《Castling the Long Way (Ron Weasley Insert)》


 Chapter 1

    Something clattered loudly above my head, yanking me abruptly from sleep into reality, making me jump up in bed in shock and listen intently. The ghoul in the attic groaned mournfully a couple of times and let out a high-pitched wail, but then silence returned. It wasn''t even dawn yet¡ªnight still clung to the sky, only just beginning to fade.


    Muffled whispers and hushed arguments came from behind the door, along with soft footsteps and the creaking of stairs¡ªthe restless twins couldn''t sleep again. No doubt they had come up with another prank in the middle of the night, and their impatience wouldn¡¯t allow them to wait until morning.


    Grumbling under my breath, I fumbled for the alarm clock in the dark.


    "Ten minutes to five," it mumbled groggily as I picked it up, its eyes still closed. "You¡¯ve got plenty of time to sleep¡­¡±


    I placed the clock back on the nightstand and collapsed onto the pillow with a groan, glaring at the ceiling in frustration, mentally cursing that red-haired duo in every way possible. Damn tinkerers.


    Finally, the wave of anger subsided, and the quiet and darkness took over. I drifted back to sleep, only to be startled awake again¡ªthis time by a loud crash, a woman''s scream, and shouting quickly followed by angry scolding. Mum Molly had evidently caught the boys red-handed and was now giving them a talking-to. Such wake-up calls weren''t rare in our family, happening at least once a month, or even more often if the twins entered one of their "creative frenzies."


    I glanced at the still-snoozing alarm clock and groaned¡ªit was five minutes to five. I hadn¡¯t even managed an hour of sleep. The urge to scream profanities and bang my head against the wall was overwhelming. Frustrated to the extreme, I jumped out of bed and walked to the window, peering out at the milky mist creeping between the bare trees¡ªsometimes the Channel blesses us with morning fogs when the weather shifts. Normally, this eerie view would calm me, but today, this sticky grayness only added to my irritation.


    Meanwhile, downstairs, a male voice had joined in¡ªArthur had stepped in to mediate and shifted his wife''s fury onto himself. The twins would now be able to sneak back into their room unnoticed, while the adults would continue their quarrel in the kitchen. Poor Arthur, always the willing lightning rod for his wife''s temper. It''s a wonder he''s still alive, given her fiery temperament.


    Sure enough, after ten minutes, the argument died down. I could try to sleep again, but there wasn¡¯t a trace of drowsiness left.


    Still, I hurried back to bed. Experience told me that Mum Molly would soon come around to check on everyone, and I had no desire to deal with her overbearing care and the inevitable sleepytime potion. Arguing with that woman, especially while she was still wound up from the fight, was more trouble than it was worth. It¡¯d be easier to face an angry rhinoceros¡ªor better yet, to pretend.


    And sure enough, I barely had time to turn toward the wall and throw the blanket over myself before the top stair creaked under a heavy step, and the door quietly opened.


    I quickly shut my eyes, evened my breathing, and feigned a deep, peaceful sleep. She came closer, stood by the bed, listened, adjusted the blanket, and lingered for a moment. Before leaving, she adjusted the blanket again, sighed sadly, and quietly left the room to check on the other children.


    I exhaled in relief, stretched out on the bed, and stared mindlessly at the dark ceiling. The nervous tension from earlier had faded, and even the anger had subsided. It¡¯s terrible when you¡¯re only seven, no one takes you seriously, and you¡¯re stuck with an overbearing mother and mischievous older brothers who you won¡¯t be able to beat up for at least five more years. It¡¯s been enough time to come to terms with it, but I still haven¡¯t gotten used to this new family, nor have I found my place in this house.


    I ended up in this body six months ago. In the body of Ron Weasley from a children''s story. I eventually came to terms with the idea, albeit not without internal protest and doubts about my sanity. But the thought that I was inside a book still filled me with mild bewilderment. And as for magic, well, I wasn¡¯t fully convinced of its reality, even though I saw it every day from morning till night. My old rational mind just couldn¡¯t accept all these magical things. Frankly, I wouldn¡¯t wish this situation on anyone.


    The first of those six months, I spent in St. Mungo¡¯s¡ªI had plenty of time to adjust and come to terms with my situation. The twins had fed Ron one of their latest creations¡ªan experimental acid fizz candy. The dubious treat not only burned a hole the size of a Snitch in his tongue but also severely affected his nervous system. The boy ended up paralyzed from a reaction to one of the ingredients. Apparently, an allergy is what did him in, and I woke up unexpectedly in his young body.


    I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t speak, could only move my eyes. So, my cries for help, attempts to explain, and to reach out to others went unheard. And honestly, I¡¯m grateful to the gods (or whoever to thank for such fortune) for the paralysis; otherwise, I would¡¯ve either been locked up in the local "nut house" or I¡¯d have bashed my head against the wall. Or killed someone in a fit of rage.


    But over those four weeks, I had plenty of time to think, calm down, and by the time I was discharged, I had fully accepted that this was real¡ªno hallucination lasts this long.


    I decided to keep the truth to myself. Who knows what they¡¯d do to someone like me? Burn me at the stake? Or something worse¡ªthey¡¯ve got an entire room full of brains in the Department of Mysteries, and I doubt anyone donated those willingly. So yeah, I figured keeping quiet was the safer bet.


    It took me a long time to get used to the family. I didn¡¯t inherit the previous owner¡¯s memory. Only occasionally did fragments of memories surface. Mostly negative ones. Like how the twins tormented him, how he was jealous of his mother¡¯s affection for Ginny, how his sister teased him, and other small things. Apparently, only those memories that were emotionally charged remained.


    Well, it¡¯s better than nothing ¡ª it still helped me a lot to get my bearings in the house and recognize people in the beginning. And even without that, I felt a constant strain ¡ª everything was unfamiliar, my body was that of a child, there was magic all around, and right above the ceiling, some weird ghoul would howl and bang on the pipes at night. How I didn¡¯t lose my mind is still beyond me.


    I was also lucky that I knew English from my previous life: my mother worked as an English teacher in high school, so there was no way around it ¡ª I had to learn it. I translated well, wrote properly and legibly, spoke fluently in a bookish manner, and even managed to communicate well with the staff at a Turkish hotel while on vacation. I thought I¡¯d get by with this, but no such luck. Turns out, spoken English from native Brits is nothing like the proper, bookish version.


    I couldn¡¯t understand half of the familiar words, especially when they spoke quickly and with emotion, like Molly, or when the twins would interrupt and talk over each other. Everyone in the family had their own special way of pronouncing things.


    Arthur swallowed half the vowels, Charlie dropped the endings, Ginny dragged her words out a little, and Molly spoke like a machine gun. Only Percy spoke clearly, like the kind of English I was used to. But his speech was so loaded with fancy phrases that I mostly guessed at the meaning, piecing it together in my head like a puzzle. Bill was the same, though instead of complex words, he peppered his speech with local youth slang I didn¡¯t know.


    And on top of all that, I was still thinking in Russian. By the time I figured out what someone had said, came up with an answer in my head, and translated it into English¡­ they¡¯d be staring at me, waiting for a response, and I¡¯d start to panic, afraid they¡¯d figure me out, my thoughts scattering in all directions. It took me a long time to get used to it all.


    I was lucky they grew me a new tongue after the injury¡ªmy old one had almost completely dissolved, along with part of my palate and esophagus. But the healers at St. Mungo¡¯s deal with such cases in no time, it¡¯s no more difficult for them than everyday injuries, like a simple cut. If it weren¡¯t for the allergic reaction and subsequent nerve paralysis, Ron would have been home in a few hours, good as new. So the twins didn¡¯t even get killed for their prank, much to my secret disappointment.


    My new tongue ached and itched like crazy for the first two months after I was discharged. It moved stiffly, and felt like a bee had stung it, with my whole mouth swollen. I couldn¡¯t speak clearly for about three months. That¡¯s why no one noticed my strange accent or was surprised by my one-word answers¡ªI mostly just kept quiet and nodded. Eventually, I got used to it and adapted a bit. Besides, I practiced every day¡ªtrying to read fairytales out loud, enunciating every word.


    I spent most of those early months in my room, trying to avoid too much contact with my new family, thinking it would lower the risk of being found out. And the doctor had advised me to take it easy until my muscles fully regained their tone.


    In this reality, healers can easily cure paralysis¡ªif it¡¯s the usual kind. But nerve-related issues are tied to the mind and mental processes. That¡¯s something only mind-healer mages can treat¡ªthe ones who understand how the brain works. But they don¡¯t use such magic on kids under sixteen. Their minds are too unstable, and they could go mad. So they give you potions and wait for it to heal on its own. Plus, the services of a master like that cost as much as our house and then some, with no guarantee it will help. I overheard this during one of my check-ups when the ¡°parents¡± were talking with the healer while I was getting dressed.


    Molly gave the twins a good beating with her broom and sternly told them not to touch me anymore. They didn¡¯t stop teasing me, of course, but at least they stopped slipping me any of their experimental tricks.


    Although, if it were up to me, that punishment was too light. I wouldn¡¯t have stopped at a spanking, especially when I remembered that bowel-cleansing spell and how they fed me disgusting potions through a tube¡ªit¡¯s a pleasure only for the truly adventurous, I¡¯ll say that. And for a whole month afterward, back at home, Molly had to help me shower¡ªmy body didn¡¯t fully cooperate yet, and sometimes my legs would buckle unexpectedly, risking a fall..


    It¡¯s deeply humiliating to have someone else washing you, scrubbing you all over, getting into every nook and cranny with a sponge, turning you around like a mannequin. And even later, when I could finally bathe myself, every day she¡¯d loudly ask, ¡°Ronnie, did you wash your ¡®little thingy¡¯ and ears properly?¡±


    I can¡¯t say anything bad about the Weasley family, though. They may not be rich, but they are tight-knit, though very noisy and rowdy. You can¡¯t find peace and quiet anywhere in the house, not even in your own room. Molly clearly has never heard of personal space. She¡¯ll barge in without knocking at any time, day or night, whenever she feels like it, and when she starts scolding you, the whole house hears it. In this family, nothing stays hidden: anything that happens, the whole family knows about it.


    Arthur worked at the Ministry, while Molly took care of the house and the kids. But helping out around the house wasn¡¯t something people did in this family. She always kicked everyone out when she was cooking or cleaning. Like, ¡®you¡¯ve eaten, now get out of my sight and go do something.¡¯The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Once, trying to build some rapport, I offered to wash the dishes. Molly Weasley stared at me like I was insane, and when she snapped out of it, she stuffed a handful of pies into my hands and, in a sweetly persuasive tone, suggested I lie down and rest until dinner, then showed me the door. I didn¡¯t offer to help again.


    Personally, I think household chores were Molly¡¯s way of relaxing¡ª her way of taking a break from the kids and too much socializing. She didn¡¯t have any place to retreat to in the house either, and with all those daily responsibilities, there was no time for it. But in the kitchen, by herself, she¡¯d turn on the wizarding radio, hum along, and dance a little while cooking, singing under her breath with Celestina Warbeck.


    Arthur was the smartest of the lot¡ªsince there was no office in the house, he privatized the garage for his personal use and often fiddled around there with a serious look when he had some spare time, though he didn¡¯t have much of that. After reading Rowling¡¯s books, I used to think he was a useless layabout who did nothing at home, just hanging out in his shed. But reality turned out to be quite different.


    Arthur hammered away at something every day. He loved using Muggle tools, even though magic would¡¯ve been faster. But as I gathered from conversations, spells were unreliable¡ªyou have to refresh them from time to time, and you never know when the chair under you might fall apart. So, using a hammer was a safer bet, with a guarantee that it wouldn¡¯t unexpectedly break.


    He never went anywhere without his ¡°emergency kit,¡± always fixing something¡ªstairs, railings, the porch, and doors to the rooms needed the most repairs. The stools were reinforced, the beds extended when the kids outgrew them, and Arthur had made all the furniture in the house himself. And I¡¯m not even mentioning the one bathroom and two toilets, which got heavy use with so many people living there. The roof was always leaking, too, and he¡¯d repair it with magic, though the fix never lasted long, and new leaks would appear just in time for the next rain.


    Molly, when she wasn¡¯t cooking or cleaning, was always knitting, sewing, or mending something. I never saw her just sitting around doing nothing. Her loud voice echoed throughout the house all day, until she finally disappeared into the master bedroom late in the evening.


    I ended up reading the Harry Potter books by accident. I was heading to Gelendzhik to visit my parents by train. Normally, I would¡¯ve flown, but the dates didn¡¯t work out, so I had to return my ticket and endure almost two days on the train. And, of course, in my rush, I forgot my phone charger at home.


    Later, I realized I hadn¡¯t packed anything to read, except for a couple of crossword magazines that had been lying around in my bag from last time. The crosswords got old fast, the conversations with fellow passengers went in circles, and even the chess games my companion Stepan tried to teach me got boring quickly. The station kiosks offered little more than the same old crosswords, tabloids, and shelves of romance novels. I did manage to snag a single detective novel, but I finished it in three hours¡ªI read fast.


    Thankfully, a teenage girl nearby lent me her copy of Harry Potter. Not exactly a spy thriller, but at least it wasn¡¯t one of those trashy medieval romance novels with smut starting by page five.


    The book wasn¡¯t half bad. It started off as a simple fairy tale, like The Giant Turnip or Snow White but things got more interesting as it went on. Although, I¡¯ll admit, I sometimes got pretty frustrated with the characters¡¯ illogical decisions¡ªespecially the guys. The female characters were more or less reasonable, though not without their quirks. Then again, maybe that¡¯s just the English mentality¡ªwho knows? Anyway, that¡¯s how I got acquainted with the books. So, thanks for that, Marina. I don¡¯t remember the details, but the key moments stuck with me. Should help me survive, I guess. Although, at the time, I had other, simpler problems on my mind.


    What drove me up the wall the most was everyone¡¯s lack of boundaries. And it wasn¡¯t just Molly. Here, it seemed perfectly normal to gather in the living room after dinner and dive into everyone¡¯s personal lives. Molly would earnestly tell her husband about the day in his absence¡ªeverything down to the smallest details. She¡¯d talk about how Percy ate poorly today because of an upset stomach and had to be given a laxative. Or how poor Ginny had a boil on her bottom. Then she¡¯d pull out one of Lockhart¡¯s books, Healer, Heal Thyself, to look up remedies, sparking a discussion on how to handle the situation¡ªall under Ginny¡¯s embarrassed groans of ¡°Mum!¡± and the twins¡¯ giggling. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get used to that.


    Everyone had an opinion on everything¡ªadvice, approval, criticism, and teasing, especially from the twins. It was like there couldn¡¯t be any secrets in the family. Soon, the school year would be over at Hogwarts, and the older brothers would come home. I¡¯d already experienced what it¡¯s like when the whole family gathers during the last holiday. The house was packed, like a circus camp, with noise everywhere. It made my head spin.


    In my old life, I was an only child, raised in a family where people respected each other¡¯s personal space and maintained polite distance. So, this casual familiarity and constant intrusions really got on my nerves. And to think I once begged my mom for a little brother, imagining how fun it would be to live in a big family. Back then, my classmate Stakhov, who I didn¡¯t get along with, had three brothers, while I had none¡ªno one to call to back me up during fights. I was such a fool.


    My mom was a native of St. Petersburg, the very definition of old-school intelligencia ¡ª polished shoes and modest, well-worn clothes from countless trips on public transport, with a love for smelt fish and rye bread.


    We lived with my maternal grandfather in a four-room apartment on Vasilievsky Island, one of which was entirely taken up by his library. He was an avid book collector and lover of rare volumes. It¡¯s because of him that I developed a passion for reading. He passed away when I was eight, but I still remember him fondly¡ªthis quiet, frail old man with his ever-present cane.


    My father, on the other hand, was just an ordinary guy. I still don¡¯t understand how he managed to win over my mom. You¡¯d be hard-pressed to find two more different people. He worked as a driver his entire life, always driving armored vehicles for a cash-in-transit service. I inherited his love for cars and knack for fixing them. Ever since I was little, I loved tinkering with him in the garage. By the time I turned sixteen, he gave me my first car, and my friends and I spent the next couple of years working on it until we turned that heap into a gem. Just in time to break it in before I joined the army.


    In the army, I landed a cushy job after training, working in the motor pool, so the time flew by quickly.


    Later, when I was discharged, I started buying junk cars, fixing them up, and selling them. I made good money that way. Alongside that, I restored vintage cars for wealthy clients¡ªeveryone in St. Petersburg knew that Sasha could turn any scrap metal into something special. People would bring me cars from other cities just to get them fixed.


    When I¡¯d saved up enough, I opened my first tire shop. Later, I sold off my grandfather¡¯s library and invested in a repair shop. My old school friend, Pavel, had opened a used car dealership and invited me to go in on the business with him. I made good money from that. I moved out of my parents¡¯ house, bought a one-and-a-half-room apartment in a new area, and then, out of the blue, I got married.


    My first wife, Galina, wasn¡¯t a beauty, but her figure was something else. More importantly, she was practical and had a good head on her shoulders, despite being only twenty-two. She loved gardening and making preserves. In the end, that¡¯s what ruined our relationship¡ªshe turned out to be too much of a homebody. She even worked from home, knitting custom orders. Meanwhile, I, fresh out of the army, didn¡¯t want to sit still. I wanted to travel, see the world, stroll around town, hang out with friends. But all she cared about was her knitting, the house, and the garden. It¡¯s honestly a mystery why she even showed up at the party where we met.


    She never wanted to go out with me, and when I went without her, she¡¯d get upset. I bought her a fur coat, but there was nowhere to wear it¡ªit just hung in the closet. She only wore it once, when we visited my parents for Christmas. So, we ended up living separate lives¡ªshe stayed at home, and I went everywhere alone, as if I wasn¡¯t married at all. Eventually, our relationship quietly fizzled out after two years, and we got a low-key divorce.


    To be honest, I didn¡¯t marry her out of love anyway. We slept together, and she thought she got pregnant, so, being the honorable guy I was, I did the right thing. It turned out to be a false alarm¡ªjust some hormonal imbalance. But by then, I¡¯d gotten used to the idea, and she seemed content with the arrangement. Galina, to be fair, would¡¯ve made the perfect wife for any other man who could sit still for more than a day. But I was still young, restless, hadn¡¯t gotten all the partying out of my system yet and didn¡¯t realize what I had.


    When Dad went on vacation again, he and Mom decided to go to Gelendzhik for a break. They liked it so much they decided to move there for good. They sold the apartment in St. Petersburg, the dacha (summer house) in the suburbs, and bought a house by the sea. I didn¡¯t go with them¡ªdidn¡¯t want to leave my apartment, friends, business, or clients. Besides, what would I even do there? That whole resorty south is just one big village¡ªgood for a week of rest and fishing, then you¡¯d go stir-crazy. Still, I visited them every year during the season to catch up and unwind, and they¡¯d come to see me in the winter, mostly to get some better medical treatment. The healthcare down there wasn¡¯t exactly great.


    Mom, of course, worried, missed me, and kept asking me to join them. But after a couple of years, when my little sister unexpectedly came along, she finally accepted it. Meanwhile, I saved up, sold my one-room apartment, and bought a two-bedroom place. Furnished it to my taste and was just getting settled when, out of the blue, I ended up married for the second time.


    Masha was my first love. Back in school, all the guys were drooling over her, and I even managed to kiss her once. I was a good-looking guy, broad-shouldered, and even had a rank in combat sambo, but I guess I wasn¡¯t in her league. She wanted someone richer and more educated. I told her upfront I was going to a tech school. Why would I need university if tech school was enough for my trade? I already knew what I wanted to do and had no doubt I¡¯d make it. But I guess that wasn¡¯t good enough for her, and things ended before they even began.


    Long story short, fate brought us back together¡ªshe brought her car into my garage for a service. She was still this queen, looking stunning. I was floored. We went out for dinner, and before a month was up, I suggested we move in together, and she agreed.


    But three months later, the teenage fantasy of being with her wore off. When I came to my senses, I was in shock. Not that Masha wasn¡¯t a great homemaker¡ªshe kept the place spotless, cooked great, looked amazing, and in bed, well, she was incredible. My first wife, Galya, had been pretty reserved in that area, and I hadn¡¯t pushed her out of respect for her boundaries. But with Masha, it felt like I¡¯d stumbled into paradise. Except¡­ her personality was so awful that I couldn¡¯t enjoy any of it. Life felt like one long bout of heartburn.


    She wanted to control my every move, calling me constantly "Where are you? Who are you with?" Her jealousy was obsessive. If I stayed out late with the guys after work, I was in for an all-night argument. She¡¯d talk down to me like I was some teenage punk or a stray dog. And then there were the weird habits¡ªlike how all the mugs in the dish rack had to face north or how the toilet paper had to be folded into a neat triangle. I don¡¯t know how I made it a year.


    Then things got worse¡ªtantrums out of nowhere, smashing dishes. "You don¡¯t care about anything! I¡¯m here all day, making this place nice, and you¡¯re always in the garage, tinkering with your junk," she¡¯d say. It was like the only way to keep her happy was to sit by her side all day, holding her hand and telling her how amazing and unique she was.


    The final straw was when she threw my entire collection of model cars into a box and smashed them with a hammer in a fit of rage¡ªall because I wouldn¡¯t let her turn my office into a bedroom. That was my last sanctuary, and I wasn¡¯t giving it up.


    I came home to find the box in ruins¡ªa mess worth 140,000 rubles and two years of my life spent tracking down rare models to complete the collection. She¡¯d been nagging for a while that a married man shouldn¡¯t have hobbies outside of his wife, but I never thought she¡¯d go that far.


    Without a word, I packed her things, called her a taxi, and sent her on her way while she wailed. That night, over a glass of whiskey, I decided I¡¯d never get married again. To hell with it. Since then, I¡¯ve just lived for myself. Not that there was much life to live¡ªI wasn¡¯t even 30 yet.


    I still don¡¯t remember how I ended up here, no matter how hard I try. Everything was normal¡ªI spent the day at the shop, hung out at a friend¡¯s place for a couple of hours, then went home. After that¡ªdarkness, and I woke up in a new body.


    I didn¡¯t feel any worry for my family. It was like someone had planted the idea in my head that they¡¯d be fine. But what was I supposed to do here?


    The alarm suddenly snorted, opened its sleepy eyes, and started to sing:


    "Wake up¡­ wake up¡­ rise and shine¡­ or all the tasty food will be gone¡­ wake up¡­" It kept going until I flicked it, and it finally went silent, its hands twitching like little mustaches. Turns out, while I was lost in thought, morning had already come.


    ¡°Up, all of you!¡± Molly¡¯s cheerful voice rang through the house. ¡°If I have to come up there and drag you out of bed, I will!¡±


    I sighed in defeat and hurried to the bathroom before the others rushed in. Molly wasn¡¯t bluffing¡ªshe¡¯d make good on her threat.

 Chapter 2

    I was the first one down for breakfast. The twins, who had been banging on the bathroom door trying to hurry me up, got tired of waiting. They tried to slip into the kitchen without washing up, but Mum gave them a smack with a towel below the waist and sent them back. Unfortunately, Percy had already taken the bathroom, and they''d never get ahead of Ginny¡ªshe''s just like Mom, so they¡¯d have to wait. If I¡¯m lucky, I¡¯ll be able to finish my meal in peace before they return, otherwise, they might toss something gross into my plate while I¡¯m not looking: a button, a dried spider, or maybe a few hot pepper seeds.


    I politely greeted Mum, got my usual dose of morning fussing, and sat in my spot¡ªthe last stool at the end of the table, across from Ginny. A plate of oatmeal and two thick slices of white bread generously buttered and sprinkled with sugar appeared beside me, almost as if by magic. Nodding in thanks, I started eating.


    Almost right after me, a sleepy Arthur shuffled into the kitchen. He absentmindedly kissed his wife on the cheek, muttered a morning greeting, and plopped down at the head of the table, receiving his portion of bacon and eggs. He picked up a fork and immediately buried himself in the latest issue of the Prophet.


    In this house, everyone came down to breakfast at their own pace. Family members trickled in at different times, but nobody was ever late. Within fifteen minutes, everyone was at the table, even Percy, who always struggled to wake up in the mornings.


    Mum Molly made amazing sweet pastries filled with various jams for breakfast, but everyone loved the cheesecake buns the most, and there were never enough of those. The late risers usually missed out, especially if the twins got to breakfast first and Mum wasn¡¯t paying attention to the plate.


    At first, I wondered why she didn¡¯t just bake more of the buns so there¡¯d be enough for everyone. But then I realized it was Molly¡¯s way of nudging the kids towards discipline, gently encouraging them to be on time. And to my surprise, I discovered many other subtle manipulations like that. The Weasleys, despite seeming simple and straightforward on the surface, were far more complex than I had initially thought.


    In this family, there was no pressure on the kids. The parents created the illusion of choice, subtly guiding them toward the desired outcome, teaching them responsibility and letting them experience the consequences firsthand. The twins were allowed to conduct their experiments, and when things went wrong, they¡¯d be punished, but never outright forbidden from doing anything. It took me a long time to realize this.


    At first, I saw the adults'' behavior as irresponsible and indifferent. Like, they had too many kids due to lack of sense, and now those kids were growing like weeds in a field while the parents only cared about feeding and clothing them. How ashamed I feel now for having such nasty thoughts.


    To these people, their children were individuals whose choices were respected and considered, allowing them to grow and develop in their own way.


    It reminded me of when I was little and really wanted to walk through a huge muddy puddle in my new rubber boots. That puddle tempted me every day as we walked back from preschool. I was curious about what kind of monsters lived in the dark depths, and whether I¡¯d sink in up to my waist. After all, I figured that¡¯s what rubber boots were made for¡ªto explore puddles.


    But even back then, I knew my neat-freak mum wouldn¡¯t understand and wouldn¡¯t be happy if I did that, so I obediently avoided the puddle. Of course, by the time I went to school and later joined a sambo club, I was no longer the obedient boy constantly looking back at his mum. My friends and I went all sorts of places and came home looking all sorts of ways. I experienced a lot of things in life, including puddles.


    And yet, I¡¯ll never forget that particular puddle¡ªnot the puddle itself, but the feeling of incompleteness and something being off, as though I could have done something but didn¡¯t. But in this family, the kids never had to deal with regrets like that. Nothing was forbidden to them, and afterward, under some light-hearted scolding and fussing, they¡¯d be cleaned up, dried off, given cold remedies, and their burns and cuts would be healed before being sent back out to explore the world. No demands, no restrictions. And that was actually amazing. Here I was, now asking myself, why did my ¡°perfect¡± mum even need that fancy washing machine?


    I liked the Weasleys, though their lack of order and basic manners constantly surprised me. They both annoyed and amazed me. Watching their freedom and closeness, I couldn¡¯t help but compare them to my own family, and often the comparison came out in the Weasleys'' favor. I hated myself for this, pushing those thoughts away as if they tarnished and devalued my past, all twenty-nine years I had lived. It felt as if, by growing used to the Weasleys, by approving and accepting them, I was staining and betraying the memory of my real family. Six months had passed, and I still hesitated, unable to make the final decision¡ªto sever ties with the past and embrace the present. And my place in it.


    The twins stormed into the dining room, breaking me out of my thoughts, and suddenly everything got loud. I pulled my teacup closer and stayed on guard¡ªyou have to be cautious with those pranksters. Thankfully, Percy sat between us, so most of the teasing and jabs were directed at him.


    But today, Ginny was their first target. She wasn¡¯t in a good mood, and the older brothers felt it was their duty to cheer her up in their own special way.


    While Mum was distracted pouring Arthur¡¯s coffee, they pelted Ginny with balls of bread, making her shout in frustration. They were swiftly dealt head-slaps and scoldings from their mother.


    After that, they left Ginny alone and turned on Percy, trying to slip a worm down his collar when Dad wasn¡¯t looking¡ªclaiming that his serious expression made him look like a toad. Unfortunately for them, Arthur noticed. After a casual remark, they finally stopped bothering Percy and spent the rest of breakfast shoving each other. They hadn¡¯t targeted me yet, and I wasn¡¯t rising to their jabs and taunts.


    No matter how much I tried to fit in, I couldn¡¯t quite mimic Ron. It wasn¡¯t about a language barrier¡ªI¡¯d overcome that in three months, getting used to the family''s way of speaking.


    All the Weasleys, together, were like a fire¡ªbright and burning, as if each one had a little hot coal inside them. I could feel it too; it was impossible not to. But I didn¡¯t let mine burn, I kept it down, so it wouldn¡¯t consume the person I used to be. Memory was the only thing I had left of my past, and I clung to it however I could.


    Ron, the one they knew, had become a different person. He no longer burned with them; it was as if he didn¡¯t belong to this family, standing apart like an observer. Everyone, even the kids, could sense this distance, though I thought I was hiding it well. But an overheard conversation between Molly and Arthur opened my eyes.


    I couldn¡¯t sleep that night, so I came down to get some water. On my way back, I heard hushed voices and froze¡ªmeeting anyone was not part of my plan.


    The door to the parents'' bedroom was ajar, and I saw Percy¡¯s rat quickly scurry out of it. I nearly kicked it just for show as it passed me. Of course, I knew the Animagus was snooping around everywhere, eavesdropping on conversations to stay in the loop, but what was he doing in the adults¡¯ bedroom? Who knows what a married couple gets up to in there. Maybe that perverted rat liked to spy?


    Anyway, I was about to move on when I heard Molly¡¯s voice and stopped in my tracks.


    ¡°Arthur, I don¡¯t understand what¡¯s wrong with Ron,¡± she said worriedly. ¡°For months now, he hasn¡¯t been himself. I don¡¯t recognize my little boy. It¡¯s as if he¡¯s been replaced. The Healer assured us there would be no lasting effects, but Arthur, even his speech has changed. And I¡¯ve noticed he¡¯s barely eating. Yesterday, he didn¡¯t even touch his favorite kidney pie. When has that ever happened? I¡¯m at my wit¡¯s end. Should we ask Dumbledore to take a look at him, what do you think?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s unnecessary, Molly,¡± Arthur replied calmly, while I, blending into the wall, was drenched in cold sweat. ¡°There¡¯s no need to bother such a busy man over something so trivial.¡±


    "But the boy had shut himself off," the woman objected quickly. "He hasn''t spoken to anyone in months, doesn''t go anywhere, barely talks, and flinches the moment I try to hug him. As if my touch repulses him, and he used to be such an affectionate child, always snuggling up to me. Arthur, something is happening to him. I''m his mother... I can feel it... I''m afraid he blames us for what happened. How will I survive if my own son ends up hating me? What if we lose him?" she added in horror, and judging by the sobs, she began to cry. "I''m a terrible mother."


    "Dear, calm down," the man replied gently. "I think you''re overreacting. Molly, Ron is still a child, and a month of being paralyzed would scare anyone. It''s no wonder he''s changed. He just needs time for the memory of it to fade. And don''t forget that recovering from nerve damage is very painful. It''s no surprise he''s staying quiet and not eating much. How could he even chew your pie, dear?" Arthur teased, his voice filled with lightheartedness. ¡°He¡¯s a brave boy, never complained once, even when it was tough. You¡¯re a wonderful mother, Molly. Just give him time, and everything will be fine,¡± he added warmly. I, meanwhile, had unfrozen and quietly began to back away toward the stairs.


    ¡°When you say it like that, I feel like such a worrier,¡± I overheard her say. ¡°Of course you¡¯re right, as usual. But promise me, if things don¡¯t get better, we¡¯ll go to Dumbledore¡­¡±


    This conversation seriously alarmed me and opened my eyes to how arrogant I''d been, thinking that distancing myself from the family would lower the risk of being exposed. But if they involved Dumbledore, I¡¯d be found out for sure. I couldn¡¯t let that happen. It was time to stop messing around and make a decision. I might never truly be their Ron, but I¡¯d have to try my best to become their real son. No more games¡ªI had to choose, if I wanted to survive.


    The next morning, I was the first down for breakfast. Not surprising, since I barely slept, spending the whole night figuring out how to act, and woke up at the crack of dawn.


    ¡°Good morning, Mum,¡± I mumbled, offering a shy smile before looking awkwardly at the floor. She froze, looking startled, but quickly recovered. She wiped her hands with a towel and hurried over to me.


    ¡°Good morning, Ronny. Take a seat. I made your favorite¡ªmilk soup for breakfast.¡± She hugged me tightly, kissed the top of my head, and then gently nudged me toward a stool. Her eyes looked suspiciously misty, but she seemed pleased.


    ¡°Awesome!¡± I replied, grinning as I plopped into my chair. ¡°I love milk soup! Hey, Mum, has Dad come down yet?¡± I asked, grabbing my spoon. I know, it was a dumb question, but it felt like something a seven-year-old might ask.


    "No, sweetheart, he''s running a bit late," she replied, glancing quickly at the clock as she bustled around the kitchen toward the door.


    "Hurry up, dear, or you''ll be late," she shouted loudly, standing in the hallway and looking up the stairs.


    Arthur appeared, dragging Fred and George in tow. The boys looked disgruntled and sullen, like two ruffled sparrows.


    ¡°Molly, feed these rabble-rousers and make sure they stay in their room until I get back from work. They¡¯re grounded today,¡± Arthur said sternly as he plunked the sulking boys into their chairs.


    ¡°What did they do this time?¡± Molly asked, her hands on her hips and a fierce look on her face.


    ¡°They put something in Percy¡¯s toothpaste,¡± Arthur replied, glancing at the clock and grabbing a sandwich. ¡°The poor lad¡¯s teeth grew five inches. I fixed it already. He¡¯s fine now,¡± he added quickly before Molly could explode, ¡°but don¡¯t bother him for a while. The healing potion needs time to work. Give him his breakfast later¡ªabout an hour should do it. And as for you two,¡± he said, turning to Fred and George, who were happily devouring their food, ¡°if this happens again, I¡¯ll lock your brooms in the shed for the whole summer.¡±


    "But Dad!" both twins protested, tearing themselves away from their plates.


    "No ''but Dad,''" Molly snapped, taking a deep breath to express the full extent of her outrage.But just then, a sleepy Ginny wandered into the kitchen, and Molly instantly shifted her attention to her youngest. I guess when you have so many kids, it''s impossible to keep everything in mind at once.


    "I hate milk soup," the little girl grimaced, peeking into my bowl and sulkily plopping onto her stool. "Good morning, everyone..."


    ¡°Sweetie, it¡¯s very good for you,¡± the mother cooed, sliding a bowl toward her. ¡°Look, I even sprinkled it with fairy dust, just the way you like it.¡±


    Honestly, I''m not sure about the fairy dust, but Ginny''s soup did shimmer suspiciously, and I even spotted a couple of twinkling stars and comets floating above the bowl. By the way, this dish barely qualified as soup ¡ª it was more like noodles boiled in sweet milk with a buttery sauce.


    If someone had told me I''d ever be eating something like this, I wouldn''t have believed them. But I really liked Molly''s cooking, and I eagerly devoured even these kiddie dishes. The boys were also scarfing everything down. But Ginny was our little princess and the apple of everyone''s eye, so she could afford to be picky.


    Finally, the girl listened to her mother''s coaxing and deigned to try the food. For a while, the only sounds in the dining room were the creaking of stools and the clinking of spoons. The twins were uncharacteristically quiet until their mother remembered their prank again.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking a bit pale, Ron,¡± my father remarked, eyeing me closely as the dishes were cleared away and tea cups took their place. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    "Fine. Just didn''t sleep well," I smiled weakly. "Dad, can we move the ghoul somewhere else? He''s been keeping me up at night, and it scares me so much I can''t get back to sleep," I asked.


    To be honest, the ghoul didn''t bother me that much, but knowing that some unknown magical creature lived above me was a bit unsettling. Plus, I¡¯d caught a glimpse of some magazines and old books in the attic the last time I''d peeked in, but as long as the ghoul was living there, I wouldn''t dare try to sneak in.


    "Oh," one of the twins¡ªFred or George, who can tell them apart¡ªsaid enthusiastically. "Dad, we could live in the attic ourselves and give our room to the ghoul."


    "Or let the ghoul live with us in our room," the other chimed in. Both of them were practically glowing with excitement. I knew they were conducting experiments on the creature, but to do so, they had to sneak into the attic unnoticed, which was risky. If their mother caught them, they''d be in serious trouble. Having the ghoul in their room? That was their dream come true.


    ¡°Quiet, both of you!¡± Molly snapped. ¡°No one is moving in with the ghoul or switching rooms. And that¡¯s final. Ron, dear, why didn¡¯t you say something sooner? Of course, the ghoul needs to be moved.¡±


    ¡°Aw, little Ronny scawed of the big bad ghoul?¡± one twin teased.


    "Poor thing wet his pants and can''t go night-night," the other chimed in mockingly.


    "Enough!" Molly exclaimed, her face flushing with anger as sparks flew from her wand, which she had been using to levitate the dishes into the sink. It looked like the twins had really pushed her buttons.


    "And you two, after breakfast, grab some buckets and rags and scrub your room until it shines. You won''t leave until it''s spotless. I will be checking." she added with a huff.


    ¡°But Mum, that¡¯ll take all day!¡± the boys groaned in unison, looking genuinely horrified. ¡°Dad, tell her!¡±


    "Do as your mother says. Get up and get to work," their father ordered briefly, and the disgruntled boys hurried out of the dining room. Arthur then turned his attention to me. "I''ll think of something about the ghoul, Ron," he promised as he stood up from the table.


    Molly handed him a well-pressed, though not new, black coat, which here was called a wizard robe. Arthur ruffled my hair, kissed his wife and daughter on the cheek, pulled a felt hat that resembled a ski cap onto his head, and disappeared into the green flames of the living room fireplace. No matter how many times I watched it, I never got tired of it. Magic was mesmerizing, and the more I saw, the less I understood how it worked. So far, I didn''t understand it at all and had even denied its existence not too long ago. But it seems it''s time to get used to the idea that I''m a wizard too. Though, for now, I didn''t feel anything magical inside myself.


    ¡°Need help, Mum?¡± I asked as we returned to the kitchen. Ginny had already snuck off with an apple to her room.


    "Thank you, sweetie, there is no need," my mother said with a grateful smile, stroking my hair. "But you can take breakfast to Percy if it''s not too much trouble. I''ll take care of the cleaning for now. I''ll check on him later."


    "Of course," I nodded eagerly and carried the loaded tray upstairs, hoping I wouldn''t run into those two troublemakers.

 Chapter 3

    Percy¡¯s room was on what we called the "third floor," right below mine. Why "called"? Well, because The Burrow was a weird, hodgepodge of levels, where each floor wasn¡¯t built all at once but tacked on over time like some kind of magical puzzle, with rooms added whenever and wherever they were needed.


    The result? A house with a crooked outer wall, bulging in some places, like on the first floor, where it caved in to form a porch under the overhanging second floor. Elsewhere, like in Mum and Dad¡¯s bedroom or Bill¡¯s room, it jutted out, creating tiny balconies formed from the walls and ceiling of the floors below.


    I didn¡¯t get quite so lucky. My room was one of the last additions, and part of it was carved out of the attic. So, my already small ten-square-meter space only had two straight walls, which made it feel even smaller. On the right side, about a meter and a half from the floor, the attic slope began. With my height, there was no chance of standing up straight in that part of the room.


    That¡¯s where I hung some bookshelves and squeezed in a small desk. Across from them were my bed and a nightstand. That was the entirety of my "domain." The other boys'' rooms weren¡¯t much different¡ªjust as cramped¡ªbut at least their walls didn¡¯t slant like mine.


    Ginny got luckier with a slightly bigger room, about twelve meters, down on the first floor. Since her room was built last, and there¡¯s more space on the ground floor, they could spread out a bit. She even had room for a built-in wardrobe (though it wasn¡¯t exactly overflowing with clothes) and a dressing table with a big, round mirror in a scratched-up frame.


    From the inside, the house felt like a maze of passageways, with levels going up and down randomly. No wonder they called it "The Burrow."


    The main staircase didn¡¯t go straight from the first floor to the attic. At each landing, or sometimes just before, it branched off into three to five smaller steps.


    Before the second floor, you¡¯d find the parents¡¯ bedroom and the bathroom with a toilet. A couple of steps above that was a storage closet for junk, and a bit higher, two meters up and three side steps over, was Bill¡¯s room.


    Between the second and third floors were Charlie¡¯s room on the right and the twins¡¯ on the left, almost directly above the parents¡¯ bedroom. Maybe that¡¯s why Molly was always aware of their nightly escapades.


    Between the third and fourth floors was Percy¡¯s room, reached by two broad steps, and another bathroom. And then, three steps higher, to the left, was where I lived. The main staircase led further, straight up to the attic, turning around my room ten steps higher. Quite the labyrinth.


    This time, I managed to deliver the tray without any incidents¡ªthe twins were probably busy hiding the evidence before Mum could storm in for a surprise inspection.


    I placed the tray on the top step and knocked. Percy opened the door right away, like he¡¯d been waiting by it.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you, Ron. Come in,¡± he said with visible relief and stepped aside. Carefully holding the tray, I entered.


    ¡°Put it here,¡± he gestured and moved a notebook from the table onto the bed. A couple of minutes later, I plopped down there myself.


    ¡°Mum said she¡¯d stop by later,¡± I mentioned. ¡°How¡¯re you doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he shrugged calmly and picked up his spoon. ¡°Thanks to Dad.¡±


    ¡°Listen, Percy, aren¡¯t you sick of putting up with those instigators? You¡¯re an older brother,¡± I blurted out unexpectedly, watching him wince slightly as he chewed. ¡°Let¡¯s team up and give them a proper thrashing, so they¡¯ll finally leave you alone?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Percy shook his head, biting into his bread and butter again. ¡°That¡¯s not right¡­ Fred and George, they¡¯re good¡ªthey¡¯re kind and fun, and they don¡¯t mean any harm. Don¡¯t think that. It just... happens. Why would we fight them? We¡¯re family, after all.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, family,¡± I muttered skeptically. A few good whacks with a belt, and we could just say ¡®it happened¡¯ too. ¡°Alright, alright, eat. I was just suggesting. No pressure,¡± I added as Percy shot me a reproachful look.


    While he polished off Mum¡¯s cooking, I took in his room. To me, it looked more like the office of a forty-year-old man than the bedroom of a boy who wasn¡¯t even eleven yet. Everything was in its place, not a speck of dust, books neatly lined up, not a single poster or trinket. The only personal touch was a framed family photo of the Weasleys on the nightstand. It gave me a warm feeling inside, and I glanced away, a bit embarrassed, like I¡¯d seen something too personal. My eyes landed on his open notebook.


    ¡°Percy, can you teach me how to write?¡± I suddenly asked, flipping through the pages and admiring the neat, even lines with beautiful loops.


    ¡°Uh, I already taught you. Did you forget everything?¡± he asked, looking up from his pastry, surprised.


    ¡°No, I mean with a quill,¡± I clarified, cursing myself silently. ¡°All I manage to do with it is make ink blots. But I want it to look as nice as yours.¡±


    ¡°Of course, if you really want to, I can help you,¡± he said after a brief pause, sounding a little shy. ¡°Let¡¯s do it every day after lunch. An hour should be enough. But I¡¯ll be giving you homework,¡± he added, getting more enthusiastic, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile at his excitement.


    ¡°Alright!¡± I said, happy. ¡°And could you lend me something about magic to read? Nothing too hard, though¡ªI only have Quidditch books and fairy tales. I don¡¯t want to take anything from the living room; if the twins see, they¡¯ll tease me.¡± Percy nodded seriously, wiped his hands carefully with a napkin, and took a few books from the shelf, two of which were quite thick.


    ¡°Here, ¡®Magic for Beginners,¡¯ ¡®Fantastic Beasts,¡¯ and ¡®A History of Magic.¡¯ The last two are school books that Charlie gave me. Just be careful with them; I need to take them to Hogwarts.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Thanks,¡± I said sincerely, getting up. ¡°I¡¯ll leave them here for now. I¡¯m just going to take the dishes back, and I¡¯ll grab the books on my way back.¡±


    ¡°No need, I¡¯ll take them myself,¡± Percy smiled gently and rubbed his nose in a way that reminded me of Dad. ¡°You go ahead and start reading.¡±


    I nodded, grabbed the books, and headed for the door.


    ¡°Hey, Percy,¡± I called, suddenly feeling bold. ¡°Want to go for a walk? It¡¯s not cold today, and there¡¯s no rain.¡±


    ¡°You want to go for a walk?¡± he asked, surprised. ¡°With me? Together?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said again. ¡°I¡¯ve been cooped up at home for so long because I was sick. I just need to stretch my legs.¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± He jumped up quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll get dressed. Just need to clear the dishes and ask Mum.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll change too. Let¡¯s meet downstairs in half an hour.¡±


    As I pulled on a warm sweater and socks, I patted myself on the back for the idea. I had so many questions, and no one to ask. I didn¡¯t get any of the real Ron¡¯s memories. How am I supposed to know what he¡¯s been taught? If I say something dumb, his parents will catch on immediately. Percy, though¡ªhe¡¯s still a kid, and even if I screw up, it¡¯s less risky.


    Besides, I hadn¡¯t seen anything beyond the house and the ward at St. Mungo¡¯s yet. I don¡¯t even know what county we live in. All I remember is that it''s a village where wizards and Muggles live side by side. Other than the Weasleys, the Lovegoods and Diggorys are our neighbors. I¡¯ll get Percy to fill me in on everything.


    Still, it¡¯s kind of weird. Percy¡¯s almost eleven, the twins are nine, and I¡¯m seven, according to the kitchen calendar, but none of the kids go to school. And I haven¡¯t seen anyone do any homework in the five months I¡¯ve been here at the Burrow. Who¡¯s teaching them to read, write, and all that? Do magical kids not get any basic education? I¡¯ll figure it out.


    Percy was already at the door, buttoned up in his coat and bouncing impatiently while Molly wrapped a long red scarf around his neck. When he saw me, his face lit up and he let out a breath of relief as his mother turned her attention to me.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°Ron, put on this coat and these boots, it¡¯s damp outside,¡± Molly instructed, pulling a worn jacket off the hook. ¡°Here, let me help.¡±


    She bundled me up quickly, wrapping the same kind of scarf around my neck that Percy had. She finished by placing knitted hats on our heads and handing us gloves, giving each of us a quick kiss on the cheek before shooing us out the door.


    ¡°The warming charms will last about four hours, so be home by three. Have a good walk, my dears,¡± she said, closing the door behind us.


    The time flew by. Percy turned out to be a goldmine of information. I just had to ask him one question, and he eagerly answered, going off on so many tangents that he covered a whole bunch of other things too. All I had to do was listen and nod.


    It started with the weather. I casually mentioned how lucky we were with today¡¯s snow, since it had been raining just the day before. Percy immediately perked up and started explaining how we¡¯re lucky to live here. Devon has a milder climate compared to other counties, and it doesn¡¯t rain as much. He couldn¡¯t wait for summer, when we¡¯d go camping again at the local nature reserve, or visit the beach, which was only six miles away. Just from that one comment, I got answers to a ton of unspoken questions I¡¯d been wondering about, and even more useful info. Definitely made the right choice picking Percy as my source.


    The conversation naturally shifted to the magical families living in our area. And again, I didn¡¯t even have to ask. As we walked down the main road, Percy pointed to a small forest behind the Burrow and mentioned that since April was coming, we¡¯d soon be able to gather buds from magical pines and blooming moonflowers to sell. He even shyly asked if I wanted to help, and we could split the money afterward.


    I pretended to be surprised that magical plants grew nearby, and he launched into a fascinating explanation. Our village, Ottery St. Catchpole, is a mixed settlement where Muggles and wizards have lived together for ages. The magical energy isn¡¯t as strong here as in Hogsmeade, and it¡¯s not everywhere, but where it exists, it¡¯s enough to support some magical plants. There are even some magical birds, non-poisonous snakes, and frogs around. Nothing too valuable grows here, which is why most wizards don¡¯t bother harvesting¡ªtoo cheap to be worth selling. But for our family, it¡¯s enough. We can use some ourselves, and sell a bit for a couple of chocolate frogs.


    I¡¯d been wondering where the twins got their ingredients for their experiments¡ªthere¡¯s no way their parents were buying them. Turns out they just raid the local woods. Molly too, apparently¡ªI¡¯d seen her by the cauldron a few times, so she must have been making simple potions for the family herself.


    Aside from the wizards I already knew about, there were three more families living in our village¡ªthe Fawcetts, the Woods, and the Frenches. I had no idea who they were, but whatever. The important thing was, there were plenty of wizards around.


    We got back on time, hungry and happy, and Molly was thrilled to see us in such good spirits, all rosy-cheeked.


    The twins, of course, teased us over lunch, saying that two humorless nerds had found each other, but I ignored them, too focused on the delicious stew with herbs and potatoes.


    From that day on, I went for a walk every day, rain or shine. Surprisingly, they didn¡¯t even stop me in bad weather¡ªthey just gave me an umbrella. Afterward, Molly would always make me drink a cup of elderberry and thyme tea to ward off colds.


    If it wasn¡¯t raining, Percy always tagged along. Every time I got ready to go out, he¡¯d watch me with such a hopeful look, and when I invited him, his eyes would light up. How could I refuse? The poor kid was starving for company. He didn¡¯t bother me, anyway.


    Of course, Ron, just like the twins, used to think Percy was a pompous bore, but I liked him. Why not listen to a smart person? The guy knew a lot more than I did. Moreover, he really valued our friendship and wasn''t proud or arrogant. When I was slow to understand something, he would explain it again without any irritation. He would have made a great teacher, so why did he need that Ministry job? Though I knew he wanted to be like his father, maybe that¡¯s why.


    Still, sometimes I¡¯d get tired of all the socializing and make use of the bad weather when Percy is unlikely to join me to go for a quiet walk on my own and think things over. Like now.


    The area was beautiful, even now, with constant cloud cover and the greenery not yet in sight. It was late February, but it wasn¡¯t cold¡ªjust damp, with occasional strong winds. Luckily, Molly had enchanted my jacket before I left to shield me from the worst of it.


    The Burrow stood a bit off the beaten path, like the other magical homes scattered around, spaced far apart from one another. I figured they were hidden by some kind of magic because no matter how hard I squinted into the distance, I couldn¡¯t spot any other wizard houses. I couldn¡¯t wander through the fields just yet either; they were still covered in snow or so muddy that I¡¯d get stuck after the first step. So, we usually stuck to short walks, about a mile up the road from our house to the first crossroads. The asphalt road ran past the Burrow, connecting the main highway to the village and continuing on to Exeter.


    On the right side of the road, the River Exe flowed alongside us, eventually widening before emptying into the English Channel. Here, though, it wasn¡¯t so broad. Percy said the older boys liked to swim here in the summer, a little further downstream, where the current was weaker, and they could easily swim across.


    On the left was our house, separated from the road by fields that eventually turned into low hills and patches of woodland. The Burrow was a bit hidden from view, so it didn¡¯t stand out. Although, I¡¯m pretty sure there was some magic involved, because otherwise, any Muggle driving by would¡¯ve gone into shock at the sight of our home¡ªit looked just too odd not to. They probably just saw a cute white cottage instead of the ¡°mad architect¡¯s nightmare of the century¡± that it actually was.


    There wasn¡¯t really a fence around the house¡ªwell, there was a crumbling stone wall in places, but it was so low an adult could easily step over it.


    Behind the house was a fairly spacious garden. It wasn¡¯t clear yet what grew there, but there were lots of trees and bushes. The garage and chicken coop were on the other side of the house, near the highway, next to another small patch of forest. This one wasn¡¯t magical at all, and as Percy mentioned, there was a small pond or swamp where our family collected frog spawn in the warmer months. Between the house and the garage, there were also ropes stretched out where Molly hung laundry to dry.


    The Weasleys, like most of the other wizards around here, didn¡¯t really interact with their Muggle neighbors. Molly even got her groceries from Mr. Frenchie, who lived about a mile up the road, or half a mile if you cut straight through the fields. The wealthier wizards, Percy said, shopped in the magical districts and didn¡¯t deal with the local farmers either.


    Old Frenchie wasn¡¯t exactly a farmer. He ran a small, sturdy magical homestead just for himself, but ever since he¡¯d met Arthur¡¯s father, he¡¯d been selling the Weasleys his excess produce, for magical money, of course. The first time I saw wizarding currency was when I offered to go grocery shopping in Arthur¡¯s place.


    Percy tagged along, as usual, and without any fuss, we were handed a cart and some coins. For two galleons, fifteen sickles, and three knuts, we brought home a whole cartful of shrunken groceries for the week. Frenchie was kind enough to lighten the cart for us, so we happily pushed it along the asphalt without a care.


    I figured that feeding such a big family cost about ten galleons a month, not counting the milk and cream that magically appeared every morning after Molly left out empty jugs and a note the night before.


    When the older brothers came home, the food bill would probably rise to fifteen galleons, but back then, I didn¡¯t know how much Arthur earned or the prices of other things in both worlds. I hadn¡¯t even been to the village yet. I only started to piece it all together that summer when Bill and Charlie came home. Bill had brought a career guide from school, with a list of professions and approximate salaries.


    It turned out that regular Ministry employees made forty galleons a month. Personal assistants or secretaries earned fifty, department heads got a hundred, and middle managers made eighty, plus overtime pay.


    Hogwarts teachers earned eighty galleons. With seniority bonuses and head-of-house duties, it went up to about a hundred and fifty, and if you were a Master, you could pull in two hundred. That was good money¡ªabout the same as the Deputy Minister, the head of the Auror Office, or a top-tier healer at St. Mungo¡¯s.


    Workers in the service sector, like cooks or shopkeepers, earned forty to forty-two galleons. A loader earned twenty. The minimum wage was four galleons a week.


    The highest salary was the Minister of Magic¡¯s, as well as the head healer¡¯s, at three hundred galleons. Quidditch players, though, made even more¡ªfrom three hundred to five hundred with a local team, and a thousand for those in the League. No wonder Ron dreamed of becoming a Quidditch player, even for a local club.


    The average wizarding salary ranged from fifty to seventy galleons a month, which was about three hundred pounds, give or take, and at the time, Muggle salaries were around three hundred twenty pounds. So, it turned out that most wizards didn¡¯t live much better than Muggles.


    Our family likely survived on eighty galleons a month, plus about forty from overtime. And we had to feed nine people. No wonder there was never an extra knut to spare.


    From another little introductory booklet, I found out Arthur didn¡¯t know much about pounds because he¡¯d never exchanged them at Gringotts for wizarding money.


    Sure, he knew those paper bills were money, but to him, they were just useless wrappers. Apparently, the bank only exchanged Muggle currency for Muggle-borns or half-bloods who lived on the Muggle side, and even then, only after they presented their Hogwarts letter. The exchange limit was a hundred galleons a year, and only for the seven years of schooling. The wizarding world was more isolated than I had ever imagined.


    I¡¯m not much of a finance guy, but it became clear that the goblins had a monopoly on wizarding finances¡ªfrom minting coins to running the bank¡ªso wizards couldn¡¯t play the currency market or, Merlin forbid, get rich without goblin oversight.


    By the way, I found the jar of pounds in the garage. It was pretty full, and for a moment, I was tempted to pinch some and head to the local shop for real sweets that didn¡¯t scream or wiggle when you ate them.


    But then I thought better of it. To Arthur, that jar was like a lovingly curated collection, the way my toy cars had been to me. I didn¡¯t want to ruin it. I could live without the sweets. Really, what I wanted more than sweets was just to go to a regular shop and buy something.


    But all these revelations happened much later. Back then, I still didn¡¯t know any of this¡ªI was just quietly trying to fit in with the family. And today, when Arthur got home from work, we were going to move a ghoul, and I still needed to read up on what kind of creature it was.

 Chapter 4

    Arthur came back at six, through the fireplace. The moment the flames turned green and a human figure formed in the fire always amazed me. What kind of crazy magic makes something like that even possible? It¡¯s one thing to step out of a cold fireplace, but appearing from roaring flames is a whole different story.


    Maybe Santa Claus didn¡¯t climb down chimneys after all, but used the Floo network and was a wizard? Looking at things from that angle really changes your perspective.


    At seven, we sat down for dinner. The meal was unusually quiet ¡ª the twins, who were uncharacteristically glum after their day of chores, were too busy shoveling food into their mouths to bother anyone. After dinner, Molly sent them off to finish cleaning something they hadn¡¯t gotten to during the day. Percy later told me in secret that mum had found their stash of fireworks while tidying up, and they exploded. Now the room was covered in soot and grime, and Molly refused to clean it up with magic, making them do it by hand. They were on their second round of cleaning. Turns out, there is some justice in the world.


    We spent the evening both having fun and being productive ¡ª even Ginny got involved ¡ª by relocating the ghoul.


    We decided to move the creature into the storage room between the parents¡¯ bedroom and Bill¡¯s. We shrunk all the junk, packed it into a box, and moved it to the attic, which Molly quickly tidied up. We immobilized the ghoul, lifted it with magic, and carefully levitated it into its new home. That¡¯s when I saw it for the first time.


    It was just under a meter tall, bald, with wet, slimy-looking skin, kind of like a person. And it had pretty decent teeth. Personally, I wouldn¡¯t let something like that near me willingly, but apparently, it was considered a sort of household pet here.


    Later, I read that ghouls aren¡¯t dangerous to people or magic. They¡¯re classified as magical parasites. They live in barns and feed on moths and spiders. But I saw Molly feeding it table scraps, and it seemed just fine. In fact, it looked even plumper than Percy.


    Anyway, I¡¯m glad it¡¯s going to live farther away from me now, though I¡¯ll still have to pass by it often.


    The ghoul seemed to like its new home. The room was five meters long, windowless, but that¡¯s probably for the best ¡ª ghouls don¡¯t like light. Arthur enchanted the door to be see-through, so the ghoul won¡¯t get bored. Maybe it¡¯ll stop howling now? And it can¡¯t bang on any pipes ¡ª there aren¡¯t any. Plus, the twins won¡¯t be able to get to it anymore. The downside is that I can¡¯t get to the magazines either ¡ª Arthur locked the attic with magic. Oh well, Percy¡¯s shelves are still full of books.


    When I hugged my parents and got their affectionate kisses in return, I felt the awkwardness of a grown man in the warm embrace of strangers, which, thankfully, they took as simple shyness. The adults were happy ¡ª their son had come home, and I felt a little more at ease myself. I slept like a baby that night.


    The next morning was sunny and brought a surprise ¡ª Arthur had the day off, and after breakfast, we were off to the stadium, twins included. Molly stayed home with a very annoyed Ginny.


    "Chudley Canons" were playing against "Caerphilly Catapults" ¡ª a Welsh team from Caerphilly. Apparently, Ron supported them just because they represented their county in the tournaments.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about Quidditch yet ¡ª I¡¯d never seen a live game before, and Ron, it seemed, had only been to a match once, before the tragedy. Kids weren¡¯t allowed into the stadium until they turned seven, after all. But I had a poster in my room ¡ª maybe someone brought it from a game and gave it to the kid?


    To be honest, I really wanted to tear it down ¡ª the moving images, in that unbearable orange, made my eyes water with how much they flickered.


    But I decided to leave it alone for now ¡ª old Ron was a huge fan. Most of the books and magazines I found in the room were about Quidditch. So, for now, I focused on memorizing the names of the players, learning the rules of the game, and getting familiar with all the different throws, tricks, and fouls.


    At one o¡¯clock, Arthur threw a handful of powder from a jar on the mantel, said some kind of incantation, and the fireplace expanded until it could fit all of us inside. I later found out that this is how they transported kids under eleven. It minimizes the risk of getting lost in the Floo Network and saves money ¡ª you only have to pay for the adult.


    At that moment, though, I had no idea and was trying to figure out how to step into the green flames. But one of the twins "helpfully" shoved me ¡ª a jab to the ribs that sent me flying into the fireplace, where I crashed into Arthur.


    I don¡¯t remember much about the trip ¡ª it all happened so fast. Just a quick jolt at the start, then it felt like zooming down a highway with sharp turns and loops. But the brothers were pressed against me on all sides, so I didn¡¯t feel much, and I clung to Arthur so hard I could barely let go, even after we landed.


    I don¡¯t remember what the stadium at Hogwarts looked like, but this one seemed pretty standard for the modern world, except for the seating. The first row was as high as a third-story building. The lower levels housed the administration, guest quarters for visiting teams, locker rooms, and the Floo hall, where we arrived. We even visited the team¡¯s museum, which showcased their accomplishments. That¡¯s where I saw a racing broom for the first time ¡ª beautiful, nothing like the one back at The Burrow.


    During the matches, the main hall was full of souvenir stands and fan gear ¡ª from team hats and jerseys to posters with autographs. Arthur even offered to buy me a poster, but I politely declined, and he didn¡¯t push it. Instead, we got boxes of jumping chocolate frogs ¡ª I gave mine to Percy later. I never quite gotten used to the idea of biting into candy that wriggled around like that.


    Overall, the day was a success. The stadium was only a third full¡ªjust hardcore fans and locals attended the preliminary games, so tickets were much cheaper than for the final qualifiers.


    To my surprise, I enjoyed the game, though I wouldn¡¯t say I became a fanatic. The players were intense and passionate. There were three player substitutions due to injuries. One player got knocked back by another, slammed into the ring support at full speed, fell from a height, and hit the ground hard, leaving a two-meter crater. Honestly, I thought he was done for, but no one seemed particularly concerned. They paused the game, substituted the player, and carried the guy off the field after waving a wand over him.


    Another player got hit hard by a Bludger and lost his sense of direction, spinning in place until they took him off the field. Then, two others crashed into each other so badly it looked like they broke their ribs. And the ''Cannons'' keeper took a shot to the face at the start of the game, breaking his nose, but he kept playing like nothing happened. Not that it mattered much¡ªhe didn¡¯t catch a single ball.


    In the end, the guest team¡¯s Seeker caught the Snitch, but our team won on points, so the match was declared a draw. I read somewhere that this was actually a pretty good result. The ''Chudley Cannons'' hadn¡¯t won since 1892, yet somehow, they¡¯d never been knocked out of the tournament, even though they¡¯ve been stuck at the bottom. Now, they¡¯ve climbed up from 29th to 9th place. Still, even the fans didn¡¯t believe the team would ever regain their former glory, and their 21 championship cups were just gathering dust in the museum as a reminder of better days.


    After the match, Arthur gave each of us 12 Sickles for sweets, so we could choose our own treats. I¡¯m not a fan of magical candy in general, but to avoid standing out, I bought three Drooble¡¯s gum for four Sickles, a pretty racing broom-shaped brooch for six, and gave the remaining two Sickles to Percy, who was short for a pack of his favorite ''Milk Bees.''


    The rest of the day was fun. The twins, while we eagerly devoured lunch, took turns interrupting each other to tell our mother and an obviously envious Ginny all the details of the match. Judging by Molly¡¯s expression, she wasn¡¯t particularly interested. Arthur handed Ginny a chocolate frog and a couple of small bags of sweets, but she still looked miserable. Later that night, before bed, I went to her room and gave her the brooch, which surprised her.


    Ron envied Ginny¡¯s place in the family, and their relationship mostly consisted of mutual pranks and tattling. But as an adult, I didn¡¯t get involved in that. The feeling of being an older brother was familiar to me¡ªI had a sister once, though I didn¡¯t know her for long. In short, I wanted to befriend Ginny and become her real older brother¡ªdealing with the twins as enemies was enough for me.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The following week, after dinner, Arthur approached me and asked what I wanted for my birthday. Honestly, I had completely forgotten that Ron¡¯s birthday was on March 1st, so I was caught off guard. I promised to think about it, but, spoiler alert, I never came up with anything.


    In the end, I got a Galleon and a box of six chocolate frogs, which I secretly shared with Ginny and Percy.


    My first birthday in this new body was unforgettable.


    At three in the afternoon, Molly set the table in the living room for a party, and from the fireplace stepped an eccentric lady wearing an elaborate hat. She was short, dry-looking, but carried herself with great pride. It was Aunt Muriel. She acted like royalty, and her sharp remarks made Molly blush more than once. Apparently, she attended every Weasley family event.


    We hadn¡¯t been seated for more than half an hour when an explosion sounded from beneath Muriel¡¯s chair, and the room filled with such a stench that everyone¡¯s eyes watered. Our prankster twins had set off a dung bomb.


    We bolted out of the room like corks from champagne while the coughing parents cast spells to keep the smell from spreading to the hallway. Still, the stench clung to us.


    After Muriel finished coughing, she launched into a tirade, declaring that she would never set foot in the Weasley house again and that Fred and George would be written out of her will. With that, she stormed out, where a strange little creature in a pillowcase appeared out of nowhere to whisk her away.


    It was a full-blown scandal. The twins were spanked and made to clean the living room by hand, and they were sentenced to a month of house arrest¡ªbut not without punishment. They were given old copies of ''A History of Magic'' and had to memorize a chapter a day, with Arthur personally quizzing them each evening. I bet they¡¯ll be the only ones to know all those impossible goblin names and dates by heart.


    I consoled myself with five Galleons from Aunt Muriel, though I only got to keep one. The rest was used to buy new clothes to replace the ones that were worn out¡ªnot for me, but for the older brothers. For example, I was wearing hand-me-downs from Percy, who had gotten them from Bill, while the twins wore Charlie¡¯s, as they had similar builds. Fortunately, Charlie¡¯s clothes fit me and Percy better than the twins'', which were basically rags by the time they reached us.


    But I added my one Galleon to the stash my parents had given me. Maybe after a few years, I¡¯ll have enough to buy my own wand.


    The dragon dung bomb was a real piece of work¡ªthe smell lingered for ages. Worst of all, all the food on the table was ruined, including the broomstick-shaped birthday cake, which I never got to try. And everyone had to rush to wash up while the parents and the culprits cleaned up the living room.


    After a bath, we had a little gathering in Percy¡¯s room, where he and Ginny polished off the chocolate frogs in my honor. Then we wandered around until dusk, when a calmed-down Molly called us inside.


    Later, I overheard my parents talking. Apparently, Muriel was quite wealthy. She gave five to ten Galleons for every birthday and had generously paid for both Bill¡¯s and Charlie¡¯s school supplies when they entered their first year at Hogwarts. She¡¯d even bought Charlie a broom when he made the team last year¡ªnot a Nimbus, of course, but a decent Cleansweep. My parents had been counting on her help again this year, but thanks to the twins, it seemed Percy wouldn¡¯t be so lucky.


    Life went on as usual after that, except Ginny started joining Percy and me on our walks. After my gift, she became softer and stopped treating Ron like a rival for their mother¡¯s attention. I didn¡¯t pull any pranks on her, and, to be honest, I was fine with Molly shifting her doting back to Ginny once I¡¯d recovered. So, Ginny and I became friends, though I didn¡¯t let her take the upper hand. For some reason, some girls tend to mistake kindness and friendliness for weakness and start walking all over you. I learned that from my wife. So, I acted like the older brother, and Ginny had to accept that, even though she had quite a temper.


    Percy didn¡¯t mind Ginny, although he didn¡¯t form the same kind of friendship with her that I did.


    In April, the warmth arrived abruptly. The grass turned green, the rains stopped, and the puddles dried up. We spent all our free time outdoors, exploring the area and even getting into a fight with the local kids. They blocked our path and asked who we were. Percy surprised us all by being the first to throw a punch when one of the kids, after a bit of posturing, yanked on Ginny¡¯s hair ribbon.


    He fought like a lion, even if a bit clumsily¡ªdefinitely Gryffindor material. I jumped into the fight too and held my own. Fighting was my element, though my body didn¡¯t always keep up with my instincts. Still, I managed to knock a couple of them down, though I took a hook to the jaw after leaving myself open a few times. Luckily, the kids weren¡¯t any older than us.


    Afterward, we made peace, and the local boys treated us to candy. I even showed John a couple of moves I¡¯d used to floor him. It felt great to feel normal again, living a simple, carefree life like any other boy. We didn¡¯t become friends, but we exchanged nods whenever we passed by, and no one bothered us again¡ªJohn¡¯s gang was ¡®in charge¡¯ around here.


    Of course, our parents scolded us when we got back, but they patched up our scrapes and let it go. From that day on, Ginny looked at Percy and me with wide-eyed admiration.


    On the first of April, we celebrated the twins'' birthday. As usual, the party was festive and delicious, though there was an undercurrent of sadness. Aunt Muriel didn¡¯t show up, and the birthday boys came up short¡ªten Galleons short, to be exact. Sure, our parents gave them a gold coin each, but that was all.


    It was a bad sign. Percy was going to Hogwarts this year, and it looked like our parents would have to prepare him for school on their own. I hoped Muriel would change her mind because otherwise, we¡¯d be living on bread and water, or Percy would have to go to Hogwarts in worn-out clothes. He didn¡¯t deserve that.


    In May, as Percy had promised, we went out gathering, and of course, Ginny tagged along. We assigned her to pick flowers¡ªsomething like our snowdrops, except these glowed with a silvery light and had a blue center. She fearlessly collected three baskets full, pushing through the small forest. Meanwhile, Percy and I climbed trees and carefully picked buds, though it was slow going¡ªit was harder than it looked.


    The funny thing was, for the three baskets of flowers Ginny collected in one day, we were paid five Galleons. But for the four baskets of buds we gathered over three days, we only got four. Naturally, we each got to keep just one gold coin and a box of Chocolate Frogs, which we both gave to Ginny without saying a word.


    It was lucky that the twins were grounded again for some prank; otherwise, they¡¯d have ransacked the forest for themselves¡ªthose flowers only bloom for one day.


    In June, just before the brothers came home for the holidays, something unexpected happened.


    To be honest, in all the months I¡¯d been here, I hadn¡¯t felt any magic in me. Even Ginny, in a fit of frustration, managed to blow up a bowl of porridge, much to the delight of our parents. Percy, with his self-discipline, could summon a small flame in the palm of his hand, though it only lasted a moment. The twins were constantly blowing things up. But me? Nothing.


    I¡¯d started thinking that after inhabiting this body, I was no longer a wizard. I wasn¡¯t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. If I was just a normal kid, I could head off to the Muggle world where I¡¯d be more comfortable. But now that I¡¯d gotten used to seeing magic everywhere, the idea of becoming a wizard myself seemed pretty appealing. In the end, I wasn¡¯t sure what I wanted. But fate decided for me.


    One day, I woke up in a bad mood. That happened sometimes¡ªan internal tension I could usually will away after a few hours. But this time, it didn¡¯t go away¡ªthanks to those two idiots.


    After our afternoon walk, I decided to take a shower before heading to Percy¡¯s for lessons¡ªat night, the twins would hog the bathroom, and I hadn¡¯t had time to wash up. As I lathered my hair, my scalp began to sting, and the foam turned red and sizzled.


    It didn¡¯t actually hurt, but it was terrifying. My mind flashed back to weeks of paralysis and the feeding tube. Now I imagined myself back in that state, only bald and with a burn across my head.


    I frantically rinsed off the foam, praying to every god I could think of to let me get away with this one. When I finally approached the mirror with shaking hands, I nearly cried with relief.


    My hair was a swampy green, standing on end, but it was still there. I looked utterly ridiculous.


    Once I realized I wasn¡¯t going bald or slipping into a coma, rage boiled up inside me¡ªnot anger, but pure, unbridled fury. It consumed me like a wave. I barely had time to throw on some clothes before I charged off to find the twins. Every part of me was screaming for revenge.


    I found the idiots in the living room. As soon as they saw me, their heads snapped up, and for a moment, they froze in shock before bursting into laughter and taunts.


    I charged at the one who¡¯d stood up first, still laughing and pointing at me. He had no idea how he ended up flying into the wall as I rained punches on him. I remembered all my past fights and favorite moves.


    The second one attacked me from behind, but after two punches, he was down next to his brother, while I, with no sense of sportsmanship, kicked him for good measure. Yeah, my first youth had been wild and a little criminal.


    It was Ginny¡¯s scream that snapped me out of it. I caught a glimpse of Molly whisking her out of the room without her usual fuss, and Arthur conjuring a transparent shield between me and the twins.


    I turned and took a good look at the scene¡ªthe groaning boys, holding onto each other as they tried to stand, staring at me with equal parts shock and fear. Honestly, I was surprised too. How had I managed to take down two boys stronger than me? It seemed my magic had finally awakened and helped me.


    Then I locked eyes with Arthur. His expression didn¡¯t promise anything good. ¡°I¡¯m in for it now,¡± I thought, just before collapsing, all my strength draining away at once.

 Chapter 5

    I came to the loud conversations of adults and the twins'' complaints.


    ¡°He attacked us like a wild animal,¡± one of them whined. ¡°Ow, it hurts, Mum¡­¡±


    ¡°Quiet, George, it¡¯s your own fault,¡± their mother cut him off. ¡°How many times have I told you not to mess with your brothers? You¡¯re family. When your father and I are gone, you¡¯ll only have each other.¡±


    ¡°But it really hurts, Mum. It stings¡­¡±


    ¡°Bear with it, you¡¯re a man,¡± Molly replied, suddenly choking up. ¡°Oh, Arthur, how did things end up like this? They¡¯re such good boys¡­¡±


    ¡°Mum¡­¡± I mumbled as I stirred.


    ¡°I¡¯m here, dear,¡± I heard her soft voice, followed by the gentle touch of her hand stroking my hair.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with me? Why do I feel so weak? Am I sick?¡± I asked, my voice sluggish.


    ¡°You had a magical surge, son, and quite a powerful one,¡± Arthur explained calmly, approaching.


    I looked at him with growing unease. He didn¡¯t seem angry¡ªhe actually felt distant, and that unsettled me more than if he had been loud or upset. I finally understood why the family feared his quiet, cold demeanor far more than Molly¡¯s open, fiery temper.


    ¡°You¡¯ll drink a potion today and spend the rest of the day in bed,¡± my father said. He waited for Molly to give me the potion, then effortlessly lifted me into his arms. In that moment, more than ever before, I felt like an eight-year-old child. I realized how much I depended on him. We reached my room in silence, where he gently laid me down in bed.


    ¡°I¡¯m very disappointed in you, Ron,¡± he said bluntly, looking at me almost with pity. ¡°But we¡¯ll talk about it tomorrow when you¡¯re feeling better. Now, get some rest.¡±


    ¡°Wait, Dad,¡± I called out. ¡°What about Fred and George? Are they okay?¡± He gave me a long, searching look.


    ¡°They¡¯ll live,¡± he said curtly, but his gaze softened for a moment. ¡°Now sleep. You need to rest.¡± He left, quietly closing the door behind him. I felt uneasy and anxious, just like when I first woke up in this body. It was as if I no longer belonged to this noisy, irritating, but close-knit family. But I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on that¡ªI fell asleep, barely noticing that someone had already dressed me in pajamas.


    The next morning, I woke up later than usual. After visiting the bathroom, I went downstairs. Judging by the noise in the living room, everyone had already eaten and was now enjoying themselves¡ªwithout me.


    ¡®They didn¡¯t wake me up,¡¯ I thought sadly as I turned into the kitchen. ¡®I guess I deserved that.¡¯


    In the dining room, I found Mum clearing the breakfast dishes. When she saw me, she quickly wiped her hands on a towel and came over, levitating a plate of omelet toward me with a flick of her wand.


    ¡°Good morning, Ronnie,¡± she said sweetly, giving me a quick hug and kissing the top of my head. She then gently nudged me toward a stool. ¡°You were stressed yesterday, dear, so I decided to let you sleep in. Sit and eat.¡±


    I hesitantly picked up the fork and began eating, but the food had no taste.


    ¡°Your father is waiting for you in the living room,¡± she mentioned casually, pouring me some tea. ¡°Go see him when you¡¯re done.¡± I nodded timidly and stared into my cup, memories of yesterday¡¯s fight flooding back, filling me with shame.


    The twins had been pushing my buttons for a long time, so I didn¡¯t feel bad about that. But I had fought them like it was a boxing match, using full force against opponents who didn¡¯t stand a chance. That was wrong. What would my coach have said?


    I remembered the time my friends and I taught another group a lesson¡ªwell, to be honest, we beat them up. Petrovich had looked at us just like Arthur had yesterday, with disappointment and exhaustion. We almost got kicked out of the gym. When we tried to apologize, he stopped us, saying it was his fault for not realizing we were turning into thugs. He had taught us to shoot, to be sharp, strong, and precise, and we had turned that on civilians. It was the worst we¡¯d ever felt¡ªbetter if he had just hit us.


    When I knocked on the living room door and was allowed in, Arthur was the only one there, sitting in one of the worn armchairs, looking perfectly normal.


    ¡°Sit down, Ron,¡± he offered, gesturing to another armchair across from him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything to say to me?¡± he asked after a long pause.


    ¡°Uh¡­ apologize for yesterday?¡± I stammered. ¡°Sorry, Dad. I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¡°Apologies are nice, but I want to make sure you understand why you¡¯re apologizing,¡± he said seriously, fixing me with a firm gaze.


