Autumn 1991

Ronald Weasley

Ron's eyes fluttered open, the world blurred and fogged in front of him. He blinked harshly, sharpening his gaze on the pale yellow ceiling of the infirmary. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air and replaced the stench that had penetrated his vision.

The back of Ron's head burned with the same hot ache that he had felt the night he lay on the kitchen floor. As if someone had taken a hot coal and pressed it against his skin. He adjusted his head, grimacing as he did so.

Ron's mind raced, scrambling to hold on to the memory of his vision. I felt different this time– muted and not so present. Unlike his other vision, no images leapt into his eyes and he could almost convince himself it had been a dream. Perhaps, he thought, there was a difference between the past and the future. Even now faint whispers of green shimmered on the edge of his awareness, and he could see clearly the puppet-like corpse of his brother. But, the finer details of Voldemort's face faded quickly from his mind. It felt farther and farther with each passing second as if it was sand passing through his hands.

Voldemort…the word was foreign in Ron's mind. It had always been a taboo, and it was not a word he would normally ,he repeated again. He mouthed the word as he did so. It did not seem so different from any other name. Which, he supposed it really wasn't.

His fingers trembled slightly even though they were tucked inside a set of crisp white sheets. He heard Lily Potter's voice beg the man from the road for mercy, he heard her beg Voldemort for mercy. It caused his stomach to swirl and feel nauseous once again.

He could hardly believe that that was how Harry's parents had died. It seemed so desperate, and tragic, and it had an air of evilness that Ron struggled to fully comprehend. He tried to swallow and found that his throat felt too dry.

He removed his arms from the sheets and pushed himself backwards into a low sitting position. A hand landed gently on his shoulder.

"Easy, Mr Weasley," Madam Pomfrey murmured. "Finally awake, are you? You gave everyone quite a scare."

"A scare?" He repeated the words back to her. "Right, the troll."

He looked up at the healer. She was an older witch, with greying brown hair and greyish-blue eyes. She wore a uniform that reminded Ron of St Mungo's due to the white apron and white hat. He couldn't help but think that it was a ridiculous uniform. After all, why would you wear white when you are likely to get blood on it?

"Indeed," Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Now, would you like to explain exactly what happened so that I may inform the Headmaster?"

Ron , I wouldn't like to.

"I–", he cleared his throat, "I think I exploded the troll."

"Oh, not just the troll Mr Weasley but a sizable section of the girls' lavatory or so I am told. Not to mention, the unspeakable damage you had done to your own ear drums. It is only by pure dumb luck that you are even alive, you were macerated by brick. It is a wonder that nothing hit your heart or brain." The healer's voice had a tinge of annoyance. "Thankfully, you managed to avoid hitting either Miss Granger or Mr Potter."

"Harry," Ron said quickly, "the troll hurt him pretty badly."

"Not as badly as you hurt yourself," Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Mr Potter suffered a broken rib, which I was able to mend rather quickly with the right spell. Do not worry about him Mr Weasley, I have provided Mr Potter with everything he needs to get well soon. In fact, he's already been dismissed from my care."

A great rush of relief washed over Ron. "And Hermione?"

"Miss Granger was quite shaken but entirely uninjured. Which, I am to thank you for, I believe? It is a brave thing to save another student Mr Weasley but I would recommend that you not blow yourself up in the process." She frowned down at him. "It took a lot of careful spell work to mend your body, not to mention the exhaustion you forced upon yourself. Whatever spell you used, was far too advanced for your age. I had to administer both strength potions and sleeping draughts to keep you from slipping into a magical coma. And even then, Mr Weasley, it has been three days since Hallowe'en."

Ron's eyes bloody days!? Merlin!?

"Has anyone come to see me?" He asked. He couldn't help but picture a disappointed look on his mother's face.

"Your brother, and then some other first years. Friends of yours I presume. There were far more visitors than I would have liked. I had to kick them out twice for making the room dreadfully too loud."

"Not… my parents?" Ron asked softly. He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be.

