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Chapter 5 - Slytherin, ancient and proud

Ron's week improved drastically after making peace with Daphne and Blaise. All in truth, there still were many problems within Slytherin yet to be solved, of course, but the dynamic of the first-years had been stabilised…

More or less.

On paper, there were two groups who couldn't stand one another. There was Ron's group, with Blaise, Tracey and Daphne, and then Malfoy's, with Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson. There also was a wildcard, and his name was Theodore Nott.

For much he tried, Ron just couldn't figure him out. He'd never insulted the redhead, yet had no problem laughing at him when others threw a cruel remark. What's more, it also worked the other way around. Nott would also laugh at Malfoy when Ron bit back at him. Without a doubt, Nott was the weirdest individual Ron had ever met.

A new day was announced by dawn, yet Ron never came to see it, for he lived right under the Great Lake. Still, he woke up when it came. Today, he was going to attend his first lecture of Defence Against the Dark Arts, his favourite subject.

However, as the morning went by, a huge disappointment was all he would find.

Quirrell was a joke of a Professor, of that he was sure. All he'd done was to talk about his multiple adventures around the Wizarding World, about all those creatures he'd come to face in them. At first, they all listened keenly, however, as soon as the students started to ask questions, details about the said ventures, Quirrell was quick to change the topic. In just one class, he'd managed to label himself as a fraud.

On the contrary, the most pleasant surprise from the first week of classes had been, against all odds, Potions. The art of potion's brewing was much more complex than throwing things into a cauldron and mixing them up, and that was left pretty clear when Snape started to talk about it; the very first time he acted as if he wasn't a walking mass of fury and disdain.

Despite that, and although the young Professor was the Head of his House, Ron had no problems admitting that Snape was a complete git to anyone who wasn't dressed in silver and green. Even to those brilliant students like Hermione Granger, whose wits were welcomed into his class with cruel and unfair remarks.

Up to this day, Ron was the student who'd won the most House Points, but even with his preparation, he wasn't the best in all the subjects; not even close. True enough, McGonagall, Flitwick and Binns held him in high regard, but in Potions he was surpassed by at least five students, Blaise being the best of them all. Also, surprisingly, Neville Longbottom was the best in Herbology.

It had been a beautiful journey so far, but, of course, there always was a darker side to it.

Come on, you dunderhead, it ain't so hard, Ron urged himself. All you gotta do is to hand the latter to one of these owls. Simple as that. Even so, the truth was he'd needed the entire week to write this bloody letter, the one in which he would tell his parents about his sorting. He'd tried it in many ways, but, in the end, he'd gone for the easiest one: to blurt out all his thoughts into the parchment, in hopes they would understand his reasons.

Once more, his right hand tightened its grip on the letter, knuckles going white. It felt way heavier than a letter should ever feel, unlike the one in his left hand, in which he had fulfilled a promise he made to Ginny when summer began. As her older brother, it was his duty to explain to her all there was to know about Hogwarts, just as about the people he'd met here.

At last, after more than twenty minutes of pacing through the owlery, Ron was finished and freed from his duty. All in truth, he felt much, much better now, and he really took delight in the warm, bright sun once he stepped out of the castle, on his way to the flying grounds, located near the Quidditch field. It was a good day to fly, with a fresh breeze that would trouble no one atop of a broom.

The way down was a long one, true, and he spotted no student from Slytherin while at it. In fact, when the voices came to his ears, they belonged to the lions. In particular, to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Harry was also there, by Neville's side, but none of them took part in the conversation; faces pale and sweaty, they looked really nervous.

"Hey there!" Ron greeted them with a nod. "Nervous about your first flight, Harry?"

"Of course I am!" Harry huffed in response. "I've never done it before! Unlike everyone else here, it seems, who cannot stop talking about how wonderful and easy it is! I swear that if I fall in front of Malfoy, I'm leaving the school before this day comes to an end…"

Ron just shook his head to that. "Don't worry about him too much," he said. "I'm pretty sure talking is the only thing he's good at… Oh, shit, Madam Hooch's arrived! See you guys later, then!" Ron ran towards his house-mates, who kept a healthy distance with the Gryffindors.

He came to a halt at the first free broom he found, one between Daphne and Blaise.

"What are you waiting for!" Madam Hooch barked at the few students still out of place, people like Longbottom and Brown. "Everyone stand by a broom right now! Yeah, that's much better!" The stern witch's eyes went from one student to another, stopping for quite a while in some while skipping most. Then, she nodded and went on about the use of flying broomsticks.

To which, of course, Ron barely paid any attention at all.

Well, this is something I can definitely do. A choir of "Up!" filled the place as the broom leaped to his hand. Ron looked around and saw that just a few students, such as Malfoy, Harry, Nott and Finnengan, had done it perfectly.

The class went on, and Ron did as Madam Hooch ordered, anxious to skip this boring part and do one of the things he enjoyed the most, flying.

Suddenly, her speech stopped, eyes going up and face getting paler with each second. Much to everyone's horror, Neville was rising up with no control over his broom. Oh, shit! That's not going to end well! Ouch… That has to bloody hurt!

The class was quick to gather around Neville, who whimpered in pain sprawled on the ground in quite the weird position; his broken broom laid to his side. "A broken wrist," Hooch mused after a quick examination. "Okay, none of you is to move a single hair while I take him to the medical wing! It will be the last thing you do here, I swear!" With trouble, she managed to help Neville back on his feet, and so, the two of them left the field under everyone's eyes.

"That must have hurt," Daphne said, suddenly appearing at Ron's side. "I hope they learn from this. Flying lessons should not be mandatory."

"What are you on about?" the redhead sent her a bewildered look. "Isn't it enough that we can't apply for the Quidditch team? Merlin, you are barmy!"

"Don't look at me like that," Daphne bit back, elbowing him in the ribs in a not so soft way. "Flying is dangerous, as you just saw. Also, it isn't an activity proper for a lady like me." Her eyes looked up out of the blue. "Hey, what's Malfoy doing up there? And why is Potter after him? Has everyone lost their heads here?"

