Out of the Sorting Hat

by Ana-Anaphora

Voldemort was wrong, which he found out after resurrecting the Hogwarts founders. Albus Dumbledore is wrong, but he doesn't know that yet. Read about what happens with Hogwarts and the magical world when the founders are dropped into the mix and their heirs are named, and when Augusta Longbottom and Salazar Slytherin scheme using every resource. Even Witch Weekly.

23. Chapter 23

In which Ron scares Rowena and gets to meet Barty and some Tom-guy.

It's the longest chapter up to date.

Enjoy!
A_A

---

Since Harry left on Tuesday morning, Ron barely saw him in passing. Later, on Thursday, the gossip informed him that Harry was sick and out of the castle and wouldn't be back soon. Those four days, up to and including Friday, were the most lonely Ron got since the beginning of the school year. And he dreaded the weekend. Initially, it was mostly because of the invitation to talk with Slytherin. About Quidditch, out of all things. However, with time, Ron got more and more overwhelmed by the amount of free time he expected to have during the weekend.

He had the Quidditch practice planned on Saturday morning, then the meeting with the Slytherin, and after that, there was nothing up to the stroll with Neville to water some stupid tree on Sunday evening. But whatever, he could water the stupid tree if only it took some of the time he had left. He even planned on joining Hermione and her friends in the library.

Honestly, planning to spend some of his weekend in the library with Ravenclaws sounded dreadful. But besides that, he wasn't left with much to do, and whatever he chose, he would have to do it outside of the slimy common room. The only place with armchairs and sofas currently available to Ron.

Last weekend, Ron visited Gryffindor's common room, but now it felt… odd to be there. He felt as if he stained the sacred ground with his filthy green and silver robe. It was a little better in Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw would probably be similar. He wouldn't know. Hermione never invited him there. But Harry did a couple of times, and Ron enjoyed the company of other Hufflepuffs as well, but he wasn't about to beg them about their time, and they didn't invite him, even if he was welcome to join during the lessons.

Except for boredom and having nobody to talk to, the worst part of being alone was Ron's thoughts. He often thought about his mother's letter and sometimes even tried to join Fred and George or Ginny as a result. But Ginny chased him away, not interested in having her older brother around her friends. While Fred and George were busy pranking and conspiring in the corners, and when approached, they mocked Ron as the only snake that ever cried. At best.

Therefore, Ron dreaded the weekend.

Hermione approached Ron when they were heading to the common rooms after astronomy. She had to chase him because Ron went ahead, not willing to go with his housemates or follow them.

"Why are you running?" She asked, panting and trying to adjust her tempo to his long strides.

"I'm not running," he grunted.

"Well, could you slow down? I'm not going to chase after you. And what's with you, recently? You're acting as if something was constantly biting your arse!"

Ron thought that she could bite him and go to her beloved Ravenclaws. He also thought about shouting at her that it was easy for her to talk, as she was not Slytherin, and doesn't have to drag herself to Salazar Slytherin at least once a week. That she doesn't have to endure Snape's torment because Slytherin didn't berate Snape on her account, and she has bearable roommates, not slimy gits, and her old friends didn't abandon her. But said slimy gits were following, and Ron didn't want to give them satisfaction or advantage.

"What do you want?" He asked instead, a little sharper than intended.

"Well, I wanted to tell you what I know about Harry, but if you're no longer interested in our friendship, then go on. I don't have to tell you anything."

"Oh, I'm not interested?" he snapped and stopped in place, looking at her with resentment. With the corner of his eye, he noticed the interested gazes of the rest of the class. They were still in the astronomy tower, just a few steps over the astronomy classroom used for the regular daytime lessons. So he pulled Hermione there and shut the doors.

"It hurt!" she exclaimed, massaging the shoulder where Ron gripped her. He felt a little guilty. Truth be told, he didn't mean to grab her so hard.

"Sorry…" he muttered, and Hermione softened slightly.

"You could have just told me to talk on the side," she replied, placing her bag on the desk. That's all she got to do before the doors reopened and a couple of Ravenclaws picked inside.

"Are you okay? What happened?" asked the pretty blonde (Daphne?), who was part of Hermione's new group.

"Weasley happened," sneered Malfoy from behind her. "You don't manhandle girls, Weasley. Haven't your father told you that?"

"Worry for your own father, Malfoy. Filthy Death Eaters," Ron shot back and didn't stop when he heard some sharp intakes of breath. "Good that he's dead. One…"

Ron didn't get to finish because the spell hit him in the chest and pushed him backwards. He landed on the floor, on his fours, suddenly seeing the world entirely different. It was spinning. Fast. And all the words around him were distorted. Ron felt sick and threw up. There was shouting somewhere above him, but he couldn't separate the words. Dazed, Ron tried to stand up, but he only lost his balance and fell back on the floor, his palm sliding in the vomit.

More shouting followed, someone grabbed him by the arm and steadied him… Seconds later everything returned to normal. As suddenly as it started.

"…and that is detention, Mr Malfoy!" were the first words he heard. Professor Sinistra was clearly furious, and Ron was glad to hear that Malfoy was being punished. So much that he almost smiled, but then Professor's eyes fell on him. "And for your cruelty, Mr Weasley, you will report to me as well. Tomorrow in the evening. As I live and breathe… Absolutely unacceptable! Can you stand up?" Ron nodded, scrambling to his feet. "Good. Then, go to the hospital wing. Miss Granger will escort you… with Miss Greengrass. If he's not staying for the night in the hospital wing, make sure he makes it to the common room. Everybody else, go now! Sleep! Shoo!"

As the other students started to leave, looking behind themselves, Hermione cleaned the floor and Ron's robes.

"How could you?" Daphne Greengrass asked quietly. "Whoever Lucius Malfoy was, he was his father. Are you that insensitive or just stupid?"

Ron didn't answer, gathering his things from the floor. They were silent on their way to the hospital wing, bar the short conversation between the girls, after which Daphne took a different route.

Madame Pomfrey was outraged by the hex used on Ron but said that the hex and the counter were cast properly, and he'd be just fine.

"You don't have to walk down with me," Ron said as they left. "Just go."

"I didn't mean for this to happen, but you should be more careful with your words. I mean… Is it good that his father is dead? I mean… It's not bad per se, but to say it to Malfoy just like that?"

"What do you want, Hermione? You clearly have your happy resorting, and you're awesome with your new friends, but Slytherin sucks, you know? So just go to them and leave me alone."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, clearly surprised by his words. "You don't mean that! You are my friend, and Harry is my friend. There's just so much going on!"

Ron responded with a grunt and a shrug.

"Sure," he said.

"You know that you are welcome to join us. You do join us in the library. And I saw you with Harry, and Neville. And I'm sure there's someone nice in Slytherin…"

"Well, there's not," Ron interrupted her and stopped. "When's Harry coming back?"

"Helga said he's going to be back soon. After Mabon, most likely. That's Wednesday."

"Okay. Goodnight," Ron said and moved ahead as fast as he could without running.

"Ron!" Hermione called behind him, but he didn't stop. He had more than enough.

---

Was it so bad that Ron relished the hours spent on the pitch? Even if wearing green? Even if potentially being the reason for Gryffindor's eventual failure? Truly, Quidditch practice, three times a week, was the best hours of Ron's time in Hogwarts.

The most entertaining thing was to chase Smith with the bludger through the whole pitch. Surprisingly, Cassius Warrington decided it was a good exercise, and Ron got to try to hit almost every member of the team. But then Warrington rebuked Ron for not aiming at Ginny, and it stopped being fun. It was actually quite annoying to have Ginny on the team. He never thought she'd play, and if he were to imagine her on the team, it would be after he had at least one year of seniority over her. And definitely not in Slytherin colours.

The other thing he enjoyed was flying on an awesome broom. He got one of the seven Nimbus 2001, and if he forgot that Lucius Malfoy bought them, he had fun.

He always lingered after the practice to shower and change alone and in peace. The added bonus was that when he got to the lunch after Saturday's practice, the rest were mostly done with their meals, and he could eat without people judging his every move.

But no matter how slowly he showered, changed, and ate, he couldn't do it sluggishly enough to avoid the meeting with Slytherin.

"Ah, Ronald," Slytherin smiled at him after opening the doors. "It's good you're here. Sit down. Help yourself to the tea."

Ron didn't want tea. He didn't want to be here at all. But he grunted something in terms of greeting, sat in the same place as previously, and took care of the bloody tea.

"We're in the middle of the month; two weeks passed since our first conversation," Slytherin said, sitting in the armchair. Different than previously, this time to the side of Ron. One of the cups gently flew to the man's outstretched hand. "And I have heard a lot about you in the meantime, Ronald. But I wouldn't like to presume that anything I have heard is true. Why won't you tell me what happened during this time?"

