Autumn 1991

Ronald Weasley

The morning was slow to come, the black velvet sky slowly fading into shades of purples and blues where the stars were snuffed like distant candles. Ron watched, unmoving, as the lake outside the dormitory window grew brighter, the shadows of fish coming into focus and his heart beating faster and faster.

He knew that staying awake all night was a poor idea, he could feel the heaviness of his muscles threatening to pin him backwards to his bed. But, he wasn't going to sleep before and he certainly wasn't going to after what happened with Malfoy. The altercation in the common room left his hand with a deep spot of pale blue where his fist had collided with Malfoy's face. He imagined that Snape would see it, the potion master's sharp gaze splitting through him like an axe and blaming him for everything that had happened. He swallowed.

Ron could still hardly believe that he had punched Malfoy. It had been such an instant action that he had barely thought about !Whatever problems they were having with Malfoy were going to be worse, no doubt, and it was entirely his fault. The git had deserved the punch, he had been deserving of it for weeks, but still Ron knew it was a mistake. Especially, he grimaced, if Malfoy decided to go to his father.

A sick thought flooded Ron's head as he wondered if the man beneath the mask, the one who had killed Charlie, could possibly be Lucious Malfoy. It swirled dread around his stomach.

Not wanting to be late, he stood from the edge of his bed and took one final longing look out the window before turning around and submitting himself to whatever punishment awaited him. Both Blaise and Theo still slept soundly as Ron crept past them and out of the dormitories.

Snape's office was nestled halfway between the Slytherin common room and the potion's lab. It was a grim, scorch-marked door that Ron had never seen inside of, a small silver plaque reading 'potions professor' pinned in the centre with a large snake-shaped knocker beneath.

The appearance of the door alone was enough to make Ron sweat, and he wondered if Snape did that on purpose. The way Ron had seen the professor antagonise some students, mostly Neville, still made him pause and wonder why Dumbledore ever hired him. He was fairly certain Snape wasn't evil, he probably didn't let the troll into the school, but he was certainly miserable. In that regard, Ron thought, the Slytherin head of house was a lot like the squib groundskeeper Filch. They both seemed to hate children but worked at the best wizarding school in all of Europe, which to Ron, made no sense at all.

Sucking in a breath and doing his best to push down his lingering thoughts about Lucious Malfoy potentially killing his parents, he took hold of the knocker and slammed it against the door three times.

With a sudden shutter of magic, the door sprung open. The room behind was as drab and grim as Ron could have imagined. Much like the potions lab, the offices' shadowed walls were lined with rows of shelves containing small glinting glass jars where within bits of indistinguishable ingredients floated in multicolour fluids. In one of the back corner,s there was a small hearth, much smaller than any of the other ones Ron had seen at Hogwarts. The fire within crackled with a strange color that lingered somewhere between orange and blue. In the other corner, there was a small closed cabinet with a lock. Just beside the door was an empty desk and an old worn chair that looked as if it might have been much older than Ron or even Professor Snape.

Professor Snape himself sat at a desk in the direct centre of the room, a few rolled scrolls piled to one side and a number of quills and ink pots on the other. He didn't seem nearly as angry as Ron thought he would be, his face looking more or less like someone had dragged mud over his floor rather than like Ron was about to be expelled.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape said shortly. "I expect you know why you are here."

Ron swallowed thickly and stepped into the office. The door closed behind him with a subtle click.

"I punched Draco Malfoy… sir," Ron answered uncomfortably.

"Indeed, it seems Mr Weasley that you've decided not to follow my advice. In which case, I can only assume it is because you are lingering about the halls with the likes of Potter and other students who have a disregard for the way this school works."

Ron frowned. He wasn't sure that Harry had ever broken any rules, at least, not since he used his broom to fly after Malfoy.

"Perhaps you will not believe me, but I understand where you are Mr Weasley. People such as Draco Malfoy will never understand what it is like to live life without anything they have ever wanted. It becomes… seductive to punish them, to take matters into your own hands. But, doing such things can lead you down dangerous paths. Paths which more often than not lead you to a place that you never wanted to be. A place where people like Draco Malfoy would be completely comfortable. It is a necessity, not a suggestion, that you make your peace with Mr Malfoy. If I catch you doing something like this again, the punishment will be very severe for your own sake and for the sake of this house."