Ron joined the entire class and looked at the blue sky, where two of the students had an argument. From that point and onwards, it all spiralled out of control.

Bloody hell! Harry sure knows how to fly! Something had happened between the two boys, and whereas Malfoy had been quick to fly away from Harry, it hadn't taken long for the Gryffindor to catch up. They both rocketed through the Quidditch field for a few seconds, then Malfoy threw something far away.

It was a little, shiny thing; nothing extraordinary, most likely, but important enough for Harry to go after it.

"He isn't gonna make it," Daphne mused, her eyes following every of Harry's moves. "There's no way!"

"Shit," Ron said in awe. "He did it! I can't believe my eyes right now! That was splendid!"

Much to everyone's surprise, Harry had indeed made it. He'd caught the red, shiny ball inches away from the ground. All in truth, even he himself looked surprised beyond measure, and not without a reason—wasn't this supposed to be his first time atop a broom? He went down rather slowly, unlike the Gryffindors who ran towards him. All but one; Hermione Granger, who looked rather displeased.

Ron, however, chose to look at Malfoy. "Ha! He isn't so full of smiles anymore! Cheeky bastard got what he deserved!" The blond boy had yet to fly down, a look of surprise carved into his face. "Hopefully that will teach him a lesson."

Even so, the lions' euphory would come to an end rather soon.

"Harry Potter!" a voice cut through their shouts with ease. It belonged to McGonagall, who strode towards them with a furious look on her face. "Come with me now! Let's go, you better not make me repeat it!"

Harry was quick to obey, dropping his broom unceremoniously just when McGonagall turned around. Long gone was Gryffindor's euphoria, now replaced by a cold silence which, of course, was broken by none other but Draco Malfoy.

The blond landed with a full smirk on his face. "I think there's going to be one empty bed in the Gryffindor Tower today, ha!" Of course, his lackeys were quick to laugh at that, and even Nott gave the hint of an amused smile.

His comments ignited the lions, and Ron too. Because of this idiot, Harry's dream could have come to an end. It was so unfair it hurt!

However, just about to draw out his wand, a pair of delicate hands covered his mouth. "Do not be stupid and make a number here," Daphne hissed into his ear. "Much less to defend a Gryffindor. If you worry so much about your friend, you can ask him later, in private."

Ron shook her hands away, furious beyond measure. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed back. "Have you gone mad?"

"I'm saving your neck, that's what I'm doing," Daphne sneered. "In case you forgot, we agreed to teach you, a complete dunderhead, how to survive in Slytherin. If you get into a fight with Malfoy for the sake of a Gryffindor, then you are done. You will not only be repudiated by our House, but also by Professor Snape himself; this is Potter we are talking about, after all."

Why do they need to be this infuriating? Ahg! Even so, in the end, Ron listened to her; for now, at least. He'd given them his words, and that was sacred to a Weasley. Someday I'll get to clock that bastard, that's for sure. Or perhaps I should try hexing him…

His fury did not die once the flying practice came to an end, and it lasted long until the night, even though the day became quite ordinary after the eventful morning. Dinner and the feast he engulfed helped a bit to soothe his foul mood, but it wouldn't be until later on that Ron would finally breathe in peace.

Just as he exited the Great Hall, all by himself, it was Harry who approached him. "Hey, do you have a moment?" he asked with a rushed breath.

"Harry!" Ron said in response, quite surprised to see his friend. "What happened to you? Rumour was that you got expelled!"

"What? No way in hell!" Harry huffed, almost amused. "McGonagall named me Gryffindor's new seeker! But, listen, as wonderful as it is, that's not the point-"

"For real!" Ron cut in. "Bloody hell, Harry! You gotta be the youngest seeker in like a hundred years or so!"

"A century, I know," he said. "Now, please, listen to me. Malfoy has challenged me to a duel this midnight, and I don't have a bloody clue about what to do in a duel. I know he won't play by the rules, and that's why you will come with me… Right?"

A duel? Ron thought, smirking to himself. This is wonderful! Daphne told me to sort out my problems in private, right? Well, this ain't getting more private anytime soon. "Count on me," Ron said instantly. "I too have some matters to solve with that blond ferret."

"Oh, thank you," Harry sighed in relief. "We are meeting in the Trophy's Room tonight, wherever it is."

"I'll be there."

Night finally came as Ron waited for everyone to fall asleep.

He laid on his bed, still dressed in his daily robes and busy thinking about which hex he could use against Malfoy. Time passed, and finally both Blaise and Nott fell into the oneiric world, as their loud snores told him. It was time to get on the move! For anyone else, walking in the middle of the night without making much noise would no doubt be a hard task to accomplish, however, he was a true Weasley who had mastered moving through The Burrow's stairs. In comparison, this was rather easy.

However, his confidence left him alone the moment the redhead stepped out of the common room. Under the night's penumbra, Hogwarts was a scary place. Many torches still brightened the corridors, though they still looked endless, like a void about to swallow those silly students who dared to venture through the.

Still, he made it to the Trophy's Room, and there Ron found himself pretty much alone.

Where the hell is everybody? Noise came from his back, and he was quick to turn around wand in hand. Just then did Harry appear, and not alone. By his side walked Granger, who looked rather annoyed, and Longbottom, whose face had lost all trace of colour.

"Ron!" Harry greeted him. "Thank God you are here! Where is Malfoy, by the way? He should already be here…"

"No idea, mate," Ron replied, eyes still on the two unexpected guests. "What are they doing here?"

Harry sent quite the annoyed look at Granger. "Well, she tried to stop me from coming here. I, of course, didn't listen, but she still followed me out of the common room. When she gave up and tried to go back, we realised the Fat Lady was nowhere to be seen, hence the door remained closed." His eyes fell on Neville then, and they softened. "We found Neville right outside the common room."