Ron stopped stirring his tea. He knew exactly what it was about, and he should… it would be best to… Oh crap!

"I only told the truth, and Malfoy hexed me! That wasn't my fault! And he came after us to the classroom, where he had no business being!" He said loudly and defensively, not able to come up with anything else. To his utter disbelief, Slytherin raised his eyebrows and looked at Ron with a question written all over his face.

He didn't know.

Bloody hell!

Ron wanted to hit himself in this stupid head and order himself to eat a bowl of slugs as a punishment for his stupid, idiotic, thoughtless blabbering.

Slytherin waited, looking at Ron expectantly.

Ron cleared his throat.

"Well… It… Last night, after astronomy, Hermione and I went to the classroom to talk. Because Harry's not here, and Hermione wanted to tell me what's going on. But then Malfoy came in, who knows why, like it's his business what we're talking about. And he said that I had manhandled her and that my father should have taught me not to do that, so I told him to care about his own stupid, dead father. And he hexed me. So… Yeah, we both got detention from Professor Sinistra…"

Slytherin listened in silence. His face stopped mimicking a question mark, but his eyebrows were still raised. It made Ron feel insecure.

"That's all," he added.

But there was still silence, and the eyebrows were still raised. Ron stirred a little in his place, picked up a cup with tea.

"Besides that, nothing special happened," he started talking again, not certain what he should do. "I got on the quidditch team. I'm a beater. And it's great, I managed to hit… I mean, I'm good. Good beater, I mean…" Ron cleared his throat and sipped a little of his tea. What should he do now? Why wasn't he saying anything?! Should Ron keep talking? He looked at his cup and stirred his tea some more. The spoon tingled on the glass.

"My sister is on the team as well," he added. "She's a chaser. We're usually good in Quidditch, the Weasleys. Only Percy wasn't on the team. And Charlie, Fred and George got to be captains. However, it may be a disaster for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I mean, I honestly have no idea whether they can plan any sort of strategy. They're good with pranks, but I don't think that's enough to build a team. Though George can bet anything on Harry, and they'll win anyway, so there's that. With Chang as our seeker, we don't really have big chances against him, but Warrington seems to know that, and he works mostly on teamwork. And he says it would be good if Smith or I could throw Harry or any other seeker of the broom cuz it's the only thing that would help Chang. But he's crazy if he thinks I'm throwing Harry off the broom. Though, I could throw Malfoy off. The stupid, slimy git he is…" the last words Ron muttered to his cup. And he still got no response, so he just kept talking, looking at his tea. "And Hermione is no better than him. She doesn't give a crap about Harry or me; she has new friends now. Oi, do you know something about Harry? When he's coming back? How is he?" He looked up at Slytherin, and he felt a spike of anger. Why wasn't he saying anything?!

"Harry is recovering," Slytherin replied softly. "I expect him to be back on his feet sometime next week."

"Good," Ron said, looking away. "It's awful without him. He doesn't have much time, but still, it's better than nothing. Why does Hogwarts not have any place for all students? Like a common common room or something?"

"It does have the Great Hall," Slytherin replied, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, for eating. You cannot sit there comfortably or whatever. If I want to spend time with people from other houses than mine, I have to go to the library where you have to be quiet, or the great hall, or outside, but it's often too cold for that. And it's just stupid to sit in corridors or in the unused classrooms. Couldn't there be, I don't know, some places where we could sit and just hang out?"

"That's an interesting idea, Ronald. Think about it. Make a good proposition. And while you're on it, I wanted to ask you one more thing."

Slytherin's words were kind. And his tone was friendly. But Ron found it hard to look at the man. And he couldn't really trust his words. But what could he do? Really?

"Yes?" he asked uncertainly.

"If I recall correctly, you've mentioned that you like playing chess," Salazar said softly. "And I believe there must be more students like you. How about you start by choosing a place for a room designed to play chess? A place in which chess players could meet. Possibly compete with each other."

"Like a chess club?" Ron asked, perking up. It rang as a place he could have for himself, a place he could sit in to not sit in the slimy dungeon, a place to which people would come, and he wouldn't have to beg for anyone's attention.

"A chess club? A splendid idea," Slytherin replied, visibly content. "Providing there's none, of course."

"There isn't," Ron assured him quickly. "I'd have to find a good place and inform people, and we'd need a lot of chessboards, and maybe some books about chess, and tables, and chairs, and comfy sofas… For reading and talking, of course," he added hurriedly, just in case Slytherin thought he would see this room as a place to laze around. Not that he didn't, but it wasn't all. "Though won't people just come and sit there, and do nothing, and disrupt the game? That's annoying when everybody's talking around you."

"Well, that's one more reason to make a place or two like the one you talked about earlier. And you could invite people to your club, make it more exclusive," Slytherin offered, lightly adding, "Do you know some other students known for their superb skills?"

Ron didn't miss the phrasing suggesting that he was superb in chess. Apparently, Slytherin truly heard a lot about Ron. If only he weren't Slytherin, he could be quite nice.

As Ronald started recalling people who could be good players, Slytherin passed him a piece of paper to note them down. He carefully observed the boy. At this point, Ronald Weasley was like an open book, broadcasting his emotions left and right, even if his thoughts weren't so prominent in his expressions. What was interesting to observe was that Ronald's anger seemed to spike abruptly with any mention of Slytherins or Slytherin's house, and when he was somehow reminded with whom he was speaking. This and other behaviours of the boy had already caught Salazar's attention, but it suddenly stopped being peculiar in the light of recent discoveries.

The boy was clearly under the influence of compulsions of some sort. From Dumbledore's perspective, it must have been reasonable to place in Harry's proximity someone who so clearly antagonised him against the Slytherin house and the associated worldview. In this light, it was astonishing that Salazar was able to achieve anything with Ronald Weasley and placed the current results in a completely different light.

Ronald did exactly what Salazar wanted him to do, except for the key point: adapting to the Slytherin and getting along with his housemates. Salazar hoped that introducing the chess club would simultaneously give the boy an alternative place to spend his free time and surround him with other people of similar interests. He hoped that Ronald would get to know some of the Slytherins and break his pattern of thoughts. A try destined to fail if Ronald was under compulsions.

Hoping to examine the hypothesis further, Salazar questioned the boy about the students on the list, noticed the lack of Slytherins, and asked about talented Slytherins that could be added. He also asked Ron about the game of chess and a little more about Quidditch and Quidditch players. Eventually, came back to the chess club and communal spaces around the castle that Ronald would seem appropriate. Finally, during the long conversation, he circled the room, coming in and out of Ronald's line of sight. Conclusions clearly and firmly supported Salazar's theory of compulsions.

"Actually, Ronald," Salazar stopped the boy on his way outside. "I wonder… could you maybe spend a little of your time helping Rowena in her studies? She mentioned that it was very convenient to have Harry around, and I believe you would be excellent to replace him."

Unsurprisingly, the boy who lived in the shade of his famous friend was visibly flattered by the idea.

"Sure! When?"

"How about we go to her now?" Salazar offered, although it wasn't quite an offer, as he moved towards the door instantly. "I can show you the way, as I am quite positive you've never visited Rowena before."

"There was no reason," Ronald shrugged and followed Slytherin. He was happy to go in the tow, as then Slytherin wouldn't see how excited Ron was about finally solving the mystery of what Harry was doing with Ravenclaw and why Ron could never go to help. He always said it was boring, but Ron never really believed him. Why would he go there and offer his help over and over again when it was boring for him but would certainly be thrilling for some Ravenclaw? Like Hermione, for example.

Ron discarded the bland conversation between Slytherin and Ravenclaw for the benefit of looking around the room. It wasn't much. A couple of elegant, seemingly comfortable furniture on a pretty rug, large windows, and doors leading to the left and right. Nothing more. Ravenclaw seemed reluctant to lead Ronald to the right, although she did. The second room was more saying, although not very interesting as well. Books, mostly. Some trinkets or maybe artefacts. It wasn't easy to say. After all, Ron had zero experience or training in the recognition of artefacts. However, the magic was brimming in the air.

Ravenclaw ordered him to sit and hold some kind of crystal, but she did not explain the purpose. And then, she began questioning. What was his name, his siblings' names, his attitude towards his siblings, then the names of his friends and foes, and what about them? The crystal was shining gently and stronger at some points, changing colours sometimes. All the while, Ravenclaw was casting some spells on him, but when Ronald asked what and why, she dismissed him, saying that he agreed to help and to keep quiet. And so it went on for hours, however, it seemed like days and grew increasingly tiresome.

Ron's stomach grumbled.

