Hi everyone. Time for Quidditch. And since this is Ron's first game, who better than him to tell it.
RON XXI
Ron woke up quite soon on the morning of his first Quidditch match against Slytherin. The sun had not even appeared outside. Almost instantly, realizing what was going to happen today, he felt the need to vomit, but managed to hold back. He didn't want others to see him spewing. He tried to fall back into sleep, without success. He ended up sitting on his bed, bringing his legs against his chin.
Ron had dreamed of this day, of the day he would play for Gryffindor. He had tried to join the Hogwarts team last year, during the exhibition game against Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but failed. He trained for the entire first week of school in September in the hope that he would get chosen as the Keeper of the team. He played as hard as he could during the tryouts. And against all odds, unexpectedly, he was chosen, earning the congratulations of everybody. But ever since his selection, doubts had grown in his mind.
There were whispers around, and although some might think that Ron didn't hear them, they reached his ears. Some murmured that Ron was selected only because three of his brothers were or had been part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and that his best friend was the Seeker of the team. They attributed his selection to favoritism. Other rumors claimed that other candidates were better than him. Even if Ron had been ready to reject rumours of favoritism, if only because Fred and George always joked about how they tried to deny their family ties with him for years, he indeed remembered how a few candidates performed better than him during the tryouts. And the training sessions that followed only reinforced this impression.
They had practiced with the teams of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for the best part of September and October. Ron found it odd to train along with people who would be their opponents throughout the year. He knew that the three teams had done it for almost three years now, but it first started at the end of the season two years ago, when Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw both wanted to see Slytherin defeated so much that they helped Gryffindor when the only remaining match was between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Then the Triwizard Tournament came, and the teams trained for fun together during two months before the champions were selected. But this year… Ron knew that Cedric was dead, and that a single common practice might honor him, but for two months? When they all knew they would be playing against each other? He found it too much. He spoke about it to Fred and George, and they thought mostly the same. Angelina did as well, and she purposefully asked them to hide their best movements and tactics from the other two teams during their practices, instead having them secretly practice without the other teams. But when Ron broached the subject with Harry, his best friend mostly shrugged and said he didn't care if Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws knew about their tactics. Ron suspected there might be two reasons for this. First was Cedric Diggory's death. Harry had been deeply affected by this. Ron could understand, but he thought Harry might try to honor the guy's name through other means than revealing their strategies to other teams. Second was the presence of Cho Chang at the common practices. Ron often saw her and Harry fly and speak together during practices. And he felt that there was something between the two of them. Maybe Harry didn't want to give up on these practices because that gave him a reason to see Ravenclaw's Seeker without getting his girlfriend suspicious.
But the most Ron got from these common practices was the distinct impression that other Keepers were way better than he was. He couldn't keep the Quaffle from entering the rings. He was never positioned well enough, and repeatedly failed to remember the instructions Angelina gave him. He was afraid to have revealed to other teams how unprepared and unexperienced the Keeper of Gryffindor was. Harry encouraged him, but he didn't feel like he deserved those encouragements. And as the first game approached and the mockeries became more open in the corridors, especially coming from Slytherins, he felt more and more uncertain, and felt that his play turned even worse, until this very morning before the match when he was now convinced that he made a mistake by attending tryouts.
"You're all right?" Harry asked him. He must have just woken up. But Ron kept looking in front of his bed, trying to stop himself from retching as he felt every part of his body getting tenser. If Harry was awake, then it wouldn't be long before the match started.
They went to the Great Hall together. Ron wasn't hungry, and he focused on absolutely not vomiting, his stress increasing with each step he made. He was barely conscious of his surroundings as he walked into the Great Hall. He heard what sounded like applauses around him but didn't really care. All he wanted was to reach the pitch without retching. Or go back to bed and hide under his covers, pretending to be sick so someone else would replace him today.
He sat down with Harry at an undetermined place in the Gryffindor table. He looked at the food spread on the table, which made him almost sick.
"I must have been mental to do this," Ron muttered between two breaths. "Mental!"
"Don't be thick," Harry said. "You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous." He put a bowl of cereals in front of Ron as he spoke.