    ¡°Well, I got mad and hit the twins,¡± I said flatly, like a rehearsed line. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you shouldn¡¯t have,¡± Arthur agreed. ¡°But I get the feeling you¡¯re not really sorry and that you¡¯re just saying this to please me and lighten your punishment. I want to hear your explanation, Ronald Bilius Weasley,¡± he said sternly.


    His calm, authoritative tone sparked anger inside me. Screw this¡­ the twins nearly sent Ron to the hospital¡ªor rather, they did. And now he wants an apology from me, when he should¡¯ve disciplined them earlier so none of this would¡¯ve happened.


    ¡°You want an explanation, Dad?¡± I snapped, standing up, my anger boiling over. ¡°You want it from me? Fine. I admit, I didn¡¯t expect things to turn out this way, but they had it coming! They¡¯ve been asking for a punch for a long time. And you know what? I think this is all your fault. You should¡¯ve punished them ages ago, stopped their stupid experiments, but no¡ªyou never stepped in, you let them get away with everything, like you didn¡¯t care about what was happening. I had to defend myself! Do you even know that I¡¯ve been carrying my own soap, towel, and toothpaste to the bathroom ever since that time? Just so those jerks don¡¯t mess with me again? Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I saw the foam start to hiss? I thought I was going back to St. Mungo¡¯s¡­ tubes and potions and¡­ I almost lost my mind¡­¡±


    I fell silent, breathing heavily, still angry but slowly calming down now that I¡¯d let off steam and wasn¡¯t being met with resistance. Arthur, meanwhile, got up and walked silently to the window. He stood there for a long time, looking out, so long that I became curious about what he was watching. I walked over and stood beside him.


    ¡°Listen, Ron,¡± he began, still gazing out the window, his voice calm and even, ¡°when you look at the world through a closed window, you don¡¯t feel the wind, the cold, or the rain. And it¡¯s easy to think that your conflicts with your brothers are the biggest problem. But they¡¯re not.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Beyond the walls of The Burrow is a vast world where I won¡¯t be able to protect you¡­ any of you. You¡¯ll have to find your own way. But I can guide how you learn to defend yourself while you¡¯re still under my watch. And I¡¯m not going to interfere or help.


    ¡°Yesterday, you taught your brothers a lesson and earned their respect. You found your way. Now they¡¯ll know that if they try their pranks at Hogwarts, there will be consequences. They¡¯ll have to learn to be clever with their jokes, not reckless. That¡¯s their lesson, and they¡¯ve learned it.


    ¡°And you¡­ you faced your fears, and now you know how to stand up for yourself. Feeling your strength will make you calmer and more controlled because you¡¯ll know you¡¯re capable. These are the lessons that forge character. And from now on, no one will suffer from your strength without reason. That¡¯s your lesson, and you¡¯ve learned it. I know you don¡¯t regret standing up for yourself, but you do regret going too far.¡±


    "You knew?¡± I asked, surprised, looking at him.


    ¡°I knew,¡± he smiled back at me. ¡°Because I regretted it the same way once. I made the same choice as you, Ron. It''s always easier for me to settle things with a punch, but only after giving the other person a chance to see reason peacefully. If they don¡¯t get it... well, that¡¯s their problem.¡±


    ¡°But the twins almost killed me!¡± I blurted out, shocked.


    ¡°Accidents happen, Ron, in both worlds,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°You can¡¯t predict or prevent them. If you keep thinking about it, you¡¯d have to be wrapped in cotton and never leave the house.


    ¡°Two boys died while I was in school. One fell off his broom during a match and broke his neck. The other had an allergic reaction to a sleeping draught. He had problems at home and was so nervous he couldn¡¯t sleep. One night, he woke from a nightmare and couldn¡¯t fall back asleep, so his best friend gave him a sip of the draught to help him rest. By morning, he was dead. His friend wasn¡¯t to blame, but he spent his whole life beating himself up over that damned sip.


    ¡°The twins don¡¯t mean any harm, Ron; they¡¯re just trying to find themselves. Believe me, they would¡¯ve never given you that candy if they knew how it would end. It¡¯s a lesson for them too. Now, they¡¯ll test things a hundred times before giving someone their inventions. You know they test everything on themselves first, right? Only when they¡¯re sure it¡¯s safe do they hand out their jokes.¡±


    ¡°And you let them do that, Dad?¡± I asked in disbelief. ¡°What if they hurt themselves?¡±


    ¡°First of all, I always check the ingredients for anything toxic or harmful¡ªso I know what to save them from next,¡± he smiled. ¡°And second, it¡¯s better if they experiment where I can help if something goes wrong. They¡¯re not going to stop anyway, and tracking them down in the woods or basements is tricky¡ªyou might not get there in time.


    ¡°Our Burrow, Ron, is like a small model of Hogwarts. And Hogwarts is a model of the real world, the one waiting for you after school. So, it¡¯s better to learn life¡¯s lessons here at home, where it¡¯s relatively safe and I can still help.


    ¡°You¡¯d better get used to pranks at school. I bet the twins will be the most popular in their house. At Hogwarts, there¡¯s always someone slipping a potion, casting a spell, or growing a second head, ears, teeth, or tentacles just to amuse the crowd. All these are just childish jokes for young wizards. The bookstore is full of books like ¡®How to Prank Your Friends.¡¯ Thankfully, it¡¯s all easy to undo, and wizards are pretty resilient. But if real danger comes your way, your brothers will always have your back, despite your differences. And they¡¯ll die to protect their own if need be¡ªthat¡¯s family. Now, go on, before your mother wears out pacing outside the door, ¡ª he smiled softly again. ¡ª I hope we¡¯ve cleared things up, and you won¡¯t hold a grudge.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Dad,¡± I said, pressing my face against his shoulder as he gave me a comforting pat on the back.


    ¡°Go on, go. Your mother will give you your punishment,¡± he laughed at my surprised expression. ¡°You didn¡¯t think I¡¯d just talk to you, did you? Time to walk in the twins'' shoes¡ªit had to start sometime.¡±


    ¡°No, Dad. Not that,¡± I blurted out. ¡°Please, not A History of Magic.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up. You¡¯ve got another year of pranks and a couple dozen of my gray hairs before that,¡± he snorted. ¡°For now, we¡¯ll stick with The Tales of Beedle the Bard.¡±


    <hr>


    I was punished lightly¡ªthey gave me a can of paint and made me paint the benches in the garden. But even that turned into a group effort with Percy and Ginny helping out.


    The conversation with Ginny was the most awkward. She was scared out of her wits by how deranged I looked. I can¡¯t blame her¡ªred face, green hair sticking up, and a crazy look in my eyes. I promised I wouldn¡¯t act like that again unless someone really upset her.


    I made peace with the twins two days later. I walked into my room, and there they were, both leaning on my desk, whispering. I tensed up immediately, took a step back toward the door, and braced for the worst.


    ¡°Hey. Hey, we just came to talk,¡± one of them raised his hands in a peace gesture and took a step toward me, while the other shot nervous glances between me and his brother, clearly uneasy with the whole situation. Looked like George¡ªhe¡¯s the more sensitive one.


    ¡°So talk,¡± I croaked, closing the door behind me and leaning against the doorframe. Fred just smirked at my defensive stance and exchanged a glance with George. I hate when they do that¡ªit¡¯s like they¡¯re talking without words.


    ¡°We¡¯ve had a bit of a misunderstanding, Ron, and we¡¯d like to clear it up,¡± said George.


    ¡°Yeah. Go ahead, tell us everything before you lose your cool and turn into a mountain troll,¡± Fred added bluntly.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have messed with me,¡± I shot back.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t mean to,¡± George replied. ¡°That shampoo wasn¡¯t meant for you. You only have yourself to blame for taking what wasn¡¯t yours.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s fine to mess with Percy?¡± I scoffed.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t mind. And if he does, he¡¯ll tell us. What¡¯s your problem, anyway? They¡¯re just jokes.¡±


    ¡°Then prank yourselves, there are two of you,¡± I retorted. ¡°You already joked me to death once.¡±


    The boys deflated and exchanged a glance.


    ¡°Umm¡­ Ron, we didn¡¯t think it¡¯d go that way,¡± George said. ¡°We tested that candy on ourselves. There wasn¡¯t anything dangerous in it. It was just a Halloween gag. You would¡¯ve had a hole in your tongue to scare the girls, and it would¡¯ve healed in five minutes. You know there wasn¡¯t any pain or blood.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything,¡± I cut him off, frowning. ¡°I was too out of it. Just leave me alone from now on, okay? My sense of humor is gone.¡±


    ¡°Alright. We get it,¡± George answered.


    ¡°We promise, no more pranks on you. See you around, Ronny,¡± Fred smirked and headed for the door. I stepped aside to let him through.


    ¡°What about Percy?¡± I asked, not really expecting an answer.


    ¡°Don¡¯t push it,¡± George turned back to look at me. ¡°Percy will tell us if he¡¯s got a problem. Unlike you, he¡¯s got some sense of humor.¡±


    ¡°Though, to be fair, it¡¯s not really his style,¡± Fred added.


    That¡¯s how our standoff ended. Almost. Since then, I¡¯ve kept a close eye on them. When they¡¯d start whispering and throwing mischievous looks at Percy, I¡¯d just switch his shampoo with Ginny¡¯s¡ªthey were all in identical bottles, just on different shelves.


    When the loud scream echoed through the house, the Burrow practically shook. Ginny burst out of the bathroom, covered in foam and tears. Her beautiful long hair had turned into blue-green seaweed. I swear, I even saw fish swimming in it.


    Ginny didn¡¯t find the joke funny, and neither did Molly, who swooped down on the pranksters like a hawk to defend her favorite. The twins got it good, and they looked absolutely bewildered.


    The boys chalked it up to an accident and didn¡¯t stop their pranks. But when Arthur grew a thick beard decorated with daisies, and Mum sprouted fangs and a snake tongue, even they realized something was off. After another scolding, I couldn¡¯t hold back and shot them a meaningful look with a grin.


    They both gaped at me in sync, mouths wide open, and then suddenly burst into laughter, exchanged a glance, and gave me a thumbs-up.


    Since then, we lived pretty peacefully. They stopped sneaking around and adding random things to our food, and instead, they¡¯d just drop by when we were sitting with Percy and demonstrate their new inventions on themselves.


    Even Percy eventually tried a couple of their pranks. I think he just felt sorry for our little inventors. And later, I even took a risk myself and realized that when you know what to expect, it¡¯s not so bad¡ªit¡¯s even fun. After all, if you think about it, I had been thinking like a Muggle, which, in essence, I was. But wizards¡ªthey''re different. Somebody had to be buying all those "Puking Pastilles," "Blood Blister Pods," and "Canary Creams" that I wouldn¡¯t have spent a single Knut on. And they sold out so quickly that there were enough customers to fill an entire shop. So clearly, some people enjoyed all those "Weasleys'' Wizard Wheezes."


    That¡¯s when I understood my dad and appreciated his approach to parenting. After all, teenage mischief and selfishness fade with time, but talent and a united family stick around forever. That lesson I learned too.

 Chapter 6

    In the last third of June, the brothers returned from Hogwarts, and suddenly, The Burrow was bustling and chaotic again.


    The last time they visited, I wasn¡¯t in the mood for much socializing and mostly stayed in my room. But now, I happily joined in on the fun. It turned out that when the energetic Weasleys gathered together, they led a very active life and couldn¡¯t sit still for even a minute.


    Every day, right after breakfast, we¡¯d leave the house.


    We visited a magical zoo in Axminster. It was more like a petting zoo, with nothing too exciting except for a Niffler and a sabertooth hare. Mostly it was just puffskeins, big purple toads, and pygmy puffs. The best part was that you could touch and pet them all. Ginny even asked for a puffskein for her birthday since they were sold there. But they cost three Galleons, and while Dad didn¡¯t outright refuse, everyone knew it was unlikely he could scrounge up that kind of money by early August¡ªespecially with Percy needing supplies for Hogwarts. But what I liked about Ginny was that she never whined or begged for anything.


    We also visited a magical creatures museum in Sussex¡ªand that place was a nightmare. If Potter had to face a dragon in the first task, I don¡¯t envy him. Even the stuffed version of that beast was impressive, and seeing other preserved creatures made you glad they were extinct. Honestly, terrifying stuff.


    We went to a magical fair in Exmoor once¡ªMolly was buying yarn for sweaters there. But for us kids, it wasn¡¯t that interesting¡ªjust magical seedlings, fine yarn, fruits, vegetables, and enchanted livestock. The prices were sky-high, so we mostly just looked around. We couldn¡¯t afford much anyway.


    But Arthur tried to liven up our days. He had a lot of friends and never turned down a chance to help someone out. And he did it selflessly, too. He¡¯d skip a side job that paid two Galleons just to help old Whitsher, whose son he¡¯d gone to school with and visited on weekends a few times. When faced with a choice between his principles and profit, he always chose his principles. The pretentious ¡®noble purebloods¡¯ openly despised him for this, but his own people held him in high regard. And whenever the opportunity arose, they repaid him however they could.


    That¡¯s how we ended up with complimentary tickets to matches, passes to the magical zoo, or a spot for our tent in the magical Exmoor reserve. There was even a direct two-month family portal to a magical beach in Ilfracombe, where we went every day.


    I won¡¯t lie¡ªsometimes, when he talked about his deeds in the evenings, I couldn¡¯t understand or approve of his choices. When you¡¯ve got so many kids and aren¡¯t sure how you¡¯ll afford their school supplies, doing charity work and helping others just seemed wrong to me. An extra Galleon is always useful.


    And honestly, when things at home aren¡¯t perfect¡­ But he was raised with the belief, ¡°Do good, and good will come back to you,¡± while I was taught, ¡°No good deed goes unpunished.¡± We were just too different.


    But one lesson I learned in this house was that your opinion is only right one for you. Others might think and live differently.


    And to be honest, it¡¯s surprising, but somehow, we always managed. We didn¡¯t go around in patched clothes or go hungry, and the rest¡­ Well, as they say, grow up and create your own vision of the perfect family and personal goals. No one¡¯s stopping you. Over time, I learned not to judge and to just accept things as they were without overthinking. It wasn¡¯t my place to judge.


    Besides, with the older brothers back, Arthur took more night shifts¡ªthose paid better. And one day, he came home in high spirits and announced that Perkins had lent us a tent, so we¡¯d better pack quickly for a trip to the Exmoor Magical Reserve.


    Everyone cheered excitedly, and Arthur swept Molly into a hug, kissing her on both cheeks¡ªI¡¯d never seen him so happy. And then, almost casually, he miscalculated a bit and kissed her right on the lips.


    The older brothers immediately started whooping and whistling, while the younger ones pulled faces and pretended to gag, exclaiming, ¡°Ew¡± and ¡°Come on, Mum.¡± But everyone looked happy, and their eyes sparkled with joy. Molly, blushing and smiling, tried to fend off Arthur with a dish towel while he laughed and hugged her around the waist.


    That genuine, down-to-earth side of the Weasleys was something I grew to love, and I wouldn¡¯t trade them for any royal family.


    Molly packed up quickly and even had time to prepare some food. So, we all set off on our trip together, even bringing along Michael, Bill¡¯s friend who had come to visit.


    That was another thing I liked about the Weasleys. They took in a stranger without a second thought because their son brought him home, saying he had problems at home. They treated him like one of their own, without making any distinction between family and outsiders, even though the grocery bill surely went up.


    <hr>


    The magical reserve completely changed my perspective the moment I saw a unicorn. I even managed to pet one¡ªnot a full-grown one, it wouldn¡¯t let me, but two young foals with silvery and golden coats. You¡¯d think it¡¯s just a horse with a horn on its head, but in reality, it radiates such a calm, peaceful power. You immediately realize this creature is truly magical.


    We spent the whole week wandering around, wide-eyed, taking in the sights. Hidden among the leaves and grass were all sorts of magical creatures. We even spotted pixies and a tiny palm-sized dragon¡ªa pygmy silverwing, as the warden told us. And there were birds that looked like the Firebirds from fairytales. All the creatures emanated such strong magic that, for the first time, I truly felt it¡ªmore intensely than when spells were cast right next to me.


    Ginny got a colorful album, like a scrapbook, where she collected stickers of the creatures she spotted. At the end, they gave her a plush unicorn as a gift. The whole thing cost a Galleon, but us boys didn¡¯t complain about the unfairness¡ªshe¡¯s a girl, and we¡¯d manage without. We just enjoyed the trip.


    Unfortunately, most magical animals couldn¡¯t be touched, and we couldn¡¯t stay longer than two hours at a time. The warden, who accompanied our group, strictly enforced this rule. Our group included us and seven more people from nearby tents. We just watched the animals from a distance, marveling at their variety in their natural habitat.


    We spent the rest of our time at the local beach, only returning to the tent for meals and sleep. The tent wasn''t set up inside the reserve itself but a bit further out, in a designated camping area.


    Our group first traveled in three shifts using the Floo Network to reach the local nature museum next to the reserve. After that, we walked about ten minutes through the regular reserve to get to the camping site.


    Excited and looking forward to a week full of new experiences, we chatted loudly, laughed, and gestured animatedly. I joined in the fun, but then I noticed the disgusted looks from the people around us. To them, we must have looked like a rowdy bunch¡ªmaybe like a band of gypsies or a group of carefree hippies. An annoying speck in their refined view on this sunny day.


    For a moment, the world seemed to lose its color, and I felt a flash of hatred for all these polished, stuck-up folks who''d never really lived, never understood what life was truly about. But then, as if sensing my mood, my mother turned around, smiled at me, and gave me an encouraging nod. And just like that, the sun came back. I calmed down instantly, realizing there was no point explaining light to those who had never seen it. Let them keep living in their drab little world. I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the new magic around me.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    The enchanted tent was the most magical thing I had ever seen. I couldn¡¯t wrap my head around how it was possible. From the outside, it looked small, and we had to duck to get in, but inside it was a full-fledged three-room apartment. I immediately wanted to learn magic fast enough to do things like that myself.


    Unfortunately, the week flew by quickly, and we returned home. But we kept ourselves busy there too¡ªswimming, exploring all the surrounding areas, and going into the forest a few times to gather herbs for sale or catch magical frogs and lizards. In the end, we made only six Galleons all summer, split among us.


    The boys also spent the summer flying¡ªthere were only two brooms, so they took turns. I held back, though. The flights looked impressive, and I decided that after the brothers left for school, I''d ask the twins to teach me. For now, I just watched.


    The strangest and funniest task, in my opinion, was getting rid of garden gnomes. Honestly, I had no idea how to react to them.


    When I first saw one of those little creatures, about a foot tall, it didn''t seem ugly enough to make me afraid to touch it. The funniest part was that in a book on garden pests, the first method listed for removing gnomes was by grabbing and spinning them. I had thought the Weasleys had made that up to mess around under the guise of work.


    The second method involved poison, and the last suggested keeping a Jarvey. A Jarvey is like a ferret, but bigger and it lives underground, devouring everything around it, from mice to gnomes. But the Weasleys, being compassionate souls, found both methods too harsh and preferred the traditional way of gnome removal.


    When I first grabbed a squirming little gnome and started spinning it, I didn¡¯t expect it to yell, ¡°Let me go!¡± and out of surprise, I did. It ran off, loudly cursing.


    I had thought it was more like a mindless pest, like a snail or an insect¡ªso tossing a thinking creature headfirst didn¡¯t sit right with me. What if it cracked its skull? Was that really okay?


    I kept running into these little clashes between my old mindset and the new reality. Wizards are truly odd and irrational people from a Muggle¡¯s perspective. What seems strange to us is normal to them.


    So, I had to adapt quickly to avoid standing out. Soon enough, I got the hang of it and was tossing gnomes out like a pro.


    Of course, it was all pretty much in vain¡ªthe gnomes would always come back, usually within two days.


    I think the Weasleys considered anything that wandered onto their land as part of their own and worth caring for. An old, crippled rat, a ghoul, gnomes¡ªthey could easily have gotten rid of them if they wanted. But the Weasleys treated them like part of the family, just like they¡¯d cared for Michael, Bill¡¯s friend, for two weeks and later for Harry Potter. Even Ron was a fan of the Chudley Cannons simply because they were "his team." Who cared if they hadn¡¯t won anything in a hundred years?


    The Weasleys chose with their hearts based on their own criteria, not caring about status, wealth, or other things that mattered in the regular world. And I admired that, even if the rational part of me, used to a life of comfort and fighting tooth and nail for happiness, often won out.


    The garden had plenty of fruit trees¡ªapple, plum, pear, cherry. The trees were old, gnarled, overgrown, and long overdue for pruning. Among the berry bushes were raspberries, brambles, gooseberries, and currants. The grass was wild, a mix of herbs and cornflowers¡ªlike a meadow.


    There was plenty of land, but they¡¯d only set aside a small patch for vegetables¡ªa couple of rows of greens and carrots. It seemed they¡¯d never seriously considered starting a full vegetable garden.


    Later, as I got to know them better, I realized they didn¡¯t need one. They liked the shade of the overgrown trees, the untamed look of nature. They preferred grass underfoot instead of neat rows of crops, the scent of flowers in the air, with cozy benches and hammocks scattered among the trees. Birds sang from the branches and built their nests there. And as for vegetables? They¡¯d just buy those.


    Honestly, I could understand them. My parents had a summer cottage, a real one, with grass, birch trees, and wild mushrooms growing underfoot. The only garden bed we had was for strawberries. Our neighbor used to think we were crazy. For her, a beautiful garden meant neat rows of vegetables, so she chopped down all the old trees on her land. But that¡¯s her choice, right? My mom was too polite to argue with her, though she did quietly think of her as a bit of a philistine. In the end, everyone makes their own choices.


    I think that if the Weasleys were ever truly destitute, they might have planted a real garden. But as it was, they didn¡¯t need one. Even that lone carrot patch was really meant for the gnomes¡ªthey never even dug it up for winter, letting the gnomes pull the carrots out from under the snow themselves.


    _____________________________________________


    On July 20th, Percy got his Hogwarts letter. I had never seen my brother so excited. When the big, grumpy owl delivered the envelope, his hands were shaking so much that he practically rattled the bird as he untied the message.


    Of course, after the initial excitement, I asked to take a closer look at the letter. It practically radiated magic, with its seals and intricate details that made it feel straight out of a fairy tale.


    Mum threw a feast, and they decided to go shopping after Ginny''s birthday. In the meantime, Percy was marking off what he already had from the school list and started meticulously packing his things into an old trunk.


    Luckily, he got his set of textbooks from his older brothers. They also decided not to buy a new telescope¡ªBill and Charlie still had theirs, and the Astronomy classes for different years didn¡¯t overlap. So if Percy got into Gryffindor, he wouldn¡¯t have to run between floors. Not that he¡¯d mind running if it meant he could get a new wand¡ªbut there just wasn¡¯t enough money for it.


    He was supposed to inherit Charlie¡¯s old wand, made of ash with a unicorn hair core. Maybe I¡¯m mistaken, but I think it¡¯s the same one that ends up with Ron in the books. At least, the unicorn hair was poking out of its tip. Poor Percy was on the verge of tears, but he tried to put on a brave face to avoid upsetting our parents. In moments like these, I hated the Weasleys'' situation.


    Ginny¡¯s birthday went like any celebration at The Burrow¡ªfull of laughter and noise. She got a bunch of notebooks, some cheap jewelry, and other little things. Plus, a gold Galleon. Aunt Muriel didn¡¯t come to the party, but she sent Ginny five Galleons as a gift.


    Ginny was the most excited about the upcoming trip to the magical marketplace¡ªunlike us, she was getting brand-new clothes, not hand-me-downs.


    Of course, she didn¡¯t get to keep all the gold from Aunt Muriel, but with two Galleons, a kid could get a pretty decent wardrobe, even if it wasn¡¯t anything fancy. After all, the most expensive things in the wizarding world were robes.


    Ginny didn¡¯t need formal robes¡ªshe only wore them on rare occasions when visiting Diagon Alley with Mum, which happened once or twice a year. So, they stocked up on everyday clothes for her, and for Percy, they bought everything on his list except robes and a wand. Arthur had received his salary, and it was just enough. The adults decided to split the leftover money to prepare all the sons for Hogwarts, with plans to buy the rest when Arthur got overtime pay the following week. This plan seemed to work every year, but this time it hit a snag.


    When most of the shopping was done, Arthur came back with bad news¡ªhis department had made a mistake, and as the head, he got fined. Out of the 20 Galleons, only two were left, plus he managed to scrape up another one.


    They had no choice but to buy Percy¡¯s robes and give him the old wand, even though it wasn¡¯t a great fit for him.


    A set of everyday robes cost three Galleons, and it¡¯s something no student can save on. We could inherit regular clothes, but school robes, once purchased and fitted in the shop, were attuned to their owner. They were more like ritual attire, warding off outside magical energies¡ªnot curses or hexes, but random negative energy. Without robes, Hogwarts wouldn¡¯t even accept you. Maybe that¡¯s why there are so few accidents at school.


    While they were haggling over prices, Percy put on a brave face, but he was nearly in tears. He had set aside five Galleons but had already spent them¡ªbuying stationery, a planner, and an eagle-feather quill. He wanted to make a good impression as a serious student, but now this...


    So, I went and grabbed my stash, placing four Galleons on the table. ¡°Well, we¡¯ve never been rich, no point starting now,¡± I thought. He needed it more than I did. And I could save up for a wand over the next three years, probably.


    To my surprise, Charlie added one more Galleon, smiling as he ruffled Percy¡¯s hair. The twins exchanged glances and tossed in another, and even Ginny shyly handed over one too.

 Chapter 7

    I didn''t go with everyone to see Percy off at the platform. After his birthday on August 22nd, we had a serious talk.


    I explained that I wanted to see the magical train for the first time when I went to school myself¡ªfor the magic of the moment. Percy understood, so we said our goodbyes the night before, sitting together and chatting for a while. Percy, with a longing look in his eyes, promised to write to me every day. I hadn¡¯t realized before just how attached he¡¯d become to me.


    "Percy, why should we keep using school owls?" I suggested. "Let''s go ask Charlie to enchant a notebook for us. Remember how he told us about the Protean Charm? Then if we need to say something urgently, we won''t have to wait for an owl to fly back and forth. I¡¯ve got plenty of notebooks¡ªthey¡¯ve piled up from three birthdays.¡±


    Percy loved the idea, and we ran off to see our brother. But it turned out that such charms were at the N.E.W.T. level, and Charlie wasn¡¯t quite skilled enough yet. So, we had to go to Bill for help.


    Out of all the brothers, Bill was my least favorite. Charlie was down-to-earth, simple, and easy to understand, just like the rest of us. But Bill... He was always acting important, like he was all grown up and clever. Not that he didn¡¯t have reasons to be proud¡ªhe aced his exams and, on top of that, got made Head Boy this year. Mum admired him almost as much as she did Gilderoy Lockhart. So, he knew his worth and never missed a chance to show it.


    Honestly, the only thing I appreciated about Bill was that he took good care of his stuff, which meant they were of much better quality for me when I inherited them. But being friends with him was out of the question¡ªI can¡¯t stand it when someone talks down to me.


    Bill enchanted the notebooks for us, though not without reminding us that we were interrupting his ¡°important¡± work. But we got what we needed, thanked him, and dashed away from his airs.


    The morning of the departure was as chaotic as I¡¯d expected. Mum rushed around the house like a whirlwind, and I was relieved when the whole family disappeared through the fireplace, leaving the place quiet. If only we could send the twins off to Hogwarts too... Well, I¡¯ll probably survive another year.


    <hr>


    The following year was pretty uneventful, not much worth describing. I dedicated it to reading. Before, I¡¯d usually asked Percy for general knowledge about the magical world, observed things myself, and read a few pages before bed to learn the basics¡ªthere wasn¡¯t time for more. But now that I had a grasp of the basics and no one was bothering me, I could really dive into it.


    The Burrow had plenty of books, though they didn¡¯t seem all that academic at first glance¡ªold textbooks for various grades, general knowledge books, and some reference guides. But it was enough to keep me busy for a couple of years.


    I made sure to keep up with my writing lessons. Percy, by the way, praised my progress, saying I was getting quite good. He kept his promise and wrote to me every evening before bed, and sometimes even during the day if something caught his interest.


    I learned a lot about the school from him. Percy¡¯s descriptions were so detailed and vivid that it felt like I¡¯d been there myself, seeing everything with my own eyes. By the time I get to Hogwarts, I¡¯ll probably be able to find my way around the classrooms with my eyes closed and recognize every face I meet¡ªat least, if they¡¯re from Gryffindor, where Percy ended up. He hadn¡¯t made any close friends yet, but he¡¯d gotten along well with his dorm mates.


    I missed Percy. Sure, I enjoyed having more time to myself, but there was no one left to talk to at the Burrow. Sometimes you¡¯d read something and want to discuss it, but there was no one around. Ginny was too young, the twins were always busy with their experiments, and if they did answer, it was always with a joke or some teasing. Forget them. And asking Dad would only draw attention, and he¡¯d just say, ¡°You¡¯re too young for this,¡± and send me away.


    I¡¯ll say this in advance, after a whole year I still couldn¡¯t figure out what magic really is. Take a car, for example¡ªwhen it drives, you know exactly why it works. You can take it apart and put it back together. But magic is something more... elusive.


    None of the books had a definition of this energy. And I couldn¡¯t find anything on how to control it to create new spells, either. Everywhere I looked, there were just examples¡ªspells that had already been invented.


    It¡¯s like, ¡°Just wave your wand, say some mumbo-jumbo, and voila¡ªthe quill floats.¡± I realized that, for now, I¡¯d have to accept magic for what it is and not overthink it. At least for now. The important thing is to follow the instructions precisely. That should be enough for a start.


    But I believe there has to be some principle behind spellcasting. I imagine it as some kind of unknown code¡ªafter all, Snape invented that cutting spell somehow, which means there must be some rules to it. Otherwise, new spells wouldn¡¯t exist. But there were no books like that in our Burrow. Honestly, most of what we had there was complete junk. I¡¯ll have to look into it later when I get access to the Hogwarts library.


    One thing I realized is that I¡¯m not going to be a top student or the next Merlin. Even in my previous life, I wasn¡¯t much of a scholar, getting by on good looks and a decent memory¡ªand maybe a little leeway as an athlete. My grades hovered between Bs and Cs. If it weren¡¯t for my mom, I might not have finished school at all. I¡¯m a lazy guy at heart.


    Take Transfiguration, for example. I¡¯ve never seen such a dry and dense subject. The text is just a wall of words, written in such dry language that even with my thirty-year-old brain, I understood maybe one word out of five. I have no idea how I¡¯ll do with the practical part, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll fail the theory unless the teacher can explain it in simpler terms.


    The History of Magic, which Percy took with him, turned out to be a great read for kids¡ªeverything was laid out clearly and engagingly. It got a bit dull when it came to goblins, but that was mostly due to all the names and dates. Otherwise, it was an exciting story, full of battles and drama. It covered the Sorting Hat, the Founders, and the Houses¡ªeverything you¡¯d need. If I could summarize it in my own words, I¡¯d pass History. Also, it seems like the old Ron never cracked open a book when he spun that troll tale before the Sorting.


    Potions is truly a monumental subject. I found a book on it that¡¯s like an encyclopedia for medical professionals. With a little attention, a steady hand, and some common sense, anyone could brew potions in the magical world. But only for personal use. Nobody cared what you brewed at home or how you poisoned yourself.


    In class, they taught the basics: how to light a fire, measure ingredients, and follow recipes. Nothing too hard, as long as you pay attention. I think I can manage that.


    But in the upper years, they start teaching Advanced Potions. And to master those, just following the recipe isn¡¯t enough. It¡¯s assumed you understand all the interactions and processes in the cauldron. That requires not just a good head and memory, but memorizing the contents of twenty books from the library. Not my thing.


    There wasn¡¯t much on runes or numerology at home, and astronomy was mostly charts and diagrams¡ªboring, but it seemed manageable at first glance. We¡¯ll see.


    Herbology felt more like a chore than a serious subject, and it was dull too. The practical part involved digging, weeding, and hauling manure. The theoretical side was like a gardener''s journal. For example:


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.March 13th. Waning moon. Plant the thing.


    June 18th. Waxing moon. Fertilize the thing.


    August 20th. Full moon. Harvest the thing.


    But that¡¯s just the school curriculum. For those who pursue it further, there''s even more information than Potions. You have to know everything: soil composition, lunar phases, specific fertilizers for each plant¡ªyou name it. Not for me; I¡¯m no green thumb.


    Personally, Charms were the only thing that really captivated me¡ªI read every book on the subject, even my mum¡¯s pamphlets on cleaning and cooking spells. I was itching to try them out, and I liked the idea of making up my own spells when I had access to the right books. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have a wand yet. So, I focused on studying theory, hoping to secretly try some out with Percy¡¯s wand when he came back home for summer break.


    But I ran into a bigger problem: I had no idea what career path to choose. Sure, Hogwarts would give me more direction, but with the subjects I could handle, my prospects didn''t look great. In the books, Ron went into the Auror department¡ªthey don''t expect much book smarts there. But the idea of wearing a uniform didn¡¯t appeal to me. I value my freedom, not dealing with strict bosses and endless protocols. To me, it¡¯s still a prison, no matter which side of the bars you''re on.


    I know I¡¯ve still got time to decide, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to start thinking about it now. I can always change my mind later.


    <hr>


    The twins taught me how to fly. I can hardly believe it myself. Lifting off the ground on a broomstick... let me tell you, at first, it was more unsettling than scary. But once I got the hang of steering, Mum could hardly get me back for lunch, and the twins would get annoyed¡ªafter all, we only had one broom.


    I didn¡¯t try any fancy maneuvers. I just liked to fly. It was exhilarating to feel the broom respond to my slightest movement and soar forward in a smooth rush, like tearing down a highway at top speed. Of course, with two brothers competing for the broom, I didn¡¯t get much flight time¡ªone against two isn¡¯t great odds. But when I did get my turn, that was it; I stayed up there all day until Dad got home from work, no matter how much they yelled from below.


    Christmas at the Burrow was as chaotic as ever, but I noticed something different this year. Even though my parents tried to hide it, there was a hint of worry in their eyes. I picked up on it since I was around them all the time, but my brothers seemed oblivious.


    Aunt Muriel didn¡¯t send birthday gifts for Molly, Bill, or Charlie this year. She did send cards, but that meant the twins'' Hogwarts supplies would have to come out of our own pocket. I¡¯d guessed as much, but I think my parents had been holding out hope that she¡¯d change her mind.


    Muriel did send Ginny a Galleon for Christmas, so maybe she¡¯ll be the lucky one who gets to go to school with something new. Anyway, my parents were definitely concerned, even though they tried to keep it from us kids.


    After the holidays, when my brothers returned to Hogwarts, I noticed more changes. Dad started taking night shifts again and extra weekend work. Mum¡¯s meals became simpler. Meanwhile, I¡¯d saved up two Galleons from harvesting herbs in the fall¡ªPercy had shown me how before he left for school. And in the winter, Ginny and I gathered bark, which brought in another Galleon.


    Say what you will, but I¡¯m not letting go of that money. Percy¡¯s one thing, but the twins¡ªsure, they¡¯re great guys, but we aren¡¯t orphans who have to fend for ourselves. Helping out once is fine, but after that, Dad needs to step up. Otherwise, I¡¯ll never save enough for my own wand, and it¡¯s not like our parents can help with that. Without a proper wand, my chances of excelling academically are even slimmer. I¡¯d just end up playing chess and ignoring my studies¡ªit wouldn¡¯t make a difference.


    Still, something did brighten my mood, even if it didn¡¯t last long. Dad brought home a car. A 1964 Ford Anglia. Nothing fancy¡ªjust a basic, cheap model. But when I saw it, I nearly teared up, and my hands itched to tinker with it. I figured I could take a look while Dad was at work. But, nope.


    There wasn¡¯t anything left to tinker with. Every part was stripped¡ªonly the body, pedals, dashboard, seat, and steering wheel remained. It looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line, but...


    I asked Dad about it, and he gladly explained everything¡ªno one else at the Burrow shared his hobby, so he was eager to talk.


    His job was to disarm Muggle objects. According to protocol, after removing curses and filing reports, those items were supposed to be confiscated and destroyed. Magical interference often left a residue, especially with complex machinery, which caused it to malfunction.


    For smaller things, Muggles would get memory charms¡ªlike remembering that a mixer broke and got thrown away, or that they never bought one in the first place.


    But for larger items, that wouldn¡¯t work, so Muggles were made to believe their car had been stolen. Of course, it would never turn up again, but the Muggles were none the wiser.


    So Dad would bring home parts from various Muggle machines. Complete items weren¡¯t allowed, but bits and pieces for his collection were.


    He¡¯d take coins from enchanted wallets, for example. Those wallets often came with tricks: snapping at your fingers when you tried to open them, shrinking your money, or leaking ink. Muggles would be left with a mess, wondering what happened. But I never understood¡ªwhy bother enchanting Muggle stuff like that?


    Anyway, Dad kept those ¡®useless coins.¡¯ I used to think he was stealing from Muggles. But if he was, why didn¡¯t he spend the money? Why keep it in a glass jar? And why did the Weasleys live so modestly for supposed thieves? Turns out, the answer was that simple.


    He also had a collection of keys. They¡¯d come from enchanted wallets with key rings or clips. He liked keeping them because they were all different, and he enjoyed guessing what they might have unlocked.


    And those plugs? He only collected the unique ones, fascinated by the various designs and wondering where Muggles might have used them.


    He found the car at a junkyard. It had been roaming around at night with its lights on, scaring Muggles, and supposedly, it could even fly. How could Dad pass that up? He disarmed it, filed the report, and kept it for himself.


    He used magic to restore it, and now he¡¯s trying to figure out how it was enchanted to fly. There are some runes inside it, apparently. So, there¡¯s nothing I could do with it.


    So, I thinned out the jar of pounds¡ªafter all, it''s not a collection, just a stash. I only took two pounds, didn''t want to get greedy. But I didn¡¯t make it to the village and the store until spring.


    Finally, like a regular person, I strolled through the streets, bought some ice cream, and got a couple of candies for Ginny. I spotted a barbershop and a clothing store too. Not that I need any of that right now¡ªI don¡¯t have the money anyway¡ªbut it¡¯s good to keep in mind, just in case.


    Oh, and I figured out why Arthur built the house bit by bit instead of just adding a whole floor at once. Turns out, wizards build their homes on places of power so that the wards and other enchantments will hold. That way, enchanted things like fridges or washing machines actually work, you know?


    And you have to build these kinds of houses using magical materials, which, like everything magical, are pretty expensive. Regular wood from the nearby forest won¡¯t do¡ªit would crack from the magical energy and wouldn¡¯t last long¡ªthe house would eventually fall apart.


    In our "Burrow," only the walls, roof, and the bathroom with the toilets were made from magical materials. Everything else was built with ordinary stuff. That¡¯s why Arthur was always running around with a hammer. In a proper wizard house, you build it once and then sleep easy.


    It¡¯s the same with clothes. Molly even made her own dresses out of scraps to save money, because magical fabric is resistant to enchantments. You can clean it with magic, smooth out wrinkles, freshen up the color, or even transform it. Ordinary fabric would just fall apart after a few times, especially since I¡¯m wearing clothes handed down from my two brothers...


    At Hogwarts, the house-elves took care of the laundry. They didn¡¯t wash it; they cleaned it with magic. Maybe that¡¯s why Potter always looked like a ragamuffin¡ªhis clothes were Muggle-made? Anyway, wizards can wear Muggle clothes, but you¡¯d have to wash them by hand. If you try to clean them with magic, you¡¯d better have a few extra pairs because they wear out fast.


    In fact, even ordinary clothes would get worn out just from being around a wizard, even if you didn¡¯t put any spells on them. A wizard radiates magical energy into the space around them, creating a constant low-level aura. With powerful wizards, you can even feel it, like with cursed objects. Clothes would quickly fade and lose their shape.


    Regular notebooks weren¡¯t suitable for magical notes either; they were only good for rough drafts. Wizards used special ink on special paper¡ªparchment. Spell formulas, even in written form, carry power, so regular paper couldn¡¯t handle them¡ªit would disintegrate. That¡¯s why spells in textbooks are broken down into parts like Wing-gar-di-um Lev-i-o-sa. And that¡¯s why textbooks are so expensive in the wizarding world. Real books are even more costly¡ªthey¡¯re written on parchment made from the hide of magical creatures, and they come with protective enchantments so the power of the written words doesn¡¯t hurt anyone when they¡¯re read.


    The more I learned, the wider the gap seemed between the Muggle and magical worlds, even though they¡¯re practically right next to each other.

 Chapter 8

    My birthday brought a few disappointments. Instead of the usual galleon, I got a set of enchanted chess. It used to belong to Grandpa¡ªArthur''s father. Made me think we¡¯re seriously broke, and things probably aren¡¯t getting any better.


    I did like the gift, though¡ªit was magical, and I value anything magical since, until now, all I had was an alarm clock. Now I had a chess set.


    They were beautiful, old, made from walrus ivory, but there was only half a set¡ªthe white pieces. They could change to black if my opponent also had a white set.


    Turns out each player is supposed to have their own set. The pieces only listen to their owner; otherwise, they¡¯ll argue, give false advice, and confuse you, making it almost impossible to win with someone else''s.


    Watching the ¡°living¡± pieces was interesting, but I never came to love chess. My brain just doesn¡¯t work that way. I can remember a chain of moves to the end of a game if I watch someone else play, and I could repeat it if my opponent followed a familiar path. But planning five moves ahead? Not my thing.


    And it''s tedious, sitting there thinking through moves, waiting for your opponent to finally make theirs. I¡¯m a person of action, and the only thing that can keep me still is an interesting book. So I was actually happy I only had one set and wouldn¡¯t be forced to play.


    My joy didn¡¯t last long, though; Arthur had the other set¡ªthe black one¡ªand he used to torture me with it. His pieces were simpler, carved from wood. Thankfully, he later found a more worthy opponent¡ªBill¡ªand left me alone.


    Our Dandy¡¯s set, though, was clearly ancient, carved from stone and inlaid with silver. The pieces were two-toned¡ªhalf black, half white¡ªand the board was covered in mosaic, shimmering like a mirror. I bet if we sold that set, we¡¯d be able to send both Ginny and me to school along with the twins. It must have come from Mum¡¯s family¡ªthe Prewetts. But that would never happen.


    Bill has high ambitions, and that set is prestigious. When you get invited to play, your set says a lot about you¡ªit¡¯s an unspoken sign you belong in that social circle, not just a dressed-up pauper. You can save up for fine clothes, but treasures like that are passed down. And if you buy one, you can¡¯t pretend it¡¯s an heirloom.


    In England, from what I can tell, status is still everything. You could be as rich as Croesus, but you¡¯d never worm your way into high society and truly belong. But if you¡¯re an aristocrat, they¡¯ll accept you as an equal, even if you¡¯re from a poor family. As long as you remember your heritage and carry yourself well. That¡¯s Bill¡¯s aim. He wants to be part of the world his parents left behind. But as they say, blessed are the hopeful.


    Thankfully, Bill never forced me to play chess, and sometimes I¡¯d take Dad¡¯s set and have fun¡ªgiving random commands to the pieces and watching them battle it out.


    It was pure magic when, after the chaos, the shards slowly floated up at the end of the game, hovered in the air, then flew back to their boxes. It¡¯s like they reassembled themselves, good as new. I even tried holding a piece in my hand, but it would still slip away and fit itself back in. And they don¡¯t just move, they talk too. Really cool.


    In April, we celebrated the twins¡¯ birthday. No money for them either, but they did get brooms.


    Turns out the Ministry¡¯s Department of Magical Games and Sports not only organizes sports events but also ensures Muggles don¡¯t see us during games and competitions. They enchant stadiums and places for international tournaments, check that local stadiums are charmed properly, and register teams.


    Well, in late March, they dissolved a team in Yorkshire for botching the charms on their stadium, allowing around a hundred Muggles to see it.


    They disbanded the team, confiscated the equipment. Officially, all confiscated items are supposed to be destroyed, but in reality, the ministry folks divvy it up for themselves¡ªcan¡¯t let good gear go to waste. Ludovic Bagman, the department head, owed Arthur a favor.


    His nephew, who graduated from Hogwarts last year, had gotten into trouble with a friend. They enchanted some equipment in a Muggle caf¨¦, creating total chaos to the point where they couldn¡¯t even leave. Arthur happened to be on night duty and was the first to arrive. He took pity on the fools and let them off. If they¡¯d been caught, they¡¯d have faced more than just a fine¡ªMemory Charmers had to come in too.


    If word got out, Bagman might not have lost his job, but his reputation would¡¯ve taken a serious hit, and his nephew¡¯s ministry career would¡¯ve been dead. So Ludovic ¡°misplaced¡± a couple of brooms. ¡°Cleansweeps.¡± Not the newest model, but as good as Charlie¡¯s. Our brothers dreamed of joining a team, so we were lucky.


    In May, I committed my first act of treachery. I¡¯m not proud, but I had no choice.


    I was counting on the flowers Ginny had picked last year, but the twins had other plans and weren¡¯t even considering us, and I wasn¡¯t about to let them have it.


    So, I had to be sneaky. When Molly was cleaning their room, one of their magical firecrackers exploded, and they got grounded for three days for keeping dangerous items in the house. Magical flowers only bloom for a day, so Ginny and I collected them while they were stuck indoors. Six galleons¡¯ worth. We each got one, as usual.


    The twins weren¡¯t idiots¡ªthey figured it was my doing since it could only have been me or Ginny. When they were finally free, they confronted me.


    ¡°Yeah, I set you up,¡± I admitted, ¡°go ahead and punch me if you want. I won¡¯t fight back.¡±


    ¡°And why?¡± Fred narrowed his eyes, threatening.


    ¡°To get those flowers before you grabbed everything.¡±


    ¡°So, you wanted the cash?¡± the other drawled.


    ¡°What? It¡¯s not about money,¡± I shot back, glancing at his fists. ¡°It¡¯s for Ginny.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°What¡¯s she got to do with it?¡± George asked, surprised.


    ¡°You two always keep everything to yourselves. We¡¯re all in the same boat, and everyone could use the money. I can strip bark, climb trees for buds, but Ginny¡¯s a girl. You think she should climb trees too? It¡¯s easier for her to pick flowers, and it¡¯s fun for her. And she¡¯s saving up for a Puffskein. You two have brooms now, but she has nothing.¡±


    ¡°The brooms aren¡¯t ours! They¡¯re shared,¡± George quickly objected, exchanging a glance with his brother.


    ¡°Sure, keep talking,¡± I smirked. ¡°When are we even supposed to use them, then? In winter, when you¡¯ll be at school? You two fly them together when you¡¯re home, and next year, you¡¯ll take them to Hogwarts. If you make the team, we¡¯ll never see them again. It¡¯s fine, just take them; I¡¯ll stick with my old one. Percy doesn¡¯t need it, and Ginny¡¯s totally out of luck. She¡¯s been saving up for a pet since she saw one at the zoo. She wanted to buy one for her birthday but gave her Galleon to Percy, and now she¡¯s short. So I made sure she¡¯d get something too. You guys can perch in a tree if you want, I won¡¯t mind,¡± I said my piece.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have just told us?¡± Fred replied for both of them after a pause and a look, ¡°did you have to cause all this drama? That was our last firecracker, you know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like you¡¯d listen to me,¡± I smirked skeptically. ¡°Well, if you want, I¡¯ll give you my Galleon after we gather up the buds,¡± I offered.


    ¡°Keep it, hero. All right, it¡¯s forgotten,¡± George said, giving me a light smack as he headed for the exit.


    ¡°And don¡¯t get cheeky, Ron. Let¡¯s not have a repeat of this,¡± Fred added in farewell to George¡¯s smack. Thank the gods, I got off lightly. The last thing I wanted was a house war.


    I earned another Galleon from the buds. The twins caught up on their frog and lizard-catching duties. I didn¡¯t get involved ¡ª let them earn their keep. It¡¯s just too bad Percy¡¯s now left without any money ¡ª not much to gather over the summer. I¡¯ve already hidden away four Galleons.


    Then, the boys came back from school, and the regular summer days began. Though this summer, we only managed to go to a few Quidditch matches ¡ª Dad¡¯s colleague got us tickets for the whole season. Aside from that, the parents were cutting costs wherever they could, though you couldn¡¯t really tell.


    The table was still full of food, but we¡¯d switched from beef to pork. Whole cuts of meat were mostly replaced with patties and meatballs, chicken-based soups, and cream sauces were closer to milk sauces now, even tomato. But Mum cooked so well it was barely noticeable.


    Sweets, though, were a different story. Dad didn¡¯t bring home much anymore, and when he did, it was cheaper stuff like toffees and lollipops. No wonder book-Ron went nuts over chocolate frogs on the train. Judging by us, it seems like he hadn¡¯t had any for two years. But I¡¯d been slipping out coins from the jar and sneaking Ginny chocolate whenever I could. It really brought us closer. Personally, I was more into pies than sweets, but she had a sweet tooth.


    Things didn¡¯t work out with the wand. The moment Percy arrived, Arthur confiscated it and locked it away. To me, it was a complete waste.


    But Arthur stuck to the rules and wouldn¡¯t budge. Summer was for theory ¡ª reviewing old material and reading new stuff, plus extra books for practice. Never mind that we didn¡¯t have the right books in the house.


    Apparently, there was a magical library in London, but you needed a subscription, which cost ten Galleons per person per year. Way out of our budget.


    Bill flatly refused my idea of trying a spell with his wand and kicked us out. Charlie¡¯s wand barely managed three sad sparks before flat-out refusing to respond to me. So, I¡¯ll just have to wait till I can buy my own. At least I got to hold one.


    Percy was practically glowing with excitement. He loved learning, and even though he missed us, he couldn¡¯t wait to go back to Hogwarts.


    He¡¯d made friends with a Hufflepuff boy, and they¡¯d started writing letters. The boy sent them by a gorgeous big owl, which paced our windowsill proudly while Percy wrote back, refusing to let anyone pet him.


    We had a family owl too ¡ª Errol. So old he was nearly mummified, but he still delivered letters reliably, though we tried not to overburden him.


    For Percy¡¯s and Ginny¡¯s birthdays, we only had a nice dinner, nothing more. Thank goodness, we had just enough for the school supplies. Ginny was quite tactful and only bought her pet after the boys left for Hogwarts.


    After the twins left, it got so quiet in the house it was like a library. At first, Ginny followed me around like a little shadow, but then Molly got serious about teaching her how to write with a quill, read expressively, and even some purely girly wisdom. I stayed out of it.


    The funniest thing was that Ginny¡¯s new favorite story became ¡°The Tale of Harry Potter, the Knight of Light Who Defeated the Dark Wizard.¡±


    The booklet itself was thin, but Molly had turned it into a full-fledged tale with fantasy elements, a pinch of thriller, and a heap of magic. Like, ¡°the brave hero endowed with immense strength. No matter how the Dark Wizard tried to kill him, he couldn¡¯t. Once, twice, he cast the killing curse at the infant, and on the third try, he crumbled to dust at the hero¡¯s feet. All the hero had left from that fierce battle was a scar on his forehead to remind the Dark forces of his power.¡±


    In the magical world, there weren¡¯t any tales like ours. Well, they were, but not like ours, with magical heroines and little hunchbacks. Not fantasy either, like Snow White or Cinderella. They were either too childish, like our turnip tale and american hungry caterpillar, or too deep and philosophical, like ¡°The Deathly Hallows,¡± closer to legends and myths. So with Harry Potter, the girls finally had a real, modern hero. And as they say ¡ª touch history.


    At the end of September, I got lucky. You could say I found myself a birthday gift. I found a bicycle ¡ª or rather, pulled it out of the river near the village. It looked like it had been underwater for ages, all rusty, with a slightly bent frame, and the seat was either rotted or moldy.


    I thought long and hard about whether it was worth dragging home since it looked pretty hopeless. But then I decided to ask Arthur.


    Arthur latched onto my idea with enthusiasm. He even went all the way to the river with me. Then he shrunk it, and we took it home to the garage.


    That¡¯s what I love about magic ¡ª one gesture, and the thing looked as good as new. Well, almost. At least the rust was gone. The paint had long since peeled, and the seat was as wrecked as ever. But the wheels were intact, just needed a little air. The bike was from the sixties at least, a ¡°Pashley¡± with a low frame. I¡¯d never seen one like it; I¡¯m more into cars. I had a local-made bike as a kid. But right now, anything would do.


    Later, I went to the village. I bought metal paint, a pump, and they told me to look for a seat at ¡°Johnson¡¯s Auto Shop.¡± Gave me the address. It was pretty far, almost on the other side of town, past the department store. I hadn¡¯t been to that part yet. It was late today, so I figured I¡¯d go tomorrow morning, after breakfast, when Mum¡¯s busy with Ginny.


    I found the shop quickly, though it took over an hour to get there and I got a bit lost by the department store. But as soon as I reached the gates and peeked inside, I knew they¡¯d need a crane to pull me away from here. Because there, in the repair zone, stood her ¡ª the car I¡¯d worked on in my past life. A 1961 Jaguar. This ¡°English Cat¡± had been bought by a guy for three hundred thousand bucks at an auction. I remember spending four months on this baby. Only that one was green metallic, and this one¡¯s blue.


    ¡°Hey kid, what¡¯s up?¡± asked a big guy with a mustache in a work suit, wiping his hands, ¡°lost, are you?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m definitely where I need to be,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Sir, please hire me.¡±

 Chapter 9

    For a moment, the big guy just stared at me in dumbfounded silence, then snorted loudly and suddenly shouted, ¡°Hey, Matthew, get your scrawny butt over here, now!¡± A red-haired guy with a steaming mug peeked out from the back room right away.


    ¡°What do you want, Gill? I¡¯m on my break,¡± he replied, eyeing us curiously and taking a noisy sip.


    ¡°Just wondering if this little rascal is one of yours,¡± the big guy said, looking me over like I was some kind of exotic animal.


    ¡°Are you serious, boss?¡± the redhead protested, choking a bit on his coffee as he stepped closer. ¡°I¡¯m twenty-three, and the kid here is, what, ten? You think I had him back in school? Anytime anything happens, I get blamed. ''Oh, it must be the ginger.'' So who¡¯s the kid?¡±


    ¡°Says he wants to work here. Just like you did back then. How old were you then? Twelve?¡±


    ¡°Maybe enough with the jokes?¡± I cut it, shifting from foot to foot and glaring at both of them. ¡°I¡¯m serious. I really want to work here.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, kid, we don¡¯t need you here,¡± said the workshop owner, finality in his voice. ¡°Grow up some, then come back, and we¡¯ll see. For now, go play with the other children.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± I said resolutely, gripping onto a tool rack. ¡°You¡¯ll have to pry me off.¡±


    ¡°You hear that, Matt?¡± Gill smirked. ¡°I told you, your kind ¨C those cheeky redheads. Look, kid, we don¡¯t have work for you here. We do real work here. What could a ten-year-old possibly do?¡±


    ¡°Loads,¡± I shot back. ¡°Wash cars, sweep up trash, polish glass or headlights, sand out small scratches, wipe down parts. I could even do deliveries¡ªonce I get my bike fixed,¡± I added, after thinking it over.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± the man chuckled, glancing at Matt. ¡°What¡¯s your name, lad?¡±


    ¡°Ron,¡± I relaxed a bit and let go of the rack, realizing they weren¡¯t going to kick me out just yet.


    ¡°So, Ron, you really need the money?¡± the big guy asked, casually looking over my clothes. The frilled blouse under my windbreaker could easily be mistaken for a girl¡¯s, so I quickly tucked it in. ¡°Damn wizards and their outdated fashion,¡± I muttered to myself.


    ¡°Not really, but twenty quid a week wouldn¡¯t hurt,¡± I said, lifting my chin proudly.


    ¡°Blimey! And to think you, Matt, started off at a fiver,¡± the big guy grinned.


    ¡°Inflation, boss,¡± I replied with a humble smile, shrugging as Matt snorted into his mug, spilling coffee.


    ¡°So why come here?¡± the redhead joined in, wiping the spilled coffee with his sleeve and eyeing the stain skeptically. ¡°There¡¯s a cafe across the street from the department store. Mr. Chase needs an assistant. They don¡¯t pay much, but you¡¯d get to eat pastries every day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not into sweets,¡± I replied coolly, squinting in irritation. ¡°Offer it to your girlfriend. She¡¯ll appreciate it. I¡¯m into cars. Got it? I¡¯d have to save for a hundred years to buy a beauty like that,¡± I nodded toward the car, ¡°but at least I¡¯d get to be around it.¡±


    ¡°The lad¡¯s a connoisseur,¡± Gill whistled, lightening the tension. ¡°Go on then, take a closer look. Just keep your mitts off the interior."


    Eagerly, I walked around the beauty, crouching down, tapping the wheel, and running my hand along its sleek side. Now that was a car¡ªnot some Ford Anglia. Wizards are idiots with their brooms. Though, according to the book, a ¡°Firebolt¡± broom was pretty cool too. We¡¯ll see if I live to see one.


    ¡°So, what do you think?¡± the big guy asked, watching me with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s awesome,¡± I answered honestly, unable to hide my excitement as I looked up at him, eyes shining.


    ¡°You even know what car this is, kid?¡±


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s a 1961 Series 1 Jaguar E-Type. Engine from the XK150, 3.8 liters. Tops out at 150 miles per hour,¡± I rattled off under their amazed stares. ¡°Zero to sixty in seven seconds. It has an independent rear suspension with twin coil springs and transverse arms, copied from race cars. The unique feature? The brake discs are near the differential. This reduces unsprung weight, making it much easier to handle. They stopped production in ¡¯74.¡±


    ¡°Matthew, did you hear that?¡± Gill finally spoke, still astonished. ¡°Boy probably knows more than you at his age. You surprised me, kid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nine, sir. I spent my whole childhood hanging around my uncle¡¯s workshop,¡± I lied smoothly. ¡°So, will you hire me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he dodged. ¡°In the meantime, grab some cleaning supplies. Matt will show you, and start by scrubbing down the office. Make it sparkle.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I straightened up and followed the grinning redhead to the second floor. ¡°I¡¯ll be quick.¡±


    ¡°No need to rush, just do a good job,¡± the big guy called after us, nodding disapprovingly.


    ¡°One doesn¡¯t get in the way of the other, boss,¡± I called back.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said the redhead, looking over the dusty¡ªthough not dirty¡ªoffice. ¡°When you¡¯re done, come back downstairs. Return the buckets to the storage room. And don¡¯t worry about the boss. He might yell and throw out a few choice words, but he¡¯s fair. Just don¡¯t touch his desk; he doesn¡¯t like that,¡± Matt warned, shutting the door behind him.


    It took me over an hour. I even watered the two sad little plants and hopped down the stairs.


    ¡°Boss, job¡¯s done,¡± I reported. ¡°Now will you give me a real assignment?¡±


    ¡°For starters, head to the kitchen. Matt will pour you some tea,¡± the man grumbled, ¡°and I¡¯ll go check what you¡¯ve done.¡±


    When he came back, Matt and I were finishing our third sandwich.


    ¡°Five pounds, kid, to start,¡± Gill said. ¡°Come by Saturdays and Sundays from ten to one. I¡¯ll save some work for you. Now off you go; we¡¯ve got work to do too.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± I beamed, heading for the door. ¡°Oh, I almost forgot why I came,¡± I remembered at the last second, coming back to hand him a scrap of paper. ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not in stock, but I can order it,¡± Gill said. ¡°With that outdated model, it¡¯ll run you about forty pounds at least.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll work,¡± I replied, pulling out a twenty and flashing him a sly smile. ¡°Just take the rest out of my pay.¡±


    "The kid¡¯s no slouch," Matt laughed and winked at me.


    "Now bugger off, and I don¡¯t want to see you around here before Saturday!" Gill grumbled, but he didn¡¯t comment on my bold statement.


    I didn¡¯t walk home¡ªI practically flew. Memories of my past life swirled in my head. It felt like I¡¯d traveled back in time for an hour, back to a world I knew inside and out. The familiar smells, the clinking of tools, the men¡¯s conversations and strong words. It was like I was an adult again, even if it was all just an illusion.


    I think I actually managed to surprise Gill. Of course, he wouldn¡¯t trust me with real work, but at least I¡¯d have something to do. This year, I feel so lonely. Arthur¡¯s at work most of the time, and the house is full of girls¡ªI can¡¯t just tag along with them. I won¡¯t get to study textbooks until next year, when the twins move up to second year and pass down their first-year books. Percy also promised to teach me some spells this summer. It won¡¯t be with a real wand yet, just a pencil, but still.


    Damn, what a car.


    As if I wouldn¡¯t know about it. I had a Jaguar in my previous life, too. I was even in the Jaguar Club of Russia.


    An XJ-S from ¡¯85. Flamenco Red. It was from an era when a coupe was exactly what a coupe should be, not some SUV or minivan. Passionate, responsive¡ªit¡¯d tear off the line like a beast even at just 1,500 RPM. You push the pedal, the speedometer needle climbs steadily, and the pull never fades... You can hardly feel the shift between gears...Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    My baby went through seven owners before it found its way to me. From a diplomat to a banker. I shelled out seven hundred thousand rubles for it, but it was worth every penny. And oh, the way girls reacted to it¡­


    I bought it right after I¡¯d finished restoring some guy¡¯s Jaguar to perfection, and I¡¯d fallen in love with it during that time. I practically lived in the workshop for four months. Even folks back on the Foggy Isle appreciated my work. His car won the main prize for restoration at a Jaguar Club event in England in 2017.


    I used that money to upgrade my own car. Before that, I had a German make. Pity there weren¡¯t many roads in Russia suited for a car like that, but I still managed to take it for spins. Oh well. Forgotten now. In this life, it¡¯s only broomsticks for me. Although, damn it, I¡¯ll earn one of my own someday, I swear.


    But then the house came into view, and I shook off all thoughts that didn¡¯t belong here. I wasn¡¯t Alexander the Muggle who didn¡¯t believe in magic anymore; I was Ron¡ªa wizard with strange Muggle hobbies. And why not? I had a built-in excuse¡ªArthur, a Muggle-lover and collector of magical gadgets. Like father, like son¡­


    After Mum scolded me for being late for lunch, I ate and then spent time flying on broomsticks with Ginny until Dad came home. Ever since the twins taught her to fly this summer, she¡¯s become a real daredevil. She flew around like a pro. I wasn¡¯t as fast or agile, but I didn¡¯t miss a single ball, sending them back with gusto. Charlie said I was a natural keeper.


    Then Arthur came home, and we had dinner. I never thought I¡¯d say this, but without the twins, the house feels dead. Everyone¡¯s just politely chatting. It suited me in a way, but for the Burrow, this quiet calm feels unnatural. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if my parents decided to have another kid or two when we¡¯re all off at school¡ªjust to break the silence.


    After dinner, I helped Ginny bathe her pet puffskein. She named it Arnold. The twins promised to work some magic to make it pink, but for now, it lives in blissful ignorance as a beige fuzzball.


    When it was clean, we found out it actually has legs¡ªtiny, but there. Its body is about three times smaller than its head, so with all that fur, it just looks like a little fluffball.


    Before bed, I caught up with Percy. Unlike his letters to Mum, he poured out all his frustration to me. The twins¡¯ ¡°trick kits¡± had made a sensation in Gryffindor. They¡¯d sold (the horror!) their inventions on Halloween and now they were the school¡¯s favorites. Even the older students don¡¯t mess with them. And if any of their classmates don¡¯t like it, they¡¯re too scared to take on the twins and complain to Percy instead, expecting him, as their older brother, to rein them in.


    He¡¯s worried their antics will hurt his status in Gryffindor and his future career.


    I advised him to distance himself from the twins. We may be brothers, but we¡¯re not one entity. As long as he keeps fuming and feeling embarrassed for them, people will keep bringing their complaints to him. Those two aren¡¯t going to change. I think he understood.


    I couldn¡¯t wait for Saturday. After breakfast, I asked Mum for permission and practically ran the whole way. I even stopped at a shop to buy a T-shirt so I wouldn¡¯t be flashing my blouse again. I promised myself I¡¯d eventually replace my whole wardrobe, even if it meant buying clothes more often. It¡¯s not like I could spend my money on much else here anyway.


    At first, I mostly got minor errands¡ªfetch this, bring that. Clean up, pour some coffee, sort parts. But then they noticed my work, and I started getting more serious tasks I could handle with my limited strength. They even raised my pay to ten pounds, then fifteen.


    Gill was teaching me the tricks of the trade along the way, and since I already knew a lot, I picked things up quickly. He liked me. I think he considered me a gifted kid, though he never praised me¡ªjust gave a satisfied grunt now and then. And it felt good¡ªfeeling like a pro, knowing that others saw it and appreciated it too. To know that there¡¯s something I, Ronald, excel at, not just blundering around like I do in magic. I was happy.


    Trouble started after Christmas, when the twins went back to Hogwarts. At first, I only came on Saturdays and Sundays, as agreed. Then I started dropping by for ten minutes midweek, just to chat. Then I began staying to clean the office. And somehow, by Christmas, I was showing up at the workshop every day and staying till lunchtime.


    I wasn¡¯t keen on loafing around the house all week anyway. And when the snow came and the winds picked up, Mum banned us from flying, and I was bored out of my mind.


    Gill stayed quiet at first, but after Christmas, he couldn¡¯t hold back anymore. He gave me a grilling, thinking I was skipping out on school or running away from the orphanage on the other side of the village. I could understand the guy¡ªwhy would he need that kind of trouble?


    In short, I told him that I wasn¡¯t going to school but taking tests once a month. I¡¯d heard of something like this before, but it was in America. Who knows, maybe they do it here too? It seemed to work because Gill didn¡¯t have any children¡ªwell, he did, but they were already grown¡ªand he wasn¡¯t up to date on how things were these days. But he still wasn¡¯t completely satisfied.


    ¡°Ron, I believe you, but if you want to hang around here more than two days, bring one of your parents with you,¡± he said straight up. ¡°I don¡¯t need legal issues here. You¡¯re not stupid, you get it.¡±


    So, I had to go ask Arthur.


    ¡°What?¡± Molly exclaimed, outraged. ¡°Arthur, this is all your influence. I told you, your interest in Muggle stuff would lead to no good. Why did you bring that Muggle monstrosity into our garage?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a car, mum, there¡¯s nothing dangerous about it,¡± I interjected, trying to divert her attention to me before Arthur, feeling guilty, would give in to her. The fact that she didn¡¯t like Muggles was a big surprise to me, otherwise, I wouldn¡¯t have brought it up in front of everyone during the evening get-together in the living room.


    ¡°And what¡¯s wrong with that, mum?¡± I went on the offensive. ¡°I¡¯m bored, just wandering around the house.¡±


    ¡°Bored? Play with your sister,¡± she snapped, but softened a little.


    ¡°With dolls? Or do some embroidery?¡± I retorted. ¡°I¡¯m a guy, I¡¯m not interested in your girly things. But there, I like it. I¡¯ve learned so much. I asked you to let me practice with a wand, and you refused.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to clean up your messes off the walls?¡± Mum asked, raising her eyebrows sternly. ¡°When you go to school, the professors will teach you,¡± she added.


    ¡°Exactly, what am I supposed to do at home?¡± I insisted. ¡°And why cause a panic? It¡¯s only for a couple of years, just until Hogwarts.¡±


    ¡°Hm, Ron,¡± Dad diplomatically began, while mum caught her breath, preparing new arguments. ¡°I understand your desire to get involved with the Muggle world. Honestly, I¡¯m fascinated by them myself. But Muggles are different from us, they can be dangerous. And the Statute of Secrecy¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to go shouting from every corner that I¡¯m a wizard, dad,¡± I countered. ¡°Come with me, and you¡¯ll see they¡¯re great guys. You¡¯ve always encouraged me to be independent. Well, dad¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go,¡± Dad decided, trying to hide his pleasure and excitement.


    ¡°Arthur!¡± Molly protested, but quickly quieted down when he gave her a serious, calm look.


    ¡°I think we¡¯re overestimating the danger, Molly,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think Ron will be harmed by interacting with Muggles. On the contrary, this experience could be useful to him. I¡¯ll go with you tomorrow, Ron, before work,¡± he said, and that was the end of the conversation.


    While I was leading Dad, I got nervous. My heart was racing like I was running a hundred-meter dash. He kept asking about cars and Muggles the whole way. I was sweating from fear¡ªwhat if he blurted something out, and my job was ruined? I realized that these were his first Muggles, ones he would interact with without a wand or Obliviate. And problems didn¡¯t take long to arise.


    As soon as we walked into the workshop, Dad¡¯s gaze swept over the room and got stuck on the car. His eyes lit up with excitement. He looked around curiously, like a child, and only my hand squeezing his stopped him from jumping around the place, trying to look closer and touch everything Muggle-related.


    He let out some muffled exclamation and blissfully closed his eyes. I sincerely hoped he wouldn¡¯t pass out from ecstasy here, so I yanked his hand to snap him out of it. But then the men came out from the backroom.


    ¡°Mr. Johnson, this is my dad, Arthur Weasley,¡± I introduced my father weakly, and the men shook hands.


    ¡°Gill,¡± my boss introduced himself.


    ¡°Arthur,¡± Dad shook his hand enthusiastically and started talking rapidly, as if he had been waiting to burst. ¡°Happy to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Gill replied, stunned by Dad¡¯s enthusiasm and barely managed to pull his hand back.


    ¡°Please, come through to the kitchen, sir,¡± he offered, giving Dad a once-over, his eyes lingering on Dad¡¯s outdated, worn brown velvet suit and the ancient cloak he had turned into his robe. He turned and led the way. Dad kept turning his head, trailing behind him, forgetting about me, while Matthew silently watched the scene by the door. I was left trailing behind them on shaky legs.


    ¡°Tea? Coffee?¡± Gill asked, pointing Dad to a chair.


    ¡°Tea, please,¡± Dad replied, hesitantly sitting at the edge of the chair, then quickly getting back up.


    ¡°This is a toaster, right?¡± he exclaimed, shining with joy as if he had found treasure. ¡°Ron, look, a real toaster.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it already, Dad,¡± I replied, horrified by what was happening.


    ¡°Your tea, sir,¡± Matthew interrupted us, quickly handing Dad a mug. Dad had to sit back down to avoid burning himself.


    ¡°So, you allow your son to come here?¡± Gill asked after a tense silence.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Dad said, suddenly animated. ¡°Though, to be honest, I had my doubts, but seeing it all with my own eyes¡­¡±


    ¡°Ron has a talent for this,¡± Gill continued. ¡°He must have inherited his love for cars from you. What car do you drive?¡±


    ¡°A Ford Anglia,¡± Dad beamed. He seemed to have relaxed a bit, and now he was proud to talk with a Muggle as an equal. ¡°I bought it recently, secretly from Molly. She¡¯s not a fan, but I¡¯m trying to fix it up¡­¡±


    ¡°Dad, don¡¯t you have work?¡± I asked. ¡°Mum won¡¯t be happy if you get in trouble with your boss and lose your bonus.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right, son,¡± Dad realized, suddenly flustered. ¡°Sorry, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you. Maybe I¡¯ll come by sometime to see how everything works here. Goodbye.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Arthur,¡± Gill responded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you out,¡± I jumped up.


    ¡°Ron, those were real Muggles, and I talked to them,¡± Dad whispered excitedly as I led him out. ¡°And there are so many plugs around¡­¡±


    Dad disappeared as soon as I got him behind the building and made sure there were no witnesses.


    After standing for a few minutes to calm down, I went back into the workshop. The kitchen greeted me with silence and two pairs of attentive eyes. My thoughts were swirling like crazy in my head.


    ¡°Uh¡­ my dad,¡± I started under the heavy stares, clearing my throat, ¡°he¡¯s one of the Amish¡­ Yeah. But we don¡¯t live in a commune, and he only has one wife, though there are seven kids¡­ He¡¯s not used to modern technology, but he really likes it,¡± I added, but then the rest of the words got stuck in my throat under their intense gazes.


    ¡°We figured that out already,¡± Gill snorted. ¡°So, you¡¯re one of them. A wizard.¡±

 Chapter 10

    The man quickly jumped up to me and shook me hard a couple of times.


    "Hey, hey, take it easy, lad. You''re gonna break everything here," he said, pulling me toward the chair and firmly sitting me down. Matt immediately handed me a mug and made me take a sip, while Gill stared tensely at the ceiling, at the flickering light, keeping one hand on my shoulder. The light flickered a couple more times before settling.


    "Now, that''s better," the man sighed with relief and flopped down beside me. "I can only handle one ginger with his tricks. By the way, Matt, pour me some coffee."


    The guy passed the boss the mug, poured some for himself, and for a while, we just silently drank, looking at each other.


    "Well, now tell me," Gill said, setting his mug down, "but no more tales about the Amish."


    "Well, what is there to tell," I began lazily, lowering my head, "you guys already know everything. Are you wizards too?"


    "No, I''m definitely just a bloke, but Matt here is a squib," Gill replied.


    "Squib?" I repeated automatically, trying to recall something. "A squib like Filch?"


    "Exactly. Do you know Filch?" Matt asked, surprised.


    "My brother wrote that a squib named Filch works as the caretaker at the school," I said, even more surprised that Matt knew him. "Do you know him too?"


    "He''s my granduncle" the guy grimaced. "Matthew Filch, at your service," he exaggeratedly introduced himself, "but I''ve never met him in my life."


    "Okay, you two chat for a while, boys, I''ll go finish up some things," Gill said, standing up. "Matt, you¡¯ll tell me later what I need to know."


    "Sir," I jumped up, but faltered under his attentive gaze, "what about me? Am I allowed to keep coming here?"


    "Not a problem, as long as you keep yourself in check like you did before. If the electronics break, I¡¯ll never be able to pay for it. And don¡¯t tell anyone from your world that we know, you know what I mean. I¡¯d rather keep my memory intact, it''s valuable to me," he added, laughing at his own simple joke, then headed for the door.


    "Come on, tell me," Matt urged, leaning across the table toward me, "spill it¡ªif you''re a wizard, how do you know so much about cars? Wizards are totally clueless about muggles'' stuff."


    "Well¡­ I lived with my mum''s cousin until last year, far from here. He''s probably a squib too. And I guess I was one, probably. Anyway, they gave me to him, then my magic woke up, and they sent me back," I explained. I figured Matt wouldn''t be able to check it.


    "Those bastards," he grumbled, banging his fist on the table. "Bloody wizards, with their habit of abandoning the kids. Although honestly, squibs are better off living with muggles."


    "Why don''t you live in the magical world like your grandfather?" I asked.


    "I don''t have access to it, lad," the guy replied seriously. "I''m a third-generation squib, and I can''t even get into the magical quarter."


    "How¡¯s that, third generation?" I asked, intrigued.


    "Well, look. Squibs only show up in old wizard families. Don¡¯t ask me why, I don¡¯t know, but they say it¡¯s because of inbreeding. Anyway, when a squib is born into one of those pure-blood families, that¡¯s the first generation. Then they have their own kids, also squibs, and they have theirs. I¡¯m from one of those."


    "Yeah, but Filch lives in the magical world, and you''re here," I asked.


    "First-generation squibs, they''re almost like wizards, just can¡¯t do magic," Matt explained, pouring us more tea. "Anyway, they can talk to magical animals, see creatures, ghosts, and sense magic too. They can see magical newspapers, while to me, it just looks like a normal rag. That¡¯s why they can live in the magical world. It''s familiar to them, they just can¡¯t do magic.


    But second-generation squibs can''t. But they still have this magical aura and some residual family talents. So, they usually do paranormal stuff in the muggle world. You know, healing with their hands, having prophetic dreams, doing tarot readings. They call ghosts. And third-generation squibs, like me, don¡¯t see anything or have any abilities."


    "But Gill said you have ¡®your tricks¡¯,''" I countered. This guy had told me more in ten minutes than I¡¯d learned in my whole life in this body.


    "No, not like that," the guy dismissed, smiling sadly. "It¡¯s just echoes. Sometimes electronics glitch around me, the light flickers, the TV gets interference, the cash register at the store often freezes when I try to print the receipt, or the tape jams. Oh, and my socks and shoes catch on fire, I can¡¯t buy new ones fast enough. You can¡¯t imagine how many people like me live without knowing they¡¯re squibs. Then a magical child is born from them."


    "When?" I asked, interested.


    "Who knows?" he replied. "Sometimes it¡¯s a couple generations later, and sometimes it takes so long that the people who knew their ancestors are long gone. That¡¯s why they end up at your school as muggle-borns, even though they have magical family members."


    "Matt, have you heard of ''blood traitors''?" I finally asked.


    "Yeah, know the basics, I reckon," the guy admitted. "Are you one of them?" At my nod, he answered, "It happens when you taint pure blood with dirty blood¡ªmarrying a muggle-born or a muggle. If your kid does that, they¡¯re supposed to be cast out, cut off from the family. Anyone who doesn¡¯t do that is going against tradition. And the whole family becomes tainted."