"Name the three most pleasurable things," Ravenclaw demanded. Again. And Ron wanted to groan. But if Harry could do that, Ron could as well. Even hungry.

"Food, Quidditch, Christmas," Ron said again, as if on autopilot.

Ron now believed Harry, even if he still didn't understand why Harry would decide to sit like this for hours. No surprise that he finally broke down and had to be escorted out of Hogwarts and this woman's clutches! Oh, how Ron regretted his curiosity right now…

"Name the three things you hate the most."

"You-Know-Who, Death Eaters, Slytherins, purebloods, and the whole bunch of those slimy gits," Ron almost growled.

Who was he to say, actually, that Slytherin didn't make him do this for some purpose? What if Harry was really sick as a result of this prodding? He looked at Ravenclaw suspiciously, but she seemed only concentrated and maybe, just maybe, mildly concerned.

She went on, asking further about his favourite food, favourite quidditch team and Christmas traditions, and about his mother, father, and brothers.

"List your siblings from the most to least liked," she commended. The first time she asked, Ron was confused, now he only said it mindlessly.

"Mum, Dad, Charlie, Bill, George, Fred, Ginny, and Percy," Ginny and Percy angered him now. He realised that in the course of this stupid questioning. But why would that be surprising? They both went along with all this resorting and being slimy snakes. Percy even had the audacity of telling him to adjust. As if!

Ravenclaw was silent (again) and waved his wand above him. And nothing was happening. Or at least nothing visible to Ron.

But why would Ravenclaw need to know all these things? Hasn't Mum told Ron to stay away from them? And what did he do? Went for a bloody tea with Slytherin and agreed to hours of testing with Ravenclaw?! Maybe he was somehow enchanted to agree with them? To like them? Well, they could forget it.

Ron placed the crystal on the side table.

"I'm hungry," he said, "I'd better go."

"Not now," she said absentmindedly. "Don't move."

"I don't think so," Ron said, standing up. "I need to go. Now."

He was almost certain now that they had some ulterior motives for having him here. For having Harry here. Had Harry finally said he was done, and they did something to him? Where was Harry, and why was Hermione so unconcerned about all of that? They must have gotten to her as well.

"Mr Weasley, we are not done here yet," Rowena said behind him as Ron moved towards the doors. "It won't take much longer."

"I have to go," he repeated.

"Mr Weasley, that's imperative that you stay," she said. "It's for your own good."

"As it was for Harry's?" he shot back angrily. "What have you done to Harry?!"

He grabbed it by the handle but let it go just as quickly when his fingers stung. Not enough to hurt him, but enough.

"Oh dear Ecne," Rowena said, approaching him, "I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, that's a privacy charm. I'm not particularly fond of guests, and it would happen if…"

She stopped speaking and moving as Ron turned to her. He didn't know how he looked, but at first instinct – she got scared. Yes, Rowena was tall and adult, a fully competent witch. But the boy before her was taller and towering over her with such a look on his face that Rowena vividly remembered that she was just examining his compulsions. Compulsions she hadn't defined yet. Compulsions that might have made him more dangerous than an average fourteen-year-old. She instinctively clenched her fingers around the wand.

"Let me out!" the boy demanded, looking like a caged animal. And that was always dangerous. And she couldn't. She couldn't allow him to slip out and continue walking with all those compulsions on himself. That would be simply wrong.

"Mr Weasley," she said calmly and factually, "What you have experienced was only a privacy charm to prevent anyone from crossing those doors. For my privacy alone. It wasn't my intention to cause you any harm."

"Like I'd believe you," the boy snorted, and Rowena noticed his own hand squeezing in his pocket. "I shouldn't have come here in the first place. My mother was right. None of you should be trusted!"

His wand was out, and Rowena decided it was better to explain everything to a calm person, rid of compulsions, than an angry, scared, and manipulated teenager. She would be even ready to apologize, if necessary.

She swished her wand twice. The boy lost consciousness, and the second spell caught him and lowered him gently to the ground. If Rowena were to be honest, she preferred to work with unconscious subjects anyway.

---

Ron woke up on the surprisingly soft mattress. It felt like resting on the cloud. Comforting and so hugging that he wanted to stay in bed forever. He turned to his side, grunting softly at the fleeing sleep. The pillow was so pleasant to touch… and he was lying under something heavy, which only increased the feeling of being in a tight embrace. The foreignness of the situation got to him only after his brain woke up completely, and then, momentarily, he caught up with the situation and remembered the last thing: he was trying to escape Ravenclaw's study.

Ron sat up abruptly, alarmed, and in seconds, took his surroundings in. The dark, expensively furnished room was lit only in the furthest corner, where someone sat with a book.

"Harry!" he exclaimed.

"Hullo," Harry put the book away and smiled at Ron brightly. Yet, the small and dim lamp stood so close to him that Ron could clearly see the shades under his unhealthily sparkling eyes, the bright blush on his cheeks, standing out from the waxy complexion.

"You're sick," Ron noticed with something akin to surprise. And then swiftly added, "Where are we?"

"Long story," Harry laughed sheepishly, "It would be… a house of a friend's family member of a friend's family member, or a house of a friend of a friend, or… well… this manor. I've been here a lot this summer, though I can't say I wanted to stay here for a longer time. It's pretty… gaunt," he smiled as if at some kind of private joke. "Gloomy. And haunted by Tom, who is basically a dickhead, but it's his house, so I cannot really tell him to go away. But there's also Barty and Godric, and Helga drops by, so it's good enough to stay a couple of days. Anyway… How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," Ron admitted, because that was far more important than the rest of it. Harry apparently felt safe here, so Ron saw no reason to feel otherwise threatened. At least not immediately. "Is there a house elf here or something?"

"No house elves, but there's a kitchen," Harry closed his book and hid it in his pocket, but when he stood up, he didn't go for the doors but knelt on the floor and started hissing. Initially confused, Ron quickly understood, remembering Pretzel. The snake was so small that Ron barely noticed it sliding up Harry's sleeve.

"So it's like… some pureblood manor?" Ron asked with curiosity. Truth be told, he has never been in a pureblood manor before. Not the real one, Aunt Muriel's house didn't count. But this room looked like it could belong to one.

"Not really," Harry said. "It belonged to Tom's muggle father, and Tom only started to add magical bits recently. Snape would salivate seeing the laboratory in the basement. It's awesome, even I can say so. Though, I'm banned from entering, so I won't show it to you."

Ron moved after Harry, listening to his friend's explanations on the way down.

"We're in the attic. Tom is being passive-aggressive, so both of us have rooms for unwanted guests. He does that a lot. There are two more guest rooms in the attic; one is Barty's, and there's a larger part meant for servants. There are none here now, so they're empty, and he thinks himself gracious not to place us there. On the first floor, there are more rooms, a study, and a library. You don't want to enter most of them."

"Why? What's in them?" Ron asked with undisguised curiosity.

"Well… nothing special, to be honest. But Godric sleeps naked, and you don't want to walk at that. The doors to Tom's room are cursed, and you wanna experience that even less than seeing Godric's butt. Then Nagini treats every room as hers. You remember Nagini? She's super soft when you touch her. Bit cold to sleep with, but her scales are so nice to pet..."

Ron raised his eyebrows, briefly wondering if Harry fell in love or something.

"The maledictus?" he asked, discarding the ridiculous idea. She was pretty, for a snake. And she had been a woman. But still, ridiculous. "She's here?"

"Uhum, she's Tom's. So she treats every room as hers. She's usually too lazy to care or nice if she cares, but when you wake her up, she's really mean. But I'll show you the library, there are some normal books you actually might like to read. I'm reading something called Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and it's great. Muggle, but awesome. You've read Verne? I didn't before, but now I kinda wanna read more. But there are only two of his books in the library... But you're better than a book. Even if only for a couple of hours. Godric said he's taking you back to Hogwarts after you two talk, but I think I could talk him into letting you stay until the end of the weekend if you'd like."

Harry said it just like that, as if Ron wasn't fretting about asking when, or rather if, he was going to be let out.

"Oh, and the bathrooms are attached to every bedroom, but you also have some on the first and ground floor, like here," Harry pointed to the doors next to the stairs. "The ground floor is rather unused, to be honest. There are a lot of rooms that should be used to receive guests, but as far as I know, nobody uses them. Sometimes, the dining room. But Godric and Tom usually eat in the living room upstairs or the kitchen. I stay in the kitchen," Harry shrugged, leading Ron even lower, this time through a much narrower and less representative staircase. "So these are kitchen doors. I like them, they have a very nice, and comforting frame, don't you think? Next is the pantry, potion storage, and the laboratory. What do you wanna eat? Do you like burgers?"