That was easy to say. Harry was good at Quidditch. Ron wasn't. He looked at the cereals in front of him. It only increased his envy to vomit, and he struggled to not do so.
"I'm rubbish. I'm lousy," Ron said. Somehow, it made him feel a little better on the moment to get those words out. "I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"
"Get a grip," Harry retorted. "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day. Even Fred and George said it was brilliant."
Harry didn't know how this made Ron feel even more miserable. It was when he kicked the Quaffle so hard that he got it straight into Angelina's hands who was right in front of the goalposts during a practice match against Ravenclaw. Angelina hit it with her fist, getting it right into the central ring, but people congratulated Ron for such a pass.
"That was an accident," Ron admitted. He hid it from others because the congratulations felt too good, but the truth was very different from what they saw. "I was just trying to intercept the Quaffle from getting into my goalposts and swung my arms wildly. I didn't know what I was doing. I lost my balance and my foot ended up kicking the ball by accident. I wasn't even targeting Angelina or the other goalposts."
"Well, we all need some luck during a game. You got lucky. You only need to keep lucky."
This wasn't to make Ron feel any better. He looked at his bowl of cereals, wondering if it would be a nice place to hide. He heard people sitting next to him.
"How are you feeling?" his sister asked him. He didn't answer. He should tell her that she should be Keeper, not him. She would be better than he was. She managed to almost become regular Chaser, after all.
"He's just nervous," Harry replied for him. This was a mild term to describe his state.
"Well, that's a good sign," Hermione's voice added. She must have arrived with Ginny. "I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous."
This wasn't helping Ron, but he didn't feel like telling Hermione.
Luna Lovegood then appeared out of nowhere with a very odd and strange Gryffindor hat that even Ron couldn't ignore. But when she was gone, Angelina showed up and ordered them all to head for the Quidditch pitch. Ron regretted Luna left, somewhat to his own surprise. She provided a temporary reprieve to his ordeal by taking his mind out of the upcoming game. Now he was back to square one, and although Harry encouraged him, he couldn't swallow anything. Harry finally decided for themselves that they should go to the changing rooms. Hermione then stood up and hugged Harry, then she kissed Ron on the cheek.
"Good luck, Ron. And you, Harry."
The kiss Hermione gave him somewhat brought him back to reality. He rubbed the place where she kissed him, and shook his head, somehow realizing there were other people around as he made it out of the Great Hall with Harry. On their way, Ron noticed badges adorned with a crown on all Slytherins, but didn't get time to see what was written on it. He had the distinct impression that Harry hurried them on.
As they made their way to the pitch, Harry talked about the weather. "It's a little cold. But I've seen worse. Clouds everywhere, but they're all white, so no danger of rain. And they block the sun, so visibility will be good. We won't have the sun blinding us."
Ron barely listened to him. He guessed these were good news. Though the weather conditions would also help the Slytherins play better. A part of Ron wished it would have been harder for them to target his goalposts. Another part of him was still recovering from the kiss Hermione gave him on the cheek.
"Ron, you're dressing your robes in the wrong direction," Alicia said.
Indeed, after he and Harry arrived in the changing rooms, Ron kept trying to put on his robes, not knowing why he struggled with them. He then realized that what Alicia said was true and reluctantly let her help. How a good sign that was for today. He wasn't even able to dress properly.
At least, there were fewer people than usual in the changing rooms, and all of them were Ron's teammates. Not like for practices, when he was surrounded by players of other teams, and who were many more than currently. But this small consolation quickly dissipated as he heard the crowd arriving over their heads. The perspective of playing in front of hundreds of people terrorized him.
"Okay, everyone. Just to remind you, in case you have forgotten, this time, we're not playing a practice or exhibition game against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw," Angelina declared. "It's against Slytherin. So we must all give our maximum. Useless to say, this match is going to have a great impact on the results at the end of the season. We cannot allow ourselves to lose it."
Angelina was very talented at increasing pressure on them.