    "Wow," I couldn''t help but exclaim. "Is it really that important?"


    "It is for pure-bloods," he said. "They trace their lineage back for centuries, and then someone comes along and messes up the statistics. And it''s not just once. Once it happens, it happens again. And before you know it, their family¡¯s drowned in muggle blood," he smirked. "So, you¡¯re pure-blood?"


    "Not really. I''m a ''blood traitor,''" I answered, smirking. "Forget all that pure-blood rubbish. Let them mess with their own breeding, even with centaurs if the family code demands it. I''ll pass, thanks."


    The guy went silent in surprise and then burst out laughing.


    "You''re a strange one, Ron," he said, wiping his eyes. "I mean, I¡¯m not exactly a fan of wizards, like most Squibs, but you''ve surprised me. And your dad isn¡¯t exactly ordinary, either. By the way," he added, suddenly serious, "make sure he doesn¡¯t come around here again. The boss gets jumpy around magic folks, and a nervous Gill is a mean, cranky Gill."


    "Got it," I promised easily, secretly vowing I¡¯d do whatever it took to keep Dad away. "Why does he dislike wizards so much, anyway? Has he ever met one?"


    "Last year there was an incident," Matt leaned in and glanced at the door, lowering his voice. "Two guys and our Boss were coming back from a pub at night, and they saw something strange on the hill. Looked like a flying saucer or a glowing orb, with people appearing and disappearing around it. The Boss watched for about five minutes with the others, then went home, but the other two went to check it out. The next day, they couldn¡¯t remember a thing when he asked. They laughed at him, said Gill was seeing things like the town loon. They¡¯d been friends for nearly twenty years, but now they don¡¯t talk. I told the Boss they¡¯d probably had their memories wiped, which calmed him down a bit, but they never patched things up. Now Gill can¡¯t even go to his favorite pub. So, kid, take care of how he feels about things¡ªit''s worth a lot," he winked. "Come on, let¡¯s get back to work before the Boss runs out of patience. And don¡¯t ask me anything weird in front of him."


    That evening, I had a talk with Dad. I told him the boss said he¡¯d fire me if any relatives came by, saying it was a serious organization, not a public hangout. He understood, though he looked a bit sad. I¡¯m lucky he respects Muggles. Someone else might not have hesitated to rummage around a Muggle¡¯s mind if they dared tell a wizard what he could or couldn¡¯t do.


    Mum eventually cooled down too. She even stopped reacting when Arthur would ask in the evenings about what we¡¯d done in the workshop.


    For my birthday, they gave me a Galleon. I guess things had gotten better financially. Ginny and I each made another two Galleons on our own, so now I had seven. But Matt gave me the best gift. He brought me three little booklets.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Hey, Matt," I said once, "do you have any books on magic I could borrow? All we have at home are reference books, old schoolbooks from who knows when, and cookbooks on charmed recipes."


    "Nah, no magic books. When Squibs get sent into the Muggle world, they take all their magical stuff, even amulets and charms. But I think there might be something Squib-related lying around in the attic."


    "Squib-related?" I asked, surprised.


    "Yeah," Matt mumbled. "Not all wizards are born strong. Some are weak, and their families try to help them develop their powers. It usually doesn¡¯t work, but sometimes they manage, and those kids end up in trade schools. Hogwarts only sends letters to the powerful ones. Anyway, someone figured out they could make money off Squibs, selling them self-study guides¡ªlike, do these exercises and maybe your magic will awaken. My gran spent her whole life trying but died a Squib. But maybe those books could be useful to you. I¡¯ll bring them tomorrow."


    "Matt, if you don¡¯t mind me asking," I ventured, "did you ever want to be a wizard?"


    "Sure," he admitted. "I waited for my letter till I was eleven, thinking maybe I just couldn¡¯t feel the magic. But when the letter didn¡¯t come, I was a little sad, then moved on. Gran was so bitter¡ªalways pursing her lips, acting like an aristocrat, always disappointed. She died unhappy and angry. I wanted a different life. So now, I¡¯m actually glad. Look, I want to propose to my Anna at Christmas. If I¡¯d been a wizard, no way would I be allowed to marry a Muggle. Appreciate what you have, kid, and don¡¯t long for what isn¡¯t meant to be. The stars are beautiful in the sky, but when you hold them, they¡¯re just stones. Why would you even want them?" He tousled my hair and walked off.


    In mid-June, my brothers came back, and The Burrow sprang to life as if it were young again. The stairs creaked and groaned, drafts blew through the corridors as teenagers rushed back and forth, doors banged, glass rattled, and the steady hum of voices filled the air like the buzzing of a beehive.


    I kept working, but only in the mornings, from nine to noon. Then I¡¯d come back to join the family and be part of all the fun.


    Of course, my bike made a huge splash at first. But after the twins fell off a few times, they agreed with Percy that brooms were better, and they left it alone.


    I kept quiet about work, and everyone who knew did the same. Ginny was on my side, and Mum figured it was best to keep quiet so no one else in the family got curious about Muggles. Officially, I just rode my bike around the neighborhood in the mornings. But everyone was so wrapped up in their own thing that no one even suspected anything¡ªexcept Charlie, maybe. One morning, I ran into him, and he gave me a knowing wink.


    We didn¡¯t go anywhere that summer, except for Quidditch matches, and the twins made a quick trip to the zoo with Dad.


    I gave the twins an idea when they finally managed to turn Ginny¡¯s Puffskein purple¡ªshe thought it suited him better. Who knows how many garden gnomes suffered from their experiments in the meantime, but they got it done.


    Once, I overheard them discussing how to spend the five Galleons they¡¯d saved from their sales on ingredients for their experiments.


    ¡°Better buy Arnold a girl,¡± I suggested. ¡°When Ginny takes her pet to school, all the girls there will want one, too. It¡¯ll catch on, and you¡¯ll make a ton of money. Puffskeins eat rubbish, so you won¡¯t go skint, and they breed twice a year, ten at a time. By the time Ginny leaves for Hogwarts, you¡¯ll have plenty to sell.¡±


    ¡°Hear that, brother George?¡± said one. ¡°Looks like our brother Ron¡¯s not an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Shocked, brother Fred,¡± the other replied. They¡¯d picked up this habit of tossing sentences back and forth like a ball this year. One starts, the other finishes. How do they make it work so seamlessly? It¡¯s like they can read each other¡¯s minds.


    "If you throw in a couple of Galleons from the sales, I¡¯ll tell you how to improve the product even more," I added casually.


    "Go ahead, if it''s worthwhile, we won''t leave you out," they said in sync, glancing at each other.


    "You could add some glitter to them and stick on some rhinestones," I said. "It¡¯d be even cooler if the puffskeins could change color to match their owner¡¯s mood, and if the tips of their fur glowed or shimmered. And you could make a mesh-style bag for them, also decorated with rhinestones. Check out Ginny¡¯s ¡ª I showed her, and she''s already knitted herself one. She¡¯s happy with it..."


    "And are we supposed to sew these bags ourselves?" Fred asked, pulling a face.


    "Why do it yourself?" I said, surprised. "Bring Ginny into the business. She can take care of the puffskeins while you¡¯re at school, and she can make the bags if you get her the yarn and glitter."


    "We¡¯ll think about it," George answered for both of them. And right before they left, Ginny had a new puffskein named Tilly under her care ¡ª a little white one.


    Just like he promised, Percy spent an hour each day that summer teaching me magic. Sure, without a wand, it wasn¡¯t the same, but it was still interesting. I learned all the spells from the first-year syllabus. There were about six in total. But Percy also taught me extra ones he''d found in the school library. Altogether, I knew twelve spells now.


    My teacher was as stubborn as Arthur. He refused to teach me spells from the second-year syllabus, insisting on sticking to a schedule so I wouldn¡¯t "overdo it." Whatever. I didn¡¯t take the lessons too seriously anyway; I just memorized the spells. Waving a pencil around like a wand felt a bit silly and childish.


    We also played Quidditch ¡ª well, something like it. We only had four brooms. I played Keeper, the twins were Chasers, and Ginny was Seeker. Charlie acted as referee. I didn¡¯t let a single Quaffle through, which drove the twins up the wall. I was really starting to like this game. I might have to start saving up for a broom. Just kidding. Two hundred sixty Galleons is out of my reach. Maybe I should write to Muriel?


    At last, we sent our students off to Hogwarts with a clear conscience. I still can¡¯t believe that next year it¡¯ll be my turn. Time has flown by.


    Ginny didn¡¯t bother me much. The twins bought her colored yarn, glitter, and other junk, so she was busy knitting puffskein bags, hoping to make a bit of money. Tilly had already given birth to a dozen babies, and Ginny was looking after them too. She¡¯d made an agreement with the twins that they wouldn¡¯t sell any colorful puffskeins until she got to school and had a chance to show off. Turns out, my little sister is quite the diva.


    I spent the whole winter studying the books Matt gave me. They turned out to be pretty useful. They explained in simple terms how to feel your magic and taught me how to control it. The exercises were a bit like yoga, but without the poses. You just lie down and try to sense it. Before starting, you had to clear your mind by focusing on your breathing. At first, I kept losing focus and even fell asleep a couple of times, but eventually, I got the hang of it.


    By Christmas, I could channel energy into a punch, find an object in a dark room, and give energy to plants. I practiced sharing energy with Ginny. Later, I tried it with my parents. Arthur didn¡¯t notice, but Molly felt it and hugged me back. It was an amazing feeling. I realized that Molly does the same thing when she cooks ¡ª she pours her magic into it. Maybe that¡¯s why everything she makes is so good.


    Late autumn brought me a new friend.


    One evening in late October, I was riding home from work when I noticed a lone figure standing in a field. For some reason, I felt uneasy. Maybe it was because her white hair was blowing in the wind, and her short coat left her skinny knees exposed. She looked like a single stalk of wheat in a cold field, long harvested.


    I rode closer and slowed down. The girl didn¡¯t even turn; she stood completely still, like a statue.


    Ditching my bike, I walked toward her and, as I got closer, saw she was standing in a deep puddle, with water about to spill over into her boots.


    "Don¡¯t move," I ordered irritably, annoyed that I¡¯d have to wade through the cold water. "Stay still, I¡¯ll come get you out."


    The girl looked up, and I was captivated. Now there were two fragile stalks shivering in the cold field. Her gaze was as pure as a child¡¯s, but unnaturally old, as if a century-old soul had been trapped in a child¡¯s body. A deep sorrow swam in her eyes, as if she mourned for the whole world. I froze, feeling like I was looking into an abyss.


    "I¡¯ve been waiting for you," she said in an ordinary, childish voice, breaking the spell. "Good thing you came so quickly. I was starting to get cold. Wait, I¡¯ll come over to you," she added, swaying a little. The dark water rippled at her feet.


    "Stay there," I said hoarsely, feeling like I¡¯d forgotten how to speak. "I¡¯ll come and help you out."


    "If you come over, the water will rise and spill into my boots," she said, "and that¡¯s very cold. Haven¡¯t you read about Archimedes? I¡¯ll explain it to you."


    The girl carefully backed away and stepped out of the puddle. She shook herself like a little bird and resolutely walked over to me.


    "Hi, I¡¯m Luna," she said, looking at me with her huge gray-blue eyes. "Thanks for coming so quickly. I barely got cold."


    "You were waiting for me?" I asked, confused, unsure how to react to her words or to her sudden appearance in my life.


    "The wrackspurts told me that if I came here today, hopped five times on my right foot, went into the deepest part without letting any water into my boots, and then stood perfectly still, my friend would come find me. That¡¯s you, right?" she asked, fixing me with a serious, evaluating gaze.


    "I guess that¡¯s me," I said, swallowing nervously, and the strange girl smiled. Her smile transformed her face, like the sun breaking through the clouds.


    "I knew it. Wrackspurts never lie," she said confidently, nodding to herself before looking back at me. "What¡¯s your name, my new friend?" she asked, tilting her head as if to view me from a new angle.


    "Ron," I replied, realizing that if I let her keep leading the conversation, we''d freeze to death out here. "Let¡¯s get you home, yeah? Where do you live?"


    "Over there," she waved vaguely in the direction of my house.


    "Brilliant, let¡¯s go," I held out my hand, and she trustingly slipped her small, ice-cold fingers into mine. I pulled off my scarf, wrapping it around her neck and head, then dug into my pocket and handed her my gloves. "Put these on."


    "Just what I needed," she said calmly, carefully straightening out the knitted fingers. "I was in such a rush, I didn¡¯t manage to grab mine."


    "No bother," I grumbled, shivering from the cold as I dragged her toward the road. "Could¡¯ve come some other time, you know."


    "What are you on about?" she huffed. "If I missed today, it¡¯d be ages before the chance came again, and I need you now, Ron."


    Her words left me gobsmacked.


    I popped her onto the bike rack, and we set off. As I pedaled and she softly hummed some tune, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder where to take her.


    The girl was a witch. Her magic was gently clinging to me, just like my little sister used to do, wrapping herself around me in my previous life. I decided I¡¯d take her to the Burrow. Once she warmed up, I¡¯d get her to tell me where she actually lived. I had a pretty good hunch about who this odd girl was ¡ª most likely, it was Luna Lovegood.

 Chapter 11

    Molly clapped her hands at our arrival and immediately sprang into action. She fussed over our guest, drying her off and feeding her. But I noticed her enthusiasm waned a bit as she got to know her new charge. After an hour and a half, she was casting glances at the girl that were a mix of disapproval, a hint of pity, and a good dose of thinly veiled irritation.


    Mum was straightforward, drawn to straightforward people, the type who responded well to her rather forceful care. She liked it when her efforts got a good reaction, like when we all dug into her cooking with gusto ¡ª that meant she¡¯d done a good job. She preferred that over a simple ¡°thank you.¡±


    But Luna¡­ she wasn¡¯t like us. She was like water ¡ª calm, detached, flowing quietly, observing but not engaging. Meanwhile, all the Weasleys were like fire, enthusiastically charging ahead, never pausing, always pushing their way in. I¡¯d never seen two people as different as Molly and Luna.


    Mum didn¡¯t like that her warm, earnest care seemed so coolly received. She couldn¡¯t see that Luna was answering her questions ¡ª almost like she was having a chat with herself ¡ª because she was genuinely trying to respond to everything Mum bombarded her with at the door.


    She¡¯d answered every question, even though Mum forgot half of them as soon as she asked. The kind of questions people ask to show interest without expecting answers. But Luna didn¡¯t know that and sincerely tried to give Molly the responses she thought she wanted.


    Then there was the way she picked at her roast as if she didn¡¯t care for it. Turns out she was forcing herself to eat the carrots, which she probably didn¡¯t like. She¡¯d have eaten every last one too, if I hadn¡¯t swiped most of them off her plate after seeing her struggle. She brightened up, gave me a grateful look, and quickly finished her meal, politely thanking Molly.


    But compared to our enthusiastic appreciation, her quiet, distant ¡°thank you¡± didn¡¯t impress Mum. She seemed almost insulted, as if she¡¯d gone to all this trouble for someone unworthy of it.


    Mum hadn¡¯t realized that when Luna entered, looked around, and said, ¡°It¡¯s so warm in the Burrow,¡± with a soft smile, she wasn¡¯t talking about the fireplace after the cold outdoors. She meant the warmth of family. Luna wasn¡¯t mad; she just spoke in her own way. You had to listen to understand her, and that wasn¡¯t one of Mum¡¯s strengths.


    I could tell Mum wasn¡¯t happy that I¡¯d brought such an odd, mismatched girl into our home. But I knew she¡¯d still warm and feed Luna if I brought her a hundred times, even if she¡¯d purse her lips disapprovingly.


    The Lovegoods, as it turned out, lived just across the field from us, straight over the hill. Only now, it was too muddy to get there that way. The road was longer but less of a mess, so I thought I¡¯d take my bike. But Luna insisted on going through the field, saying she knew a path. And, like an idiot, I believed her.


    There was a path, but the whole way we were hopping from one tuft of grass to another, like bog sprites. Took me a minute to realize that with someone like Luna, things were never going to be simple or straightforward.


    The girl herself was hopping from mound to mound like a deer, pausing, turning back to look at me, chattering away non-stop while I tried to stay focused and not fall face-first into the muck, sweating and feeling clumsy as anything.


    The Lovegood house was something else. If the Burrow looked like a rustic wooden cottage, this place felt like something from the future. It was shaped like a slightly tilted cone, and the dark polished stones gave it a solid, monolithic look. For a moment, I thought it looked like the spire of a spaceship buried in the ground.


    Luna pushed open the heavy black front door, studded with iron spikes as thick as my thumb, and continued chatting about fairies as she ran up the stairs without looking back. I lingered awkwardly in the doorway, curious to see how other wizards lived but not wanting to step inside uninvited.


    ¡°Ron, where are you?¡± came her voice from upstairs. ¡°Did you get lost? I¡¯ll come get you.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯re you standing there?¡± she asked, bounding down and staring at me with her big eyes.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t invite me in,¡± I said with a grin.


    ¡°I opened the door, didn¡¯t I?¡± she replied, shrugging as if I was being slow.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only just become your friend, so I¡¯m not sure of the rules,¡± I said, smiling slightly.


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any rules with friends,¡± she said and tugged me up the stairs. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll introduce you to my dad.¡±


    As we hurried up the stairs, I glanced around the house. It was, well, strange. The staircase, wide and spiraling like in a tower or lighthouse, wound all the way to the top, leaving a vast open space in the middle that went down to the ground floor. There weren¡¯t any landings, just the odd door leading directly onto the steps. No windows either, yet light seemed to pour down from above as if the house didn¡¯t have a roof, though I could clearly see a ceiling.


    Luna led me into the third door, which opened into a huge, peculiar room. Its walls curved like a tower, and every bit of furniture along the walls and near the three large windows was slightly curved too.


    Once, when I was in Spain, I visited Casa Batll¨®. That experience totally changed my perspective. The strange, intense beauty of the place seemed like a trip into madness ¡ª or even beyond it. It opened your mind in ways that made you crave straight lines and gray tones, just to anchor yourself back to normality. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Gaud¨ª were related to the Lovegoods because this house looked so similar, even down to the mosaic and painted walls.


    Mr. Lovegood was as odd as the house. He greeted us barefoot and disheveled, looking like we¡¯d just dragged him out of bed. Not to mention he was wearing a full-length flannel nightgown with tiny blue flowers, and his wand was tucked behind his ear.


    There was no sign of a bed, but there was a big bright orange leather sofa and some sort of clicking contraption that the man of the house was fiddling with when we came in.


    ¡°Dad, Dad!¡± the girl bounded over to him, tugging at his sleeve, but he only snapped out of it after about the fifth call. Finally, he tore himself away from his machine and looked down at her with a slightly unfocused gaze. ¡°Dad, this is Ron. Ron, this is my dad.¡±


    ¡®Take away the pudding!¡¯ popped into my head for some reason, though I could see a flicker of awareness spark behind his eyes.


    ¡°Luna, we¡¯ve got a guest,¡± he said, running his hand through his tangled hair. ¡°Who are you, young man?¡±


    ¡°Ron Weasley, sir,¡± I answered, holding out my hand, but he just stared at it blankly, like I was expecting him to hand over a penny for charity.


    ¡°Time for tea,¡± he said, instead of answering, and listened intently. Oddly enough, at that moment the hall clock chimed.


    ¡°Yay, tea!¡± Luna cried, bouncing up and grabbing my hand to drag me back out, while her dad scratched his head thoughtfully with his wand, as though he¡¯d forgotten what he was about to do.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    We went back down to the first floor and into the kitchen, which was just as warped as the rest of the house ¨C even the ancient cooker and the cupboards on the wall had strange curves to them.


    Luna dashed forward and bustled about, putting a small, chubby kettle on the burner. The flame sparked on with a turn of the handle, rather than by wand, like we¡¯d do at home.


    But the table ¨C that¡¯s what threw me off. It looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland, massive, fit for fifteen people. It was a huge rectangular thing, crowded with cups, plates, bowls, and dishes of all sorts ¨C from sandwiches to tiny cakes, even a big sliced ham.


    Some of the cups still had tea in them, with steam rising as if they were freshly poured. Plates were scattered with half-eaten sandwiches and crumbs from biscuits, like people had only just left the table. I was surprised, thinking the Lovegoods lived like hermits, but it looked like they had crowds over for tea.


    While I stood there goggling, Luna took the kettle off the stove and called to me.


    ¡°Ron, have you picked a seat?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Anywhere¡¯s fine, let¡¯s sit here,¡± I replied, pointing to the nearest chair. ¡°Need any help?¡± She shook her head, came over, and poured me a cup of what looked like regular tea ¨C not some purple-root brew, thankfully.


    She poured herself some as well, into a little blue mug, and flopped down into a chair, carefully moving a large teddy bear over by two chairs. The table was populated by at least six stuffed animals, and they weren¡¯t your average toys ¨C these ones were magic, occasionally rubbing their foreheads with their paws and turning their heads. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a plush dog the size of me gave a big yawn from the chair next to mine, so I shifted further down the table.


    ¡°Help yourself,¡± she offered, grabbing a biscuit from the nearest dish.


    ¡°Er¡­ shouldn¡¯t we wait for the others?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°No one else is coming,¡± she replied, looking up at me. ¡°I¡¯ve only got one friend. And Dad¡¯s not going to be free for ages.¡±


    ¡°What about¡­?¡± I pointed to the stuffed toys.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Dad¡¯s idea,¡± she brightened up. ¡°So I don¡¯t forget to eat. He¡¯s always busy, and Millie comes over twice a week.¡±


    ¡°Millie?¡±


    ¡°The house-elf. She lives with Uncle Ollie but comes here to cook for us. And Dad put a charm on the table to keep everything fresh and warm.¡±


    ¡°So this table is just for the two of you?¡± I said, a bit surprised.


    ¡°For the three of us,¡± she grinned brightly. ¡°You¡¯ll come over now and have tea with me.¡±


    Honestly, I hadn¡¯t planned on coming back. I¡¯d meant to deliver Luna safely into her dad¡¯s care and forget all about this whole strange encounter. I wasn¡¯t a nanny, especially not for a little girl. But now I didn¡¯t know what to do. Luna¡¯s dad, unlike her, was clearly spending more in his head than in the real world.


    ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you my playroom,¡± she said, springing up after we finished our tea.


    ¡°And what about the dishes?¡± I asked, a bit lost.


    ¡°Millie¡¯s coming Monday to clean up,¡± Luna said breezily. ¡°She loves doing it. Come on.¡±


    We climbed all the way to the top of the tower and ended up in a round room. It had windows spaced out all around, as if it was meant to be an observatory.


    There wasn¡¯t much furniture in the huge space, and apart from a few stuffed toys, not many typical children¡¯s toys either. But there were loads of magical games, mosaics, and puzzles ¨C she was working on one huge puzzle at the moment.


    ¡°Dad says when I finish it, the dragon in the picture will come to life,¡± she told me, and I shivered a bit. That two-meter dragon¡¯s head was already moving slightly and blowing fire. You never know with magic ¨C it really might come to life. I just hoped she¡¯d put the last piece in under her dad¡¯s supervision. Just in case.


    Then she suggested we watch a meteor shower in the constellation Lyra. I thought it was a game and agreed. So I was properly surprised when two seats appeared and tilted us back comfortably, like I was reclining in a sports car seat. Then some kind of periscope descended into my hands from above.


    We watched the promised stars, and it was brilliant. This telescope was as clear as any high-tech model. I could even see animals that looked like mammoths. Mind you, I reckon it was enchanted to show magical illusions, so it¡¯d be more fun for kids to study the night sky.


    But the biggest surprise came when I was getting ready to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a cup for the road,¡± she declared. ¡°Let¡¯s go! The stairs are slow; follow me ¨C this way¡¯s faster,¡± she said, and she tapped the railing three times. It disappeared, and she, without hesitation, jumped straight down into the dark void.


    I hadn¡¯t expected that, so I didn¡¯t manage to grab her by the hem or even really feel scared. My legs wobbly, I crawled over to the edge, half-expecting to see a crumpled body in a pool of blood ¨C but there she was, still descending gently, slowly floating down to the first floor. The shock hit me later, when I was already on my way home, thinking back on this mad evening.


    ¡°Come on, Ron, this way!¡± she called out, landing lightly and looking up at me. I had no choice but to jump after her. After all, her dad¡¯s a wizard, even if he¡¯s a bit of a nutter. He¡¯d patch me up if anything went wrong.


    Back in the kitchen, we just moved over to the next set of chairs ¨C just like the Mad Hatter¡¯s tea party. Luna¡¯s dad didn¡¯t come down, so she was the one to see me off.


    ¡°Come back tomorrow, Ron. You have to come, I¡¯ll be waiting for you,¡± she said, standing there in the doorway with the wind blowing around her, watching me until I was out of sight.


    The walk home took over an hour. I wasn¡¯t about to risk going across the fields alone, especially since it was getting dark.


    Everyone was gathered at the Burrow by the time I got in, even Bill. He¡¯d finished Hogwarts with top marks this year, and the goblins had already offered him a job. He¡¯d been training with them at the bank for nearly five months.


    After dinner, Mum, as usual, was filling Dad in on the day¡¯s events and mentioned Luna as well. The conversation drifted towards the Lovegoods.


    Dad told us that Luna¡¯s mum had died nine months ago. She¡¯d been experimenting in her lab at home, and something went wrong. Luna had come downstairs to call her for tea just when her mum got distracted. Then ¨C boom. The house-elf saved Luna, but she passed away herself later. So now it¡¯s just the two of them.


    Since then, Xenophilius has been a bit off his rocker, burying himself in his inventions. Word is, he¡¯s working on something to do with Rowena Ravenclaw¡¯s diadem.


    Bill added a few details. He¡¯d gone to school with Ollivander¡¯s nephew, who turned out to be the closest relative the Lovegoods have. Garrick offered help after the tragedy, but Xenophilius refused, only agreeing to let the house-elf help out. Now Millie comes twice a week to clean up and set everything out on the table so they can come down and eat whenever they want. I felt a pang of heat in my chest, imagining that little girl sitting all alone at that massive, fully set table, moving along to a clean cup each time. It wasn¡¯t half as whimsical as Alice in Wonderland made it out to be.


    That evening, Ginny and I had a bit of an argument. She was downright jealous of Luna and demanded that I cut ties with her.


    ¡°You¡¯re my brother,¡± she said, stomping her foot. ¡°So stay with me and don¡¯t bring that strange girl to our house.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I didn¡¯t argue, ¡°but then you¡¯d better be a good sister, and when you get to Hogwarts, you¡¯ll sit by me every spare minute. We¡¯ll go for walks together and hang out in the library. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll need any friends either.¡±


    The little imp thought about it the whole evening before coming over to me and admitting she might¡¯ve overreacted.


    ¡°You heard, Luna doesn¡¯t have a mum,¡± I said, ¡°and her dad¡¯s a bit unwell. And you know that the princesses in stories, the ones princes and heroes fall in love with, they¡¯re always not just beautiful but kind, too.¡± Ginny blushed, a bit embarrassed, and nodded. Her little crush on Harry Potter wasn¡¯t exactly a secret anymore. Though to be honest, I think Harry was more of a dream than a real person to her, especially since I¡¯d bought her a bunch of proper Muggle fairy tales at the bookshop.


    Turns out, Ginny and Luna had tried being friends when they were both six. Luna even came to our house once. I must¡¯ve missed her since I was laid up in St. Mungo¡¯s at the time, and later I didn¡¯t leave my room for a few months. But for some reason, Luna¡¯s mum hadn¡¯t liked Ginny much back then, and Ginny picked up on it and fell out with her. So, my sister¡¯s still a bit sour about the whole thing. And now Mum didn¡¯t much like Luna either. Why are things always so complicated?


    The next day, I forgot all about my new friend until I was on my way home. I decided to let it go, already more than halfway back when I stopped dead, swore under my breath, and rushed back. I just pictured that sweet, daft girl standing out in the wind again or waiting in some cold puddle, convinced I¡¯d come because some magical, invisible creature told her I would. Luna had me firmly hooked, and as Antoine de Saint-Exup¨¦ry has said, ¡°we¡¯re responsible for those we tamed¡±.

 Chapter 12

    Only once I¡¯d stepped inside the Lovegoods'' house did I realize just how different an ancestral wizarding home is from any regular magical house built on a place of power, like the Burrow.


    I felt that difference deep down, with this magical essence inside me that I¡¯d only recently begun to sense and understand, thanks to studying from those old books.


    Everything in Luna¡¯s home practically pulsed with magic, all of it obeying her with barely a gesture, a word, or a touch. It was as if the house¡¯s magic was tied to her own, though I suspected it might actually be the magic of generations of her family, built up over time.


    Our house had its own magical atmosphere too, a background enchantment that let us do magic without draining our own power, and there were a few magical bits around the Burrow as well.


    Like the clock with nine hands, one for each of us, showing where we are. The kitchen clock with its to-do hand that divides Mum¡¯s daily work. A magical radio, the talking mirror in the bathroom, and the enchanted holiday tablecloth that never stained, never tore, and kept food warm ¨C Mum only brought it out on special occasions, along with a tea set that kept the tea hot no matter how long it sat.


    The older brothers and Dad had wristwatches, proper magical ones, not like regular watches but with planets and stars. As for me, I had my chess set and a talking alarm clock.


    And, of course, we had enchanted things scattered around the kitchen ¨C like a self-chopping knife, a sink that did the dishes once you piled them in, and pots that cooked the food on their own if you filled them up the night before. Not to mention the cold room that served as a magical fridge.


    The Lovegoods¡¯ place, though, was enchanted from top to bottom. The whole house seemed to have a mind of its own, adapting to the needs of its owners. It was much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside.


    I went round to see my friend nearly every day, and it felt like stepping into a different place each time.


    Now, as I approached, the thorns on the front door would withdraw. The eagle-head door knocker would give a friendly clack of its beak, even nudging my hand for a pat.


    The rooms, except for the kitchen and the playroom, swapped places constantly. You could go into the second door on the third floor and end up in the broom cupboard by the kitchen on the first. And the next time, you¡¯d never find that cupboard again, like it never existed in the first place. Sometimes, it felt like while we sat in one room, the house was constantly twisting and winding around us, spiraling in and out.


    The lights would turn on and off with a word, and the water would flow by command ¨C actually, it didn¡¯t even need a command, just a thought. All you had to do was tap the tap.


    You could leave a room and head down to the kitchen, only to find it took nearly an hour to get there, even though you¡¯d seen it from the top floor. You¡¯d keep going down the stairs, but they¡¯d just keep going. Then, a half-open door would appear, like an invitation to play along with the house. You¡¯d have to go back to where you started, shut the door, and try again ¨C or take the mystery door and brace yourself for a whole new adventure.


    I wondered if maybe this was a form of security to baffle any uninvited guests who somehow made it in.


    As I came to understand, Luna¡¯s house, like other enchanted homes, was charmed to be untraceable without an invitation. Even if you tried, you¡¯d never find it and would just keep wandering around the area. It explained why I¡¯d never seen a neighboring wizard¡¯s house, despite exploring the countryside.


    One spring day, as I waited for the door to open, I saw a snake slither onto the wall. The stonework instantly darkened, hardening to look like solid steel. The ivy, which had been gently swaying in the breeze, tightened around the intruder, and a spark shot down the wall, like a tiny lightning bolt. The snake fell, defeated, to the base of the house and disappeared into the earth as it closed up around it. It was a spine-tingling sight, especially when I thought that if I¡¯d meant harm to the house¡¯s owners, that might¡¯ve been my fate too. The house could turn into a proper fortress ¨C a solid, towering monolith with no windows and an impregnable door.


    But the house never bothered me; it just toyed with me, probably to keep things entertaining for Luna. And it even listened to me if my wish didn¡¯t go against the will of its owners.


    If I wanted to wash my hands, the front door would open into the very room I needed, no need to trek around. But Luna enjoyed the ¡®search,¡¯ so we usually took the long way, unless she was in a hurry.


    Once, she urgently wanted to show me a book, so we stepped out of her room and found ourselves, instead of on the staircase, right outside the library on the ground floor.


    Another time, we decided to grab a snack and started down the stairs, only for them to turn into a slide, and we whizzed straight down into the basement, where we wandered around for about an hour.


    Luna didn¡¯t seem the least bit worried, though; she took it all as a grand game. Meanwhile, I was trudging through the underground maze, honestly wondering if anyone would find us. The Lovegoods used to have a house-elf, whom they could¡¯ve called, but Mr. Lovegood often shut himself in his office for days. No guarantee he¡¯d find us, even after a week.


    ¡°Luna, weren¡¯t we on our way to the kitchen for tea?¡± I asked, casually. ¡°Aren¡¯t we in a bit of a hurry?¡±


    ¡°We could hurry,¡± she nodded, ¡°but that¡¯s just boring, Ron. The tea¡¯s not going anywhere; it¡¯s already there, waiting for us. And searching is always interesting. It can put you on the path and lead to a conclusion.¡±


    ¡°So what conclusion have you reached from our wandering through this dark, cold basement?¡± I asked, as we unexpectedly tumbled out of the pantry right into the kitchen.


    ¡°That after the darkness and cold, it¡¯s especially nice to find yourself in a warm, bright kitchen,¡± she replied thoughtfully, with complete seriousness. ¡°And now, I really do want tea. And it¡¯s always nicer to do something you actually want.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one who pulled me to the kitchen an hour ago because you fancied some tea?¡± I said, smiling at her reasoning, which was actually quite sensible.


    "Yes," she replied without the slightest hint of embarrassment, "but back then, it would have just been ordinary tea. Now, though, it¡¯ll be the best tea in the world because now I know I want it more than anything. And how else would I have realized that, or understood the difference?"


    "Fair enough," I laughed, pushing a plate of her favorite biscuits towards her. And I must say, the tea was indeed exceptional this time around. Perhaps because I was shivering, and it was piping hot.


    Every room in Luna''s house that I¡¯d been to was semi-circular, curved, and nearly all of them had two levels. The library, too, was two stories. The top floor, reserved for adults, had serious books and was sectioned off by a kind of transparent, shimmering barrier. Downstairs, there was a study area for Luna.


    Seeing all that knowledge stacked up like that left me absolutely gobsmacked. But I barely got to read any of it. Luna wanted a friend and a playmate, not a bookworm. Besides, you couldn¡¯t take books outside of the house. But even just by playing, I learned more about magic than I ever did back at home. It was strange, really.


    At the Burrow, Mum was always casting spells, but somehow, I always saw magic there as a bit of a trick, a sleight of hand. But at the Lovegoods'', even though they hardly did any spellcasting, I felt magic as something real ¡ª a force, a kind of energy that interacted with you. I¡¯d been learning to feel it in myself for almost a year, with the books Matthew gave me, and I was only just beginning to sense it inside me. But Luna, well, she¡¯d been born with that feeling and lived with it all her life. When I was with her, I felt more like a Muggle than ever. I could sense the magic within me, but I wasn¡¯t quite ready to trust it yet; I was still sizing it up. But Luna trusted it completely, as though it were a natural part of her. And so, wonders and marvels were just everyday occurrences for her. There was nothing you could do to startle or scare her.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    For example, when we finally completed a puzzle of a dragon, it popped up in 3D, blew a blast of fire, roared, and swooped around the room, then exploded into a shower of sparks like a firework and disappeared. I was flabbergasted by the spectacle, maybe even a bit spooked ¡ª it was so lifelike, both the beast and the flames. But Luna took it all in stride, squealing with delight and chasing after the dragon, trying to grab its tail.


    Afterwards, the picture lost its magic, becoming just an ordinary moving image, and the pieces detached from each other.


    On the box we put the puzzle away in, it said it was some sort of ¡°educational¡± toy for kids. While assembling it, you¡¯d put a bit of your magic into each piece, which then brought the dragon to life upon completion. So, I hadn¡¯t actually used a wand, but I could see and feel the result of my magic. All Luna¡¯s toys were like that ¡ª designed to let you feel your own magic, see it, and learn to control it. I imagine they were either incredibly expensive or handed down through generations, since we didn¡¯t have anything like them back at the Burrow.


    Most of the time, if we weren¡¯t playing upstairs, we¡¯d be in the library. There were armchairs, a big table, chairs, and shelves filled with children¡¯s books. Children¡¯s books, but on all sorts of subjects ¡ª potions, charms, even Occlumency, all written in a way a kid could understand. I read everything I could reach. And, to my surprise, I realized that I¡¯d already managed to complete the first level of mind protection without knowing it.


    I remember Snape going on and on at Potter in the book: "Clear your mind. Did you clear your mind before bed last night?"


    Anyway, the books Matthew gave me were the first step in mental defense ¡ª feeling magic and learning concentration through clearing your mind.


    After concentrating on breathing, the second step is a sort of out-of-body experience. It¡¯s as if you¡¯re standing outside yourself, with everything you want to hide, while someone else is rummaging around in your head but can¡¯t find anything. This technique is also helpful if, say, someone¡¯s torturing you with the Cruciatus Curse. You wouldn¡¯t feel it, and you¡¯d retain all your memories since your body and mind are temporarily separated. It¡¯s like watching from the outside. This way, you don¡¯t lose your senses from pain or fall into shock.


    You can learn this slowly, like I¡¯m doing, or the hard way, where someone forces their way into your mind, and you have an involuntary out-of-body experience. When your consciousness snaps back a second later, it kicks the intruder out with a mental punch. Guess Potter was on a time crunch and had to be taught that way. Wouldn¡¯t envy him; it sounds pretty painful.


    At first, you slip out of your body briefly and involuntarily, but with practice, you can do it whenever you want and for longer. No more of those imaginary walls I used to think of as mental defenses.


    This is why, in the wizarding world, memories aren¡¯t considered solid proof to clear someone¡¯s name ¡ª they can be faked. That¡¯s probably why Black didn¡¯t bother trying for a pardon when he escaped.


    Also, as it turns out, a Legilimens doesn¡¯t read thoughts but rather thought-images. So if you¡¯re only thinking about wanting to kill Voldemort, they won¡¯t see that unless you visualize exactly how you¡¯d do it.


    We also got into artifact-making for kids.


    Now, that was fascinating. We started simple.


    First, Luna spun a few threads from fine wool. The result wasn¡¯t perfect, but not bad. Then we split the yarn into two parts and dyed it with blood. Just a drop on the end of the thread, and as it wound into a ball, the whole thing turned red. The book said magical artifacts don¡¯t use other dyes ¡ª they wouldn¡¯t hold magic.


    Then Luna wrapped some of her thread around my wrist, tied a special knot, and added a couple of beads. She said it was a protective charm, and now it would protect me, and she¡¯d know if I was in danger ¡ª the bead would darken and turn black if I was in trouble.


    With her help, I made one for her too. Looking at my first piece of magical handiwork was a thrill. It had a steady, calm energy that was reassuring.


    Really, being friends with Luna has made me more open and less afraid of the unknown. When you know you¡¯ll always end up where you need to be, that jumping down a gap from the fourth floor won¡¯t kill you but will let you glide softly, and that the dragon that looks almost real is just an illusion ¡ª well, you stop worrying so much.


    Luna was quietly teaching me to be a real wizard, someone who felt magic, not just a Muggle with a wand. And I have to say, it felt bloody fantastic to think of myself as an actual wizard.


    Then, we started studying runes together. Admittedly, rune studies were rather complex, but the children¡¯s book offered simple rune chains for little crafts¡ªanimating stuffed toys, making a butterfly take flight, creating an everlasting torch, or crafting a fishing rod. I was more drawn to practical things for older students¡ªlightening the weight of a bag, doubling its capacity, or linking two notebooks with something akin to Protean Charms.


    As it turned out, nearly every spell in the wizarding world had a rune-based counterpart. But for wizards, using spells was quicker and easier. Runes were meticulous work, often used by weaker wizards and first-generation Squibs in the magical world. It let them settle in comfortably and enjoy the perks of magic without casting spells. Ritualists and enchanters used them too, for crafting serious items like enchanted tents.


    What I especially liked about the book was that it didn¡¯t go off on tangents about the runes themselves, just practical examples. Want to enchant a cloak to ward off the cold? Stitch runes into the lining or onto a tag and sew it onto the item. Slip rune-embroidered insoles into your shoes to keep your feet warm and blister-free. Burn runes inside the leather of a school satchel¡ªnothing would ever get lost, and only you could retrieve things.


    Luna, by the way, had a special set for burning runes. Each rune was like a stamp on a handle, heated on a special stand. Very handy, and most importantly¡ªprecise and error-free. Later, I bought a similar set for myself made of wood¡ªit was three times cheaper and used special ink instead of heating. Just add a drop of your own blood, as Luna suggested.


    By the time school started, I already had endless notebooks for notes, a feather sharpener, a non-spill inkpot, and a notebook for communicating with Luna. Plus a few odds and ends, like a torch and a skeleton key for any lock.


    <hr>


    Interestingly, the Quibbler didn¡¯t exist yet. Xenophilius was still working on some sort of clever contraption and was already drafting articles for the first issue. Now Luna could chat with him normally enough. He¡¯d tell her about various mythical creatures that popped up in his wild imagination as if they were real. He could go on about them for hours. But I was glad that he at least occasionally surfaced from his world to spend time with Luna, even if it was in his peculiar way.


    Leaving her alone with such a parent felt... odd. But I was just a kid myself and couldn¡¯t do much about it. And who was I to meddle in someone else¡¯s family? I consoled myself with the fact that, according to the books, she¡¯d turn out relatively fine. Besides, now she had me, and she wasn¡¯t as peculiar as in the canon, even if she did talk in that dreamy way. But I understood her perfectly, and I quite liked it.


    Luna was my personal miracle. She stood out from other girls. She had no duplicity or meanness in her. She was a whole soul, reliable as a rock and calm as a sea on a still day. I never regretted meeting her for a second.


    Mr. Lovegood treated me with the same disinterest as he would a piece of furniture, as if I¡¯d always been in their home. We didn¡¯t see each other often. Mostly we¡¯d bump into each other in the hallway, and every time he¡¯d ask my name, and not once did I see him in proper clothes. It seemed he practically lived in his study.


    I reckon the man wasn¡¯t quite all there¡ªsome borderline state of mind, like what you¡¯d see with drunks.


    I remember Uncle Pasha, our building¡¯s caretaker, who once had a ¡°white squirrel¡± episode and kept insisting there was a demon living in the corner of his little hut. He could describe every hair in detail, the faces it pulled, the way it reached out and promised to take him away. He¡¯d get furious when others pretended not to see it, thinking they were mocking him. But in other ways, he was quite rational.


    Another neighbor, Auntie Ira, who was into some esoteric nonsense, claimed that Uncle Pasha had his mind slip into parallel worlds, even if she couldn¡¯t see the entity herself. I reckon Luna¡¯s dad must have lived in some world of his own as well.


    <hr>


    For Luna¡¯s birthday, I gave her a little fluffy creature so she wouldn¡¯t feel lonely when I left. She named him Snowball¡ªhe was pure white. I told her the twins could change his color, but she refused. She said Snowball couldn¡¯t speak, so he wouldn¡¯t be able to tell her if he didn¡¯t like it. That¡¯s Luna through and through.


    Even though I felt like a proper wizard by then, I was still sad to leave the workshop. By summer, they were already trusting me with serious tasks, and I did enjoy the work.


    Matt teased me about Luna in good humor, saying I¡¯d found myself a girlfriend. One spring day, she surprised me by turning up at the workshop. I went cold at the thought of her running into trouble on her way there. A little witch, alone in the Muggle world.


    Of course, I gave her a good talking to, and she nodded, but she kept coming back every day. Her house was only a fifteen-minute walk across the field. Then I¡¯d give her a lift home on my bike. Sometimes we''d stop at a cafe for ice cream.


    Time flew that year, racing as if trying to make up for all the years I¡¯d wasted. It still felt unreal that I¡¯d be going to Hogwarts this year, until one morning when a large tawny owl delivered my letter.

 Chapter 13

    The letter came in late April, but we didn¡¯t go shopping straight away. We waited until the boys got back from Hogwarts, so Molly could take stock of what we already had and work out what still needed buying. I nearly ground my teeth to bits with frustration¡ªso much time lost for practicing spells. But Dad only got paid at the end of the month, and he''d already spent most of it on Bill, so...


    Percy got made a prefect this year. No telling who was prouder¡ªPercy himself or Mum, with her gifted kids. Bill had been a school prefect, Charlie was the Quidditch captain, and now Percy was catching up to them both. The twins, naturally, wouldn¡¯t let him live it down, but I was happy for him¡ªhe¡¯d earned it. Same with the owl Arthur got him to celebrate. Ten Galleons for a scruffy gray ball of feathers¡ªthe world''s gone mad! Percy called his new friend Hermes.


    I, of course, inherited his old rat.


    When I first ended up here, books and stories were the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was figuring out how to fit in and stay sane. Later on, I thought about everything, but I never had the guts to act on any of it and just let things go their way.


    I suppose I could¡¯ve killed the rat straight off, though it¡¯s hardly my style to just off someone who¡¯s done me no harm. Besides, so much hangs on it. Cutting that thread could unravel things in ways I couldn¡¯t predict. Everything leads to something else¡ªone thing affects the next and then the next.


    Sirius wouldn¡¯t see the rat in the paper and wouldn¡¯t break out of Azkaban. Wormtail wouldn¡¯t crack under the guilt, and Potter wouldn¡¯t escape capture. I¡¯m just a tiny, insignificant cog here; I don¡¯t even have a place in the story to start changing it. So, I figured I¡¯d wait until Sirius broke out, then deal with the rat. Maybe get some advice. And so, now that nasty rodent¡¯s coming with me to Hogwarts.


    We got to Diagon Alley through Tom¡¯s pub using the Floo Network. Arthur came along with me; the others stayed home, which I was well pleased about.


    The Alley itself looked a bit run-down, like some backwater medieval village, but the magic made up for it. There was loads of it, in every object, even in the air and the cobblestones. I silently thanked Matt for those books that taught me how to sense it. Otherwise, it would¡¯ve just been a dusty old street filled with oddities. Can''t wait to see what Hogwarts feels like.


    I only got a glimpse of the goblins. Well, only one, really¡ªthe one guarding Gringotts¡¯ door. A right nasty-looking alien he was, like he was missing a blaster or some ray gun. Definitely not human or even humanoid¡ªmore like some other form of life entirely. I was well glad we didn¡¯t need to go into the bank.


    They only got me the bare essentials for school. It¡¯s times like these you feel the pinch of being skint. Quills, parchment, potion ingredients, a wand, some robes, and that¡¯s about it. At least I managed to save my nine Galleons. Though, to be fair, I did spend three on a runes kit when Dad wasn¡¯t looking. But I¡¯ve still got six, just in case. Mind you, I was sorely tempted by this quill that writes essays on its own if you dictate them¡ªit cost five and a half Galleons. Never been keen on all that writing nonsense.


    Didn¡¯t need any new books¡ªthey all came from the twins, along with a roll of magic tape, which I used for about a week just getting the books into decent shape.


    The telescope¡¯s a family one, shared by everyone. The cauldron, school bag, and scales were Charlie¡¯s, as he¡¯d finished school this year.


    Percy and I got all Bill¡¯s old clothes. Mum adjusted them a bit to fit. Bill¡¯s training with the goblins ended, and he¡¯s off to Africa for two years to work at the bank branch there. Mum and Dad splashed out on a whole new wardrobe for him¡ªeven a new trunk, what with the new place and all.


    So they bought me a few missing bits and bobs at a small shop with affordable stuff. Madam Malkin¡¯s was only for my set of robes.


    My wand chose me¡ªit¡¯s willow with a unicorn hair core. I tell you, it¡¯s something else, that first time you grip the handle. It¡¯s like your power and the magic in the wand merge and become a part of you, so you can impose your will and desires on the world. Absolutely bonkers, you feel like some almighty god in that moment.


    I went round the Muggle shops on my own and picked up some small things¡ªunderwear, socks, T-shirts, jumpers, and proper shirts without ruffles and cufflinks. I got extras so I wouldn¡¯t mind throwing them away later. Mum looked a bit put out and disapproving but held her tongue. She doesn¡¯t take kindly to anything Muggle.


    I also bought some sweets and a bunch of Snickers for the journey, a regular alarm clock, and a two-liter thermos. They had something similar in the magical shops, but I didn¡¯t fancy parting with four Galleons for it.


    I often bought sweets for home. Told them I liked spending my own money¡ªgot to do something with all the Muggle coins I¡¯ve saved up over time.


    Dad looked over the wrappers with curiosity and even started a collection of them, but he only tried a sweet once. Ginny and I were the only ones eating them, and only after a massive argument with Mum.


    Molly thought it was reckless to eat ¡®who knows what¡¯¡ªwho knew what Muggles put in it, and how it might affect a wizard? She had a real go at Arthur for ¡®infecting the child with his strange Muggle fascination.¡¯ But eventually, she let it go. For a bit, anyway.


    When I came back from work with my hair cut short, she had another good moan. She only stopped because I was off to Hogwarts in a week.


    All the lads in our family wore their hair down to their shoulders with a parting¡ªseemed to be the standard in the magical world. But my red locks were annoying as hell, and I thought a stylish crew cut suited me much better. So, she had to put up with it. Later, she even cut Percy¡¯s hair to match¡ªhe talked her into it.


    Before Hogwarts, I practiced all the spells I¡¯d learned. The feeling was fantastic. Once you get a taste for it, you want to keep casting, even if it¡¯s just a simple Lumos. I reckon a Muggle addict feels the same way about their fix, or maybe I¡¯m just not used to it yet. Dad shut down my magic spree quickly, though¡ªhe took my wand and only gave it back on the day I left.


    I think I¡¯ve finally worked out why all wizards are a bit mad. When you see something transform before your eyes just because you wanted it to ¨C a matchstick turning into a needle, for example ¨C it¡¯s hard to stay grounded. Then there¡¯s a dog running about the room, a real, breathing dog, when a second ago it was just an old table... Well, that sort of thing throws every natural law out the window. You can¡¯t keep your head straight when there¡¯s nothing familiar to anchor onto. Honestly, it broadens your mind in a way that makes anything seem possible.


    Yesterday, Charlie left for a dragon sanctuary in Romania. They invited him to work as a dragon tamer. Molly cried all day. First one son left, now the second had flown the nest too.


    I asked him why he didn¡¯t want to go pro in Quidditch. The national coach himself had come to Hogwarts, trying to recruit him to the England team. Eight hundred, maybe a thousand Galleons in salary, a top-tier broom, and he wouldn¡¯t even have to leave the country.


    ¡°That sort of thing isn¡¯t serious, Ron,¡± he answered calmly, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. ¡°I love flying, but that¡¯s not a career. A Seeker¡¯s got a career lifespan of maybe till thirty ¨C if you don¡¯t get hurt first. Constant travel, press, fans, gossip. All show and no substance. And then the reporters would hound Mum and Dad, never leave them in peace. I don¡¯t need that, nor the fame.¡±


    ¡°So, what do dragon tamers actually do?¡± I asked, a bit surprised by how much thought he¡¯d put into it.


    ¡°My specialty will be as a Dragon Handler, Ron,¡± he smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll be part of a team of wizards enchanting dragon habitats ¨C it¡¯s a sanctuary, after all, they live freely there. We¡¯ll transport them, capture them, make sure they don¡¯t get sick, regulate the population. Even hunt a few. And I¡¯ll have to fly a lot, so I¡¯m bringing my broom. Plus, I love the outdoors, working in nature. As for sport¡­ it¡¯s just a bit of fun, really. In this field, I can use all my skills, not just the flying.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The next day, he was gone. And I marveled at how different he and Bill are. One wanted a bit of the high life, escaping somewhere he wouldn¡¯t be embarrassed by his oddball parents. The other thought of them, how reporters would dig up the family¡¯s private details and make life difficult for everyone.


    Yesterday, I met Dumbledore. Well, sort of ¨C I just said hello when he walked by the sitting room, and Mum introduced me: ¡°My youngest, Ronnie, off to school this year.¡±


    What to say¡­ the magic coming off theold bloke was powerful and steady, like he¡¯s got this quiet confidence in himself. His gaze was sharp, as though he could see right through you, down to your very insides, like an X-ray. But he didn¡¯t seem the sort to go looking for trouble; though best not to cross him ¨C he could crush anyone like a fly. Still, as long as he¡¯s got that friendly smile on, it¡¯s all good. A wizard of immense power, for sure. And my parents respect him immensely.


    Of course, he looked completely out of place in the Burrow, like a man at a farm wedding in his best concert suit. He reminded me of Stalin, with that kindly squint and a penetrating gaze. Definitely a politician, probably a dictator. Best to keep my distance, I reckon.


    I wasn¡¯t worried about him seeing through me. I¡¯m not just a Muggle anymore ¨C I¡¯m a proper wizard now, so I acted calm and collected; nothing to be afraid of. And honestly, he didn¡¯t seem to give me much thought anyway, just a quick glance and that was it.


    Turns out Hagrid forgot to tell Potter how to get onto the platform, and Dumbledore didn¡¯t want to send another wizard over to sort it out. The gamekeeper¡¯s already caused enough of a ruckus that Potter¡¯s relatives would likely have a fit if another wizard popped up at their place. And the lad still has to go back to them next year.


    And sending a letter by owl wasn¡¯t an option either ¨C who knows how they feel about magical birds now? There was a bit of an incident. Potter got the letter but didn¡¯t open it, so they just sent him more and more.


    Naturally, Mum took to the idea of helping out an orphan, so she agreed. There was no need to stick around, just show up fifteen minutes before the train leaves and check that he¡¯s not lost on the Muggle side of the barrier ¨C maybe he¡¯ll figure out the entrance on his own. That¡¯s it.


    I said goodbye to Matt and Gil yesterday. Honestly, I was sorry to leave work and the lads, but Hogwarts was waiting for me, and I¡¯d been dreaming of going there. If Luna¡¯s house was that magical, then a school of magic must be completely mind-blowing.


    I said goodbye to Luna too. It was a long, sad farewell.


    She smiled softly, dreamily, and kept saying that she¡¯d be all right, that I shouldn¡¯t worry about her. Whether she was trying to convince herself or me, I wasn¡¯t sure. We agreed to write every day, and I promised to come visit on holidays. It was the old Ron who didn¡¯t want to go back to the Burrow, but I had someone to return to now.


    The day before, knowing Molly would throw herself into a massive fuss, I packed myself a bag of sandwiches. Then, in the morning, while she made breakfast, I filled my thermos with sweet tea so I wouldn¡¯t need to bother her.


    After breakfast, I helped my parents by suggesting which forms to transfigure their robes into so they wouldn¡¯t stand out among Muggles. Dad was the most thrilled, of course.


    The twins and Percy went through the Floo with the luggage directly to the platform, while the four of us took a taxi to the station.


    Personally, I think it¡¯s daft. It would have been faster and simpler for everyone to arrive on the platform together by Floo, then for Mum to pop out on the Muggle side. But Arthur, excited for the adventure, wouldn¡¯t hear of it. And I didn¡¯t insist ¨C let the man have his fun, as long as we didn¡¯t miss the train.


    Molly was tense and clearly nervous ¨C this whole trip was not to her liking. In the Muggle world, she felt vulnerable. And this strange, terrifying car...


    Arthur, though, was as pleased as punch, like a kid. As soon as we arrived, while I paid the fare with crumpled notes he¡¯d given me, he rushed off to say goodbye to the boys ¨C eager to get to work, he Apparated right off the platform without waiting.


    ¡°These Muggles increase every year, don¡¯t they?¡± Molly grumbled as she fought her way through the crowd. ¡°Just look at them, a whole mob. And why is everyone in such a rush this early? How are we to find the poor boy in all this?¡±


    I caught sight of the twins on the platform, then Percy a moment later. Deciding not to get mixed up with the crowd, I went to look for the carriage where they should have put my things. They wouldn¡¯t have been too careful, and they might have knocked over my thermos. Besides, I reckoned they¡¯d find one lost lad without me.


    So I got myself excused, and with a bit of hesitation, closed my eyes and stepped right into the brick wall.


    The feeling was odd, but not all that different¡ªsort of like walking through a warm, invisible barrier like the ones in supermarket entrances. And on the other side stood a real-life red steam engine.


    Dad reckoned that, throughout history, wizards have only borrowed two things from Muggles: this steam train and the Knight Bus. Muggle iron doesn''t break down from magic, same with other metals. But all the other parts have been swapped out for magical equivalents. Now the train and bus both run on pure magic and are enchanted to the hilt, so no one''s hurtling about or falling out. The sweets trolley lady appears and vanishes in a special portal near the front of the train, too.


    I found my trunk in the second-to-last carriage, checked my thermos, and went back to the family, who were waiting on the other side of the platform. Stood there and listened as Mum gave her usual last-minute advice. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the twins helping some kid drag his trunk onto the train¡ªit kept slipping and walloping him on the legs. Judging by the snowy owl, that scrappy little kid was Harry Potter.


    While Mum fussed over the other brothers and they all teased Percy and tried to cheer up Ginny, I had a good look at the other families. Wizards really are a bunch of odd ducks when it comes to clothes. Half of them looked like they¡¯d been plucked straight out of the nineteenth century¡ªfrock coats, floor-length dresses, bonnets, and bowler hats. Honestly, you feel like you¡¯re in some period drama.


    Finally, the train gave its second whistle, and I gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and hugged Mum, then went to find my compartment. When I slid the door open, guess who was there: Potter. Cheers, you cheeky gits, twins.


    ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s my stuff,¡± I said, nodding at my trunk as I sat down across from him.


    ¡°That''s fine,¡± he mumbled shyly. ¡°It''s nicer with company.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even had a chance to reply to that odd statement when the twins squeezed through the door.


    ¡°Ron, we¡¯re in the next carriage over,¡± one of them reported. ¡°Lee¡¯s got a massive tarantula with him, and we¡¯re off to see it. You coming? Harry, want to join us?¡±


    We both shook our heads.


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re all right,¡± I answered for both of us. ¡°No need to see that, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± said the other one, completely unfazed¡ªthey probably expected as much. ¡°See you in the Great Hall for the feast!¡±


    ¡°Those are my brothers,¡± I explained as they left.


    ¡°They helped me with my trunk. Seem like good sorts,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°It must be great, having two older brothers.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve got five,¡± I grinned. ¡°Two have already finished Hogwarts. One works for the goblins as a curse breaker, and the other¡¯s a dragon tamer. Pretty cool, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, definitely,¡± he nodded. ¡°I¡¯m Harry Potter, by the way. And you?¡±


    ¡°Ron Weasley,¡± I said. ¡°Just don¡¯t take anything from the twins, yeah? They¡¯re jokers, always pulling pranks. Give you a sweet, and next thing you know, you¡¯re covered in feathers or sparkling purple.¡±


    ¡°Forever?¡± Harry looked alarmed.


    ¡°Nah, just for ten minutes, maybe half an hour tops. Wizards can do all sorts, Harry, so best keep on your toes,¡± I replied.


    We had a bit of lunch then. I shared some sandwiches and juice Mum had packed. The Dursleys had only given him two measly slices of toast with jam for breakfast, and he was too nervous to eat even that. No dinner last night either, and they hadn¡¯t packed him anything for the trip.


    Harry told me about his relatives, and I told him about my family. I explained that we¡¯re close, but being a big family, we¡¯re not exactly loaded. Nothing to hide there. We talked about Quidditch and the Hogwarts houses. Seemed like he¡¯d only skimmed Hogwarts, A History without really reading it. We cracked open one of the textbooks and tried out a charm on a cup, and he even managed to fix his glasses. He looked dead pleased¡ªhis eyes were practically glowing with excitement, like a cat with a brand-new toy.


    Honestly, he was pretty interesting and fun to talk to. He reminded me of myself a few years back, all mixed up between believing and doubting, both curious and a bit scared of magic, struggling with the unknown. By the time three hours had passed, we¡¯d become decent friends.


    Once Harry settled down and stopped looking so nervous, he started giving off this friendly vibe, this warmth that reminded me of Luna. I don¡¯t know how someone that open and decent could grow up in a cupboard under the stairs. I didn¡¯t plan on becoming best mates with him, but why not get to know him? Doesn¡¯t cost me anything.


    Around one, the trolley lady popped by with sweets. Harry bought a whole pile of wizarding sweets and kept insisting I try some¡ªhe really wanted to share. Looked a bit let down when I turned him down, straight out saying I¡¯m not that into magical sweets. I pulled out a few Snickers bars instead and tried some pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, just to be polite. The hot tea hit the spot, too. Right in the middle of our conversation, though, there was a knock on the door.

 Chapter 14

    There was a timid knock at the door, and in shuffled a chubby kid looking utterly lost. He introduced himself as Neville. Seemed he was looking for his toad.


    We told him we hadn¡¯t seen it and suggested he go to the back of the train and find Percy¡ªhe was a prefect, so let him deal with it. Neville nodded and scurried off, and we got back to chatting, telling each other about our wand cores and the mad stuff Ollivander had said. We were flipping through our textbooks, about to try another spell, when plans changed.


    The door flew open again, and the same chubby kid was back, this time with a determined-looking girl with a wild head of hair. Her front teeth were a tad big, giving her a sort of innocent look that didn¡¯t quite match her rather bossy demeanor.


    ¡°Have you seen Neville¡¯s toad?¡± she demanded in a no-nonsense tone. ¡°He¡¯s lost it, and I¡¯m helping him look.¡±


    ¡°Neville, you mean you didn¡¯t make it to the prefects?¡± I asked instead of answering, and the poor kid blushed and mumbled something barely audible. But the girl interrupted him with her loud, commanding voice.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re doing magic, are you? Let¡¯s see it, then,¡± she said, eyeing our wands and open book on the table. She practically shoved Neville into the compartment, then sat down beside me and plopped him opposite us.


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried a few spells myself, and they¡¯ve all worked,¡± she began, all high and mighty, looking at us with a bit of a smirk. ¡°And I¡¯ve already read all the textbooks, cover to cover. I do hope that¡¯s enough to be top of the class.¡±


    ¡°So, love, you¡¯re wandering round the train to help Neville look for his toad, or are you just here to advertise yourself?¡± I asked, taking advantage of the first gap in her monologue.


    ¡°Oh, and you¡¯re rude, I see,¡± she snapped, pursing her lips and giving me a sharp look. ¡°And I¡¯m not your ¡®love¡¯!¡±


    ¡°Well, you haven¡¯t introduced yourself,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°Hermione Granger,¡± she said crisply, staring at us expectantly.


    ¡°Ron Weasley,¡± I replied, doing a little mock bow and grinning cheekily.


    ¡°Harry Potter,¡± mumbled Harry, who clearly wasn¡¯t used to all this attention and intense conversation.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Harry Potter?¡± she asked, examining him with renewed interest. ¡°I know all about you, of course. I bought some extra books beyond the required reading, and your name¡¯s mentioned in Modern Magical History, The Rise an¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oi, slow down there, love,¡± I interrupted when I noticed Harry looking a bit overwhelmed. ¡°Lot of ¡®me, me, me¡¯ going on here. You¡¯re not the only one who¡¯s ever picked up a book, you know.¡±


    ¡°For the last time, I¡¯m not ¡®love!¡¯¡± she huffed, eyebrows furrowing angrily.


    ¡°And for the record, I¡¯m the rude one, right?¡± I said, grinning even wider. Winding her up was kind of fun. She was all right, really¡ªjust a bit of a know-it-all.


    ¡°Right, well then,¡± she said, standing up in a huff. ¡°Come on, Neville, we don¡¯t need to waste time with these hooligans.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be back, love, trust me,¡± I called after her teasingly. ¡°Good girls always come running back to the bad lads.¡±


    She gave Neville a firm push, glanced back, gave a loud scoff, turned up her nose, and slammed the door behind her. Harry and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.


    ¡°Serious sort, isn¡¯t she?¡± said Harry, smiling. ¡°Reminds me of our headmistress, Mrs. Smith. I hope we¡¯re in different houses.¡±


    We chatted a bit more about our new acquaintance, then got back to practicing spells. Afterward, we just ate sweets and chatted about nothing in particular.


    All was well until, mid-conversation, the compartment door swung open, and there stood the so-called ¡°prince charming¡± and his lackeys.


    In reality, it was just some pale, posh kid with a snooty look on his face, flanked by two bulky boys who didn¡¯t look overburdened by intellect.


    He surveyed our compartment like he expected it to contain something special, then focused his attention on Harry.


    ¡°I heard Harry Potter¡¯s in this compartment,¡± he drawled, demanding, as if we owed him something. ¡°Is that true?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Harry Potter,¡± Harry replied calmly. Surprisingly, he didn¡¯t seem fazed¡ªprobably found Malfoy less intimidating than Granger.


    ¡°This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle,¡± the pale-faced kid introduced his mates carelessly, noticing Harry eyeing them. ¡°And I¡¯m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Harry,¡± he added politely. ¡°And this is¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± the blond kid interrupted grandly, waving a hand. ¡°Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes. You must be a Weasley,¡± he sneered, with a smug look. ¡°From a family with more kids than they can afford.¡±


    Honestly, I was a bit gobsmacked. Didn¡¯t expect him to have a go at me first for no reason¡ªI hadn¡¯t laughed at his name or anything. Stuck-up pure-blood prat.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re skint too,¡± I shot back with a smirk. ¡°Only enough money for one kid? Parents couldn¡¯t handle any more?¡±


    ¡°How dare you?¡± Malfoy hissed, going red with anger, his fists clenching. Funny enough, he went red just as badly as I do.


    ¡°Well, you started it,¡± I replied coolly. ¡°Waltzing in here like ¡®Captain Obvious.¡¯ Is that what pure-blood snobs do? Show up just to state what¡¯s self-evident? Go on, mate, tell me something new. Say, that I¡¯ve got a hole in my sock or a broom from the seventies. But if you¡¯re going to make a face over my big family¡­then you¡¯re an idiot, mate. I¡¯ve got five brothers, three of them at Hogwarts. And you¡¯re just one. Think those two blokes behind you can take on four of us?¡±


    ¡°A blood traitor, threatening the heir of an ancient and noble family?¡± Malfoy squinted dangerously.


    ¡°Oi, I¡¯m only warning you for now,¡± I replied, cool as you like. ¡°So you can save your wit for me if you¡¯ve got something worth saying. And leave my family out of it if you don¡¯t want my rough brothers to give you a proper walloping. And, don¡¯t act like you¡¯re so worried about me, eh, Draco?¡± I smirked. ¡°You¡¯ve got no sister, so far as we know, and doesn¡¯t look like you¡¯ll be getting one, so your posh blood won¡¯t be muddied up marrying me. And why do you care about my family¡¯s status, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Potter, I¡¯m warning you,¡± Malfoy sneered, ignoring me, ¡°if you keep the company of riffraff like that oaf of a gamekeeper or this penniless wretch¡±¡ªhe nodded in my direction¡ª¡°you¡¯ll end up just like your parents. And I suggest you take my offer before it¡¯s too late.¡± He extended his hand with a pompous flourish.


    ¡®What a prat,¡¯ I thought. ¡®Does he actually think anyone¡¯s going to want to be friends after all that?¡¯ But then again, he¡¯s only eleven; bit slow on the uptake and not exactly subtle. Just prod him a bit, and he¡¯d blow.


    ¡°Get lost, Malfoy,¡± Harry spat, jumping up, properly angry now. ¡°I can manage without you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think so,¡± Malfoy sniffed, glancing over at his pals. ¡°Not that I intended to stay in your miserable company, but I think I¡¯ll linger a bit. Don¡¯t you agree, Crabbe, Goyle?¡±


    Crabbe and Goyle nodded in unison, though neither had said a word since they arrived. Might as well be mute, the pair of them.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Look at this¡ªloads of sweets lying about! Help yourselves, boys,¡± Malfoy said, reaching for a chocolate frog. But Harry lunged at him.


    Honestly, I didn¡¯t think he had it in him. They went at it¡ªHarry trying to pin Malfoy down and grab him by the hair, while Malfoy shoved at him, going for his eyes.


    Luckily, the two dolts didn¡¯t catch on straightaway. I managed to take Goyle down with a quick jab to his solar plexus. Crabbe took a bit more work, but in the cramped compartment, he had no room to swing properly. He did end up accidentally elbowing Malfoy in the face as he tried to hit me, so that sorted that.


    In the end, after a solid ten minutes, they finally grabbed their groggy leader and shuffled out of the compartment, groaning.


    ¡°Blimey¡­ d¡¯you reckon a couple of chocolate frogs were worth all that?¡± I asked Harry, eyeing his broken glasses and the cut on his cheek.


    ¡°Doubt it,¡± Harry said, shaking his head. ¡°But I just couldn¡¯t stand that pompous git anymore. He was already pestering me in the shop, and when he went on about my parents¡­ I just lost it.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. You fix your glasses, and I¡¯ll grab some healing balm,¡± I said, rooting through my trunk. ¡°With so many of us at home, Mum brews this stuff by the cauldron,¡± I explained, feeling around the bottom of my trunk for the first aid kit. Harry crawled under the table to retrieve our wands, scattered in the scuffle.


    ¡°Thank goodness, not broken,¡± he said with relief. ¡°Yours is fine too, Ron.¡±


    Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and the door swung open without a knock. Hermione stood there, taking in Harry¡¯s bruised face and my rumpled look with a disdainful sniff.


    ¡°I told you, love, you¡¯d be back,¡± I said with a wink.


    ¡°What exactly is going on here?¡± she demanded, eyeing the sweets scattered all over the floor. ¡°I heard you two were causing a dreadful racket. Turns out you¡¯re not only rude and rowdy, but you¡¯re also brawlers. Absolutely brilliant, I must say.¡±


    ¡°What do you want, Hermione?¡± Harry asked, a bit testily as he rubbed his eyes, not too keen on fixing his glasses with her watching.


    ¡°Well, I only came to let you know that the whole train¡¯s in an uproar. Everyone¡¯s fussing about and running in the corridors like headless chickens,¡± she said, sniffing again in disapproval, as if such behavior was beneath her. ¡°Anyway, you¡¯d better hurry or you won¡¯t have time to change. I just spoke to the conductor¡ªhe said we¡¯re nearly there,¡± she added, her nose in the air as she finally turned to leave, clearly needing the last word.


    ¡°Bet she¡¯s related to Malfoy,¡± Harry muttered, fiddling with his broken glasses.


    We got changed into our school uniforms, robes on top. Harry swept the leftover sweets into his trunk, and we started putting on those ridiculous hats, making faces and cracking up at how daft we looked, wondering if we were actually supposed to wear them with our robes. But then we grew quiet, looking out at the darkening window. I could feel it, what Luna would call ¡®the journey.¡¯ We were nearly there¡ªthe train was slowing down, and soon it came to a stop.


    A voice crackled through the loudspeaker, telling us to leave our luggage in the compartments. It¡¯d be taken separately.


    The platform was dark and chilly, with a crowd of first years spilling out, barely able to see. I shivered a bit, regretting taking off my jumper.


    ¡°First years! All first years, over here!¡± boomed the voice of a giant, with a massive lamp swinging above the crowd. ¡°Right, you all here? Follow me, and mind yer step! First years, with me!¡± he called again, leading us into the darkness.


    The path twisted, and suddenly everyone gasped. There, above the dark lake, the castle loomed, lights gleaming in its windows. Its quiet, solid strength felt like protection, a place of calm.


    They herded us into rickety little boats, four to a boat. With us were a cute round-faced girl and a black boy.


    The closer we got, the more I could feel the power of the castle. It felt almost like the kind of energy I shared with Mum, but stronger¡ªlike a man¡¯s strength, protective. It felt like we were under its watch now. Very strange, but kind of comforting.


    We drifted through a tunnel and landed at a dock, then trudged another fifteen minutes to the castle, following the glow of the gamekeeper¡¯s lamp.


    And at last, Hagrid gave three knocks on the castle¡¯s huge, iron-bound doors.


    I reckon all these boats, the bows, and the three knocks on the door must mean something. It¡¯s like a magical ritual, where we bow our heads, asking for help and protection, and it¡¯s granted to us.


    McGonagall was way younger than I¡¯d pictured her, and Hagrid was a lot taller. I thought he¡¯d be a bit shorter. But they weren¡¯t wrong about the strictness and prim nature of the Gryffindor head of house¡ªno mucking about with her.


    We were led into a small hall, given a lecture on the houses and the points system, then left alone. The first-years started chattering right away, guessing what the Sorting would be like. Almost everyone had read A History of Magic and knew that the Sorting was done by a hat, but they seemed to think we¡¯d have to answer its questions, solve riddles, or show some bravery.


    When the ghosts floated in, the girls squealed, and even the lads jumped in surprise. There were about forty of us, so it was already a bit cramped, and the ghosts just floated right through us and vanished through the opposite wall as if we were in their way. It felt awful, like I¡¯d been chilled to the bone and had pins and needles all over.


    Only two ghosts stayed to chat with the first-years. It almost turned into a stampede when everyone flinched back at once, huddling into a corner to stay as far as possible from the ghosts. Even Malfoy dropped his scowl at us and hid behind Goyle.


    Thank Merlin, McGonagall returned. She lined us up in pairs and led us into the Great Hall. I had to drag Potter along¡ªhe was so nervous he could barely walk.


    The ceiling of the Great Hall was something else. Really, everything in the castle just oozed magic. It wasn¡¯t like having a bunch of enchanted objects lying about; the whole place¡ªfrom the stones beneath our feet to the candles floating overhead¡ªwas enchanted. I wanted to just stand still and listen, hoping to understand something special, hear something meant only for those who knew how to listen. If only Luna were here¡­ she¡¯d definitely hear it.


    Meanwhile, Granger was constantly muttering about where and when she¡¯d read about the enchanted ceiling.


    McGonagall brought out the Sorting Hat¡ªit looked like a copy of the ones in our school supplies, only ancient, covered in patches. It opened what was meant to be a mouth and sang. Meanwhile, I kept wondering where I¡¯d end up. Judging by the song, I figured they¡¯d probably send me back home. I didn¡¯t feel particularly brave or noble¡ªdefinitely not Gryffindor. With my laziness and indifference, I had no place in Ravenclaw. Slytherin was out of the question, and I¡¯d always imagined Hufflepuff as a close-knit community, where I definitely wouldn¡¯t fit.


    While I was thinking, the Sorting had already started.


    Granger happily ran off to Gryffindor, followed by Neville and Harry. Then they called my name¡­


    "Well," said a voice in my head, "you have a curious mind and thoughtfulness, but you lack perseverance¡ªnot Ravenclaw. Too honest and not nearly sly enough¡ªnot Slytherin. You have kindness, but you¡¯re a bit detached¡ªnot a fit for Hufflepuff. But you do have a sense of justice and a desire to protect the weak."


    "Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted, and feeling a bit lost, I headed to the table, where my brothers¡¯ red heads were visible, and plonked down next to an obviously pleased Harry. He said he¡¯d been crossing his fingers for me. Well, looks like I¡¯ve somehow made a friend without even noticing.


    The rest of the Sorting and the headmaster¡¯s speech were a blur. I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the Hat¡¯s words. It was amazing how it could judge me when I didn¡¯t even know these things about myself.


    Then, suddenly, the tables were laden with food. Mountains of it, on golden platters. Even the plates and goblets looked gold. Seamus¡¯s mashed potatoes looked ridiculous on such a posh plate.


    I paid my respects to the chops and roast potatoes while glancing around the Hall, as Harry rubbed his forehead and questioned Percy about something, and Granger latched onto a ghost.


    I joined in the conversation with Seamus, Dean, and Neville. They talked about themselves, so I put in a word or two as well. Hearing how Neville¡¯s magic had first appeared was wild. The pranks from the twins at home seemed like gentle family jests by comparison.


    I wanted to have a look at the professors, but Harry and the others kept pulling my attention away. And who was there to look at, anyway? Just people. Well, aside from Flitwick, who looked quite odd.


    The school song was something else. A complete mess, but Dumbledore and our two jokers seemed to love it¡ªthey held on to the last word longer than anyone else.


    Percy was the perfect image of a prefect. Over the last year, we¡¯d grown a bit distant. He¡¯d grown up a lot, had new friends, and was eyeing up girls. What did he need with a younger brother now?


    Peeves, who greeted us on the way to the tower, looked just as vile as his behavior. No one could get rid of the menace, and he knew it, which he made full use of. But Percy threatened him with the Bloody Baron, and Peeves quickly bolted, shouting crude insults as he went.


    The entrance to the common room was behind a life-sized portrait of a plump lady in a frilly pink dress.


    ¡°Caput Draconis,¡± Percy said, and the portrait swung aside, revealing a round hole.


    We filed in, with Neville needing a bit of help¡ªhe tripped over the threshold and almost landed flat.


    Didn¡¯t get a good look at the common room. Lots of red and plenty of furniture. Bit too small for such a lively house, if you ask me.