"I got my leave from the medical wing quite late," the plump boy added. "When I reached the Tower, I found out that I couldn't get inside, and so I waited for someone to appear and help me… Well, as you can see, it didn't turn out well at all…"

Okay, this is some weird shit, that's for sure. Still, he shrugged those thoughts away. "Whatever," Ron sighed. "What has me worried is the fact that blond ferret has yet to appear. I don't like this at all…"

Granger's head suddenly perked up. "Shh," she shushed the redhead. "Did you guys hear that?"

The three boys paid attention to their surroundings… Were those footsteps what could be heard?

"Crap!" Harry hissed in a whisper. "It's Filch and his cat! We need to run!"

And to run they did, as fast and silently as they could. The group sprinted down entire corridors and went through those doors they found in their way, almost blindly, with a sole thought in their minds: that of survival.

"Malfoy tricked you!" Granger shrieked as they entered some abandoned hallway, one bathed in an even deeper darkness. "Just as I told you! You should have listened to me! Now I am going to be expelled!"

"Shut up!" Ron hissed. "This ain't the time for that! Besides, you are giving me a headache with your noisy complaints!"

Granger was about to shoot back, he could tell, but a sudden noise startled them once more—Filch was getting closer!

"Oh, my dear students…" the caretaker sang, his voice still faint and weak. "I know you are here! Come and get out so we can talk… I promise there's nothing to worry about, my dear students…"

Good luck with that! Ron ran like never before, so fast he almost tripped twice. He didn't bother to look back once; if the rest couldn't run faster, then it was their problem. He was practically out of breath, but not as if it mattered. Their escape suddenly came to an end as they crashed against a locked door.

Harry tried to ram it open with a push of his shoulder, but it was of no use.

"Come on, you cannot be serious!" Granger huffed. "Get your wand out, anyone!"

"I'm bloody stupid," Ron cursed himself and his stupidity. His trembling hand managed to get a hold of his wand. "Alohomora!" With a loud click the door was opened and they stormed inside.

Harry, the last to enter, closed the door after him. For a few seconds which seemed like an eternity, all they heard was the noise of their breaths, short and rushed. Then came the voices. One was Filch's, and the other… It was Peeves! The two of them got into an argument. Well, Filch did, because all they could hear from the poltergeist was his loud, acute guffaws.

Bit by bit, the voices became fainter, until silence finally reigned.

"Merlin bless you, Peeves," Ron mused, taking a seat on the cold floor. His legs took relief in that, tired and pained after such a long sprint. To his side, both Harry and Hermione did the same.

Neville, however, stood on his feet, which tapped nervously on the floor. "G-Guys…" he started with a trembling voice. "W-W aren't alone…"

Ron was the first to raise his eyes, ready to laugh at Neville's silly fear. But his words died before even being born, just as all trace of colour was drained from his face. In front of them stood a large beast, similar to a dog, but with three heads full of long, sharp fangs. It was then when the Headmaster's words came to Ron's mind, some nonsense about finding the most horrible of the deaths at some abandoned corridor…

They all shouted for their lives, running out of the classroom as fast as their legs allowed them. Long gone was their worry about Filch and his cat, replaced by a much primal fear. All Ron wanted was to crawl back to his bed.

And so, they ran and ran until their legs gave up. When that happened, they simply ignored the pain and pushed on. Finally, they stopped somewhere on the second floor.

"You know what?" Ron asked, out of breath. "I think it's time for me to go back to bed…" He did not wait for their response. No, the redhead just took the closest staircase and went down, towards the dungeons. What the bloody hell is Dumbledore thinking? Whose brilliant idea was to bring that hellspawn to a damn school?

When he made it to the entrance to the common room, Ron blurted out the password as best as he could. The way back to his dormitory was a short one, but it sure seemed endless, no matter how much he forced his legs to move. That night, Ron fell asleep in the blink of an eye with his robes still on.

Tuesday came, and for the first time in a week, Ron had trouble waking up. Wait, why am I already dressed? Then, he remembered the events from the previous night, and he shivered despite the warm tunic he wore.

His head hurt like hell, but Ron still stood up. There was no one else in the room, so they must have left quite early. He did some quick stretches, despite the many complaints his body expressed, before going in search of his friends.

Ron found them all with ease, sat on the same couches in which he defeated Daphne in that innocent game of chess. "Good morning!" he yawned. "Who's excited for a great Herbology lesson at first light?"

Daphne frowned at him; to his robes, precisely. "Why are your clothes so wrinkled?" she asked, looking for an answer to such a strange dilemma. "Wait, you know what? I will rather not know the answer…"

About to reply, he was interrupted by a perplexed voice; one he knew very well. "Weasley?" Malfoy let out. "What are you doing here?"

Just in time, Ron managed to refrain himself. He could not, under any circumstance, have another row with Malfoy. Snape had left that pretty clear. But, on the other hand… He tricked us! Malfoy was the one to tell Filch about us!

His face turned red in the blink of an eye. "You bastard," Ron growled. "You will pay for what you did…"

"Have you gone mad?" Malfoy smirked, tapping his head with a finger in a very illustrative gesture. "Oh, wait, I know. Perhaps, your robes are so tight that it has already started to affect your brain! Oh, no! You should buy another set… Ups, I forgot that you cannot afford them!"

All those students who were in the common room started to laugh at that.

Ron's eyes tore up a bit, face red and clenched in rage. With no hint of thought, he drew out his wand, aiming it at Malfoy's head.

However, Tracey stood up and came in his aid. "Do not do it, Ron!" she exclaimed, taking a hold of his arm. "Let him talk. It's all he's good at."

"That's it, Weasley," Malfoy laughed out loud. "Listen to your filthy half-blood friend, as the good traitor to the Blood you are. Do your filthy kin proud!"

That did it.

Ron shook Tracey off his arm, wand glowing red. Charlie, your little brother is gonna make you proud! "Flipendo!" he chanted. Malfoy could not react in time. The spell hit him in the chest, and the blond was launched backwards, into a table, flying past it and falling to the floor in a very funny position.

To his back, Daphne and the others gasped at that, whereas the common room broke in laughter, way louder than before. On his behalf, Ron allowed himself to smirk, really proud of his work. However, it was shortly erased from his face.