"As you know, the Slytherin team has changed since the last time we faced them two years ago, but not that much. Flint may be gone, but Montague is about the same style as this troll." This earned a few snickers that even Ron joined. "But this is no reason to joke. Pucey, Malfoy and Bletchley are still here. And maybe they are not extraordinary, but they managed to find a new Chaser who is quite good, from what I've been told. Warrington. And he seems to have some brain, this one."
"Montague probably chose him to compensate his own lack of grey matter," Fred commented.
"And don't forget that that Lucius Malfoy renewed their broomsticks. Again. Seven new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones."
"It's alright. We learned to face them," Alicia said.
"Maybe, but they're brand new. So they will be performing. Though I'm still a little surprised, and relieved, that he didn't buy a fleet of Firebolts."
"Maybe they were too costly even for Lucius Malfoy," George suggested. "There are things money can't buy."
"Especially when the president of the corporation that produces Firebolts lost his wife because Voldemort killed her," Harry added.
The mention of Voldemort's name caused a cold wave to spread through the room. Even Angelina needed some time to recover her mind.
"Okay, last detail. I've only just found out the final line-up. Derrick and Bole have left, and we didn't know who would replace them, but it seems like Montague chose the usual gorillas, rather than someone who at least knows how to fly. Two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle. I don't know much about them…"
"We do," Ron and Harry said as a chorus.
"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of the broom from the other. But personally, I was always surprised Derrick and Bole could find their way to the pitch without signposts, and those two don't seem any more brilliant."
Ron and Harry exchanged a gaze, silently agreeing with Angelina. She then looked at her watch.
"It's time. Come on, everyone. Good luck," she said.
They followed Angelina in line, Ron taking the last place in it. Harry was ahead of him.
"What did you mean about the president of the Firebolts?" Ron asked him, curious.
"The truth. His wife was killed by Voldemort during the last war." Ron grimaced at the name. "Even if Malfoy offered him all the gold in the world, I doubt he would have given him even a single Firebolt. Anyway, they are only produced in small quantities, and so costly that there is no sale price. The team of Ireland needed hundreds of sponsors and the financial support of the Ministry of Magic to buy their own. It's Susan who told me. Her father worked to develop the broom."
"Oh, yeah." Now Ron remembered.
"Enough with small talk behind," Angelina said. "Let's focus on the game. The doors are about to open."
Ron cursed Angelina a moment later, as his discussion with Harry distracted him. But now, all that accompanied the general silence were the feet of all the people above their heads who took place on the seats surrounding the pitch. He felt his stomach doing a terrible noise, and he was sure this wasn't because he had no breakfast this morning.
The doors opened on the white clouds and the cold air, and Ron heard the voice of Lee Jordan.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Lee Jordan. Welcome to Hogwarts' first Quidditch game of this season. Today, with a tradition only broken by those last two years, Slytherin against Gryffindor for the first game."
The crowd cheered.
"Now let's welcome the Gryffindor Quidditch team, champions in title of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. The new captain of the team, Angelina Johnson."
Angelina flew up on Lee's announcements under applauses.
"Along with her teammates, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, as Chasers. Fred and George Weasley as Beaters, along with their little brother, the newest addition to the Gryffindor team, the new Keeper, Ronald Weasley."
Ron expected him to be named last. He almost stumbled while trying to get past Harry who had to push him so he flew forward. Ron almost fell from his broomstick when he mounted it, and really thought his heart would stop when he finally flew up under cheers.
He trembled. Maybe because of the cold. Maybe because he was afraid like hell. He didn't hear Lee announcing Harry, nor the Slytherin team. He kept looking at his hands on the handle of his broom, terrified that he might let it go. He looked so strong at it that he missed hitting a tower twice. After a certain time, he heard Harry screaming at him.
"Ron, you must take position at your goalposts. The match is beginning."
Realizing that indeed all other players were taking their positions, Ron rushed towards the goalposts… before realizing he was heading for those of Slytherin and changing direction. He had the impression to hear laughter directed at him among the cheers of the crowd. Once in front of the goalposts, he checked that he was really guarding the one in the center. Then he stared at the center of the pitch, seeing Angelina and Montague shaking hands. Ron wondered if Montague tried to crush Angelina's fingers, like Flint did so often with Wood. How much he wished that Wood was the one defending the goalposts right now.