    They hustled us off to bed right away. We climbed a spiral staircase to the top, where the dormitory was¡ªa round room with five old-fashioned four-poster beds draped in velvet curtains.


    I only had enough energy left for a quick shower, but even that seemed a step too far for the rest of the lads. When I got back, they were already out cold.


    I scribbled a quick note to Luna, promising to write again in the morning. Stuffed an apple and a leftover cutlet from dinner into Scabbers¡¯s cage. I wasn¡¯t planning to let that traitor out or sleep with him around. Even Percy kept his rat in a cage. Then, finally, I collapsed into bed.

 Chapter 15

    The next morning, I was woken up by Harry, who¡¯d accidentally knocked over the cage with Scabbers while reaching for his glasses. To be fair, the noise didn¡¯t wake anyone else, just me. He looked mortified and apologized profusely, then dashed off to the shower, though I barely had time to explain how to work the magical taps.


    According to Harry, the Dursleys were always moaning about how much he cost them, so he only ever got ten minutes for a wash¡ªbarely time to get started. Here, though, he could take his time, really splash about while everyone else was still sleeping, and there wasn¡¯t even breakfast to make. Poor kid was so used to getting up early at his aunt¡¯s house that he was up nearly an hour before my alarm.


    I figured I might as well get up too and do something useful, so I got started on a detailed letter to Luna, describing the journey, the new faces, and my first impressions. Strange, but without that girl around, it felt like something was missing, like a sense of calm had disappeared, leaving me feeling cold and empty. Being with Luna felt like walking through a quiet park in autumn, leaves crunching underfoot, just the two of you, and none of the hurry or bickering you get around here.


    By the time I finished writing, cleaned out the cage, and fed Scabbers, time had flown. I dashed to the showers while they were still empty since the facilities on our floor were shared. At the end of the corridor, there were ten showers and toilet stalls and only six sinks. It was a bit of a free-for-all.


    There were more showers by the Herbology classroom on the ground floor and in the Quidditch club as well, and toilets on all floors. But still, it didn¡¯t seem well thought out. For such a massive castle, we¡¯re crammed five to a room.


    Later on, Emma Donahue, the other Gryffindor prefect, and Percy gathered all the first-years in the common room and gave us a little speech. It was a bit dry, but you could tell they meant it¡ªpride in Gryffindor, house bravery, sticking up for each other, all that jazz. They advised us to dress warmly. The charm spells keep the dorms, common rooms, and classrooms cozy, but the rest of the castle is a bit drafty, with high ceilings, long corridors, and stone walls everywhere. Sometimes, the wind howls through the galleries, like a strong draught through pipes.


    The common room is quite cozy¡ªrug, fireplace, loads of worn-in armchairs. But it¡¯s smallish. The sofas by the fire are charmed to hold up to ten people if you squeeze in, and the fireplace itself expands so we can all toast marshmallows together. I remember we used to toast bread, but here it¡¯s marshmallows¡ªrubbery and not even that sweet, really. More like gelatinous foam. Bit rubbish if you ask me, but to each their own. Still, the older students hog the fireplace, so don¡¯t even try or you¡¯ll end up with pink hair and oinking like a pig for a week.


    On the way to the Great Hall, I had a bit of a chat with my neighbors. I was curious about how other wizarding families lived since, besides Luna and my family, I hadn¡¯t really met many wizards.


    Fast-forward a bit, and I can say we¡¯ve got a pretty decent group. We all hit it off quickly over shared interests and mutual curiosity about the Muggle world. Funny, though, why was it so different in the books? Harry and Ron mostly kept to themselves, but here we all got along.


    Neville kept to himself a bit more, though. He was happy enough to listen to us talk about Muggle stuff, but he didn¡¯t jump in much. I don¡¯t think he minded being on his own. Some people are just natural observers, aren¡¯t they? Like to be around but not necessarily involved.


    Seamus was a half-blood and lived in a mixed village, a bit like ours, only in Sussex, near Chichester. Good lad, lively sort. He¡¯s got this wild blend of Muggle and magical knowledge. He feels more like a Muggle than a wizard sometimes, but he absolutely loves magical gadgets, especially flying. Says he spent his whole childhood on a broom and grew up loving both Quidditch and West Ham United.


    Football isn¡¯t really my thing, but we had a telly in the workshop, and Gill was a Liverpool fan while Matt rooted for Everton. So I could join in the chat when it came up, same as Harry¡ªhis uncle rooted for Manchester United.


    Thought I¡¯d be the tallest in our year¡ªSeamus and Neville were a head shorter, and Harry barely reached my ear. But Dean Thomas had me beat by half a head, though I was a bit sturdier. He looked like he¡¯d walked right out of one of those films about inner-city lads, with all his slang and swagger. Stepfather¡¯s in the civil service, three younger sisters, mum stays at home. They live in a big flat on the outskirts of London, in Westminster. From what I recall from Muggle newspapers, Marylebone Street and that area are a bit dodgy. So I wasn¡¯t too surprised when he boasted about forging signatures and picking locks. The guy¡¯s also a dab hand at art, especially graffiti¡ªfascinating bloke.


    Dean and I got on well, bonding over a shared love of cars¡ªcould chat about them for hours with Seamus listening in. And when he found out I¡¯d worked in a garage fixing cars, he was impressed.


    With both Dean and Seamus supporting West Ham, they hit it off pretty quickly and became good mates. Same with me and Harry. He was like a little shadow, especially after I taught him about runes and charmed his notebook so no one but him could open it.


    I showed him the basics, and he enchanted his other things with runes on his own, with me keeping an eye. Seamus and Dean wanted to try it too, so I shared my paints. Seamus already had some items with similar enchantments, but it¡¯s more fun to do it yourself, isn¡¯t it?


    We offered Hermione a go, but she turned her nose up, saying she didn¡¯t trust self-taught skills, especially without Ministry approval. She reckoned people should buy charmed items from professionals. If everyone did it, it¡¯d be chaos, apparently. She even pointed out that we wouldn¡¯t start runes lessons until third year. Fair enough, at least she didn¡¯t report us.


    Her dormmate, Kella, though, was keen and ended up enchanting everything she could. She later teased Hermione for lugging half the library around, while Kella¡¯s enchanted bag held just as many books but felt light as a feather.


    Turns out we had a couple more girls in our year besides Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione¡ªtwo I didn''t even remember from the books. One was Fay Dunbar, a pretty brunette with blue eyes who carried that bit of pureblood arrogance, and the other was Kella, a Muggle-born black girl.


    Oddly enough, Hermione was turning her nose up at her roommates. No idea what happened between them, but Parvati and Lavender were always sticking together, Fay had a best mate in Hufflepuff, and Hermione could have easily befriended Kella¡ªthey were both Muggle-born, after all. But by the looks of it, the two girls had clashed early on. Kella would always scowl at Hermione and mutter "High and Mighty," clicking her tongue in disdain whenever they crossed paths. I couldn¡¯t figure them out, but at least they weren¡¯t throwing punches.


    <hr>


    As we walked to breakfast, chatting and taking in the castle, Dean couldn¡¯t resist scratching at a painting to see if it was really alive, though we tried to stop him. The lady in the painting let out a shriek loud enough to make our ears ring and promptly fainted. We were left scrambling when all the other portraits nearby turned up in a huff and started giving poor Dean a right earful. We had to leg it while they heckled us from the walls. Dean didn¡¯t live it down for days, and we took every chance to tease him, saying he¡¯d fondled a lady¡¯s bottom.


    What got to me, though, were the crowds of students following Harry around, whispering, staring. They kept their distance since we were always in a group, but it still made him nervous. Harry kept losing track of the way, which was tricky enough already. Lucky for him, we all stuck together for lessons at first, each of us remembering different bits, so we learned our way around soon enough. And being in a group made it easier to fend off Peeves, which kept him at bay. Plus, Percy had already told me where most classrooms were, though getting there was a different matter. Still, together we figured it out.


    Now, I didn¡¯t find the shifting staircases or moving classrooms nearly as confusing as the others did. I¡¯d seen plenty of strange things at Luna¡¯s house, so they didn¡¯t bother me. But the others were driven mad by the lack of any fixed landmarks in the castle, especially since none of them could ¡°read the path¡± and thought the castle was toying with them. They¡¯d see a suit of armor by the Charms classroom one day, and next time, it¡¯d be gone, so they¡¯d end up running across the whole castle just to get to class.


    See, some of us learned to follow the ¡°path¡± that Hogwarts itself seemed to offer up. You could fight against it¡ªlike most Muggle-born and half-blood students did¡ªinsisting on getting places in a straight line, opening every door, getting lost on the staircases, battling Peeves, and dashing into class at the last minute. Or, you could play along with the path, which felt like the castle was teaching you to feel it. You could wander around for what felt like hours on strange floors, only to emerge right by your next class with ten minutes to spare.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    It¡¯s interesting, though¡ªsome magical folks didn¡¯t get it either. The twins, for instance, definitely understood it, but Percy didn¡¯t. The Neville in the book eventually got the hang of it too; he found the Room of Requirement, after all, understanding the ¡°Path.¡± Most people knew about it, but only a few could actually find it.


    Then there was old Filch, who knew the Path inside out, could get from one end of the castle to the other in no time at all, no magic needed. And his cat definitely saw it too, as did most magical creatures, I reckon.


    Once I explained it to the lads, we started exploring Hogwarts, finding hidden tunnels and long-forgotten rooms. And Filch never caught us¡ªnot once. The castle protects its own ¡°travelers.¡± It became our little secret, one we¡¯d never share.


    <hr>


    Soon enough, we realized that magic was about more than waving a wand and saying ¡°abracadabra¡±¡ªit was something much deeper.


    Once a week, from midnight to one a.m., we¡¯d be up in the Astronomy Tower studying the stars, and on Thursday mornings, we¡¯d map out constellations, take notes, and make calculations. It reminded me of when we¡¯d map out weather patterns in primary school, just like that¡ªonly here, it was all tied to the stars. Nothing too hard so far.


    Then there were three double periods of Herbology each week. We¡¯d start with an hour of theory, then move into the greenhouses to dig in the dirt, prune plants, or add fertilizer. Every now and then, we¡¯d learn a spell related to the lesson.


    For instance, we practiced ¡°Incendio,¡± the fire spell, on a Prickly Shrub. The fire makes it wilt, and it also drives away gnomes and doxy fairies. For those of us like Harry and me, or some other Muggle-borns, it was a bit of a shock setting fire to a living creature. But gnomes and doxies are considered pests, and wizards aren¡¯t sentimental when it comes to pests. No one¡¯s going to wait around while they chew through a few thousand Galleons¡¯ worth of plants¡ªthis isn¡¯t the carrot patch at home.


    ¡°History of Magic¡± turned out to be dead boring. Binns droned on in a monotone without pausing, and everyone but Hermione would doze off. Our group ended up doing our homework right there in class. George gave us some old notes to copy, covering the topics that apparently hadn¡¯t changed in years. The exam questions hadn¡¯t either, so thankfully, we didn¡¯t have to memorize the entire textbook, which was massive. So far, school wasn¡¯t as hard as I¡¯d expected¡ªat least not yet.


    Hermione would look over disapprovingly now and then and had tried once or twice to appeal to our better nature, but it didn¡¯t work. At Hogwarts, everyone bent the rules a little to make time for more interesting things than schoolwork. I think Hermione would¡¯ve ratted us out if not for her sense of house loyalty¡ªshe wasn¡¯t daft, after all. So instead, she¡¯d just roll her eyes and give us a good telling-off, though we¡¯d all just ignore her.


    My instincts weren¡¯t wrong. Transfiguration turned out to be right difficult, and McGonagall¡¯s explanations weren¡¯t much different from the books. I learned all of Gamp''s Laws and exceptions easily enough, but some of the text on Transfiguration was just a slog. I¡¯d copy out whole paragraphs without really taking in the meaning, and my essays were nearly as long as Hermione¡¯s. McGonagall gave it a fair go trying to straighten me out, but eventually she just let it be. My ¡°O¡± for practical work made up for my ¡°D¡± in theory, and I ended up with an ¡°A¡± overall¡ªwhich suited me just fine.


    Harry and Dean had the opposite experience, though. They didn¡¯t know any more than me, but they had ridiculous luck¡ªwriting answers straight out of the book, and it somehow always landed them an ¡°A,¡± even getting ¡°O¡±s as their final marks. Meanwhile, Neville was absolutely smashing it in Herbology.


    Charms was my time to shine, as it was for Seamus. We were naturals at it¡ªno bother at all.


    And then there was Hermione, top of the class in everything. She was either reading or practicing spells morning to night, and her essays were easily twice as long as everyone else¡¯s. But there was one thing about her that really got under my skin.


    She¡¯d beg for marks.


    I remember we had a girl like that in our old class back home. Arina Artemyeva, top of the class. Always alone, always with her books, always trying to boss people around and make them like studying. She wasn¡¯t a bad person, to be fair, and she was nice-looking too. But she was forever tattling on people to the teachers, all with the best intentions, of course. She was so clever there was hardly anything to talk about with her¡ªopen her mouth, and out came a lecture. Anyway, everyone respected her academic achievements, but she¡¯d mess up now and again. But instead of just moving on and learning from it, she¡¯d go running to the teachers, practically in tears. She needed that perfect score for her report. She¡¯d badger them until they just gave in and let her have it, especially since the teachers always had a soft spot for her.


    Well, Hermione did the same thing for a while¡ªalways running to the professors to ask why something was marked one way when the book said otherwise. That just meant more questions, more discussion, and more time wasted, which didn¡¯t exactly endear her to the teachers. But you get the idea¡­


    Quirrell¡¯s lessons, though, were a bit of a laugh. His stuttering and way of talking made every lesson into a comedy act. Oddly enough, we all rather liked him¡ªat least us first-years did. We thought of him as a friendly clown, and his Defense classes were basically a treat.


    He¡¯d stammer through tales of encounters with vampires, a zombie he¡¯d supposedly defeated, an Eastern prince he¡¯d helped get rid of a werewolf. Six hours of magical tall tales every week.


    Mind you, his lessons so far were on simple stuff like Will-o''-the-Wisps, and over the year we¡¯d only learned seven spells:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Mucus Ad Nauseam (causes sneezing and a runny nose)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Verdimillious Charm (green sparks to show where you are)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Repelling Hex (pushes enemies back and stuns them)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Vermillious Charm (red sparks to signal for those in need of help)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Fumous (creates a smoke screen)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Nox (extinguishes light)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Lumos (light spell)</li>


    </ul>


    The spells weren¡¯t difficult, and everyone picked them up quickly, along with half a dozen related charms¡ªLumos Maxima and so on. Spellwork was fun, but I didn¡¯t really see what made it ¡°an art.¡±


    As for Potions, that was a real mental workout. Snape filled the room with gloom and immediately tore into Harry, just like in the books. It was strange, though¡ªhe looked full of venom, practically breathing malice, but I didn¡¯t get a sense of real hatred from him. It was more like he was just naturally nasty, always had been, and didn¡¯t make exceptions for anyone, age included.


    And a Legilimens couldn¡¯t act all impulsive like that, even if he tried¡ªthey¡¯re usually as icy as you like¡ªjust a habit.


    He actually reminded me of this actress back home¡ªRanevskaya, absolutely biting, saying whatever she pleased, and humiliating anyone without a second thought so they wouldn¡¯t get too high on themselves.


    But the moment Hermione started tearing up over the points she¡¯d lost, I wanted to give that sadist a punch. Kids aren¡¯t supposed to understand the psychology of grown men or justify their words and actions. Snape was a right piece of work, even if he was technically on the ¡°good¡± side.


    At least Neville didn¡¯t blow up his cauldron, though he did botch the potion. He was so terrified of Snape he¡¯d practically freeze up. Thankfully, Seamus gave him a few hints¡ªthey were sitting right next to each other.


    But we got back at that prat for making a girl cry.


    I talked Harry into a scheme. After all, Snape never let a class go by without winding him up.


    ¡°Neville, Harry, what¡¯s got you so scared of the guy?¡± I asked. ¡°He¡¯s just a teacher, and he can¡¯t even hit you. Sure, he¡¯ll take points, but he¡¯d find a reason for that anyway, detention too. Let¡¯s give him a taste of his own medicine.¡±


    ¡°So, what then? Sabotage the lesson or just wind him up?¡± Dean asked, sizing up the options.


    ¡°Nah, that won¡¯t bother him,¡± I replied. ¡°We¡¯ll just get ourselves into trouble that way, end up in detention every day.¡±


    So we came up with a plan, and off we went.


    We decided to be overly polite to Snape, all smiles and thank-yous. Eventually, the other Gryffindors joined in. He wanted to be famous? He could have it.


    At first, he didn¡¯t notice. He kept up with his nasty comments, and Harry would just look back pleasantly, even when points got taken. He¡¯d nod without snapping back, even when Snape insulted him or mentioned his ¡°no-good father.¡± And whenever Snape started on Harry or Neville, the other Gryffindors would smile at him like he was their hero. Imagine it¡ªten smiling Gryffindors, and he had no clue if they were taking the mickey out of him or what. That dungeon had never seen so many smiles in its life. And Snape couldn¡¯t take points for being polite, or put everyone in detention.


    Snape had loads of hang-ups, too. He was more comfortable with hate, honestly, than with any hint of mockery, especially from a bunch of kids. And he clearly didn¡¯t like all the attention¡ªhe¡¯s not Lockhart. But in the Great Hall, when all the Gryffindors were grinning at him more than at their own Head of House¡­


    The other teachers must¡¯ve noticed all the attention Snape was getting, too, and probably had a laugh about it during their staff meetings¡ªjudging by the knowing grin Dumbledore would give him. He even raised his goblet to us once at dinner, giving a little wink and hiding a mischievous smile in his beard.


    After about a month, Snape finally left our lot alone and made a point of ignoring us¡ªat least until all seven years of Gryffindors started smiling at him. Points were still docked for sloppy work, but the insults stopped. And if a few snide comments did slip out, we¡¯d just smile right back, giving him a look that said, ¡°Good job, Teach, go ahead and go off ¡®our new celebrity.¡¯ We still love you, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Harry, by the way, turned out not to be such a goody-two-shoes after all. He¡¯s a good kid, friendly enough, but if you wind him up¡­


    At first, he was a bit skeptical of our plan and just about managed to hold his temper. But once he saw it working, he couldn¡¯t help but grin¡ªhe drove our enemy mad with zero remorse. And to say Gryffindors lack cunning? Yeah, right! So that¡¯s how we survived in the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry.

 Chapter 16

    Oh, have I not told you yet how I became mates with Hagrid?


    We first met at the end of the first week of term, in the evening after dinner. That morning, at breakfast, the post came, with owls swooping down left and right, dropping letters, newspapers, and parcels to their owners.


    I hate that part. Not everyone has Seeker reflexes, so parcels often miss and end up plopping into plates, goblets, or onto people¡¯s heads, scattering crumbs and splashing juice all over. And sometimes, in the rush to grab a letter, students flail around so much they elbow each other or fall off the bench.


    Then there¡¯s the birds themselves, doing victory laps before dive-bombing onto plates, snagging bacon with their filthy claws or sticking their unwashed beaks into pitchers. Feathers everywhere¡­ it¡¯s a mess.


    So, to avoid eating breakfast with feathers in our porridge, we started coming in a bit early¡ªeat in peace, wait out the owl rush, then head out. Worst comes to worst, if they spill pumpkin juice on us, we can always use charms to clean up.


    Anyway, Hagrid sent Harry a letter inviting him over for tea in the evening. Everyone was keen¡ªeven Neville thought it was brilliant to meet a real giant and visit his hut. So the five of us trooped along. Harry didn¡¯t expect all of us to tag along and looked a bit nervous¡ªprobably worried about Hagrid¡¯s reaction to the whole gang showing up. But after the infamous Potions lesson, he couldn¡¯t think of much else besides Snape¡¯s hatred and unfairness.


    When Hagrid saw us all, he seemed a bit taken aback. But he rustled up chairs and found enough chipped mugs for everyone.


    The tea was delicious, too¡ªtasted like wild herbs, summer berries, and a hint of sunshine. The cakes, though, were impossible to eat, so we all pretended we¡¯d eaten loads at dinner and tucked into some fragrant honey and pickled apples instead.


    As for Fang, Hagrid had to tie him up behind the hut. When the friendly beast saw the crowd of us, he got so excited, howling and yipping, he almost knocked down the hut and even managed to break a couple of mugs.


    It turned out Hagrid was actually great fun to talk to. He entertained us with stories about all the creatures in the Forbidden Forest, had a laugh at Filch and his cat, and shared stories about the twins¡¯ latest tricks. He even mentioned how he was a bit envious of Charlie, who¡¯d been invited to work at a dragon reserve. I read him a letter from my brother, which had just arrived that morning.


    Charlie wrote to me every week after he left. Nothing special¡ªjust little snippets of life at the reserve, mainly about what their team gets up to.


    In today¡¯s letter, he mentioned that some poachers had killed a couple of dragons. Dragons are valuable for pretty much every part of their bodies, but poachers only take the heart, liver, horns, glands, and back leg tendons. Eggs and young dragons fetch even higher prices. The rest they leave behind¡ªtoo hard to hide, and it doesn¡¯t sell for as much.


    Hagrid was fuming with anger. I couldn¡¯t help thinking he¡¯d rip those poachers to shreds with his bare hands if he worked there. But you need proper training to work with dragons. Strength alone isn¡¯t enough¡ªyou need a whole group of wizards to handle them with magic. So Hagrid just sighed and carried on with his¡­ questionable breeding experiments. And I started wondering if maybe he wasn¡¯t all that thrilled with his job as gamekeeper¡ªjust had nowhere else to go.


    The poachers got away, apparently, but Charlie¡¯s team managed to save one young dragon and a couple of eggs.


    The lads spotted an article about the bank robbery, lying on Hagrid¡¯s table while he was refilling our tea¡ªit was doubling as a coaster, probably to stop the table from getting any grimier than it already was.


    Seamus and Neville both get The Prophet, so they brought up the robbery, and Harry eagerly joined in. But Hagrid quickly shut down that line of conversation and, handing us a load of rock-hard cakes, shuffled us out the door. That day, we didn¡¯t hear a word about Flamel.


    We heard about him later¡ªafter Harry made the team as Seeker. Seamus and Dean had headed off to their ¡°Exploding Snap¡± club, and Neville, who¡¯d just been released from the Hospital Wing after breaking his leg falling off the stairs, stayed in the common room. So it was just Harry and me who went to see Hagrid¡ªhe was bursting to brag.


    That same article was still under Hagrid¡¯s teapot, and this time Harry managed to get Hagrid talking about Flamel. But we didn¡¯t think much of it¡ªjust found it interesting and moved on.


    <hr>


    At the end of our first week at Hogwarts, they put up a notice about our upcoming flying lessons on Tuesday. And with the Slytherins, no less. We hadn¡¯t had a single class with them all week, and now¡­


    The others were nervous about it¡ªexcept for me and Seamus, who could already fly pretty well. Lavender and Fay had probably tried it at home, too, but Parvati, Kellah, and Hermione were visibly worried. And Harry was properly on edge, along with Neville, who¡¯s terrified of heights. Can¡¯t blame him¡ªhe manages to find trouble on the ground, so the sky¡¯s a whole other matter. In the end, no one could think about anything else besides flying.


    Tuesday came, sunny and clear, which cheered everyone up a bit. But the chatter was still all about the lesson.


    Hermione had spent the weekend reading every book on the subject and was quoting interviews with Quidditch players and lines from manuals at breakfast, making everyone even more tense.


    Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Malfoy was also in fine form, regaling his listeners with stories about how he¡¯d dodged Muggle helicopters. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how he even knew about Muggle tech. My dad¡¯s obsessed with Muggle stuff, and he¡¯s only just learned what a car is. I¡¯m starting to think Lucius is secretly doing business with Muggles, and I made a note to look into it.


    Neville¡¯s Remembrall and his attempts to explain it to Hermione helped calm everyone down a bit¡ªbut only for a moment. Then Malfoy came over, trying to snatch it out of his hands.


    Our whole gang jumped up at once, even Hermione, who looked ready to launch into a speech, but Professor McGonagall came by and scattered us before it turned into a scene. I suggested Neville hand the Remembrall over to Percy for safekeeping, since none of us had bags with us. We didn¡¯t need a rerun of that classic book scenario.


    The brooms looked dreadful. Even back at the Burrow, we''ve got a "Comet" from twenty-odd years back¡ªDad probably flew it back when he was in Hogwarts¡ªand it¡¯s in better nick than these. They¡¯re Cleansweeps, but completely wrecked. They must¡¯ve been written off at some Quidditch club and generously donated to the school.


    Madam Hooch, our flying instructor, turned out to be a sharp-tongued woman with a training style a bit like Snape¡¯s, minus the dripping sarcasm. She must¡¯ve been a Quidditch pro herself once, probably annoyed she¡¯s stuck teaching kids instead of training pros. Honestly, half the professors here need to be shown the door.


    Neville ended up tumbling about thirty feet, hitting the ground flat. The girls screamed in horror, the lads just stared, and Hooch acted like it was no big deal. She bent over, checked him for injuries.


    "Up you get, lad," she urged, tugging poor groaning Neville to his feet. "You¡¯re fine. Just a broken wrist. Get a move on, I¡¯ll take you to the Hospital Wing. Come along, I¡¯ve still got a lesson to run."


    The poor boy, limping and wincing in pain, let Hooch help him hobble towards the castle.


    "As for the rest of you¡ªset those brooms down, or you¡¯ll be flying straight out of school," she snapped at us all.


    I watched this chaos and thought about what Dad had always said. He was so right.


    In the wizarding world, things are different. No one¡¯s going to sympathize with you or worry after you. Wizards¡¯ safety¡ªkids included¡ªis their own business.


    In any Muggle school, they¡¯d have sacked a teacher like that with a ¡®good riddance,¡¯ maybe even hauled her off to jail. But here, Neville¡¯s somehow at fault for not handling the broom. It¡¯s like they¡¯re still in the Middle Ages, not just with the decor, but the thinking. Like back when most kids didn¡¯t survive infancy and people didn¡¯t fuss about it¡ªjust God¡¯s will, survival of the fittest.


    Wizards must reckon magic keeps you safe from everything, and if you end up dead, well, that¡¯s your destiny.


    The lad fell from a height equal to a three-story building, and the teacher didn¡¯t even cast a spell¡ªjust checked his limbs! He¡¯s probably bruised his organs, could have a concussion, cracked bones, and bruised ribs, too. She shouldn¡¯t have even touched him, should¡¯ve just called the nurse. She didn¡¯t even try to stop the broom, catch him, slow the fall, nothing! Just yelled from the ground, "Where are you going, boy?... Come back¡­¡±


    And then she left nearly twenty kids, Gryffindors and Slytherins, to their own devices. Trouble didn¡¯t take long to brew.Stolen story; please report.


    By the time she got back, it was to a full-blown skirmish. I thought maybe without the Remembrall this fight might have been avoided, but no. Eager to show off, Malfoy, not realizing the monster he was waking with his big mouth, started mouthing off.


    First, he went on about Neville¡¯s clumsiness, then sneered about Muggle-borns, and threw in how Gryffindor was full of riff-raff¡ªhalf-wits and scum.


    Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe not, but as he said the last bit, he shot a sneering look at Dean and Kella.


    Dean saw that and charged him first, seeing it as a racial insult. Seamus, his best mate, joined right in, and soon the whole lot of us were at each other¡¯s throats.


    Kella, bless her, was scrappy enough to take on Goyle. I went after Nott. Dean somehow ended up with Crabbe, who must have shoved him aside from Malfoy, so now Harry had taken on Draco. Lavender and Parvati were both ganging up on Bulstrode.


    Only Hermione was running around helplessly, looking completely panicked, trying to appeal to everyone¡¯s common sense, which had clearly been lost in the brawl. When I¡¯d managed to take down my opponent and looked around, I saw two Slytherin girls sitting on a big boulder, watching it all unfold. The blonde one with striking blue eyes was quite pretty, though she seemed a bit aloof, but her dark-haired friend, with short hair and a glint in her brown eyes, looked like she¡¯d be a scrappy one too. Strange she didn¡¯t join in.


    The lesson was a wash, and any talk of flying was over. Furious, Hooch docked fifty points from each house and marched us all up to the Hospital Wing, where she handed us over to the bewildered nurse. Moping, Madame Pomfrey must never have had so many patients dropped in her lap after a basic lesson.


    Luckily, most of us just had scrapes, bruises, and scratches, all of which she quickly patched up. Kella and Dean joined Neville as the only ones needing to stay a couple hours. As for the Slytherins, Crabbe and Bulstrode joined Zabini, who¡¯d already been in the ward since the night before.


    On the way back, we ran into our Head of House¡ªand let¡¯s just say, the living envied the dead. She poured all her fury on us, hissing like a ferocious cat, and stripped Gryffindor of another fifty points¡ªnearly every point we¡¯d scraped together over the first week. And we got even more flak from the older students¡ªthought we¡¯d get a beating, but once they found out who we¡¯d fought and why, they laughed, gave us veiled approval, and that was that.


    And a week later, Harry showed everyone his skill in flying class, and Professor McGonagall added him to the Quidditch team.


    Neville followed us around after that, practically our shadow. Dean must¡¯ve told him about the fight, and he thought we¡¯d started it for him. But then, around two weeks before Halloween, he drifted off on his own, just after we ran into that troll.


    The lot of us used to play ¡®the Path,¡¯ and there was hardly a place it didn¡¯t take us. In a month and a half, we¡¯d explored nearly half the castle. And one day, it led us to the dungeons and took us right to the Menagerie.


    Finding abandoned classrooms and potion labs was great fun, not scary in the least. But when a stone wall slid back to reveal a dark passageway, I felt a bit spooked. I¡¯d never have gone alone, or even with just Harry. But with five of us, we braved the unknown.


    As soon as the passage closed behind us, torches flared along the walls, revealing a stone staircase leading downwards to a massive gate.


    Under its creaky groan, we stepped into a broad corridor with tiny windows high up, gazing around in silent awe at what lay before us.


    The corridor was lined with cells¡ªlike a prison, with iron bars. This is exactly how I imagined Azkaban. Most of the cells were empty, but some had odd animals that were clearly magical in nature. Nearby was what looked like a potions lab.


    I started to think maybe we''d stumbled upon the place where Hagrid breeds his little "experiments." Or maybe this is where they keep live ingredients for potions¡ªthere were a couple of tanks with snakes and toads, and another one with rats.


    The whole thing was giving me the creeps, and I felt like legging it. Neville was practically fainting; he kept backing up until he bumped into an empty vat, then jumped back against the wall and shrieked like a banshee. We turned and saw it. No, him.


    A massive, human-like figure, easily four meters tall, wearing nothing but a loincloth and chained to the wall. He smelled like earth and the forest¡ªsort of like an animal¡ªbut there wasn¡¯t any actual stench; must¡¯ve been a charm on the cell.


    The giant stirred, stood up to his full height, let out a deep, growling roar, and threw himself at the bars. The chains yanked him back, but we didn¡¯t stick around to watch; we¡¯d already turned tail and were running like mad through the doorway that had appeared in the wall. At that point, we didn¡¯t care if it dropped us into Snape¡¯s bathroom while he was taking a shower.


    But ten minutes later, we found ourselves back at the corridor leading to our tower. Odd, really¡ªI could¡¯ve sworn we¡¯d been running straight the whole time.


    Later on, I found an old paper from the late 1700s, and apparently, this place really was an official menagerie, where they kept magical creatures for Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.


    The collection was funded by the Board of Governors¡ªthey used to send the Care of Magical Creatures professor and top students on trips around the world during the summer holidays to gather specimens. Back in the day, Hogwarts had the largest collection around, even rare beasts like werewolves, centaurs, merpeople, and vampires. They¡¯d even gotten international praise.


    The unicorns must¡¯ve been released into the Forbidden Forest from there. They used to breed them for sale, along with other magical animals and creatures.


    But then society decided to ¡°civilize¡± itself, and the menagerie was deemed inhumane. There was political upheaval, and the Board eventually stopped funding Hogwarts altogether, including the menagerie. The animals were mostly set loose¡ªsome into the lake, some into the Forbidden Forest, and others were just, well... disposed of.


    So now all that¡¯s left are a few greenhouses and the groundskeeper¡¯s little vegetable patch. The self-sustaining Hogwarts of old is long gone. No wonder our brooms are rubbish, and the castle could really do with a few repairs. It¡¯s all fallen to pieces.


    After we finally caught our breath, the lads and I chatted about it for a while. But eventually, everyone started drifting off. Neville first, claiming he had other things to do whenever we¡¯d go off exploring. Then Dean and Seamus openly said they weren¡¯t keen on risking their necks sneaking about the castle with us. They didn¡¯t have that innate sense of magic, so they couldn¡¯t fully trust it. They did use the Path, though¡ªbut only to get to class faster. The Path doesn¡¯t force anyone if they¡¯re unwilling. You just need to picture where you want to go and trust the castle¡¯s magic.


    So it ended up just me and Harry¡ªtwo explorers. We still got on well with the others, but it was never the same. Everyone started finding their own interests, like they do at any school. By Halloween, Hermione was hanging around, even though I thought Neville would be our third this time. But no, he was too timid and a bit of a homebody.


    On Halloween, I was keeping an eye on Hermione¡ªjust in case.


    Charms class went fine, then History of Magic, also smooth. The last class was Potions, and that went as usual too. I was nearly convinced the whole troll business was just in my head.


    Harry and I finished our History homework, hung out in the common room, and played chess¡ªSeamus let Harry borrow his set. Then we went down to dinner with everyone else.


    I was halfway through my plate when I overheard Lavender and Parvati talking about Hermione, and looking around, I realized she wasn¡¯t there.


    Didn¡¯t even have time to think it through. Going to the teachers didn¡¯t seem like much use¡ªwho knew if a troll was even coming? But waiting felt wrong¡ªwhat if they didn¡¯t get there in time to save her? Still, I wasn¡¯t planning on going myself. One troll encounter was enough.


    The second Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, babbling about a troll before fainting, I was up. Panic broke out, everyone yelling, girls shrieking, and students rushed the exits. And that¡¯s when Dumbledore showed us his true colors. A wave of power rolled off him, and everyone froze in their tracks. Then he let up and passed control to the prefects.


    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re off to, Ron? Harry, stop!¡± Percy shouted, but I was already pushing through the crowd, hoping to catch McGonagall.


    I managed to grab her by the door and told her where Hermione was hiding, not knowing about the troll.


    And do you know what she did? She told me off, going on about breaking evacuation protocol and that it wasn¡¯t my job to save my classmates. Then she sent us back to the Tower with everyone else¡ªlike we were just supposed to let the grown-ups handle it.


    But I kept insisting, and she finally caved. Plus, the girls'' bathroom wasn¡¯t far¡ªwe got there in less than five minutes.


    As we reached it, Hermione stepped out, red-eyed and puffy. McGonagall was all ready to start in on her, but then we saw a massive shadow at the end of the hall.


    Gotta give McGonagall credit. She was quick. She conjured a Patronus, sent it for backup, and then whisked us into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us.


    A bluish shimmer of locking¡ªor maybe even distracting¡ªcharms washed over the door, and everything fell silent.


    Hermione started pestering us with questions. Harry was about to explain something when suddenly there was a deafening bang on the other side of the door. Whatever it was hit it a couple of times, making the wood shudder, but it held.


    About fifteen minutes later, as Tempus showed, we were let out and sent back up to the tower. Gryffindor lost some points for rescuing Hermione, though they gave them back later, and I got a personal ¡°thank you for your bravery¡± from Dumbledore and a week of detention with Filch from McGonagall. They never canceled that detention either¡ªfor being cheeky to a teacher and ¡°improperly pushing my luck as a student.¡± I came away with a solid conclusion: all the Hogwarts teachers are stubborn, aloof adults with far too much pride and a maddening belief in their own infallibility.


    By the time we left, only a small puddle of slimy muck, a stinky rag, and a club about our size were left of the troll, so we didn¡¯t actually see the thing.


    Hermione was angry with us at first¡ªfor telling a teacher she¡¯d been hiding in the loo, and for coming in there after her. But a couple of days later, when she¡¯d learned all the details, pored over every book on trolls she could find in the library, she quietly joined our group. From then on, she tagged along everywhere with us, even cutting into her precious library hours. And she actually blushed when she thanked us for not forgetting about her. She probably reckoned that if we cared enough to come looking for her, it meant we liked her and considered her a friend. We just accepted her friendship without fuss¡ªit¡¯s not like we were going to turn her away.


    As for why she¡¯d been upset in the first place, it was so simple I wouldn¡¯t have guessed. She¡¯d been pestering all the teachers about her grades¡ªwanting to know exactly where and why she¡¯d messed up. Most of them went along with it.


    Only with Snape, it didn¡¯t go as planned. She¡¯d gone to ask why she got an ¡°Acceptable¡± on her potion instead of the ¡°Outstanding¡± she¡¯d thought she deserved. He just laid into her with some remark about overachievers and know-it-alls who think they¡¯re better than everyone else, and showed her the door. That was all there was to it. I realized that no matter how careful you try to be, if you¡¯re meant to end up in trouble, you will.

 Chapter 17

    At breakfast, Potter received a broomstick. Well, technically, it was a long parcel wrapped in brown paper.


    ¡°Don¡¯t draw attention, and by no means open the parcel in front of everyone,¡± read McGonagall¡¯s note in her handwriting. ¡°Inside is your new broom, a Nimbus 2000, but we don¡¯t want the other first years demanding one as well.¡±


    I almost sprayed my juice into my goblet laughing¡ªsix enormous owls carried the parcel across the entire hall during peak breakfast hours, dropping it on the table with a loud clang, smashing a couple of plates of bacon and tipping over a pitcher of juice¡­ Yes, Harry, it¡¯s a great secret¡ªkeep it safe. Where¡¯s the logic in wizards, I ask you?


    ¡°Ron, Hermione, let¡¯s take it up to the dorm and have a look. I can¡¯t wait till the last lesson!¡± Harry said, practically bursting with excitement. He grabbed the parcel and nearly ran for the exit, giving us a hopeful look. Dean and Seamus followed, and then the twins exchanged glances and joined in too. Hermione and I both put down our plates, sighed, and hurried after them.


    ¡°Boys,¡± Hermione huffed dismissively, urging me on by nudging my back, ¡°come on, Ron, or we¡¯ll be late for our first class. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve grabbed us some apples and pastries.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied with a grateful smile. I could tell she was curious to see what a high-speed broom looked like, even if she wouldn¡¯t admit it out loud¡ªdidn¡¯t want to look like the rest of us, I suppose.


    But in the entrance hall, a crowd of students blocked our way. Malfoy intercepted Harry at the staircase and loudly declared that first years weren¡¯t allowed broomsticks and that Potter would be expelled for this. Naive.


    He didn¡¯t throw any insults around, though. It was just him and his sidekicks against our whole group, and we had the twins with us too. He didn¡¯t make it personal and wisely kept his mouth shut. But he wouldn¡¯t let Harry pass, clutching the broom, waiting for a professor to come and sort it out.


    Instead of McGonagall, though, it was Flitwick who came by and congratulated Harry on being made Seeker. That left Malfoy utterly gobsmacked¡ªWood had kept Harry¡¯s appointment a secret as part of some grand strategy.


    So, Malfoy slunk off to the dungeons, looking humiliated, and the rest of us trooped off to admire the broom.


    It was a beauty¡ªspeed and power were obvious in the sleek lines of the mahogany handle. Each bristle was perfectly aligned, polished to a shine with a faint scent of lacquer and polish, and fitted with elegant silver stirrups. A masterpiece, screaming speed and prestige. How on earth did McGonagall scrape up enough Galleons for it? Then again, Potter¡¯s vault key was still missing, wasn¡¯t it?


    We¡¯d have kept passing it reverently around forever, endlessly praising its features, but Hermione reminded us it was time for class.


    Needless to say, Harry was on pins and needles all day. After our lessons, he grabbed his broom and ran off to the Quidditch pitch, dragging us along.


    I¡¯m not that much of a Quidditch fan, and neither is Hermione, so we headed to the stands, pulled out our books, and settled down with our homework, swapping reference guides here and there while munching on apples and keeping an eye on the field. Wood was putting Harry through the paces.


    I¡¯m naturally a bit lazy, and if I¡¯m not interested, good luck getting me to do it. Harry, on the other hand, could be forced into things, as his aunt always managed. But here, no one was looking over anyone else¡¯s shoulder, and Potter let himself slack off a bit.


    He genuinely enjoyed Charms and Transfiguration, got stuck into them willingly, and always finished his homework. Astronomy, though, he found dull, even though you only needed basic math to plot charts, which he was decent at. But drawing up all those graphs bored him stiff, so he¡¯d leave it till the last minute and slap it together half-heartedly, just like he did with his Potions essays.


    In the library, he¡¯d never read guides or textbooks but preferred books on charms written in a light, story-like style. Even then, he¡¯d soon get bored, start to fidget, and try to talk me into a wander around the castle rather than sit there gathering dust.


    I usually didn¡¯t give him advice or lectures like Hermione loved to do, but I couldn¡¯t allow myself to slack off as much. Harry¡¯s parents had sorted his future for him, but I had to think about mine on my own. So, I¡¯d already started weighing my options, leafing through career pamphlets and considering professions.


    At first, the library amazed me. Row upon row of shelves taller than I was, thousands of books on every topic. But it wasn¡¯t all it was cracked up to be.


    To find anything useful, you had to know what you were looking for. Usually, the teachers pointed us in the right direction¡ªrecommending books and reference materials. But that didn¡¯t start until second year, as they were still sizing us up.


    Sure, you could read everything like industrious Hermione, but that way you¡¯d wade through mountains of information for just a few nuggets of gold.


    And there wasn¡¯t much clear explanation. There were pamphlets on jinxes or joke charms with straightforward lists, but serious books were mostly filled with fluff¡ªpages on the spell creator, their life story, the moment they were inspired, the awards they got for it, and so on. It was more like memoirs than textbooks. But that was expected, I suppose¡ªmost of the ancient volumes were hand-written by wizards from private family collections gifted to the school.


    So, I took a chance and approached Flitwick, asking him for recommendations. He looked at me for a moment, hid a smile in his beard, then jotted down a couple of authors¡¯ names. Those are what I¡¯m working through now.


    McGonagall, when I asked her for extra reading, told me not to clutter my mind with rubbish I wouldn¡¯t understand anyway and that I¡¯d be better off focusing on practice. According to her, as long as I knew practical magic, I¡¯d get into the Auror training program. Why she thought I¡¯d go there, I have no idea.


    The lads didn¡¯t wrap up their training until twilight, with Wood babbling excitedly the whole way back that we¡¯d definitely take the Cup this time¡ªHarry caught every snitch. Harry was well pleased too. No matter what he says, he¡¯s not a quiet lad, and he likes a bit of fame and attention. He was already subtly vying for the lead, trying to get me to go along with his plans and follow his lead. Not that he¡¯d managed that before¡ªhe¡¯d always been in my shadow. But I took it all philosophically¡ªthe main thing was that he didn¡¯t drag me into any of his wild adventures.


    Malfoy couldn¡¯t handle it, of course. Not a week later, he blocked our path and challenged Potter to a duel.


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair, Potter,¡± he spat angrily. ¡°When the school favors its little pets. I¡¯ve got a broom too, but they wouldn¡¯t let me bring it to school, and you¡¯re only supposed to make the team from second year. But of course, you¡¯re special.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I cut in, hoping he¡¯d drop it faster, ¡°so don¡¯t forget it. Tell us if you want a scrap. We¡¯ll be there.¡±


    ¡°Twelve o¡¯clock, in the Trophy Room,¡± Draco sneered, then strode off, giving Hermione, who had just arrived, a disdainful look.


    ¡°What¡¯d I miss?¡± she demanded, narrowing her eyes, glancing from my annoyed face to Harry¡¯s confused one.


    ¡°Malfoy challenged me to a duel, midnight in the Trophy Room,¡± Harry told her, throwing me a quick look as we hurried on to Herbology.


    ¡°A duel?¡± Hermione practically shrieked, loud enough to make people turn their heads. ¡°You¡¯re both mad,¡± she added in a fierce whisper. ¡°We¡¯ll be in trouble for wandering the halls after curfew. Can¡¯t leave you two alone for a second without you getting into some mess. Do you want to be expelled?¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Calm down, Granger,¡± I replied curtly, frowning. I always call her by her surname when her bossy tone winds me up. ¡°We¡¯re not actually going.¡±


    ¡°But isn¡¯t that cowardly?¡± Harry asked, a bit uncertain.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll bet Malfoy won¡¯t show up either. Just think about his head of house; no one in their right mind would risk getting on his bad side.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Harry said slowly, probably imagining a furious Snape.


    The next morning, that smug blond git was thoroughly disappointed to see us all sauntering in late to breakfast¡ªwe¡¯d overslept. Bet he¡¯d been thinking we¡¯d already packed our bags.


    ¡°What, chickened out, did you, Draco?¡± I taunted cheerfully, grinning at his confused face as we passed him on the way to Charms. ¡°Or did your mum not let you out? Next time, remember to ask permission before trying to set up an ¡®adult¡¯ duel. We were waiting ages, you know, hoping you¡¯d put on a real show¡­ but all we got was Filch. Did you think we¡¯d confuse you two?¡± I laughed openly as he chewed his lip in annoyance.


    ¡°Shut up, Weasley,¡± he finally hissed, looking away. ¡°Filch is more than enough for the likes of you¡ªa blood traitor and a half-blood.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and you didn¡¯t have the guts to say it to my face?¡± I replied casually, grinning wide. ¡°Alright then, Draco the Coward, we¡¯ll know not to take your word seriously from now on.¡±


    We strode past him, leaving him fuming red-faced, and went into the classroom.


    ¡°Ron, but we didn¡¯t show up either, so doesn¡¯t that make us cowards too?¡± Harry whispered, sounding a bit guilty as we sat down, with Hermione staring at me intently, expecting an answer.


    ¡°I knew they wouldn¡¯t come, Harry,¡± I reassured him. ¡°Slytherins never play fair. Malfoy wouldn¡¯t risk himself; he¡¯d just have tipped off Filch to try and get us expelled. And he doesn¡¯t know we weren¡¯t there, which means now we¡¯re free to make him squirm.¡± I gave him a conspiratorial wink.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not exactly fair,¡± Hermione said uncertainly.


    ¡°Maybe, but he was the one who started cheating first,¡± I countered, just as Flitwick walked in.


    Early November brought the first snowfall, covering the hills in gray instead of green. And Harry was gearing up for his first Quidditch match, so nervous that it took both me and Hermione to keep him calm. She even found the time to check and correct his homework. She¡¯s actually pretty decent when she¡¯s not bossing everyone around, and she really helped Harry out, even lending him Quidditch Through the Ages. The stuff about dodges and feints helped him focus a bit. And later, when Harry mentioned McGonagall had told him about his dad¡¯s Quidditch days, she even went and found his dad¡¯s trophies and a commemorative plaque in the Trophy Room. It cheered Harry up a bit.


    The rumours were starting to get to him, though. Wood made sure no one saw Harry in practice, but whispers were already spreading around. Half of Gryffindor thought he¡¯d make a mess of it, the other half were cheering him on in advance. And, of course, old fans of the ¡°Boy Who Lived¡± were suddenly keen to admire the ¡°youngest Seeker in a century.¡±


    Malfoy, of course, was loudly proclaiming how badly Harry would muck it up, and poor Harry was hardly eating or sleeping, terrified he¡¯d let the team down.


    Snape wasn¡¯t making things any easier. Two days before the match, he had a run-in with Harry in the corridor. Poor bloke tripped and accidentally bumped into Snape, and his bag even fell open, with a textbook smacking the professor on the leg so hard he actually started limping. Long story short, Snape docked Gryffindor five points and kept Harry¡¯s book for himself.


    The morning before the match was clear but freezing. Harry fretted and finally decided to try and get his book back¡ªit calmed him, he said. I wasn¡¯t there¡ªFlitwick had given me a task to write a report using some books he recommended, so I went to turn it in. It¡¯d decide if he¡¯d suggest any more reading for me and whether I could get extra lessons in Charms. McGonagall had given Hermione the same assignment, and I wanted to get better at Charms than her so she wouldn¡¯t keep lording it over me. So, I only heard about it all after the fact.


    ¡°Can you believe it,¡± Harry whispered, dragging us away from the castle. ¡°He wasn¡¯t limping because of the book. Snape¡¯s got a massive tear on his leg, like something took a chunk out of him. And then he was muttering to Filch about some creature¡ªI only caught the bit about it having three heads. I decided to get out of there quick, but he saw me and went white as a sheet, yanked his cloak over his leg, and then started yelling, ¡®Out! Get out!¡¯ and chucked the book right at me. Thought he¡¯d jump up and chase me down.¡±


    ¡°So, you got your book back?¡± Hermione asked sternly, clearly unimpressed by his disregard for the printed word.


    ¡°Book? What book, Hermione?¡± Harry shot back, looking scandalized. ¡°I barely got a word in, and then I completely forgot everything except getting out of there. Snape¡¯s such a git,¡± he added, slamming his fist into his other hand. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything, but he still made me feel like I had. How does he do that?¡±


    "Natural talent and a born knack for being a git," I said, shivering as the cold wind cut through me. "What? Tell me I''m wrong?" I added, catching Hermione''s disapproving glare¡ªshe couldn¡¯t stand when I used that sort of language.


    "And how are we supposed to return the book now?" Hermione asked desperately, looking at us with a glimmer of hope. "I only borrowed it for a week; if I don¡¯t return it, Madam Pince will never trust me again."


    "Don¡¯t worry about it, Hermione," I replied. "We¡¯ll tell Percy¡ªhe¡¯s a prefect, so he can fetch it. Hardly worth the fuss. Oh, by the way, Flitwick said he might let me join the club next year. He gave me a whole list of books to read, look," I grinned, showing her the scroll but not letting her take it.


    "That''s not fair," she huffed, turning away as we made our way back to the castle. "I asked him too, but he said I had too much on my plate already. It¡¯s infuriating when everyone acts like they know more about your life than you do."


    "Well, you¡¯re the one who wants to be top of everything," I teased. "Teachers love it when you shower their subjects with attention, and you¡¯ve taken on everything. At least you didn¡¯t try Snape."


    "I did," she said with a scoff, and we all stared at her, gobsmacked. "He very politely pointed me to the door."


    "You¡¯re a bold one, aren¡¯t you?" Harry whistled. "I don¡¯t get why you two are always studying. Ron, we haven¡¯t even explored the whole castle yet. The journey¡¯s way more fun than your endless cramming."


    "Potter," I growled, but it was too late.


    "The journey?" Hermione latched onto it. "What¡¯s that? Are you two hiding something from me? And you call yourselves friends..."


    "Ron, can I?" Harry asked, practically begging. "She¡¯s one of us. Let¡¯s tell her?"


    "Fine," I nodded. "Might as well, seeing as you¡¯ve let it slip."


    The rest of the way, Harry explained how we spent our free time. Hermione kept peppering him with questions.


    "Sounds like a load of nonsense," she concluded with a skeptical look, "but I¡¯d like to see for myself."


    We agreed on the first Sunday after the match.


    The day of the match, Harry looked pale¡ªlike he might faint any second.


    "Come on, mate," I encouraged him. "All you¡¯ve got to do is catch the little ball, that¡¯s it. You¡¯ve done it loads of times. Don¡¯t worry about the rest; the lads will have your back while you do your bit."


    "After all, it¡¯s just a game, not end-of-year exams," Hermione chimed in, piling sausages onto his plate and shooing Seamus away. Seamus had his own way of showing concern, going on about how Seekers were tiny and easy to knock off their brooms, so Harry needed to eat up.


    The hour passed, we wished Harry luck, and went to find our seats in the stands.


    The match was intense. It¡¯s one thing watching a game when you don¡¯t know the players and another when it¡¯s your brothers and best mate out there. Percy nearly chewed his tie to bits from nerves.


    Our side managed a goal, just as Katie Bell took a Bludger to the back of her head.


    "Oi, up there, shift over a bit, or I¡¯ll end up squashing someone," Hagrid¡¯s booming voice sounded behind us. "Came to see our Harry, didn¡¯t I?" he said, settling onto the bench and raising his binoculars. "Looks like Harry¡¯s seen the Snitch. Go on, Harry!" he bellowed at full volume.


    Without binoculars, it was hard for me to see¡ªthe players were so high up. But Hagrid kept up a running commentary, occasionally muttering some colorful words about Slytherin¡¯s dirty tactics.


    "Something¡¯s not right," Hagrid suddenly said, sitting bolt upright. "Ron, have a look, what¡¯s going on with Harry?"


    Harry¡¯s broom had thrown him and was now shaking violently as he clung on with one hand, desperately trying to grab the handle with the other.


    "Maybe the broom broke when Flint crashed into him?" Seamus suggested anxiously. "Why aren¡¯t the professors doing anything?"


    "No, that broom¡¯s got powerful enchantments," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "Only Dark Magic could do this."


    "Exactly," Hermione said, eyes lighting up as she snatched my binoculars. "Look, it¡¯s Snape, he¡¯s jinxing the broom. I¡¯m going."


    "Hermione, wait," I called after her, but she¡¯d already bolted.


    I grabbed Hagrid¡¯s binoculars and squinted at the teachers¡¯ stand. I saw her knock into Professor Quirrell and set Snape¡¯s robe on fire. Chaos erupted.


    "Neville, open your eyes," Dean¡¯s voice came from behind me. "Harry¡¯s got control of his broom again."


    I switched my gaze to Harry, who was now flying confidently, as if he hadn¡¯t been dangling moments away from death a minute ago.


    Suddenly, Harry dove and slid off his broom just before hitting the ground. He stood up, raised his hand to his mouth, and showed everyone the Snitch.


    "He¡¯s caught it," Seamus whispered reverently. "Harry caught the Snitch!" he yelled, leaning so far over the railing I thought he might topple over. "Gryffindor wins!"


    The stands erupted, and for the first time all game, I felt like I could finally breathe.

 Chapter 18

    As promised, we took Hermione with us on Sunday. The girl was practically glowing with anticipation. And good thing too¡ªshe needed a distraction. She and Harry had driven us all up the wall with their endless debates over why Snape wanted to kill Potter. Neither I nor Hagrid could talk them out of it.


    Unfortunately, Hermione didn¡¯t take to the Path. She didn¡¯t feel it, didn¡¯t understand it, and saw it all as some creative excuse for our idling about the castle instead of focusing on homework.


    What really miffed her was that we didn¡¯t show her the Menagerie Harry had mentioned. Truth be told, we couldn¡¯t find it ourselves.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Hermione,¡± I tried explaining. ¡°The Path is Hogwarts talking to you. We¡¯re not just wandering about on our own; it decides what to show us.¡±


    ¡°You talk as if the castle¡¯s alive,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Get real. It¡¯s just ancient stone, Ron. The magic comes from the source, not the building. I¡¯ve read all about it. Hogwarts and its grounds are the biggest concentration of magical energy in Britain, not some fairytale Path. Admit it, you and Harry made up the Menagerie. Or you¡¯ve just forgotten where it is,¡± she added with a smug little lift of her nose before marching off.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been looking for it for a week, Hermione!¡± I called after her. ¡°You just don¡¯t believe us.¡±


    Still, she didn¡¯t stop tagging along with us, mostly to keep up appearances and because of her idea of ¡®duty¡¯¡ªfriends should share secrets and fun, after all.


    The oddest part was, I felt the castle didn¡¯t like it. We found nothing new or exciting for ages, like we were going in circles. The magic felt dull, as if Hermione¡¯s skepticism had sucked the life out of it.


    It amazed me how different she and Luna were. With one, magic seemed to bloom and weave itself around us; with the other, it withered like a plucked flower, leaving behind an emptiness.


    I mulled over how to hint that Hermione should stop coming with us, delicately, so she wouldn¡¯t take offense. But fate¡ªor sheer chance¡ªsorted it out for me.


    One day, something finally shifted.


    We took a new route, wandering so long that we even got tired, which never used to happen. But we ended up at the highest viewing platform in the castle, even above the Astronomy Tower. The view was stunning, if windy, and even Hermione admitted it was impressive.


    On our way back, we followed yet another new path, and I felt a bit relieved¡ªThe Path had accepted Hermione. Maybe she was starting to believe, or at least feel something.


    A hidden passage led us to a landing. To the right stretched a wide staircase, and to the left, a huge door that creaked open as we approached. We¡¯d definitely never been here before.


    ¡°This way, Hermione,¡± Harry urged, noticing she was eyeing the stairs as a safer option, and then squeezed through the doorway. She rolled her eyes dramatically but followed, and I brought up the rear.


    ¡°I think this is quite unnecessary, Harry,¡± she whispered loudly as we made our way through the massive, seemingly endless hall with a high ceiling. The windows were shuttered, but thin slivers of light slipped in, casting a mysterious glow. ¡°We¡¯ve had enough exploring for one day,¡± she droned on. ¡°And our homework won¡¯t do itself. You two might be careless, but there are limits¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shush,¡± I snapped, freezing in place. I wasn¡¯t sure what it was¡ªmaybe the silence wasn¡¯t as lifeless as it should be, or perhaps a breeze carried new scents.


    ¡°How long are we just going to stand here?¡± Hermione demanded, not bothering to lower her voice. ¡°And you could be more polite, Ron.¡±


    ¡°Harry, do you feel that too? We need to leave,¡± I ordered when he nodded and started backing away. ¡°Hermione, move.¡±


    ¡°Why should we go all the way back when there¡¯s a door right there?¡± she argued stubbornly, taking a step forward and glancing at us questioningly.


    We first heard a low rumble, like a distant airplane. The noise swelled, and then we saw it¡ªsomething far worse than a troll.


    Out of the dark, only a few meters from her, a monstrous, silent figure emerged¡ªa three-headed dog, easily over eight feet tall. It spanned nearly the entire corridor, and the thought that it wasn¡¯t chained made my blood run cold.


    Hermione slowly turned around and froze. The dog let out a menacing growl with all three heads, and we bolted, shouting.


    I was at the back, chucking Hagrid¡¯s rock-hard cakes from my pockets as we¡¯d just been at his hut before our trek. They hit the stone floor with a thud, and I hoped it would distract the beast, even for a moment.


    There was a loud crash and a yelp behind us. Thankfully, Fluffy was chained, and the jerk of the chain threw it back.


    The dog whimpered pitifully, then flopped down and started whining.


    We stopped, gasping for air. Hermione, who wasn¡¯t used to running, leaned one hand against the wall and clutched her chest with the other, looking both outraged and shocked.


    ¡°Save it for later,¡± I wheezed, still trying to catch my breath. ¡°This isn¡¯t the place for an argument.¡±


    Suddenly, the dog had enough of watching us and started barking.


    ¡°Run,¡± Harry urged. ¡°Filch will hear that.¡±


    We dashed for the exit.


    ¡°Never! Do you hear me? Never again am I going anywhere with you two!¡± Hermione raged as we turned into the corridor toward our tower. ¡°We nearly died today, and if we¡¯d been caught, we¡¯d have been expelled. Risking my life for some daft notion¡ªnot a chance!¡±


    ¡°Alright, Hermione, no hard feelings. We get it,¡± Harry nodded. ¡°But we¡¯re still going to explore the castle.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re mad,¡± she muttered, but her tone had softened.


    "Hermione, The Path always looks after travellers," I replied, as she rolled her eyes like a mum who¡¯s had quite enough of kids¡¯ nonsense. But I¡¯d long since made peace with her narrow-mindedness.


    "I just don¡¯t understand how they can keep such a monster at school?" Harry went on. "What if someone runs into it by accident?"


    "It¡¯s on the third-floor corridor¡ªthe one that¡¯s supposed to be closed off," I explained. "I¡¯m sure it¡¯s guarded. We just stumbled across it from the wrong side."


    "Yeah, but why have a dog like that in the castle at all?" Harry wasn¡¯t letting this go.


    "You¡¯re both idiots," Hermione interjected. "There was a huge trapdoor on the floor. The dog must be guarding it. How could you not notice?"This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Well, you were standing the closest," Harry shot back. "And honestly, I thought it was a brilliant adventure. Wouldn¡¯t mind doing it again. What?!" he asked, catching her outraged look. "The dog¡¯s on a leash, isn¡¯t it?"


    <hr>


    "Shame you¡¯re not staying for Christmas, Ron," Harry said, clearly disappointed as he saw Hermione and me off to the train.


    "Don¡¯t worry," I reassured him, grinning sheepishly. "You won¡¯t get lonely. George, Fred, and even Percy are staying, too. And Mum¡¯ll send presents for Christmas¡ªbrace yourself. I bet she¡¯ll knit you one of her special sweaters. It¡¯s only two weeks, Harry. You won¡¯t have time to blink, and the holidays will be over."


    "Ron, why aren¡¯t you wearing your winter cloak yet? We¡¯re about to leave!" Hermione scolded, lugging her heavy bag with her. "And where¡¯s your luggage, anyway?"


    "I¡¯m leaving my things here, Hermione," I replied with a smirk. "Or do you think I haven¡¯t got a spare pair of socks and pants at home?"


    "Ugh, you¡¯re impossible," she blushed, then turned back to Harry. "I really can¡¯t stay, Harry, sorry. But I hope you use the time wisely and find something about Flamel before we¡¯re back," she added sternly, and I rolled my eyes and turned away.


    Lately, she and Harry had been obsessing over that mysterious package from Gringotts. After our encounter with Fluffy and the info Hagrid let slip, their clever heads had pieced most of it together. There was definitely something valuable being hidden at the school; now, they just had to find out what.


    I wasn¡¯t getting involved, and that clearly annoyed the pair of them. Sure, I went with them to Hagrid¡¯s and listened to their theories, but I wasn¡¯t about to help them with the whole treasure hunt. In fact, I was planning to knock some sense into them and keep them from messing with that stone. For now, though, their busy minds could keep themselves occupied; less chance of them getting into trouble. And right then, I had only one worry: several hours in a train compartment with Hermione¡­


    My dad picked me up at the station, and we took the Floo back home.


    It had taken some convincing to let me come home for the break. After all, we¡¯d be heading to see Charlie in Romania in three days. That¡¯s why my brothers had stayed behind at Hogwarts.


    They didn¡¯t mind much, really. Percy had prefect duties¡ªand an official girlfriend now, that Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater. And the twins had their little projects to keep them busy. Hogwarts was full of unused rooms, and they could probably find some gear lying around. At home, they¡¯d have to hide everything from Mum.


    Mum had tried to talk me into staying, even sent a Howler, but she finally gave in when I threatened to run away from school and walk the tracks home.


    I¡¯d thought I¡¯d have some time alone to do my own thing and maybe visit Luna. But my parents went all out, and now we were off to Romania, the lot of us.


    I went to see Luna the next day, ignoring Mum¡¯s pursed lips.


    ¡°Hello, Ron,¡± she greeted me with her soft smile, opening the door before I could even knock.


    ¡°Hi, Luna,¡± I said, grinning as I hugged her thin, childlike frame. Even Ginny had been sturdier than Luna, and they were the same height.


    ¡°I was expecting you. The Crumuses told me you¡¯d come today,¡± she murmured dreamily, looking somewhere over my shoulder. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve brewed a new drink just for the occasion.¡±


    ¡°Crumuses?¡± I echoed, following her and holding her hand. "And who¡¯re they?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you must read The Quibbler,¡± she replied with a thoughtful smile. ¡°There¡¯s a big article on them in the first issue. I saved it for you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I grinned warmly. ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask your dad to sign it for me one day.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Ron, he wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± Luna chided gently. ¡°He doesn¡¯t work for fame, you know. He does it to spread the truth that¡¯s hidden from most wizards by the Nargles before the Wrackspurts start infecting everyone. And that¡¯s when something awful always happens. It always does, when the Sun is in the twelfth house,¡± she said quite seriously, leading me to the kitchen.


    ¡°Dad said that the Glooml told him the Nargles are stirring this year¡ªthey¡¯re very active in Hogwarts. He¡¯s not sure he wants me back there without a charm, at least. Don¡¯t worry, Ron, I¡¯ll ask him to make you one, too,¡± she said earnestly, fussing around the kettle. ¡°The zeppelin-plums are almost in bloom.¡±


    ¡°Take a seat, Luna,¡± I urged her, ¡°let me have a proper look at you. I missed you.¡±


    ¡°But we wrote every day, didn¡¯t we?¡± she asked, leaning against my side and resting her head on my shoulder.


    ¡°Well, sure, but that¡¯s just letters. This is¡­ real talking,¡± I scoffed, my attention wandering as the kettle whistled. ¡°Didn¡¯t you miss me, at all?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said, completely serious. ¡°I¡¯d forgotten that you¡¯re not a true wizard yet,¡± she added with that otherworldly smile, making me flinch.


    ¡°Pairing notebooks is bound by wizard magic between the people who write in them,¡± Luna explained, pouring some crimson liquid into my cup. ¡°So no one else can use them. You¡¯re meant to feel it rather than just write.¡±


    "What¡¯s this?" I asked, leaning over the cup and giving it a sniff.


    "If you close your eyes, won¡¯t you feel my magic?" Luna asked, sitting down next to me and eagerly nudging the cup toward me.


    "Yeah, I suppose I will. I just hadn¡¯t thought of it like that when I was writing to you."


    "To become a wizard, Ron, you¡¯ll have to blind your mind and let your heart see," she replied unexpectedly clearly, looking right into my eyes. Her gaze had that same intense strength I¡¯d felt on the field, but in an instant, it softened back to her usual dreamy, gentle look. "You were always here, Ron, that¡¯s why I didn¡¯t miss you," she smiled, brightening up. "Go on, try it."


    "Just don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s lyre root," I blurted, still a bit dazed by her words, and froze as I realized what I¡¯d said.


    "Oh, maybe it is!" she gasped, eyes wide with surprise, and laughed. "Although I thought it was swamp air-root. You¡¯re getting it, Ron! Well done! Just a little more, and we¡¯ll be able to play together. Go on, try it."


    The drink had a strange taste, like nothing I¡¯d ever had before, and, to be honest, it wasn¡¯t pleasant¡ªtoo strong with spices for my liking.


    "Sorry, Luna, I don¡¯t really like it," I admitted honestly, setting the cup down and watching in surprise as she took a sip and closed her eyes with a blissful smile. "Where did you even get this root from?"


    "I just wished for it, and it grew," she said. "It¡¯s part of the game. The Path told me, just as it told me to give you some so you¡¯d understand, too."


    "And what exactly am I supposed to understand?" I asked with a grin, remembering our little game.


    "Well, for now, that tea is tastier," she laughed. "But don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ve got plenty of root left in the swamp. Don¡¯t fret, Ron, you¡¯ll understand eventually," she encouraged, taking another sip.


    "And what about really?" I pressed her. I actually did want to know. "What am I supposed to understand, Luna?"


    "I can¡¯t tell you that, Ron," she said seriously. "Everyone has to walk the Path on their own and solve the Riddles for themselves. But I can tell you what I learned. I think you didn¡¯t like the drink because it¡¯s not tea, the tea you¡¯re used to. You¡¯re comparing the new to the familiar, expecting the unknown to taste like the usual. That¡¯s easier but wrong. That way, you¡¯ll never actually know what the drink is really like."


    "Alright then, let¡¯s give it another go," I decided, pausing over the cup before taking a sip.


    What can I say? The taste didn¡¯t change, but what Luna was getting at started to hit me by the fifth sip. It was like¡­ trying a new fruit that doesn¡¯t match any fruit you know. Like tasting a salty watermelon or something. You can¡¯t think of it as anything you¡¯ve seen or tasted before. You¡¯ve got to take it as it is¡ªunique, unlike anything else.


    Lyre root wasn¡¯t actually that bad once I stopped comparing it to tea. Luna was right about that. At first, the color reminded me of beetroot, and then, unconsciously, I decided it must taste awful. But really, it was more like a thick, sweet flower syrup, almost like orchid nectar, but without that distinctive smell.


    "Thanks. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d say this, but that wasn¡¯t bad," I said gratefully once I¡¯d finished. "Tell me, I had a thought. These lessons aren¡¯t just about tea, are they?"


    "Of course not," Luna nodded approvingly. "You like warmth because it¡¯s comforting, and you dislike cold because it brings pain. But cold doesn¡¯t always mean pain, and warmth doesn¡¯t always mean comfort. It¡¯s just our perception. But warmth and cold are really something else entirely. You¡¯ll never understand them if you keep seeing pain as evil and comfort as good."


    "There¡¯s no good and evil. There¡¯s only power, and those too weak to seek it," I found myself quoting a line that popped clearly into my memory.


    "Oh, Ron, you got it!" Luna¡¯s shout jolted me back to the present. She¡¯d never looked at me with such admiration before. "I told you, the drink would help you. Now we can play together. Isn¡¯t that brilliant?"


    We spent the whole day together, discussing serious things disguised as a game. That was just Luna¡¯s way¡ªshe couldn¡¯t play any other way. Everything had a definite meaning, but figuring it out wasn¡¯t easy. She was right¡ªyou can teach someone to think, but everyone has to learn how to feel on their own.


    On the way home, I kept replaying our conversation. Luna thought I¡¯d understood, but all I¡¯d done was repeat someone else¡¯s words. And it troubled me that the Dark Lord¡ªthe most ruthless, heartless figure imaginable¡ªthought the same way as this strange and entirely magical girl, for whom a friend''s small hurt was the bitterest thing in the world.

 Chapter 19

    Three days flew by in no time. I said a warm goodbye to Luna, managed to catch up with the lads, and even popped by the salon for a trim.


    Oddly enough, while I still loved fancy cars and working on them, the urge to actually do it professionally had faded¡ªit was more of a hobby now. It lacked that feeling of magic. Even our battered old broom was connected to its owner¡¯s magic, but here, with cars, it was just pure eye-candy and the pride of prestige. Guess I¡¯m changing bit by bit, as Luna might say, choosing new things over the usual.


    Ginny was thrilled that we¡¯d all be going together. We left enchanted feeders for the pets, and Percy promised to keep an eye on Scabbers while I was away. So, nothing was holding us back.


    We Flooed to the Ministry¡ªstraight into the arrival zone¡ªand from there, a Portkey took us to Romania.


    The trip was quick, but there was a bit of a jolt. Once there, they gave us universal translators and sent us via another portal to the Reserve, a small settlement where the staff lived.


    It had been ages since I¡¯d seen such beauty¡­


    We were standing in a wide valley between two mountain slopes. Even now, in winter, there was a mix of snow and lush green pine forests, with lakes reflecting a cold, steely gleam.


    The staff lived in a quaint old-fashioned village. No big hotels here¡ªtourists stayed in little lodges with about five to seven people each, and the owners would double as tour guides. Strangers weren¡¯t common in these parts.


    We stayed with Charlie. His little bachelor pad was right by the forest¡ªa small place, just two cozy rooms and a tiny kitchen. Visiting each other wasn¡¯t really the done thing here. Everyone gathered in the local tavern in the evenings for a glass of apple liqueur and some grilled meat.


    It¡¯s embarrassing to say, but I¡¯d never eaten so much in my life! The food was sort of like Russian cuisine, especially the soups and pastries, so I really went to town on it.


    Surprisingly, it was much cheaper to use British pounds than Galleons.


    The exchange rate was about the same as Galleons to pounds¡ªone to five. But while Galleons wouldn¡¯t get me much here, pounds were a different story. So, I treated myself to some souvenirs. I even bought myself¡­ a broom!


    The ¡°Moonlight¡± wasn¡¯t a speedster like the Nimbus, but it looked solid and was one of the most reliable models around. The best bit¡ªit was brand new and all mine. There¡¯s something satisfying about holding something you bought with your hard-earned cash.


    Unfortunately, I could only exchange up to a hundred pounds per person, otherwise, I¡¯d have set up a whole operation where I¡¯d send Charlie pounds and he¡¯d ship me stuff that was dirt cheap here.


    Charlie had planned to give me his broom, but since I¡¯d bought my own, he gifted it to Ginny. He¡¯d just bought himself a new one¡ªa ¡°Silversweep,¡± specifically designed for working on the reserve. It looked sturdier, was better against spells, and more resistant to magical interference¡ªdragons are magical creatures, after all.


    We weren¡¯t allowed into the dragon reserve itself. The security was intense, with charms like you¡¯d see on a military base¡ªeven Charlie had to use a special artifact-pass to get in for work.


    But there was no time to be bored. We visited a viewing platform where we got a look at real dragons through special binoculars. They weren¡¯t the fifteen-meter giants that live in isolation far off behind the magical barrier, but seven-meter youngsters raised in an incubator and fed on the plateau to give tourists a show.


    From a distance, they looked like a pack of hungry vultures, tearing at their prey and squabbling over the scraps. They must have been shrieking something fierce, but we couldn¡¯t hear it from behind the barrier.


    Then we visited a breeding farm and watched Romanian Longhorn dragon eggs hatching. First, we were taken inside and sprayed with some sort of cold mist to make sure we didn¡¯t carry in any diseases¡ªor catch anything ourselves.


    Touching the hatchlings was off-limits, of course¡ªwe just walked down a bright, wide corridor, where each side had panoramic, magic-reinforced glass. In each enclosure, one egg lay in a box. The magical fire never went out, day or night, and a staff member came in twice a day to turn them.


    In another room, magically enlarged and made to look like a forest corner, the little dragons were frolicking, though they mostly just slept. Each dragon had its own space¡ªeven the little ones were solitary and didn¡¯t tolerate competition. Hagrid was right¡ªthey really were adorable.


    We also visited the dragon museum, where we heard an interesting lecture. The best part was a massive skeletal structure in the centre that transformed into different dragons as the lecture went on. It breathed fire, moved, and growled¡ªlooked shockingly real. Hard to believe such massive creatures actually exist.


    There were lighted pathways on the floor so we could get close to this beast without accidentally getting smacked by a swinging head or flapping wing.


    As we left, they gave us each a magical photo¡ªit looked like we were standing between the forelegs of a real dragon. I got mine with a Hungarian Horntail and bought everyone mini dragon figurines that looked like they were alive. Just like something out of a book.


    On our last day, they took us to a show.


    In an arena about half a football field in size, a team of dragon tamers simulated a dragon hunt. Now I understood why you had to know how to fly to work at the reserve.


    The blokes flew as fast as professional Quidditch players, coordinating their spell-casting as they charged at the dragon. It was a team effort, each one trusting the other and working without words¡ªno place for a lone wolf here.


    But Charlie¡¯s job was less brutal; he didn¡¯t kill dragons. He monitored the population and scouted for unregistered specimens. Each team had at least three security officers, a tracker, two dragon slayers, a biologist, and a magizoologist¡ªlike my brother.


    The reserve housed eleven dragon species, though they only bred the local variety¡ªit had nearly been wiped out for its horns. Researchers and observers came from all over the world. Never thought it¡¯d be such a serious international organization.


    I was surprised to learn that there¡¯s also a dragon reserve in Britain, over in West Wales. Not nearly as varied as this one, mind you, but they do have Welsh Greens and Antipodean Opaleyes. The Opaleye was stunning¡ªa white beauty with sculpted wings and peculiar, colorful eyes, graceful as anything. It reminded me of Luna, so I picked up a little figurine of it as a gift. Hope she¡¯ll like it.Stolen novel; please report.


    Time just flew by, honestly, and we didn¡¯t even set foot outside the reserve. Didn¡¯t see any towns, castles, nothing. Our Portkey only worked for the Reserve, so we couldn¡¯t leave the grounds. But all good things come to an end, and soon enough, we headed home. Here¡¯s hoping Charlie sends me an invite for summer, like he promised. Pretty sure I¡¯ve got my career sorted now.


    I spent the rest of the holiday with Luna. Dad added one of his own concealment charms to my broom¡ªhe¡¯s already tried it out on the car. So now I flew over to the Lovegoods'' instead of cycling.


    Dad¡¯s car came out amazing. There were magical walnut wood inserts on the steering wheel, dash, doors, even the gear stick. The interior was done up in leather from young Highland cattle. Really looked sharp and posh. Must be Dad¡¯s first proper gift to himself in twenty years, and probably a secret from Mum. I mean, he didn¡¯t have a son working at a garage in the book, did he? And now it made sense why he kept asking me so many questions.


    Shame wizards are banned from using Muggle tech. Even the Malfoys would probably go for a magical car¡ªjust a top-of-the-line one, naturally.


    Instead of all the regular Muggle dials, he put in an altitude indicator, compass, climate control, invisibility switch, cruise control, and autopilot. It even had something like a magical sat-nav for setting up a route, storing it in memory, and adding up to five stops along the way. And the best bit: if you left it somewhere, it¡¯d automatically head back to the garage after an hour.


    Honestly, I never guessed Dad had this much talent.


