? For much I try, I just can't understand it."

"What my dear twin brother wants to say here," George cut in, "is that we are very confused by your decision. We have total faith in you, Ron, because we do, right?" Fred seemed to chunter some words no one heard, yet George nodded pleased at them. "Also, we'd appreciate it very much if you could shed a bit of light upon the matter."

For a moment, Ron just stood there, sitting in silence as three pairs of eyes stared at him. Then it all changed when the truth came out of his mouth. "Because I don't want to live in your shadow anymore," he blurted out.

There it was, finally!

"All my life, I've been wondering what I could do to be considered more than just another Weasley." Much to his surprise, the words seemed to flow out of him with ease. "Bill and Percy are two of the best students this school has ever seen. Then comes Charlie, a prodigy on the broom who could've played for the national team had he wanted. And lastly, there's the two of you, known and liked by everyone; the most infamous pranksters ever."

Ron took a moment to regain his breath, and also, to stare at his brother's faces. They looked totally out of words. "Say, what the hell am I supposed to do? Answer me, and then I may consider getting resorted to another House."

His explosion of sincerity had silenced the twins. On the contrary, Percy glanced at him with a smile on his face. He looked proud, and that encouraged Ron to go all the way.

"This is the reason why I started reading Percy's notes a few years ago," he continued. "This is the reason why every damn time Bill and Charlie came home, I asked them countless questions about their jobs. And you know what? I'm pretty damn happy I did that! Today, I earned a lot of House points all by myself. Today, people looked at me with admiration and envy for the first time in my life. For once, I was the centre of attention, and no sibling was there to shadow me."

The twins sat totally still, mouths open in awe. Even so, this time it was Percy the one to speak. "I understand you, Ron, I really do. I know plenty of Slytherins who aren't bad people. Ambitious and cunning students who also chose the path you've taken because they thought of it to be the best for their future. I respect your decision, and so will Fred once he thinks about it with a cold mind, but as the oldest Weasley here, there's something you must know—you must tell mum and dad about your decision."

Ron grimaced at that. "I know, I know," he sighed. "I barely paid them a thought since yesterday, but deep inside, I knew it wasn't the way. It was easier to avoid the matter, I suppose."

"That's going to be a problem, lil bro," George also sighed. "I wouldn't be too worried about dad, but mum is a whole different thing."

"It will be a huge problem, indeed, but one for another day," Percy said as he stood up. "If you need any help to prepare the letter, don't even hesitate to come to me, Ron." He then looked at his old watch. "I'm afraid this will be all for today—I have Prefect duties to carry out this evening, and it would be incredibly rude on my behalf to be late on the very first night of the year. I'll see you three around, I guess."

Percy left the room with no further word, and the three remaining siblings observed how the door closed after him. "Say what you will about Percy," George started, "but he'll be there when duty calls."

Fred nodded effusively at that, while Ron just let out a loud snort. Then he realised the silence in which they've fallen into. "Well, I guess this is all for today, right?" he said.

Fred was quick to cut in. "Wait a moment, Ron. All those things you said… Has it always been like that?"

"Well, yeah," Ron replied with a shrug. "It was the main reason why I joined Slytherin—because I wanted to do something no other Weasley had ever done. Even so, I'm still incredibly proud of our name and heritage, and nothing will ever change that; much less a bunch of snakes."

"Don't you worry about that, we know," George smiled at him. "This being said, if you ever find yourself in need of a bit of help, well…"

"We'll be there to rain hell and fire upon them," Fred completed with an even wider smile. "And to prank them a little bit, of course!"

"Very well said, dear Freddy," George nodded. "However, even if my desire to pull a little, innocent prank on Malfoy is strong, I would rather have a sandwich the size of my arm right now. What do you say, Ron? Doesn't sound bad at all, eh?"

"You bet!" Ron grinned.

And just like that, the three siblings walked out of the classroom—hungry, yes, but also happy and in peace within themselves.

---

How did he do it?

Daphne Greengrass was considered by most as a very confident and elegant girl; the perfect heiress of a Great House. She was ice, she was perfection; or so her facade said of her. And people, fools all, had always bought it.