"LET THE GAME BEGIN!"
Ron realized too late that the game had started with Lee's scream. Lucky for him, Angelina got the Quaffle first. He made a sigh of relief. He then prayed so that she wouldn't lose it, so focused on this wish that he didn't laugh when Lee commented that Angelina never wanted to date him. Sadly enough, in the meantime, Crabbe, despite his stupidity, managed to make Angelina lose the red ball as she was approaching Slytherin's goalposts. Montague recovered the Quaffle and headed for Ron, who gripped his brand new Cleansweep tightly. His first test was coming. He was relieved when George scored a nice hit on Montague, getting Katie to catch the Quaffle. Katie sent it to Alicia then, who dodged both Warrington and a Bludger, heading for the Slytherin goalposts.
"Close call, Alicia!" Lee shouted, enthused. "And the crowd are loving this. Just listen to them. What's that they're singing?"
Lee stopped commenting, and for the first time, Ron heard what was being sung.
Weasley cannot have a thing
He cannot block a single ring
That's why Slytherins all sing
Weasley is our King
It was as if a heavy rock fell deep down his stomach. He looked towards the section where the Slytherins had gathered in the crowd. Their badges were shining. Ron couldn't believe it. These badges were for him?
"SHE SHOOTS! SHE…aaaahhh…"
The crowd shared Lee's discouragement, and Ron realized that Angelina had failed to score against Bletchley. He cursed as he saw the Keeper send the Quaffle to Warrington. Ron panicked. According to Angelina, this one was quite good. And he managed to get through both Alicia and Katie. He then expertly avoided Bludgers both Fred and George sent towards him. All that while the Slytherins kept singing.
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King
Warrington was getting closer and closer. There was nothing standing between him and Ron. He felt his heart pounding loudly and quickly. He thought he perceived some comment from Lee, but it was drowned by this song.
Weasley is our King
Weasley is our King
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King
He verified if he was still at the center of the central ring. He wasn't. He thought he drifted to the left and below. He quickly moved to reposition himself, but too fast and he was again wrongly positioned.
Weasley cannot save a thing
He cannot block a single ring
He looked forward. Warrington was right in front of him. And he shot. Ron flew up in distress, waving his arms desperately to stop the Quaffle. And he failed.
He never realized how high the cling of the goalposts truly resonated when you were right next to them. But it didn't hurt as much as the screams of delight from the Slytherins. Ron made a movement to curse what just happened, almost hitting his head with the extremity of his own Cleansweep in the process. And he heard the song louder.
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King
The song went on, and on, and on. Soon, Ron couldn't hear anything else coming from the crowd. He had hoped that Angelina or any of the other girls could score to compensate his mistake, But Katie couldn't manage to keep the Quaffle for herself. Warrington took it from her, then gave it to Pucey. Katie managed to get it back thanks to a Bludger from Fred, but she lost it once more. This time, it was against Montague that Ron found himself.
He tried to tell himself he could do it. Montague wasn't as good as Warrington, after all. But again, all he could hear was the loud song of the Slytherins.
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Montague shot. Ron tried to stop it, but the Quaffle was too far. He tried to intercept it, and hoped that Montague shot it completely off course. After all, it was really too far from where Ron was. But the cling betrayed the points he just made. Ron then realized he drifted to the left goalpost, leaving the right one completely open. He closed his eyes, not believing he made such a mistake again.
"RON! STAY ON THE CENTRAL RING!" Angelina screamed at him.
He sent back the Quaffle to her.
He couldn't do it. No. He should have known. He couldn't do it. They should have a call-out and put another Keeper at his place. But how could he tell that to Angelina in the middle of a game? Next time, it was Pucey who headed towards Ron, after both Alicia and Katie failed to score. Ron tried to prepare this time. But the song kept distracting him.
Weasley is our King
Weasley is our King
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King
"OH! SHUT UP!" he screamed at the crowd. Pucey was closing in. He raised his hand, the Quaffle ready to go…
Maybe some power watched over Ron in this instant, for a Bludger hit Pucey in the back right as he was about to shoot. The Quaffle left his hands towards the goalposts, but missed the rings completely. Ron pushed a sigh of relief.