Ron blinked at him in confusion. The whole monologue about the house sounded as if Harry was not a guest but one of the long-term occupants of the house. And even if he wasn't, he was here often enough to know it as if he was. Ron suddenly realised how much of Harry's life was now completely foreign to Ron. It was unpleasant. And he never realised Harry talked that much... It wasn't normal... was it?

"Um… What are burgers?" He asked, a little uncomfortable.

"Beef patty with buns and vegetables," Harry was already diving in the pantry. "Sort of like a sandwich but warm, and there's melted cheese, which is awesome. I'll make those. Godric loves them. But everybody likes melted cheese. It's the only thing I can agree on with Big D."

"Sounds good," Ron admitted, accepting two bowls and something wrapped in the napkin on top of them. He felt confused, quite honestly. He was confused because of everything that happened and was happening, as well as because he expected it to be threatening, but it wasn't, and because Harry acted so familiar and was so estranged at the same time. He didn't know Harry could cook. But he clearly could, as Ron soon observed, watching him fishing all kinds of utensils from drawers and cupboards without a miss.

The kitchen was weird, equipped with many things that were clearly muggle and connected to eclecticity, like a toaster (apparently, muggles made no more than four at the time) or coffee machine (which was weird because Mum always made coffee by simply pouring boiling water into the coffee) that made a lot of noise. And Harry told him that muggles used gas stoves, which sounded much more dangerous than just heating up the pans and pots with magic.

"So…" Ron said finally, observing how Harry put together a beef patty, sliced vegetables, buns, and cheese. "What happened to you? Couldn't Pomfrey help you?"

"Magical exhaustion," Harry said off-handedly, although he looked tense. "I had to… do something. Because… well, Rowena found some spells on me, and they're… not entirely good for me. So... I had to do something."

"Yeah, it's like… It tells me nothing, mate," Ron sighed. "Can't you just tell me?"

"Well…" Harry stopped for a moment. "I can. Though I don't think you'll believe me. So it's better if Godric tells you."

Ron sat on that for a moment, watching as Harry finished preparing their food. It looked delicious, and for a moment, Ron forgot about their conversation and dug in. It tasted delicious. Harry could cook. Wow. Ron never expected that. He actually thought about cooking in terms of women, but well... And burgers must have been muggle food, since neither his Mom made it, nor it was served in Hogwarts, and he never saw it anywhere.

But as soon as all the crumbs were out of the plates, Ron got back to the issue at hand quite bluntly.

"I'd rather you tell me," he decided.

And Harry told him.

Ron listened with his eyes wide open and his jaw dropping when Harry explained to him what his scar really was, what it meant, and what Godric and this Tom guy helped him do.

"You have a piece of your soul… out?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "Mate… That's bonkers."

"Yup," Harry nodded. "And we're waiting for Flamel to come here, and Rowena says he'll bring the elixir of life and that it'll probably help with the effects of all those spells."

"And it's all because of Dumbledore?" Ron raised his eyebrows. "But… but why?"

"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "Sal has a million different theories, and they often discuss it with Tom and Neville's gran, but…" Harry broke in the middle of the sentence, smiling at someone behind Ron's back.

"Hi Barty, how are you?" Harry asked merrily, and when Ron turned to look, he saw a pale man with a barely tamed mop of fair hair. He looked like someone who's been through a lot, yet his eyes shone with enthusiasm.

"Great!" He replied lightly. "Awesome. And you two? You must be Ron. I'm Barty, pleased to meet you. Heard a lot about you, and good things for that!"

"You shouldn't trust Harry," Ron replied, shaking the man's outstretched hand. The man's enthusiasm reminded him of Fred and George, but it was less malicious and more wild in some ways. Ron also noticed that he was younger than he initially thought. Probably a couple of years older than Bill.

"Oh, but it wasn't only Harry," the man laughed, "Master Slytherin has very high hopes for you. He says you're promising. And that's something."

Hearing that, Ron felt abashed, and he was certain that the tips of his ears reddened, but Barty's attention had already skipped to Harry.

"Feverish again, I see. Your potion, drink up. Have you finished transfiguration?"

"No…" Harry muttered, putting aside an empty vial.

"Why not? It's easy! Don't give me that look!"

"What look?"

"Of a poor child that wants to play and has to study. Transfiguration is fun! If you master transfiguring a hedgehog to a pincushion, I'll show you how to transfigure someone's head into a pumpkin. That gives a whole new meaning to 'pumpkin head', I tell you."

Harry chuckled but nodded.

"Deal," he agreed.

"Awesome. Just don't tell Helga I bribed you. It would put both of us in a bad light. Do you have any of those burgers left?"

Harry nodded and busied himself to prepare another burger, clearly enjoying the peculiar conversation. Ron, at first, didn't know what made it weird. He only noticed after another rapid change of topic. Barty seemed to lose interest in a topic quite fast. As soon as something was done with, he jumped further, but Ron didn't think it was because of a short attention span or forgetfulness. No, the man rather made an impression of someone who had no time for nonsense but was friendly nonetheless. And a little crazy. Maybe even more than a little. He didn't stay to eat in the kitchen, excusing himself to continue his work and reminding Harry about transfiguration.

"I'll do it tomorrow," Harry waved it off, "It's late. And it's not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon."

"Heard that," Barty said, looking back into the kitchen, "And Godric wants Ron in the living room, almost forgot."

He didn't wait for an answer and left. The door on the top of the stairs closed loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.

"Who is this guy, anyway?" Ron asked.

"He works with Tom. Recently, they have mostly been travelling and looking for ancient artefacts."

"Yeah, but where do they come from?" Ron didn't let go, because there was something about all of this that smelled fishy, and he was certain Harry wasn't telling everything he knew.

"Um…" Harry started but clearly didn't know what to say further.

"What? Is it a secret or something?" Ron wanted to know.

"Secret? No. Not a secret. Just… Dunno. I don't know what to tell you. Or maybe how. Or… I don't know, Ron. It's weird. All of that is weird. Can we talk about something else? How's Hogwarts? Dumbledore will kill me as soon as I come back…" He stood up quite abruptly and started gathering the plates and other dishes to the sink.

Ron observed him suddenly realising that whatever was going on, and whatever exactly were the spells that Dumbledore (if that was Dumbledore, and Harry seemed quite convinced) placed on Harry, something had messed his friend up. He suddenly looked devastated and Ron really wasn't the best person to help him through it. He'd like to, but whatever he could do?

For a moment, Ron observed his friend as he washed the dishes, silently saying something to his snake. Snake that apparently escaped the danger zone of getting wet, slithering up Harry's arm and picking out through his collar.

Things… changed.

"Maybe I'll make some tea?" He offered. Because Mum always made tea when somebody was upset.

"It's fine," Harry replied, plastering a small smile on his face. As fake as they went. "Let's go to the library. I'll show you the book. It's really great."

"Erm… And what about Gryffindor?" Ron asked. "This Barty guy said Gryffindor wanted to see me."

"Oh, right. Let's go. He must be upstairs."

---

Godric assessed both boys as they entered the living room. Ron looked confused and pensive, but otherwise fine. Which was good considering the conversation they were about to have. Harry looked awful. There were still traces of the magical exhaustion at his features, and even if he put on a happy face, his eyes and the whole demeanour screamed about sadness and suffering. It wasn't new. In the span of the last days, Goidric observed that Tommy's presence made Harry more aware of reality but also angry and more focused on Dumbledore and everything that befallen Harry because of the man. Therefore, he was turning away from the man, which was always followed by progressively worse dumps of his mood. On the other hand, his selective and highly concentrated attention made it easier to cheer him up.

"Catch," Godric said, throwing a chocolate frog at Harry. One of many resting in the bowl on the side table. Harry could have taken it himself, but it wouldn't change his focus so successfully. The excellence with which the boy caught the treat once again told Godric that Gryffindor's Quidditch team will have a hard time during their match with Hufflepuff. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't reflex? Maybe it was luck? Who could have known what Harry was actually like underneath all the enchantments?

"You almost got me," the boy laughed, his eyes sparkling with authentic joy. Ron seemed startled.

"I'll get you next time," Godric said lightly. "Run along, I'll talk with Ron."

"Yeah, 'bout that. Could he stay here until the end of the weekend? Maybe come back with you on Monday? Please?"

"If he wants to," Godric shrugged. "We'll get to that. Barty told me you aren't done with transfiguration yet. So better busy yourself with that for now."

"Tomorrow," Harry shrugged. He looked as if he intended to stay, but Godric didn't want that to happen. It would guarantee too high a concentration of his attention on Dumbledore, and probably worsen his state this evening or maybe in general. Godric worried. Because he cared. He hated seeing kids suffering for ill-doings of those who should care for them.