All in truth, a facade was just a facade nonetheless, no matter how well it had been built.

Of course, she couldn't deny her life had been as easy as it came; after all, she'd had all she'd asked for, no matter the price or the rarity. Money wasn't a problem, and neither was her status among the pureblood circle of England. She wasn't all virtues and talents, of course. No, she had a few flaws here and there, like her habit of looking down upon others.

Even so, that couldn't be helped at all—she was a Greengrass, and they were better than most. And despite all those upsides, her name also carried plenty of things Daphne hated.

It was, indeed, a sword of double edge; a very sharp one.

Nothing but utmost excellence was expected of her, as her lord father had stated again and again. Because of that, she'd come prepared for her first year at Hogwarts. Appearances were very important for purebloods, and she'd shattered them all in just one day.

Out of nowhere, some boy from a non-important family had come into the picture to ruin all her plans. Daphne Greengrass had not been able to perform a simple transfiguration for much she'd tried, whereas Ronald Weasley had carried out to perfection.

She'd been so pissed about it, so embarrassed with herself, that when Weasley strode into the common room, a wide, idiotic smile on his face, all she'd done was to avoid glancing in his direction as he took a seat in front of Blaise.

"Hey there!" Tracey greeted him with a cheerful voice. "You look way happier now than you did this morning."

"Well, what can I say?" he said giddily. "It's been a pretty lovely day for me, don't you think so?"

Honestly, I liked him better with his head down, Daphne thought, trying her best to not stare at him. However, she knew well enough that those were some very hypocritical thoughts. Had she performed half as good as he did today, she would have gloated about it way more. Still, that hadn't happened, and so she felt rage at this red-haired boy. Where's Malfoy when you need him?

Daphne had been quick to grasp that their dynamic could generate loads of trouble for the entire first-year group. Against all odds, Weasley had proven himself as a valuable ally to have, and that, along with the fact that Malfoy wasn't very appreciated by most of them, could be the final blow to their pitiful group.

In short, trouble could be coming in Daphne's way—oh, she really hated unnecessary drama!

"... I didn't take you for a person who enjoyed chess," Blaise's voice suddenly came to her.

Daphne had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realised that a new conversation had been started.

"Well, I do," Weasley said. "I first played it when I was five or so. Been playing since then, though."

"Do you know that chess is one of the most common activities in many pureblood households?" Blaise went on. "I bet that, at least, three-quarters of Slytherin can play well enough."

This could be my chance! "So you play chess," Daphne cut in, startling the others. "If so, wouldn't you mind having a game with me, right, Weasley?" She used her most charming smile, the one her father was so proud of, to make him fall into her trap.

He just smirked back at her, full of confidence. "Sure, Greengrass!"

Daphne's smile grew wider as she stood up. It didn't take her long to find a random board in the common room, so she grabbed it and made her way back. She took a seat right in front of Weasley, a round table between them. "Whites or blacks?" she asked.

"I don't care."

"I'm taking whites, then."

Daphne made the first move, going for her best opening—the Queen's Gambit. She wanted to crush this arrogant redhead as quickly as possible. However, it turned out he really knew how to play the game. In fact, he was able to see through every one of her moves with ease.

"You are good," he pointed out, his eyes not leaving the board for an instant.

One of her pieces fell, a bishop, but she took one of his knights in exchange. "I play a lot with my family," she finally replied. "My father is very good, but my uncle is the best."

No more words were uttered as the game progressed. Daphne was faintly aware of the way Blaise and Tracey stared at the board, yet she also pushed them aside. Not as if it mattered, though.

In the end, Weasley proved to be better than her once again.

The game had not lasted more than ten minutes, which had been more than enough to crush Daphne's strategy. "You should surrender," he said with a smirk, "and you know it very well."

"Shut up," she replied, "this is not over yet."

"But it is—there, checkmate." And so, his remaining knight destroyed the white king.

She, Daphne Greengrass, had been defeated by a Weasley. Twice.

---

In the end, it turned out that his day could finish in an even better way.

This girl who had refused to even look in his direction yesterday had challenged him to a game of chess. Greengrass had clearly thought she was much better than him, but little did she know about the fact Ron had played the game for more than six years. What's more, he'd played against tough opponents, like his brother Bill or his grandfather, whom he'd come to eventually defeat after countless defeats.