Crabbe grunted, then sprinted towards a surprised Ron, who had not expected him to have any kind of initiative. One hard punch right in the face; that's all it took for Crabbe to send him down, stunned, tasting blood inside his mouth.

"Ron!" Tracey cried out.

Crabbe got on top of him, then punched the redhead a second time. Ron tried to fight him off, but he was far stronger. Many more punches came, some hit while others missed, until he finally managed to aim his wand at Crabbe. But then came Goyle, out of nowhere yet also out of reason, who kicked the wand out of his hand. Shit, I'm dead.

Crabbe's fist raised one last time, and just when it was about to fall down, he froze while at it. He fell backwards with a loud thud. "The fuck are you brats doing?" a voice hissed, putting an end to the general laughter with ease. Another thud followed, and now it was Goyle who fell down, eyes wide open in surprise.

With trouble, Ron managed to sit up, spatting a clot of blood over the carpet. He looked up, in search of his survivor, and he found it. Daniel Williams stared back at him with a bored look on his face. "There's no need to answer me," the Prefect grunted. "I do not care."

He then turned around, eyes set on Tracey. "You, the crying girl, care to explain what happened here?"

"Ron just tried to defend himself," Tracey started, eyes full of tears. "He-"

"Whatever," Williams cut in. "You four, pack of fools, are coming with me, and you will explain it all in chapter and verse to Professor Snape." He turned yet again, facing some third-year boy who had enjoyed the brawl at great length. "Your name was Marcus, wasn't it? Well, since you have a free period this morning, you will come with us too. Come on, grab these two fat cunts and walk them to Snape's office."

Ron was yanked up from the floor by Williams, and, just like that, his way down to hell began. The group walked in silence through many corridors. True to his word, Marcus had carried out his task of carrying Crabbe and Goyle, who, still paralyzed, levitated around the lanky boy, whose amused smile was long gone. Daniel led the group with a quick stride, and at his tail walked both Malfoy and Ron, eyes set on the path ahead of them.

Shit, I'm so dead now! No, I'm way more than dead! They finally arrived, and it was Daniel who knocked on the door. "Professor?" he called. "It's me, Daniel. I have some problems in need of your judgement."

The door was opened, and so, they all stepped inside. Ron tried to keep his head down, but his eyes did wander a bit. It was a large room; larger that he'd expected, at least. Countless shelves filled the walls, some held thick books of colourful covers while others held jars full of strange things. There was a funny scent in the air, humid yet also a tad perfumed; were those lilies that he smelled?

"What happened?" Sanpe asked from across his table, a perfect scowl on his face. "Why is Weasley bleeding?"

"It's a long story, I guess," Daniel said with a shrug. "You should ask Marcus here; he'll answer you better than anyone else."

Snape looked at Daniel dead in the eyes, and Ron, for much he wondered, had no idea who could the Prefect withstand such an intense glare. "Thank you, Williams," Snape finally said. "Take Weasley to the medical wing. I will discuss the matter with him later, in private."

Then, the Prefect just grabbed his arm and pulled the redhead out of the office. Ron limited himself to follow the older boy, in silence, through many corridors and staircases.

"You need to have a thicker skin," Daniel sighed as they hopped onto a large staircase. "Doing what you did, it puts you at the same level of that bigot. You are just as stupid as he is."

"What did you expect me to do?" Ron complained. "He insulted my friend! He called her a filthy half-blood, and he referred to me as a traitor to the Blood. You, better than anyone else, should understand why I did it."

"I do," Daniel grunted, turning back with a serious look. "That's why I'm trying so hard to help you, you ungrateful brat. Honestly, I like you, Ronald—you have balls, and from what little I've heard, you are also clever and ambitious. This being said, you are committing the very same mistakes I once committed, when I was your age."

Out of the blue, he came to a halt, and Ron crashed into him. "You must learn to control your temper. Here, in Slytherin, there are dangerous people. Unlike that clown you just humiliated, they do not like to stand out, but they hate when their place is questioned. Oh, that they do! For some, Blood Supremacy is quite important, and they have the ways to defend their beliefs. Do not be so stupid and think twice next time. Draco is a fool, yes, but the name of Malfoy is appreciated by many."

Then, Daniel pressed his hand on Ron's lips, muttering some words in a low voice.

The redhead felt a warm sensation on his face, and pain suddenly went away. "What did you do?" Ron asked, perplexed, as he touched his lip. There was no trace of blood in his hands! "Wait, did you just heal me?"

"I'm not going to walk you to the medical wing just because of some damned broken lip," Daniel smirked; the mere thought of that seemed to amuse him. "Do you even know how far that place is? No, I have better things to do—I'm a busy wizard, after all. Come on, go outside and enjoy some fresh air so I can pretend that I carried out my task."

Once the staircase arrived at its destination, Daniel just walked down, back to the dungeons. Ron, however, stood rooted to the spot, eyes glued to him. Holy shit! He's amazing! In the end, he did as told, making his way outside, to the gardens. There, he looked for a tall tree, one in which, under its shadow, he could enjoy the warm sun and the cool breeze.

It didn't take him much to find it.

Atop of a hill, a large oak rested, its foliage so thick it seemed to shadow the entire crown of the hill. Also, it had great views of the Great Lake. With a tired sigh, Ron took a seat there, his back leaning over the thick log, and closed his eyes. What an eventful day! Also, where the bloody hell is Gerd? She used to disappear from time to time, but just for a few days… It's been more than a week since I last saw here…

His thoughts roamed for quite a long time, about every matter his head could come up with; some were of importance, like the upcoming chat with his parents, while others were as silly as they could be, like the fact he'd missed breakfast this morning. However, he soon was pulled out of his stupor by a sudden arrival.

Theodore Nott took a seat by his side, under the oak's shadow. "You are a very interesting individual, Ronald Weasley," he voiced out. Nott gave him the hint of a smirk, yet his eyes remained fixed on the Great Lake. "Against all odds, you got sorted into Slytherin, a place forbidden to your kin. Against all odds, you prove yourself to be a very capable student, and perhaps also a very capable wizard…"

"What do you want?" Ron asked with a sigh. Out of all his year mates, Nott was the weirdest. He spent time with the two sides, that of Malfoy's and that of Ron's, not giving a single qualm about their beef.