"As a general rule, Mr Weasley, parents are not invited into the castle unless there's a significant likelihood that a student will not recover. You were terribly injured, but as I said you were also incredibly lucky. There was never a moment where I thought you might die. And so, it would be distracting and counterproductive to have your parents march into my hospital. After all, this is a magic school. It is to be expected that there are mishaps with magic."

Ron blinked dumbly. Did that mean his parents didn't know? A deep feeling of anxiety flooded his chest causing him to erupt in a sputter of dry coughs.

Madam Pomfrey handed him a small wooden cup containing a lilac-coloured liquid. "A diluted mixture of water and trace amounts of elixir. It will help your body recover from any exhaustion that still remains."

Ron nodded and took the cup with both hands. He raised it to his mouth and drank greedily with deep gulps. It took him less than a second to empty the cup. It did not have a pleasant taste, but Ron was too thirsty to mind.

"Now, if you are quite well Mr Weasley, I will go and speak to the headmaster. He was quite concerned about your well-being. I am sure, in due time, he will inform your parents about what has happened."

I hope not.

"Please remain here while I am gone, and for all things sacred please do not try to stand up. I would not like to have to pull your teeth out of your tongue should you fall over."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a suspicious look as if she dared him to disobey her. He offered a small smile in return, trying his best not to show any signs of pain. Seemingly content, the healer lifted her hand from his shoulder and stepped around the long curtain that encased Ron's cot.

Immediately, he couldn't help but think of Voldemort. Glaring red eyes that seemed to glow unnaturally and a cold demeanour that seemed eerie and dangerous. He wasn't the monster that Ron had ever envisioned but he was certainly something beyond. In some respects, as grim as Ron found it, he couldn't help but wonder what that sort of confidence was like. Sal too was confident, but in a way that seemed aristocratic. Ron envied Salazar and wanted nothing more than to have the same carefree and assured look. But now that want lingered with the sickly thought that he could somehow go the other way. By being the villain Hermione imagined him to be, he would end up not like Salazar but like Voldemort.

His stomach churned uneasily. He would make an effort, he decided, to avoid that path at any cost. He would apologise to Hermione, properly, and he would put an end to the name-calling. He wasn't sure how, but he would find a way. He would have to ask around to discover which students had said what, and then think of some way to make them stop. After all, he frowned, he didn't think Snape would care.

Somewhere beyond the curtain came the steady sound of footfalls. Ron bit his lip nervously, half expecting his mother to force her way into the castle. After all, he wasn't sure even Dumbledore could keep her away forever.

Percy pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the makeshift area, his eyes locking on Ron's and a look of relief spreading across his thin face.

"I saw Madam Pomfrey in the hall," he explained. "I had to come and make sure you're okay."

Ron smiled up at him. After everything, he was glad he still had someone on his side.

"Are you alright?" Percy asked him. "Truly?"

Ron shrugged. "I think so."

He was as well as he could be given what had happened. Still, he almost felt as if he should have been worse off. After all, he had been a mess when he witnessed Charlie's death. Shouldn't he have felt the same now? Didn't he care that Lily and James Potter had died?

Percy sat down in a small wooden chair that had been placed alongside the bed.

"Ron… why did you try to find the troll?" Percy asked gently. Ron could tell he was worried.

Ron's cheeks turned a little rosy. The last thing he wanted to do was to tell the truth, but at the same time, he didn't want to lie to Percy. "I–" he started and stopped. "I was in the library this morning and I accidently bumped into Hermione Granger. I didn't mean to, but I made her cry."

"She was with you, wasn't she? Her and Harry?"

He nodded. "I went to try and save her because I knew she was hiding in the bathroom. I didn't think the troll would be there, it was supposed to be in the dungeons."

Percy frowned, "you could have told someone. You could have told me."

"I'm sorry," Ron said with a shameful tone. "I didn't want to get into any more trouble. I was worried about what the twins or mum would say if they found out that I made her cry."