"RON! THE CENTRAL RING!" Angelina boomed while recovering the Quaffle.
Ron realized he once again drifted to the left ring and repositioned himself. Discouraged, he thought about how he needed to be lucky for someone to miss scoring.
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King
Alicia made a first, then a second, then a third attempt to score, each one ending in failure as Bletchley seemed to be playing the game of his life. Each stop he realized only made Ron feel even more miserable.
Weasley cannot have a thing
He cannot block a single ring
Warrington seized the Quaffle and headed towards Ron. He then hit the red ball with the tail of his broomstick while only at half the pitch. Ron was caught by surprise.
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King
In desperation, he flew towards where the Quaffle seemed to be heading… but Angelina intercepted it before the ball reached the rings. She looked at Ron as she flew back towards Slytherin's rings, and Ron was certain that she looked at him in anger and disdain. No wonder. Ron was really pitiful. He only had one wish, for this match to end.
Weasley is our King
Weasley is our King
A pass between Alicia and Katie was intercepted, and once again, Warrington rushed towards Ron. Once again, he hit the Quaffle with the tail of his broom. Ron rushed to stop it. This time, Angelina wasn't there. And Ron let it through the right ring. It was now 30-0 for Slytherin, and Ron didn't stop a single shot.
That's why Slytherins all sing
Weasley is our King
Ron couldn't hear anything else but this song. He only hoped now that Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred and George could stop the Slytherins from getting near the goalposts he couldn't protect. But they failed, and Ron found himself trying to stop a Quaffle hit by Pucey's fist on a pass from Warrington. Ron desperately tried to block it, and miserably failed once more, the red ball brushing his fingers before getting through.
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King
The Slytherins were right. Ron could only stare at the evidence as he let every Quaffle through, while Gryffindor couldn't score a single time. Finally, though, Angelina received the Quaffle from Katie Bell and managed to make her way to Bletchley. But when the cling resonated, Ron didn't feel like joining the cheers. He barely heard them, for the song was loud enough to still be heard.
Weasley cannot have a thing
He cannot block a single ring
That's why Slytherins all sing
Weasley is our King
And now Slytherin was on the offensive again. Bletchley had given the Quaffle to Pucey, who made a pass to Warrington. The Chasers of the other team exchanged the red ball until, to Ron's relief, Angelina intercepted it. She and Katie tried to mount an attack, but a Bludger from Goyle hit Katie and Pucey got the Quaffle back. He didn't keep it for long, as it was recovered by Angelina, who made it to the goalposts, but lost to Montague at the last minute. Montague rushed towards Ron, avoiding Gryffindor's Chasers. He was approaching. He was approaching fast.
For an unknown reason, maybe because suddenly, the crowd roared and the lyrics of the song were muffled, Ron prepared. He made to adjust his flying position and height, positioned himself in front of the central ring, and waited. He had to stop this one. He had to stop it. He stared right at Montague. He was going to stop him.
Then, out of nowhere, Fred and George appeared in front of him… exchanging a Bludger from one to the other with their bats, right in front of Ron. He had seen his brothers perform this feat on several occasions. But it had always been from the crowd, or a few times during practice. To see it from so close, in the middle of a match… Ron thought he never truly realized how difficult it was. Montague was as surprised as Ron was, judging by his expression. He swerved, then stopped, then tried to approach the goalposts from another angle to avoid Fred, George and the Bludger. But he couldn't avoid Katie who appeared right behind him and hit the Quaffle under his arm with her fist, sending it… towards Ron.
"Take it, Ron."
Ron reacted in panic. He had been stunned by Fred and George's sudden appearance with their Bludger. So he wasn't prepared for a move the team practiced on several occasions, when Chasers needed the Keeper to receive a Quaffle from them so the team could start a new offensive. He did it so many times, and since this was a pass, he never had any problem. But caught by surprise like he was, he juggled with the Quaffle, and it slipped from his hands towards… the central ring.
CLING!
This was the worst sound of score that Ron ever heard. Even worse than the song the Slytherins kept singing. Ron had scored into his own goalpost.