"Nothing, I guess," Nott replied. "I came here to talk, you could say. The thing is, I believe you can do very well here, in Slytherin, but you ought to play your cards right… Unlike Draco, who's destroying the legacy his father once built here, in Hogwarts."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Come on, you are not so thick," Nott laughed. "The name of Malfoy carries a lot more weight than that of Weasley. Even so, your family is still part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, hence one of us." Nott then laid back, eyes set on the little specks of blue which could be seen through the thicket. "I have never seen Malfoy acting in such a stupid way. Sure, he's never been a genius, but he's always had a very good mind for politics and pureblood life. However, this rivalry between the two of you is making him commit mistake after mistake…"

"Slowly but surely, you are casting him out, taking his place within Slytherin," Nott smirked. "I myself find that extremely amusing, yet also quite pathetic. To think that a blood-traitor like you could cause so much trouble to Draco, the heir to the Great House of Malfoy… Ah, if only you acted as a true pureblood, Weasley, instead of betraying your own kin, us the pure… Definitely, you could reach so high, Weasley…"

His nonsense sickened Ron. "There are very few things that infuriates me as much as all that crap about Blood Supremacy," he said, shaking his head in disgust. "How can you think like that? Damn it all, look at Tracey! She's a great person, even when you've all treated her like shit, and that includes her so-called friends, Blaise and Daphne… You splutter all that crap about being better just because your blood is purer, yet there she is, proving herself as one of the best students from our promotion."

"Yes…" Nott said calmly. "Tracey isn't so bad, now that I think about it. Even so, the only reason why she has stood out so far is because of you, due to your help… Let me tell you a story, Weasley." And for the first time, Nott stared at him dead in the eyes. "I was seven years old when my mother was killed. Well, she was executed, better said, beheaded in the middle of Diagon Alley in a day as nice and warm as the one we enjoy today."

Ron was left speechless after that, mostly because of the way Nott had uttered those words, so calm and collected.

"In case you are not aware of it, beheading is an ancient tradition of purebloods," Nott continued, as nonchalant as ever. "What's funny, my mother was a half-blood; quite ironic, isn't it? Most of the pureblood families try to keep their lineage as pure as possible, even to a point in which they marry those of their same flesh and blood. Still, my father, ever the ruthless man he is, fell in love with her… My mother was a much better person than him. Hell, my mother was a much better person than everyone else. It did not stop her murderer, though."

"Can you guess who could have killed her?" Nott asked then, to which Ron could do nothing but to shake his head in denial. "Of course, you would not! Hear me out, this is where the irony comes from. It was a muggle-born wizard who killed her, a man who fought for the Order of the Phoenix… Now, do you understand my point?"

"No…" Ron mused.

"It boils my blood when people such as you or your family defend muggle-borns and half-bloods as if they were saints," Nott hissed, his calm facade long gone. "Even more when you talk about us, those of the Blood, as if we were the worst filth to ever walk this planet… No, we are similar, but not the same… My father has always been a troubled man, you see, but he was getting better at it thanks to my mother. One day, as the proud and mighty lord James Nott was buying ice creams, the woman he loved was killed in cold blood. And that day, he did the unthinkable. Instead of going after that bastard, my father kneeled on the ground and cried, he cried as he held my mother's body in his arms…"

"And meanwhile, I observed it all," Nott continued, a tad calmer now. "Back then, the Great War was still fresh in everyone's memory. Hell, even the Aurors took their duty seriously. In fact, there was one of them on duty patrol that day, keeping an eye on Knockturn Alley. She saw it all, and pursued the murderer… Now, here comes the best part… It turned out that he, the murderer, declared in private, under the eyes of the Wizengamot. For any reason, he was granted a private audience, and for any reason, he was declared innocent and absolved from all accusations. It was due to lack of evidence, the Wizengamot stated… What a pitiful joke!"

With effort, Ron managed to find his words. "Why are you telling me this?" He was scared of Nott, that he knew. No stable person could go through so many changes of mood in so little time.

"To help you understand this a rotted world, from its very roots," Nott replied. "My father never had as much influence inside the Ministry as the likes of Malfoy and Yaxley do; not even close. He's a warrior, not a bloody arse-licker. And so, no justice was done to us. My point is, no matter one's birth and name, the strong do as they please; that day, it was a coward who was protected by the system. In the past, in the Ancient Times, that was us, those who belong to the Blood. In the present age, however, we are a minority, and although favoured by Magic and of far purer heritage, the weak and the unworthy outnumber us vastly, and so, they are moulding the world to the best of their interest. They are tarnishing Magic with their arrogance, ruining the efforts we, purebloods, did to honour it… It is unforgivable…"

Ron stood up, sickened. "I cannot believe what utter rubbish I just heard…"

"Oh, really?" Nott's eyes twinkled with a shady mirth. "I would have never said so… What a shame, still! And I thought that we could get on well with each other. After all, we are quite alike, Ronald Weasley…"

"Say what?"

"My mother was beheaded," Nott hummed, "but so were your uncles, Fabian and Gideon. Well, all in truth, they were also tortured first, but that is of no importance right now. Funny enough that, among all the first-years of Slytherin, we are the only ones to have a close relative murdered in such a way, eh? On my behalf, I have that bastard's face carved into my mind, and it will forever stay that way. Until I kill him, that's it. Such is the reason why I don't care about Hogwarts, nor about your stupid rivalry with Malfoy and those who support the Blood Supremacy. To me, this is all a waste of time. I have, after all, my mind set on one dream."

Nott stood up; on his face there was a shady smile which did not reach his eyes. "Say, don't you wanna follow my example?" the weedy boy hummed, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. "To avenge your uncles? I could help you achieve that, you know? As, it was my father who captured them, and also, who gave Fabian and Gideon Prewett their final blow. He was not there to see them tortured, of course. That is not the way of James Nott."