"You shouldn't take others for granted, Greengrass," Ron smirked at her.

"What are you on about?" she squealed, her face now red as a cherry. "I-I didn't take you for granted! Stop making up things!"

That made him laugh—honestly, did she really think he'd buy her act? "You aren't tricking anyone with that crap. To be fair, you are much better than I thought. I'd say you are on my level, or even a tad better. Even so, you came to me thinking this would be a quick spank, and you became overconfident. You played far too aggressively, expecting no trace of skill or thought on my behalf. You wanted to crush me as fast as possible. Well, it turns out that I'm not as stupid as you thought. It's a shame you can't always win, right? I'm lucky that skill and wits can't be bought with money nor with a name."

That did it.

"You know what?" Daphne hissed as she stood up. "Gryffindor always accuses us of thinking that we are better than everyone else. It's now when I realised the Hat hit the nail with your sorting. You are the perfect Slytherin! Since you came here, all you've done is to look down upon us, as if we were the worst kind to ever walk this planet. How does it feel up there, Weasley? Pretty good, I suppose! In the end, you are no different from Malfoy!"

After her long rambling, she just walked out with tears in her eyes; despite that, her stride was far from downcast. Proud until the end, Ron reckoned. Bloody girl! These pureblood snobs can't even take some truths! What a spoiled brat! Just as he finished gathering all the pieces, he noticed that Zabini now looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"That was mean and unnecessary," he just said.

"The hell are you on about?" the redhead questioned him. "I stand by what I said. Yesterday, she didn't even bat an eye in my direction, and that only changed because she thought she could humiliate me at my own game."

"If you want to be like that, sure, be my guest," Zabini rolled his eyes. "Daphne was right about you, wasn't she? Since you came here, all you've done is to look down upon us, just because of things you heard about us. Look around you, Weasley. Not all of us here are like Malfoy and Parkinson. Hell, you were about to cry yesterday, and I tried to show you a bit of kindness, yet you still look at me as if I was some kind of Death Eater in disguise."

This being said, Zabini just huffed as he also walked away.

What the hell was that?

"He's kinda right, you know?" Tracey piped in softly. "Although you've been very nice to me, which I really appreciate, I've seen the way you look at others. From what little I know of Blaise, he isn't a mean boy. Also, I think you really crossed the line with Daphne. There was no need to say that last part."

Ron just blinked at her. "What?" he finally said. "Okay, perhaps I've been a bit too harsh on Zabini. He's been nothing but a good bloke to me, and I might have…, placed him in the same group as Malfoy and Nott. However, Greengrass? She was looking to humiliate me! She deserved that and more."

"Even so, she never said a mean word to you," Tracey continued, now much firmer. "Besides, had Daphne won the game, she wouldn't have acted the way you did." Ron just snorted at that, which seemed to fuel Tracey's determination. "I know her way better than you do, so trust me when I say that you have a wrong idea of her."

"Huh? Go on, enlighten me then."

"For starters, you don't have to be like that with me, Ronald," she scowled. "I'm on your side, but I also want the best for you."

Ron just sighed as he massaged his temples. "Okay, sorry. I was out of the line."

Tracey just nodded at that, satisfied. "Look, Daphne might be vain and self-centred, but she won't ever bully or mock you. She just wants to do her things, and she wants others to let her do her things. Daphne ignores those she doesn't like, and she wants them to also ignore her. As simple as it comes, really. Now, even if her intentions weren't the best, there was no need to be so harsh on her. Not everyone here is trying to hurt you."

"Okay," Ron finally admitted defeat. "I went too far, I'll give you that, and I regret it. Even so, I don't feel sorry for her. She needs to learn how to face some ugly truths once in a while. One just can't have everything given to them in a silver plate. Life doesn't work that way."

Tracey sighed, resigned. "As I said before, we all know she's very spoiled and proud of her name. It is also true that she gets all she wants just by asking her parents. However, even if you have trouble believing it, her life isn't so easy. Now, before you open that big mouth of yours, I know that having stupid amounts of money and power helps quite a bit—I'd never deny that. Even so, I also have a stupid amount of money in my vaults, so much that I wouldn't know how to spend it in a few lives. But unlike her, I carry zero pressure on my shoulders."