"IT'S OVER! IT'S OVER!"
Yes, Lee was right. This was really over. Ron made the worst thing ever by scoring against his own team. A Keeper from the Chuddley Cannons made the mistake when he was a kid, and he received so many death threats that he had to leave the team. Even for a team so horrible as Chuddley, this was unforgivable. And now Ron had done it while being the Keeper for the champions of the previous Quidditch Cup in their most important game of the season. The crowd was screaming at him because of his blunder.
"IT'S OVER! HARRY POTTER CAUGHT THE SNITCH!"
Ron thought he misheard. But then he looked at the pitch, and spotted Harry near the ground, his right fist held high.
"ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR! FINAL SCORE. GRYFFINDOR: 160. SLYTHERIN: 50."
So they won? The game was over? This was really over? Ron was about to feel a wave of relief and happiness wash over his mind when he held his breath, like the rest of the crowd, when Harry received a Bludger right in his back, throwing off his broom.
Immediately, the whole team flew down. But Ron was too stunned by what he just witnessed. He didn't move. He was soon reassured when Angelina landed next to Harry and helped him on his feet. His best friend was alright, and the crowd cheered.
All players landed on the pitch, while Madam Hooch yelled at Crabbe. Ron guessed that Malfoy's thug sent a Bludger on Harry when he saw he had caught the Snitch. Ron made to join the rest of the team as they all approached Harry. But he changed his mind when he saw how everyone was tapping his back, congratulating him.
Ron realized that he didn't have his place with them. He let five goals for four attempts at scoring. He couldn't stop a single shot. Worse, he scored into his own goalposts. No one looked at him. All, players, the crowd, they focused on Harry. He was the one who made them win. Ron had only been a nuisance.
Feeling more miserable than ever, Ron slowly hovered down, letting his broomstick and gravity bring him back to the ground, until his feet came into contact with it. He dismounted his broom, the brand new Cleansweep his mother bought him when she learned he was Prefect. He didn't even get it because he was good at Quidditch. He got it because Dumbledore didn't want to burden Harry with additional responsibilities, so he unloaded them on Ron. Miserable, furious, against the world and against himself, Ron went to the changing rooms. He left his Cleansweep there, with other brooms, and walked out into the park as others celebrated Gryffindor's victory.
Ron wandered around the grounds of the castle, crunching the frozen grass under his feet. He didn't care to change his robes. And he didn't care anyway. Maybe the others would notice his absence. But why would they? Even if they did, what would they do if he joined the celebrations? A party was surely already being prepared in the Gryffindor common room, but Ron, with his presence, would only remind everyone of the worst part of the game, the only one that was horrible and sullied their victory on Slytherin.
Everyone played well. Angelina, Alicia and Katie did all they could to score. They only had one because the match was short and Bletchley played the game of his life. Fred and George were as spectacular as always. As for Harry, he had been fantastic like always. He was the best Seeker of the school, maybe in the entire century. Better than his brother Charlie. It was Fred and George who told him. As for Ron… Not only he didn't stop a single shot, he failed to help his teammates in any way. Even the most basic techniques and tactics they practiced, he failed to apply them. Angelina was right to shout at him and to look at him in disgust through the match. He was horrible. Everything he did during the match caused trouble to his team. The Slytherins were right in their song. He was their king. The only reason why these morons had any chance of winning today was Ron, and he gave them that chance on a silver platter.
Ron couldn't believe that he thought, even for a single second, that he could actually play on Gryffindor's Quidditch team, join his brothers Charlie, Fred and George as players who made his family proud. What did he think? That a brand new Cleansweep made him a good Keeper? Ron had always marvelled, and he had also been jealous of Harry for his brooms, first the Nimbus Two Thousand, then the Firebolt. Ron was impressed to see him fly. But now he realized that he had forgotten that it wasn't the broomstick that made Harry a great player. It was also Harry who made his brooms great. He had a natural talent to play from the very first time he took flight in their first year. Ron had no such talent. He wasn't natural at flying, no more than Malfoy. Why did he think that training a single week would make him a good candidate for the position of Keeper?