Ron stepped away from Nott, until his back crashed against the oak. There were many things he wanted to say at this moment, but none made it out of his mouth.

"Remember this conversation, Ronald," Nott said, turning around and walking away. "Do not judge others without knowing their background first. Here, there's people way worse than Malfoy, and you'll do good not angering them. You truly are a very interesting, and also, special wizard. You could contribute so much to the pureblood society, to make it far more prominent… Be careful of what path you take from now and onwards."

Then, he just left. Dear Merlin, he's lost his head. Ron stood there, far too shocked to do a thing but to, in vain, try gathering his thoughts. He finally took a seat under the oak's shadow, once more. There he waited as the sun crowned the sky, and then as it made its way down. He'd missed the Herbology lesson, but he didn't care about that. Supposedly, he was to stay in the medical wing.

Another reason why he did not fancy going back was to see the face of his so-called friends. Ron had really thought they were making progress, yet none of them but Tracey did a move an inch to defend him today. Not to defend their honour when insulted, and much less to save him from Crabbe's fists.

Because of that, he decided to have lunch alone, later than everyone else. It was just a way to postpone their encounter, that he knew, but it would do it for the time being. Ron finished his food, and found himself with the need to wait two hours for the next lecture, the first of the afternoon. In the end, he set off for the library. He didn't favour that idea much, but it was better than wasting his time. Besides, it would surely keep his mind busy, which he really needed after the conversation with Nott.

To say that time passed slowly would be an understatement. In the library, it seemed, seconds turned into minutes, and those turned into hours. Ron groaned for the hundredth time, closing his old book of Transfiguration. His eyes wandered around, finding many students in the same situation as his. Despite that, there was a certain someone who got his attention.

From one the tables at the far end of the library, Hermione Granger sent him a subtle look. It was a quick one, but Ron caught her in the act. She then lowered her head and proceeded to ignore him. Ron, however, set his gaze on the bushy-haired girl; his eyes opened in awe when she pulled out a dozen thick books from her bag. Dear Merlin… Her back must ache a lot!

She was a weird girl, that Hermione Granger. It almost seemed as if she had a problem with him, for every time they shared a lecture she tried her hardest to earn more House points than him. Even so, now that Ron thought about it, he also did that. Not only with her, but also with the Ravenclaws and those of his same House; people such as Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil were tough adversaries, yet none of them seemed to take it so personally.

Then, Ron made a decision.

The redhead stored all his things back into the bag, and then, he made his way over Hermione's. He dropped himself in the chair in front of her, so suddenly Granger seemed to leap out of her seat in surprise. "Ups, sorry about that," Ron mused. "It wasn't my intention to startle you."

If glares could kill… Well, he would already be dead. "What do you want?" Granger asked haughtily.

"I saw you here, all alone, and I reckoned there wouldn't be a better time to talk about what happened yesterday," Ron replied. "Say, how are you doing?"

"Please, do not talk about it," Granger frowned. "We could have been expelled! Are you aware of how close Filch was to catching us?"

Madam Pince shushed them from the other end of the library, and so, Ron lowered his voice even more. "Getting expelled? Nah, I didn't really think about it. I was a bit more worried about being eaten alive by that monster. Why the bloody hell do they need to have such a beast in a school? Honestly, have we gone mad?"

"It was guarding some trapdoor," Granger said, eyes set on her books yet again.

"Wait, what?" Ron spluttered. "How do you know that?"

"Well, I happened to look at its feet. I'm pretty sure that's something you can also do."

"Was that a joke?" Ron said with a smirk. Oh, he liked this version of hers way more! "You just taught me two things in less than five seconds! Have you ever considered becoming a teacher after graduating?"

Granger was quick to shut down his humour with a cold glare. Merlin, woman! I get it, you don't like my jokes! With a defeated sigh, Ron opened his Transfiguration book once more. It took him less than a minute to understand he was in no mood to study. "We could help each other, you know?" he said out of the blue. "I'm good at Transfiguration and Charms, but I really could use some help in Herbology and Astronomy…"

"And why should I help you?" Granger argued back. "We are enemies. Gryffindor and Slytherin are competing for the House Cup, and you are leading the race."

"Enemies?" Ron whistled with a raised brow. "That's a far too powerful word. Besides, I didn't take you for someone who worried so much about competition."

Granger finally met his gaze. "To be honest, I don't know if it's because I want Gryffindor to win, or because I want Slytherin to lose." Ron just rolled his eyes at that—of course, no one wanted Slytherin to win. "Hey, don't give me that look! You are nothing but vile abusers, even to those as kind as Neville Longbottom. I still remember what Malfoy did when Neville fell off his broom…"

"You ain't telling me nothing new," Ron snorted. "You think he's bad? Well, be thankful you don't have to spend the entire day with him. Hell, he sleeps in the room next to mine!"

"Does he have something to do with what happened to you this morning?" Granger asked a bit too quickly. "You know, that mess about the medical wing… Rumour has it that you two got into a fight. For the record, Malfoy looked extremely pissed off this morning."

"Sort off," Ron sighed. "Finally, he got on my nerves."

Granger's eyes perked at that, finally showing him something akin to kindness. However, out of nowhere came Blaise Zaibine to ruin all the progress he'd made with her. "Hello, Granger," the pureblood boy greeted her without much enthusiasm. "Can we talk for a moment, Ron? In private, please."

It seemed he would not be able to elude them for any longer. "If I don't have another choice…" Ron sighed as he stood up. "Well, goodbye it is, then. We should try studying together another day, Granger. Think about what I said, that we could help each other."

"Well, it doesn't sound so bad now that I think about it," the Gryffindor said, the hint of a smile on her face. "However, you must learn to be quieter. I don't want Madam Pince shushing me ever again."

Blaise and Ron shared a look at that, then he remembered he was angry at them. In silence, they made their way out of the library, spurred by the annoyed glare Pince sent in their direction. Blaise took him through some corridors, until they reached an abandoned classroom on the very same section. Ron got inside first, and there he discovered they were not alone.