    I didn¡¯t have time to poke around too much in the car, though we did take it for a spin. After some well-placed persuasion, he enchanted my broom for me.


    Luna liked her gift¡ªa quick little kiss on the cheek to show it. She named the little dragon Ley and carried him everywhere. Or rather, he climbed onto her shoulder and rode along, even trying to bite me and shove Fluffy off her other shoulder. Crafty little beast, too¡ªit charged from its owner¡¯s magic, but if she didn¡¯t touch it for a while, it¡¯d turn back into a regular figurine.


    I took Luna for a short ride on the broom, though it wasn¡¯t long because, even with climate control, it doesn¡¯t stop the wind. We decided to save flights for the summer. I also tied the broom to myself so no one else could pick it up¡ªsimple anti-theft charm, but not everyone bothers. They say it takes away a bit of speed, but it¡¯s not like I¡¯ll be racing.


    Going back to Hogwarts wasn¡¯t the most exciting thought. Felt like I wanted to be an adult already, doing something interesting¡ªworking at the reserve, maybe. Bit tired of the usual school routine. But at least now I know what to focus on, and there¡¯s no getting out of it for Flitwick. Then I¡¯ll definitely try for the Quidditch team¡ªbest recommendation you could ask for to land a job like that.


    <hr>


    Hermione and I took the train back together, and she spent half the trip chattering away. She¡¯d been skiing with her parents. Didn¡¯t learn to ski well, mind you, but apparently there was a lot to see.


    She liked the Hebridean Black I¡¯d brought her, though she clearly hadn¡¯t expected a gift and looked a bit uncertain at first. She relaxed a bit once Neville, Seamus, and Dean joined us, as they each got one, too.


    Neville was practically in awe of his Chinese Fireball and kept flinching every time it breathed a puff of fire. Seamus and Dean, though, started a battle between the Ukrainian Ironbelly and Welsh Green. I¡¯d saved the Peruvian Vipertooth for Harry.


    <hr>


    Harry was waiting in an emerald-green, hand-knit jumper. Mine¡¯s the same but in gray. Back in autumn, I asked Mum to make mine in gray or black and plain¡ªno letters, thanks; I know my own name by now.


    He was thrilled to see us. Kept busy enough during the day, but being alone in the dorm at night gets a bit lonely and, well, a bit scary, really. But loads had happened to him over the break, which he was eager to tell us all about.


    Hagrid had given him a homemade flute, Hermione brought him a box of Chocolate Frogs, I gave him a bunch of Muggle sweets, and an anonymous ¡°someone¡± gifted him an Invisibility Cloak with a note saying, Use it wisely. We spent ages trying to figure out who it could be.


    During the Christmas feast, Harry found all sorts in his crackers, including a chess set. Since then, we¡¯d had a game before bed every night.


    Oh, and the daft bloke snuck into the restricted section in the library. Nearly got eaten by a book that bites! Didn¡¯t think to bring a charmed torch, ended up smashing a lamp in a panic, setting off screaming charms, and almost got caught by Filch and then Snape. But now, of course, he was treating it all like a brilliant adventure.


    ¡°And I found a magic mirror, too,¡± he said with a sigh, ¡°and saw my parents.¡±


    ¡°Mmm... sorry, but aren¡¯t your parents¡­?¡± Hermione began delicately before trailing off as she caught my warning look.


    ¡°Yes, Voldemort killed them,¡± Harry nodded. ¡°But the mirror showed them as if they were alive¡­ just, you know, without talking. But they hugged me and ruffled my hair,¡± he said, brightening up a bit.


    ¡°Erm¡­ Harry,¡± Hermione interjected, probably picturing it, ¡°I think maybe you shouldn¡¯t go back to that mirror. It sounds a bit¡­ dodgy. I don¡¯t get why they¡¯d keep something like that in a school?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going back there anyway,¡± Harry said, looking glum. ¡°They took it somewhere else, and Dumbledore made me promise I wouldn¡¯t try to find it.¡±


    ¡°Would you have gone looking?¡± I asked, relieved the mirror was hidden before Harry could drag me off to see it.


    ¡°I felt drawn to it,¡± Harry admitted, ruffling his hair nervously. ¡°But since I promised¡­¡±


    ¡°What else did Dumbledore say?¡± Hermione asked, beating me to it. ¡°And how did he even end up there?¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s odd, Dumbledore is,¡± Harry replied after a pause, like he was gathering his thoughts. ¡°When I went the third time, he was already there, just invisible. And he knew about my cloak. Told me the mirror would be moved and that I shouldn¡¯t go looking for it. And if I did stumble across it, I should be ready and not let it mess with my head. Said we¡¯re meant to live in the present, not cling to the past. And when I asked him what he saw in it, he told me¡­ woolly socks, ¡®cause he never gets any as gifts. Do you reckon I should get him a pair next Christmas, Ron?¡± he asked me, completely serious.


    ¡°Go for it, can¡¯t hurt. Even if he was having you on,¡± I replied. ¡°Get some when you¡¯re out shopping for yourself, yeah? I know a good shop where they¡¯ve got nice clothes. You could use some new stuff yourself, mate.¡±


    ¡°Pointless getting me new things,¡± Harry waved it off. ¡°My aunt¡¯s always whinging that I¡¯m hard on clothes.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, ¡®cause they¡¯re Muggle clothes, you daft sod,¡± I chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ve noticed I don¡¯t throw some of my things in the school laundry, right? Do ¡®em myself. And even so, I¡¯ve only worn this new jumper four times, and it¡¯s already got pulls, the shape¡¯s gone off, and some of the seams on my shirts are coming apart.¡±


    ¡°Professor McGonagall showed me a clothes shop straight away,¡± Hermione chimed in. ¡°But I thought it was just school policy, like we all had to wear the same brand. Now I get why I¡­¡± she trailed off, suddenly going red, then started rummaging in her bag, looking flustered.


    ¡°Hagrid didn¡¯t say a word to me,¡± Harry said, surprised. ¡°Ron, can you get new glasses, too? Maybe they break all the time because of magic?¡±


    ¡°You can order them by owl post,¡± I replied. ¡°Just borrow Percy¡¯s catalog. The lenses adjust to your eyesight automatically; all you need to do is pick the frame.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to keep them round,¡± Harry said, looking a bit sheepish. ¡°My dad had ones like that.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll send whatever you want,¡± I said, patting him on the shoulder.


    ¡®Also makes it the official look of The Boy Who Lived,¡¯ I thought to myself.


    Three days later, Harry¡¯s new glasses arrived by owl post¡ªsame round shape, but brand new, enchanted to be damage-proof and water-repellent. I asked him for the old pair for Ginny since he was just going to chuck them.


    He looked a bit embarrassed, but not surprised¡ªhe¡¯s used to being a bit of a celebrity. Ginny, by the way, was over the moon and sent me two whole rolls of parchment gushing about it. I always knew I was a decent brother, but hearing I¡¯m ¡°the best one ever¡± was a first!

 Chapter 20

    Hermione was so upset that Harry hadn¡¯t found anything about Flamel that she threw herself back into the search with renewed determination, practically living in the library. I don¡¯t even know when she managed to sleep. Meanwhile, Harry was tearing himself between Quidditch practices, lessons, the library, and even popping over to see Hagrid.


    Sometimes, it felt like he was deliberately overloading himself just to collapse into bed and knock out, avoiding his dreams. Ever since that mirror, he¡¯d been waking up screaming every night, but he refused to go to the hospital wing. After a week of this, I gave up and went there myself. Told Madam Pomfrey everything, and she handed me a vial of something to help. ¡°Five drops before bed,¡± she said. ¡°No need for the whole dose.¡± It worked a treat¡ªHarry finally got some proper sleep, and his face started looking less like death warmed up.


    When he started feeling better, he spent even more time in the library with Hermione. And then the big news hit¡ªSnape would be refereeing the next match. You can imagine the uproar. Wood started running drills every day to make sure Snape couldn¡¯t find any excuse to fault us and, hopefully, force him to be fair. Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she¡¯d been hit by a Stunning Spell.


    ¡°You can¡¯t play,¡± she declared firmly one afternoon. ¡°He might try something again, and there¡¯s no way I could reach him in the air. What do we do? Maybe we could ask the twins for some Puking Pastilles? You could end up in the hospital wing ¡®accidentally¡¯ poisoned, and the match would go on without you?¡± She glanced at me, clearly hoping I¡¯d back her up.


    ¡°Oh, brilliant idea,¡± I said, rolling my eyes. ¡°And then Harry can spend the day chucking his guts up. Why stop there? Fancy breaking his legs, just to be sure?¡±


    ¡°Hold on, that¡¯s not an option,¡± Harry cut in. ¡°If I¡¯m not on the pitch, the team won¡¯t play. I¡¯ll take the risk. I have to¡ªfor everyone else!¡±


    ¡°But, Harry,¡± Hermione said hesitantly, ¡°what about Professor Snape?¡±


    ¡°Hermione,¡± I snapped, noticing Harry¡¯s resolve waver under her worry, ¡°why do you keep winding yourself up, acting like Snape¡¯s some villain out of a storybook? Think about it¡ªwhy would he risk it? He¡¯s had plenty of chances to deal with Harry quietly, like over the holidays when Harry was wandering about the castle alone at night. Why would he start a grand drama now?¡±


    ¡°Ron?¡± Hermione gasped, shocked at my tone.


    ¡°What? I¡¯m sick of it!¡± I said. ¡°Snape¡¯s a teacher¡ªa bloody awful one, but still a teacher! He¡¯s been here ten years, and Gryffindor¡¯s won the House Cup loads of times. Funny how he hasn¡¯t poisoned Charlie or cursed anyone else. Why would he suddenly go after Harry? What¡¯s he want with a trophy anyway? Do you really think he¡¯s mad enough to kill someone over a hunk of metal?¡±


    ¡°But I saw¡­¡± Hermione started, her voice wobbling.


    ¡°And I saw you set fire to his robes,¡± I said with a smirk. ¡°Looked a lot like you were trying to roast the man alive. All because of a bad grade, maybe? Or were you just saving your friend? Hard to tell without context, isn¡¯t it? Point is, Hermione, sometimes things aren¡¯t what they seem.¡±


    ¡°Ron, stop it,¡± Harry said sharply, pulling Hermione into a hug. He looked serious, and his eyes held a hint of disapproval. ¡°Hermione, don¡¯t cry. I know you¡¯re just trying to help. And Ron might be onto something. Snape¡¯s a nasty git, but¡­ he¡¯s not a murderer. At least, I hope not.¡±


    ¡°I just worry about you two so much,¡± Hermione sniffed, and I immediately regretted being so harsh. It wasn¡¯t her fault I¡¯d had enough of these childish conspiracy theories.


    ¡°Hermione,¡± I said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting her head against me, ¡°you¡¯re already indispensable to us. No need to overdo it. We worry about you too, don¡¯t we, Harry?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Harry said earnestly, handing her a handkerchief and, for some reason, a Chocolate Frog. ¡°Here, take this.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Hermione murmured, dabbing her eyes before managing a shy smile. Whatever she¡¯d been about to say was interrupted by Neville falling through the doorway in a heap. We rushed over to help him up.


    Turned out Malfoy had hit him with a Leg-Locker Curse, and poor Neville had hopped all the way to the tower.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to the professors,¡± he muttered, stubbornly refusing Hermione¡¯s attempts to get him to report it. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough trouble as it is.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re going out, aren¡¯t we, Harry?¡± I said, stretching dramatically.


    ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re not!¡± Hermione cut in, completely forgetting she¡¯d been upset a minute ago. ¡°You¡¯ll lose house points!¡±


    ¡°I earned Gryffindor thirty points yesterday,¡± I said with a grin. ¡°I can spare ten for a good cause.¡±


    ¡°Ron! Harry, say something!¡± she demanded, glaring between the two of us.


    ¡°I¡¯d give up fifteen if I¡¯d earned them,¡± Harry shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯ve only got ten.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll lend you some,¡± I joked, and we both headed for the door without a second thought.


    ¡°They¡¯ll take thirty, you¡¯ll see!¡± Hermione called after us, though she didn¡¯t actually try to stop us.


    We caught Malfoy and his goons just as they were slinking back to the dungeons. Harry, hidden under the Cloak, conjured a patch of ice, sending all three of them skidding straight into the wall. Before they could recover, I hit them with some well-placed jinxes¡ªbinding their arms, locking their legs, and throwing in a good old Tickling Charm for good measure. Watching them hop around was brilliant. Harry even sent a few Stinging Hexes at their backsides for extra motivation.


    ¡°Touch one of ours again,¡± I whispered in Malfoy¡¯s ear while Harry stood invisibly beside me, ¡°and I¡¯ll set the twins on you. Enjoy walking around with green hair and firecrackers up your arse. Back off, Malfoy, if you know what¡¯s good for you.¡±


    Back in the common room, I dropped into a chair with a satisfied grin. ¡°No worries, love,¡± I said as Hermione rolled her eyes at me. ¡°Not even a single point docked.¡±


    ¡°Catch, Neville!¡± Harry called, tossing him a Chocolate Frog, before tucking into his own snack and cheerfully recounting our adventure. Hermione kept shooting us disapproving looks, but at least she held her tongue.


    ¡°Cheers,¡± Neville said with a nod, before turning to pepper Harry with questions. No one offered me any sweets¡ªeveryone knew I wasn¡¯t keen on magical chocolate. ¡°Harry, take the card. You¡¯re collecting them, aren¡¯t you?¡± Neville added as he got up to head to the dorm. ¡°I¡¯ll go tell the others.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Neville!¡± Harry called after him, before suddenly shouting, ¡°Oh, Dumbled¡ªRon! I remember! I¡¯ve got it!¡± His voice was so loud that Hermione and I both jumped.


    ¡°And what¡¯s the point of bellowing like that, Mr. Potter?¡± I said in my best Snape impression, cold and drawling. ¡°If you¡¯ve finally managed to locate a brain cell, there¡¯s no need to make such a racket about it. Take pride in silence.¡±


    It was a spot-on imitation, and Hermione burst out laughing, while Harry let out an embarrassed snort.


    ¡°What¡¯s up, Harry?¡± Hermione asked, still giggling.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Oh! Right! Look here.¡± Harry suddenly shoved a card in her face, speaking quickly and excitedly. ¡°Read it. Go on!¡±


    ¡°Wait here. Don¡¯t move,¡± Hermione ordered, her tone serious now, before sprinting off to the girls¡¯ dormitory. Harry and I exchanged puzzled looks but didn¡¯t say anything. She was back in no time, clutching a hefty book.


    ¡°I picked this up for a bit of light reading,¡± she said while flipping frantically through its pages. ¡°Here¡ªlook at this.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just explain it in your own words?¡± I suggested lazily, shifting in my chair to get comfortable.


    Blah blah blah¡ªFlamel. Blah blah blah¡ªPhilosopher¡¯s Stone.


    Blah blah blah¡ªSnape. Villain extraordinaire. Potential thief, scoundrel, and all-around git, apparently in desperate need of gold, eternal youth, and immortality.


    ¡°I told you! I was right, and you were wrong, Ron!¡± Hermione¡¯s smug expression practically screamed as she glared at me in triumph. Meanwhile, Harry was scratching his head, looking thoroughly confused. Honestly, the pair of them. Absolute kids.


    The next morning, we legged it to Hagrid¡¯s, and the pieces finally fell into place.


    <hr>


    On the way to the pitch, it felt like the entire school had turned out. Even the usual no-shows for Quidditch were here.


    We grabbed seats in the stands with Neville. Dean and Seamus were a few rows below us.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget, Ron: Locomotor Mortis,¡± Hermione fussed, clearly on edge. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on Harry, and you keep an eye on Professor Snape.¡±


    ¡°Oh, relax already, Hermione,¡± I said, scanning the crowd. ¡°Look over there¡ªDumbledore¡¯s here. Snape won¡¯t try anything with him watching. He¡¯s not that daft.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant!¡± she exclaimed, visibly relaxing once she spotted Dumbledore.


    ¡°Oh, Weasley, sorry, didn¡¯t see you there,¡± Malfoy sneered as he jabbed me on the crown of my head with his elbow while squeezing past.


    ¡°Noted,¡± I replied just as snidely, rubbing my head. ¡°We¡¯ll let it slide¡ªfor the feeble-minded.¡±


    ¡°Think Potter¡¯s going to put on another show today?¡± Malfoy drawled as he settled in. ¡°He¡¯s brilliant at making himself look like a right prat. Anyone want to wager how long it¡¯ll take him to fall off his broom? I¡¯m giving three-to-one odds.¡±


    ¡°Fancy betting he catches the Snitch and your lot loses?¡± I shot back with a smirk.


    ¡°Bet with you?¡± Malfoy feigned shock. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had a Knut to spare. Better hold onto it¡ªyour whole family might need it to eat for a month this summer.¡±


    ¡°Cheers for the concern,¡± I said evenly, clamping my hand over Hermione¡¯s before she could jump in. ¡°Tell you what, I¡¯ll wager twenty Galleons that Harry catches the Snitch and you lot lose. Make it five-to-one odds he does it before the first goal.¡±


    ¡°Ron, have you gone mad?¡± Hermione hissed at me, but I was too fired up to care. Worst case, I¡¯d go back to Hogwarts in rags. Or borrow some cash off Harry.


    ¡°You¡¯re on,¡± Malfoy said immediately, clearly relishing his imagined victory. ¡°Crabbe, shake on it.¡±


    ¡°Everyone saw that, yeah?¡± I said loudly, glancing around. ¡°Just in case Draco¡¯s mummy tells him he¡¯s not allowed to pay up later.¡± I shot Malfoy a wicked grin before turning away.


    The match kicked off, and Snape started docking points from our team for every little thing. Meanwhile, Malfoy kept goading Neville, but I tuned him out. All my focus was on the game¡ªit was my finances on the line, after all.


    ¡°Come on, Harry!¡± I yelled with everyone else.


    ¡°Ron, look! Harry¡¯s seen something!¡± Hermione shouted excitedly, noticing Harry dive sharply.


    ¡°Looks like your Potter¡¯s spotted a Knut on the pitch,¡± Malfoy sneered, dragging out his words. ¡°Perfect¡ªhe can pay me back with it.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Harry!¡± we roared¡­ and then he raised his hand, the Snitch flapping between his fingers.


    ¡°You won, Ron,¡± Neville whispered in awe, before yelling, ¡°Gryffindor won! Ron won!¡±


    ¡°Move it, toad,¡± Malfoy snarled as he stormed off, but Neville, still buzzing on adrenaline, let out an unexpected growl and tackled him over the benches. Crabbe and Goyle were so stunned they barely started whacking Neville before the rest of us joined the fray.


    The brawl was glorious. By the time we all staggered to the hospital wing, we were practically carrying Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy trailed behind, looking miserable, and I kept giving him little prods to keep him moving.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget, Draco. That¡¯s a hundred Galleons,¡± I called over my shoulder with a big grin.


    ¡°Won¡¯t bankrupt me,¡± Malfoy sniffed.


    ¡°Good to hear,¡± I replied cheerfully. ¡°That¡¯ll keep my family fed for about three summers. Anyway, if you need an excuse, just call it charity work¡ªyour mum¡¯ll get it. Oh, and remember: honour debts need settling within ten days. Clock¡¯s ticking.¡±


    Whistling, I headed back to the Gryffindor common room, feeling as light as air. It was like liquid sunshine was flowing through my veins. Cheers to you, Marina, wherever you are. Hope you¡¯ve got a lover who¡¯ll pull the stars down for you.


    The Gryffindor common room was in full-on celebration mode¡ªcheering for both the Quidditch win and the brawl that followed. When I walked in, the place got even rowdier, especially Fred and George. Those sly fox grins of theirs¡­ they clearly already knew about my winnings. Not that I minded. I¡¯d only use a bit to buy Luna some fancy hair clips or Ginny a trinket, and the rest I¡¯d pool with the twins¡ªthey were sharp and lucky, after all.


    Everything was fine until Harry ruined the mood. He pulled us aside, looking all secretive, and launched into a dramatic account of tailing Snape.


    ¡°He was threatening Quirrell!¡± Harry said, voice brimming with excitement. ¡°Trying to get him to spill how to get past Fluffy. But Quirrell held his ground¡ªdidn¡¯t say a word. Snape warned him it wasn¡¯t over and that he¡¯d get answers eventually. They also talked about the other traps. Snape definitely knows about the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, just like we thought!¡± he concluded.


    ¡°So the Stone¡¯s safe as long as Professor Quirrell stays quiet?¡± Hermione pieced it together quickly.


    ¡°Looks that way,¡± Harry said, frowning thoughtfully.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to keep an eye on both of them,¡± Hermione decided firmly. ¡°But for now, let¡¯s get back to the party¡ªeveryone¡¯s waiting for you, Harry. By the way, we¡¯ve had the most¡­¡±


    While Harry had been sneaking around the third floor eavesdropping on Fluffy, Hermione and I had started prepping for exams. I couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit down, though¡ªit wasn¡¯t the done thing to go home during the Easter holidays. One bright spot: Malfoy paid his debt without even throwing it in my face. Still, Malfoy and Snape were behaving oddly. Always playing the villain, yet their vibes felt... normal. Like it was all an act or some status thing. Who could tell?


    Even though it was the holidays, we spent most of our time in the library for a change. Until¡­ we spotted a flustered-looking Hagrid.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡± Hermione perked up immediately. Harry, bored out of his mind with revision, jumped at the distraction.


    ¡°Dragons?¡± he asked loudly when Hermione came back to our table, drawing a glare from Madam Pince. ¡°Are you sure?¡± he added in a half-whisper.


    ¡°Shh,¡± Hermione hissed. ¡°Dragons,¡± she confirmed with a nod. ¡°He checked out ¡®Dragon Species of Britain and Ireland¡¯ and ¡®From Egg to Inferno: A Beginner¡¯s Guide to Dragon Keeping¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Blimey,¡± Harry breathed, wide-eyed. ¡°He¡¯s always said he wants a dragon¡­ We need to go see him. Now.¡±


    ¡°But he couldn¡¯t actually get a dragon, could he?¡± Hermione asked uncertainly. ¡°Where would he even get one?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point, Hermione,¡± I said after a pause. ¡°It¡¯s illegal. Breeding dragons was outlawed by the 1709 Warlocks¡¯ Convention. Minimum sentence is ten years in Azkaban.¡±


    ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Hermione went pale, then stood abruptly. ¡°Harry¡¯s right. We need to see him¡ªright now. Get your things.¡±


    An hour later, we were at Hagrid¡¯s.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he said, shuffling nervously and glancing around before shutting the door. The curtains were drawn tight, and there was a massive pile of wood by the hearth.


    Hermione started off light, asking about the other security measures for the Stone. Then, over tea, she dropped the question straight out.


    ¡°Hagrid, tell us the truth¡ªhave you got a dragon?¡±


    ¡°I figured you¡¯d find out,¡± Hagrid sighed heavily, looking utterly defeated. He confessed the whole thing.


    <hr>


    ¡°Hagrid, you¡¯ve got to get rid of the egg,¡± I said bluntly, slipping back into his hut about an hour after we left. The others didn¡¯t know I¡¯d come. ¡°You don¡¯t want to end up in Azkaban again, do you?¡±


    ¡°Erm¡­ Ron¡­ how d¡¯you know about that?¡± Hagrid mumbled, avoiding my gaze.


    ¡°Old newspaper archives,¡± I replied curtly. ¡°If they catch you, you won¡¯t see freedom for twenty years. I can write to my brother¡ªhe¡¯ll take the egg. But if it hatches, you¡¯re on your own. I¡¯m not risking my family. And don¡¯t heat it¡ªthat¡¯ll speed up the hatching. Cast a stasis charm on it. Decide now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Ron,¡± he sighed after a long silence, a tear rolling down his cheek. ¡°But I¡¯ve always wanted a dragon. It¡¯s a Norwegian Ridgeback, Ron,¡± he added wistfully, glancing at the little dragon figurine I¡¯d once given him. It stood proudly on his mantelpiece. ¡°Guess it¡¯s not meant to be¡­¡±


    ¡°Not all dreams are meant to come true,¡± I said philosophically, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. Then I sat down and scribbled a quick note. ¡°Send this yourself. Take care, Hagrid¡ªand cheer up. This won¡¯t be the last magical critter in your life.¡±

 Chapter 21

    Operation "Dragon" was set for the end of the week.


    Charlie had sent me a letter asking for details, then another one just before the operation.


    "You¡¯re right, Ron. Hagrid definitely needs help, and I¡¯ve sorted everything out," he wrote. "I can¡¯t leave the Reserve myself to collect the ¡®package,¡¯ but I¡¯ve sent a couple of reliable people to help. The key is to keep this under wraps, Ron. You understand how much trouble we¡¯d all be in if this gets out. I¡¯m counting on your discretion.


    "My people will arrive Saturday at midnight¡ªthey¡¯ll reach me by morning. You¡¯ll need to hand over the cargo from the Astronomy Tower. They can¡¯t dismount their brooms; any landing will trigger the castle¡¯s intruder wards. The ground perimeter¡¯s got extra security charms to keep outsiders away. These aren¡¯t locals, Ron, and I¡¯d hate to see them in trouble. If anything goes wrong, let me know straightaway. Love, Charlie."


    ¡°That¡¯s brilliant!¡± Hermione said with relief when I read the letter aloud as we headed to Hagrid¡¯s to cheer him up. ¡°I¡¯m so glad it¡¯s all sorted. Ron, you¡¯ve done brilliantly¡ªsuch a clever plan! Harry, why are you looking so thoughtful?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m just wondering how the three of us are going to lug that egg to the tower in the middle of the night,¡± Harry said earnestly. ¡°It¡¯s the size of a boulder¡ªand probably just as heavy.¡±


    Hermione and I froze, staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, even she seemed lost for words.


    ¡°Oi, what¡¯s with you two?¡± Harry asked, glancing back and noticing we¡¯d fallen behind.


    ¡°Harry,¡± I said, recovering, ¡°who said we¡¯re the ones carrying the egg?¡±


    ¡°Well, Hagrid¡¯s too big and obvious, isn¡¯t he? Someone¡¯s bound to stop him and ask what he¡¯s doing wandering the castle at night.¡±


    ¡°Harry, Hagrid probably feeds Fluffy at night,¡± Hermione pointed out quickly, clearly not thrilled with the idea of sneaking through the castle in blatant disregard of every school rule.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Harry conceded reluctantly, ¡°but Mrs. Norris could spot him and bring Filch running. Then he¡¯d never make it to the Astronomy Tower on time. And how¡¯s he supposed to explain what he¡¯s doing there?¡±


    ¡°Getting some fresh air, Harry,¡± I snapped, my patience fraying. ¡°That¡¯s not against the rules¡ªespecially not for staff. And Hagrid¡¯s a grown man; I¡¯m sure he can think of something to say.¡±


    ¡°Ron, what¡¯s got into you?¡± Harry asked, taken aback.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said coldly. ¡°You clearly don¡¯t get how serious this is. This isn¡¯t some game, Harry. My brother and his friends are risking their careers and their freedom. Smuggling¡¯s a serious crime, and if it¡¯s done as part of a group, the sentence is even worse. If they¡¯re caught, it¡¯ll tarnish my whole family¡¯s name¡ªand we¡¯ll get expelled on top of it.¡±


    ¡°I was just trying to help,¡± Harry muttered defensively.


    ¡°You¡¯ll help by keeping your mouth shut. You¡¯ve already been down to Hagrid¡¯s every day, whispering in corners like it¡¯s a secret club. Even Malfoy¡¯s suspicious by now.¡±


    ¡°Alright, we get it. Don¡¯t be cross, Ron,¡± Hermione said gently, trying to placate me. Harry, meanwhile, was sulking.


    Hagrid didn¡¯t exactly improve my mood. Honestly, it shocked and annoyed me that both he and Harry reacted the same way¡ªlike they couldn¡¯t figure out what to do on their own. Either Harry¡¯s gotten dense overnight, or Hagrid¡¯s not far off from being a big kid himself. The bloke¡¯s nearly seventy and still expects others to sort out his problems. Top-notch logic there.


    ¡°Er¡­ how am I supposed to get it up to the tower?¡± Hagrid said, scratching his head when I explained the plan. ¡°That blasted cat¡¯ll sniff me out in no time. And what¡¯ll I tell that stinking Filch?¡±


    ¡°Hagrid, how old are you? Sixty?¡± I said, irritation creeping in. ¡°We¡¯re twelve. You¡¯ll think of something. Worst case, shove Mrs. Norris off the tower¡ªand Filch after her. Either way, we¡¯ve handled the big problem. The rest¡¯s on you. Let¡¯s go, guys; we¡¯ve got homework.¡±


    ¡°I believe in you, Hagrid,¡± Hermione said brightly, giving him an encouraging smile before following me.


    ¡°Bye, Hagrid,¡± Harry muttered, throwing me a disgruntled look as he trailed after us.


    <hr>


    On the big night, I was nervous¡ªespecially after seeing Malfoy¡¯s smug, knowing expression earlier. Honestly, I didn¡¯t care about Hagrid or his dragon issues. I got involved because, well, it was in the book. And besides, I¡¯d rather handle things my way than let them spiral. But I¡¯d underestimated the sheer recklessness of my friends.


    We sat in the common room, waiting for the signal: a light in Hagrid¡¯s hut to show he¡¯d returned safely. I must¡¯ve dozed off over my book for about twenty minutes. When the clock struck midnight, I woke to find the others gone. Yawning, I headed up to the dormitory¡ªonly to realize Potter wasn¡¯t there.


    It all clicked instantly. Muttering curses, I bolted after them.


    In the corridor, I shut my eyes and visualized the ¡°Path¡± to the Astronomy Tower. The pull led me the opposite way from the stairs. Silently, I cast a charm for soundless footsteps and slipped into the secret passage.


    Two corridors and one dusty room later, I emerged from a niche at the base of the tower¡¯s staircase¡ªjust in time to see Professor McGonagall. She was in a tartan nightgown, a shawl over her shoulders, and dragging a protesting Malfoy behind her.


    ¡°You¡¯ll face disciplinary action, young man!¡± she declared sternly as they passed by. ¡°And twenty points from Slytherin! How dare you break school rules?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, Professor, Potter will be here soon,¡± Malfoy whined. Poor git didn¡¯t stand a chance; reasoning with McGonagall was a lost cause. ¡°Let¡¯s just wait a little, and you¡¯ll see I¡¯m right.¡±


    ¡°What utter nonsense!¡± she retorted sharply. ¡°How dare you make such accusations? I¡¯ll be having words with your Head of House about this appalling behavior. And for your cheek, that¡¯s another five points off, Mr. Malfoy!¡±


    I waited until McGonagall and Malfoy disappeared from view, then listened carefully. The "Path" tugged me to the right and down the stairs¡ªseemed like they hadn¡¯t gone all the way up to the tower. No noise, no fuss. Everything must¡¯ve gone to plan.


    With a relieved sigh, I slipped back into the shadows. Funny thing about Hogwarts at night¡ªits dimness or outright darkness usually feels proper creepy, but when you''re following the "Path," it¡¯s not like that at all. It¡¯s as if you¡¯re walking a glowing trail in the pitch black, perfectly safe, as long as you stay on it.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Silently descending the stairs, I froze and listened. The cloak could hide me, but it wouldn¡¯t muffle any noise. I¡¯d learned the silent step spell during the holidays from Charlie, and I was kicking myself for not teaching it to Harry and Hermione. Their clomping about wasn¡¯t exactly subtle.


    ¡°Ron?¡± came a startled whisper out of the gloom, followed by a more anxious, squeaky, ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Just fancied a stroll before bed,¡± I shot back, my sarcasm sharper than a Slytherin¡¯s tongue. Harry pulled off the cloak, revealing two guilty but annoyingly smug faces. ¡°What the bloody hell, Harry?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ we weren¡¯t going up to the tower,¡± Harry started quickly. ¡°We were just, er, planning to distract Filch in case he headed that way.¡± He gestured to the spot they¡¯d clearly been loitering in. ¡°Thought we¡¯d sit here and, um, chuck a dung bomb under the stairs if he came by. But, erm, he didn¡¯t show, so we¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut it!¡± I hissed, raising a hand for silence.


    ¡°Ah, my sweet,¡± came Filch¡¯s rasping voice from the shadows. ¡°There¡¯s two of ¡¯em hiding round here, eh? Let¡¯s sniff ¡¯em out, shall we? And when we¡¯re done, I¡¯ll get you some milk, won¡¯t I?¡±


    Harry looked about in panic, and Hermione seemed about ready to faint. No time to muck about.


    I shoved the bag of dung bombs into her hands, nicked the cloak from Harry, and flung it over Hermione.


    ¡°Back to the common room. Now,¡± I whispered urgently in her ear. Then, grabbing Harry by the arm, I bolted straight toward Filch.


    <hr>


    Poor McGonagall hadn¡¯t even managed to change for bed. She sat behind her desk in her tartan nightgown, a shawl draped over her shoulders, radiating fury as she glared at us like Nemesis herself.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you, Professor,¡± I repeated for what felt like the fifth time, ¡°we were looking for my rat. He hasn¡¯t come back for two days, and I was worried.¡±


    ¡°You could have searched during daylight, Mr. Weasley,¡± she said, lips pursed tight with disapproval. But I wasn¡¯t Hermione, so her looks of reproach didn¡¯t faze me. Harry sat silently beside me, sneaking wary glances my way.


    ¡®Just shut up and nod,¡¯ I¡¯d muttered to him earlier, before Filch had dragged us to McGonagall.


    ¡°I understand your concern, Mr. Weasley,¡± she finally conceded, though her tone suggested otherwise. ¡°But the rules are the same for everyone. I¡¯m docking fifty points each from Gryffindor. You¡¯ll both have detention later, but as it¡¯s late, that¡¯ll be sorted tomorrow. Now off to bed¡ªten minutes. And I am very disappointed in you both.¡±


    ¡®I¡¯ll live,¡¯ I thought but held my tongue, settling for a remorseful nod before we shuffled out.


    ¡°Ron¡­¡± Harry began hesitantly, touching my shoulder once we reached the staircase.


    ¡°Not now,¡± I muttered, shrugging him off and stalking ahead. Neither of us spoke a word all the way back to the tower.


    In the dim Gryffindor common room, Hermione was waiting for us, looking frazzled. She rushed over as soon as we stepped through the portrait hole.


    ¡°Oh, Ron, I¡¯m so sorry!¡± she sobbed into my shoulder ten minutes later while Harry and I exchanged weary looks over her head. ¡°This is all my fault! The house lost a hundred points, and you¡¯ll both get detention, and it¡¯s because of me!¡±


    ¡°There, there,¡± I muttered, patting her awkwardly and gently peeling her off me. Harry, ever the hero, handed her a handkerchief¡ªthough why she never seemed to have one of her own was beyond me. ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse. We could¡¯ve lost another fifty, plus forty for the dung bombs, and had a month of Filch¡¯s detentions. Now, off to bed¡ªyou remember Snape¡¯s test tomorrow, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Ron,¡± she said with a timid smile before heading upstairs, still sniffling.


    ¡°Ron, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Harry said, voice low. He looked genuinely upset for once. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have started all this.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Harry, just figure out what we are to each other. If we¡¯re friends, then you can¡¯t treat me like this. But if we¡¯re just mates, like Dean or Seamus, then stop dragging me into your schemes. I¡¯d risk a lot for a friend¡ªfamily, even¡ªbut I won¡¯t stick my neck out for a casual mate.¡±


    Harry was unusually serious when he responded, offering his hand. ¡°Friends, Ron. I swear it won¡¯t happen again. Trust me.¡±


    ¡®It will, you daft sod¡¯ I thought, shaking his hand and feeling oddly relieved. These two had worn me down so much tonight that I was just grateful the whole dragon egg fiasco was behind us. ¡®Good thing the dragon didn¡¯t hatch. Merlin knows how bad that would¡¯ve been.¡¯


    Under the hot shower, I reflected on what I¡¯d told McGonagall¡ªhow it hadn¡¯t been a complete lie. The castle did have other creatures besides regular rats. The caretaker before Filch had kept a panther, and loads of magical pets roamed about at night. Magical animals absorbed traces of their owner¡¯s magic, making them untouchable to other predators. It only took a bit of daily contact¡ªstroking, holding, or feeding them.


    I¡¯d kept Scabbers caged until this summer, but Percy had started letting him out. Now the rat came back during the day for food and a nap, then wandered off at night.


    As for the lost points, people grumbled for a bit, but it wasn¡¯t so bad. Hermione went into overdrive, earning points like a dog fetching sticks. Even Harry buried himself in his books, chipping in. We¡¯d clawed back what we¡¯d lost in no time, though we could¡¯ve been miles ahead if it weren¡¯t for the incident.


    Oh well. All that mattered was the egg business was done with. Or so I thought¡ªuntil Harry overheard Quirrell sobbing behind a door and agreeing to something.


    "Looks like he finally cracked, and now Snape knows the truth," Harry concluded, his voice grim. But even this news didn¡¯t faze Hermione¡ªexams were only a week away, and at this point, nothing else seemed to exist for her.


    Later that evening, we received a note from McGonagall. It informed us that at 11 PM sharp, we were to meet Filch at the main entrance for detention.


    "Serves you right for breaking the rules," Filch muttered nastily as he led us¡ªand, to my surprise, Malfoy¡ªtoward the castle doors. "Shame I can¡¯t still whip you little miscreants."


    "That you, Filch? Hurry it up, we¡¯ve got work to do," came Hagrid¡¯s booming voice from outside. He looked formidable, armed with a crossbow, a quiver slung across his back, and Fang pressed close to his side.


    "I¡¯ll be back by dawn to pick up what¡¯s left of them," Filch sneered, shooting us a malicious grin before sauntering off, whistling a jaunty tune.


    "Are we going into the Forbidden Forest?" Malfoy stammered, recoiling a step or two. "I refuse!"


    "You¡¯ll go, and you¡¯ll like it," Hagrid said sharply, gripping the crossbow as we began our march toward the edge of the forest. "Something¡¯s been killing unicorns. We need to find out what."


    We were nearing his hut when Hagrid continued in that offhand way of his, "You alright there, Ron?"


    "Sorry, Hagrid, but I think you can handle this one on your own," I said, trying to sound firm.


    "Eh? What¡¯re you on about?" Hagrid stopped and turned to gawk at me, clearly baffled.


    "I¡¯m saying mates help each other out, don¡¯t they?" I replied, crossing my arms. "And it¡¯s not exactly mate-like to make us serve detention for bailing you out of trouble. So, we¡¯ll wait for you in your hut while you sort out the unicorn business. Seems fair, doesn¡¯t it?"


    "But, Ron¡ª" Hagrid began, looking genuinely flummoxed.


    "We can come with you, Hagrid, but if we do, I reckon this ¡®friendship¡¯ thing is done for," I cut him off bluntly.


    The silence dragged on, broken only by Fang¡¯s soft whimper. Finally, Hagrid sighed, looking utterly defeated. "Alright, fine," he muttered. Then he turned to Malfoy with a dark scowl. "You, though¡ªyou¡¯re comin¡¯ with me."


    Malfoy shot me a desperate look that nearly made me groan aloud.


    "Hagrid," I started reluctantly, "he can¡¯t go either. He knows about the egg and swore he¡¯d tell the Board of Governors everything. But right now, he¡¯s going to swear on the honour of the Malfoy name that he won¡¯t breathe a word. Aren¡¯t you, Malfoy?"


    "Absolutely," Malfoy blurted, his tone eager. "I swear. On my family¡¯s honour. Just leave me here with them."


    "Fine," Hagrid said, now looking downright dejected. "Just light the fire in the hearth and have some tea, then." With that, he trudged into the forest, his massive shoulders slumped.


    "Ron, I¡¯m sorry, but I think I¡¯ll go with Hagrid," Harry said suddenly, his voice tinged with determination. "It won¡¯t be so bad if I¡¯m with him."


    "Stick close to him, Harry. Don¡¯t stray, not even a step," I called after him.


    "Got it!" Harry shouted, already jogging to catch up with the giant.


    Malfoy, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot.


    "What are you standing there for? Get inside," I said, jerking my head toward the door as I opened it.

 Chapter 22

    Hagrid¡¯s hut was surprisingly cozy¡ªembers in the hearth were still glowing faintly. I tossed in a couple of logs and a resin-coated firelighter, then gave it a few puffs with the bellows lying nearby. Soon enough, the flames sprang to life, crackling merrily.


    "Seriously, Weasley, why all the effort?" Malfoy sneered from the doorway. "You a wizard or a Muggle? Could¡¯ve just used magic." Clearly, the prat had gotten over his earlier fright and was back to his usual snide self, probably hoping I¡¯d forget the part where he¡¯d been terrified.


    "This isn¡¯t my house, Malfoy," I said evenly, shifting the kettle on its hook closer to the flames. "If Hagrid prefers doing things this way, who am I to tell him otherwise? And, for your information, you don¡¯t light proper logs with magical fire¡ªit burns through too fast. And magical fire doesn¡¯t even need logs, does it?"


    "Fascinating, Weasley," Malfoy muttered, wrapping his robes tighter around himself as he leaned against the doorframe. His gaze flicked around the hut, taking in the clutter. "So, what? Planning to replace that oaf as gamekeeper someday? Although, knowing you, you¡¯d probably enjoy the job. And this shack¡¯s probably a step up from the hovel your family crams into."


    "Malfoy," I replied, still calm, though my tone sharpened slightly, "you clearly haven¡¯t grasped how deep in the muck you are. Insulting the bloke who just saved you from a stroll through the Forbidden Forest? Not smart. Keep pushing, and I¡¯ll shoot red sparks into the air. Hagrid will come back, and you can have that lovely walk after all."


    "You wouldn¡¯t dare," he said, his voice shaky as he turned pale. "If you do, I¡¯ll tell everyone about the egg."


    "What¡¯s there to tell if you don¡¯t actually know anything?" I smirked, setting out mugs and giving them a quick wipe to make sure they were clean. "Now, I¡¯m waiting¡ªfor an apology and some basic manners."


    "Malfoys don¡¯t apologize. Or give thanks," he said stiffly, which would¡¯ve sounded grand if it weren¡¯t for his wide, fear-filled eyes and the white-knuckled grip he had on the doorframe.


    "In that case," I said with a grin, yanking the door open, "I think you¡¯d better continue that noble tradition outside. Care to step out on your own, or shall I give you a hand, your highness?"


    Malfoy glanced at the dark forest beyond the doorway, swallowed hard, and clung tighter to the doorframe. Somewhere out in the trees, a mournful howl echoed, and a bird flapped noisily overhead.


    "Close it! Close it, you idiot!" he hissed, darting toward me and grabbing my sleeve in a panic. The second I shut the door, he let go, scowling furiously.


    "Let¡¯s call it a truce, Malfoy," I said as I calmly returned to setting the table. "Sit down and have a bite."


    He cast another disgusted look around the hut, his gaze lingering on the pheasant carcasses hanging from the beams, before perching gingerly on the very edge of a stool.


    "What¡¯s that?" he asked, wide-eyed, pointing at the pickled apples I was eating. "You eat that rot?"


    "Pickled apples, you git," I laughed. "And they¡¯re delicious. Probably the only decent food in this place besides the honey. Go on, try one."


    Malfoy hesitantly poked one with his finger, licked the juice cautiously, then bit into it. A moment later, he was onto his third, sipping tea in between bites.


    "Not bad," he admitted grudgingly.


    "So, Draco," I began casually, "how¡¯d you know Potter was going to be on the tower that night? Were you spying?"


    "Hardly," he sniffed. "I overheard Granger in the library. She talks too loud."


    "In the library, eh?" I teased. "I¡¯ll have to remind her to keep it down before Madam Pince throws her out. But what about you? Why didn¡¯t you go straight to a professor or set Filch on him like usual?"


    "And what if I didn¡¯t want to?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing. "I wanted to catch Potter myself, alright? Get him expelled. I¡¯ve got a broom too, but am I allowed? No. And he just flies about whenever he pleases."


    "Not a great plan," I said seriously, setting my mug down. "You do realize they¡¯ll never expel Potter, don¡¯t you? He could blow up the Astronomy Tower, and they¡¯d still let him stay. He¡¯s the national hero and all that¡ªa tragic orphan with famous parents. Tonight, you know what would¡¯ve happened? We¡¯d have gone into the forest, but not all together. Too much noise. Hagrid would¡¯ve split us up. Kept Potter with him, of course, because someone¡¯s got to babysit the hero. You and me? We¡¯d get Fang, who¡¯s about as useful as a chocolate cauldron when it comes to danger."


    "No way," Malfoy whispered, his face pale again.


    "Way," I said, nodding grimly. "I¡¯ve known Hagrid for years. And I¡¯ve learned that sticking close to Harry is dangerous. If things go south, they¡¯ll save him first, not me, and definitely not you. You¡¯re special to your lot, sure, but the Weasleys have enough kids that one less wouldn¡¯t matter much."


    "And you¡¯re still friends with him?" Malfoy asked, genuinely surprised.


    "Why not?" I shrugged. "Harry¡¯s a decent bloke. I don¡¯t meddle in his adventures¡ªlike tonight, as you saw. But here¡¯s the thing, Draco," I said, my tone turning serious. "Stop tailing him. Got it? If you don¡¯t want to get hurt, leave him alone. Play it smart. Be a Slytherin. You¡¯re acting more like a Gryffindor, and that¡¯s just embarrassing. Sometimes, I think you and Harry are two sides of the same coin."


    "Not likely," Malfoy muttered, rolling a rock-hard scone across the table and avoiding my gaze.


    For a while, we sat in silence, sipping our tea. In the dim light, the hut felt almost like something out of a fairy tale.


    "Weasley," Malfoy broke the quiet, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him, "what¡¯s the story with the egg?"


    "Ah, nothing special," I said with a smirk. "Hagrid got sloshed and gambled away nearly all his wages. The man he was playing with let him win one round to keep him from causing a scene. He thought he¡¯d won a dragon¡¯s egg and brought it home, all proud. Kept it in the fire for a week before he realized."


    "And the egg?" Malfoy asked, his voice a mix of horror and fascination.


    "Not an egg," I chuckled. "Just a rock shaped like one. I¡¯ve seen real ones at my brother¡¯s dragon reserve¡ªno comparison. Honestly, who¡¯d give Hagrid a real dragon egg?"


    "Well? What happened next?" Draco pressed impatiently.


    "Nothing much," I shrugged. "We started feeling sorry for him, you know? The bloke¡¯s stubborn enough to keep warming that stone until it cracked, and then he¡¯d be heartbroken. Probably end up drowning his sorrows. So, we convinced him to let it go, told him it was risky business keeping it. Claimed we¡¯d send the ''egg'' to a sanctuary through some ¡®connections¡¯ we had. Said it needed to be taken to the Astronomy Tower at night for the handoff.¡±


    "And? Did you take it?" Draco nearly bounced on his stool, completely forgetting about the dust.


    "You kidding? What do you take me for?" I burst out laughing. "We never went near the tower. Just lobbed the stone into some bushes as soon as we were far enough from Hagrid¡¯s hut. End of story."


    We both cracked up and ended up chatting for ages, just shooting the breeze, until the distant sound of voices and movement reached us.


    Draco shot me a panicked glance before quickly reverting to his usual haughty expression. I smirked knowingly and gave him a nod.


    "Just so you know, Weasley," he drawled through gritted teeth, "we¡¯re not friends."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "Of course not," I drawled back, flashing him a conspiratorial wink. "And we¡¯re not enemies, either. But don¡¯t think for a second, Drakey, that I¡¯ll let your insults slide. Playtime¡¯s over, mate¡ªI¡¯ll give as good as I get from now on."


    Draco sniffed disdainfully, clearly gearing up for some cutting reply, but before he could get it out, the hut door banged open, and Hagrid stomped in with Harry right behind him. Harry looked all flustered, practically bursting with something he couldn¡¯t say in front of Draco.


    "How¡¯ve you lot been?" Hagrid asked, his gaze bouncing between us.


    "Awful," I declared with exaggerated disdain, ignoring Draco¡¯s furious glare. "Should¡¯ve gone with you. This one wouldn¡¯t stop whinging¡ªnearly came to blows."


    "Right then, up you get," Hagrid grunted, grabbing his crossbow and heading for the door. "I¡¯ll walk yeh back. Got ter see Dumbledore sharpish."


    "Ron, are you sure he won¡¯t spill about the egg?" Harry whispered as we trailed after Hagrid¡¯s massive strides. "I mean, really sure?"


    "Nah," I replied, flicking a glance at Draco trailing behind us. "He¡¯s promised to keep quiet. Besides, it¡¯s not in his best interest to blab, Harry. This way, he gets to brag about spending detention in the Forbidden Forest at night and seeing a werewolf. If he rats us out, I¡¯ll spread the word that he begged me to save him from going into the forest and then clung to my arm like a scared toddler because he was afraid of the dark."


    "Weasley!" Draco hissed furiously, his voice low but full of venom.


    I turned back and gave him a cheeky wink. Hopefully, he got the message and would keep his mouth shut.


    "You," Hagrid barked at Draco as soon as we reached the castle, "off ter the dungeons. You two, follow me." He left us at the staircase, veering off to the left.


    "Ron, keep an eye on Harry," he muttered as he went. I nodded, and he added, "Make sure you head straight to bed, no sneakin¡¯ about. Harry¡¯ll fill yeh in."


    But Harry didn¡¯t say a word as we climbed the stairs. Once we reached the common room, he suddenly grabbed my arm, and we hurried inside.


    Hermione was fast asleep by the cold fireplace, clearly waiting for us and dozing off unnoticed. Harry gently shook her shoulder, and she jerked awake, blinking.


    "You¡¯re back," she breathed, clearly relieved, before narrowing her eyes at us. "What time is it? And where¡¯ve you been?"


    "Three o¡¯clock," Harry answered. "We were in the Forbidden Forest¡ªwell, I was with Hagrid. Ron stayed back in the hut with Malfoy."


    "Malfoy?" she asked, frowning. "What was he doing there?"


    "He followed you two," I replied, "and McGonagall caught him. You lot were too loud in the library. He overheard and put two and two together."


    "Forget Malfoy," Harry cut in impatiently. "I saw Voldemort. He¡¯s the one drinking unicorn blood."


    "What?" Hermione gasped, going pale. "Harry, that¡¯s impossible. He¡¯s dead!"


    "Hagrid says he¡¯s not dead, just¡­ gone. And he could come back," Harry argued, his voice firm. "And Firenze¡ªthe centaur we met¡ªbasically confirmed it. It¡¯s him."


    "Confirmed how, exactly?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Well, not directly," Harry admitted, looking briefly sheepish before his resolve hardened. "But he said enough. He mentioned the Philosopher¡¯s Stone and how it grants immortality. Snape¡¯s after it for Voldemort¡ªthat much is clear."


    "But how did you even see him, Harry?" Hermione¡¯s voice trembled. Facing down a greedy Potions Master was one thing¡ªVoldemort was entirely another. "What did he look like?"


    "I don¡¯t know," Harry admitted, deflating a little. "He had a hood on. By the time we got to the clearing, he¡¯d already killed the unicorn and was drinking its blood. Hagrid shot an arrow at him, but he just vanished, like black smoke. My scar hurt so bad I couldn¡¯t see straight. Then the centaurs showed up, and Hagrid started grilling them, but they mostly talked about Mars and all sorts of cryptic stuff. On the way back, we found another unicorn, still alive, but badly injured. Hagrid tried to save it, but¡ª"


    "But what?" Hermione pressed, her voice tight.


    "He couldn¡¯t," Harry said softly, shaking his head. "The injury was too serious. He put it out of its misery while I¡­ looked away."


    "But he can¡¯t get in here, right?" Hermione asked anxiously, her voice rising. "Not with Dumbledore in the castle¡­?"


    "Enough," I cut in, seeing she was on the brink of panic. "We¡¯ll talk about this tomorrow. I¡¯m knackered."


    We kept going over it for what felt like hours. Harry was insistent: Voldemort was near. His scar was acting up, and it terrified Hermione. At one point, Harry and I nearly came to blows trying to calm him down. Safe to say, it wasn¡¯t exactly a peaceful night.


    After that, he calmed down a bit and stopped making the already tense atmosphere worse¡ªexams had begun.


    Surprisingly, I did all right on mine, though I mucked up a bit on History of Magic and got a bit flustered during the Transfiguration test. Conversations about the Stone continued, but I mostly kept my mouth shut, even as Harry and Hermione were deep into it, darting off to Hagrid¡¯s or the third floor to check on Fluffy. Harry knew I wasn¡¯t buying into it, so he left me alone. Shame, though¡ªI couldn¡¯t get it through their thick skulls that Snape wasn¡¯t involved.


    Then, one day, they cornered me, both of them buzzing with excitement. I was just heading out from the library for a stroll.


    Harry, I¡¯ll give him this, was sharp enough when Hermione was around to nudge him in the right direction. They¡¯d badgered Hagrid and pieced things together.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to go to Dumbledore now,¡± Hermione declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Harry looked like he¡¯d rather handle it himself with a wand and some bravado, but after a few half-hearted objections, he begrudgingly agreed she was right.


    ¡°Does anyone know where his office is?¡± Hermione asked, clearly frazzled.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find out on the way,¡± I said, hoping we could get this over with quickly. Luckily¡ªor unluckily¡ªwe didn¡¯t get far before we ran into McGonagall, levitating a stack of scrolls and books in front of her.


    ¡°And what are you three doing inside the castle?¡± she asked sternly, in that way of hers that makes it sound like simply existing is against the rules.


    ¡°We need to see the Headmaster, ma¡¯am,¡± Hermione said bravely. ¡°Could you tell us where his office is?¡±


    ¡°The Headmaster is not in the castle,¡± McGonagall replied crisply. ¡°He left half an hour ago on Ministry business and won¡¯t return until tomorrow.¡± She turned to walk away.


    ¡°Oh, no, Professor, wait!¡± Harry burst out, blocking her path. ¡°It¡¯s about the Philosopher¡¯s Stone. Someone¡¯s going to try to steal it tonight.¡±


    McGonagall gasped, scattering her scrolls everywhere. Then, she fixed us with the kind of glare that makes you feel about two inches tall. What followed was a tirade so scathing I could barely process it. The only bit that stuck was her firm insistence that the Stone was perfectly safe, guarded by protections beyond our comprehension, and we were not to meddle.


    We walked away in silence. Harry and Hermione looked thoroughly disheartened, clearly unsure of what to do next.


    ¡°Snape¡¯s definitely going to try for it tonight,¡± Harry finally muttered. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he orchestrated Dumbledore¡¯s absence himself¡ªsent him off to the Ministry when there¡¯s nothing waiting for him there.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I snorted. ¡°Because the Ministry¡¯s on the North Pole, and it takes a whole day to get there. Honestly, Harry, you¡¯ve got to stop with this Snape nonsense. It¡¯s not him.¡±


    ¡°Well, well,¡± a familiar voice drawled behind us. ¡°And what mischief is this little trio plotting now?¡±


    We turned slowly to find Snape looming over us, his black eyes glittering with suspicion. For a moment, it looked like he might actually be amused by the panicked expressions on Harry and Hermione¡¯s faces. Me? I was trying not to laugh at the irony of it all.


    ¡°You look guilty enough to be up to no good,¡± Snape said, his voice like silk dipped in venom. ¡°One more midnight escapade, and I¡¯ll personally see you sent home, Mr. Potter.¡±


    Harry, predictably, didn¡¯t take the hint to keep his head down. Instead, he squared his shoulders and glared at Snape like he wanted to hex him on the spot.


    Snape sneered and turned to leave.


    ¡°Wait, sir,¡± I blurted, ignoring the horrified stares from my friends.


    Snape stopped and arched an eyebrow at me, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and disdain.


    ¡°The Headmaster¡¯s out, sir,¡± I began, forcing myself to keep calm under his piercing gaze. ¡°We¡¯ve reason to believe someone will attempt to steal the Philosopher¡¯s Stone tonight.¡±


    ¡°And who, pray tell, would dare such a thing, Mr. Weasley?¡± Snape asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s Professor Quirrell, sir,¡± I said plainly. ¡°Could you keep an eye on him? Just to be safe.¡±


    Snape stared at me for a moment, and for the briefest second, I thought I saw surprise flash across his face.


    ¡°I am not in the habit of monitoring my colleagues to appease students,¡± he said finally, his tone cold. ¡°However, I shall look into it. Wait for me by the Potions classroom. I¡¯ll join you in half an hour.¡± He glanced at Harry and Hermione. ¡°You two are dismissed.¡± Then, with a dramatic swirl of his robes, he strode away.


    Behind me, silence. When I turned, Harry¡¯s face was a mask of fury, and Hermione looked as if she¡¯d been betrayed by her own shadow.


    ¡°Traitor,¡± Harry spat, his fists clenched. ¡°Now Snape¡¯ll hand the Stone over to Voldemort, and he¡¯ll become immortal!¡±


    ¡°Ron,¡± Hermione whispered, her voice trembling with hurt, ¡°how could you? And to accuse Professor Quirrell like that¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m done trying to prove anything to you two,¡± I snapped. ¡°Time will tell who¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Coward,¡± Harry hissed, before storming off. Hermione hesitated, glancing between us, then ran after him.


    ¡°Stop,¡± I called, grabbing her arm. ¡°Hermione, please, just drop this. Snape warned you about sneaking out at night¡ªyou¡¯ll get expelled.¡±


    But she shook me off, determination blazing in her eyes, and followed Harry into the corridor.


    ¡°Harry! Wait!¡± I heard her voice echo, and then they were gone, leaving me alone.

 Chapter 23

    I didn¡¯t have to wait long, just about ten minutes¡ªenough time to mull everything over properly. So, that¡¯s the end of my brief friendship with Potter. Well, fine then. No use dwelling on it. I was only worried about Hermione with her over-the-top sense of responsibility. She¡¯d definitely follow Harry into whatever mess he dragged her into. Maybe someone would save him, but her? Not so sure¡­


    "Come in," Snape¡¯s clipped voice broke my thoughts. He¡¯d appeared out of nowhere, gesturing for me to step into his office. He shut the door behind us and motioned to a chair, seating himself opposite. "Speak."


    I gave him a brief rundown of our suspicions while he stared at me in silence. His expression was calm, but the overly stiff posture gave away his tension.


    "Your friends, I assume, don¡¯t share your view on who the villain is, Mr. Weasley?" he asked with an obvious sneer, the corners of his mouth curling unpleasantly, clearly referring to himself.


    "They think it¡¯s you, sir," I admitted with a nod.


    "And why, pray tell, have you settled on Mr. Quirrell?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow.


    "Because, sir, apart from you two, there aren¡¯t any other candidates in the school," I said with a shrug, and Snape looked genuinely taken aback for a moment, not even bothering to hide it.


    "Explain," he demanded.


    "It¡¯s simple, sir. I think of Professor Dumbledore as a Great Wizard, which means he¡¯s got the experience to hire the right people. You, along with the rest of the staff, have been here for ages. The Headmaster¡¯s had more than enough time to figure out if you were dodgy or to decide he could trust you. But Mr. Quirrell¡¯s only been here a short while. Given that the overheard conversation was between you and him, the choice seems obvious to me."


    "But your friends, evidently, have a different opinion," Snape observed, relaxing slightly and sinking into his chair with a more comfortable posture.


    "Well, sir, you¡¯re not exactly the easiest person to get along with," I replied honestly, under his amused gaze. "Your appearance and attitude don¡¯t help much¡ªyou¡¯re practically playing the part of a villain. But I¡¯ve met plenty of adults, and I¡¯ve learned to tell natural nastiness from an act. I just see it as part of your personality, sir. It doesn¡¯t bother me enough to judge you unfairly."


    "And you¡¯re not afraid of me?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward with a hint of menace in his voice.


    "No," I answered truthfully. "If you were truly a villain and wanted me dead, you¡¯d have done it ages ago. What can you even do to me now, sir? Put me in detention? Shout at me? With all due respect, sir, I¡¯m not afraid of cauldrons or a telling-off."


    "Why did you come to me, Mr. Weasley?" he asked after a thoughtful pause, as if unsure how to take my words. "You¡¯ve got a Head of House, after all."


    "We did speak to her, sir. Professor McGonagall¡¯s a brilliant teacher, but she¡¯s a bit too much of a Gryffindor to hear anyone out unless it¡¯s her own idea," I admitted, and for a split second, I thought I saw the corner of Snape¡¯s mouth twitch in a tiny smile.


    "Very well," he said, standing. "I¡¯ve already taken some precautions. Now, return to your common room and, if possible, keep an eye on Potter and Miss Granger. I can¡¯t be everywhere at once." He stopped me with a quiet call as I turned to leave. "And Weasley¡ª"


    "Yes, sir?"


    "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your improper assessment of a teacher and your insolence."


    I grinned broadly, nodded, and headed off to the tower. My chest felt lighter. Let him dock all the points he wants, so long as he keeps Potter safe.


    In the common room, I found Hermione waiting. Judging by how quickly she came over, she¡¯d been looking for me.


    "Where¡¯s Potter?" I asked, glancing around.


    "None of your business," she snapped, dragging me over to the window, away from the others. "How could you, Ron?" Her face twisted briefly, like she was holding back tears, but then she fixed me with a stern look, so much like McGonagall¡¯s.


    "What else could I have done, Hermione?" I asked, smirking. "I¡¯ve been telling you two all year that you were wrong, giving you reasons and evidence. You even agreed with me at times, remember? But then you¡¯d turn right back around and side with Harry. I couldn¡¯t just wait any longer, Hermione. We need a strong, grown-up ally, or Potter¡¯s going to drag us into another mess."


    "But you didn¡¯t even discuss it with us," she countered. "And now the Stone¡¯s in danger. We wanted to warn Professor Quirrell, but McGonagall threw us out of the staff room before we could even speak to him and threatened to dock points. Now Harry¡¯s gone off to keep watch on Fluffy. This is your fault," she rambled, and I broke into a sweat, panicking at the thought that they might¡¯ve run straight into Quirrell¡¯s trap.


    "Hermione, if Snape¡¯s such a villain, why didn¡¯t he kill us outright or hex us into submission? Why bother talking to me instead of running off to nick the bloody Stone? Do you really think you could take on a grown wizard with your Wingardium Leviosa and a few sparks if he meant us harm?"


    "I don¡¯t know anything anymore, Ron," Hermione said miserably. "I don¡¯t know who to believe. When I listen to you, I think you¡¯re right. When I listen to Harry, I think you¡¯re wrong. But what you did¡ªgoing behind our backs¡ªwas low, no matter if Snape¡¯s guilty or not."


    "You don¡¯t understand my reasons, Hermione," I said with a bitter laugh. "It¡¯s just bloke stuff, that¡¯s all. I couldn¡¯t let it go on. Potter and I might be mates, but he doesn¡¯t see me as his equal. He never listens to me, always brushes off my opinion. I¡¯m not going to trail after him like a stray. Potter wants to play the hero? Fine. But I¡¯m not going to be one of his lackeys."


    "Ron¡ª" Hermione started, uncertain.


    "What, Hermione?" I cut her off. "We¡¯re friends, but he¡¯s got to decide¡ªeither he sees me as a real friend, or he sorts out his problems on his own. And don¡¯t forget, Hermione, we don¡¯t have Potter¡¯s luck. If something goes wrong, we¡¯re the ones who¡¯ll cop it first. Got it?"


    "Got it. You¡¯re just a coward, Ronald Weasley," Hermione snapped, her voice rising. "Harry was right about you."


    The door slammed open, and in burst Harry, out of breath. Hermione immediately rushed over to him, and they started whispering furiously, throwing me these nasty, accusatory looks.


    Meanwhile, night was falling. Our housemates came back to the common room, making it lively and cheerful again. Only for the three of us¡ªex-best mates¡ªit felt like there were claws raking at our insides.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I kept my eyes on Potter, pretending to chat cheerfully with Dean and Seamus. Meanwhile, my "former friends" just sat there, talking quietly.


    Finally, it was fully dark, and everyone headed off to bed. Harry was the first to leave. I wanted to crash too, but I couldn¡¯t risk it¡ªnot with Potter¡¯s cloak in his possession. They could slip away at any moment. So, when Percy called me into his room, I had to ask Neville, who was writing a letter to his gran, to keep an eye on the common room entrance while I was gone.


    Percy wanted to lecture me about my winnings. I hadn¡¯t handed it over to the twins yet but planned to. He¡¯d only just found out and was trying to talk me out of it. I shut him down pretty quickly.


    Funny how much can go wrong in just ten minutes...


    When I came back, I found Neville sprawled face-first on the carpet, completely petrified.


    ¡°It was Hermione,¡± he croaked when I undid the spell. ¡°She hexed me when I wouldn¡¯t let them through and said I¡¯d call a teacher. I¡¯m sorry, Ron¡ªI couldn¡¯t stop them.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Nev. You did great,¡± I said, racking my brain for what to do next. ¡°Go find Percy and get him to fetch the teachers. Tell them those knobs are headed to the third-floor corridor¡ªto the forbidden door.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± Neville asked, still shaken.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to cut them off. They might not have reached it yet,¡± I replied, sprinting for the exit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Neville nod determinedly and stagger toward the dorms.


    Once outside, I let instinct take over, following the path that would lead me to Snape¡ªor so I hoped. Downstairs, into a nook, then back upstairs¡ªI didn¡¯t even think about the route, just ran. Suddenly, I realized I was standing in a dark puddle. At my feet lay Snape, deathly pale and barely breathing.


    It took me a moment to register that the puddle was his blood.


    Hands shaking, I pulled out my wand and cast Sanentur, the only healing spell I knew. The wounds on his chest and arms started to close, though not completely. At least there was less blood now, and his breathing, though ragged, evened out a little.


    I finally let out a breath, glanced around, and realized I knew where I was¡ªthe third-floor corridor. The one we¡¯d been to before, back when we were still friends. Snape must¡¯ve been guarding Quirrell but got ambushed or caught in a trap himself. Either way, I didn¡¯t have time to think about it.


    I bolted for the exit and found myself on the landing.


    ¡°Sir Nicholas!¡± I shouted, gripping the railing. ¡°Anyone! Please, someone come here!¡±


    Silence. Just the dim corridor, apparently off-limits to students.


    ¡°What¡¯s all the racket, young man?¡± The Fat Friar floated through the wall, and I could¡¯ve kissed him, except there wasn¡¯t time for that.


    ¡°Sir!¡± I blurted out before he could start scolding or vanish. ¡°I found Professor Snape! He¡¯s in this corridor, badly hurt¡ªhe¡¯s lost a lot of blood. Please, get someone here! And tell the other teachers that Potter¡¯s gone after the Stone¡ªthey¡¯ll understand. Just hurry, please!¡±


    The ghost floated through me, chilling me to the bone, clearly skeptical. Then came a sorrowful cry from the corridor, and he shot through the wall with surprising speed.


    I checked on Snape, who was still breathing, hit his wounds with another spell for good measure, and looked around more carefully. Blood drops trailed toward the trapdoor. I followed, finding Fluffy, the three-headed dog, snoozing to the sound of the enchanted harp.


    Time was ticking. The harp kept playing, no help had arrived, and I couldn¡¯t stop imagining my friends¡ªhowever stupid they¡¯d been¡ªlying in their own blood, like Snape.


    ¡°To hell with it,¡± I muttered and jumped into the dark shaft, praying someone would come soon.


    Devil¡¯s Snare was an easy obstacle, even for a young wizard. A quick Incendio, and it was done.


    In the key room, nobody was left. The next door was already open, and fresh bloodstains marked the floor. I hurried through, only to freeze in horror.


    Five metres ahead, the chessboard began. Towering, faceless chess pieces stood, armed with what looked like real weapons. But the worst part? At the far end of the board, atop a pile of shattered black pieces, lay Hermione. Her dusty hair hung limp, her face rested against the hilt of a sabre, and her right leg was twisted at a grotesque angle. She wasn¡¯t moving.


    ¡°Ron!¡± Harry¡¯s voice broke through, somewhere to my right. A mix of relief and terror. ¡°Ron! I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re here. What do we do?¡±


    I scanned the room, noting more blood on the chessboard than before, and fixed my eyes on Harry. He looked completely lost, like he might cry, frozen in place.


    ¡°Ron, I thought I could play through it on my own, but Hermione¡­ she got hurt.¡±


    ¡°Shut it, you bellend,¡± I snapped, darting along the edge of the board. But the nearest piece blocked my way, crossing its swords.


    I realized I¡¯d have to play the game to reach Hermione and help her. ¡®Where¡¯s McGonagall when you need her?¡¯ I thought grimly.


    ¡°You!¡± I barked at the knight. ¡°Get up!.¡± The rider dismounted and bowed, offering his place. Climbing onto the horse¡¯s back wasn¡¯t easy, but I managed.


    ¡°Potter, I swear, if we survive this, I¡¯m breaking your nose.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you want,¡± Harry pleaded from the sidelines. ¡°Just help.¡±


    The game only took about seven minutes¡ªit was clearly designed for kids. No idea how else to explain my win. Most of the pieces were gone already, but still, it was disturbingly easy. Too easy. But there wasn¡¯t time to dwell on that.


    The game snagged at the very end when, just like Ron in the book, I had to sacrifice the knight. But unlike him, I wasn¡¯t keen on ending up sprawled out like a broken doll, as Hermione had.


    ¡°Potter, listen up,¡± I said quietly, glancing in his direction. ¡°I¡¯m about to sacrifice the knight. As soon as I do, you call checkmate on the king. Got it?¡±


    ¡°No, Ron,¡± Harry blurted, guilt flashing in his eyes as he glanced at Hermione. ¡°Not that. Think of something else!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already thought it through,¡± I replied firmly. ¡°Now stop arguing. Get your wand out. When the Queen takes a swing, use Leviosa to lift me up and get me to the other side. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he exhaled, relief washing over his face as he fumbled for his wand. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    I made my move, tugged the reins to rear the horse up, and watched from atop as the Queen stabbed it through the side and dragged it off to the edge of the board. I had to yank Hermione towards me quickly and forcefully to stop her from getting buried under falling rubble. Thankfully, she was still out cold.


    ¡°Ron, how is she?¡± Harry asked nervously, shifting from foot to foot, clearly too scared to come closer.


    ¡°Broken leg, probably a concussion, maybe internal injuries. How should I know? I¡¯m not a healer,¡± I answered coolly. ¡°She¡¯s still unconscious.¡± ¡®I wish help would come sooner¡¯, I silently pleaded.


    ¡°Ron, I¡¯m sorry, but I have to keep going,¡± Harry said seriously, guilt lacing his voice. ¡°You stay with Hermione and wait for help. If Voldemort gets the Stone, all of this was for nothing. You have to understand¡­¡±


    ¡°Go,¡± I said flatly. ¡°I¡¯m not stopping you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, mate,¡± Harry said with a sad smile before hurrying off toward the exit.


    ¡°You¡¯re not my mate, Harry,¡± I called after him, but he didn¡¯t stop. If anything, his shoulders slumped even more. ¡°Not anymore,¡± I muttered under my breath, stroking Hermione¡¯s hair as we were left alone.


    McGonagall never showed up, but about ten minutes later, Dumbledore himself arrived.


    ¡°Apologies, Mr. Weasley, but I can¡¯t stay with you,¡± he said, his voice gentle, his smile soft. I had half a mind to grab his beard and shake some sense into him. ¡°Could I ask you to take Miss Granger to the hospital wing?¡±


    Before I could answer, he flicked his wand, and a passageway appeared in the wall. I realized then that his ¡°question¡± wasn¡¯t really a request¡ªit wasn¡¯t up for debate. Fine by me. Without Hermione, Harry was probably either asleep or passed out drunk by now anyway.


    ¡°Please, Mr. Weasley,¡± he said kindly, but it was clearly an order as he conjured a stretcher for Hermione. ¡°This path will take you directly to where you need to go. I¡¯m terribly sorry, but I must be on my way.¡±


    With a sad smile and a dramatic swish of his travel cloak, he disappeared into the next room, almost as though he were never there. The whole interaction had taken no more than five minutes.


    The stretcher floated off down the tunnel on its own, and I guided it to keep it from bumping into the walls. We emerged through an alcove right next to the door to the hospital wing.

 Chapter 24

    When Madam Pomfrey saw Hermione, she gasped but quickly composed herself. Without asking any questions, she nodded at a chair for me before levitating Hermione into the next ward. Figuring the examination could take a while, I shrugged off my cloak and boots, sprawled on the nearest bed, and drifted off.


    I woke up to the prickle of diagnostic charms. Bright sunlight streamed through the window¡ªit was already morning.


    ¡°You¡¯re perfectly fine, Mr. Weasley,¡± Madam Pomfrey said with a small smile. ¡°Take a shower, change, and have some breakfast. After that, you¡¯re free to go.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s Hermione?¡± I asked, sitting up instead of answering.


    ¡°Miss Granger¡¯s physical condition is stable,¡± she said primly, pursing her thin lips in disapproval. ¡°I¡¯ll discharge her by evening.¡±


    ¡°Can I see her?¡±


    ¡°Only briefly. And no upsetting her,¡± she conceded with a wave toward the corridor. ¡°Third ward. Ten minutes, Mr. Weasley.¡±


    ¡°Hermione, can I come in?¡± I knocked softly, secretly hoping she was asleep and wouldn¡¯t answer. Facing her after everything that had happened was hard, and guilt gnawed at me. I should have done better¡ªknown better. A healthy, grown man like me, and I couldn¡¯t keep an eye on two kids.


    ¡°Come in,¡± she replied weakly, and I pushed the door open.


    A couple of minutes later, she was crying into my shoulder. ¡°Oh, Ron, I was so scared and hurt. I couldn¡¯t even help Harry¡ªI just got in the way. He remembered Lumos Maxima on his own, caught the key, and I... I froze,¡± she sobbed again.


    ¡°Why did you even get on the board if you didn¡¯t know how to play?¡± I asked, stroking her hair, relieved she¡¯d survived.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t know!¡± she said, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. ¡°It was dark at first, and then suddenly the lights came on, and we were already on the board. I didn¡¯t realize what was happening and ran to Harry, but he couldn¡¯t stop me in time. I was captured right away and dragged to the other side.¡± She bit her lip to hold back more tears.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t move, and Harry couldn¡¯t help me either. He tried making a few moves, but I passed out from the pain and don¡¯t remember much after that.¡± She began crying again but caught herself when she saw my irritated expression. Gripping my arm, she said, ¡°Don¡¯t be angry with Harry, Ron. It¡¯s not his fault. He hasn¡¯t woken up since they brought him in yesterday. I don¡¯t even know what happened to him. Please forgive him. He was just trying to do what¡¯s best for everyone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a judge to forgive things, Hermione,¡± I muttered through clenched teeth, cutting myself off before the anger could build. ¡°How did Harry manage to make a mess in just two moves?¡± I asked, changing the subject. It worked¡ªshe calmed down. Any more tears, and Pomfrey would have stormed in.


    ¡°There weren¡¯t many pieces left,¡± she explained. ¡°Like someone else had played before us and left the game unfinished. And there was blood... everything happened so fast I didn¡¯t have time to process it.¡± She started crying again, but fortunately, a very cross Madam Pomfrey came in, scolded me for upsetting her patient, and firmly kicked me out. Not that I minded¡ªI was already tired of all the waterworks.


    I wandered out of the hospital wing and leaned against the railing, feeling lost. I didn¡¯t want to go back to the common room¡ªNeville had probably already spread the word, and everyone would be waiting for details. Let alone Percy.


    So, I wandered aimlessly through the castle until I found myself in front of Snape¡¯s office.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t even think to ask Pomfrey how he was,¡¯ I realised, feeling a pang of guilt. I knocked, not expecting an answer, but the door swung open silently almost immediately.


    ¡°Come in, Mr. Weasley,¡± Snape said, stepping aside to let me enter. ¡°I¡¯ve been expecting you.¡±


    ¡°How are you, sir?¡± I asked as he unexpectedly brought out a teapot, two cups, and a plate of sweets, quietly setting the table.


    ¡°Alive, thanks to your prayers,¡± he said dryly. ¡°Help yourself,¡± he added, pushing a cup toward me and taking one for himself.


    ¡°Veritasium, sir?¡± I quipped, suppressing a laugh. The absurdity of the situation made me want to burst out laughing. No one would believe this if I told them. It was probably just nerves, though¡ªlingering stress from everything that had happened.


    ¡°Just Indian tea. A very fine one,¡± he replied, smirking faintly as he took a demonstrative sip. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sir, but I¡¯m not much of a tea connoisseur unless it¡¯s some herbal brew,¡± I admitted after a sip. ¡°You might as well have steeped a broomstick.¡±


    Snape let out a noncommittal hum into his cup and casually pushed a dish of jam toward me. The rest of the tea passed in tense silence.