Why didn't his friends tell him he was being stupid? Why were both Harry and Hermione enthused when he told them he was wanted to become Keeper? Why did Angelina choose him for the position? There were better candidates than him. Just like for being Prefect. Ron was chosen because Harry was not available. Why couldn't people be honest with him from the very start, instead of giving him hope only so he could see it being crushed the moment he tried to fill shoes that were far too big for him.
Ron spent some time, he wasn't really sure, wandering the park, mulling dark thoughts on his failure to be not only a great Quidditch player and an exemplary Prefect, but also to be even a decent player or Prefect. Or even a good enough student. Or even a good boyfriend.
It began to snow eventually as he wandered around. This reminded him of the Yule Ball last year. And also of the second task, as he walked near the Black Lake. Ron had been miserable during the Yule Ball. Seeing Hermione dance with Krum and having fun with him was… humiliating. And not even his best friend was there to support him. No, instead, to Ron's ignorance, Harry was spending the time of his life with the girl who would eventually become his girlfriend. In the meantime, Ron was brooding in his corner, listening to boring monologues from Percy after his own date abandoned him for a French guy. The only moment of the evening that had been a little better was when Hannah literally dragged him on the dance floor with her. And even then, he didn't remain with her for long.
Ron thought about his relationship with Hannah. Even there, he failed. Hermione started seeing Krum first, and then it was Harry with Susan, after he first dated Parvati. Ron, on his side, invited Hannah on a date to Hogsmeade on an impulse. He had a relatively good time dancing with her at the Yule Ball, and they both waited anxiously for their best friends to return from the Black Lake during the second task. But he only remained with her for a few weeks, and he ended things with her in quite a sorry manner. Truth be told, Ron felt horrible for this. Hannah might have gotten on his nerves, but she didn't deserve such a break-up. Not to mention Ron was again the talk of the school for the wrong reasons after that. And now here they were, many months later. Hermione was the best student of the school, the best Prefect in school (a badge she earned and deserved), and although she and Viktor Krum were separated by thousands of kilometers, they remained regular correspondents. She was well on her way to become Head Girl. Ron knew she would be one day. As for Harry, he was the best Seeker of the school and maybe even in its history, the victor of the Triwizard Tournament, survivor to multiple confrontations with You-Know-Who, the guy who was supposed to have been named Prefect this year, and in a relationship that would have already lasted an entire year and survived a Dementor's attack in January. Ron was the substitute Keeper chosen for his brothers and lack of a better option, and the substitute Prefect who got loads of work he never wanted and never asked for. He was really pitiful.
Eventually, he went back inside. It was beginning to get dark, and even in his numb state, he began to feel very cold. Slowly, without giving attention to anything around him, he climbed stairs up to the Gryffindor Tower. He muttered the password once he arrived in front of the Fat Lady.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia."
"If you want me to let you in, you'll need to speak clearly and loudly," the Fat Lady retorted.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," he repeated on a boring, barely louder tone.
"I still can't hear you." Even portraits found him ridiculous.
"MIMBULUS MIMBLETONIA!" he shouted in the end, fed up.
"No need to scream," the lady replied, offended.
The portrait opened nonetheless. Inside, Ron found a party that was well on its way. He noticed some people turning their heads towards him when the portrait opened, but they diverted their attention away almost immediately. He couldn't blame them. Ron himself wouldn't want to see his own reflection in the mirror right now. He made it through the crowd, ignoring Fred and George juggling with Butterbeers, to the dormitory of his year, and closed the door behind him. He let himself fall on his bed, sitting, looking ahead at the wall, as if there was something interesting on it.
But it wasn't long before the door of the dormitory opened. Hermione walked in, ignoring, not for the first time, that these were boys' dormitories. Harry followed her inside.
"Ron, are you all right?" she asked. "Where have you been?"
"Walking," he muttered.
Hermione touched his forehead. Ron shivered at the feeling of her hand on his skin. "You are frozen. Come and sit down near a fire."
"No." Ron removed his hand from Hermione's who tried to drag him. "I don't want to spoil the party."
"Rone, come on…" Harry started.