"Today," he said sternly. He observed as the boy rolled his eyes and looked for a good argument somewhere inside his head, but he threw another chocolate frog at him, so finally, Harry left with a little smile and groaning only for show.

Godric gestured for Ron to sit down and then closed the doors to warrant privacy for the duration of this conversation.

"A chocolate frog?" he asked.

Ron shrugged and took one from the bowl, assuming a little better position to take more in the future.

"I imagine you must be quite confused with everything that happened today," Godric said. "Do you remember everything that happened?"

Ron nodded.

"I guess so. Up to the point I wanted to leave Ravenclaw's study, but I couldn't… Then I woke up here. What did she do to me?"

"She stunned you," Gryffindor replied. "She couldn't really let you leave at this point."

"Why not?" Ron asked, annoyed. "I wanted to leave. What right did she have to keep me there?"

"She's not the best with people," Godric explained. "And she failed to explain to you why it was important for you to stay. Fortunately, she has a custom of calling for me if she needs help. So, I'd like to explain this to you, and I assume everything will be clear when I do. So that's what we can do now. But, if you want to go straight back to Hogwarts, I'll take you straight back to Hogwarts."

"So now I can leave?" Ron asked aggressively, "Why now and not then?"

"Harry told you why he's here, right?"

Ron nodded.

"What did he tell you? Not that I want to establish a common version of the story; he's just… distracted sometimes."

"I've noticed," Ron murmured, a little placated. "He told me he's under some spells that are all attached to his scar, and that make him act a certain way. Compulsions but not only. And that it can somehow kill him, so you and this Tom guy made him take a piece of his soul and put it in some figurine or something, so you could restore him back to life if he corks because of the curse or the spells, it wasn't very clear, honestly. But he said it's something you did and how you came back now, after all those years, so I guess he wasn't making that up, although it sounded like he was. But I couldn't ask him much because we were in the kitchen, and first came Barty, and then Harry started acting... weirder, and there wasn't much time."

Godric nodded.

"He shouldn't have told you about the soul," he said. "But well… what's done is done. I will ask you to keep everything to yourself anyway, but this information is particularly… delicate."

"Why? Cuz it's dark magic?" Ron's tone was confrontational, as was his whole demeanour, but Godric replied calmly.

"It's obscure, it can be dangerous, and it is considered dark magic now. Actually, it's considered the darkest and the most evil magic, as far as I know. But it's neither dark nor evil, at least in my books. However, dark magic is very much dependent on the definitions people use, and the modern definition is very broad. Are you interested in discussing definitions?" Godric looked at him doubtfully; his eyes begged not to go into the theoretical discussion, and Ron laughed awkwardly.

"Not really," he admitted.

"Oh, thank you, Morrigan," Godric sighed, relieved. "It's not really something I like to do for fun. And we have far more important things to talk about. Have Harry told you who put him under those spells?"

"He said it was Dumbledore," Ron's tone clearly indicated he doesn't believe that.

"And that's correct," Godric nodded. "Rowena confirmed that every spell has Dumbledore's magical signature on it. And we found it also on other people, including you."

"Me?" The boy laughed nervously. "What? Why would Dumbledore cast anything on me?"

"We think it was to influence Harry," Godric said heavily. "To steer him in the right direction. You were under compulsions, which made you hate and treat like a blood purist, everybody who is a pureblood or a Slytherin. Salazar noticed that you were unusually hateful towards your own house and that the sorting clearly was disturbing for you. That's why he asked Rowena to test you, and she confirmed his suspicion."

"Or maybe you put compulsions on me to like Slytherins?" Ron asked bluntly and more mockingly added, "Or am I suddenly going to die?"

"Neither. Sorry to tell you that, but you are not as important to Dumbledore as Harry is to condition your obedience and punish disobedience with death. And as far as we're concerned, you may continue to hate Slytherins and purebloods for as long as you do it out of your own will. That's why you are free to go now. Rowena took the compulsions off."

Ron did not answer, and Godric didn't press him to talk. He simply observed as the boy's face changed under the influence of his thoughts and emotions. He waited. Ate a chocolate frog. Continued to wait, allowing the boy to think.

"I can't," Ron choked out finally, "It's too much, I… How do I even know you're telling the truth?!"

"I can make an oath," Gryffindor offered. "Are you familiar with magical oaths?"

Ron nodded in confirmation. As Gryffindor spoke the next words, his hand slid towards the pommel of his sword.

"I hereby swear on my magic and sword that I have not lied to you today during this conversation," he announced.

"I accept your oath and call you upon it," Ron replied and looked surprised by the result. However, he caught on to the wording. "Today during this conversation?" he asked pointedly, and Godric replied with a laugh.

"You know, boy, I have no idea if I ever lied to you before. Better safe than sorry," he winked at Ron. "If you notice someone who can be under the influence of compulsions, just like you are... tell us, okay? Better safe than sorry."

"How do I know for certain, that you won't add anything from yourself, after removing what Dumbledore has done?" Ron asked a very good question, which made Godric smile. Sal was right about the boy.

"If you wish, you may watch one or two of those procedures. Just to see what's going on. It's boring for the most part, but you've slept through the best part."

"Seriously? You'd let me watch?"

"Yeah, why not? You can be sure how it goes then. We haven't had to stun anybody up to now, and you missed your own, so it's only fair. Would you like to?"

"Sure I would!"

"I'll tell Rowena and ask you when we find someone... Though I must warn you, that if this person won't agree, we won't call you to watch. Sometimes those people would prefer to keep such things for themselves. You surely understand," Godric said, and smiled, as Ron confirmed with a solemn nod. "So… do you have any other questions? No? As you wish. If anything comes to mind, you may ask me, Sal, Helga, or Rowena. Do not talk about any of this with anybody. Do I have to ask you for an oath?"

"I won't betray Harry," the boy replied, sounding offended.

"Yes, but you may want to talk to your parents, for example. And I'd prefer if you wouldn't. They could pass that on to Dumbledore, and that is something we really don't like to happen."

Godric made sure to pass all the seriousness of the issue onto the boy, and watched intently as Ron thought about his words. And the thoughts behind those blue eyes must have been intensive and fast, judging by the crest between the boy's eyebrows, concentration written all over his face, and tension in his posture.

"Fine," he said finally, decisively, "I hereby swear on my family name and honour not to discuss the matters of spells or curses cast on myself or Harry Potter by Albus Dumbledore with anybody except for people who already know about them until Harry Potter or Godric Gryffindor release me from my oath."

For a moment, Godric couldn't find appropriate words. As for a fourteen-year-old boy, it was a very well thought and very well-worded oath. Yes, he himself would choose different words and would be more precise, but he would also swear on something much more painful to lose. And, after all, he didn't expect to hear an oath. He also pondered for the moment whether he should accept it, but decided against letting it hang in the void, unfulfilled, out of respect for the boy and not because he didn't trust the intention behind the words.

"I accept your oath," he said with all seriousness of the moment.

---

Ron hasn't seen Harry that evening. Godric took him upstairs and asked him to rest for the night, and then knocked and disappeared into Harry's room. Ron didn't understand everything that was happening in this house or with Harry, but after today's conversation, he was quite certain that he could trust Gryffindor. And not because he was Gryffindor, but because he was trustworthy. Ron also used the offered Dreamless Sleep potion, but mostly to escape his own thoughts. There were too many of them, and Dad always told him that everything looked better after a good night's sleep.

---

It was weird to be out of Hogwarts at this time of year, as much as it was weird to sit in a Hogwarts uniform outside Hogwarts. But those two things were the least weird things Ron was about to observe this Sunday. Sunday that would bemuse him even more in the future.

He woke up late for the school year, but early for a day spent besides Hogwarts. In the beautiful bed, in the astonishing room, much larger and much more luxurious than his own. Almost instantly, Ron discovered that he liked that. A lot. It wasn't just a matter of dissatisfaction and shame of his family's poverty; it was that he truly wanted an infinitely more splendid life than the one he had. Having his origins he could appreciate those things much more than people like Malfoy's. And it would be unfair if only bad person could enjoy those silky sheets. You can still do good things after a night of comfort and luxury. Heck, you could argue that's equalizing opportunities.

Of course, he saw how old everything here was, how neglected and worn. He saw the spiderwebs in the corners, the scratches on the dark wood, and the dirty smudges obstructing the sunlight. The room and the whole house were dim and grim, but being raised by Molly Weasley, Ron knew perfectly well how things changed when cleaned. Not that he liked to clean, mind you.

This dusted splendour was enough to wake Ron up to a dream of having something equally nice in the future. Or better. He wanted to see the faces of his friends, family, and Draco Malfoy when he invited them in. He would invite Draco Malfoy solely to show him that Weasley could have something better than Malfoy, and not inherited, but earned, and therefore even more precious.