Daphne raised her eyes when the two boys stepped into the classroom; she was seated atop of the table, and held herself quite proudly despite the apologetic smile she gave Ron. Tracey, however, had taken a seat in a chair near the window, eyes set on it despite how dirty it was.

"Ron!" Daphne sighed with evident relief. "Are you okay? You worried us a lot when you didn't attend Herbology!"

"Oh, really?" Ron replied, rolling his eyes to her words. "Thank you, really! Now, where was that worry when I was about to be beaten into a pulp by Crabbe, I wonder? Well, nevermind. As they say, better late than never, I guess!" These purebloods really took pride in their social skills, in their ease to read people like an open book. Just in case, Ron made it way easier for them. Even a child would have noticed how pissed off he felt.

"I knew this was coming," Blaised let out a deep sigh. "Listen, we are truly sorry, okay? I swear that I was about to hex Goyle after he kicked your wand away… I swear, but that Prefect beat me to it!"

"You caught us totally off guard, Ronald," Daphne cut in. "By any means did we expect you to hex Malfoy so out of the blue… Truth to be told, there has always been a lot of tension within our group, however, this was the first time a real fight happened. We were left completely stunned!"

"Had I warned you all before the fight," Ron started, "would you have helped me?"

"W-Well," Daphne spluttered, then she lowered her head. "No, I don't think so. I hate fighting, and I cannot take sides so soon… I am sorry."

"You were honest, at least," Ron sighed, ruffling his hair in exasperation. "I hate when people lie to me."

"I would have helped you," Blaise then said with a serious voice. "If you had told me beforehand, that's it. For the record, I have no love for Malfoy. He's just a git who used to make jokes about me and my mother when I was not there to defend myself. This being said, there's more to it." He shared a quick look with Daphne, who, in response, lowered her head even more as she raised her knees to embrace them. "Truth is, this wasn't the first time our group got into a fight."

Ron looked at the blond girl, who still refused to meet his eyes.

"We were paralyzed because the last time we got into a fight, things ended up horrible for us all," Blaise went on. "Back then, there was an American boy in our group. His name is Alexander Shawn, and he's the heir to a Great House. Actually, he's a friend of Daphne, arrogant and proud like any other heir, but very different to the likes of Malfoy and Nott. Anyhow, one day, we all got very heated up in an argument, and Theodore… Well, he's pretty unstable sometimes, more so when he's furious…"

Ron fully agreed to that.

"In case you don't know, Nott's father is a very renowned duellist," Blaise sighed, "and he's passed a few tricks down to his son. Even so, this other kid I mentioned, Shawn, is also quite adept at Martial Magic. The argument escalated pretty quickly, until it got out of control and people got hurt. Our parents were very disgusted with our behaviour, son improper and childish. Not because of it by itself, but because of the relationships we broke that day. So, when you snapped out of nowhere, well, both Daphne and I remembered that moment."

To be fair, Ron did not know what to say. Nott had freaked him out this very morning just with a few words. To see him in a fight could be pretty scary, to say the least. Still, they way Blaise had talked about their lives… It all sounded so adult-like for his taste; far too complex and serious matters, like those relationships they broke. Hell, weren't they supposed to be of his same age?

"I see," Ron said, at last. "Now that I think about it, you do have a point. I was very reckless this morning, but that's the way I am. I just reached my limit, and then I lost it."

"We understand you, Ronald," Daphne reassured him with a faint smile. "As our friend, we wronged you, and we wanted to apologise. Not because we felt like we owe it to you, which we do, but because we wanted to do it. What we did today was not honourable, however, you cannot expect others to just jump into your battles, more so because you were taunted."

"I know, I know," Ron sighed. "Daniel also told me that, multiple times. Even so, that's me, that's how I really am. For your sake, I really tried to ignore Malfoy, but he crossed the line today."

"Fortunately, I don't think you'll have to fight him anytime soon," Daphne added, way more cheerful now. "From what I've heard, Snape gave Malfoy a really harsh scolding this morning, when the Prefect took you four to the Professor's office. At lunch, he looked like a shadow of himself; head down and with no cruel remark at the tip of his tongue."

"Oh, great," Ron grunted. "I just remember that Snape wanted to talk with me, in private… Merlin, I am so dead!"

"I have an idea," Blaise said, ignoring his drama. "Let's just forget about what happened this morning and focus on making things better. It ain't the best idea, I know that, but it's a good point to start."

"It works for me," Daphne agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Ron eyed them for a moment, thinking about Blaise's proposal. Much to his surprise, he'd come to be fond of them in the little time they had spent together. Sure, there were plenty of differences between them, but still, they were good company… "Okay," he also nodded. "We've all acted foolishly one way or another, and we also know how each of us feel about it. We cannot just give up on this group so easily. From now on, we'll try to make things better."

"I agree," Blaise said.

"How about you, Tracey?" Daphne pipped in, her eyes set on the silent girl. "You've said nothing since we came here… Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Tracey smiled back, although it failed to brighten her face. "I'm just happy that we are sticking together… I'm very happy…"

Ron frowned at that, yet decided to not press about the matter. One could only stress himself about so many things a day, and it was long ago when he reached the limit. Then, they all formed a circle and pressed their hands together in the middle, as if forming a pact; it was quite a childish thing to do, he reckoned, but it felt appropriate.

After that, they left for the remaining lecture, which went rather smoothly, and had dinner in the Great Hall. There, Ron set his eyes on Malfoy many times, but the blond boy was not in the mood to meet his gaze. No, he just held his head low, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork again and again. Whatever had Snape told him, it had worked. Such a dreadful thought made him shiver. If Snape had gone so far with Malfoy, then, what would be of him, a Weasley?

"I just cannot wait for classes to get a bit more complex," Blaise said as they made their way back to the common room, pulling the redhead out of his stupor. "We've done almost no magic since we started. I know that we need to learn all the basics and the theory first, but, to me, I feel like we are losing so much time. That lecture of Transfiguration from the very first day still remains as the best one, even though I couldn't complete the task we were given. Also, Potions has been the only subject to entertain me."