    ¡°You¡¯re not as hopeless as I first thought, Mr. Weasley,¡± he said unexpectedly, setting his cup down and fixing me with a piercing gaze. ¡°Unfortunately, you don¡¯t know how to choose your friends. Unlike you, they lack common sense and self-preservation.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve figured that out for myself over the past year, sir,¡± I replied, setting my cup down as well. ¡°You¡¯re not telling me anything new. But, with all due respect, sir, they do have their good sides.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Weasley, I¡¯ll be blunt,¡± Snape said, leaning forward with a frown. ¡°It would be better if you distanced yourself from Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I¡¯m not suggesting you cut ties entirely, but believe me, without them, you¡¯d find life much easier¡ªand I¡¯d sleep better at night. Now that you¡¯re not on speaking terms, this is the perfect time to step away. Otherwise, you¡¯ll stay on this train until the end of the line. This chance won¡¯t come again. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for your concern, sir, but I¡¯ll sort out my friends on my own,¡± I said, taken aback by his strange speech. ¡°As you can see, I¡¯ve been able to help them.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s your ¡®help¡¯ that causes problems for me,¡± he snapped, standing abruptly. He paced the room before stopping in front of me again.


    ¡°Mr. Weasley, let me be clear. When the Headmaster calls you for a chat, he¡¯ll be very persuasive. He¡¯ll give you countless reasons to forgive your friends, to give them another chance, to keep babysitting Potter. But I want to give you a choice¡ªa real choice. After all, you didn¡¯t let me die,¡± he added with a peculiar smirk.


    With a dramatic sweep of his robes, he sat down opposite me and yanked my chair closer until barely a hand¡¯s width separated us.


    His sharp eyes burned with a restrained intensity, filled with purpose. For a moment, I half-expected him to pull out his wand and give me an impromptu lesson in Legilimency. But instead, he seemed to calm down, my detached demeanor seemingly having a grounding effect on him. He leaned back slightly, resting his elbows on the chair''s armrests and steepling his long, tense fingers together, half-covering his face in thought.


    "Mr. Weasley, does nothing about this business with the Stone strike you as odd?"


    "The simplicity of the obstacles and the availability of information, sir," I answered without hesitation. "You don¡¯t come across as careless, and there¡¯s no way Harry would¡¯ve overheard you unless you allowed it. And those challenges¡ªkeys, Devil¡¯s Snare, a chessboard¡ªhardly seem like serious barriers to an adult."


    "Excellent," he said with a faint smirk, leaning back into his chair with what looked like satisfaction. "Then I¡¯ll spare you the tedious explanations."Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Those obstacles were designed specifically for you, Mr. Weasley¡ªfor three inexperienced students whose strengths had been studied in advance. They were crafted to exploit Mr. Potter¡¯s reckless bravado and your tendency to follow along with his antics, should you happen to get underfoot."


    "And Quirrell?" I asked, unfazed. The troll that appeared before Halloween had been caged up long before, so the gauntlet must¡¯ve been set up later. "You knew something was off about him, didn¡¯t you?"


    "Naturally," Snape scoffed. "But as you correctly observed, the Headmaster is a great wizard and exceedingly thorough. The labyrinth held two traps¡ªone for Quirrell and one for you lot. Had you been as dimwitted a Gryffindor as your friends, everything would¡¯ve gone to plan. Your interference, however, forced an adjustment. Instead of playing along, you demonstrated common sense and involved an adult. But Mr. Potter, being who he is, acted on his own and tipped off Quirrell. The result? Miss Granger and I nearly died, and the Stone was almost stolen."


    "So, we were deliberately manipulated into participating?" A chill ran through me.


    "Oh no," he said quickly, with a sneer. "For that, you can thank your golden boy, Potter. He plunged in headfirst entirely of his own accord, driven by his inherited recklessness and utter lack of sense."


    "Then I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re getting at, sir," I ventured.


    "The Headmaster knew Quirrell wasn¡¯t what he seemed and set a trap. As you noted, he¡¯s an excellent judge of character and understood Quirrell wouldn¡¯t resist temptation. I don¡¯t know the specifics of the trap, but it would¡¯ve ensured the thief couldn¡¯t escape or retrieve the Stone. As for your trio of fools, a separate set of trials awaited, should you decide to play heroes¡ªwhich, of course, you did. Now, to the heart of the matter."


    Snape rose, pacing with one hand brushing his lips in thought, before abruptly stopping in front of me. His dark gaze pinned me in place.


    "You¡¯re a problem, Weasley," he said flatly. "Potter¡¯s idiocy and heroics are predictable, but your rare flashes of logic introduce an element of unpredictability¡ªdanger, even. You make my life considerably more difficult. Do you understand me?"


    I nodded, waiting for him to continue.


    "You¡¯ve two choices: either you take the lead in your little group and stop Potter from getting into trouble, or you dance to his tune without protest. If you can¡¯t act in unison, we¡¯ll see a repeat of yesterday. And I, for one, have no desire to die because a pack of children decided to play heroes. My advice? Cut ties with them and focus on yourself."


    "You think more incidents like this are likely, sir?" I asked instead of answering. "Isn¡¯t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest school in the world?"


    "It was," he said with a bitter twist of his mouth, "before Potter arrived. You¡¯re familiar with his story, I assume? The Dark Lord¡¯s defeat left many of his followers free. They¡¯ve spent years searching for Potter, and now that he¡¯s here, they¡¯ll try to reach him. And anyone close to him will be in danger. But Potter¡¯s reckless ego will make things worse. He¡¯ll leap into danger without regard for the cost to others."


    "Is that why you¡¯re so hostile to Harry, sir?" I ventured. "Because he puts people in danger?"


    "That¡¯s none of your concern, Weasley," he snapped coldly. "But if Potter would simply stick to his studies and avoid seeking out trouble, it would be better for everyone. Now, get out."


    I rose quickly, thanked him for the tea, and made my way to the door.


    "Weasley," his low voice called, and I turned back. "I trust you¡¯ll keep this conversation to yourself? Believe me, you don¡¯t want me as an enemy," he added with a deliberate edge of menace.


    "Understood, sir," I replied seriously before leaving.


    The Great Hall greeted me with cheers and wolf whistles from the Gryffindor table, mixed with whispers from the other houses. The one saving grace was that Percy restrained himself from scolding me in front of everyone. Instead, he watched me with a peculiar mix of worry and pride.


    The twins, however, weren¡¯t nearly as restrained and smothered me with hugs and congratulations until I was ready to flee.


    Neville looked at me with admiration tinged with guilt, while Seamus and Dean wore expressions of envy. Questions flew from every direction, but I deflected them all for now. I wasn¡¯t about to say something I¡¯d regret later.


    At least I learned the public version of events, courtesy of Hagrid. Overcome with guilt, the groundskeeper had spilled the beans to McGonagall after hearing that Harry had gone after the Stone. Hagrid had blamed himself, sobbing about letting slip details to the wrong people. Naturally, word had spread like wildfire.


    According to the story, Harry had heroically saved the Philosopher¡¯s Stone from a thief, and everyone seemed awed by his bravery. How could they not envy such an adventure?


    I was only curious about one thing: why did help take so long to arrive? It felt like they just sat around waiting for the headmaster to return, unwilling to act themselves.


    And now, what am I supposed to do about Harry and Hermione? How can I stand by, knowing what I do, while they charge off to save the world again? Of course, I''ll take Ginny''s diary away so the basilisk won¡¯t be a problem. I¡¯ll collect the Horcruxes in advance, save everyone from running around in the woods later. Then I can finally focus on myself, like Snape suggested.


    But could I really stay silent when Diggory is doomed to die? When Luna and the others storm the Ministry? Who would I be to them, trying to steer them away, if I remained just some classmate¡ªlike Dean or Seamus?


    And is Harry even that much at fault for me to resent him? He¡¯s just an eleven-year-old kid. Back at that age, I wasn¡¯t exactly the model of obedience either. We roamed through old quarries and building sites, snuck off to swim when we weren¡¯t supposed to. Got into scraps without a second thought.


    When you¡¯re young, you don¡¯t really think about death, do you? It¡¯s just something that happens when you¡¯re ninety and done with life. You never imagine yourself dying in a stupid accident¡ªfalling off a bike or something. That¡¯s for other people. Not us. Not the clever ones, the careful ones.


    So yeah, I couldn¡¯t blame Harry. And honestly, I had no idea how to proceed without making things worse. But one thing was certain: if I didn¡¯t get involved, the Weasleys would be the first to suffer. Ron, Ginny, George, Arthur, Bill, Fred¡­


    Dumbledore didn¡¯t care about anyone except the Chosen One¡ªand even then, only so far as Harry fit into his plans. As for Snape, trusting him was tricky. Not because he¡¯d betray us, but because he¡¯d sacrifice my family in a heartbeat if it meant defeating Voldemort. He came up with the ¡°Seven Potters¡± plan, after all, and didn¡¯t seem to care that my whole family was risking their lives for one boy.


    Even so, I was leaning toward sticking with Harry and Hermione. I couldn¡¯t just leave them on their own. I asked myself honestly, and the answer was clear: I wouldn¡¯t be able to stay away. And what would be the point of distancing myself if I¡¯d just end up rushing to help them anyway? Snape was right again¡ªit¡¯s better to take charge and try to keep things under control than to clean up the mess afterward.


    When I ignored things before, Hermione nearly died.


    As for the risks¡ªwhat did I really face? It¡¯s not like Voldemort and I would ever meet one-on-one. Harry always faced him alone. And I liked Harry and Hermione. They¡¯re good people¡ªhonest, brave, and loyal enough to jump into any fire for their friends.


    So, after dinner, I headed to the Hospital Wing to fetch Hermione¡ªshe¡¯d asked me to come¡ªand ran straight into Dumbledore.


    ¡°Good evening, Miss Granger,¡± Dumbledore greeted her warmly, with a nod.


    ¡°Good evening, Professor,¡± Hermione mumbled, her cheeks turning pink.


    ¡°And you, Mr. Weasley,¡± he said, his sharp gaze flicking to me. ¡°Come to visit your friend?¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± I replied honestly. ¡°I came to escort Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower.¡±


    ¡°Well, they wouldn¡¯t have let you see him anyway,¡± he said with a faint sigh. ¡°The poor boy is still unconscious. No, no, Miss Granger, don¡¯t cry,¡± he added kindly, patting her shoulder. ¡°Harry will be fine. And now, if you don¡¯t mind, I need to borrow your friend for something important. Miss Granger, perhaps Madam Pomfrey could walk you back?¡±


    I didn¡¯t like how he was talking about me as if I weren¡¯t there¡ªor as if my opinion didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need, sir,¡± I cut in before Hermione could agree. ¡°I¡¯ll take her myself and come find you afterward. It won¡¯t take long.¡±


    ¡°Very well, Mr. Weasley,¡± Dumbledore said, studying me for a moment before breaking into an unexpected grin. ¡°I¡¯ll await you in my office. Oh, and do note that I¡¯m partial to fruit sherbets this week.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t told me where your office is, sir,¡± I called out as he turned to leave.


    ¡°Ah, consider it a little puzzle,¡± he said with a chuckle, his half-moon glasses glinting mischievously. ¡°But I have no doubt you¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s so odd,¡± Hermione muttered thoughtfully, listening to the fading click of his boots. ¡°And he likes lemon sherbets.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a password, you dolt,¡± I said with a snort. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve got to find his office next.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think he needs to see you?¡± Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in concern. ¡°When people get called to the headmaster¡¯s office, it¡¯s never good, is it? You don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to expel us, do you?¡±


    ¡°Of course not, Hermione,¡± I said, starting to get annoyed. ¡°If he were, he¡¯d have summoned both of us¡ªwith McGonagall in tow for good measure. He probably just wants details about what happened yesterday. Or to ask about Harry.¡±


    ¡°Alright then,¡± she said, giving me a small, shy smile. She hesitated for a moment, then squeezed my hand. ¡°Thank you, Ron. For not leaving me behind and for bringing me to the Hospital Wing. It would¡¯ve been awful to wake up there alone.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± I said quickly. ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re okay. Now off you go.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, Ron,¡± she said, offering me an encouraging smile before disappearing through the portrait hole.


    I watched her go, lingered for a moment to collect myself, and then closed my eyes.

 Chapter 25

    It was odd¡ªI¡¯d thought the Headmaster¡¯s office was in one of the towers. But the path led me to the fifth floor, far from the Restricted Section, to the right of the main staircase, and around a corner. There stood a gargoyle statue, life-sized, carved from stone.


    ¡°Sherbet lemons,¡± I said, staring into its blank stone eyes.


    ¡°Proceed,¡± the statue rasped, shifting aside to reveal a hidden alcove and a spiraling staircase. The moment I stepped onto the first step, it began to rotate, carrying me smoothly upwards to a massive dark wood door, which creaked open as soon as I reached the small landing.


    So, it was a tower after all¡­


    The Headmaster¡¯s office suited its eccentric owner perfectly. The focal point was a grand mahogany desk, cluttered with papers and mysterious contraptions. Behind it, a massive Gothic-style window stretched to the ceiling. Flanking the room were two small open staircases curving upwards, leading to a second floor lined with bookshelves. Above those shelves hung portraits of past headmasters, their painted eyes unmistakably fixed on me. One stern-looking man in 18th-century robes openly glared, while the others feigned sleep.


    Below, the room was packed with glass-fronted cabinets glowing softly, filled with peculiar trinkets that spun, smoked, or jingled. The constant hum and clatter created a lively backdrop, an almost organic sense of movement.


    But it was the bird that caught my attention. Perched behind a chair that looked more like a throne, the phoenix sat still and regal. I hadn¡¯t noticed it at first; the space behind the throne formed an alcove of sorts, elevated by wide steps and enclosed by stained-glass windows with breathtaking views of the Black Lake and rolling hills beyond. When the phoenix suddenly flapped its wings and released a melodic trill, I couldn¡¯t help but step closer.


    It probably wasn¡¯t proper to wander freely through someone else¡¯s domain, but the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen, and I was curious. Perfectly normal for a boy my age, wasn¡¯t it?


    The phoenix exuded a warm, magical aura¡ªsimilar to that of a unicorn, but hotter, somehow. For a while, we simply studied each other. Then, quite unexpectedly, it lowered its head, inviting a stroke. It was impossible to resist the gentle pull of its magic.


    Suddenly, the phoenix cooed, twisted its neck, and plucked a feather from its tail, holding it out to me. I froze, uncertain. Phoenix feathers were valuable, and who¡¯d believe I hadn¡¯t just nicked it?


    ¡°You really must take it, Mr. Weasley,¡± came a voice from behind, startling me. I spun around to see the Headmaster standing there, watching with his ever-present twinkle. ¡°Fawkes doesn¡¯t give gifts lightly. He must find you rather likeable.¡±


    ¡°Er¡ªthank you, Fawkes,¡± I said, giving the bird one last pat before turning back to face Dumbledore.


    ¡°I told you you¡¯d find my office easily enough, didn¡¯t I?¡± he said, his tone as enigmatic as his smile. ¡°Please, sit.¡±


    He gestured towards an oval table on the far side of the room, covered with a cloth and surrounded by chairs. The Headmaster took the grandest chair, of course, while I settled into the nearest one, placing the phoenix feather carefully on the seat beside me.


    Dumbledore tapped his knuckles lightly on the table. Instantly, bowls of sweets, plates of biscuits, a teapot, and fine china appeared. It reminded me of those enchanted tablecloths from fairy tales, and I couldn¡¯t help but grin at the thought. I imagined this was how the teachers held their meetings¡ªsipping tea and nibbling sweets in this cosy little setup.


    ¡°Sugar? Cream?¡± he asked, peering at me over his half-moon spectacles as he passed me a cup.


    ¡°Just cream, please,¡± I said, accepting the jug.


    ¡°Well then, Ron,¡± he began after a long pause, ¡°you don¡¯t mind if I call you Ron, do you?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, sir,¡± I replied with a shrug, setting my tea aside. ¡°It is my name, after all.¡±


    He chuckled softly, hiding a smile in his beard. For a man who¡¯d just had a near catastrophe in his school, he seemed oddly light-hearted¡ªalmost playful.


    ¡°I imagine you have questions about the recent¡­ events,¡± he said with a wistful sigh. ¡°Go on, ask. I¡¯ll answer what I can, though I won¡¯t lie to you, Ron. If there¡¯s something I cannot reveal, I¡¯ll simply remain silent.¡±


    ¡°Did you call me here to tell me that Hermione and I are getting expelled?¡± I asked, playing dumb. ¡°Is that what this is about?¡±


    ¡°Oh, not at all,¡± he said, brightening visibly. ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to worry about on that account. Although,¡± he added with a conspiratorial wink, ¡°you did manage to break at least a dozen rules. But no, I called you here because you and your friends have been through quite the ordeal. I wanted to hear your perspective. Professor Snape speaks highly of you¡ªsays you¡¯re a very thoughtful young man.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, sir,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°Why did the school let something like this happen? I know you might say we brought it on ourselves, but surely adult wizards have ways to stop this kind of thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we are wizards, Ron,¡± he said, his usual jovial tone replaced by something far more serious. ¡°And that, my boy, is precisely why things unfolded as they did.¡± He nodded, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± I admitted, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. ¡°I¡¯m twelve. Could you make it simpler?¡±


    ¡°Every person has their path, Ron,¡± he began grandly, and I immediately stiffened, intrigued. Was he about to share some secret of magic? Perhaps another mystery of the wizarding world? But no, what followed was disappointingly¡­ ordinary.


    ¡°For some, the path is straight and smooth. For others, it twists and turns. Yet, we all walk our own roads,¡± he continued, his words heavy with meaning. ¡°Sometimes, our paths merge with others, forming a single road¡ªbroader and stronger¡ªwhere a friend¡¯s hand will catch you if you stumble. Do you see, Ron?¡±


    I nodded thoughtfully, though I didn¡¯t quite grasp where all this was leading. Honestly, I felt a bit disappointed.


    "It so happens," Dumbledore said, narrowing his eyes with that uncanny knack for reading my thoughts, "that your path and Miss Granger¡¯s have merged with Harry¡¯s. I sense you¡¯re still angry with him," he added, his tone gentle but sharp, "but if you reflect on it, you¡¯ll see that your fate is to walk alongside your friends, to help them when they stumble. And someday, Ron, they¡¯ll do the same for you. Otherwise, this terrible ordeal could repeat itself."


    "You¡¯re blaming me for what happened?" I blurted, utterly gobsmacked by the audacity.


    "Not at all, my boy," he replied hastily. "Quite the contrary¡ªyour timely actions protected both Miss Granger and Professor Snape from harm. Can you see now how vital you are to Harry? Your common sense helps keep you all on the right track, facing evil together and supporting one another."


    "Forgive me, sir," I said, my temper cooling slightly at his thinly veiled flattery, "but why are you so sure there¡¯s this ''shared path''? I¡¯ll meet all sorts of people in my life, and some of them I might walk with for a while. But that doesn¡¯t mean I should slog through everything with them, especially when they go looking for trouble. By that logic, you might as well say the same about Dean and Seamus if Harry drags them into a scrape someday."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "Ah, but that¡¯s precisely because we are wizards, Ron," he said, his voice taking on a weightier tone, his usual levity fading as he frowned at my skepticism. "Tell me, have you wondered why, after the announcement at the start of the year about the forbidden corridor and the terrifying fate awaiting intruders, no one boasted of sneaking in to see the Cerberus? That place was enchanted¡ªwarded against everyone but those destined to enter."


    He paused dramatically, his half-moon glasses glinting in the firelight. "Even Professor Snape or other staff couldn¡¯t bypass my protections to get past the dog. And students? They wouldn¡¯t have been able to approach at all. Miss Granger and you, my boy, could only enter because you were with Harry. Yet what surprised me most was that you managed it on your own, without Harry¡¯s help. My wards were rather advanced, if I may say so." He gave a little self-satisfied smile before studying me with keen interest. "Not only did you get through, but you helped. Surely now you must see¡ªit was magic itself guiding you."


    I scowled, trying to keep my irritation in check. To me, it all sounded like an overblown excuse for leaving us to fend for ourselves. Still, his words stirred an uncomfortable memory. Luna¡¯s talk of ¡®the Path.¡¯ Somewhere deep down, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Dumbledore was trying to explain the same thing, albeit in his convoluted, grandiose way. It also explained why no one had come to help us¡ªthey couldn¡¯t get through the magical barrier and had to wait for Dumbledore.


    "I see you understand me now, Ron," Dumbledore said with a satisfied smile, his gaze locked on my face as though reading every flicker of thought. "It never ceases to amaze me, the strange twists and turns of fate. You¡¯d think everything could be planned and calculated, but no¡ªdestiny always asserts itself. And we must respect that."


    His expression softened, almost grandfatherly. "You are important to your friends, Ron, and they to you. It would be wise to grant them another chance to earn your trust and friendship. Bonds of friendship are part of love, a powerful force that governs all things. Squandering such gifts of fate would be most unwise, my boy," he finished solemnly.


    "I¡¯ll think about it, sir," I said curtly, determined to keep the final word and decision mine. Dumbledore, however, simply nodded with that infuriating look of understanding, then grew serious again.


    "But you mustn¡¯t take on Harry¡¯s burdens, Ron, or try to carry his destiny for him," he said abruptly. "Your role is to support him on his challenging path, to stand by his choices."


    "Destiny?" I repeated, feigning surprise. "Potter has a destiny?"


    "Each of us does, my boy," Dumbledore said, sidestepping my question with the finesse of a politician. "Harry, too, is guided by fate. But permit me to remain silent on this matter for now. When you¡¯re older, I promise I¡¯ll explain everything to you and Miss Granger. For now, it¡¯s time you returned to Gryffindor Tower. Let¡¯s not worry Miss Granger unnecessarily," he added with a sly smile, rising from his seat in a clear signal for me to leave.


    Not needing to be told twice, I grabbed the phoenix feather and made my way out.


    But instead of heading straight to the common room, I wandered. There was plenty of time before curfew, and I needed to think.


    When I¡¯d set out for this meeting, I¡¯d hoped Dumbledore would be honest with me¡ªnot entirely forthcoming, of course, but at least truthful. Yet what he fed me didn¡¯t even come close. I¡¯d expected him to tell me about Voldemort, appeal to my sense of duty, or tug at my heartstrings with tales of Harry¡¯s struggles. But apparently, in Dumbledore¡¯s eyes, Ron Weasley wasn¡¯t significant enough to merit trust. Just a little guilt trip and a pinch of flattery. Even Snape had been more straightforward, warning me about the Dark Lord and the dangers ahead.


    It was painfully clear now¡ªDumbledore intended to use me without revealing his full hand. How could I trust him after this?


    I¡¯d gone to sound him out, maybe even share what I knew about the future. But now I realized it wouldn¡¯t change a thing. Even armed with foresight, Dumbledore wouldn¡¯t deviate from his plans. He¡¯d block me from acting to protect my family, all for the sake of ensuring the prophecy played out and Voldemort fell.


    I could almost hear his voice, syrupy and unyielding: "Why hunt down Horcruxes ourselves, my boy? Let events unfold as they must. Harry and Voldemort are linked by magic and death. That bond will guide him to the Horcruxes in time. Don¡¯t meddle¡ªsimply stand by as the Hero fulfills his prophesied mission."


    And I¡¯d wager he already knew about the Horcruxes. In the book, during second year, after the Chamber of Secrets debacle, he¡¯d said, ¡°It¡¯s not who, but how.¡± That meant he suspected Voldemort would keep returning, each time trying to kill Harry, and Harry would keep defeating him. All part of the grand plan.


    I sighed, bitterness welling up. Dumbledore wasn¡¯t interested in simple solutions. No, he wanted grandeur, drama¡ªan epic tale. And if sacrifices had to be made for that tale to unfold, well, so be it.


    "Ron, how did it go?" Hermione rushed toward me the moment I stepped into the empty common room, her face etched with worry. "You were gone for ages. I was so worried."


    "It¡¯s fine, Hermione," I forced a smile, my head still swimming with thoughts. "We¡¯re not getting expelled. In fact, we were praised."


    "Thank goodness," she breathed out, visibly relieved. Then, with a sheepish glance, she added,


    "I was so scared. Ron, you¡¯re not mad at me, are you¡­ for not believing you?" She fiddled nervously with her hands as we sat down near the fire. The room was empty, which gave me the chance to tell her about Quirrell without an audience.


    "Not anymore," I replied honestly. "But you¡¯ve got to start thinking things through, Hermione."


    Her eyes narrowed defensively. "You think I¡¯m daft?"


    "Of course not," I said, smiling at her indignation. "You¡¯re brilliant, and your memory¡¯s unmatched. But you don¡¯t know how to weigh your options or connect the dots properly. That¡¯s why you sometimes jump to the wrong conclusions and, well¡­ act rashly."


    "Name one time I¡¯ve done that," she challenged, though the flicker of satisfaction from my compliment lingered on her face. "Go on, prove it."


    "Easy," I smirked. "Why¡¯d you hex Neville? And I won¡¯t even get into the fact that raising your wand against one of our own¡­"


    "Well," she faltered, flushing a little. "He forced my hand. He was trying to stop us and call for a teacher."


    "Wasn¡¯t that the whole point?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "To get McGonagall to the Stone, so she could intercept Snape and hold him off? Or were you and Harry planning to face a grown wizard yourselves from the start?"


    "Of course not," she admitted, her puzzled expression almost endearing. "I¡­ I don¡¯t know what I was thinking."


    "That¡¯s exactly it," I said, leaning back. "You and Harry act first, think later. You¡¯ve got to stop trying to handle everything on your own."


    She hesitated, then asked quietly, "But¡­ you¡¯ll make up with Harry, won¡¯t you?" Her eyes brimmed with hope, and I could tell the thought of choosing between us weighed heavily on her. I didn¡¯t envy her position¡ªHermione wasn¡¯t the sort to let go of either of us easily.


    "I don¡¯t want to lose Harry¡¯s friendship, Hermione," I said truthfully. "If he admits he was wrong and respects me a bit more going forward, then yeah, I¡¯ll be happy to patch things up." I gave her a reassuring smile, and she brightened. "But for now, off to bed with you. You¡¯ve only just got out of the Hospital Wing." My tone turned gruff as I tugged her gently toward the staircase.


    "Thanks, Ron," she said quickly, her eyes shining with gratitude. Then, to my utter surprise, she kissed me on the cheek before darting away without a backward glance.


    <hr>


    The next day, we were finally allowed to visit Harry for a few minutes, though he was still unconscious. Hermione had been desperate to see him, and I figured Dumbledore had given the nod for our visit. Madam Pomfrey wasn¡¯t pleased, pursing her lips as she let us in.


    Harry looked awful. Without his glasses, and in that oversized hospital pyjama set, he seemed so small, so vulnerable. Hermione fled to her dormitory afterward, probably to have a good cry. I wandered the castle instead, my thoughts heavy. It was grimly unfair that the weight of the magical world¡¯s peace rested on Harry¡¯s thin shoulders. For the first time, I couldn¡¯t even be bitter about it. A broomstick, a bit of rule-bending, and house points¡­ none of it felt like enough for a boy whose destiny was to die for everyone else.


    After dinner, a fifth-year handed us a note, and we headed back to the Hospital Wing. This time, we were let in without fuss, but only for five minutes.


    "Ron, Hermione," Harry greeted us, his voice uncertain as he gave us a guilty look. "I¡¯m so glad to see you."


    "Oh, Harry," Hermione cried, practically throwing herself at him. "We were so worried! We thought that¡­ that¡­"


    "I¡¯m fine," he assured her, awkwardly patting her hair as she clung to him. Over her head, he shot me a questioning glance, waiting for some signal that we were still mates. I figured he¡¯d been through enough without me adding to it.


    "Glad you pulled through, Harry," I said, keeping my tone neutral but offering a small smile. It was enough; his face lit up with relief.


    "Ron, I need to tell you¡ª" he began earnestly, but I cut him off.


    "We¡¯ve only got five minutes, Harry. There¡¯ll be plenty of time to talk later. For now, just focus on getting better." I glanced pointedly toward the clinking potions bottles behind the screen, where Madam Pomfrey was keeping an ear out.


    "Alright," Harry said, smiling faintly as Hermione finally released him. "Till tomorrow, then?"


    "See you, Harry," Hermione sniffed, giving him a watery smile before tugging me out the door.

 Chapter 26

    The morning after breakfast, we visited Harry again to check when he¡¯d be discharged. Turns out it was tentatively set for the evening, provided Madam Pomfrey was satisfied with his test results. She was kind enough to let us stay for about forty minutes, but we didn¡¯t get much of a proper chat in. We barely managed to ask how he was feeling and learned that Dumbledore had visited him the night before. Harry was just about to share more when Hagrid burst into the hospital wing, sweating buckets.


    Without taking his eyes off Harry, he mumbled a brief hello to us, plonked himself on the nearest chair, and promptly started bawling his eyes out.


    "It¡¯s all my fault," he wailed, rocking back and forth while blowing his nose with deafening gusto. "I went and blabbed to that monster ¡®bout Fluffy when I¡¯d had a few drinks¡­ And they nearly killed yeh! All ¡®cause o¡¯ that bloody egg. Hermione almost died too, and I¡­ I¡­"


    "Hagrid," Harry stammered, looking flustered, "don¡¯t beat yourself up. It¡¯s not your fault. Voldemort would¡¯ve found out one way or another."


    "Er¡­ Don¡¯t say his name, Harry," Hagrid shuddered, his wide eyes full of alarm. "You¡¯ll bring bad luck."


    "VOLDEMORT!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs, glaring defiantly. We all froze, gobsmacked, and Madam Pomfrey poked her head around the curtain, frowning in disapproval. Even Hagrid stopped crying, letting out a couple of loud hiccups instead.


    But Harry wasn¡¯t done¡ªhe was clearly in a mood today. With the sort of dramatic flair Dumbledore would¡¯ve been proud of, he declared, "I faced him. I saw his face, and I stopped him from stealing the Stone. So I¡¯ll call him by his name. I¡ª"


    "Harry, does that crown of yours fit all right? Not too tight, is it?" I cut in, deadpan, taking advantage of his pause. I squinted meaningfully in Hermione¡¯s direction, subtly hinting at his earlier blunder.


    He choked on his words, falling silent and staring at me, wide-eyed. For a moment, an awkward, heavy silence filled the room, making everyone uncomfortable.


    "Oh, Harry!" Hagrid suddenly exclaimed, smacking his forehead, lightening the mood. "I nearly forgot¡ªI got summat for yeh." He handed Harry a book, which turned out to be a photo album. Harry looked visibly moved, and Hagrid blushed under the praise. Even Hermione, who¡¯d buried her nose in the album, glanced up at me with doe eyes and whispered, "That¡¯s so sweet."


    The rest of the visit passed on a more cheerful note until Madam Pomfrey shooed us out.


    Later that evening, just before dinner, Snape cornered me.


    "Weasley. Follow me," he ordered curtly as he strode past, not slowing his pace as he headed for his office.


    Once inside, he wasted no time. "I see you¡¯ve decided not to follow my advice," he sneered as we sat down. He didn¡¯t bother offering me tea¡ªclearly, I¡¯d fallen out of his good graces. "Your arrogance¡ªor rather, your stupidity¡ªwill cost you dearly."


    "It¡¯s not stupidity, sir," I sighed, not keen on making an enemy of him. "I just don¡¯t have much of a choice. And you¡¯re wrong, sir," I added under his skeptical gaze. "I can step off the train anytime, but my whole family¡¯s on it. And Hermione¡­ she¡¯s brilliant, stubborn, and a bit too Gryffindor for her own good. I can¡¯t just leave her to die. I¡¯d rather stick around and make a difference¡ªor get help from an adult if things go south. They¡¯d never do it themselves. They¡¯d die for the cause first."


    I looked him straight in the eye as I finished, only to notice something odd. Snape had gone completely still, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white. His face was unreadable¡ªmore so than usual¡ªbut for a fleeting moment, something strange flickered in his dark eyes.


    And that¡¯s when it hit me¡ªhis situation with Evans must¡¯ve been similar. Brilliant. I¡¯d really put my foot in it now.


    After a long pause, he spoke, his voice icy. "Promise me, Weasley, no heroics. Keep me informed of your activities, heed my advice, and obey without question."


    "Sorry, sir, but no," I said firmly. "I won¡¯t be a snitch, and I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t ask. And no offense, but I don¡¯t trust you enough to take orders, even if you did speak kindly of me to the Headmaster. Thanks for that, by the way."


    "And why, pray tell, do you not trust me?" he asked with a faint smirk, settling back in his chair as if the conversation amused him. "What exactly did you take away from your meeting with the Headmaster to arrive at such conclusions?"


    "That you were right, sir," I admitted. "The Headmaster knew someone would go after Potter as soon as he enrolled, and he made contingency plans in advance. The Stone was just a distraction for Quirrell, to keep him from outright trying to kill Harry. The whole obstacle course was put in place after that Quidditch match where you saved Harry. And this won¡¯t be the last attempt on him¡ªthere¡¯ll be something next year too. And when it happens, we¡¯ll get a pat on the head and a few points for Gryffindor, despite the danger."


    Snape stared at me with growing interest, then said softly, "Why, then, do you refuse to cooperate? Did I not tell you the truth and warn you of the risks?"


    "Because I don¡¯t agree with the Headmaster, sir," I replied candidly. "And you do. Quirrell could¡¯ve been dealt with much more easily¡ªjust a few drops of Veritaserum, and he¡¯d have spilled everything and been carted off to Azkaban. I don¡¯t see why we had to let things drag out all year, risking students¡¯ lives and giving Potter a migraine."


    "Potter was never in any real danger," Snape countered, almost mockingly. "We were watching Quirrell closely."


    "Right. And the troll?" I said, letting out a bitter laugh. "Harry and I had to tick off our Head of House just to get her to check the bathroom, or Hermione might¡¯ve been dead already. And let¡¯s not forget that nighttime jaunt in the Forbidden Forest."


    "You showed remarkable Slytherin cunning back then, Weasley," he said with the faintest of smiles. "You¡¯d have done well in my House, I think."


    ¡°A blood traitor in Slytherin?¡± I smirked. ¡°You¡¯re having a laugh, sir. Though, I suppose you got lucky¡ªthere¡¯s only one brave idiot in the entire house. I promise I¡¯ll come to you for help, sir,¡± I added when Snape merely grimaced at my joke, likely thinking of his blond-haired headache. ¡°And now, if there¡¯s nothing else you need from me, I¡¯ll go pack my trunk, sir.¡±


    ¡°Off you go, Weasley,¡± he replied, waving me away. ¡°And remember this¡ªif you get underfoot, you¡¯ll experience my wrath firsthand. But I will never refuse you assistance. Also, ten points from Gryffindor for your cheeky remarks.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± I said with a nod, heading out. Honestly, the day had been drowning in drama, and it wasn¡¯t even over yet.


    That evening, just before the Farewell Feast, they finally let Potter out of the hospital wing. He showed up a bit late, shuffling in with his head down while the rest of us were already seated. The room went abuzz with whispers and curious stares, but he quickly scurried over, plopping down between Hermione and me.


    We were all set to grill him for details, but Dumbledore saved him by rising from his throne and launching into a speech.


    To be fair, it wasn¡¯t much different from the book version. The only difference was that Gryffindor had climbed to second place instead of dead last, thanks to our points being restored.


    ¡°And so, another year draws to a close,¡± the Headmaster beamed, practically glowing like a Christmas tree. ¡°Now, let¡¯s tally the final scores and crown our champion.¡±


    ¡°Hufflepuff¡ª360 points. Well done!¡±


    ¡°Ravenclaw¡ª402 points. Excellent!¡±


    ¡°Gryffindor¡ª420 points. Splendid!¡±


    ¡°And in first place, with 450 points¡ªSlytherin! Hooray for Slytherin!¡± he announced, sparking a wave of cheers from the Snakes. ¡°However, in light of recent events, it¡¯s necessary to revise the standings.¡±


    The room fell silent. The Slytherins, clearly sensing something dodgy coming their way, weren¡¯t wrong.


    ¡°And so, we begin with Ronald Weasley,¡± the Headmaster continued, his voice positively dripping with pride. ¡°For the finest chess match Hogwarts has ever seen and his unwavering loyalty to his friends¡ªten points.¡±


    Our lot erupted in cheers. Fred and George leapt up and draped themselves over me like I was a human coat rack, while Percy stood on his chair, yelling at the top of his lungs, likely to make sure Penelope at the next table heard him:


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.¡°That¡¯s my younger brother, Ron! He won McGonagall¡¯s enchanted chess game!¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother correcting him, didn¡¯t tell him we could¡¯ve just blasted the pieces to bits like Quirrell did. We hadn¡¯t learned those kinds of spells yet. Instead, I threw a smug grin at Malfoy, who was glaring daggers at me.


    ¡°For Gryffindor bravery and nobility¡ªten points to Hermione Granger,¡± Dumbledore continued, met with thunderous applause. Hermione turned redder than a tomato and looked on the verge of tears, but the hall was still buzzing with excitement. Clearly, the other houses were loving Slytherin¡¯s fall from grace.


    ¡°And finally, Harry Potter,¡± Dumbledore called out, making everyone hold their breath. ¡°For his steely nerve and incredible courage¡ªten points.¡±


    He raised a hand, silencing the hall instantly.


    ¡°It takes courage to stand up to your enemies,¡± he said with a twinkle in his eye, ¡°but just as much to stand up to your friends when defending the truth. Ten points to Neville Longbottom.¡±


    Our table exploded with cheers as everyone pounced on Neville, smothering him in celebratory hugs. The poor lad looked both thrilled and terrified. The chaos might¡¯ve gone on forever if Dumbledore hadn¡¯t called us back to attention.


    ¡°And so, this year¡¯s winner is... Gryffindor.¡± He clapped his hands, and the banners changed to red and gold. Snape gave McGonagall a limp handshake, his expression suggesting he¡¯d rather drink poison, but he threw me a meaningful glance, curling his lips into a faint smirk. Honestly, sometimes it felt like he and I were the only sane people in this madhouse.


    A war was brewing, dangers lurking around every corner, and all McGonagall cared about was the Quidditch Cup and the House Championship. Malfoy looked like he was fantasizing about Voldemort returning and gutting the entire Gryffindor table. Meanwhile, Dumbledore stood there, practically glowing with delight, as if he lived in some whimsical land of rainbows and unicorns.


    <hr>


    The next morning after breakfast, Hagrid ferried us to the station in the boats. We gave him a proper goodbye and climbed into the train. As it pulled away, the thought of going home lifted my spirits. I¡¯d see my family soon, and Luna too. Not even the upcoming conversation dampened my mood.


    ¡°Alright, Harry,¡± Hermione said impatiently, wasting no time once we were settled in. ¡°Spill it. How did you manage to save the stone?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Harry began, ¡°when Ron stayed with you, I went on. There was a troll, but it was either out cold or dead¡ªI didn¡¯t check,¡± he added quickly when Hermione gasped in alarm. ¡°I just slipped past it.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡± she whispered nervously, covering her mouth with her hand.


    ¡°Then I found a room with a table and a riddle. Oh, Hermione, I saved it for you!¡± he said, rummaging in his trunk before handing her a scroll. ¡°I think it was meant for you, but you didn¡¯t make it¡­¡±


    He trailed off, looking guilty as Hermione snatched it up and immediately started muttering excitedly under her breath.


    ¡°Looks tricky,¡± I commented. ¡°How¡¯d you figure it out?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Harry admitted, grinning unexpectedly. ¡°When I got there, the bottles were already smashed¡ªexcept for three on the floor. I sniffed them and only recognized the wine. Then I reckoned the Headmaster wouldn¡¯t set a trap to kill someone¡ªit¡¯s not his style. Thought it was probably a sleeping draught or something. So I just drank it.¡±


    ¡°Wait, seriously?¡± I gawked at him. ¡°You just chugged some random potion?¡±


    "Why just random, though?" Harry sounded a bit offended. "I did think it through. Those bottles, yeah, they were all knocked over, but still full¡ªexcept for one that was nearly empty and had blood on it. That¡¯s the one I took a sip from," he finished, looking rather pleased with himself.


    "There is no way to figure out the answer now," Hermione cut in, clearly frustrated. "You¡¯d have to know how the bottles were arranged. But I¡¯ve worked out the principle behind it. Shame I never got to that part of the challenge. Harry, could I keep this scroll as a keepsake?"


    "Course you can, Hermione," Harry said, smiling.


    "So, what happened after that?" I butted in, impatient to hear the rest.


    "Well, behind the door was this big hall, and there was the mirror¡ªyou know, the one I told you about? And in front of it... Quirrell. Ron, I owe you an apology," Harry admitted, looking me straight in the eye. "You were right¡ªit wasn¡¯t Snape; it was Quirrell. He said he¡¯d been waiting for me and that Snape actually saved my life at the match."


    "What? How¡¯s that possible, Harry?" Hermione whispered, looking utterly flummoxed. "I saw him muttering!"


    "He was casting a counter-curse," Harry explained. "You knocked Quirrell over when you ran down the stands."


    "How fascinating, eh, Hermione?" I said with a smirk. "Imagine if it hadn¡¯t been for your clumsy rush, there¡¯d be nothing left of Harry but a scorch mark."


    "Why d¡¯you have to be like that, Ron?" Harry scolded, while Hermione¡¯s eyes filled with tears again. "Don¡¯t be nasty, even if you¡¯re right."


    "No, he¡¯s telling the truth," Hermione sniffed, glancing up at us with watery eyes. "I¡¯ve realised all I¡¯m good for is hiding in the library. I¡¯m utterly useless when it counts."


    "Hey, it all worked out in the end," Harry said, giving her a warm smile. "Besides, you wanted to help."


    "Right, let¡¯s move on, then," I cut in. All this sentiment was starting to get on my nerves. "What happened next?"


    "The stone was hidden in the mirror, and Quirrell couldn¡¯t get to it. Then suddenly it was in my pocket, though I¡¯ve no clue how. But the worst part," Harry added in a hushed tone, leaning closer to us, "was that Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort. He had a second face under his turban."


    "That¡¯s horrible," Hermione gasped.


    "And then Voldemort realised I had the stone and told Quirrell to take it¡ªand to kill me if he had to. When Quirrell touched me, though, he started getting these awful burns, screaming his head off. And there was blood everywhere. At first, I thought he¡¯d killed whoever was guarding the stone before I got there, but it turned out he was already injured. Then he pinned me down and started choking me... and that¡¯s all I remember."


    "Snape wounded Quirrell," I said. "After I warned him, he ran to the third-floor corridor and set up an ambush. But thanks to you, Harry, Quirrell was expecting it and managed to dodge. Still, Snape got him. I found him later, half-dead in a pool of his own blood. So yeah, Harry, Snape saved your life again. Maybe now you¡¯ll stop thinking he¡¯s the villain here."


    Judging by the stubborn look on Harry¡¯s face, I wasn¡¯t holding my breath for that. At least Hermione looked properly ashamed, staring down at her hands like she¡¯d just been told off.


    "Hmm... What about you two? What happened after I left?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.


    "Not much," I said with a shrug. "After you went on, Dumbledore showed up. He conjured a stretcher for Hermione and opened the way to the Hospital Wing, then went after you."


    "And he wasn¡¯t surprised to see you there?" Hermione asked.


    "Course not," I replied. "Dumbledore set the whole thing up for us¡ªkeys for Harry, chess for me, the logic puzzle for you. Even sent Harry the Invisibility Cloak. He wanted us involved."


    "That¡¯s ridiculous! I can¡¯t believe it," Hermione huffed, her voice full of outrage.


    "No, Hermione, Ron¡¯s right," Harry said. "Dumbledore¡¯s brilliant, but he¡¯s always got a plan. I think he wanted to give me a chance to face Voldemort, to prepare me for what¡¯s to come. And he probably knew we¡¯d try to save the stone. Instead of stopping us, he let it happen, like some sort of test. Even the mirror¡ªI reckon he made sure I found it, then taught me how it worked. It¡¯s like he was testing me to see if I could handle going up against Voldemort alone. And I did."


    "This is unbelievable," Hermione muttered, looking between us in shock. "If that¡¯s true, you could¡¯ve died, Harry!"


    "We all could¡¯ve," I said with a wry smile. Funny how Harry cottoned on to that faster than I did. Strange, too. For all his reckless bravado, the bloke had a good head on his shoulders when it counted. "And the funniest part? We didn¡¯t even need to get involved. Dumbledore said Quirrell couldn¡¯t have got the stone out of the mirror¡ªit¡¯d have trapped him there until someone caught him. If not for his injuries, he might¡¯ve been able to take it from you, Harry. If not for that, though, you¡¯d never have had the chance to fight the Dark Lord."


    "Why don¡¯t you just say his name, Ron?" Harry asked, frowning. "Dumbledore says we should always call things by their proper names. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Even Dumbledore says ¡®Voldemort.¡¯"


    "Because, Harry," I said patiently, "during the first war, his name was cursed. His followers used it to track down wizards and kill them. It¡¯s better if you don¡¯t say it outside of school¡ªunless you fancy putting innocent people in danger. Dumbledore¡¯s the most powerful wizard alive and spends most of his time in the safety of the school. The rest of us? Not so lucky."


    "Is that true?" Hermione asked, sitting up straighter. "Then you¡¯d better listen to Ron, Harry."


    "Alright," Harry agreed reluctantly, but then his face broke into a cheeky grin. "But admit it¡ªnow that it¡¯s all over, it was a brilliant adventure, wasn¡¯t it?"


    The rest of the journey was a laugh. The lads joined us, and before we knew it, time had flown by.


    Later, after they¡¯d left, I asked Harry for the Dursleys¡¯ phone number. Hermione, watching me, decided to swap numbers with him too. I gave her the number for Dean¡¯s workshop and told her I¡¯d be there every day from ten to two. She promised to ring.


    "Harry, I want you to come stay with us this summer," I said as we were getting ready to part ways. "Mum and Dad are alright with it. Dumbledore says you¡¯ll need to spend some time with the Dursleys first, but we¡¯ll keep in touch, and I can come visit you if you like."


    "Thanks, Ron," Harry said, looking genuinely touched.


    "And you should leave Hedwig and her cage with us," I suggested. "That way, she can fly to you if needed. From what you¡¯ve told me, the Dursleys aren¡¯t exactly owl lovers after that whole letter fiasco. Best not to wind them up too much, or they might not let you go anywhere."


    Finally, the train screeched to a stop, and everyone piled out onto the platform.


    "Look, Mum, it¡¯s him! Harry Potter!" came Ginny¡¯s excited squeal.


    "Oh, forgot to mention," I said with a grin, "that¡¯s my little sister. I¡¯ve been writing to her about all our adventures, so now she thinks you¡¯re a hero. Don¡¯t mind her¡ªshe¡¯s at that age where she needs someone to idolise. Last year it was me; this year it¡¯s you."


    Harry laughed awkwardly, his face going a bit red.


    "Hello, boys," Mum said, smiling warmly. "Tough year, was it?"


    "Yeah, you could say that," I chuckled, ruffling Ginny¡¯s hair. "Hey, princess."


    Ginny blushed furiously and cast a shy glance at Harry.


    "Meet my friend, Harry. And this is my little sister, Ginny."


    "Hi," Ginny whispered, barely audible, as she dropped her gaze. Girls could be funny like that¡ªI never quite got them.


    "And this is Hermione, our other friend," I added, as Hermione stepped forward.


    "Thank you for the gifts and the invitation, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said politely. "But I¡¯ve got to go now. My uncle¡¯s probably waiting."


    After saying his goodbyes, Harry headed towards the Muggle side with Hermione and me tagging along.


    "Where¡¯ve you been, boy?" came the booming, impatient voice of a massive, red-faced man in an expensive suit as we approached.


    "Erm¡­ Have a good summer, Harry," Hermione stammered nervously, clearly taken aback by the sight of Harry¡¯s grumpy relative.


    "Oh, don¡¯t worry," Harry said, smirking mischievously. "The Dursleys don¡¯t know we¡¯re not allowed to do magic during the holidays. I reckon Dudley¡¯s in for a fun time." He leaned closer to whisper, "They won¡¯t know what hit them."


    "Careful, Harry," I warned, frowning. "If you push it too far, they might stop you from calling us¡ªor worse, keep you from visiting."


    "Good point," Harry muttered, grimacing, though his mischievous grin returned almost immediately. "I¡¯ll figure something out."


    "Are you planning to test my patience all day?" growled his uncle, visibly losing his temper. Harry just winked at us before trudging off, dragging his oversized trunk behind him.


    Hermione spotted her parents in the crowd, waved a quick goodbye, and dashed off to meet them. I made my way back to my family, and we Flooed home from the station.

 Chapter 27

    This summer had been far too ordinary. I only spent two weeks with Luna, and even that felt rushed. She barely had time for me¡ªher dad had roped her into planning an expedition that was set to leave in early July, and they wouldn¡¯t be back until just a week before the new school year started. I was gutted, to say the least.


    "Dad¡¯s friend, Mr. Carlo, wrote to us," Luna explained one day, showing me a sketch of a massive beast in her scrapbook. It looked like a cross between a rhino and a whale. "He said there¡¯s been a sighting of an Explodipotomus in Africa, east of Uganda. The last time one was seen was sixty years ago."


    "But isn¡¯t that dangerous?" I ventured, a chill running down my spine at the thought of Luna wandering off to some remote corner of the world with her eccentric dad.


    "Oh, not at all," she said serenely, smiling dreamily. "It¡¯s going to be a massive expedition, with experts from all over the world. Dad¡¯s been invited as Britain¡¯s representative¡ªboth as a journalist and a rare-creature researcher. He says there used to be a nesting ground for the Wrackspurt-Horned Crumple near there. Imagine if they find one¡­"


    "I mean, I¡¯m happy for you, Luna," I admitted, unable to hide my disappointment, "but I really wanted to spend this last summer with you. You¡¯re off to Hogwarts this year, and on top of that, my family¡¯s invited Harry to stay with us at the end of the holidays."


    "I¡¯d love to spend more time with you too, Ron," she replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "But when I go to Hogwarts, Dad will be all on his own. I want to make the most of the time we have now so he won¡¯t feel too lonely once I leave." She gave me a gentle smile. "But I¡¯ll write to you. Let¡¯s not be glum¡ªwhy don¡¯t you tell me more about your adventures with Harry?"


    And so, for what felt like the hundredth time, I launched into a dramatic retelling of how we¡¯d defended the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, embellishing a few bits here and there to make it more exciting.


    "You know, I¡¯m not surprised you two became friends," Luna mused thoughtfully when I finished. "Harry¡¯s playing too, even if he doesn¡¯t quite realise it yet. The current sweeps him along, but you¡ª" she smiled at me with quiet pride "¡ªyou¡¯re already learning how to guide the flow. You¡¯re clever, Ron. But you should play as if he¡¯s the captain and you¡¯re the helmsman. That way, you¡¯ll steer exactly where you need to go." She sighed wistfully. "Your game sounds fascinating. I wish I could join in. Maybe one day."


    Lately, Luna had become obsessed with books about pirates and sea voyages, and her imagination had transformed her playroom into the deck of a grand ship. There were sails, a wheel, and scattered across the floor were maps, sextants, a brass spyglass, and all sorts of navigational oddities.


    "What about Hermione?" I teased with a grin. "She¡¯s part of the crew too."


    "Oh, she¡¯ll make a brilliant navigator someday," Luna replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "But she¡¯ll never feel the current or see it. She¡¯ll understand it, though¡ªshe can read it on the maps. Now, shall we have a snack? I¡¯m absolutely starving." She changed the subject abruptly, leaving Hermione behind as a forgotten afterthought. It struck me then¡ªwas Hermione unable to sense the flow because she was Muggle-born and too stuck in Muggle thinking?


    Playing with Luna always left me with new questions. Even the smallest thing she said was packed with meaning, and her games made me think in ways I never had before. I loved it.


    <hr>


    In the kitchen, a house-elf was bustling about. Strange creatures, house-elves. They weren¡¯t quite human but weren¡¯t entirely something else either¡ªlike a caricature brought to life, with exaggerated features for comic effect. This one wasn¡¯t wearing a pillowcase but a toga-like garment, fastened at the shoulders with knots.


    The moment we entered, the elf gave a low bow and vanished with a loud pop. I¡¯d seen her a couple of times before, but now she reminded me of Dobby.


    "Luna, can you tell me about house-elves?" I asked while we drank tea.


    "I¡¯d rather not, Ron. It¡¯s frightfully dull," Luna replied, wrinkling her nose. "They¡¯re not interesting at all, even if they are hardworking and kind. You should read about them yourself¡ªI¡¯ll lend you a book."


    The book was a slim one, and I finished it in an hour while Luna coloured star maps and plotted a course to the Land of the Fae. But instead of answering my questions, the book gave me even more to think about. That led me to read The Principles of Magical Synergy and Magical Energy: Foundations.


    Magic, as it turns out, is a form of energy born deep within the earth, near its core, from disturbances in the mantle. It flows like magma or rivers, sometimes bursting to the surface in powerful eruptions called leyline surges. These rare surges create ¡°places of power¡± where ancient wizards built sacred sites, portals, or temples, like Avalon.


    Hogwarts was built on one such place. The ambient magic from the leyline overwhelms individual magical signatures, making these areas neutral and sacred. It¡¯s also why magical illnesses heal faster there, and why students can perform spells all day without exhausting themselves. In the past, witches and wizards used these places to summon entities, craft runic artifacts, and perform feats of magic impossible today. It made me realise how critical these places are¡ªno wizard¡¯s magic alone could sustain such work.


    To contain an open source, a special stone is used to diffuse the magic, sealed with a wizard¡¯s spell. Unchecked, raw magic is destructive, attracting both light creatures like unicorns and phoenixes and dark ones like Dementors.


    More often, though, the magic doesn¡¯t breach the surface but flows close to it. These weaker sources are ideal for wizarding estates, where the energy supports wards, magical farming, and breeding magical creatures.


    The Burrow¡¯s leyline, though¡­ something felt off about it. It seemed faint, almost like it didn¡¯t belong here, yet strong enough to sustain the nearby magical forest. I resolved to ask Dad about it later.


    As for house-elves, they¡¯re incorporeal spirits formed from the surplus magic of contained sources. Binding them makes them physical¡ªhence their togas, which bear the seal of their master¡¯s family. You can only kill them with enchanted weapons in their material form; otherwise, they¡¯re immortal. Freeing an elf isn¡¯t as simple as tossing them a sock, either. The wizard has to revoke the binding, remove the family seal, and replace it with ordinary clothing. Once freed, an elf has limited time to find a new master, or their magic fades, and they return to the magical ether.


    Which meant¡­ Dobby couldn¡¯t have been helping Harry of his own accord. That was worth thinking about.


    July 3rd, I saw Luna off and found myself bored stiff. Sure, I worked in the shop from ten to two every day, but after that, I¡¯d trudge home to do absolutely nothing. Mostly, I spent my afternoons flying around under an invisibility charm, reminiscing about books I''d read and plotting out plans for the future based on them.


    It was a shame I couldn¡¯t do magic. Dad hadn¡¯t taken my wand, but he¡¯d made me promise not to use it.


    The twins, meanwhile, were utterly consumed with their experiments. I tried hanging around for a couple of days, hoping to suss out how they came up with their pranks, but I soon gave up and left them to it. They had their own language, practically talking in grunts and half-words only they could understand. Standing around and watching them muck about with cauldrons and powders wasn¡¯t exactly riveting.


    At least they hadn¡¯t asked to dip into my winnings yet. They¡¯d done well enough at Hogwarts, earning a tidy sum, and were expecting more from their Pygmy Puff sales. Mum and Dad hadn¡¯t mentioned the money, so they probably didn¡¯t know about it. In any case, it was clear the twins had been saving up throughout the school year, which was brilliant¡ªGinny¡¯s school shopping wouldn¡¯t be a strain. That said, our parents were hopeless at budgeting. Any spare Galleon that came their way was immediately spent on small luxuries and frivolities.


    Percy, unsurprisingly, was no fun either. He¡¯d barricaded himself in his room, sending Hermes back and forth with love notes to Penelope and poring over some dreary book titled How to Climb the Ladder of Power as a Prefect.


    Ginny turned out to be an unexpected headache. She was giddy with excitement about Harry¡¯s upcoming visit and kept badgering me for stories about him. I had to sit her down for a serious chat, explaining that if she acted like a lovesick twit, Harry might just bolt the first night he arrived. She seemed to get it, thankfully. Felt pretty good, being her go-to older brother for advice.


    Hermione rang the shop a couple of times, fretting about Harry. She told me she¡¯d tried calling him but got his uncle instead, who bellowed at her and hung up. Harry wasn¡¯t replying to letters either, and if the books were right, the enchanted notebook Hermione had gifted him was probably locked in a cupboard with his other things. Poor bloke hadn¡¯t thought to hide the key ahead of time. Even Hedwig returned with my letters undelivered, looking a bit worse for wear¡ªno doubt thanks to Dobby. So, the house-elf really was out and about.


    Hermione was heading off to France with her parents on the 25th and was desperate to ensure Harry was alright before then. We decided to visit him together on the 21st.


    The Grangers lived in a suburb near London, and I got there easily enough on the Knight Bus¡ªeight minutes and thirteen Sickles. From there, Hermione and I caught a regular bus to Privet Drive.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    It was Aunt Petunia who opened the door. She wasn¡¯t thrilled to see us but didn¡¯t slam it in our faces either. To my surprise, she actually called for Harry. Her husband wasn¡¯t home, and her kid was off somewhere, which helped. Hermione and I dressed like posh Muggles and were polite to a fault¡ªHermione even handed over one of her parents¡¯ clinic business cards, which seemed to smooth things over.


    When Harry appeared, I was gobsmacked. He looked even scrawnier than last time, like he¡¯d been used as a packhorse all summer. Still, he beamed at us like we¡¯d made his year¡ªpoor bloke was starved for company.


    We chatted for about an hour, mostly about trivial stuff. Petunia even let us sit in the living room, but she kicked us out before five, clearly anticipating her husband¡¯s return and wanting to avoid drama. Harry looked crushed when we left, especially after Petunia made it clear this was a one-off and she wouldn¡¯t be tolerating any more visitors.


    Hermione was near tears as I walked her to the bus stop. I promised her I¡¯d sort something out and write to her if it worked.


    The plan came to me almost immediately, but I didn¡¯t act on it for two days. When I did, I headed straight to the Grunnings office on the Knight Bus¡ªthe address was easy enough to find in the workshop¡¯s directory.


    I caught Vernon Dursley at the end of his workday, just as he was leaving for the director¡¯s car park. Predictably, he went off like a kettle.


    ¡°What in blazes are you doing loitering by my car, you little brat?¡± he bellowed, stomping toward me like an enraged bull and swinging his briefcase. ¡°Clear off, now!¡±


    ¡°Pardon me, sir, but I¡¯ve been waiting quite a while to speak with you,¡± I said, polite as you please, not budging an inch. To his credit, he didn¡¯t actually hit me with the briefcase when he got closer¡ªprobably too shocked by my nerve. He still tried to shove me away from his Ford, but froze at my next words. ¡°It¡¯s about the biggest deal of your life, sir. One that involves Mr. Mason, the prominent building magnate.¡±


    ¡°How do you¡­?¡± he stammered, suddenly off-kilter.


    ¡°I have information that someone¡¯s planning to sabotage the deal and ruin your reputation. But I know how to stop them.¡±


    ¡°I know you!¡± His eyes bulged as recognition dawned, and his face turned a blotchy purple. He jabbed a sausage-like finger at me. ¡°You¡¯re one of them! I saw you at the station with my freak of a nephew. You¡¯re from that school of yours¡ªfor crackpots and con artists.¡±


    ¡°My name¡¯s Ron, and I¡¯m a wizard, Mr. Dursley,¡± I said coolly, with just a hint of frost. ¡°Though I prefer to think of myself as a person with extraordinary abilities. Now, whether you want my information is entirely up to you. No one¡¯s forcing your hand.¡±


    His face was a riot of emotions¡ªhe clearly wanted to boot me across the car park, but the businessman in him wasn¡¯t willing to ignore what I¡¯d said.


    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± I said with a shrug, turning to leave.


    ¡°Wait! You¡ªRon, was it?¡± he called after me, as expected. I smirked to myself but wiped it off before turning back.


    ¡°Well?¡± he snapped. ¡°Out with it, boy. Say your piece and then bugger off. You don¡¯t exactly look trustworthy¡ªnothing like your lot usually does.¡±


    ¡°Not all¡­ erm¡­ ¡®special¡¯ folk are spawns of the devil, Mr. Dursley,¡± I said with a polite smile.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the deal, then?¡± he asked, switching to a businesslike tone and leaning his briefcase against the car bonnet. ¡°Out with it.¡±


    ¡°Your nephew¡¯s quite famous in our world, Mr. Dursley. Most people are glad to have him at school, but there are some who¡¯d rather he wasn¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°To hell with the nephew¡ªhow do you know about the deal?¡± he interrupted with a scowl. ¡°I haven¡¯t even told my wife yet.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ everyone¡¯s got their own talents. Mine happen to include prophetic dreams,¡± I lied. Not like he could prove otherwise. ¡°Best not to get into the details.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, you don¡¯t,¡± he shot back, straightening indignantly. ¡°Why the devil should I trust you? Spill everything you saw.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I shrugged. ¡°On the thirty-first of July, you¡¯ll be hosting Mr. Mason and his wife at a dinner party. Everything will seem to go swimmingly, but then some¡­ creature sent to target Harry will cause a magical prank. Your guests will see it as an insult¡ªan attempt to mock them. I don¡¯t think I need to spell out what that¡¯ll mean for your firm.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill that little brat,¡± Dursley muttered suddenly, slamming a meaty fist onto the car. ¡°It¡¯s all his fault. That cursed freak¡­ Soon as I get home, I¡¯ll throw him out on his ear and be done with it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you, Harry won¡¯t be to blame,¡± I said, my patience wearing thin as I frowned at his overreaction.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he retorted with a venomous glare. ¡°That boy¡¯s nothing but trouble and losses. I warned Petunia we should¡¯ve never taken that little freak in.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be unwise to anger magical folk, sir,¡± I said coolly, narrowing my eyes. ¡°Believe me, if they wanted, they could force Harry back on you. You had to take him in this summer, after all, didn¡¯t you?¡± I added pointedly, holding his gaze.


    Dursley flushed red, huffing like a kettle about to boil over. For all his bluster, though, he wasn¡¯t stupid. He calmed himself quicker than I expected. My guess was the wizards were paying him handsomely for Harry¡¯s ¡®care¡¯ and stayed out of the actual upbringing. Maybe that¡¯s why he didn¡¯t want Harry going off to Hogwarts. Odd, though¡ªhating magic on the one hand but preferring Harry to stay home the rest of the year. Only money could reconcile such contradictions in a man like Dursley.


    ¡°What do I have to do to stop this?¡± he finally asked, forcing the words out like they physically pained him.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple, sir,¡± I said. ¡°My family invited Harry to stay with us for the summer. For some reason, though, he has to spend a bit of time here. My parents were planning to collect him on the second of August, but I¡¯ll come for him on the thirtieth of July. Without Harry, this little stunt won¡¯t happen, and your deal will go off without a hitch.¡±


    ¡°This all smells fishy to me,¡± he said, narrowing his eyes. ¡°If that¡¯s true, why didn¡¯t you just knock on the door and take the little pest away straightaway?¡±


    ¡°Because the one keeping tabs on him mustn¡¯t suspect me too soon. If they do, they¡¯ll just cook up another prank I don¡¯t know about. And I assume you¡¯re not keen on more losses.¡±


    ¡°Hmph¡­ What¡¯s the plan, then?¡± Dursley asked, his tone serious now. ¡°I must be mad, taking help from one of you lot.¡±


    ¡°The main thing is, no one must know when I¡¯m coming for Harry,¡± I said simply. ¡°On the thirtieth, first thing in the morning, send Harry to the shops¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter for what. While he¡¯s out, pack all his things in the car. When he gets back, bundle him in and drop him off at the old bus stop just past the park. I¡¯ll meet him there at ten sharp. Then you can forget about him till next summer¡ªand start packing for Majorca.¡±


    ¡°You know about that too?¡± he asked, staring at me in surprise. ¡°Fine. But if you¡¯re lying¡­ I¡¯ll have Harry¡¯s hide.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be so hasty,¡± I said without a trace of offence. ¡°Magic¡¯s not all bad, sir. It could even do wonders for your business.¡±


    ¡°Oh, spare me,¡± he sneered, though he seemed calmer now. ¡°Your lot¡¯s hocus-pocus only brings trouble.¡±


    ¡°Does it, though?¡± I smirked. ¡°Say, if you had a wizard at a meeting who could tell if a client was lying or planning to swindle you. Or an order form enchanted to make clients choose your company over others. Maybe even a cologne with a tiny magical additive to make people favour you. Wizards have all sorts of tricks to help a business thrive.¡±


    ¡°And Potter can do all that?¡± he asked eagerly, his eyes gleaming with greed.


    ¡°Not yet¡ªhe¡¯s still learning,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°But if you didn¡¯t take his books away during the summer and actually let him study¡­ and if you treated him better overall, he¡¯d likely help you out once he¡¯s older and done with school. Harry¡¯s the sort who repays kindness.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you lecture me, you little snot,¡± Dursley growled as he climbed into his car. But his expression was pensive. ¡°See you Friday.¡±


    ¡°At ten sharp, sir,¡± I called after him. ¡°And not a word to anyone.¡±


    He grunted irritably, started the car, and drove off, looking oddly pleased with himself.


    The operation, ¡°Free Potter,¡± went off without a hitch. I arrived at the designated spot just before ten and parked myself on a bench, waiting for Dursley¡¯s car. The old bus stop and this stretch of the park had been abandoned ever since the town expanded in the other direction. Hardly anyone passed through here anymore, as it was the longer route to London.


    At nine-fifty, Dursley¡¯s Ford pulled up. The moment Harry spotted me, his eyes widened in shock, his face lighting up with a mix of joy and disbelief. We both watched as his uncle unceremoniously unloaded his trunk and other belongings straight onto the pavement. Three minutes later, Dursley was gone without a backward glance.


    Before Harry could even speak, I whipped out my wand. A three-decker purple bus materialized out of thin air, standing tall and ready to take us to safety.


    "Harry, keep quiet. We''ll talk later," I warned, plonking my baseball cap on his head.


    By the time we¡¯d hauled his things onto the bus, Harry looked like a right dolt¡ªmouth slightly open, eyes wide as saucers. All he needed was a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth to complete the picture.


    "Oh, it¡¯s you again, Ginger," the conductor said with a cheeky grin. "Didn¡¯t I just drop you off a minute ago?"


    "Yeah, well, had to pick up my mate," I replied, handing over the fare. "Two to Ottery St Catchpole. That¡¯s the abandoned road about half a mile from the old bridge."


    "Righto," Stanley said with a shrug. "Though it¡¯ll take a bit longer¡ªgot to drop a wizard off in Tinworth first."


    "No worries, we¡¯re not in a rush," I said casually. "Just make sure the sticking charms on the seats are active. And secure the luggage; there¡¯s a broom in there."


    "What¡¯s with your mate¡ªhe mute or something?" Stanley asked, shifting his gum to the other cheek as he lazily flicked his wand to refresh the seat charms. He gave Harry a bored once-over. "Quiet little thing, isn¡¯t he?"


    "Muggle-born," I explained, motioning for Harry to sit. "First time on the bus." I dropped into the seat next to him, and the charm instantly glued us in place. I smiled to reassure him when he looked a bit alarmed.


    "Ah," Stan said with a knowing smirk. "Well, happy travels then, mate. Oi, Ernie, let¡¯s get moving!"


    The ride only lasted fifteen minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. The bus hurtled around like it had a mind of its own, tossing us about despite the sticking charms. Finally, it screeched to a halt, and we tumbled out onto the ground in a heap.


    "That was¡­" Harry breathed, his voice filled with awe as he sprawled there, too stunned to stand. "Ron, what¡¯s going on? And my uncle¡­"


    "Nothing much," I said with a grin, pulling him to his feet and grabbing the broom while he dragged his trunk. "I told you I¡¯d have you over, didn¡¯t I? Gave your uncle a ring and sorted it out. Now, come on¡ªlet¡¯s pick up the pace. Mum¡¯s probably worrying. Didn¡¯t tell her I was heading to fetch you. They were planning to get you next week, but I got bored just sitting around."


    "Thanks, Ron," Harry said, beaming as his face flushed with excitement. "I was about ready to start howling from the boredom at the Dursleys¡¯."


    Walking along the empty road in the heat, with the river glinting beside us and the buzz of crickets in the air, felt surprisingly fun. We chatted about nothing in particular until the trees on the right gave way to reveal our ¡°palace.¡±


    "Here we are¡ªthe Burrow," I said grandly, spreading my arms as we approached. "Welcome home."

 Chapter 28

    We didn¡¯t even make it to the house before chaos erupted. Fred and George came charging out onto the porch, chasing a squealing, giggling Ginny. They were spraying her with something from a bottle, and a cloud of colourful butterflies swirled around her, tangling in her hair and trying to land on her face.


    "Blimey, am I seeing things? Is that Harry?" one of the twins¡ªFred, I think¡ªpaused in surprise.


    George stopped tormenting Ginny and turned to look. "Well, knock me over with a gargoyle, Fred, it is Harry," he shouted gleefully, exchanging a look with his brother. "And look¡ªhe¡¯s even with our little Ronniekins. Oi, Harry! Good to see you!" they hollered in unison and started towards us, forgetting all about Ginny.


    Ginny, meanwhile, batted away the butterflies, finally clearing her view. Spotting Harry, she let out a squeak and stumbled back into the house, shouting, "Mum, Mum! Harry¡¯s here!"


    "Harry? Which Harry, dear?" came Mum¡¯s voice from the kitchen window.


    "Harry Potter, who else?" Ginny exclaimed indignantly. The curtain twitched, and Mum¡¯s astonished face appeared for a moment before vanishing.


    "Good to see you, Harry!" George said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Now we¡¯ve got someone decent to play Quidditch with."


    "And you," Fred grumbled, turning to me and giving me a playful cuff on the head, "ruined everything as usual." He snatched Harry¡¯s trunk while George grabbed his broomstick out of my hands. The two of them headed leisurely for the house. "We were going to nick Dad¡¯s car and rescue you from Privet Drive ourselves tomorrow night," Fred explained to a bewildered Harry.


    "Yeah, but now that brilliant plan¡¯s gone down the drain," George added with mock disappointment.


    "Like that¡¯d stop you from nicking the Ford and going for a joyride anyway," I muttered.


    "Oi, don¡¯t even joke," George shot back, grimacing. "We always need a proper excuse for these things, so Mum doesn¡¯t lose her nut entirely."


    Just then, Mum came hurrying out, wiping her hands on her apron, with Ginny peeking shyly from behind her.


    "Harry, dear, what a lovely surprise," Mum beamed, bustling down the steps and pulling Harry into a warm hug. "Come in, come in! I¡¯ll get some food sorted for you right away. You¡¯ve had breakfast, I¡¯m sure, but it must¡¯ve been ages ago. A little more won¡¯t hurt. Ron, you too! Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve eaten properly this morning."


    "Oi, what about us, Mum?" the twins whined in mock indignation, clinging to her apron and pulling exaggerated faces.


    "You two only just left the table, you cheeky rascals!" she scolded, waving a dishcloth at them. Then, giving Harry a gentle nudge towards the house, she added, "In you go, dear. Let¡¯s get you sorted."


    It was hilarious watching Harry discreetly eye the kitchen, clearly fascinated by the magical odds and ends scattered about. He was especially taken with the knife that floated over the breadboard, slicing away on its own.


    "We¡¯ve been worried sick about you, Harry," Mum chattered as she bustled around the kitchen. "Just last night, Arthur and I decided we¡¯d come fetch you on Wednesday. But what a pleasant surprise to see you here already!"


    "Sorry for the bother, Mrs. Weasley," Harry mumbled, looking awkwardly at his plate.


    "Oh, nonsense, love," Mum said, ruffling his hair affectionately. She placed a heaping plate of sausages, mashed potatoes, and gravy in front of him. Another went to me, and we set to eating while she slathered butter on rolls for us.


    "By the way, Ron," she said suddenly, narrowing her eyes at me, "how did you get here? Don¡¯t tell me you flew off on a broomstick to fetch him!"


    "Mum, relax," I said, rolling my eyes and taking a sip of tea. "I just called the Knight Bus. It¡¯s not a big deal."


    "Ron, your father told you not to use your wand!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "And it¡¯s dangerous!"


    "What¡¯s dangerous about it?" I shrugged. "I didn¡¯t even cast a spell. Just got on the bus, got off, and here we are. I¡¯m not seven anymore, Mum, and I didn¡¯t break any rules."


    "Oh, Ron, how quickly you¡¯ve grown up," Mum sighed, her voice going a bit teary as she kissed me on the top of my head. I squirmed for show, but secretly, it felt nice.


    I caught Harry watching Mum with this sort of quiet wonder. It made me realise something: sure, I didn¡¯t have a vault full of gold or the fame of being the Boy Who Lived, but I had family. Real, loving family. And that was worth more than any of it.


    "Oi, you done in there yet?" Fred called from the window.


    "Yeah, hurry up!" George added. "We want to play Quidditch!"


    "Quidditch?!" Mum cut in sharply, hands on her hips. "What did I say?"


    "After a meal, it¡¯s good to rest¡ªlet the stomach settle," the twins chimed in unison.


    "Leave the boys alone," Mum said firmly. "You two can deal with the garden gnomes instead. I tripped over one yesterday by the raspberries and nearly went flying."


    "Oh, Mum¡­" Fred groaned dramatically. "That¡¯s so boring."


    "Can I help with the gnomes, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, suddenly perking up.


    "Of course, dear," Mum said, smiling warmly, "if you¡¯re not too tired from the journey. Ron, show him the blackberry bushes by the fence first. Pick some while you¡¯re at it¡ªthey¡¯re good for you." She steered us to the door. "Ginny, you stay here¡ªI¡¯ve got an important task for you," she added over her shoulder.


    As the door swung shut, I glanced at Harry, already grinning at the idea of gnomes. Life at the Burrow was definitely going to be an adventure for him.


    Harry¡¯s reaction to the gnomes and the way we evicted them was almost identical to mine the first time. Watching him gawk in utter disbelief was priceless. He even tried spinning one around, but it nipped him, and that was the end of his enthusiasm for the task.


    After that, we spent a good half hour scrambling through the blackberry bushes until Mum called us in for tea. We returned absolutely covered in juice stains, with blue tongues and fingers to match, but grinning like a pair of lunatics. Mum tidied us up with a quick spell and wouldn¡¯t even let the twins tease us.


    Following a few slices of sweet pie and a couple of cups of tea, Harry looked half-asleep, so we all piled into the twins¡¯ room and passed out until nearly dinnertime. Mum asked Harry where he¡¯d like to sleep while he was staying with us¡ªwhether he wanted a room of his own in Charlie¡¯s old space or to bunk with me. Harry chose to stick with me, so in the evening, once Dad got home, he sorted out an extra bed for my room. For the time being, though, we¡¯d taken over the twins¡¯ space, and they didn¡¯t seem to mind one bit.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Before dinner, we managed to sneak in a bit of flying. I couldn¡¯t resist showing off my broom¡ªnot just the fact that I had one now, but that I¡¯d bought it with my own hard-earned cash. Harry was properly gobsmacked. Then we played a game where we split into teams and tossed an apple back and forth, trying to keep it from hitting the ground. Harry ended up paired with Ginny, and they smashed it, winning the game hands-down. Everyone was very pleased.


    Playing alongside Harry seemed to do Ginny a world of good¡ªshe barely blushed around him now and didn¡¯t seem nearly as nervous. She still had that starry-eyed look whenever she glanced his way, but at least she wasn¡¯t falling over herself anymore.


    Dad wasn¡¯t too fussed about me taking matters into my own hands to fetch Harry, though he did give me a private talking-to later that night. He gently reminded me that I should¡¯ve let him know beforehand, as even temporarily taking someone from their family required following a few rules. When I explained that I¡¯d cleared it with Harry¡¯s relatives over the phone and that Uncle Vernon had even driven him over, Dad relaxed. He actually praised me for being resourceful, though it didn¡¯t stop him from grilling me for ages about how telephones worked¡ªsome things never change.


    Life at The Burrow carried on in a cheerful chaos. Everyone seemed determined to make Harry¡¯s visit memorable. Dad fitted his broom with the same charms he¡¯d put on mine, so we spent hours zipping around the fields. He also took us to a magical beach in Ilfracombe. Even though it was up north and we lived in the south, Dad had tinkered with the car so the trip only took about forty minutes. Of course, Mum didn¡¯t know the car was enchanted¡ªshe thought it was just ¡°patched up¡± and would always fret that it would fall apart mid-journey. To keep the peace, Dad would drive us to the main road before taking off into the sky. Mum would¡¯ve lost her mind if she knew the truth.