He thought it all in front of the tall mirror, stuffing his shirt under the belt. He put on the tie, although loosely, and a robe because the house was not warm enough to parade in a shirt alone. And only walking away, he noticed the green and silver applications, the Slytherin's crest… He looked at them for a long time, coming even closer to the mirror and caressing the fabric. It was a used robe. A little disgusting, even if Ron was used to never having new clothes. This one was a little jagged from stomping on it by the previous owner and still stretched to fit Ron's tall frame. The magical resizing was imperceptible while made once or twice, but after a third time, it became visible when the clothes seemed off, thinner than originally, more prone to ripping and not necessarily along the stitches

Robe he wore now, already started to develop holes at the elbows. Ron hated it. He hated it even more after comparing it to the clothes he'd seen in his dormitory. Especially Zabini's, who tended to wear tailored clothes that would look expensive, even if one would toss them on the floor. Although Zabini never did that.

Ron's stomach grumbled. It was time to find Harry and eat something. But Harry was not in his room and nowhere on Ron's way to the kitchen. Kitchen that was empty and as silent as the rest of the house. Each time Ron opened a drawer, the sound was so prominent as a scream, intensifying Ron's timidity in moving freely around this strange house. Fighting with a stove, Ron decided to add a house elf to his future home. And then, made it three. He didn't exactly know why, but three sounded much better than just one.

Having bacon and eggs on the pan, Ron leaned carefully towards the coffee machine but quickly decided that he'd be better off with normal tea. He didn't like coffee that much, after all.

"Good morning!"

Ron almost jumped when Gryffindor's merry voice boomed in the kitchen. But his sight was even more surprising than his sudden appearance. The Hogwarts founder looked plain muggle. His red hair was neatly tied back, and he wore something that Ron often saw on running muggles when he wandered too far from the Burrow. Some kind of grey, soft pants and a hoodie with wide white stripes running across the chest. It was so unmagical that Ron had to blink to process it.

"Good morning," he finally managed.

"I've brought bread," Gryffindor announced enthusiastically, placing a shopping bag on the counter. "They have a bakery in Little Hangleton, which is the town down the hill, and I've never even imagined that you could have so many different types of bread in so many different tastes before I woke up at this time. Go on, pick something for your breakfast. Just don't eat all the croissants. Barty insists on adding some jam, but I honestly think it only spoils them. Have you slept well?"

"Erm… yeah, I did. Thanks for the potion," Ron replied, already accustomed to Gryffindor's peculiar attire. "And the bread. There was nothing around."

"Of course not. I always bring fresh on my way back in the morning. Even if I later have breakfast with you in Hogwarts," he said, turning on the coffee machine and taking out the biggest mug Ron had seen in one of the cupboards. Then, Gryffindor turned the eggs and bacon, which Ron completely forgot about.

"Where is everybody?" Ron asked to mask his embarrassment. Even if he never claimed to know how to cook, especially in such a muggle kitchen, he should have remembered.

"Tommy and Harry probably still torment each other, and Barty's in Badgers Keep, preparing it for Mabon celebrations. There's a lot to be done and only one Barty to do it… Have you ever been in Badgers Keep?"

Ron shook his head.

"Nice place. And where do you live?"

"The Burrow," Ron muttered, not really enthusiastic to speak about his home.

"Literal one?" Godric asked teasingly.

"Nah, it's just the name," Ron smiled despite his reluctance. "It's… just a bunch of rooms stuck together only thanks to magic. I swear that one day it'll fall apart."

The man hummed and sat down at the table with his coffee and a plate of croissants. He was clearly delighted with his breakfast. Ron didn't mind a little silence as he dug into his own breakfast. Especially since it soon became comfortable, and Gryffindor opened the paper. Not the Daily Prophet or something smarter, but the Quidditch magazine. Ron peaked discreetly, noticing the bright orange banner of Chudley Cannons, but he couldn't read under this angle.

"What is there about Cannons?" he asked.

"Fell out of eliminations to represent England in the British Home Championship," Godric replied. "Your team?"

"Yeah…" Ron sighed heavily. "They were great, you know?"

"Sometimes being great once upon a time makes you unable to rise to new greatness," Godric nodded slowly over the paper. "Judging by what they write here… Look, they write, 'Gudgeon looked like he wouldn't even try to catch the snitch, and that was the top performance of the team's players,' they clearly lack heart, and it's hard to have a heart if you have years of failure behind the belt… How's Slytherin's team, by the way?"

"Like I'm telling you," Ron outright laughed, and Godric grinned, hearing his response.

"Hoping for the victory?" he asked.

"That's why I joined the team, to prove I can play. I'll prove nothing if we lose."

"Flying snakes, who would have thought," Godric said bitingly.

"Like anyone ever saw flying lions," Ron replied… and blinked, suddenly falling quiet because there was no… hatred he was used to. No disgust. What's more, he hasn't felt it since he woke up! He was a Slytherin; that was a fact, and that's all. He wasn't all that happy about that, but he had no intuitive thoughts of sabotaging Slytherin's team for the benefit of Gryffindor, nor… there was nothing except disappointment that he was no longer a Gryffindor.

Ron stopped eating as the realisation settled.

Godric let him do his own musings and again focused on the magazine. Ron completely missed a small smile hidden in Gryffindor's beard.

---

It was about half an hour later when Ron finished washing dishes, and Gryffindor finished the third cup of coffee when they heard a loud sound of doors opening so abruptly and with so much force that they must have hit the wall. It was followed by angry shouting, and even if the words were indistinguishable, Ron clearly recognised Harry's voice.

"Looks like my break is over," Gryffindor smiled at Ron, standing up. As he did so and walked towards the doors, his clothes transfigured gradually, and the man left already dressed in a thick, dark robe, and his previously soft and quiet muggle shoes started thumping as they gained weight of leather, wood and metal buckles. Ron followed him, keeping a safe distance.

The closer he got, the clearer it became that Harry's voice was not only sharp with rage but also broken by a teary note.

"You did! You did, and you may say that you didn't, but it's bullshit, and we both know it!" Harry shouted.

"I did?" the replying voice was no less enraged. "I did nothing of the sort! Nothing! You're delusional or plain insane, child!"

"I'm not! I saw it! I know what I saw!"

Ron stopped close enough to hear and watch everything, so he saw how furious Harry was, his face wet from tears of anger and frustration. And he saw the other person, a man around Bill's age, gaunt and sickly but somehow intimidating anyway, especially when emanating righteous anger and indignation.

Gryffindor came closer.

"What happened this time?" he asked, as if it wasn't something unusual.

"He's lying!" Harry screamed. "But I should have expected that from this…" he broke off under the gaze of the man standing opposite him.

"What?" he asked threateningly. "Finish! Or are you a coward?"

"Dickhead!" Harry spat.

"Are you five, combined?" asked Godric, raising a joint indignation. "What happened?"

"Nagini was sitting with me because she wanted to," Harry said pointedly, "Because I'm warm and cuddly and not cold and bony, and she likes me better. And he was trying to lure her with mice!"

Hearing the explanation Ron had to try very, very hard to hold back laughter. He was almost certain that one of his ribs broke in the process.

"I did no such thing," the man almost hissed in response.

"I'm certain you didn't fall so low," Godric assured him, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "And I'm quite certain you'll see it more clearly after taking your potion. And I'll take Harry so you can work in peace. He will surely want to spend some time with Ron, wouldn't you, Harry?"

"Ron?" Harry seemed utterly surprised. Ron saw the moment in which his face changed, the anger forgotten, replaced by undiluted excitement. "Awesome!" And he ended the sentence with a long stream of hissing sounds. Those and Nagini emerging from the room seemed to enrage the man standing on the threshold, but Godric handed him a vial of pearly blue potion.

The man seethed with barely contained emotions, and as soon as the tip of Nagini's tail was out in the corridor, he slammed the doors with such force that the picture hanging next to Ron shook and tilted.

Harry was cooing to Nagini in Parseltongue, clearly happy with the result, and helping her rest comfortably on his thin arms, seemingly delighted to pet her scales. When he kissed the top of the triangle head, Ron blinked a couple of times, trying to understand whether he saw everything correctly.

"Go to the living room. I'll send Ron in a second," Godric nudged Harry. And Harry replied in Parseltongue and went away.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked, coming a little closer. "He never acted this way."