"You only say that because you are the best of our promotion at Potions, Blaise," Daphne rolled her eyes to his words. "I've spent most of my free time doing those absurdly large essays our dear Professor requested from us. Even so, I agree with you. I wish we could practise magic way more often."

"I just wish we had a decent Professor for Defence," Ron lamented with a sigh. "To see my favourite subject in the hands of Quirrell… Merlin, it pains me."

Daphne was about to make a comment, an amused gleam in her blue eyes, however, a new voice beat her to it. "That's quite dramatic on your behalf, Ronald," Daniel Williams cut in from behind. The group came to a halt and turned around, just to find the Prefect leaning onto the wall with a smirk on his face. "There, there! Nicely done, you brats! Now, let's not waste much time here, okay? You three, off you go! Ronald, you stay here."

Daphne sent quite the icy look at Daniel, whose smirk became more prominent in response. "Come on, Greengrass, I'm not going to steal him for long," he laughed. "In fact, it ain't me who wants to steal him. I believe you have a certain business to sort out with Snape. He's waiting for you, Ronald, in his office. You do what you will, but I wouldn't make him wait, if I was in your place…"

Ron let out a deep sigh, ready to face such a monster yet also quite hopeless to survive this encounter.

"Do not worry too much about it, Ron," Daphne said softly, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze. "If it was so grave, Snape would have discussed the matter with you this very morning, as he did with Malfoy and his goons."

"Perhaps, but you are missing a little detail here," Blaise cut in, ever the nonchalant bastard. "Snape has a very good relationship with Draco's father…"

"You just had to say it, right?" Ron sent him an annoyed look, then he shook his head. "It is what it is, period. Well, see you guys back later. If I'm not expelled, that's it."

His walk to the office was a silent one; one far too short to his liking. There he stood once again, in front of that door of dark wood. With a sigh, he knocked, and the door suddenly opened for him.

Inside waited Professor Snape, seated on his chair, hands under his chin and wearing the most perfect frown ever. Despite that, his eyes were devoid of any emotion. Ron almost pissed his pants at such a sight.

"Take a seat, Weasley," the young wizard said with a cold voice. It wasn't a request, that was evident. "If I remember correctly, I did warn you about the fact fights within our House are prohibited. Not only did you ignore me, but you four, a bunch of fools all, managed to hurt each other. In all my years as a docent, this is the first time such a thing has happened."

Ron's armpits sweat uncontrollably by now. Had he been on his feet, he would have thrown himself into the floor to beg for mercy. However, he managed to control himself just in time, barely able to hold the Professor's gaze..

Suddenly, Snape stood up, walking towards a steaming cauldron at the far end of his large office. There, he grabbed a long paddle and stirred its content. "Are you aware of the fact that I've always had an excellent relationship with Draco's family?" he asked, eyes set on the cauldron.

"Yes, Sir," the redhead mused back.

"It was long ago when Lucius Malfoy took me under his wing, perhaps in hopes that, one day, I would do the same with his son," Snape said coldly. "However, here in Hogwarts, Draco is just another student. To me, one's name does not matter. Talent does, Weasley. I only favour those of sharp mind and tough spirit, those whose merits and efforts speak for themselves." He tilted his head a bit. "Now, pass me one jar of salamander's blood."

What? Salamander's blood? Ron's eyes scanned all the jars which contained liquid inside them, which was no short feat given the amount of them. Fortunately, only one was of an orange shade. He took it with a trembling hand, the warmth from inside almost a bother, and delivered it to Snape as fast as he could.

"Tell me the properties of this substance," Snape ordered as he emptied the jar in one go. A faint cloud of smoke rose from the cauldron, accompanied by a weak hiss and a smell akin to that of rotten eggs.

Oh, come on! Wait, I should know this… Percy mentioned them once or twice last year… "Well, ehm, I believe it's mainly used because of… Because of its healing and rejuvenating properties? Perhaps?"

"I'm brewing this potion for a second-year lecture," Snape went on. "Which one do you reckon it is?"

Second year… Salamander's blood… Think, you bloody idiot! "Maybe… Can it be the Fire-Protection Potion, Sir?"

To that, Snape said nothing, eyes set on the cauldron.

"You are one of the main reasons we are ahead in the race for the House Cup, Weasley," the Professor finally said, voice not so cold anymore. "So far, you have proven to me that you are no dunderhead, unlike the vast majority of your promotion. Each year, I find myself resigned to the fact that I will be teaching yet another bunch of incompetent idiots. Potion's brewing is an art, a very complex and beautiful one, and it was not made for the brainless. No, they just cannot respect it, much less understand its beauty."

Finally, he turned around. "Surely, you've heard that I tend to favour a few students over the rest, which is completely true. All I respect in this life is talent and results, and also, those with enough ambition to give their best. Do not make me put you in the idiot's list, Weasley. Take this talk as a final warning. Now, if you ever repeat the mistakes you committed today… Trust me, you do not want to be on my bad side."

Ron shivered at the dark look Snape gave him, yet nodded nonetheless. "Yes, Sir! It will not happen again. That's a promise."

Snape gave the student a curt nod, walking back to his table. "Oh, before you go back to the common room, there is another matter yet to discuss," he said. "As you know very well, I'm the Head of Slytherin, therefore, I'm in charge of all its students. Today, the Headmaster came to me with a letter from your parents. It seems they want to talk with you, here at Hogwarts."

A heavy weight fell over Ron's shoulders just then. "Yeah," he sighed, "that sounds like something they would do…"

Snape dismissed him with a waive of his hand. "Remember my words, Weasley. Draco will bother you no more, so, you have no excuses now."

Ron walked out of the office with a quick stride, as tired as he'd ever been. As of that moment, nothing could stop the boy from throwing himself into his bed. Merlin, what a day! And to think I have yet to face mum and dad… Once I do that, I'll finally be on terms with everybody… I just hope they are as understanding as the twins were…