    Every evening before dinner, we had a Quidditch match. I even taught Harry how to ride a bike! He¡¯d always wanted one but never got one from the Dursleys, so he¡¯d been dying to try. You should¡¯ve seen his face¡ªhe looked like Christmas had come early. Dad even transfigured a second bike so we could ride together, though the spell only lasted about an hour, so we stuck to short routes.


    While I was at work in the mornings, the twins kept Harry busy, taking him to the forest or down to the pond. I didn¡¯t skive off my job despite Harry¡¯s visit¡ªGill at the workshop had started giving me more interesting tasks, and the pay had gone up a bit. I wasn¡¯t about to turn that down. Harry didn¡¯t seem to mind, though he did ask to tag along once. I turned him down flat¡ªif Dobbie showed up and smashed something, I¡¯d be in trouble for the rest of my life. No thanks.


    A week later, we got a letter from Hermione. A massive raven from the International Postal Service delivered it in the morning. She was still in France with her parents but said they¡¯d be back soon and were planning a trip to Diagon Alley on Wednesday. She suggested we join them. Hermione already knew Harry was staying with us¡ªI¡¯d called her the day after he arrived to tell her the whole story, just to put her mind at ease.


    By lunchtime, school owls had delivered our Hogwarts letters.


    ¡°Blimey,¡± Fred muttered, looking through Percy¡¯s letter, then mine, before snatching Ginny¡¯s right out of her hands. She jumped, trying to grab it back. ¡°Seven Lockhart books on every list? For every year?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll cost a fortune,¡± George said, grimacing as Mum and Dad exchanged worried glances.


    ¡°Not to worry,¡± I interjected. ¡°Why would we bother with all that rubbish? We¡¯ll get one set for the lot of us. Classes don¡¯t overlap, and I can always nick Harry¡¯s copy for homework.¡± I grinned, and Harry nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Spot on,¡± the twins chorused, their eyes gleaming with mischief as they looked expectantly at Mum. Clearly, they had plans for the money saved.


    ¡°Well, I suppose that makes sense¡­¡± Mum said, her voice uncertain as she glanced at Dad.


    ¡°Quite right,¡± Dad agreed. ¡°No point cluttering the house with unnecessary books. One set will do fine¡ªor maybe two if there¡¯s some left in the budget.¡±


    That Wednesday, we all lined up at the fireplace after breakfast.


    ¡°Arthur, don¡¯t let me forget to pick up more Floo Powder¡ªit¡¯s nearly run out,¡± Mum said, handing the pot of powder to Dad. Harry watched, wide-eyed, as each of us disappeared into the green flames.


    ¡°Your turn now, Harry,¡± Mum said, leaning down with a warm smile. ¡°Arthur will be waiting for you on the other side.¡±


    ¡°Mum, he¡¯s never used Floo Powder before,¡± I chimed in.


    ¡°What? Oh, love,¡± Mum cooed, her voice full of concern. ¡°It¡¯s dead simple. You toss a pinch of the powder at your feet and clearly say Diagon Alley. Let¡¯s have you practice without the powder first.¡±


    Harry, looking like he was marching to his doom, hitched up his trousers and bit his lip. Then, with all the solemnity of someone about to face a firing squad, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace.


    ¡°Diagon Alley,¡± he said carefully, his voice steady. He hesitated, then repeated, louder this time, ¡°Diagon Alley,¡± before tossing the powder at his feet and vanishing in a flash of green flames.


    A minute later, I joined him, and thank Merlin, he¡¯d actually landed in the right place.


    ¡°Well? How was it?¡± I smirked as I dusted myself off. Mum, meanwhile, had already set to work, brushing soot off us with quick, efficient swipes.


    ¡°Flying¡¯s better,¡± Harry muttered, managing a wry grin. We shared a knowing look.


    ¡°Oh, mate, that¡¯s nothing,¡± George piped up. ¡°Apparating¡¯s worse, they say. Makes you feel like your insides are being turned out.¡±


    ¡°Not for a while yet, though,¡± I reassured Harry when he looked downright alarmed.


    ¡°Right, off we go!¡± Mum said brightly once we were all cleaned up. Together, we set off down the bustling street toward Gringotts.


    ¡°Ron! Harry!¡± came Hermione¡¯s excited voice. She was just stepping out of the bank with her parents, who were sticking close behind her, looking well out of place. Can¡¯t say I blamed them¡ªpeople were staring at them like they had Muggle stamped on their foreheads. Dad, on the other hand, was positively glowing.


    ¡°Hello, hello!¡± Dad greeted them enthusiastically, bounding over. ¡°Muggles! Real, live Muggles!¡± he exclaimed, eagerly shaking a rather bewildered Mr. Granger¡¯s hand. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever been more embarrassed, not even that time at Gildon¡¯s workshop.


    ¡°Pleasure to meet you,¡± Mum said stiffly, giving them a curt nod but not moving an inch closer. It always amazed me how differently she and Dad treated Muggles. ¡°Arthur, we really ought to get going¡ªcan¡¯t stand about chatting; we¡¯ve got shopping to do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, dear,¡± Dad agreed, though he was clearly reluctant to tear himself away. ¡°But we must meet up later! Oh, Muggles, Molly! Real Muggles!¡± he kept repeating as he followed Mum into the bank, dragging Harry along. I just had time to remind Harry to grab enough gold for some new clothes.


    ¡°Sorry about my dad,¡± I said awkwardly once they were gone. ¡°He¡¯s, uh, very¡­ sociable. And curious. Bet he¡¯ll pester you about plugs and electricity before the day¡¯s out. I¡¯m Ron Weasley, by the way¡ªHermione¡¯s classmate.¡±


    ¡°Pleasure to meet you,¡± Mr. Granger said with a smile, exchanging an amused glance with his wife. ¡°Hermione¡¯s told us quite a bit about you¡ªand Harry Potter.¡±


    ¡°Dad!¡± Hermione groaned, blushing furiously. She quickly turned the subject. ¡°Oh, Ron, look¡ªit¡¯s Hagrid!¡±


    The gamekeeper was striding toward us, parting the crowd like a ship through water.


    ¡°Hello, Hermione. Ron,¡± Hagrid greeted us with a broad grin. ¡°Where¡¯s Harry?¡±


    ¡°In the bank,¡± I answered, glancing at the Grangers, who looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole. Can¡¯t say I blamed them¡ªgiants, goblins, and all.


    ¡°Oh, hey, Hagrid!¡± Harry called cheerfully as he jogged over. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here? Don¡¯t reckon you need schoolbooks,¡± he teased, but Hagrid didn¡¯t seem to catch the joke.


    ¡°Slug infestation,¡± Hagrid replied gravely. ¡°They¡¯ve gone and ruined all me cabbages, so I¡¯ve come to get some poison.¡± He glanced up, spotting Mum and the rest of my family emerging from the bank, and suddenly looked like he couldn¡¯t get away fast enough. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be off. See you at school!¡±


    Odd. It almost seemed like he was afraid of Mum, judging by how quickly he scarpered.


    ¡°Right then, kids,¡± Mum said briskly, glaring after Hagrid before pulling a handful of lists and coins from her bag. ¡°Here¡¯s what you need and some money. Meet back at Flourish and Blotts in an hour¡ªno later! We¡¯ll never get through it all otherwise. And don¡¯t be late,¡± she added sternly before whisking Ginny away into the crowd.


    We split up. The twins ran off with Dad, while a sulking Percy tagged along with us. Not that it lasted¡ªhe spotted Penelope Clearwater in the crowd and vanished faster than a disillusionment charm. That left Harry and me to pop into a shop and finally get him some proper clothes.

 Chapter 29

    Shopping took far longer than I¡¯d expected. Potter had only ever worn his cousin¡¯s cast-offs and hadn¡¯t a clue about clothes. He didn¡¯t even know what he wanted. Fortunately, Madam Malkin knew her stuff. After asking a few questions, she quickly pulled together everything he needed and even gave him a catalogue so he could order more later if needed.


    Next stop was The Dancing Heel for shoes. That took some time too, though at least you didn¡¯t have to try on every pair¡ªwizarding shoes adjusted themselves to your size.


    After that, we dashed about picking up missing potion ingredients and got held up in the stationery shop for a bit. I kept my purchases to the bare minimum this year. There wasn¡¯t much money to go around; Fred and George needed new Quidditch gear, Percy got new robes and clothes, and Ginny¡ªwell, she needed an entire wardrobe from scratch.


    It¡¯s no wonder Ron felt so bitter about being poor. As the youngest of six brothers, he was the one who bore the brunt of it. This year, I¡¯d have to make do with robes that were a bit short in the sleeves, but I decided to save my money. I was growing fast, anyway. One year in ill-fitting robes wouldn¡¯t kill me.


    While in the stationery shop, I picked out a lovely pink journal for Ginny with an embossed fairy on the cover. For Luna, I bought a phoenix feather quill holder that looked like a carved wooden mouthpiece adorned with stones and beads. I also picked up a magical hairbrush and some enchanted hair ties for her. Yeah, I could¡¯ve sold the phoenix feather for three Galleons to Ollivander, but selling gifts from magical creatures didn¡¯t feel right.


    Harry gave me a curious look when I nipped into The Fashionable Witch and came out with a few enchanted hair clips for Ginny and Luna. By the time we were done, we¡¯d missed the excitement entirely.


    When we reached Flourish and Blotts, the door swung open to reveal Hagrid, who was dragging a scowling Lucius Malfoy and a flustered Arthur behind him.


    ¡°Calm yourselves, the lot of you,¡± Hagrid rumbled, shaking both men by the scruffs of their robes like a couple of unruly kids. He let them go reluctantly. ¡°Honestly, you¡¯re worse than first-years.¡± He shook his head, muttered something about grown men behaving like children, and squeezed back inside the shop.


    Malfoy straightened up, trying to look dignified, though the shiner under his eye ruined the effect. Moments later, Draco emerged, looking rather disheveled, as though he¡¯d fought his way through a crowd to get outside. He glanced at us briefly, his face a mix of embarrassment and disdain, before sauntering over to his father. Without a word, Lucius turned, and the two of them swept off down the street.


    ¡°Ah, Ron, Harry, you missed the best bit!¡± Dad called us over, looking like a kid who¡¯d just pulled off the best prank of his life. There was a nasty split on his lip, but his eyes were gleaming with pride. He¡¯d probably been dreaming of this moment for years. Before he could start boasting, Mum stormed over, her face like thunder.


    ¡°What a disgrace, Arthur!¡± she hissed, ignoring us completely. ¡°What kind of example are you setting for the children?¡±


    ¡°Er¡­ I¡¯ll just nip inside to get the textbooks,¡± Harry muttered to me before slipping away into the shop.


    ¡°And what do you think Gilderoy Lockhart will make of this?¡± Mum went on, her voice a mix of horror and exasperation. Dad, meanwhile, looked entirely unrepentant, though he was doing his best to look contrite.


    ¡°Actually, Mum, Lockhart was so pleased he signed our books personally,¡± George chimed in.


    ¡°Yeah, and he told the reporter to make sure the fight got into the article¡ªit¡¯ll boost his popularity, he said,¡± added Fred.


    ¡°What? Let me see those,¡± Mum exclaimed, snatching the books and forgetting all about Dad. Her face softened as she noticed the grand flourish of Lockhart¡¯s signature. ¡°Oh, how marvellous! What a generous man. You¡¯d best take care of these books, you lot. If you so much as tear a page¡­¡±


    But before she could go on, Dad sneezed. Mum¡¯s gaze snapped back to him, her eyes narrowing. She clearly remembered she wasn¡¯t done telling him off. Poor bloke probably would¡¯ve copped it right then and there if Hermione hadn¡¯t appeared with her parents. Ginny followed shortly after, with Harry trailing behind, looking a bit red-faced and out of sorts.


    ¡°Here, Ginny,¡± Harry said, sounding slightly out of breath. He handed Dad a stack of books. ¡°Lockhart gave me these, but I already bought my own.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Harry, dear, you¡¯re so thoughtful!¡± Mum beamed, pulling him into a hug. Ginny flushed bright red, mumbling her thanks under her breath. Not that anyone could hear her over Mum¡¯s enthusiastic praise.


    ¡°Shall we get going?¡± Dad suggested, spotting Percy making his way toward us. ¡°We¡¯re blocking the doorway.¡±


    Everyone perked up at that and set off noisily up the street. Harry fell into step beside me, muttering under his breath about how Lockhart had made him pose for pictures.


    Of course, any plans for a cafe stop were abandoned. The Grangers looked thoroughly rattled and eager to leave. Even Dad couldn¡¯t salvage the conversation¡ªit all fizzled out into awkward silence.


    At The Leaky Cauldron, we said our goodbyes to Hermione and her parents, then Flooed back home.


    The rest of the holidays passed in good spirits. The fight was soon forgotten, though Mum kept the paper where it was reported as a keepsake.


    Lockhart spun the story to make it sound like Dad and Malfoy had come to blows over one of his signed books, which Harry had supposedly already claimed. The part where Malfoy landed a hit didn¡¯t make it into the paper, but the shot of Dad walloping him with a massive tome did. Mum might¡¯ve pretended to be cross with Dad, but I reckon deep down, she was proud of her Gryffindor lion.


    That same evening, after dinner, I grabbed the gifts and headed to Ginny¡¯s room.


    ¡°Is that you, Ron? Come in,¡± she said with a warm smile, stepping aside to let me in. ¡°Did you need something?¡±


    ¡°Just wanted to congratulate my little sister on getting into Hogwarts,¡± I grinned and pulled out the bag. ¡°Here, enjoy.¡±


    Ginny eagerly tore off the wrapping and froze, staring at the contents in awe. Her eyes lit up with gratitude, and she let out an excited squeal before throwing her arms around me. She didn¡¯t linger on the hug, though, quickly diving into the bag to examine her gifts. Out of nowhere, she pulled a glittery silver feather quill with fluffy pink plumage tucked inside the spine of a book¡ªI hadn¡¯t even noticed it was there.


    ¡°Thank you, Ron!¡± she gushed, flipping through pages filled with some girly moving illustrations. ¡°This is my favourite¡ªFairy Ollinsa from The Magical Adventures comic! How did you know I love her?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re my only sister, aren¡¯t you? Who else would know what you like?¡± I lied smoothly. No way I¡¯d admit to just asking the shopkeeper what was trending with girls and buying whatever they recommended.


    ¡°Thanks, Ron. I¡¯ve been saving up for this journal, but I didn¡¯t have enough¡ªa whole Galleon! And these clips are so pretty.¡±


    ¡°By the way, Ginny,¡± I cut in before her thanks overwhelmed me, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t happen to have seen my journal, would you? It¡¯s black, a bit worn. I bought it but reckon it ended up in your cauldron by mistake. Could you have a look?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she nodded eagerly, pointing at a chair by the window. ¡°I haven¡¯t unpacked it yet.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Exactly what I was counting on, I thought as I rummaged through her schoolbooks.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Ginny asked, handing me a soft black notebook with silver filigree corners on the cover.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± I confirmed after spotting the owner¡¯s initials embossed on the back. ¡°Cheers.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Ron,¡± she suddenly sniffled, burying her face in my shirt. ¡°You had to buy yourself a second-hand one because of me.¡±


    ¡°Oi, what¡¯s all this about?¡± I asked, taken aback. ¡°Think about it¡ªwhy¡¯d I need a brand-new notebook for jotting down formulas? I¡¯ll only use it for a year, then buy another one. Don¡¯t cry, Gin.¡±


    On my way back to my room, I kept thinking about her. Ginny really was a sensitive and kind-hearted girl. It seemed poverty got to her in its own way too, even though, outwardly, it looked like she didn¡¯t go without. Still, it must be tough on a girl, always settling for what¡¯s cheaper, even if it¡¯s new. Lucky I¡¯m a bloke, and not twelve anymore. Still, I couldn¡¯t help wondering¡ªwhere did all our family¡¯s money go?


    I stashed the journal in my school bag for now¡ªit had protective runes, so no one would nick it¡ªbut I didn¡¯t fancy lugging it around.


    I¡¯d moved Scabbers into Charlie¡¯s old room the day before¡ªno one used it anyway. If the diary was a Horcrux, I didn¡¯t want Wormtail sniffing around. He had the Dark Mark, so who knew what he might sense? Plus, I didn¡¯t want him eavesdropping on my chats with Harry, especially when he kept bringing up the Philosopher¡¯s Stone and You-Know-Who.


    It was three days before I finally got around to the journal. I¡¯d come home early on purpose¡ªHarry, the twins, and Ginny had already gone off to the beach, Dad was at work, and Mum was busy with her own tasks, leaving me undisturbed.


    What can I say? For starters, it wasn¡¯t Muggle-made. The paper was enchanted parchment, and the leather cover was magical too, even though it¡¯d been bought in a Muggle stationer¡¯s shop on Vauxhall Road in London. How¡¯d a magical item end up there? Maybe during the war, they sold them off like at a car boot sale? Anyway, it didn¡¯t matter now.


    Second, there was no dark magic about it. None at all. It felt like a magical artefact, sure, but nothing sinister. After years of training with Luna and being around her house, I¡¯d gotten good at sensing that sort of thing. How else would I manage ¡°the Path¡±?


    And there weren¡¯t any enchantments or curses on it either¡ªjust an ordinary notebook. Maybe it would activate if someone wrote in it? Still, I couldn¡¯t figure out if it was a Horcrux or just a charmed trinket. Either way, I decided not to take any risks. I¡¯d ask Luna when she got back if she knew how to hide something magical so no one could find it. Destroying it wasn¡¯t an option yet, so I¡¯d need to sort that too.


    A week later, Harry gave me a right shock. I came home from work to find him in bed in the middle of the day¡ªhis leg in a splint. Apparently, he¡¯d taken a tumble off his bike and broken it. Good thing it happened near home; the twins saw him fall, and Dad, who had the day off, quickly got him to St. Mungo¡¯s. They¡¯d dosed him up with Skele-Gro and a calming draught, so he was out cold until the next morning.


    The following day, I skipped work. I planned to get a haircut and pop into a few Muggle shops. If my robes were old, at least I could stock up on some decent clothes and sweets.


    Harry decided to tag along, which I didn¡¯t mind. But he seemed off¡ªtoo quiet for him¡ªand kept apologising about the bike. I figured he felt bad for causing trouble. He¡¯s stuck on this idea that he¡¯s a burden¡ªyears of Dursleys hammering that into him.


    I suggested he get a haircut too, and after some hesitation, he agreed. He even asked me to exchange some Galleons for Muggle money. Said he wanted to buy sweets and maybe something else, just to shop like a regular kid. The Dursleys only ever gave him enough money to stick to their lists, and he wanted the freedom to buy what he liked. So, I swapped him fifty pounds¡ªten Galleons wouldn¡¯t make much difference to me.


    He kept going on about paying me back for the bike, but I told him not to bother¡ªDad had already fixed it.


    ¡°How d¡¯you even manage to fall off it?¡± I teased, laughing.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t me. I had help,¡± Harry said suddenly, looking at me with a serious expression. It was clear he¡¯d been wanting to talk about it but hadn¡¯t dared.


    ¡°Yeah? Who?¡± I asked, startled. Surely not Dobby? Had he meddled again?


    "I first heard a sort of popping sound behind me, like the backfire from an exhaust pipe," Harry began, his voice quiet but steady as we sat on a fallen tree by the river. This was the spot where I¡¯d found my bike ages ago. "Thought it was a car, so I stepped to the side. But when I turned around, the road was empty. Then I heard a voice¡ªsqueaky, like a kid¡¯s¡ªand saw something in the bushes. That¡¯s when I spotted¡­ it."


    He glanced at me for reassurance before continuing.


    "It stepped out of the bush. Only came up to about my waist, with these massive eyes and ears like great flapping bat wings."


    "Did it say who it was?" I asked, already knowing the answer.


    "Said its name was Dobby, a house-elf." Harry hesitated, as though expecting me to laugh at him. "You believe me, don¡¯t you, Ron? I¡¯m not making this up!"


    "Course I do," I said quickly, wanting to put him at ease. Poor bloke looked like he thought I¡¯d cart him off to St. Mungo¡¯s for a check-up. "I¡¯ve seen house-elves before. Didn¡¯t it strike you as odd, though? Seeing something like that out of nowhere?"


    "Not really," Harry admitted, looking a bit sheepish. "I mean, I don¡¯t know what sort of creatures live in your lot¡¯s world. You¡¯ve got gnomes and a ghoul in your attic, so why not this? And it didn¡¯t seem dangerous¡ªmore like¡­ I dunno, pitiful."


    "Fair enough," I said with a shrug. "What happened next?"


    "Well," Harry said, shifting on the log, "he told me this story, but he kept getting himself all muddled. Would freeze up, then start bashing his head on the nearest thing¡ªrailings, the road¡­ it was awful. Honestly, he seemed barmy, especially when he started begging me not to go back to Hogwarts. Said I shouldn¡¯t have left the Dursleys and come here, and that he¡¯d been watching me for ages, waiting for a chance to warn me. He looked so miserable I almost felt sorry for him¡­ at first."


    "What was he warning you about?" I pressed, not wanting him to drift into silence.


    "Something about danger waiting for me at school," Harry said, rubbing his forehead as though the memory pained him. "He wouldn¡¯t say what, though. When I asked if it had to do with¡­ You-Know-Who," he faltered, catching my pointed look, "he said it didn¡¯t."


    "And?" I prompted. "How¡¯d it end?"


    "He pulled out this stack of letters¡ªyours, Hermione¡¯s, even Hagrid¡¯s. The ones you sent over the summer. Turns out he¡¯d been nicking them! I lost it and told him to shove off. Got on my bike and pedalled towards the Burrow, but the little sod shouted something after me. Something like, ¡®I won¡¯t let Harry Potter get hurt! I¡¯ll protect him!¡¯ Next thing I know, it¡¯s like there¡¯s an invisible wall in front of me. I slammed straight into it at full speed and went flying. Lucky I managed to grab the edge of the bridge, or I¡¯d have gone into the water with the bike.


    "While I¡¯m lying there, aching all over, he just pops up again, all apologetic, muttering stuff like, ¡®Better to be injured than dead.¡¯ Can you believe that?!" Harry fumed. "And here¡¯s the kicker¡ªFred and George didn¡¯t see a thing when they came running."


    "Right," I said, standing up and dusting off my jeans. "We¡¯ll sort this out back home. Merlin knows he might still be skulking about. And no more wandering off on your own, yeah?"


    "Alright," Harry said with a grin, brightening up a bit. "Hey, Ron, what¡¯s the deal with house-elves, anyway? Who are they?"


    On the way back, I told him everything I knew about house-elves. By the time we¡¯d pieced together all the scraps of information, we¡¯d convinced ourselves it had to be Malfoy¡¯s elf. He was the one who¡¯d benefit most from Harry not showing up at school. Harry reckoned that was the only explanation, and I didn¡¯t argue. But privately, I wasn¡¯t so sure.


    This whole business with the Horcrux felt too murky. What if it wasn¡¯t Malfoy¡¯s initiative at all, but a direct order from the Dark Lord? Maybe that¡¯s why he wasn¡¯t punished for losing the Horcrux. As they say¡ªhe did his job, and it¡¯s not his fault how it all turned out. You can¡¯t compete with Potter and his ridiculous streak of luck. Especially when the Dark Lord didn¡¯t know the whole prophecy, just part of it.


    Voldemort might not have revealed the full truth to his servant. He could¡¯ve simply ordered something like: ¡°If I ever disappear, plant the diary with a pureblood schoolkid¡ªpreferably one of the children of my enemies. That will unleash the horror of the Chamber, Muggle-borns will suffer, Dumbledore will be ousted, and Hogwarts will fall under the Board of Governors¡¯ control. After that, they¡¯ll appoint a new headmaster¡ªsomeone they can manipulate to enforce their own rules.¡±


    And who really knows how that Horcrux worked? From what I understood in that last exchange between Tom and Harry in the book, he didn¡¯t care much about Muggle-borns. He wanted to meet Harry himself. Maybe the Horcrux didn¡¯t create a physical body.* What if Tom could leave the possessed body at will? At first, he probably intended to dominate Ginny completely, like he did with Quirrell, but after learning about Potter, he decided Harry¡¯s body was a better prize than a teenage girl¡¯s.


    Still, we¡¯d need basilisk venom to destroy it properly. Or maybe there were spells for that, like Fiendfyre. Something to look into, anyway.


    And then there was Dobby. Who¡¯d sent him? The elf might¡¯ve been rebellious, sure, but betraying his master outright? Unlikely. What if Lucius had sent him on purpose, to stir things up while still playing innocent?


    Whatever it was, I put the whole mess out of my mind for the night. Tomorrow, Luna was coming back, and I¡¯d finally see her again. Letters were all well and good, but nothing beat seeing her in person. I just hoped she¡¯d like the gifts I got her.

 Chapter 30

    I didn¡¯t manage to visit the Lovegoods until three days later. Luna sent me a little black owl with a hawk-like head¡ªCarla, she called her. Needless to say, I headed straight to her house as soon as I finished work.


    Luna was tanned and had grown a bit taller, but her dreamy, faraway look hadn¡¯t changed. It gave her a childlike charm that made her impossibly endearing. She was thrilled to see me and didn¡¯t bother hiding it.


    ¡°Luna, where are the photos?¡± I asked when she was animatedly recounting all the sights she¡¯d seen during her trip¡ªsomething unusual for her.


    ¡°What do I need photos for, Ron?¡± she replied, genuinely puzzled.


    ¡°Well, to look back on the places you¡¯ve been and the things you saw,¡± I stammered. ¡°Or, you know, to show me, so I can see them too.¡±


    ¡°I remember everything just fine,¡± she countered. ¡°And I¡¯m telling you about it, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s listening, though. Looking¡¯s different,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°If you truly want to listen, you¡¯ll see it all in your mind,¡± she said earnestly. ¡°And if you don¡¯t, even looking at pictures won¡¯t help.¡±


    Well, she had a point, didn¡¯t she? Couldn¡¯t argue with that logic, so I just laughed.


    My gifts delighted her, though it wasn¡¯t the hair ties or clips that caught her fancy, but the phoenix feather. She twirled around the room, humming, holding the feather aloft and letting it float gently down before catching it again. Afterward, she stuck it carefully in a vase of dried flowers, refusing outright to use it for writing¡ªit would be disrespectful, she said.


    ¡°But don¡¯t worry, Ron,¡± she said with a soft smile, patting my shoulder in reassurance. ¡°I¡¯ve got a swan feather. Look.¡±


    She brought out a beautiful, delicate white quill and slid it into the holder I¡¯d given her. ¡°See? Much better,¡± she said, handing it to me to inspect before flashing another bright smile.


    ¡°Oh, and I¡¯ve got a gift for you,¡± she chirped, darting off and returning with a single orange radish in her palm. ¡°The Zeppelin Plums have ripened. They sharpen your perception of anything new or unusual and ward off Nargles,¡± she added with a thoughtful, serious expression. ¡°It¡¯s an amulet, just for you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Luna,¡± I said with a grin. ¡°So, er, how do I wear it?¡±


    ¡°One moment!¡± she said brightly, fetching a crafting box. She plaited a cord and fastened the radish securely to it. Watching her work was mesmerising; she didn¡¯t just make things¡ªshe poured life and energy into them. It¡¯s why every trinket she crafted felt like a real charm, even something as silly as a necklace of butterbeer caps. Honestly, if she¡¯d insisted on piercing my ear to give me a radish earring, I¡¯d probably have gone along with it and worn it proudly.


    Her magic had a warmth and gentleness to it¡ªnothing like the fiery, explosive energy Mum exuded. Being near Luna made me feel grounded and at peace. It was the sort of harmony that made you not want to leave, just in case you lost that feeling of balance.


    When she finished, she slipped the necklace over my head, then started making herself earrings out of similar radishes. They suited her perfectly¡ªthe orange brought out a sparkle in her eyes, as if she was already looking forward to tomorrow¡¯s adventures and the people she might meet.


    Her wand, like Luna herself, was simple yet unique. It was made of white oak, with no proper handle, just a faintly carved green vine pattern near the grip. Honestly, it looked more like one of those chopsticks you¡¯d find in a Chinese restaurant or a wooden hairpin than a wand. Luna, ever whimsical, tucked it behind her ear like her father did.


    Unlike my parents, Xenophilius didn¡¯t stop Luna from practising magic. So we spent our time casting spells together. I showed her the wand movements I¡¯d learnt using a pencil, making sure she got them right. But her magic was always... grander. She didn¡¯t just levitate a feather; her Leviosa had half the house floating about, including me. And her Cheering Charms? Let¡¯s just say I nearly died laughing when they ricocheted off and hit her stuffed bear, which started rolling around in hysterics.


    Later, she brought out a book on braiding spells meant for girls, and we spent the evening magically plaiting hair in all sorts of styles.


    ¡°Luna,¡± I hesitated on our last evening together, taking her hands in mine. ¡°I wanted to ask you something. I know your parents were both in Ravenclaw, but would you consider asking the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor? They say it listens if you make a request. That way, we could be together. Our house is brilliant¡ªyou¡¯d love it.¡±


    ¡®And no one would dare lay a finger on you,¡¯ I thought fiercely.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she agreed easily, giving me a soft smile. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, Ron.¡±


    Walking home that night, I couldn¡¯t help feeling joy at the idea of her joining us at Gryffindor. But deep down, I knew better than to get my hopes up. Luna had a knack for telling people what they wanted to hear, only to turn around and do whatever she liked. She never argued or pushed back¡ªshe just quietly shifted the weight of other people¡¯s expectations back onto them. It was something I¡¯d learned the hard way when I told her to stop visiting me at work. If she didn¡¯t fancy Gryffindor, not even Merlin himself could change her mind.


    As for the diary, I buried it in a sandy patch in the woods near the Burrow, after using runes from a book Luna lent me. I scorched chains of runes onto four stones, added a few drops of my blood, and buried the lot. It wouldn¡¯t stop real dark magic, but the diary itself seemed clean. But more importantly no one but me would ever find the spot.


    By the time I headed back, everyone was still at the beach, so I shifted the diary to its new hiding place. Luna¡¯s book on runes had made me determined to take the subject in third year¡ªif I lived that long, anyway.


    That evening, Mum put on a proper spread, and the twins outdid themselves with a fireworks show. A proper feast and a show. Before bed, I stocked up on sandwiches, leftover treacle tart, and got the thermos ready, same as I did last year. When I got back to my room, there was a stack of freshly laundered and ironed clothes waiting for me¡ªMum¡¯s doing, of course.


    Harry and I took our time sorting out our gear and packing up our trunks. After that, we spent the rest of the evening messing about with new spells¡ªwell, Harry did the actual spellcasting. Meanwhile, I was plotting to have a serious word with Dad next year about lifting the ban on me using magic. Honestly, it was embarrassing¡ªfelt like I was stuck in nursery.


    Morning brought the usual chaos. Everyone except Harry and me was rushing about like headless chickens, hunting for socks, quills, textbooks, and other bits and bobs. After a quick bite to eat, Dad was left lugging trunks and owl cages to the car. Luckily, I¡¯d suggested Harry send Hedwig to Hogwarts on her own. He sent her off with a note for Hagrid and told her to wait for him there¡ªkept things simple.


    Dad fiddled with a couple of buttons on the car, and the inside expanded.


    ¡°Extension charms, like in the enchanted tent,¡± I explained to Harry, who was staring wide-eyed as we settled into the back seat. Mum and Ginny took the front.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Dad, why are we driving to the station like Muggles again this year?¡± I asked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the Floo be faster and easier?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ for safety reasons, Ron,¡± Dad mumbled, avoiding my gaze. ¡°You see, Harry¡¯s relatives are Muggles, and¡ªoh, Molly, dear!¡± He leapt out of the car to help Mum with something, clearly trying to dodge any awkward questions.


    ¡°More like he wanted an excuse to drive the car again,¡± I muttered to Harry. ¡°Mum¡¯s not exactly keen on Dad¡¯s Muggle gadget obsession, but an official reason makes it harder for her to argue.¡±


    Before long, the twins and Percy piled into the car while Dad helped Ginny find her seat.


    ¡°These Muggles aren¡¯t as daft as I thought,¡± Mum said, looking around at the surprisingly roomy car. Dad avoided her gaze, looking rather sheepish.


    We had to go back three times. Fred forgot his box of crackers. Then George realised he¡¯d left his broom behind. Ginny started crying about a forgotten diary. But when Percy insisted on returning for his enchanted quill, I lost my temper. Dad wasn¡¯t having it either and decided the quill could wait¡ªit¡¯d be sent by owl later. Right then, I made a vow: Next time, I¡¯m taking the Floo. Everyone else can walk for all I care.


    When we finally made it to the station, Dad rushed to grab us trolleys, looking frazzled.


    ¡°Right, boys, here you go. Quickly now¡ªthe train leaves in ten minutes!¡±


    The twins lobbed their trunks and brooms onto one trolley while Percy helped stack the rest of our things before darting off after Mum and Ginny. That left Harry and me to sort ourselves out.


    ¡°Wait, Harry!¡± I shouted as he charged at the barrier. He slammed straight into it, sending his trolley flying. Honestly, I was glad we¡¯d sent Hedwig ahead.


    ¡°What¡¯s this, Ron?¡± Harry asked, dazed and a bit flustered as passersby shot us annoyed looks. He frantically checked the wall with his hand. ¡°The barrier¡¯s broken?¡±


    ¡°Probably down to your little pal Dobby,¡± I said, scowling as I tested the barrier with my own trolley. Nothing.


    ¡°Ron, we missed the train,¡± Harry croaked, sounding utterly panicked as the station clock struck the hour.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get your knickers in a twist,¡± I said, brushing it off. ¡°It¡¯s not the end of the world. Grab your trolley¡ªwe¡¯ll head back to the car.¡±


    ¡°You mean to wait for your parents?¡± Harry asked, perking up slightly.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I replied as we wheeled our trolleys to the car. ¡°Dad¡¯s off to work as soon as we¡¯re sorted, and Mum can¡¯t drive. She¡¯ll Floo home. Get in the front seat,¡± I told him, tossing the trunks into the boot and hopping into the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°Wait¡ªyou¡¯re going to fly the car to Hogwarts?¡± Harry asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft!¡± I said, staring at him like he¡¯d lost the plot. ¡°What do you take me for, a complete nutter? Flying halfway across the country in this old thing? Besides, I¡¯m not risking getting Dad into trouble.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ why are we sitting here?¡± Harry asked, completely puzzled.


    ¡°We¡¯re waiting for the auto-pilot spell to kick in,¡± I explained. ¡°Dad charmed the car to return to the garage on its own. Should be off in about¡ª¡± I checked my watch, ¡°¡ªtwenty minutes. I could drive it back myself, but honestly, why bother?¡±


    ¡°So, what then? Back to the Burrow?¡± Harry pressed, still fretting about missing the train.


    ¡°Two options,¡± I said, turning to face him. ¡°We could summon the Knight Bus and be in Hogsmeade in an hour, then walk to the castle. Or we head home, take the Floo to the Three Broomsticks, and hoof it from there.¡±


    ¡°Why not the bus?¡± Harry asked hopefully.


    ¡°Too pricey,¡± I said, settling into my seat. ¡°Hogwarts is in Scotland. A bus fare to Hogsmeade would set us back at least a Galleon, maybe more. Floo powder¡¯s only a couple of Sickles, and we ought to let the adults know what¡¯s happened. Don¡¯t fancy starting term with detention, do you? Oh¡ªhere we go!¡±


    The car rumbled to life, shimmering as the invisibility charms activated. It lifted off the ground and headed south. Less than twenty minutes later, we were back at the Burrow, trunks and Scabbers¡¯ cage in tow.


    Mum didn¡¯t make a fuss¡ªwell, not much. She patched up Harry¡¯s scraped knee, fixed his torn trousers, and sent us to the kitchen while she had a blazing row with Dad via Floo. Apparently, it was his job to make sure we boarded the train.


    I couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit guilty about missing Ginny¡¯s first trip to school¡ªor checking in on Luna. But I¡¯d be damned if I missed the Sorting Feast.


    Later, Mum got in touch with someone from the school while we munched on the sandwiches she¡¯d prepared earlier. We even managed to have a quick fly about. Around four, Dad came back, and he used the Floo to get us to the Three Broomsticks. From there, he contacted McGonagall, and a Hogwarts house-elf popped in, grabbed our things, and vanished with them in the blink of an eye. That left us with nearly two hours to roam the village, so naturally, we stocked up on sweets at Honeydukes. Even I couldn¡¯t resist and picked up some sugared nuts, a couple of sugar quills, and a handful of Peppermint Imps to try, along with the usual goodies like halva, sherbet, and chocolate¡ªall for nearly two Galleons. Harry, of course, went all out.


    Dad didn¡¯t forget to shrink down our purchases, and just before seven, he walked us to the castle. So, we got to visit Hogsmeade before our third year¡ªbrilliant, really.


    At the castle, McGonagall and Snape were waiting for us. While the Deputy Headmistress had a hushed and rather serious chat with Dad, Snape stood there looming, his face like thunder as he stared us down.


    ¡°So, arriving at school like the rest of the mortal world is too pedestrian for you, Mr. Potter?¡± he sneered in that venomous way of his. ¡°You simply had to make a grand entrance.¡±


    ¡°It was the barrier, sir,¡± Harry tried to explain earnestly, as if Snape would ever care about an excuse.


    ¡°Silence,¡± Snape hissed, his voice dripping with menace. ¡°If you were in my House, you¡¯d already be on your way home.¡±


    ¡°Fortunately, we¡¯re not, sir,¡± Harry replied, overly polite but with just enough cheek to challenge Snape.


    Before Snape could dock us points for existing, McGonagall turned to us.


    ¡°Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,¡± she said crisply, ¡°you¡¯re free to go. Your belongings have been delivered to your dormitory. Do clean yourselves up¡ªyou¡¯re covered in soot. The other students will be arriving shortly.¡± Then, to my surprise, she added, ¡°Well done, Mr. Weasley, for returning home and informing your parents.¡± She even smiled before walking off with Dad toward the fireplace.


    We didn¡¯t stick around long enough for Snape to find another reason to glare at us and bolted up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.


    Once in the dorm, we changed into clean robes, washed up, and stashed away our purchases. By the time we headed to the Great Hall, the place was bustling with students arriving for the feast. Percy spotted us and rushed over, his face pale with worry.


    ¡°Ron! Harry! Is it true?¡± he practically shouted. ¡°I nearly lost my mind when I realised you weren¡¯t on the train! I had to send a note to the school through the conductor. How did you even get here?¡±


    ¡°Er, later, Perce,¡± I said quickly, dragging him toward the Gryffindor table. ¡°The Sorting¡¯s about to start, and I don¡¯t want to miss Ginny.¡±


    As the first-years filed in, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Had we really looked that small and terrified just a year ago? They huddled together like frightened kittens, seeking comfort from one another. Well, except for Luna. She strolled in like she was exploring some magical realm only she could see, her dreamy gaze fixed on the enchanted ceiling. With her bright earrings and slightly messy plaits, she looked delightfully odd.


    ¡°Ravenclaw!¡± the Sorting Hat called, and Luna skipped off to her new table without a hint of hesitation. I watched as Penelope Clearwater leaned down to whisper something welcoming to her, though Luna didn¡¯t seem to notice. She just nodded absently, her eyes drifting across the staff table. When her gaze landed on me, she gave a small, soft smile before turning her attention elsewhere. I sighed. Not meant to be, I supposed.


    Watching everyone¡¯s reactions to Luna was oddly entertaining. Dumbledore gave her an encouraging nod and raised his goblet in a salute. McGonagall looked startled, then vaguely exasperated before turning away. Most of the staff ignored her entirely¡ªexcept for Flitwick, who observed her with keen interest. Snape, however, had the best reaction. At first, he looked confused, then scowled darkly. When Luna gave him one of her serene, otherworldly smiles, he visibly shuddered and broke eye contact first. I nearly burst out laughing¡ªlooked like he wouldn¡¯t be bothering her any time soon.


    Ginny plopped down beside me, looking happy. During the feast, she prattled on about how she¡¯d already made friends with a couple of girls, though they¡¯d ended up in different Houses. She¡¯d sat with Luna on the train, but it didn¡¯t sound like they¡¯d hit it off. Too weird for her, probably. Typical.


    After the feast, Percy gathered the first-years to lead them to Gryffindor Tower. Harry and I got ahead of them and were back in the dormitory before they arrived. We spent ages swapping stories about our summers until we finally conked out.

 Chapter 31

    Nobody besides our lot seemed to notice that Harry and I didn¡¯t arrive at Hogwarts on the train. The boys were dead jealous, though, when they found out we¡¯d already been to Hogsmeade¡ªespecially since they¡¯d have to wait another year. They crowded around us, hanging on our every word about the shops, happily stuffing themselves with sweets, and dreaming of the day they¡¯d get to see the place for themselves. In the meantime, they were already flicking through the catalogue and placing orders for snacks to jazz up our evening hangouts.


    The catalogue, courtesy of the owner of Honeydukes, was a right game changer. All you had to do was tap a picture with your wand, choose the amount, and by morning, an owl would deliver it. Back in the day, first-years like us had to beg favours off older students, which was always more trouble than it was worth. They¡¯d charge you in chocolate frogs, butterbeer, or Merlin knows what else¡ªhardly affordable on a first-year¡¯s allowance¡ªor, worse, demand favours: running errands around the castle. No one fancied that, so most kids just went without.


    Ginny¡¯s puffskein, Arnold, caused a proper stir at school. The girls were swooning over him, and some of the lads were already planning to buy one as a gift for their girlfriends. Ginny became a bit of a celebrity among the first-years and didn¡¯t have time for Harry or his fan club. She wasn¡¯t blushing at the sight of him anymore, at least, though I caught her sneaking the occasional dreamy look in his direction.


    On every break or in the Great Hall, people kept asking Ginny where they could get a puffskein like Arnold. She sent them straight to Fred and George. The twins made a killing, pocketing nearly 150 Galleons in two months. Even at four Galleons a pop, complete with a fancy carrying bag, there weren¡¯t enough puffskeins to meet demand. They were a smashing deal, though¡ªthey didn¡¯t age for ten years, ate rubbish (literally anything from scraps of parchment to broken quills), didn¡¯t shed, and purred like cats. Best of all, their fur changed colour depending on their owner¡¯s mood. They even came with a catalogue to explain the colours.


    The twins, of course, had worked some magic¡ªquite literally¡ªto ensure that charmed puffskeins couldn¡¯t breed, keeping the market wide open for years to come. Brilliant, that. I had to hand it to them; they were sharper than I ever gave them credit for. They gave me 15 Galleons as thanks and Ginny 30, so we were pleased with the arrangement.


    I even gave Hermione one for her birthday¡ªa red puffskein with gold tips. She blushed, properly touched, and said she¡¯d always wanted a pet, but her parents wouldn¡¯t allow it. Harry toyed with the idea of getting one but decided against it¡ªhe reckoned he¡¯d have no time between Quidditch practices and didn¡¯t want to worry about keeping it safe at the Dursleys¡¯. Still, he¡¯d occasionally borrow Hermione¡¯s puffskein for a quick cuddle.


    Flitwick set me a massive summer project for Charms¡ªno books to guide me, just 122 questions I had to answer with my reasoning written out in detail. It took me ages, but it must¡¯ve impressed him because, by the end of the first week, he started piling me with extra reading and weekly tests. Nothing promised, of course, but it was my chance to prove myself. I spent most of my free time in the library, often with Hermione. McGonagall had taken her under her wing too, so she was buried in extra coursework just like me.


    Harry wasn¡¯t thrilled with all the studying, but it rubbed off on him a bit. Between Quidditch practice three times a week and hanging out with us, he didn¡¯t have much choice. He¡¯d bolt off to the pitch looking like he¡¯d escaped Azkaban. He was never one for sitting still, especially not with a book in front of him.


    The weekends, at least, were ours. We explored the castle, roamed the grounds, and visited Hagrid. Harry joked one day that it was such a dull year he wouldn¡¯t mind running into Fluffy again just to spice things up. Honestly, it was shaping up to be a quiet term.


    Lockhart, though¡ªwhat a disaster. Every bloke in the school loathed him, especially the older ones. I got it¡ªhe had half the girls swooning over him, including Hermione. They¡¯d huddle in groups, whispering and giggling, while the lads ground their teeth, dreaming up ways to take him down a peg. Some even talked about giving him a "helping hand" with the cursed DADA position.


    I¡¯ll admit, he did look the part¡ªif you like your blokes all polished and preening. Back in my old neighbourhood, he wouldn¡¯t have made it to the corner shop without getting a smack. Still, he had charm, I¡¯ll give him that, and could talk the hind legs off a Hippogriff. He reminded me of Prince Charming from Shrek.


    His books, though¡ªsurprisingly decent. More like adventure novels than textbooks, really, but good fun. Still, they were more for a female audience, with endless descriptions of clothes and emotions. You couldn¡¯t learn a thing from them, but they made for a laugh:


    "That balmy summer evening, with a flutter in my chest, I prepared to face the Yorkshire Yeti. This unthinkable creature had plagued the good folk of the village where I had sought refuge during my perilous journey to the Northern Forests. There, I was destined to confront sinister trolls (see ¡®Trekking with Trolls¡¯). But how could I turn a deaf ear to the tearful pleas of these desperate villagers?¡±


    Utter drivel, but I couldn¡¯t stop reading.


    The danger was immense, so I decided to don my favourite lilac satin robes for the duel¡ªthe very ones I had worn only a few months ago when I triumphed over a ghoul (see "Gallivanting with Ghouls").


    A treasured pin, gifted to me for luck by my dear mother, took pride of place on my silk cravat, tied in an impeccable Plastron knot. A couple of dabs of cologne¡ªto counter the stench of the filthy creature¡ªand there I was, tossing my hair lightly and calling the heavens as my witness, ready to meet my fate.


    I do not know if I shall survive this encounter, but if I am to perish, I shall do so with dignity and flair.¡±


    In the end, the beast, overwhelmed by such beauty and bravery, surrendered and reformed itself. Particularly after Lockhart taught it to read and write (copies of the creature¡¯s letters and photos of the hero in various poses were, naturally, included). The rest of his writing followed the same pattern. The battles were vividly described, thrilling even, but it all reeked of ¡°The New Adventures of Hercules¡±¡ªas told by a man clearly in love with himself.


    Thus, we mastered Defence Against the Dark Arts on our own, relying on Miranda Goshawk¡¯s "The Standard Book of Spells, Year 2.¡± Lockhart¡¯s lessons, after his spectacular failure with the Cornish pixies, were more like amateur theatre performances. Honestly, it was brilliant¡ªlike Quirrell¡¯s fairy tales, but acted out and with flair.


    Harry got particularly roped in, often cast as some monster or another. He wasn¡¯t too pleased about it, but Lockhart was relentless. Still, no one earned Gryffindor as many points in this subject as Harry did¡ªexcept, of course, Hermione, who had memorised all of Lockhart¡¯s books cover to cover.


    Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to have gone off the deep end this year, constantly watching us and picking fights. We managed to dodge any proper scuffles¡ªfor now. I reckoned he was shocked that Harry had even made it to school. I, on the other hand, was curious about who had sent Dobby¡ªDraco or his smug, blond father. Either way, our first clash with him wasn¡¯t far off.


    It happened near the castle during a walk, when some new Gryffindor, a kid named Colin, started pestering our trio for magical photos. He was so enthusiastic about Harry that a group of onlookers began gathering.


    ¡°Oh, handing out autographs already, Potter?¡± came Malfoy¡¯s slow, sneering voice from behind us. ¡°Hoping for another headline?¡±


    Malfoy stood there with his usual pair of goons, openly smirking.


    ¡°Oi, everyone, queue up!¡± he suddenly shouted, sniggering. ¡°Potter¡¯s giving out autographs to all his adoring fans!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving out anything, Malfoy,¡± Harry hissed, his face red as he clenched his fists. ¡°And leave me alone, Colin. I told you, I¡¯m not signing anything.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let him get to you, Harry,¡± chirped Colin, still grinning. ¡°He¡¯s just jealous of your fame.¡±


    ¡°What was that, you little runt?¡± Malfoy snapped, stepping forward with a menacing squint. ¡°Who¡¯s jealous, eh?¡±


    I had to step in front of the kid with a grin, but before things could escalate¡ªThis story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°What¡¯s this I hear?¡± came Lockhart¡¯s overly cheery voice. ¡°Harry, you rascal, giving out autographs without me? Tut-tut, you should¡¯ve waited! Mr Creevey, was it? A double portrait, perhaps? Shall I sign too?¡±


    The awestruck crowd instantly closed in on Harry, who was trapped, struggling to escape Lockhart¡¯s grip. The camera flashes went off, accompanied by gasps and squeals from the girls.


    ¡°And what about you, Weasley?¡± Malfoy drawled, turning his attention to me with a smirk. ¡°Not first in line? Fancy a photo for yourself? Bet it¡¯d be worth more than that shack you call a house.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so, Malfoy,¡± I replied, smiling sweetly as I turned to face him, ¡°but it¡¯s not exactly smart to make bets when you¡¯re always losing. None of your warnings about Potter have come true, have they? You¡¯re no Trelawney, that¡¯s for sure. Still, if you fancy a wager, I¡¯m game¡ªmaybe I¡¯ll get lucky again. Easy money, eh?¡±


    ¡°Not bloody likely,¡± Malfoy spat, storming off towards the castle. And rightly so¡ªwhat¡¯s the point of starting a row when everyone¡¯s distracted by your rival?


    ¡°Oi, Malfoy,¡± I called after him, ¡°if I were you, I¡¯d snap a photo with Potter¡ªjust in case. Who knows? Someday it might be worth more than your house too.¡±


    He glared, clearly wanting to retort, but before he could, Snape emerged from the castle. Malfoy threw me a look of pure frustration before quickly turning, nodding solemnly at his Head of House, and retreating with his cronies. Snape¡¯s mere presence swiftly dispersed the crowd of gawkers. The man himself shot me a sharp glance before heading towards the greenhouses, trailed by Lockhart, who was babbling incessantly. Here¡¯s hoping Snape had the good sense to bury him under a carnivorous shrub.


    Our second run-in with Malfoy happened at the Quidditch pitch. One Saturday morning, I woke up to find a note: ¡°Come to the pitch with Hermione when you can. First training session¡ªneed support. Harry.¡±


    Oliver Wood, of course, was a complete Quidditch maniac and had dragged his team out at the crack of dawn. I was glad not to be on the team, though I¡¯d brought my broom just for a bit of fun. But while Wood was captain, there was no chance I¡¯d get a spot as Keeper.


    Hermione and I arrived just in time to see a confrontation brewing. Flint, the smug Slytherin captain, was showing off his new Seeker and their shiny new brooms.


    ¡°The latest model¡ªNimbus 2001,¡± Flint sneered. ¡°Much better than the Nimbus 2000. And as for those Cleansweeps¡­¡± He shot a derisive glance at Fred and George¡¯s battered old brooms, ¡°they¡¯re not even worth mentioning.¡±


    ¡°What d¡¯you think of our new brooms, Weasley?¡± Malfoy jeered, smirking at me. ¡°Jealous?¡±


    ¡°Why would I be?¡± I shrugged, feigning indifference as I admired the brooms. ¡°Let¡¯s see you catch the Snitch first, Malfoy. Otherwise, your lot¡¯ll string you up for cocking it all up. No excuses, eh? The broom¡¯s top-notch, after all. Who¡¯d they boot off the team to put you on? Hasper? Saw his face earlier¡ªnot jealous of you there. Slip up, and you¡¯re done for. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re as brilliant as you think. But if it¡¯s a bet you want, I¡¯ll put my Galleons on Potter¡ªbest Seeker there is. Don¡¯t even need fancy brooms to thrash you lot.¡±


    ¡°Get stuffed, Weasel,¡± snapped Malfoy, looking visibly rattled. ¡°Jealous much? One Seeker doesn¡¯t decide a match, and we¡¯ve got better brooms. Maybe if your fans chipped in, you could afford some as well. Or better yet, auction off your Cleansweep Fives. Museums would be tripping over themselves to get them.¡± He smirked as his team chuckled, but our lot brightened noticeably, remembering we had Harry on our side. What followed was more of a back-and-forth of harmless jibes and disdainful looks than anything serious, and the tension eased¡ªat least until Hermione decided to get involved.


    ¡°At least none of our players had to buy their way onto the team,¡± she said sharply, narrowing her eyes in disdain. ¡°Everyone earned their spot through talent.¡±


    ¡°No one asked you, you filthy Mudblood!¡± Malfoy spat, his face twisting in fury.


    And that¡¯s when all hell broke loose.


    Flint and Wood threw their brooms down and went at each other like wild animals. I shoved Hermione back towards the Gryffindor girls and joined the fray with the twins and Harry, aiming for Malfoy. Of course, the git hid behind Bletchley, their hulking Keeper. It turned into an all-out brawl¡ªa proper one at that¡ªbut somehow Malfoy managed to escape unscathed. Not that it spared him entirely; later on, one of our girls hit him with a belching and hiccuping-hex from behind.


    We¡¯d have been in for an even worse beating if Madam Hooch hadn¡¯t shown up, followed by an absolutely livid Snape. Between the two of them, Gryffindor lost another thirty points on top of the twenty Madam Hooch docked us. Snape dragged his lot off¡ªprobably to chew them out or patch them up in the Hospital Wing. At least he didn¡¯t assign us detentions, so I¡¯ll take the small victories where I can.


    Naturally, any hopes of a proper Quidditch practice were out the window after that. Everyone scattered. Wood and the twins headed off to the Hospital Wing¡ªthey¡¯d taken the worst of it¡ªwhile Hermione and I decided to visit Hagrid. On the way there, we nearly ran into Lockhart, but luckily we managed to skirt around to the back of the hut before he could corner us. Hagrid¡¯s dog started barking, and the git changed his mind about coming inside. Good riddance.


    ¡°Imagine that¡ªtelling me how to clean a well of algae,¡± Hagrid grumbled as we sat at the table. He brushed a pile of rooster feathers onto the floor, clearing space for the kettle and clattering some poor mugs in the process. ¡°As if I¡¯ve been livin¡¯ all these years and don¡¯t know how to do that meself. Then he starts prattlin¡¯ on about his so-called adventures. Load of codswallop, if you ask me. I¡¯ll eat this kettle if he ain¡¯t makin¡¯ half of it up.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t like Hagrid to speak so disrespectfully about Hogwarts professors¡ªnot even Snape. Clearly, the poor bloke had had it up to here.


    Harry and I exchanged a look but said nothing. Hermione, on the other hand, scowled.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re being unfair, Hagrid,¡± she began in that prim-and-proper tone of hers, ready to defend Lockhart, but Hagrid cut her off as he caught sight of us.


    ¡°Blimey¡­ What ¡®appened to the pair of you? You¡¯ve been fightin¡¯, haven¡¯t you?¡± he said, wide-eyed.


    ¡°Yeah, we had a scrap with Malfoy,¡± muttered Harry, poking at the cut on his lip.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pick at it with dirty hands,¡± Hagrid barked, swatting Harry¡¯s hand away so hard it nearly took his arm off. Then he dug through a box of potions and handed us a couple of vials.


    ¡°The whole team got dragged into it,¡± Harry explained, wincing as he applied the salve. ¡°Malfoy called Hermione a name, and everyone lost it.¡±


    ¡°He called me a Mudblood,¡± Hermione interjected, her voice small as she stared at the floor. ¡°I think it¡¯s a really bad word.¡±


    ¡°Bad? Worse than bad,¡± Hagrid growled, slamming his massive hand on the table so hard the mugs jumped. ¡°The little toerag!¡±


    What followed was an impassioned lecture from Hagrid about blood purity and its utter nonsense, peppered with some rather flattering praise for Hermione. It seemed to work¡ªby the time we left his hut, she was smiling again, her spirits much improved. I couldn¡¯t help wondering, though. Hagrid, being a half-giant, must¡¯ve heard far worse in his lifetime. For the first time, I found myself wondering where all these magical half-bloods came from if even Muggle-borns were treated like dirt by the so-called pure-bloods.


    On the way back to the castle, Hermione finally broke her silence. She¡¯d spent the walk fuming, but now that her bruises had mostly faded, she decided it was the perfect time to lecture us.


    ¡°You know, you were both completely in the wrong,¡± she said, her tone lofty and disapproving. ¡°I appreciate you standing up for me, but resorting to violence? It¡¯s barbaric.¡±


    ¡°What exactly are you saying was wrong?¡± I stopped walking and frowned at her.


    ¡°Civilised people can express themselves without resorting to fists,¡± she snapped. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to stoop to their level.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s how lads settle things, love,¡± I said with a smirk. ¡°Not counting Lockhart, of course, but he¡¯s barely a man anyway. If we¡¯re being honest, though, the whole mess started because of you.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for your help!¡± she shot back, clearly offended.


    ¡°Not what I meant,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m talking about what you said. Why¡¯d you jump into a row between lads? We¡¯d already traded insults, and that would¡¯ve been the end of it if not for your Gryffindor sense of righteousness.¡±


    ¡°Are you blaming me because I¡¯m a girl?¡± Hermione gasped, utterly scandalised.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said bluntly, ignoring the disapproving look Harry shot me. He clearly agreed with me but wasn¡¯t daft enough to say it out loud. I figured it was best to address it now, or we¡¯d end up in another scrap because of Hermione before the week was out. ¡°Look, never butt into a fight between blokes when they¡¯re sorting it out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s sexist!¡± she shrieked, face red with fury.


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I countered. ¡°I don¡¯t interfere in your girl stuff, do I? So don¡¯t interfere in ours.¡±


    ¡°You think women aren¡¯t equal to men?¡± she demanded, glaring daggers at me.


    ¡°We¡¯ve already established you¡¯re smarter than the lot of us put together, but when it comes to a punch-up, lads have the upper hand,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°You¡¯re a chauvinist, Ron Weasley!¡± she yelled before storming off towards the castle as though a pack of wolves was on her heels.


    ¡°Feminist,¡± I called after her, sighing. Honestly, it seemed we couldn¡¯t go a day without some kind of argument.


    ¡°Did you have to say it like that, Ron?¡± Harry chided me as we strolled along the path.


    ¡°To teach her to hold her tongue,¡± I replied plainly. ¡°We¡¯re not always going to be around. One day, she¡¯ll run into a lot like Malfoy¡¯s crew and say something she shouldn¡¯t. Blokes like him don¡¯t even notice Muggle-born girls unless they go out of their way to insult them or shove the truth in their faces. And Hermione, clever as she is, is a proper Gryffindor¡ªcan¡¯t keep quiet to save her life. Better I say it now than let her get scared out of her wits later and leave us to deal with the fallout.¡±


    Hermione sulked for a couple of days after that. Then she asked me to pass her a dictionary in the library, got caught up in a debate about something or other, and by the time she remembered she was supposed to be upset, it was too late. She had to pretend the row had never happened. Not that she could stay mad for long anyway¡ªshe¡¯d flare up like a firework and burn out just as quick. Typical Gryffindor.

 Chapter 32

    I thought that with no basilisk this year, things would finally calm down¡ªbut as it turned out, it was quite the opposite.


    Everything was fine up until New Year¡¯s. Even Halloween passed without the usual chaos, and we didn¡¯t get invited to Nearly Headless Nick¡¯s Deathday party this time either. But after Christmas, trouble started brewing, and the further we got into the term, the worse it got.


    It began in late November with a letter from Mum and Dad. This time, they didn¡¯t even risk inviting me home. They wrote straight away that they wouldn¡¯t be around¡ªthey¡¯d gone to visit Bill in Egypt and wouldn¡¯t be back until after Christmas.


    Bill had been promoted, or rather, he¡¯d officially qualified as a Curse-Breaker and was taken on full time. They transferred him to Egypt, set him up in a flat in Zamalek on Gezira Island, and Mum and Dad decided to visit while the rest of us were stuck at Hogwarts. That left us to spend the holidays at school. Saying I was disappointed would be putting it mildly. I¡¯d been hoping to visit Charlie, but with no one to see me off to Romania, I had to put the trip off until summer.


    I¡¯d already invited Harry and Hermione to come along, of course after asking Charlie first. He was fine with it, even managed to get us a family discount¡ªtwenty Galleons instead of a hundred for the international Portkey and translator, plus we¡¯d be staying at his place. Now Harry¡¯s counting down the days till summer on his calendar. He¡¯s buzzing¡ªhe¡¯s never been anywhere. Luna turned us down, though. She and her dad are off on another month-long expedition. I wouldn¡¯t mind tagging along with them someday, though her dad¡¯s not too keen on me. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.


    Malfoy, meanwhile, was more insufferable than ever this year¡ªprobably couldn¡¯t get over being humiliated at the Quidditch pitch. There wasn¡¯t a single day he didn¡¯t sling some nasty comment when we crossed paths. And it wasn¡¯t just us, either. He¡¯d changed his strategy¡ªgot smarter about it, almost professional.


    Instead of tossing off a quick insult and strutting off, he¡¯d stick around, goading his target until they snapped and started a fight. His goons, Crabbe and Goyle, wouldn¡¯t let anyone get near him, so Malfoy would stand there smirking, untouched, while the other person fumed. The commotion would draw prefects or professors, and points would be docked¡ªor Snape would hand out detentions. Malfoy, of course, would always play innocent, throwing smug looks that made you want to knock him flat.


    He didn¡¯t bother me, though. I¡¯m not a kid, and I¡¯ve got no problem giving as good as I get. I warned him back in the Shrieking Shack to leave me be, and he¡¯s taken that to heart. Plus, my comebacks are a bit more grown-up. Like this one:


    ¡°So, Weasley,¡± Malfoy sneered as we loitered outside the Potions classroom, waiting to go in. ¡°Not going home for the holidays? I suppose your parents finally decided to rid themselves of all their brats and save a few Sickles. Must be crowded in that little hovel of yours, like rabbits in a warren. Hopefully, now your mum can afford a new robe¡ªher old one¡¯s a sight for sore eyes.¡±


    Everyone snickered, and Hermione shot me a worried look, gripping my arm as if I¡¯d fly at him. She needn¡¯t have bothered¡ªI wasn¡¯t going to rise to such a clumsy dig. But Harry, on the other hand, snapped.


    ¡°Shut it, Malfoy!¡± Harry growled, fists clenched. Before he could do anything, I shoved him behind me and stepped forward.


    ¡°And I suppose your dad only managed to pot the ball once, Malfoy, and that¡¯s why you¡¯re an only child,¡± I said with a slow, nasty grin, fixing him with a piercing stare. ¡°Some of us are rich in family, and others in broomsticks. Personally, I¡¯ll take siblings over seven Nimbus 2001s any day. But I¡¯m sure your well-dressed mum would disagree.¡±


    Malfoy¡¯s face went white, and with an angry snarl, he lunged at me, forgetting his wand. He ended up crashing into Goyle instead, who toppled over with him when my fist connected.


    Of course, Snape showed up immediately, docked Gryffindor points, and handed me a detention. After that, Malfoy left me alone, though he still enjoyed winding up Harry, who¡¯s far more impulsive and always takes the bait.


    He didn¡¯t dare target Hermione directly either¡ªshe¡¯s not the sort to lash out physically, but her words can cut deeper than a hex. Instead, she¡¯d get hit with petty spells behind her back¡ªnothing harmful, just minor inconveniences like a snapped bag strap, spilt ink, tangled hair, or a stuck scroll of homework. Hermione¡¯s sharp, though, and always fixed things right away. The trouble was, we could never prove it was Malfoy, so we couldn¡¯t hex him or report him. The little git knew that if he crossed a line, we¡¯d tear him apart, so he stuck to sly, small-scale sabotage.


    That¡¯s how life went¡ªone skirmish after another. I couldn¡¯t help but think half the fights could¡¯ve been avoided if someone just rearranged the schedules so Gryffindor and Slytherin didn¡¯t share classes. But no, wizards never take the simple route.


    Harry was on edge this year too¡ªterrified of letting the team down. With Slytherin¡¯s new brooms, it all came down to the Seeker. Wood was relentless, piling on so much pressure it even got on my nerves. I wanted to smack him just to shut him up. Harry, already dealing with Malfoy and Snape, was completely frazzled. Snape wasn¡¯t even outright insulting him¡ªjust constant, calculated nitpicking that made his life hell. He even made sure all of Harry¡¯s detentions were with Lockhart, knowing how much Harry hated him. I thought it was a bit of a joke¡ªsitting there listening to Lockhart ramble while writing lakers to his fans in his name wasn¡¯t exactly hard labour. But Harry swore he¡¯d rather scrub cauldrons for Snape than endure another detention with that blowhard.


    Then, a week before the holidays, Dobby reappeared. Honestly, I thought he¡¯d vanished along with that cursed diary.


    Saturday brought our first Quidditch match of the year¡ªGryffindor versus Slytherin. Our team got a standing ovation from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws too. I almost felt sorry for Slytherin. They¡¯re proper pariahs, really, the whole school against them. Then again, maybe it wasn¡¯t so bad. Could just be everyone united in envy over their shiny new brooms.


    The game didn¡¯t even get off to a proper start. A rogue Bludger locked onto Harry straight away, forcing the twins to protect him while Slytherin racked up points.


    Before the match, I reminded Harry about the mad house-elf, told him to keep his guard up, and if anything odd happened, to get the teachers involved. When the team called a time-out, I thought, finally, Harry will tell the grown-ups about the cursed Bludger, and they¡¯ll sort it all out.


    But nope. Nothing of the sort happened. The team huddled, had a quick chat, and they were back on their brooms before I could blink. Looked like Wood didn¡¯t fancy losing points over stopping the game, or maybe Harry was just being his usual reckless self¡ªclassic hero antics.


    The rain started coming down harder, and I realised it was only a matter of time before Harry ended up with a broken arm. I hurried down from the stands, aiming to stop Lockhart from mucking things up worse if he got anywhere near Harry with a spell. Hermione caught up with me just as I reached the edge of the pitch. We stood there, squinting at the sky, trying to make out what was going on and wondering who might¡¯ve cursed the Bludger.


    Then, a roar went up from the crowd, and Harry plummeted straight to the ground like a stone, barely managing to roll off his broom before impact.


    He¡¯d landed a fair distance off, so we didn¡¯t reach him until a crowd had already formed¡ªhis team, Lockhart, and Snape heading over from the stands. Strangely, no sign of Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore, not even Hooch. Students were trickling down from the stands to gawk.


    ¡°I caught it, Ron!¡± Harry beamed when he spotted me, holding up the Snitch in his good hand. But then his face twisted in pain, and he groaned, gritting his teeth.


    ¡°Yeah, you caught it, Harry! We won!¡± Wood announced gleefully, clapping Angelina on the back, while Fred and George wrestled with the rogue Bludger, trying to shove it into the crate. The thing was still trying to break free and have another go at Harry.


    ¡°Harry, your arm!¡± Hermione fretted, rattling off about how he needed to get to the Hospital Wing immediately.


    ¡°I reckon I can handle this,¡± Lockhart chirped, grinning that ridiculous grin of his as he whipped out his wand. ¡°Hold still; I¡¯ll have you sorted in no time!¡±


    ¡°No¡ª¡± Harry managed to say, but before he could finish, I shoved Lockhart square in the back. He went sprawling face-first into a puddle beside Harry, just as I turned and socked Wood in the nose, hard. I couldn¡¯t take it anymore¡ªhe was standing there rabbiting on about how the win was worth any injury, instead of helping Harry to the Hospital Wing like a proper captain should.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bloody nutter, Wood,¡± I snapped, as Katie and Alicia tried to calm him down, and Hermione grabbed my arm to keep me from taking another swing. ¡°You don¡¯t give a toss about anyone, as long as you get your precious win. Look at you, preening like a prat while Harry¡¯s lying here in the mud with a busted arm!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± Snape¡¯s icy voice cut through the scene as he arrived. ¡°Weasley, Wood, ten points from Gryffindor for brawling. And you, colleague,¡± he added, turning to Lockhart, who was sitting up, inspecting his mud-splattered robes with a horrified expression, ¡°what exactly happened to you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just a little mishap,¡± Lockhart replied breezily, brushing himself off. ¡°Thought I¡¯d lend a hand and, er, slipped. I¡¯d best go change¡ªleaving Mr. Potter in your capable hands, of course.¡± And off he went, scuttling back to the castle.


    ¡°Well?¡± Snape turned back to us, scanning the lot of us with that sharp, piercing look. No one said a word.


    ¡°Everyone, back to the castle. Wood, Weasley, with me,¡± Snape barked. The crowd scattered quickly, not wanting to stick around. Snape cast a sleeping charm on Harry, conjured a stretcher, and levitated him toward the castle.


    ¡°I expect an explanation,¡± Snape demanded, once Harry was handed off to Madam Pomfrey and Wood¡¯s nose had been mended.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°The Bludger was cursed, sir,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°Everyone could see it during the match, but Wood didn¡¯t stop the game or ask for an investigation. Then, when Harry fell, instead of helping him, he just stood there waffling about how the win was worth it. I think someone ought to look into this before our next game.¡±


    ¡°You suspect Slytherins?¡± Snape asked, his tone dangerously sharp.


    ¡°No idea, sir. I figure an investigation will clear that up,¡± I replied, not backing down. ¡°Gryffindor¡¯s got two more matches. I¡¯d rather not see this happen again.¡±


    Snape stared at me for a long moment before turning to Wood. ¡°Mr. Wood, a week of detentions with Mr. Filch should give you time to reflect on your duties as captain. Fail to prioritise your team¡¯s safety again, and you¡¯ll be the first captain in history to be removed for negligence. And you, Mr. Weasley, will serve detention with me tonight at eight for your insolence. Dismissed. Wood, stay.¡±


    As Wood followed Snape, he shot me a murderous glare over his shoulder and made a cutting gesture across his throat. I smirked and flipped him the bird. Looked like I was in for another fight later.


    Honestly, I¡¯ve been uncharacteristically aggressive this year. Must be hormones or something. Half the time, I feel like I¡¯m bursting out of my skin, itching for a scrap or to down a pint. Hell, even just to sneak off with a girl for a proper snog. But no one would understand. So here I am, living like a cross between a grumpy old man and a monk. Brilliant.


    Wood didn¡¯t get back for two hours, and he was still muttering threats when he did. Fred and George cuffed me on the back of the head for good measure, but they backed me up in the end, letting Wood know in no uncertain terms that if anyone was teaching me manners, it¡¯d be them. Turned out the Bludger had been cursed to take Harry out of the match¡ªcould¡¯ve been fatal if he weren¡¯t so quick on his feet.


    If Harry had been seriously injured, I reckon Dobby would¡¯ve swooped in to save him¡ªhis whole plan, after all, was to keep Harry alive but far away from Hogwarts. ¡°Better crippled than dead,¡± or something like that, wasn¡¯t it?


    The whole thing must¡¯ve rattled Dumbledore and Snape¡ªtwo years in a row now, and Harry¡¯s the target of another cursed object. Bet they¡¯re checking everyone¡¯s skulls for Dark Magic squatters. Snape¡¯s been hovering around us a lot more since then, clearly keeping an eye out. Can¡¯t say it¡¯s done much for his mood, though.


    Harry was let out just in time for dinner¡ªlooking chipper, healthy, and smug as ever about the win. After the meal, when we hid away in an empty classroom, he spilled the beans.


    Turns out Dobby had paid him a visit in the Hospital Wing. This time, his rambling made a bit more sense.


    ¡°He said,¡± Harry rattled off excitedly, ¡°that after the Dark Lord disappeared, life got better for house-elves. And now, apparently, I¡¯m some kind of hero to them! I don¡¯t really get why, though. Then he said he didn¡¯t mean me any harm¡ªhe just wanted to save me. That something terrible¡¯s brewing at Hogwarts, and if the Chamber of Secrets is opened again, the nightmare will return. Only this time, I might get hurt.¡±


    ¡°The Chamber of Secrets?¡± Hermione frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it. But if it¡¯s been opened before, and judging by what he said, someone must¡¯ve been hurt back then. We should look into it,¡± she added, already brimming with enthusiasm. ¡°By the way, what are house-elves exactly?¡± she asked as she started dragging us off to the library.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t deck him?¡± I asked while we clattered down the stairs. ¡°Forgave him, didn¡¯t you? You soft git¡ªhe nearly killed you!¡±


    ¡°Well, I felt sorry for him,¡± Harry mumbled, his face going red. ¡°He¡¯s so small and pitiful. He cried and had bandages on his hands¡ªhurt himself for going against his masters. Can you imagine? And he promised he wouldn¡¯t try saving me again.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a saint, Harry,¡± Hermione said with a pointed glare in my direction. I just snorted. ¡°You handled it perfectly. Did Dobby say who his master was?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Harry muttered in frustration. ¡°When I asked, his eyes bulged out, and he smashed a water jug on his head. Madam Pomfrey came running, but by the time she got there, he¡¯d already vanished.¡±


    Nothing else happened until Christmas. I spent most of my time at extra lessons with Flitwick, Hermione with McGonagall, and the rest of it in the library. We dug up some information about the Chamber of Secrets in ¡°Hogwarts: A History,¡± but there wasn¡¯t a word about its opening in the school¡¯s chronicles. Still, I let the kids enjoy their little mystery hunt¡ªI had other things on my mind.


    <hr>


    I kept bumping into Luna regularly¡ªusually just enough for a quick exchange of words on the stairs or in the entrance hall before breakfast or lunch. I didn¡¯t push to hang out more, figuring it¡¯d be good for her to make friends with other girls and settle into school life. She¡¯d have me around regardless.


    But things didn¡¯t turn out quite as rosy as I¡¯d hoped.


    Every day, she wrote to me in her notebook. About everything. It was like having a conversation with her, really. She¡¯d spot an interesting suit of armour or a crack in a window frame and jot down a couple of lines right away. At times, it felt like I was walking alongside her.


    Luna never complained, but through her cheerful words, you could sense a deep homesickness¡ªespecially for her dad. She felt out of place at Hogwarts, surrounded by so many people who didn¡¯t understand or even try to understand her. She missed her long walks through fields and hills. Here, they didn¡¯t want wonders springing from her imagination¡ªthey demanded spellwork exactly as instructed, robbing the magic of its spark and turning it into bookish drudgery.


    She enjoyed her lessons, though, and was considered one of the strongest in her year. But she had a habit of daydreaming and going off-topic. Ginny told me how, during Charms, Luna made her feather not just levitate but twirl like it was dancing, break into butterflies, flutter over everyone¡¯s heads, and then transform back into a feather before landing softly on her desk. Flitwick thought it was brilliant. McGonagall, on the other hand, was less impressed. She preferred precision and discipline, and Luna¡¯s whimsical approach didn¡¯t sit well with her, even though she excelled in the subject.


    Luna¡¯s favourite class, surprisingly, was Potions. She liked to experiment there, too, but always managed to get it right. And, to everyone¡¯s shock, Snape had become her favourite teacher. She even made him a Valentine¡ªa bright yellow card with a sun motif, decorated with fresh flowers and leaves. Alongside it was a string with an orange radish charm, like the one she¡¯d given me. I could only imagine his face when he received it.


    ¡°Everyone else will get loads of cards, Ron, but the professor¡¯s all alone,¡± she said matter-of-factly when I asked why Snape of all people, not someone like Lockhart or Flitwick. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s always dark and cold in the dungeons. That¡¯s probably why he looks so sad¡ªhe must miss the sun and warmth.¡±


    Can¡¯t argue with that...


    As always, Luna looked like herself¡ªdreamy, serene, and a bit disheveled. She had a Puffskein on one shoulder and a tiny dragon on the other. Her wand was often tucked into one of her braids or behind her ear like a pencil. The handle was adorned with little beads strung on thin cords¡ªsort of like the rowanberry necklaces Russian girls make in autumn. The wand in her hair resembled a wooden chopstick with dangling charms. Bright orange radishes dangled from her earrings. Altogether, her look was odd but endearing. I figured she was doing fine since she was dressed properly, so I stopped worrying. Big mistake.


    A couple of days before the holidays, I noticed her Puffskein was missing. At the time, I didn¡¯t think much of it, but when we returned after Christmas, it was still gone. Luna just smiled and changed the subject when I asked about it. Imagine my shock when I spotted it perched on Cho Chang¡¯s shoulder.


    Cho, a pretty girl a year ahead of us, always stood out with her exotic looks. But I hadn¡¯t expected her to be such a cow.


    I had a word. Didn¡¯t need to threaten her with violence or anything.


    ¡°Oi, doll,¡± I said, blocking her path. ¡°Your mum works at the Ministry, yeah? Well, if you don¡¯t return what¡¯s not yours to its rightful owner, people might find out her daughter¡¯s a thief. Imagine the gossip here at Hogwarts¡ªbullying first-years, no less. Think anyone¡¯d still want to date you then?¡±


    "You...!" she started, her face going red.