"You saw the way people looked at me when I walked in? They're ashamed of me, and that's when they're not angry at me. And why wouldn't they be? I almost made the team lost."
"We won by one hundred and ten points, Ron. You were nowhere near to make us lose."
"Only because you caught the Snitch early. I couldn't stop a single shot. I even scored into our own posts. Have you ever seen a Keeper scoring against his own team on his first match?"
Both were silent. Hermione broke it. "Ron, this was only your first match. You'll get better with time. This is not surprising that you had some difficulties…"
"Some difficulties?" Ron snorted loudly. "I couldn't stop a single shot! Not even one! And I scored against my own team!"
"It was an accident. You didn't mean to do that. This will not happen at each game."
As always, Hermione was very good at making him feel better. "No, it will not. Because this is going to be my last game."
"What do you mean?" both Harry and Hermione asked together.
"I'm going to resign. Not tonight. I don't want to spoil the party. I'll do it first thing in the morning."
"No, Ron. You can't do that!" Hermione said. Ron was surprised she reacted this way. She should be happy. He would have more time for his Prefect duties and his homework. Didn't she blame him for focusing too much on Quidditch since the year began?
"No, you can't," Harry said. "And anyway, Angelina will refuse to let you leave."
"You think?" Ron scoffed. "After my performance today, she will rejoice. Like everyone in Gryffindor." It would be another victory, with the one they had today despite Ron's blunders.
"No, she will not," Harry retorted. "And no one will be happy if you leave. I already talked with her. She said that she's not letting you go."
Ron looked at Harry in utter surprise. "She said that?" Whether Harry misheard her, or it was Ron who misheard Harry.
"Yes, she did," Hermione confirmed. "I was there. She says that she's doing the season with you or not at all." She sighed. "Look, this was only your first game. Do you know what happened to Wood on his first match? He got knocked out by a Bludger after only two minutes. Two minutes! You really think you are the first and only player in history to have a horrible first game? Well, let me tell you something, Ronald Weasley, you're not!"
Ron was stunned at her hard tone. Harry stepped in then.
"Look, Ron. It is only a game. And we won it. That's what matters. You have months to prepare for the next one. And we will not be playing against Slytherin this time. You will not have to deal with them singing this stupid song. It didn't help you."
True. Whenever Ron tried to do something, this song had come back to disturb him. "That song really wound me up."
"It would wound anyone up."
"Yes. This wasn't your game, Ron. That's all." Hermione was so convincing that Ron nearly believed her. Or at the very least, he wanted to believe her. "And really…" Ron recognized the anger hiding behind her voice at this time. "The way you left after the game was over… It was childish! You didn't stay. You left like a coward."
"I'm not a coward!" he protested. "But I didn't want to be with people who obviously didn't want me around."
"That's ridiculous. They needed you on the pitch at this moment. And you just walked away when Harry and your brothers needed you the most."
"I don't think you needed me," Ron said. "Okay, Harry. You got a Bludger from Crabbe, I know, but I saw you were alright and already celebrating with all the others. I didn't want to spoil your fun, so I left."
Something strange happened then. Both Harry and Hermione exchanged quizzical looks.
"You didn't see what happened after that?" Harry asked him.
"What happened?" Ron asked, between curiosity and indifference, not feeling like whatever happened as the Gryffindors headed for the party to be worth his interest, given he didn't contribute to victory.
Harry, strangely, looked… embarrassed, all of a sudden. Ron frowned at this. What could Harry be embarrassed about? He just made the team win by himself.
"There was…" Hermione began, "a small accident. With Malfoy."
Okay, maybe Ron wasn't the best choice as a POV for this chapter, at least if we wanted a joyful one. But let's be honest, the Order of the Phoenix didn't seem to be meant as a joyful book. The atmosphere through the whole book was quite negative. And I wanted an opportunity to delve deep into how Ron must have felt during and after such a game. Harry is not the only one to have a hard time this year, and we get to see things are hard for quite a lot of other people.
Now, the "small accident" at the end of the game, as Hermione called it, wasn't shown here, since Ron wasn't present. Wait to read the next chapter.
Please review.
Next chapter: Lily