"Pressure?" the redhead asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"This is gonna be harder than I expected, right?" she groaned. "Well, listen to me, Ron—Professor Davis is gonna teach you a few things about purebloods and their weird culture. Eh, don't roll your eyes at me! This is very important if you want to do well within Slytherin."

"Okay, okay. Go ahead, Professor."

"First lesson of the day—like Blaise said, not everyone here is a Death Eater in disguise. Well, some of them are, of course, but not most. So, if I were you, I wouldn't stare so judginly at the older students; they might not take it so well, you know?"

That made sense, Ron reckoned.

"In fact, most people here are just heirs and heiresses from Noble and Ancient Houses. By the way, Daphne happens to be the heiress of one of the most important families in Europe. That alone puts a lot of pressure on her shoulders, which gets to her a lot; way more than she'd ever admit. On top of it all, then comes her father."

Tracey took a moment to think about her next words. "He's a very tough and strict man who expects nothing but utmost excellence from her eldest daughter. I know for a fact—well, because her mother told me—that Daphne has spent the last few weeks very stressed. During summer, she'd studied a lot, she'd prepared herself for Hogwarts. Despite that, she failed quite miserably, and then you stormed into the picture. You outshone her and everyone else, and even if you didn't notice it, you certainly looked quite smug about it. When she overheard you talking about chess, she saw an opportunity to end her day on a good note. However, you didn't just defeat her. No, you crushed her, and then you humiliated her in front of Blaise and I. Can you see it?"

Ron remained silent for a few seconds. "Bloody hell," he ended up sighing. "You sure wanted to give me a lecture, eh? My mind is about to explode."

But now that he thought about it, Ron knew she'd said no lies. He wasn't ready to admit it aloud, and nor did he feel truly sorry for Greengrass, but he'd acted just like the kind of person he hated; just like Malfoy would have. Damn, I was so happy after that talk with my brothers that I got carried away. I was a sore winner here.

"You could say that," Tracey smiled widely at him. "I've already told you—I'm on your side. Which means that I will try my best to stop you from committing mistakes. Now that the easy part is done, we can move on onto the difficult one. You must apologise to Blaise and Daphne."

"No way in hell!" he complained. "I might apologise to Zabini since he kinda deserves it, but you better forget about Greengrass. No, there's just no way that's happening."

"Listen," Tracey groaned, "even if she doesn't deserve it, you should do it regardless. See it as an offer of peace, not as an apology. We are alone here, and Daphne doesn't want much to do with Malfoy and his ilk. If you agonise her a few more times, then perhaps you'll have another enemy to worry about within these walls. Try to be better, try to show her that you two can be on good terms, and then maybe you'll find out she ain't as bad as you think she is."

Why is it always me who needs to apologise? Ron didn't want to do it, still, some words from the Hat came to his mind right at this moment; a certain promise he'd made. It seemed that not a single soul agreed with him on this matter. Besides, if Tracey thought of it to be the best for him, then maybe it was the right path to take.

"Okay, I'll do it," Ron sighed in defeat. "I will apologise to Daphne bloody Greengrass."

"That's what I wanted to hear!"

This being said, Ron bid farewell to the happy girl and went in search of Blaise Zabini. He found the boy in their bedroom, laying on his bed as he read some book about the art of potion brewing. The curtains of his bedpost were wide open, but he sat up to close them as the redhead stepped into the room.

"I'm sorry," Ron said in a blur. Those words stopped Zabini right away, who now looked at the redhead with a raised brow. "You were right. I was an idiot, and I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I'm sorry for it."

Zabini gave him a slight nod. "Wasn't so hard, was it? I must say this was one of the worst apologies I've ever seen, however, it was sincere, and that alone makes up for it. Apologies accepted, Weasley."

"You could use my first name from now on, you know?"

"Sure, if that's what you want. Now, what would I receive in response?"

Ron just stared at him, dumfounded. "Are you barmy or what? It's just a name."