"I'm not an expert," Godric admitted, "But he ignores some parts of reality. Imagine that your mind is a garden. You know it very well, and even if you don't look, you know what's out of your sight, and you see everything in the direction you look in. Harry's garden is now completely dark, and he isn't aware of anything around him besides a little lit spot, which he is currently paying attention to. This is part of the precaution. If he were led away from Dumbledore, as it happened, but kept in close proximity to Dumbledore, his mind would focus on Dumbledore and forget what was said or done to prove that Dumbledore is untrustworthy. This way, Dumbledore could lead him back on the… let's say 'the right track.' Fortunately for us, Dumbledore doesn't know how far from him we led Harry, and he didn't intervene. Unfortunately, we don't know how to cure Harry. But we will find a way. And we hope that as soon as Nicolas arrives, he'll give Harry the elixir of life, which will reverse the results to somewhere neutral."

"Bloody hell…" Ron muttered, looking ahead at the doors behind which Harry disappeared. "So… he's… nuts?"

"You may treat it this way," Godric shrugged. "But it won't last forever. We don't think it's changing Harry; it just influences how he thinks and functions."

"And… Why did it happen now?" Ron asked with disbelief.

"Now?" Godric raised his eyebrows. "It has happened slowly since the end of July. We just found the cause, and… I think we made it worse in the process. But it was already pretty bad a week ago."

Ron didn't answer. Because the thought ringing in his head was, 'And you didn't notice!'

---

Ron sat with Harry and listened to his chatter, trying to understand how he had missed the change in his friend. When they sat together, it drew much less attention. No more than a day before. Harry seemed to be just intensely engaged in what he was doing and spoke weird things. That wouldn't be outright noticeable during the normal school day. He would just seem pensive or engaged during breaks and fully concentrate while in class. Add to that supposed lack of sleep to explain distraction, and everything would seem perfectly normal and explainable, if a little weird, out of character, or childish.

But Ron should have noticed. After all, he was Harry's friend, even if they didn't share a dormitory. It wasn't surprising that Crabe or Goyle missed anything; they hardly knew Harry, and Ron seriously doubted whether they were able to make any necessary observations.

But Ron should have noticed.

Why didn't he?

And what else did he miss?

Harry again switched to Parseltongue because he talked to Ron, but concentrated on Nagini and Pretzel, and Ron drifted deep into his thoughts.

He couldn't grasp everything at once, but he thought of the most prominent events since the beginning of September. The resorting, meetings with Slytherin, interaction with Hermione, Harry, Fred, George, Ginny, and Percy, with his dorm mates, the letter from his mother, and the matter of compulsions. And Malfoy.

He often couldn't understand his own reactions.

Why was he so cruel to Malfoy? Malfoy was a dick, but he just lost his father, for Merlin's sake! And Ron told him that it was good. He felt like an arse… And to think that he should (not that he would) apologise to Malfoy…

Why was he so angry with Hermione? She simply adjusted to her resorting, found new friends, and seemed to be happy. The same as his brothers and sister. They just went on, accepting the fact that they had been resorted and actually found their place in the new house. Ron couldn't. Ron was under the influence of compulsions. It sounded equally like an excuse and like being a victim, and Ron felt horrible with both explanations.

And his dorm mates? The other Slytherins? They didn't do anything to start the hostility with Ron. Ron did. And thinking about his behaviour… he was just so unhappy through those weeks that he expected everyone else to suffer. And when they didn't, he tried to infect everybody around with his own misery.

While recalling the letter from his Mum, he wondered if she maybe was under the influence of compulsions as well. Or did she really think that there was something wrong with them? He had trouble recalling everything she wrote, but he decided to find and re-read the letter with a clear mind.

Finally, there was Slytherin. His behaviour was contradictory to what Ron thought of Slytherins, and his words were incompatible with Mum's. He was... Slytherin was... Well...

Slowly, Ron was starting to develop a headache, and he was glad when Barty came into the room, disrupting Ron's thoughts.

"Hi, kid!" He smiled broadly. "Wanna join us and learn how to make a literal pumpkin head?"

---

Ron was pensive the whole day through. Thoughts of the recent weeks, events of the recent years, swam in his head back and forth, as he wondered: was it I or compulsions? Yet the happenings of the day kept him out of diving too deep and brooding.

He saw the Tom-guy once more, and it was weird, as this time the man was cold as ice, and when Harry snapped at him once or twice, it seemed to make no impression, which – in turn – cooled down Harry's irritation.

Harry constantly made weird things, but Ron's bemusement was lower each time, even if hiding his amusement got more and more difficult. After all, it was hard not to laugh when Harry spent half an hour explaining himself to Godric and apologizing for no longer being a Gryffindor and assuring Godric that he liked him nonetheless and thought very highly of Gryffindors and won so many matches for Gryffindor, against Hufflepuff as well and that he really didn't mean to lose so many points. Godric, in turn, treated Harry with whole seriousness, and only his eyes sparkled, and his beard shook sometimes. He tried to divert Harry's attention, but – apparently – Harry was adamant about making everything clear.

What broke the situation was Barty, who just finished checking Harry's potions homework. He wasn't impressed. That – in turn – gave them an hour-long lecture about the properties of jewelweed. Admittedly, Ron was prone to drift off, but he forced himself to listen. After all, that took off his back the necessity of going through a couple of books. Barty seemed to have memorised the entirety of Hogwarts library. Ravenclaws.

And Ron was now proficient in turning heads into pumpkins, although Barty warned them that leaving the head transfigured for too long could lead to brain damage or death. Ron had to admit that after having his own head turned for the tenth time, he felt rather lightheaded.

Late in the evening, they descended to the kitchen for dinner. Chopping carrots for the shepherd's pie, Ron thought that it was a shame he couldn't stay longer. Coming back to Hogwarts would mean a lot of unpleasant things. Mostly his own guilt over what he did during the last weeks… He wouldn't be surprised if Hermione were angry at him after Friday… Damn…

"Look, mashed potatoes are best if you mix them with butter and milk or cream or something that will make them more like mashed potatoes are supposed to be," argued Harry, "I don't know why you protest the butter, really."

"Butter is mostly saturated fat; it's really bad for your health. Do you think it would be fun to be able to live to two or three hundred years, or even longer, but drop dead in your fifties because of butter?" Barty asked fervently. Apparently, he wasn't against sinking into pointless discussions with Harry.

"It has loads of vitamins," Harry replied, intently focused, his brows furrowed. "It was… it was… A, B12, E, and K. And vitamin A…"

Godric seemed to be fascinated by all that was said and quick to ask what the vitamins were. That got it to the right point for Ron, who only heard the name once or twice when Hermione was lecturing them in the Great Hall. But Ron never listened then, mostly because he thought that was some muggle shit that didn't apply to wizards, like all their sicknesses.

When the shepherd's pie was in the oven, Barty changed the discussion to nutrition potions, which were just proved to provide all the vitamins needed, to what Godric wanted to know if there's a potion to rid of all this bad fat (which seemed to scare him for some reason that Ron didn't understand).

"Is it going to be much longer?" Ron asked, his stomach grumbling.

"Just a couple of minutes," Barty assured him. "Harry, would you tell… Tom, that there's dinner."

"Why me?" Harry furrowed. "Go yourself."

"Harry is not a good idea," Godric agreed, "Go, Barty."

Barty squirmed in his seat, clearly not comfortable with the idea.

"Do I have to? I'm not really… good at telling him there's something he should do."

"Like come to dinner?" Ron raised his eyebrows. "Don't be absurd. What is he going to do? Glare at you?"

"Settled," Godric grinned. "Go fetch Tommy, Ron."

"And why not you?" Ron shot back but stood up.

"I have the seniority, and seniority comes with privileges. One of them is not having to run up and down the stairs to fetch overly studious, grumpy boys."

Run huffed out a laugh and left the kitchen. It didn't take him long to identify appropriate doors on the first floor. After all, it was the exact same spot where Harry had made a scene that morning. Ron stuck his head inside, glancing at the messy study overflowing with books, scrolls, and notes. But what was the most prominent thing in the room was a transparent bowl of energy, capturing the strands of light. They wired and fought to escape, although at such a snail's pace that it was very unlikely that they would be able to free themselves.

The Tom-guy stood beside it with his wand out and furrowed brows, looking at the long parchment. It hung midair along with an inkwell and a madly scribbling quill.

Ron looked at it with curiosity, coming closer, and softly closing the doors behind himself. It was this sound that tore the man away from runes on the parchment.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, looking at Ron with such disbelief that it would be unthinkable for someone to enter.

"Came to let you know dinner is ready," Ron said, staring at the strands of light. "What is that?"

"Your compulsions. Extracted and forced into observable form. And if you don't wish to become a host for another, you will never again enter my presence without invitation."

Ron only rolled his eyes at the statement, coming even closer.

"They look awesome. I didn't know you could do that… What happens if I touch them?"

"You won't. They are enclosed. And I am occupied and not in the mood to lecture an ignorant child. Potter can bring me food in an hour. I need him here anyway."