Percy's face softened into sympathy. "I'm sorry too. That I couldn't be there for you. You shouldn't have had to deal with that on your own. I've heard the rumours Ron, rumours that you killed the troll."

Ron shifted slightly. "They aren't rumours," he managed to mutter.

Percy nodded, not quite looking as upset as Ron imagined.

"It's alright," Percy replied, "it wasn't your fault. The troll should have never been inside the castle."

"Mum won't think that way."

"She will, she'll hear about what happened from Dumbledore. He's already given you one hundred points towards the house cup. He doesn't think you've done anything wrong, and neither do I. You were put into a situation that you should have never been in. It's not your fault, Ron." Percy took a short loud breath. "I'm sorry it had to be you. If you want to talk about it…"

"Thank you," Ron said softly.

He didn't know what to say about it. He didn't feel particularly unwell about killing the troll, after all, it had tried to kill him first. It was only the reactions of others that he worried about, which in itself unnerved him. Shouldn't he have cared that he killed something? Trolls weren't exactly the same as wizards or muggles but they weren't animals either. He probably should have been more ,he thought trolls and then goblins. Soon I'll be murdering wizards.

"I'm proud of you," Percy added. "You saved their lives. After everything that you've been dealing with this year, you still managed to be a hero."

You don't know what I've been dealing with.

Ron smiled at his brother. Even though he knew Percy's pride was misplaced, it still helped to calm his nerves. After all, maybe heroes had to kill sometimes. Hadn't Salazar killed his enemies? Godric too? Even famous Aurors like Mad-Eye Moody had killed dark wizards. Maybe he shouldn't have felt bad. Maybe the troll deserved its fate. Ron hoped so.

Just as he opened his mouth to thank his brother, the curtains parted once again. Ron felt his entire body freeze in place as he looked into Harry's emerald-green eyes. They looked so much like his mothers.

"Sorry," Harry said lightly. "I hope we aren't interrupting."

Hermione and Neville stood behind him. Neville seemed as if he was going to be sick and Hermione looked rather nervous.

"Not at all," Percy answered for them. "I was just making sure that Ron was okay."

"And are you?" Harry asked.

Ron couldn't help but notice how much he looked like James Potter. It was as if he was staring into the past. He nodded dumbly.

Hermione stepped in front of Harry and she cleared her throat lightly. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "For accusing you of knocking over my books and for making you save me. I was being a… git."

Ron couldn't help but grin widely. Maybe forgiveness wasn't so hard to come by. Maybe he didn't have to be the villain.

"I'm sorry too," he said quickly. "About calling you that, I was the one being a git."

Percy narrowed his eyes. "Language, please."

"Shite, sorry Perce," Ron said, earning another glare and causing Harry to chuckle.

"But really, Hermione, I shouldn't have said that," Ron said honestly. "It wasn't right, especially after you told me that other people were calling you names."

Percy looked from Ron to Hermione. "Calling you names?"

Hermione blushed. "Sometimes, but it's really nothing."

Ron's smile slipped into a frown. "It's not nothing, they were calling you a mud-blood."

Neville's eyes widened. "Really?"

Hermione glanced down at her feet. "Only sometimes,"

"Who?" Percy asked. "I'll give them a year's worth of detention."

"What is a mud blood?"

Three sets of eyes turned to Harry.

Percy cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "It's… it's someone who has very recent muggle ancestry. It's a word that means they're dirty, that they have mud in their veins."

"But that's not fair," Harry frowned. "I lived with muggles too."

"It isn't fair," Percy nodded. "Which is why I want to know names."

Hermione looked up from her feet and gave Ron a pleading look.

"I'll find out," he said. "She doesn't know their names because they are Slytherins, but I can find out."

Percy nodded shortly as if he wasn't entirely content with the answer.

Ron extended out his hand towards Hermione. "Can we be friends?"

She looked up into his eyes. They were very round orbs that reminded Ron of the colour of fire whiskey. She took his hand lightly, her skin feeling far smoother than he expected.

"You saved my life," she said with a little bit of a laugh. "Of course we can be friends."