"This is the way things work here, Weasley," Zabini smirked at him. "If you want something from someone, then you must give something in return. One as valuable as the one you asked for."

Ron rolled his eyes, a few thoughts shy from drawing out his wand and cursing this idiot. "So be it," he said, instead. "From now on, you will use my first name, and in return, I will use yours."

Blaise just blinked in response.

"We will be friends, or we will try, at least," the redhead went on. "Because, even if you aren't used to it, friends help each other when they need it. I'll have your back, and you'll have mine. What do you say, Blaise? Do you accept my offer?"

"You got me here, Ron," he finally said. "I accept it."

That night, sleep came much easier for Ron. In fact, by the time his bed started shaking the following morning, he practically jumped out of it, eyes wide open. His enthusiasm surprised his two roommates, who were still yawning their sleep away.

"What's gotten into you?" Nott asked as Ron got dressed fast and swiftly.

"There's something I need to do before breakfast," he replied. Ron didn't know how early Greangrass used to wake up, and so, he needed to meet her before she could walk out of the common room.

When he made it there, there was not a single soul around. He decided to wait right at the exit of the dormitories' hallway—hands tucked into his pockets and his back leaning onto the wall, acting as disinterested as he could.

The problem was that, well, girls being girls, came all together, and so, he caught their attention by clearing his throat as they walked past him. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Greengrass?" he asked. That made her raise a brow, yet her eyes showed the full picture. She still was quite angry at him.

None of the girls moved a muscle. "In private, please?" he added.

Finally, Greengrass gave him a nod, and so Ron beckoned her to follow him. He led the girl to a more private section of the common room, to the farthest area from both the exit and the dormitories' hallway. There he stopped, scratching the back of his head as the words just didn't seem to flow out.

"Well?" she urged him.

"Huh? Well, I just wanted to… To apologise, that's it. I wanted to apologise for how much a sore winner I was yesterday."

Greengrass raised her brow even more. Bloody hell! How much can this girl raise her brow? Still no answer came from her. No, she just stood there, eyes fixed on him and arms folded over her chest.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Ron pressed on.

"That has to be the worst apology I've ever heard," Greengrass huffed. "I'm pretty sure you can do better, Weasley."

It seemed that, indeed, she still was rather cross with him. It was something to be amazed at—it must have taken a lot of practice to be able to display such levels of bad temper this early into the morning. Then there was him, who could barely keep his eyes open.

However, he'd made a promise about trying to do things better, and Weasleys were true to their words. "I'm sorry about being such a sore winner," he repeated with a sigh. "And also for the things I said after the game. I put you in the same sack as Malfoy and Parkinson, yet you did nothing to deserve that. Again, I'm sorry. Can't say much more than that."

She had the nerve to smirk! "Okay, that was much better. Even so, there's one missing detail here. Without it, I won't accept your apologies."

"Say what?"

She just extended her arm forward, showing Ron the back of her hand. "You ought to kiss my knuckle. That's the proper way to apologise to a trueborn lady like me."

Now she was really trying to get him mad, Ron swore. Remember your promise! Just for once, keep your mouth shut and do not screw things up! Ron grabbed her hand, which felt delicate and warm to the touch. I mean, she's probably never washed a dish in her life, of course her hands would feel like this. Fastly and swiftly, he kissed her knuckle, though not as much as he let it go. Then he hoped for his ears to not be as red as he knew they were.

"Apologies accepted," Greengrass snickered. "Honestly, I didn't think you had the guts to do this. I now understand that you really wanted us to not be on bad terms. Well, in that case… I must also apologise. You were right—I wanted to crush you, mainly because I thought you had no idea about how to play the game, thus it would be an easy win. I really disrespected you, and for that, I'm truly sorry."

Clearly she wasn't very used to apologising either, because her face turned all pink in the blink of an eye. "Listen," Greengrass started, her eyes fixated on the floor, "let's just forget this happened, okay? I was wrong about you, and you were wrong about me; that's as far as it goes. So what do you say, Ronald Weasley? Allies?"

But he had an even better idea. "Friends, Daphne Greengrass?"

She smiled, and then Ron understood once again that, perhaps, Slytherin wasn't so bad at all.