"I understand sir," Ron mumbled, although he didn't really see how punching Malfoy for saying something terrible about Hermione could lead to some terrible place. After all, it wasn't like Ron was going to murder Draco Malfoy, Ron may have been angry but he wasn't crazy. There was only one person he wanted to kill, and for good reason.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Ron, the look seeming to be severe enough to raise a slight headache in the back of Ron's mind. The professor seemed to grasp and recognize Ron's discomfort as he glanced back down at his desk.

"Today," Snape said, "you will not be escaping punishment. No, I have warned you enough Mr Weasley. You'll be helping me with some potion work that is not directly related to your studies and your performance or lack thereof will not be taken into account during your grading. But do not take me for a fool Mr Weasley, you will act as if this is the most important potion you have ever brewed or I shall assign you detention for the rest of the school year. Am I understood?"

Ron nodded slowly. Honestly, aside from Snape's presence, potions were hardly the worst class at Hogwarts. After all, the process wasn't unlike cooking, which was something his mother enjoyed for fun. And normally, at least during class, he got to speak to his potions partner which was first Theo and then Daphne. Although, he imagined the process might not be as fun if the only person to speak to was Snape himself.

With one last look, Snape stood to his feet, his black robes billowing out behind him. The door which had closed behind Ron, threw itself open once more. Snape floated out from behind the desk, brushing past Ron with a gentle breeze and motioning for him to follow.

They made their way down the hall and into the potions lab, which looked the same as every day except for the missing students. It was almost odd, Ron thought, to be in a place that was usually so full but have it be completely empty. He wondered if Theo and Tracy felt the same way when they had come to steal the potion that they used or intended to use on Malfoy. The lack of bodies also left a slight chill in the air that was usually less severe during class; it settled a cold feeling in the tips of Ron's fingers.

Ron, without instruction, took his usual seat. It wasn't at the front of the class but it wasn't at the back either, and although all of the stations were relatively the same there was a certain allure and comfort to working at the same place.

As if it was a regular class, Snape approached the blackboard and with a long gnarly piece of chalk scribbled out, in his loopy handwriting, a potion recipe that Ron had never seen before.

"A fire protection potion," Snape said, "will allow you to step through an inferno and not feel a morsel of heat. Usually, I teach this potion in second year. But seeing as I have not reached that class yet with my second years, and there is a need for one of these potions here at the castle, I see no reason why Mr Weasley, you cannot attempt to brew an adequate version. I will admit, the potions you have brewed in my class so far have been usable at best, which is all this potion requires. Should you prove to be a complete idiot and be unable to make this potion, you will try again. You will try again, and again, until you have completed the potion correctly or until it is time for my evening classes. At which point, you will have to come back tomorrow and try again. Do I make myself clear?" Snape asked.

Ron nodded, despite the complexity of the task he couldn't help but feel as if he wasn't really being punished. After all, he was essentially getting a leg up against his classmates. If he managed to get the potion right then he was sure to have an all right time with it next year when it really mattered. He felt almost as if Snape was using his detention as an excuse to teach, which Ron guessed was probably something that a good teacher should do but it seemed horribly out of character.

Ron wondered if there was something to what Snape had been saying but understood where he was. He wondered if Snape was old enough to have known Draco's father and if the two had ever fought in the same way. Ron couldn't imagine Snape losing his temper, at least not in the way that he had. Snape seemed to him more like a well-refined version of Theo, the kind of person who would poison someone rather than punch them in the face. But, Ron cringed, that was probably the case for most slytherins. After all he had to remind himself that bravery and physical confrontation was more of a Gryffindor trait. Crabbe and Goyle were outliers and Goyle had hesitated when Ron had hit Malfoy.

Either way, Ron was sure that his punishment wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been and he was thankful that Snape seemed content to leave it at this. He also noticed that the Professor hadn't given any indication about writing a letter home or telling his parents, which Ron was thankful for. He doubted that Malfoy would tell very many people that the bruise on his face was because Ron hit him, at least, not without finding some way to make himself look more powerful. It seemed there was a good chance that no one would ever find out and that the twins wouldn't have any opportunity to make Ron's life more miserable. A huge relief lifted from his shoulders. If the rumour hadn't spread around the school, Malfoy probably wouldn't tell his father.

Ron pushed himself out of his chair, and made his way to the potions ingredient closet. He was going to try his best even if this potion wasn't graded because next year it would be. And he wanted to get it right on the first try. Not only because, strangely, he felt like he owed it to Professor Snape, but also because he imagined that a potion that made you fireproof could be useful in the future. Especially, because in his vision, the campground had been burning to the ground. If he was going to do what Sal suggested and hide in the shadows until it was time to kill his target, he could just as easily hide in the flames instead.