"Why?" Ron wanted to know.

"Excuse me?"

Apparently, the guy was so full of himself that he expected Ron to just go and pass the word. And what? Maybe he was to bow on his way out? Merlin…

"Why won't you just get down like a normal person, eat dinner, and then ask Harry to come here for whatever you need him? And why is that when we're at it?"

"Because I want to look at his brain as I look now at your compulsions," the man hissed in response. "Now, leave. And tell Potter to be here in an hour. I will not repeat myself again."

"Merlin, you're touchy," Ron again rolled his eyes but decided to leave. He was normal and hoped the food was already out of the oven. Or better: on the plate. And the guy was clenching his wand so hard his knuckles went white, so it seemed a safer option anyway. "You have some serious anger issues, mate," he added just before closing the doors.

Not minding it any longer, Ron went downstairs quickly, lured by amazing smells and a grumbling stomach. He was surprised when everyone turned to look at him with visible curiosity.

"What?" he asked, aiming straight to the plate.

"Ah, we just wondered if he'll come," Godric replied lightly. "What did he say?"

"That Harry can fetch him food in an hour cuz he'll need him there for something. Actually, why does he need you, mate?" he asked Harry, just before stuffing his mouth with a fork full of Shepard's pie.

"He's trying to find out how to remove whatever I have in my head. And he's trying to do it faster than Rowena," Harry replied, "Honestly, he can't shut up about how annoying she is."

"Because she is," Godric agreed. "If she's an expert in something, she hates for anyone to be better or to know more. Tommy wants to be better than everybody else in everything. So you see the problem."

His comment evoked a common amusement, although Barty seemed reluctant to laugh for some reason.

"Why do you eat your pie with a spoon?" Ron wanted to know, observing Godric. To his surprise, Godric suddenly stopped eating and furrowed at him.

"Don't go all proper pureblood at me, boy," he said with a clear warning in his tone. "I'm going to eat how I like, and that's one of the few reasons why I prefer this dreary place to the luxuries of Augusta's house."

Ron goggled at him in disbelief. Proper pureblood? Him? It apparently was very amusing, because Harry erupted in laughter.

"Pro-proper pureblood," he repeated, "C'mon, nobody has worse table manners than Ron. My aunt would have a stroke seeing that, not to mention any proper pureblood."

"Oi! I'm not so bad!" Ron protested, but that only further amused Harry, and Barty stopped holding back as well.

"You are, kid," he said.

"And I don't mean that you hold your cutlery in your fist, Ron," Harry added, calmer. "Or that you put your elbows on the table. That would be common-bad. Ron-bad is stuffing your mouth to the brim, not closing your mouth while chewing, talking with your mouth full, laughing and spitting food all around… I literally saw you cramming food into your mouth with your fingers the other day to fit even more. I love you too much to care, but it's disgusting, mate."

Ron felt how the heat spread from his face to his neck and ears. So it wasn't the matter of stiff Slytherin's? Even Harry thought so? But he thought…

Godric cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"To answer your question, I use a spoon because I'm used to using a knife and spoon. Forks are a more recent invention, and I don't see how they are better. But every time has its rules… And some are pointless. Like eating sandwiches with a fork…"

"I don't know… Have you ever got food poisoning from eating sandwiches with a fork?" asked Barty, shrugging.

"But you don't get food poisoning because you eat with your hands, but because you haven't washed your hands," noted Harry.

"You just have weak stomachs," concluded Godric.

"It's icky not to wash your hands before eating, no matter the stomach," argued Harry. That caused Ron to roll his eyes.

"It never bothers you at Hogwarts," he said.

"It did, but since Hermione taught us emundarus, it doesn't."

"What?" Ron asked in surprise. "Hermione taught us what? When?"

"First year, just after Halloween," Harry replied, visibly confused. "For eating, herbology, potions, ink stains? Everything. Or maybe you knew it before. Anyway, I didn't. And it's awesome during potions. I hate having my hands in all that goo."

"Yeah…" Ron nodded, again feeling his face heat up. "Of course, I knew it, emundus. Everyone knows that. So, you see, fork, no fork, you can eat sandwiches with your hands no matter the stomach."

"If you're not in the company of Augusta," said Godric, hiding his amusement. "Leave the dishes, Barty. Tommy didn't bother to cook. He can clean up."

"Em… yes… you know, I really don't mind. It's actually quite fun…" Barty muttered, still gathering the plates. "So much time to think and plan. It's a very creative task."

"Are you in love with the guy or something?" Ron asked. "He's not so high and mighty to be above washing dishes."

Barty replied with a nervous laughter.

"No, just… you know… he has so many things on his mind. I wouldn't dare to disturb him with such a task…"

"Leave it, Barty. Anybody up for a game of chess?"

That picked up Ron's attention. He still teased Barty about his weird attitude towards Tom-guy, but they moved upstairs. Godric and Ron played while Barty tried to explain to Harry the difference between summoning and collecting charms for the charm's essay. Ron listened with one ear, fishing for something he could use in his own homework. But everything stopped when every single book on magic in the vicinity tried to reach Harry's outstretched hand. At first, they tried to arrange themselves neatly, but as soon as they started lacking a place – they simply bombarded him with all their edges and covers.

"Finite! Finite!" Barty started shouting, but the spell worked only on some of the books, while the rest kept coming, Godric chuckled, Ron laughed, Harry kept saying "I'm sorry," "I didn't know," and "Ouch!" and all that lasted until the doors banged open.

Tom-I-have-anger-issues looked pissed again, and Ron wondered what is his problem, and has he gone nuts just as Harry did. On the other hand, Barty looked really scared just because Tom-to-important-to-wash-the-dishes looked at him, and Godric stopped laughing.

"We'll clean that up," he assured.

"And my office?" hissed the man. "And every other room in the manor, I presume?"

"It was just a mistake," Harry said apologetically. "I didn't mean to, it just happened…"

"Magic doesn't just happen. You control it. And that is why I told you that you won't get anywhere further than embarrassing all of us if you don't work hard to deserve your power. Right now you're only an incompetent, ignorant…"

"I think that's enough, Tommy," Gryffindor sounded sharp. The sharpest Ron ever heard him. But clearly did nothing in this situation.

"He destroyed Blane's manuscript on experimental charms! It was an original! Handwritten! And he did it because he doesn't care to work on his power!"

"He was working on…"

"He didn't even read the theory! If he would, he'd know that you need to be exceptionally precise, or this would be the exact result! If he had read anything about magical cores, he'd know that the magical exhaustion of the immature core can lead to its rapid expansion, and he'd know how careful he should be with his spells! But he's an ignorant fool who doesn't think!"

"He's fourteen, Tommy," Godric replied calmly. "And I heard it. He didn't even make a wand movement; it shouldn't have happened. But it happens. Because sometimes magic just happens."

"It didn't just happen!" Tom screamed back. "Will, intention, power, that is what matters when it comes to casting spells. Wand is secondary. Incantation is secondary. And this child doesn't deserve his own power!"

"You're just jealous," Harry said, crossing his arms on his chest.

And that was the worst possible thing he could have said.

"I'm what?" Tom hissed at him, approaching slowly.

"Jealous," Harry repeated, and Ron had no idea why he did it because – to be entirely honest – Ron wouldn't do it standing where Harry stood. The Tom-guy looked terrifying. But Harry was Harry, so he added, "Want me to spell it for you? J-e-a…"

He didn't stop, but the spell hit him, and all the sound evaporated. He stopped only when Tom leaned over and spoke something to Harry so quietly that Ron couldn't hear it, but Harry's eyes grew, and then he frowned.

"If any of you gives him back his voice before he organises the whole fucking library alphabetically and fixes Blane's manuscript, I'll skin him and rewrite the manuscript on the parchment of his skin," Tom declared.

"So Helga could add a second tome out of yours?" Godric asked, raising his eyebrows. "We'll clean it and fix your book. And he can remain silent until then. You have dinner in the kitchen."

"I don't care about dinner," the man replied. "I have a theory, and I need Potter to verify it. Come, brat."

Harry said something that wasn't heard but quite clearly was a protest, and it looked kind of amusing. But Ron didn't know how it all ended because Godric led Harry and Tom outside. Judging by the noise, the fight continued. Who was this guy, seriously?

However, the library remained quiet as Ron observed Barty, who started organising the books alphabetically without a word.

Ron thought that this house was a loony bin. But he still preferred this to what thoughts awaited him at Hogwarts. To look everybody in the eyes with awareness of how unjustified his behaviour was, and how unfair he was towards people who gave him no ground for such behaviour Merlin, he feared everything, from meeting with Salazar Slytherin, to the simplest lunch with his housemates.