    "Yeah, me," I cut in, keeping my tone calm but firm. "Hope you¡¯ve got the message loud and clear. And don¡¯t you dare try anything with Luna, or I¡¯ll be adding my own little touch. You know who my brothers are, right? Wouldn¡¯t take much to get a recipe that''ll have you going bald and spotty for life."


    By dinnertime, Luna¡¯s Puffskein was back on her shoulder. Later that evening, though, three blokes cornered me. Turns out it was the lad who¡¯d been sweet on Cho Chang and his mates. If they¡¯d come at me with magic, I¡¯d have been done for, but the daft git decided to use his fists. Lucky for me, I¡¯m decent at that sort of thing, especially since I¡¯d learned to add a bit of magical oomph to my punches. The rest of the Gryffindor lot stayed out of it, of course. All four of us ended up in the hospital wing, but I came out of it the least worse for wear.


    Then the older Ravenclaw lads decided to have a go at "teaching me a lesson" about sticking my nose where it didn¡¯t belong. Tried three times. Would¡¯ve worn me down eventually¡ªfists are no match for older students¡ªbut word got out about why I was doing it. I¡¯ve got a feeling the twins might¡¯ve had a word with them. Say what you like about Fred and George, but they¡¯d bury someone with a shovel if it meant sticking up for family. After that, they left me alone.


    Not that it ended there. I lost count of the number of Luna¡¯s things I had to get back. Seems her house was full of people who fancied "borrowing" what wasn¡¯t theirs. I was knackered from all the fights and never-ending detentions. Hermione kept having a go at me for losing points, saying I was reckless. But I wasn¡¯t about to explain it all to her¡ªit was my problem to deal with.


    Then Percy got wind of it and went absolutely mental, even wrote to Mum about it. She sent a Howler that could make your ears bleed, ranting on about me brawling left and right. Ginny, of course, strutted around like her brother was some kind of superhero, while the lads from other houses kept their distance, and the girls started giving me these curious looks. Shame we were still kids¡ªcould¡¯ve made the most of the attention. Mum really did me a favour with that one.


    Still, it didn¡¯t fix Luna¡¯s problem. It wasn¡¯t just the lads nicking her stuff; it was the girls in her dorm, and I couldn¡¯t exactly belt them or scare them off.


    Then I had an idea. Went straight to Penelope, Ravenclaw¡¯s prefect, and gave her a piece of my mind about how useless she was at her job. Told her if she didn¡¯t sort it, I¡¯d take it to Flitwick and have her replaced by someone decent. She got all teary and ran off to tattle to Percy, who had a right go at me. Apparently, she sulked for two weeks after that. I didn¡¯t let up, though¡ªgave Percy an earful about choosing a girl over his family. Honestly, it was a proper mess.


    But can you blame me? Here¡¯s an example:


    "Why¡¯re you so late, Luna?" I asked one evening, catching her sneaking back to her tower just before curfew.


    "My dragon¡¯s wing got broken by the Nargles," she said softly, stroking the tiny figure. "We went to the healer."


    "There¡¯s a healer here?" I asked, my chest tightening at how sad she looked.


    "Of course," she said, brightening a bit. "Professor Kettleburn. He can fix any creature. Hagrid could too, but only the really alive ones, since he doesn¡¯t have a wand¡ªjust his umbrella. The professor taught me a spell so that if Layel ever breaks his wing or leg again, I can fix it myself. Isn¡¯t that brilliant?"


    "Yeah," I said, gritting my teeth and vowing to get rid of every bloody Nargle I could find.


    Then she frowned at me. "Ron, my charm isn¡¯t working for you. There are too many Wrackspurts around you. Here, take another one." She pulled off her necklace of radishes and handed me a few more. Without a second thought, I slipped them onto my cord. Didn¡¯t even ask why she had so many¡ªit was just Luna being Luna, I suppose. Maybe she needed the sunlight and warmth they represented just as much as I did.


    Strangely enough, after that, I felt calmer. I still threw punches and stood my ground, but it became less about the anger and more about doing what was right.


    I did try to cheer her up. Took her to see Hagrid a couple of times, even gave her a ride on my broom before curfew. But the cold set in, and even warming charms weren¡¯t enough, so we had to stop. Didn¡¯t want her catching something.


    At least people got the message¡ªmess with Luna, and I¡¯d be there to break a jaw. Shame that my sticking up for her didn¡¯t win her any friends. Might¡¯ve even made things worse. But it¡¯s alright. Luna¡¯s tough; she¡¯ll manage.

 Chapter 33

    During Christmas, most people went home, but the castle still felt festive. With Hermione away, Harry and I decided to skive off studying and amuse ourselves however we could.


    Every day, we visited Hagrid. He even took us into the Forbidden Forest to see unicorns and introduced us to a little tame thestral he¡¯d rescued. Oddly enough, we could see the baby clearly and even fed it some meat. With Hagrid leading the way in broad daylight, the forest wasn¡¯t the least bit scary. In fact, it was brilliant jumping through snowdrifts, trying to land in his massive footprints so we wouldn¡¯t sink waist-deep.


    We spent ages flying¡ªracing, catching the Snitch, and playing impromptu Quidditch matches with whoever stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays.


    Then there were the snowball fights. We buried each other in drifts, built snow creatures with the other lads, and brought them to life with spells to make them fight one another.


    We teased the girls too. They acted all aloof, refusing to join in, but they¡¯d squeal like mad if a snow-laden branch dumped on their heads or a bewitched snowball nicked their hats. The best was when a snow figure chased them right up to the castle doors, broomstick in hand. They¡¯d be too flustered to think of magic until the thing dissolved into slush at the threshold. Afterward, they¡¯d huff and scold us, but honestly, it was worth it.


    Even Filch wasn¡¯t spared. He absolutely lost it when he saw what Harry and I had made¡ªa menacing snowman with a coal-toothed grin, a bucket for a hat, and a broomstick at the ready. He screamed like a first-year and bolted, cursing us all the while. Well, what can you do? Boys will be boys.


    One of the best bits was building massive ice fortresses with magic, no hands required, then pelting each other with enchanted snowballs from behind the walls. It was miles better than regular snowball fights.


    We split into teams later, enchanted our boots for sliding, and played a sort of dodgeball on the frozen edges of the Black Lake. The aim? Shove someone as close to the open water as possible without actually dunking them. The older students helped by casting protective wards around the lake so no one fell in. Still, every time you slid toward the icy water, your heart raced, especially if the Giant Squid¡¯s tentacles decided to surface for a stretch.


    The older kids didn¡¯t bother with any safeguards. Their game was more brutal¡ªknocking each other into the water outright, relying on mates or magic to haul them back before they froze. Didn¡¯t know Hogwarts could be so lively during the holidays.


    The rest of the time, we explored the castle. At first, it was just idle wandering, but soon we got it into our heads to revisit the Beast Room and see if the troll was still down there.


    Turns out, no troll¡ªbut I did find rolls of its skin stashed away. Very distinctive, all lumpy and rough. Harry didn¡¯t mention it, probably to avoid upsetting me, but it¡¯s no secret wizards see magical creatures as little more than potion ingredients. Bit grim, really.


    The Beast Room itself was fuller than ever¡ªloads of snakes and toads crammed into aquariums. There was even some weird creature in a tank, all wiry fingers and a human-like face. We didn¡¯t stick around to study it, though. For all we knew, it could talk and land us in trouble.


    Exploring the dungeons turned up all sorts of oddities. One dusty old lab caught my interest. It had charts of human and horse anatomy and notes on compatibility¡ªproper intriguing stuff. Meanwhile, Harry was busy poking at weird contraptions.


    Another room looked like a museum, full of skeletons and jars of preserved¡­ bits. Definitely not human, but still creepy. Shame Dean, Seamus, and Neville weren¡¯t with us. Well, maybe not Neville¡ªthis wasn¡¯t his sort of thing.


    We also stumbled upon a decrepit theatre. It had this ancient curtain half falling down and a wardrobe stuffed with old costumes and props. We mucked about, throwing on cloaks and pretending to duel until we were sneezing from the dust. Harry really outdid himself, though¡ªhe threw on a wig, a lady¡¯s hat, and pranced about like Professor Vector. I nearly wet myself laughing.


    Then there was a ritual room¡ªpentagram on the floor, melted candles everywhere. When the candles flickered to life as we entered, we bolted without a second thought. Last thing we needed was to summon some demon by mistake.


    The creepiest find? A spotless cell right next to the Beast Room, complete with polished chains on the walls. Judging by the birch rods soaking in a tub nearby, it was Filch¡¯s personal domain. Bloke¡¯s a proper nutter. We peeked inside the isolation chamber, too¡ªstone walls, a grimy cot, and a barred door. Makes you wonder what punishments were like in the old days. Creepy stuff.


    On the bright side, we discovered an old dueling hall. It was massive and mostly empty, though a bit damp and mossy. We thought that was the highlight¡ªuntil we stumbled across a huge pool in the middle. Probably used for something, but who knows what?


    "Maybe it¡¯s some kind of ancient sports hall?" Harry suggested, his quiet words echoing against the stone walls. "You know, like fencing, wrestling, running, or something like that. I¡¯ll have a look over there, Ron."


    "Alright," I agreed, "but don¡¯t touch anything¡ªyou never know."


    "Got it," he replied, disappearing into the shadows.


    On my side, near the pool, it was a bit brighter. The water below seemed to have its own faint glow, though it was murky and silted, or maybe it was the stone itself emitting a dim light. It lit up about two metres around me with a cold, eerie gleam. I couldn¡¯t help but think about radiation or something worse.


    One of the nearest pillars stretched high into the darkness above, its surface covered in golden runes, accented with glinting bits of coloured stone that shimmered faintly under my Lumos. When I stepped closer and poked at one of the "runes," I realised they weren¡¯t runes at all but carvings of snakes or lizards intertwined in an intricate pattern, their gemstone eyes glinting menacingly. If this was a duelling or training hall, it was definitely designed for Slytherins. That thought barely crossed my mind before something distracted me.


    "Ron, give me a hand. Light it up, right there," Harry called.


    I followed his voice and the faint glow of his wand. He was standing by a heap of jagged stones.


    "Up there¡ªI saw an opening or a cave. I want to check it out," Harry explained, pointing. "See it? It¡¯s glowing a bit. Keep your wand lit for me."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    He stuffed his wand into his pocket, rolled up his sleeves, and started climbing the rocks. Sure enough, about six metres above the floor, there was a dark hole, faintly illuminated around the edges like the pool below. Harry climbed nimbly and quickly disappeared into the gap, though he reappeared almost immediately.


    "Nothing there," he grumbled, clearly annoyed. "Just a niche and a wall, that¡¯s it. Waste of time."


    With his Lumos on, he paced the small ledge a bit, peering at the walls. That¡¯s when I saw it¡ªa stone eye.


    "What the bloody hell?" I muttered, my stomach tightening. "Harry, get down from there! I don¡¯t like this."


    "Alright, alright," he called back, preparing to climb down. "Wait a sec¡ªthere¡¯s something written here," he added, squinting at the wall.


    "What does it say?" I asked automatically, though every instinct I had was screaming to leg it.


    "Hold on," Harry said, pressing closer to the wall, just out of sight. Then I froze¡ªhe was hissing. It took me a moment to realise it was Harry. The acoustics in the hall were perfect, and the hissing seemed to echo from everywhere, like every snake carved on the columns had suddenly come to life. Then it hit me.


    My blood ran cold. "Lumos Maxima!" I bellowed. Bright light flooded the hall, revealing the heap of stones for what it really was: a massive statue of an old man. Harry was standing on its lower lip, which was twisted in a frozen scream.


    "Have you lost your mind, Ron?" Harry snapped, shielding his eyes. "Nearly blinded me!"


    "Get down here! Now!" I yelled, my voice breaking. Harry got the message¡ªhe¡¯d never seen me this spooked. Without arguing, he began scrambling down.


    But he wasn¡¯t even halfway when a grinding noise echoed through the hall.


    "Move it, Harry!" I shouted, panicking, and he leapt the last four metres, landing awkwardly. I managed to cushion his fall slightly with a weak shield charm, but now we were in pitch blackness.


    Harry groaned as he rolled off the shield and hit the floor, winded. Meanwhile, I focused on the Path, willing it to take us somewhere safe.


    A faint, ghostly light appeared on the stone floor, leading away from the hall. I grabbed Harry¡¯s arm, not giving him a chance to recover, and we bolted.


    Behind us, the grinding noise grew louder, followed by a dragging sound, like a heavy sack being hauled across the floor. We didn¡¯t stick around to investigate. We ran through the hall, then through a dark maze of tunnels, until we stumbled into a brightly lit room, clutching our sides and gasping for air.


    The sudden light blinded us, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the entrance we¡¯d come through sealing shut.


    "Hey! This is the girls¡¯ bathroom!" an indignant, high-pitched voice shrieked, startling us out of our wits. The ghost of a plain-looking girl, maybe thirteen or fifteen, floated out of a stall. "What are you two doing here?"


    "Er¡­ we wanted to meet you," I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. My brain wasn¡¯t working after the fright. "You¡¯re Myrtle, right? Hermione told me about you. Thought we¡¯d wish you a Merry Christmas."


    "Really?" The ghost seemed to blush¡ªwell, darken a little. "That¡¯s¡­ sweet."


    "Yeah," I nodded, forcing a grin. "I¡¯m Ron, and this is Harry."


    "I¡¯m Elizabeth," she said shyly. "Well, Merry Christmas to you too, boys."


    "Merry Christmas," we chorused, inching towards the door.


    "You¡¯re leaving already?" she pouted, fiddling with a phantom spot on her chin. "I thought we could have a chat."


    "Er¡­ sure," I relented, plopping down on the floor and signalling Harry to do the same. Myrtle brightened¡ªliterally¡ªand settled a few inches above the ground.


    "Why don¡¯t you tell us how you¡­ you know, died?" I asked. Harry¡¯s jaw dropped, but Myrtle perked up.


    "Oh, you really want to know?" she gushed. "It was horrid. I was hiding in that stall from Olivia¡ªshe was mocking my new glasses," she added, giving Harry a pointed look that made him squirm. "Anyway, I was crying when I heard someone talking, but it was strange, like another language. I didn¡¯t understand it, but one of them was definitely a boy. I came out to tell him to shove off and stop spying on the girls, and then¡­ that¡¯s it."


    ¡°Did it kill you?¡± Harry asked, horrified, as Myrtle flushed faintly again.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± she admitted. ¡°All I remember are these two massive, yellow eyes. Then it felt like I was being yanked and pulled along, almost like travelling by Floo. Next thing I knew, I was here.¡±


    ¡°Blimey,¡± I muttered, genuinely impressed. ¡°That¡¯s one heck of an adventure. But didn¡¯t you see a light or something like that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I did,¡± Myrtle nodded. ¡°But I wanted to make that Hornby cow regret mocking my glasses. And¡­ oh, she certainly did. I made sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Do you still see the light?¡± I asked curiously. It genuinely fascinated me, considering I¡¯d never seen anything like that. One moment, I¡¯d just¡­ found myself in this body. Guess the afterlife¡¯s different for everyone.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± the ghost replied, looking a bit downcast. ¡°But I try not to focus on it¡ªit¡¯s so¡­ bright, if you get what I mean.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s got to be a good sign, hasn¡¯t it? Means there¡¯s something wonderful waiting for you on the other side. Maybe now that you¡¯ve sorted your unfinished business¡ªgot your revenge¡ªyou could give it a go? Who knows? Your family might be waiting for you. Or maybe a boyfriend. You¡¯re a pretty girl, Myrtle, and let¡¯s be honest, there aren¡¯t exactly many young or good-looking ghosts around here to chat with¡ªor go on dates or, I dunno, take a stroll with. Must get awfully dull.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but think, grimly, that if the war ever came, the castle might just end up with a fair few more young ghosts, much as it pained me to imagine.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± she admitted, her form darkening slightly, clearly upset. ¡°It does get terribly lonely. But¡­ I¡¯m still too scared to leave. You¡¯ll come back to visit me, though, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I promised easily. ¡°Although, you know how it is with schoolwork¡ªbarely any time to breathe, let alone visit. And we¡¯re not here forever, either. Just a few more years, then we¡¯ll graduate. Anyway, thanks for the story, Myrtle. You¡¯re a cracking storyteller. Take care, yeah? And if you ever decide to leave, call us¡ªwe¡¯ll see you off.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost the plot,¡± Harry blurted out as we headed back to the tower to change for dinner. ¡°Why are you encouraging that miserable ghost?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± I said matter-of-factly, ¡°I think we¡¯ve just stumbled onto the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. You know, the one Dobby mentioned? And Myrtle¡­ well, I reckon she¡¯s the poor victim that monster killed all those years ago.¡±


    Harry stopped dead in his tracks, going pale as chalk. He stayed silent the rest of the way, shooting me increasingly worried looks.


    ¡°So, what do we do now?¡± he asked nervously after we¡¯d changed and settled by the common room fire.


    ¡°No idea,¡± I admitted. ¡°But you can tell me what exactly you were hissing back there by the statue.¡±


    ¡°Hissing?¡± Harry repeated, looking more alarmed by the second. ¡°I wasn¡¯t hissing!¡±


    ¡°You were,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Don¡¯t argue¡ªI know what I heard.¡±


    ¡°How could I be hissing without realising it?¡± he said, utterly bewildered.


    ¡°It¡¯s called Parseltongue¡ªthe snake language,¡± I explained. ¡°Not everyone can understand it, you know. You were speaking it and clearly understood it yourself, but to me? Just sounded like hissing.¡±


    ¡°Snakes, really?¡± Harry looked puzzled for a moment before it hit him. ¡°Oh¡­ well, that makes sense, I guess. I did talk to a boa constrictor at the zoo once.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said. ¡°You hiss like a snake, and those carvings¡ªsnakes everywhere, from the walls to that pool. I reckon the monster in the Chamber is a bloody great ancient snake. So, what did you read?¡±


    ¡°Not much,¡± Harry stammered, clearly still rattled. ¡°¡®Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Brilliant, Harry,¡± I said with a shaky laugh. ¡°I think we just woke up the monster.¡±

 Chapter 34

    The boy stared at me in stunned silence for a good five minutes, barely even breathing.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be,¡± he finally managed to say. ¡°Are you sure, Ron? Do you think that¡¯s why Dobby didn¡¯t want me to come back to school? Did he know I could¡­ hurt the other students?¡± Harry¡¯s words came in a rush, then he froze.


    ¡°So¡­ does this mean I¡¯m the Heir of Slytherin? Am I¡­?¡±


    ¡°Oi, slow down,¡± I interrupted before he could spiral into full-blown panic. ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves or we¡¯ll end up blaming Merlin next. We don¡¯t even know if the monster¡¯s awake. All we heard was the entrance opening, not the beast itself. Maybe it¡¯s just the lair¡¯s password activating in Parseltongue. Nothing bad¡¯s happened yet. You¡¯ve read Hogwarts: A History¡ªthe monster only acts on the Heir¡¯s orders.¡± I added that last bit more to calm him down than because I believed it. His panic was getting to me. ¡°You didn¡¯t touch or read anything else in there, did you?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not!¡± Harry said quickly. ¡°So what do we do now?¡± He still sounded unsure, but at least he wasn¡¯t on the verge of losing it.


    ¡°First, we head to the library,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll look up what kind of giant snake it could be. Best to know what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    ¡°And when we find it?¡± Harry asked, curiosity sparking again. ¡°Why are you so sure it¡¯s huge?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember that pipe we ran past?¡± I asked. ¡°The one on the right, near the exit? That wasn¡¯t a pipe¡ªit was a shed snakeskin.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Harry gasped. ¡°But it was¡­ it was at least twenty feet long!¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not called a monster for nothing,¡± I pointed out. ¡°And who knows, maybe it shed that skin ages ago¡ªcould be twice the size now. Come on, let¡¯s grab some dinner and head to the library first thing in the morning.¡±


    Neither of us was in much of a mood for conversation. After dinner, we went back to the empty common room and, without a word, worked on a couple of essays for homework. Then we went to bed early. Neither of us felt like discussing the unknown monster, but it was all I could think about. I slept terribly and woke up ridiculously early. So did Harry, by the looks of it.


    ¡°Ron, maybe we should wait for Hermione,¡± Harry suggested on the way to the library. ¡°She¡¯s better at finding things in books. She¡¯d figure it out faster than us.¡±


    ¡°Oh sure,¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°Let¡¯s tell her about the monster so she can start jumping at every shadow.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± Harry admitted after a moment¡¯s thought.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I added, ¡°what¡¯s there to figure out? We¡¯ll grab a couple of Bestiaries. Salazar lived a thousand years ago¡ªmodern books won¡¯t cut it. Doubt Hogwarts has much on mythical creatures.¡±


    I was right. The librarian, bleary-eyed and clearly annoyed at having visitors so early, handed over three ancient tomes that looked like they were as old as Slytherin himself. The creatures inside were absolutely vile¡ªpure nightmare fuel. Plenty of snakes, all long extinct, of course.


    There was the Spotted Winged Serpent, which spat acid five metres.


    The ¡°Breath of Death,¡± a ten-foot-long serpent that exhaled poison capable of dissolving flesh.


    A Water Serpent that poisoned entire ponds before hunting.


    And the Fire Wyrm, which not only spat venom that liquefied its prey but also left trails of fire just from moving across the ground.


    All of them had been bred by wizards and later wiped out¡ªprobably because they started eating their creators.


    ¡°Er¡­ Ron, I think I¡¯ve found it,¡± Harry said, interrupting my reading as he held out a massive book. ¡°Look¡ªBasilisk. It kills with a single look. And remember how Myrtle said the last thing she saw was big yellow eyes? Sounds about right, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Bingo, Harry, I thought, eyeing the diagram of the creature¡ªa huge snake with a crown-like horned crest on its triangular head, hatched from a chicken egg incubated by a toad.


    ¡°It says here spiders are terrified of it,¡± Harry pointed out, jabbing his finger at a paragraph. ¡°And it obeys only the one who created it¡ªor their descendants¡ªwho can speak Parseltongue. But I haven¡¯t ordered it to do anything yet. That means the students are safe, doesn¡¯t it?¡± He sounded almost hopeful.


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± I said, dragging him back to reality. ¡°We¡¯ve no clue what instructions the original owner left in case the snake woke up. Last time, a girl was killed. What if it¡¯s still set to target Muggle-borns? But that¡¯s only if it¡¯s actually awake,¡± I added quickly when Harry went pale. ¡°Let¡¯s keep an eye on the spiders. If they start scarpering, or you hear that voice again, we¡¯ll go straight to Dumbledore.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Harry started to protest.


    ¡°Harry, let¡¯s be real. Say the snake is awake. Maybe it¡¯ll slither around quietly in the dungeons. But we¡¯ve no idea how the doors and passages to its lair are enchanted. We got in without hissing, and the entrance closed behind us. If the locks are all Parseltongue-based, what¡¯s stopping the snake from hissing them open and leaving? Might not come straight to the Great Hall, sure, but what if someone else is poking about, exploring the castle? What about Filch, trying to cut through a shortcut? Anyway, if the spiders bolt and you start hearing voices, we go straight to the Headmaster. Agreed?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Harry muttered, trailing after me, looking miserable.


    ¡°Oi, what¡¯s with the long face?¡± I asked, catching up to him. ¡°Worried they¡¯ll expel you? You¡¯re not at fault. The castle¡¯s meant to be explored. We didn¡¯t break any rules, so we¡¯re not in trouble. The staff¡¯ll call in specialists to deal with the snake. End of story.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± Harry grumbled. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ can you imagine what¡¯ll happen at school? People already give me funny looks, wondering how I killed a powerful wizard as a baby. And if they find out I can talk to snakes? They¡¯ll run for the hills. They¡¯ll start calling me the Dark Lord, I just know it. You said yourself Parseltongue¡¯s a rare gift. He¡¯s the only other wizard who had it. Why do I have to be such a bloody freak, always in the middle of things?¡± He punched the wall in frustration.


    "Don¡¯t mope; there¡¯s still a chance the snake¡¯s long gone and croaked ages ago," I said, giving Harry a reassuring clap on the shoulder.


    "Yeah, right, not with my luck," he muttered, though he did seem to cheer up a bit.


    By the next evening, the castle was back to its usual hustle and bustle as the students returned. Two days of idleness later, the holidays ended, and we fell back into the familiar routine of school life.


    Harry hadn¡¯t heard anything odd since, nobody had been Petrified, and the castle was still crawling with spiders¡ªnot literally, though; it was winter, and most of them were hiding from the cold. The one in our dorm didn¡¯t seem inclined to scarper, either. Even Dobby hadn¡¯t made another appearance. Gradually, we let ourselves relax.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Gryffindor smashed it in the last two Quidditch matches, practically guaranteeing the House Cup, which put McGonagall in a cracking mood.


    Snape, of course, still kept an eye on us, but nothing too over the top¡ªmore like he was just waiting for us to slip up. Judging by his expression, he wasn¡¯t entirely convinced we weren¡¯t up to no good, but he didn¡¯t have proof. After the whole Chamber incident, we¡¯d been keeping our heads down. Even Harry had started knuckling down with his studies. Hermione was in full-on drill sergeant mode¡ªshe¡¯d whipped up a revision schedule for exams ages in advance. Even Neville got dragged into it. She worked him as hard as us, bless her, and the poor bloke didn¡¯t have it in him to say no. She¡¯d make a right terror of a teacher one day.


    I barely had time to keep tabs on Harry myself, what with Flitwick piling on the coursework and me running interference for Luna every other day when her stuff got nicked. Then, in the spring, Mrs. Norris was Petrified.


    It happened a couple of weeks before Easter hols. At first, the cat just went missing. Filch spent a solid week wandering the castle with bits of ham, calling for her like a madman. He even ignored Peeves¡¯ antics, which had to be a record, and didn¡¯t snap at a single student. But Mrs. Norris didn¡¯t turn up.


    Now, I wasn¡¯t exactly Filch¡¯s biggest fan, what with his knack for being an outright git, but the look on his face when he realised she wasn¡¯t coming back¡ªit was rough. We Gryffindors actually teamed up with the Hufflepuffs that weekend to help look for her. I considered using the Way to have a proper search, but honestly? I didn¡¯t fancy running into the Basilisk. No way was I risking it for Filch¡¯s cat.


    The teachers offered their condolences and then just carried on, suggesting he get another cat. Even Dumbledore, after a polite word of concern, seemed ready to leave it at that. He and Snape had just stepped outside for some air when Filch cornered them, still clutching his scraps of ham.


    Oddly enough, it was Snape who showed a bit of humanity. He suggested they try summoning the cat in case she was injured somewhere. Of course, he made it sound like he was doing everyone a huge favour, but still¡ªhe tried.


    Anyway, Snape cast some charm that looked a derivative from Carpe Retractum, and after a few minutes, Mrs. Norris¡¯ stiff, frozen body came flying in from the direction of the forest. I thought Filch was going to keel over then and there, the way he started wailing.


    Dumbledore suddenly seemed interested. He cast a couple of spells on the cat, frowned, and whisked her and Filch off to the castle. Snape followed, tossing me one of his patented ¡°I¡¯m watching you¡± looks before stalking off dramatically.


    By the time I turned back around, Harry had vanished. He skipped dinner, too. Hermione and I searched everywhere for him. We couldn¡¯t risk using the Way, so it was a wild goose chase. Just when I was about to go get McGonagall involved, Harry turned up.


    Hermione tore into him like a Howler, delivering a lecture that must¡¯ve gone on for twenty minutes. Honestly, she¡¯d lost some steam by the end¡ªprobably too relieved to stay properly angry. After she was sure he was alright, she stomped off to bed.


    That left me to give Harry the third degree. He looked knackered and a bit miserable, but he¡¯d been acting off for a while¡ªdistracted and broody. Any time I asked what was up, he¡¯d just say he was fine. I figured it was Hermione grinding him down with revision schedules. Poor Neville looked just as fed up.


    "Look, Harry," I said, getting straight to the point, "we¡¯re going to Dumbledore first thing tomorrow. No more mucking about."


    "But what if it was a mistake?" Harry said uncertainly. "What if it didn¡¯t mean to Petrify Mrs. Norris? If it wanted to kill her, wouldn¡¯t it have eaten her straight off?"


    "Who¡¯s ¡®it¡¯? The snake?" I asked, a bit confused. "Mate, I don¡¯t claim to be an expert on Basilisks, but I couldn¡¯t care less why it went after the cat. The point is, it¡¯s awake, and people could get hurt. We¡¯re going to Dumbledore. You agreed."


    Harry opened his mouth like he wanted to argue but then thought better of it. He clamped his mouth shut, nodded, and said, "Alright. You¡¯re right, Ron. We can¡¯t let anyone else get hurt. Tomorrow morning, we¡¯ll go."


    He even managed a tired smile before heading up the stairs to bed. And I thought that was the end of it. But when I woke up the next morning, Harry was gone.


    All I found was a note.


    That idiot had written that he¡¯d try sorting the problem himself first, and if he wasn¡¯t back by breakfast, then I should go straight to the Headmaster and spill the beans about the basilisk. Ever the optimist, he reckoned everything would be fine¡ªhe¡¯d thought it all through, and the risk was ¡°minimal.¡± And he¡¯d explain everything in detail afterwards¡ªif he came back, of course.


    At that moment, I hated the brat more than ever.


    It was obvious he¡¯d gone after the basilisk alone¡ªyou didn¡¯t need Trelawney¡¯s crystal ball to see that. Judging by the barely rumpled bed, he¡¯d snuck off in the middle of the night. Potter was a proper Gryffindor nutter¡ªno brakes, no limits. Once he got an idea into his thick skull, neither logic nor reason could stop him. I¡¯d learnt that well enough during the business with Snape and the Philosopher¡¯s Stone.


    My first instinct was to leg it straight to Dumbledore. But as I fumbled about in the dark for my clothes, I reconsidered. There was still an hour till breakfast. Either Harry was still alive and fine, or the basilisk had already eaten him¡ªand in that case, rushing wouldn¡¯t help much. Either way, there was no point in panicking.


    That hour was the longest of my life. The minute hand on the clock in the common room barely seemed to move. The lads woke up, came downstairs, and headed off to breakfast. Hermione popped in but dashed off again to swap a book with someone in Ravenclaw, saying she¡¯d meet us in the Great Hall. Before long, the common room was empty, leaving me alone with the silence.


    And then Harry burst in, making a racket. He nearly tripped over the carpet and sent a suit of armour crashing to the floor when he grabbed it for balance. His eyes were blazing with excitement, and there was a triumphant smirk plastered across his face. He looked chuffed to bits¡ªat least until he caught sight of my cold, deadpan glare.


    ¡°Er¡­ Ron,¡± he started, hesitating as I slowly stood up. Oh, he knew what was coming. Dead men don¡¯t get told off, but the living? Fair game. ¡°You¡¯re angry, aren¡¯t you? Of course you are¡­¡± He began babbling nervously, trying to justify himself under my withering stare as he edged closer. ¡°But it worked! I¡¯m alive, see? Everything¡¯s fine. I sorted it¡ªI¡¯ve dealt with the basilisk.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say a word. Just stood up and smacked him right in the nose. Then, as he grabbed his face, I landed another blow to his side.


    ¡°That¡¯s for lying, Potter,¡± I snarled, standing over him as he doubled over, clutching his ribs. ¡°And for Hermione¡ªI owed you that one.¡±


    Harry winced but managed to sit up on the sofa, dabbing at the trickle of blood under his nose with a handkerchief. I hadn¡¯t hit him too hard¡ªjust enough to make a point. When he finally looked up, he met my glare with a steady, calm gaze.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong, you know,¡± he said, sounding far too composed for someone who¡¯d just been clocked. ¡°Yes, I didn¡¯t tell you, but I sorted it the way I thought best¡ªwithout putting anyone else in danger. I learnt that lesson after what happened to Hermione. But can¡¯t I decide what to do with my own life without needing permission?¡±


    ¡°Permission?¡± I snapped, narrowing my eyes. ¡°We agreed¡ªafter we spoke to Myrtle¡ªthat if anything happened, we¡¯d go straight to the Headmaster. And then you went and cooked up this harebrained scheme without so much as mentioning it to me. What do I get? A bloody note. Is that your idea of friendship, Harry? Friendship¡¯s a team game, not you playing solo Seeker while the rest of us cover for you.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have agreed,¡± Harry shot back stubbornly.


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I admitted. ¡°But you didn¡¯t even give me the chance to try. You didn¡¯t share your plan¡ªyou just went off on your own. And for the record, I still think the simplest, smartest thing to do was to tell the staff.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d have killed the basilisk!¡± Harry exclaimed, springing to his feet. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have listened¡ªthey¡¯d just kill her outright. And Zara didn¡¯t mean to petrify Mrs Norris!¡±


    ¡°Zara?¡± I choked out.


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Harry mumbled, looking sheepish. ¡°She¡¯s a girl, see? So I thought, like, Salazar¡ªZara¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, that explains everything,¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°Don¡¯t you try and wriggle out of this, hero.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be cross, Ron,¡± Harry said imploringly, scooting closer and giving me a light nudge with his shoulder. ¡°I was wrong to leave you a note instead of talking to you. I won¡¯t do it again, I promise. But you¡¯ve got to let me handle things my way sometimes. Isn¡¯t that the team game  you wanted?¡± he added cheekily, looking me straight in the eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I conceded reluctantly. ¡°I¡¯m not your nanny. But no more sneaking about behind my back, got it?¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± Harry beamed. ¡°And now I¡¯ve got loads to tell you! Oh, and¡ªyou don¡¯t fancy meeting the basilisk, do you?¡±

 Chapter 35

    We didn¡¯t get a chance to talk properly. The common room filled up again as students returned, and it got too noisy, so we slipped out and hid behind our oak tree by the lake.


    ¡°I started hearing the voice about two weeks ago,¡± Harry confessed, looking guilty as sin.


    ¡°So, you kept it quiet for two weeks while risking everyone else¡¯s lives?¡± I said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Bravo, Harry. Really top work. Why am I not surprised?¡±


    ¡°No, Ron!¡± Harry snapped, his face flushing. ¡°The snake didn¡¯t want to hurt anyone. It was just hissing, ¡®Master... I can feel the master... soon... soon I¡¯ll find you... I¡¯m coming for you.¡¯¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Right. And that¡¯s all it said? Nothing else?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Harry said, shaking his head. ¡°It just kept following me. Slithering along behind the walls wherever I went in the corridors. I thought if I ignored it, maybe it¡¯d leave me alone and go back to sleep. But then it started whispering about being hungry¡­ needing food. And then, well, the thing with the cat happened¡­¡±


    ¡°And your brilliant solution was to go straight to the starving snake?¡± I scoffed. ¡°You¡¯ve got a death wish, Potter.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t take the mickey,¡± Harry muttered, looking embarrassed. ¡°I know it wasn¡¯t the best idea, but it worked, didn¡¯t it? You can¡¯t imagine how magnificent she is! Massive! Eyes like this¡ª¡± He gestured dramatically.


    ¡°Hang on, why didn¡¯t you get petrified?¡± I asked, a sudden thought popping into my head. I couldn¡¯t help wondering about basilisk venom and Horcruxes. Trust Harry¡¯s reckless idiocy to work in our favor.


    ¡°She¡¯s got this sort of membrane over her eyes,¡± Harry explained, sounding far too pleased with himself. ¡°She only pulls it back when she¡¯s bathing or intentionally trying to petrify something. But she hardly ever uses it¡ªonly in self-defense or on command. And she doesn¡¯t eat petrified animals. She hunts without venom, even.¡±


    ¡°So why¡¯d the cat get petrified, then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Zara didn¡¯t touch her!¡± Harry said indignantly. ¡°She told me there¡¯s a vent leading from the Forbidden Forest into her catacombs¡ªfor ventilation. It¡¯s got enchantments to lure small prey in¡ªrabbits, voles, other snakes, rats¡ªso she can hunt. But it¡¯s also got a barrier to stop familiars from sneaking through, something like paralyzing charms. Mrs. Norris must¡¯ve sensed the basilisk and was keeping watch. She¡¯s always snooping around and reporting back to Filch.¡±


    ¡°And what about people?¡± I asked, feeling a chill creep up my spine. It made a grim sort of sense¡ªMrs. Norris being the first to get petrified when Ginny tracked Zara down.


    ¡°The vent¡¯s too small for people to fit through,¡± Harry said quickly. ¡°And it¡¯s enchanted so wizards and magical creatures won¡¯t notice it. Ron, do you think they¡¯ll be able to save Mrs. Norris?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll save her,¡± I said with a shrug, leaning back against the tree and chewing on a blade of grass. ¡°The mandrakes are ready now.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ do you think they¡¯ll figure out Zara, then?¡± Harry asked nervously.


    ¡°Why would they?¡± I said with a skeptical squint. ¡°They didn¡¯t last time, did they? Basilisks have been considered extinct for a thousand years, and there are loads of dark curses with similar petrifying effects. Back when Myrtle died, they blamed Hagrid¡¯s pet.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking?¡± Harry gasped.


    ¡°Nope. He spent two months in Azkaban while they investigated,¡± I said. ¡°He was only thirteen at the time. If Dumbledore hadn¡¯t vouched for him, it¡¯d have ended badly. Even so, he was lucky Myrtle was Muggle-born. If she¡¯d been pure-blood, they¡¯d have executed him outright. As it was, they decided he was too young to blame entirely, so they let him off with a lifetime ban on magic and a job as the groundskeeper, thanks to Dumbledore¡¯s intervention.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awful¡­ Do they really lock kids up in Azkaban?¡± Harry asked in a hushed voice.


    ¡°Not wizarding kids, no. But Hagrid¡¯s half-giant,¡± I said. ¡°The magical community treats him as a beast, not a person. He¡¯s got no rights. As long as he keeps his head down, they act like he doesn¡¯t exist. But give them a reason, and he¡¯d be back in Azkaban faster than you could blink. Giants are treated like creatures¡ªsame as Veela and werewolves.¡±


    ¡°But Professor Flitwick¡¯s part goblin,¡± Harry said uncertainly.


    ¡°Goblins are different,¡± I explained. ¡°They¡¯re a race of magical beings¡ªfierce and proud. When wizards tried to oppress them, the goblins fought back with a vengeance. There were bloody uprisings, then a full-scale war. They wiped the floor with us using their own magic and brute force. In the end, someone bright enough decided to sign a treaty, splitting up power. That¡¯s why wizards begrudgingly respect goblins. Honestly, Harry, weren¡¯t you paying attention in Binns¡¯ class?¡±


    Harry waved me off impatiently. ¡°Never mind the goblins. What about Hagrid?¡±


    ¡°Forget Hagrid for now. What about Zara?¡± I said, smirking. ¡°You¡¯re dodging the real story.¡±


    Harry sighed. ¡°Fine. Through the wall, I promised her food to get her to talk.¡±


    ¡°And then you showed up in person,¡± I said, unable to hold back a laugh. I burst out properly when I saw his scowl.


    ¡°Prat,¡± Harry muttered, turning away. But he couldn¡¯t stay cross for long. ¡°Ron, she said she senses part of her master¡¯s magic in me. Without it, she can¡¯t go back to sleep. There¡¯s some sort of charm to keep her young and dormant, but it needs reactivating. She promised to sleep again if we feed her first. But here¡¯s the thing, Ron¡ª¡± Harry hesitated. ¡°She needs two pigs. Or a ram. Where on earth are we supposed to find those at Hogwarts?¡±


    ¡°Not a problem,¡± I replied, pondering the options. ¡°We¡¯ll rope the twins in. Only thing is, I don¡¯t have any Galleons¡ªjust Muggle money.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some!¡± Harry grinned, looking far too pleased with himself.


    ¡°Right, but why¡¯s she so hungry if she¡¯s been hunting?¡± I asked as we made our way back to the castle.


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t eaten properly in years,¡± Harry explained, clearly on the defensive. ¡°Rats and rabbits aren¡¯t enough for her. She needs a proper meal to get her strength up before she goes back to sleep¡ªsomething to last her a good while.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯ll need you to ask her for some venom. Think she¡¯d give it up?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll ask,¡± Harry said easily, grinning like he¡¯d just won the House Cup. He was absolutely chuffed with himself¡ªnew adventure, pet basilisk, the whole nine yards. Honestly, the bloke¡¯s got no sense of self-preservation, and don¡¯t even get me started on the hero complex. Now he¡¯s not just the Boy Who Lived; he¡¯s the heir of Slytherin, or close enough. Absolutely mental.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    <hr>


    The operation kicked off by the end of the week. The twins didn¡¯t let us down, though we had to get creative.


    ¡°Fred, George, got a plan,¡± I said, pulling them aside. ¡°Need your help.¡±


    They shared a look, smirking. ¡°Go on, then. If it¡¯s trouble, we¡¯re in.¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s the idea,¡± I began. ¡°We get two pigs in Hogsmeade. Quietly. Harry and I¡¯ll release them in the girls¡¯ showers near Herbology. Pigs go mental, girls run screaming out half-dressed, and then¡ªbam! Colin with his camera. Filtch¡¯ll lose it chasing them down. Serves him right; ever since Mrs. Norris got restored, he¡¯s been insufferable.¡±


    The twins howled with laughter, but it wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d invented the idea. Older students had been pranking each other in the showers for years. Snakes, mice, even magical concoctions to attract cats¡ªnothing new there.


    ¡°Brother George,¡± Fred declared, feigning a tearful sniff, ¡°our little Ronniekins is all grown up.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Brother Fred,¡± George replied, clapping me on the shoulder. ¡°We thought you¡¯d turned out like Percy¡ªno fun at all.¡±


    ¡°Alright, pay up, Ron,¡± Fred said once they were done taking the piss out of me. ¡°Six Galleons for the pigs, three for an enchanted bag.¡±


    ¡°George,¡± I added, trying to sound casual, ¡°could you grab me four neutral crystal vials while you¡¯re at it? Five ounces each, with white stone stoppers.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± George asked, narrowing his eyes.


    ¡°Gifts,¡± I lied smoothly. ¡°End-of-term stuff. Can¡¯t exactly nip out of school myself.¡±


    He seemed satisfied, though the fancy vials weren¡¯t cheap. I winced, handing over the coins, but at least I didn¡¯t have to fleece Harry for the money.


    <hr>


    After exams, we made our move. Most of the students had cleared out for the afternoon, so Harry and I slipped down to the Chamber of Secrets.


    Harry checked that Myrtle wasn¡¯t in her toilet before opening the passage, and down we went. To this day, I don¡¯t know what possessed me to go along with it. Maybe I figured the basilisk wouldn¡¯t attack since Harry had that bit of Voldemort¡¯s soul in him. If she thought he was her master, she¡¯d obey. Still, I had to wonder¡ªif I got my hands on the diadem Horcrux, would she listen to me too? Pity there weren¡¯t any books in Hogwarts about this sort of thing.


    The basilisk was massive¡ªway bigger than I¡¯d imagined. I¡¯d pictured something as big as the Hogwarts Express, but she wasn¡¯t quite there. Still, at least fifteen meters long and twice the girth of an anaconda.


    When she spoke to Harry, I could barely hear it¡ªa faint, hissing whisper, like air escaping a tire. But when Harry answered, the sound was louder, sharper. It hit me then¡ªthey weren¡¯t just speaking out loud. It was more... mental, like they were in each other¡¯s heads. Did Harry even realise?


    She gave up the venom easily enough. Apparently, she didn¡¯t need it for hunting¡ªjust for defence. Salazar Slytherin had even left a contraption for collecting it: a massive stone bowl with a slab in the middle, like a tombstone. The snake bit down on it, and the venom dripped into the basin.


    The amount was staggering¡ªnearly a litre of thick, green venom. Way more than I¡¯d expected. Safe to say, the operation was a success.


    The basin had a stone channel underneath, which let the venom flow neatly into a container¡ªbut only when you placed the flask properly on the platform. It was all very precise, thank Merlin, because even though I¡¯d brought my dragon-hide gloves, they wouldn¡¯t have helped much if even a single drop splashed. One wobble, and I¡¯d be done for.


    Turns out, I¡¯d wasted my money on those flasks¡ªthere were loads already here, clearly meant for venom collection. We ended up with five and a bit flasks, each holding five ounces.


    After that, Zara had her meal. It was...mesmerising to watch, though Harry went white as a sheet, and I felt a bit queasy myself when the pigs started squealing like mad. The moment we let them out of the bag, they expanded to full size and woke up properly. Looked like Fred decided to make Filch¡¯s life extra hard and got wild, hairy black hogs¡ªproper loud and quick on their feet. Harry and I scrambled onto a statue while Zara elegantly snapped them up, two gulps each. I reckon she could¡¯ve fit a couple more in, easy.


    While Harry was settling her down to sleep again, I poked around the Chamber looking for shed skin. All I found was a scrappy bit about a metre long, snagged on some jagged stone where she¡¯d slithered past.


    The skin itself was a surprise. I¡¯d thought it¡¯d be tough like dragon hide, but it was thin¡ªalmost like parchment¡ªexcept stretchy, a bit like nylon. I rolled it up, and it ended up no thicker than a towel. There wasn¡¯t any more to be found, though. Tom must¡¯ve nicked the rest ages ago, and the bit near the exit was so old it crumbled at a touch. I left it alone.


    I also found a broken tooth¡ªnot a fang, mind you, but still sharp enough to do the job. Figured it¡¯d work just as well as Gryffindor¡¯s sword if the situation called for it. You never know¡ªmaybe just pouring venom on a Horcrux would do the trick, but stabbing it might be necessary. Best to have both options. I tucked it away carefully to avoid cutting myself.


    In the end, I didn¡¯t collect much in the way of trophies. What I did have, I stashed in my bag with the Undetectable Extension Charm.


    At least the skin wasn¡¯t radiating any dark magic. If it had been, I¡¯ve no idea how I¡¯d have smuggled it out. Even so, I wasn¡¯t sure if it was actually worth taking. Maybe I was lugging it around for nothing.


    The twins were easy to deal with. I told them Snape had caught me and confiscated the pigs, then given me detention cleaning cauldrons. They had a good laugh at my expense and said it was too early for me to try pulling stunts on the older girls. Then George winked and, lowering his voice, promised to teach me a few proper tricks when I was older.


    As for Mrs. Norris, she was unpetrified in no time. There was a bit of half-hearted investigation into who might¡¯ve cursed the cat, but no one really cared. Filch had plenty of enemies, and wizards aren¡¯t exactly known for being kind, even to their own. A cat didn¡¯t stand a chance. The whole thing blew over quickly, though Filch became even more insufferable, prowling the castle and nitpicking over every little thing.


    Meanwhile, I had other priorities. About a week before we left for summer, I snuck into the Room of Requirement under Harry¡¯s Invisibility Cloak. I was hunting for the diadem but came up empty-handed¡ªeven after returning a couple more times. Maybe it was charmed to avoid detection, or maybe the Room itself couldn¡¯t guide me to it. Whatever the reason, it was frustrating.


    Eventually, I roped Harry into coming along. He was gobsmacked by the sheer amount of rubbish in there, but we had a good rummage. I stayed close, counting turns off the main path while he explored. Along the way, I destroyed the Vanishing Cabinet, just in case.


    And then, just like that, Harry stumbled on the diadem. He didn¡¯t think much of it, plonked it on some random bust that already had a wig, and stuck the Horcrux on top. Then he wandered off, as if it were no big deal. Looks like Horcruxes are drawn to each other.


    After dinner, I went back alone, checked the diadem with my magic, and didn¡¯t sense anything too dodgy¡ªjust the neutral hum of an enchanted object. I picked it up, turned it over in my hands, but resisted the faint urge to try it on.


    It hit me that Tom probably had a system with his Horcruxes. Some, like the diadem, were designed to influence people¡ªto make them wear it obsessively or scribble in the diary without a second thought. Those were meant to act as beacons, giving the fragment of his soul a way to regain a body or take over someone¡¯s. That¡¯s probably why they weren¡¯t heavily protected¡ªbecause their job was to seek out a host. Like when Lucius slipped the diary into Ginny¡¯s cauldron, following instructions from the Dark Lord himself.


    The rest, though, were his backup plan¡ªproperly hidden and well-defended, like a paranoid maniac¡¯s emergency supply. By then, he was full-on Voldemort, completely unhinged. But it¡¯s all guesswork. I¡¯ll never know the truth.


    Anyway, I set the diadem on the floor and poured venom over it. Didn¡¯t go overboard, but it was a shame to destroy something so beautiful. The venom hissed, the jewels darkened, and the delicate metalwork melted. A high, keening scream rang out¡ªlike that of a terrified woman¡ªand black smoke billowed from the diadem before it cracked in two. And that¡¯s how I destroyed my first Horcrux.


    The cleanup was the worst bit. Venom had seeped into the floor, along with some nasty black goo, and I couldn¡¯t just leave it. Someone else might stumble across it¡ªlike Trelawney in a drunken haze¡ªand that¡¯d be the end of them. No way I was taking that risk.


    I had to carve out a chunk of the floor with magic and burn it in magical fire. Then I spent ages rinsing the diadem to dilute the venom before drying it off and tidying everything up. Finally, I used the Chamber of Secrets to get rid of the remains, chucking them into one of Zara¡¯s tunnels and sealing it with rubble.


    The last few days before the holidays were packed. We said goodbye to Hagrid, Harry had one last scuffle with Malfoy, and we hung out with Hermione in the library.


    The train ride home was a laugh. In just a week, we¡¯d be off to Romania, and Harry couldn¡¯t shut up about it. He kept asking the same questions about Charlie and the dragons, and Hermione listened like it was all brand-new.


    Dean got invited to stay with Seamus, and Neville was off to visit his uncle¡ªthe same nutter who once chucked him out of a window. Personally, I wouldn¡¯t go near a bloke like that, but wizards...well, they¡¯re wizards.

 Chapter 36

    A week of holidays flew by in no time.


    First things first, I waited until everyone except Molly went off to the beach to destroy the Horcrux. Poured a bit of venom on it, just to be sure, and gave it a stab with the fang. The diary let out a low, chilling screech and released a puff of black smoke, which quickly dissipated.


    I spent a couple of days crafting a handle for the fang and knocking together something like a sheath. I carved out some wooden plates, wrapped them in dragon-hide strips from my lab gloves, and secured it all with magical tape. Not the prettiest sight, but solid as anything. Getting the gloves to cut? That was a saga in itself¡ªthey hardly yielded to the knife. Still, I didn¡¯t fancy nicking myself rummaging through my charmed bag, so it was worth the effort. The fang and venom stayed stashed away; I wouldn¡¯t need them on holiday. But I kept one vial and a bit of the skin to try selling through Charlie¡ªif the stuff¡¯s worth anything, that is. Who knows? I might need to hire a professional to destroy the ring. Not a chance I¡¯m tackling that myself.


    I swung by the blokes at the workshop for a chat and a catch-up, but I didn¡¯t have time for work this year. Flitwick had loaded me up with a couple of books and a hefty summer assignment. I had to send him completed tests on what I¡¯d learned, and since we¡¯d be off on a trip soon, I didn¡¯t want to drag my feet.


    I didn¡¯t see Luna at all, but I did stop by the next morning to see her and her dad off. It was a bit sad, but seeing Xenophilius looking chipper and reasonably grounded was a relief. At least he was engaging with real life, even if it was through his mythical creature quests, and spending time with his daughter. I was genuinely happy for her. They disappeared through a portal with a wave, and Luna promised to bring me back a Crumple-Horned Snorkack¡¯s horn and a claw from another beastie I didn¡¯t catch the name of.


    I cracked on with Flitwick¡¯s assignment while the twins tinkered with Merlin knows what in their room. Evenings were for Quidditch, except for Percy, of course. Speaking of Percy, we patched things up. After our falling-out and his split with Penelope, he¡¯d taken to ignoring me entirely, only responding with short, cold answers if I spoke to him. Honestly, it got to me. I¡¯d been on a bit of an adrenaline-fueled tear at the time and went too far. Percy was my first proper friend in this world and the best brother I¡¯ve had. So, I swallowed my pride and apologised. He¡¯s forgiving like that. Plus, he had a stack of books his mates had given him for summer reading, and I marked a few for myself to borrow when we got back from Romania.


    Ginny, meanwhile, was busy with her puffskeins and darting off daily to visit her friend Daisy Crowley, a half-blood Hufflepuff who lived in Hogsmeade with her mum and gran. I don¡¯t remember book-Ginny having close friends, but here she¡¯s made a few, bonding over a shared love of puffskeins and, apparently, Harry Potter. Think about it¡ªhe¡¯s a hero, a star athlete, and not bad-looking. Add puffskeins to the mix, and you¡¯ve hit peak girl crush territory. Let¡¯s just hope Harry never finds out.


    Oh, and Colin Creevey was part of their gang, naturally, with his magic camera in tow.


    Their little fan club consisted of three Gryffindor girls from Ginny¡¯s dorm, one Hufflepuff (Daisy), Colin, his brother (who hasn¡¯t even started at Hogwarts but already idolises Harry), and Ginny as their fearless leader. They¡¯d meet three times a week at Daisy¡¯s house. No clue how the Creeveys got there¡ªthey¡¯re Muggle-born¡ªbut Ginny used the Floo Network, with Dad escorting her. I couldn¡¯t fathom what they found so engaging that they couldn¡¯t part ways even for summer. One day, I caught them in the kitchen, painting porcelain teacups with magical designs: lightning bolts, glasses (with Harry¡¯s as the model on the table), Gryffindor scarves, Snitches, Philosopher¡¯s Stones (I think?), and brooms¡ªall moving, naturally. I¡¯ll admit, it was a decent set. Daisy¡¯s mum planned to sell them, and apparently, they sold well. This was their third batch.


    ¡°What d¡¯you think, Ron?¡± Ginny asked, proudly showing me a cup with a messy-haired boy on a broom reaching for a Snitch. Thankfully, he was drawn from the back; they hadn¡¯t quite mastered faces yet.


    ¡°Looks nice,¡± I said. ¡°But don¡¯t you think this is getting a bit much?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re you on about, Ron?¡± Colin piped up. ¡°This is for charity¡ªwe¡¯re saving up for new brooms for the team. Slytherin¡¯s got state-of-the-art ones, and ours are rubbish. We¡¯ve already made thirty Galleons!¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°But why drag Harry into it? He hates all the fame as it is. He¡¯d lose his mind if he knew his face was on every cup. The poor bloke would end up with a complex¡­¡±


    ¡°Actually, Ron,¡± Ginny said with a huff, ¡°there¡¯s a souvenir shop in Diagon Alley with six whole shelves dedicated to Harry. That¡¯s where they take foreign visitors for British keepsakes.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I blinked. ¡°What do they even put on six shelves?¡±


    ¡°Figurines, dolls, statuettes, paperweights, colouring books, jewellery boxes, cups like ours, handkerchiefs with embroidered lightning bolts and HP monograms, cufflinks¡ªloads of stuff. Even little toy wands like Harry¡¯s. Don¡¯t you remember? I had a rattle with a baby Harry and his scar on it when I was little. Shame the twins broke it¡­¡±


    That floored me. Harry¡¯s got plain cotton hankies, and someone else has with his monograms?


    ¡°But I¡¯ve never seen that shop,¡± I protested.


    ¡°That¡¯s because you lot always sprint through the alley for supplies, while Mum actually takes me in,¡± Ginny said, nose in the air.


    ¡°Still, Ginny, it¡¯s not right,¡± I said, shaking my head.


    ¡°But the sets with Harry sell better,¡± Daisy mumbled, wilting under my glare.


    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal: I¡¯ll give you some ideas to make even more money, but you¡¯ve got to promise not to put Harry¡¯s image on any more of your crafts. I don¡¯t care about souvenirs, but I¡¯m his mate. The last thing I want is for him to think we¡¯re pals because of his fame. Got it, Ginny?¡±


    "Alright," my sister said reluctantly, crossing her arms. "Go on, then..."


    "For starters, you lot need bigger mugs, not these dainty cups," I began, letting the ideas roll. "Your problem is you¡¯re only aiming at Gryffindors and Harry¡¯s fans. But loads of people can¡¯t stand him, and most don¡¯t give a toss. No one in Slytherin¡¯s going to buy anything with Potter¡¯s face on it. And anyone who¡¯s already bought a set isn¡¯t buying another one¡ªthey don¡¯t need to."


    "So what¡¯s your grand idea, then?" Dennis asked. He was easily the best artist of the group.


    "You paint mugs in house colours," I explained. "Like, have a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around the rim, fluttering a bit, with a message underneath: ¡®To the Best Mate,¡¯ ¡®To the Prettiest Girl,¡¯ ¡®To the Most Brilliant,¡¯ or something like that. Got it? You split it into themes¡ªromantic ones for Valentine¡¯s, house pride ones like, ¡®Ravenclaw Rules,¡¯ or ¡®Gryffindor Forever.¡¯"This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "Oh, Ron, that¡¯s actually a brilliant idea," my sister said, perking up, and the rest of the group started chiming in their approval.


    "Or a sports series," I carried on. "You could draw goal hoops with a Quidditch cup below and write something like, ¡®To the Top Keeper,¡¯ or ¡®Best Supporter.¡¯ Or even a scarf and a Snitch with ¡®Seeker of the Century.¡¯ Get creative! Don¡¯t just stick to your house¡ªif you¡¯re making money, aim at all the houses. Slytherins are loaded and vain¡ªlet them splash out on us. And the Ravenclaws? They¡¯ll snap up mugs that say, ¡®Smarter Than Merlin,¡¯ or ¡®Hogwarts¡¯ National Treasure.¡¯ Make the scarf your signature thing, and you can slap whatever else you fancy beneath it. Even fluffy creatures, like ¡®My Puffskein Is the Cutest.¡¯


    "You could also do custom photo mugs. Ask Flitwick for the spell to transfer pictures. Paint a nice frame, slap a couple¡¯s photo in it, and add a personalised message. I heard there¡¯s a cafe for couples in Hogsmeade¡ªif you strike a deal with the owner, that¡¯d make for a cracking souvenir. Get the twins involved for advertising¡ªthey¡¯re good at this sort of thing and could work out an arrangement with the cafe owner since you lot can¡¯t go to Hogsmeade yet. And leave Harry out of it," I added with a bit of a growl, heading for the door. "Otherwise, I¡¯ll find a way to shut your little club down. Dennis, good to meet you, mate. Hope you end up in Gryffindor. It¡¯s a right laugh," I said with a grin, hoping to leave a good impression.


    Merlin, being the older brother to a lovesick teen and Harry¡¯s best mate at the same time was exhausting.


    <hr>


    The day before we left, I popped into Percy¡¯s room. I needed to hand over Scabbers. Percy, of course, had his nose in a book again. He¡¯s graduating next year and already dreaming of a career as Minister. For now, though, he¡¯s hoping to become Head Boy. I mean, I know he will, but the poor bloke¡¯s still fretting over it.


    "Still scheming your rise to power, Percy?" I teased as he put down his well-thumbed copy of ¡°How Prefects Can Achieve Power¡±.


    "And what¡¯s wrong with wanting a successful career in the Ministry and bringing glory to our family?" he asked sternly, adjusting his glasses. "I do hope you¡¯re not going to mock me like the twins do."


    "Course not," I said earnestly. "I¡¯d be chuffed for you. But honestly, Percy, you¡¯re barking up the wrong tree if you think the Ministry¡¯s the way to go."


    "And why¡¯s that?" he asked, frowning.


    "Because that kind of power is fleeting, and it doesn¡¯t just depend on your talents and hard work," I replied. "It can collapse faster than a house of cards, and you¡¯ll be left with nothing."


    "Explain," he said, his frown deepening.


    "Alright," I said, leaning forward. "You¡¯re not getting a good job at the Ministry straight off the street, right? Someone¡¯s got to recommend you. Dad, for instance."


    "Or Dumbledore," Percy said thoughtfully. "He might write me a glowing reference if I¡¯m Head Boy. And he¡¯s got good relations with Father, so maybe he¡¯d put in a good word for me."


    "Fair enough," I nodded. "Hagrid mentioned Fudge listens to Dumbledore, so let¡¯s say Dumbledore recommends you, and you¡¯re hired¡ªnot as some basic secretary, but as a personal assistant to a department head. That¡¯s as good as it¡¯ll get, even with a reference from the Chief Warlock himself."


    "Alright," Percy said, his brow furrowing further. "And then?"


    "You¡¯ll work hard, like you do, but mostly you¡¯ll be sorting mail, fetching tea, and doing the odd menial task. Where¡¯s the glory in that?"


    "It¡¯s just the start, Ron," he argued confidently. "If I do my job well, I¡¯ll prove myself as reliable, and eventually, I could become head of the department."


    "Yeah, dream on," I snorted. "That¡¯ll only happen if Fudge stays in power, or if Dumbledore and Fudge don¡¯t fall out. If there¡¯s a power shift and Fudge gets booted, the new Minister will bring in their own people for all the top jobs, and you¡¯ll be out of luck. Worse, they might hold a grudge against Dad for backing Dumbledore. Are you willing to go against the family for a cushy position, Percy? Against Dad?"


    "Erm¡­ Ron, that¡¯s possible, I suppose... Besides, what other choice do I have?"


    "How about Hogwarts?" I countered.


    "Hogwarts?" he repeated, baffled. "Are you suggesting I become a professor? Ron," he added with a condescending tone, "what sort of glory would that bring?"


    "Do you even know the names of Fudge¡¯s secretary? Bagman¡¯s? Crouch¡¯s?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.


    "No," he admitted, looking confused. "What¡¯s that got to do with anything?"


    "Everything," I said, smirking. "Bagman¡¯s been in his position for a decade, and so has Crouch. Even Dad¡¯s been there ages. No one knows their assistants, the ones fetching tea all those years. But every student knows who teaches Transfiguration or Charms at Hogwarts. Around forty kids join every year, and just as many leave. So, Percy Weasley¡ªthe ex-Head Boy, top student, and all-around legend¡ªwould be a household name in no time. Way quicker than ten years of bootlicking in the Ministry."


    "Ron, mind your language," Percy snapped, though he looked pensive. "Honestly, I''ve never really thought about it like that."


    "Well, you should," I said, watching as Percy jumped up and began pacing the room nervously.


    "At Hogwarts, a regular professor earns eighty Galleons and has everything laid on. Meanwhile, a personal assistant at the Ministry only makes fifty. Plus, the prospects! McGonagall isn¡¯t getting any younger, and she¡¯s still trying to juggle three roles. Who¡¯s she going to pass the Head of House duties to? Not exactly a queue of trustworthy candidates, is there? Before you know it, you could be Head of Gryffindor. And let¡¯s face it, Dumbledore¡¯s pushing a hundred by now¡ªPercival Weasley, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Has a nice ring to it, don¡¯t you think?"


    "I¡¯ll think about it," Percy replied thoughtfully.


    "Do that," I nodded. "No one''s taken Binns¡¯s spot in years. Kettleburn¡¯s been begging to retire for three years straight, and they¡¯ve gone through two Muggle Studies professors since Quirrell. You could even write a book¡ªmaybe on wizarding history or Muggle studies."


    "Be serious," Percy laughed as he flopped back down on the bed next to me.


    "What¡¯s so funny?" I asked, feeling a bit miffed. "You wrote all that stuff about Hogwarts in your notebook. It was so detailed, I felt like I¡¯d already been there. Ginny even used it to get her bearings in the castle before she started. You¡¯ve got talent, Percy, and here you are banging on about the Ministry. You could be bigger than Lockhart¡ªor even Bathilda Bagshot!"


    "Alright, alright," Percy said, holding up a hand to stop me. "Don¡¯t take it to heart. I didn¡¯t mean to upset you. It¡¯s just... unexpected, that¡¯s all."


    "Fine, we¡¯ll leave it," I said, relenting. "But for the record, the twins are way ahead of you on thinking long-term. They¡¯ve already got the whole school hooked on their pranks. Everyone knows them, and once they open their joke shop after graduation, it¡¯ll be packed."


    No one in the family seemed jealous about my trip. Ginny sulked a bit when she found out Harry was coming along, but Mum wasn¡¯t going to let her come anyway, so she got over it. The twins could¡¯ve come too, but they didn¡¯t want to spend the money. They had plenty of summer orders to keep them busy anyway.


    We picked up Hermione and Harry in Dad¡¯s enchanted car¡ªor rather, we flew there. The day before, I rang both of them from the village post office to confirm the time.


    Surprisingly, Harry¡¯s relatives let him go without a fuss. He wrote in my notebook that his uncle hadn¡¯t even bothered to lock up his trunk this year and told him to study harder, which apparently shocked and pleased him in equal measure.


    I had my own reason to celebrate¡ªthis time, no one took my wand off me. Though I did have to have a serious talk with Dad to get there.


    "Dad, my best mate¡¯s Harry Potter. He faced off against an unhinged Quirrell in first year, and Hermione got caught in the crossfire. Being around Harry isn¡¯t exactly safe, and you know it. Do you think I¡¯ll be able to fend off trouble with my fists? I¡¯m not planning to mess with Unforgivables or anything, but I need to keep practicing what I already know. I even wanted to ask Charlie to teach us some simple spells while we¡¯re staying with him. And besides, Flitwick gave me loads of work. He says I¡¯ve got a knack for Charms and even gave me extra books. Maybe he¡¯ll take me on as an apprentice someday, and here you are, holding me back with that daft rule. What¡¯s so bad about revising what I¡¯ve already learned?"


    "Alright," Dad said after a moment¡¯s thought, relenting. "You can practice the spells you already know, but if you learn anything new, you¡¯re showing me first. I trust you, Ron. Don¡¯t let me down."


    Now I feel more confident. I might even ask Charlie to teach me the Patronus Charm¡ªno way am I keen on facing Dementors. Even a little wisp¡¯s better than nothing, isn¡¯t it?

 Chapter 37

    First, we swung by Harry¡¯s, then Hermione¡¯s. Uncle Vernon was peeking out at us from behind the curtains but didn¡¯t come out¡ªnot keen on facing a grown wizard, I reckon.


    Dad, for once, was on his best behavior. No rushing to hug the Grangers or peppering them with endless questions¡ªprobably because he was running late for work. The Grangers seemed more at ease on their own turf, anyway. Hermione¡¯s mum even gave me a warm smile, and her dad shook my hand firmly after I promised to look out for their daughter and bring her back safe and sound in two weeks.


    As soon as Hermione¡¯s house disappeared behind us, Dad flicked on the invisibility feature, and we took off. Hermione had already been goggling at the size of the car, but when it lifted off the ground¡­ well, her face was a sight. Harry and I couldn¡¯t help laughing, but she didn¡¯t seem to mind. In fact, she was so awestruck she didn¡¯t even notice. When she found her voice again, she asked to sit in the front seat and spent the rest of the journey bombarding Dad with questions, eyes shining with excitement.


    Dad, of course, loved the attention and was happy to show her every button and lever. Then he told us to buckle up, switched on autopilot, and hit a brand-new button. The car shot forward like a rocket.


    "I¡¯ve fitted it with a booster, Ron," Dad said modestly, glancing back at me, though his eyes were practically glowing with excitement. "We¡¯ll be home in fifteen minutes."


    He spent the rest of the trip chatting about how he got the idea for the booster from the Knight Bus, though ours wasn¡¯t nearly as powerful yet.


    ¡®And thank Merlin for that,¡¯ I thought, clutching the seat for dear life.


    The Burrow made quite the impression on Hermione, though not as much as the car had. Sure, it looked odd and lopsided to Muggles, but as a wizarding home, it was brilliant.


    After about an hour of settling in¡ªduring which Mum fussed over us with food while Harry and I gave Hermione a tour of the house and garden¡ªshe seemed to fit right in with the family. She was completely fascinated by the few magical bits and bobs we had lying around.


    Dad came back at five, and we Flooed to the Ministry. The international travel portkey we¡¯d booked was set for six, so Dad gave us a little tour of the floors beforehand. It suddenly occurred to me to ask about the Hall of Prophecies¡ªbetter to sort that out ahead of time rather than have a massive fight in the Ministry later.


    On the other side, everything went smoothly. They sorted our papers, handed us translation devices, and handed us over to Charlie.


    By the time we stepped outside, it was already getting dark¡ªtime differences, you know. It was nearly nine here. Charlie activated a portkey, but instead of landing at his place, we ended up at a family-run inn. A stocky, dark-eyed Romanian woman showed us to our rooms¡ªseparate ones, even for Charlie.


    Turns out, it was all for Hermione¡¯s sake. It wasn¡¯t proper, apparently, for a girl to stay in a house with boys and no women, even if she was only thirteen and just a friend. Honestly, I hadn¡¯t thought about it at all, and I was a bit surprised that while I¡¯d been selfishly making plans, other people had to sort out the logistics for me. Charlie''s solid, though, really reliable.


    The food was brilliant, and later that evening, Charlie got to know Harry and Hermione better. We talked about plans for the next day before being packed off to bed. The landlady gave Hermione a colourful book about the local area, and she darted off to her room, thrilled.


    Harry stuck around for a bit but soon left, yawning¡ªturns out, he hadn¡¯t slept all night from excitement. I stayed up chatting with Charlie, swapping news and reminiscing about the family and school.


    This trip was shaping up to be even better than the last. Maybe it was because Mum and Ginny weren¡¯t around, or maybe we were just older now.


    The first three days were a whirlwind of museums, souvenirs, dragon feeding, shows, and the hatchery. Even though I¡¯d seen it all before, it was still fascinating. As for Harry and Hermione, they couldn¡¯t get enough of it, their heads swiveling in awe and terror just like mine had the first time.


    Charlie even took us to the training grounds where reserve staff practiced and took their exams. No one was allowed to work there without passing their tests, and it was impressive to watch.


    The staff, big blokes with gruff manners, were surprisingly soft-hearted. They spoiled us with chocolate and treated us like Molly does a baby, which left Hermione thoroughly flustered. Most of them were loners, living full-time in the reserve and missing their families, so we were a welcome distraction. Still, they made up for it by teaching us some spells and showing off their magic, which was pretty entertaining.


    We also trekked into the mountains. At the summit was a crumbling ancient castle with massive open courtyards exposed to the wind¡ªone of five such castles that had been found. We visited two of them.


    Charlie explained that these castles once belonged to dragon-shifters¡ªnot animals or Animagi, but dragons that could take human form, originally from a magical land. They vanished suddenly, leaving behind only legends. Some say they opened a portal back to their world, others believe they were wiped out, or perhaps they succumbed to a dragon plague, traces of which still linger as dragon pox. No one really knows.


    The magic in the castles was palpable, though¡ªlike a place of power, similar to Hogwarts. But it was so intense you couldn¡¯t stay longer than half an hour without feeling overwhelmed by anxiety and fear. Most wizards bolted before long, some even throwing themselves off the ledges in a panic. That¡¯s why the castles remained untouched¡ªno one could get past the gates, no matter how many protective charms they had.


    We also went sailing on a wide river in an ancient ship with dragon carvings on its prow.


    In the evenings, Charlie taught us spells in the inn¡¯s garden¡ªunlocking charms, detection spells, locator spells, useful little things. Our days were packed, with only breaks for meals, and we returned to the inn each night knackered.


    Even so, I couldn¡¯t help brooding by evening. Time was ticking, and I still hadn¡¯t figured out how to bring up what I wanted with Charlie. Probably because I¡¯ve never really trusted anyone in this world¡ªnot after being let down by Dumbledore and Snape, who¡¯s so tied to his master¡¯s orders he can¡¯t even breathe without them. No wonder I had doubts now. But Charlie turned out to be sharper than I¡¯d expected.


    "Ron, I can tell something''s bothering you," said Charlie one evening when we found ourselves alone. "You know I¡¯ll always help you out. You can tell me anything."


    I saw the serious look on his face and the concern in his eyes, and after a moment of hesitation, I decided to go for it.


    "Only if you swear an Unbreakable Vow, Charlie," I said, recalling from a book that it was one of the most reliable enchantments.


    "That serious, is it?" he asked calmly after a pause, and I nodded stiffly.


    "I can¡¯t bind myself or you with something like that, Ron," he replied thoughtfully. "There might come a time when I¡¯d need to act quickly, and an Unbreakable Vow could stop me. I wouldn¡¯t even be able to ask for help. But you can trust me¡ªI promise I won¡¯t do or say anything about this without your approval."


    "Do you remember when the twins nearly got me killed?" I began, hesitating. He nodded, and I pressed on. "I¡¯ve been having strange dreams since then. And they¡­ they come true."


    Charlie didn¡¯t seem overly surprised¡ªprobably not unusual in the wizarding world.


    "And what¡¯s scared you about them?" he asked.


    "The Dark Lord made Horcruxes¡ªanchors to keep himself alive¡ªand he¡¯ll be coming back soon. Harry¡¯s one of them. There¡¯s going to be a war, and our family¡¯s going to suffer," I said, keeping it brief.


    Charlie¡¯s expression darkened. He took the news calmly enough, but his pupils seemed to swallow the colour of his eyes.


    "Does anyone else know?" he asked sharply, staring directly at me.


    "No. I wanted to tell Dumbledore when I got to Hogwarts, but I realised it wouldn¡¯t help. He knows everything going on in the school, but he¡¯s following his own plan and won¡¯t care what I think, even if it means the Weasleys dying to protect the Chosen One. I don¡¯t know why he¡¯s doing it, but he won¡¯t change course. And from what I¡¯ve seen in my dreams, Dad will let him."


    "You¡¯re certain, Ron?" Charlie asked. "Not because I don¡¯t believe you¡ªthis just¡­ if you¡¯re right, it¡¯s bad. Really bad."


    "I am," I said, frustrated. "They made it clear my first year that I was supposed to let Potter get himself into scrapes and not interfere. Snape told me that now Harry was at school, the Dark Lord would try to kill him. And the Headmaster said it was Harry¡¯s destiny to face the Dark Lord and win¡ªand I¡¯d better not get in the way."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Then maybe you really shouldn¡¯t interfere, Ron," Charlie suggested unexpectedly. "I know Dumbledore a bit. He doesn¡¯t do anything lightly. And we¡¯re not seeing the full picture."


    "I can¡¯t just stand by, Charlie," I snapped, leaping to my feet. I rubbed my hands together nervously and started pacing, casting frustrated looks at him.


    "In first year, maybe I could¡¯ve broken an arm or a leg¡ªfine, I¡¯d have dealt with that. But second year? A Horcrux possessed Ginny. She spent the year wandering around the castle, controlled by the Dark Lord. She unleashed a bloody basilisk, and it¡¯s sheer luck no one died. In the end, Harry had to kill the snake¡ªany longer, and Ginny would¡¯ve been dead for sure."


    "But Ginny¡¯s fine now," Charlie interrupted, grabbing my arm to stop me pacing. His face was filled with worry.


    "Of course," I said bitterly, pulling away and sinking into a chair. "I destroyed the Horcrux. Actually, two of them¡ªthere was another one hidden in the Room of Requirement. That leaves four more, including Harry."


    "Bloody hell, Ron, this is the worst news I¡¯ve ever heard," Charlie admitted, running a hand down his face as he slumped into a chair beside me. His pained expression mirrored how I¡¯d felt for months. We sat in silence, each lost in thought. Finally, he broke the quiet.


    "Tell me everything," he ordered. "Every detail you can remember."


    I spilled it all, relieved to finally share the burden. Charlie listened intently, only interrupting to clarify a few points. When I finished, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.


    "Well," Charlie said after a long pause, drumming his fingers on the armrest, "this is a mess."


    I snorted. Like I didn¡¯t already know that. But I felt better knowing Charlie was on my side and willing to help.


    "Tomorrow, I¡¯ll sort this out with a specialist," he said. "Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make them make a vow," he added quickly when he saw my alarm. "We¡¯ll need to check Harry for the Horcrux and get some advice. Does Harry have to kill the Dark Lord himself, like the prophecy says, or can we help? And is there a way to extract the Horcrux without killing him? Sound fair?"


    "Alright," I agreed reluctantly. "If money¡¯s an issue, I¡¯ve got some basilisk skin and a vial of venom. Not sure how much they¡¯re worth, but I¡¯ve got four more vials at home if needed."


    Charlie looked stunned, then demanded to see my trophies. I told him the whole story of how I¡¯d acquired them, feeling a spark of pride at his impressed reaction.


    The next day started off slow, but then¡­ well, Charlie disappeared on some errand, and in his place, a lively girl turned up¡ªa friend¡¯s daughter named Baska. She was about seventeen, round-faced, cheeky, and full of mischief. She took us on a whirlwind shopping trip, not in the reserve but via a portal to a wizarding quarter.


    Apparently, it was a rare privilege¡ªtourists in the reserve weren¡¯t usually taken there, since the shops sold enchanted items, not just brooms and souvenirs. I spent nearly all the money I¡¯d brought along.


    Even Hermione couldn¡¯t resist, though she wasn¡¯t entirely pleased. She had plenty of money, but magical books weren¡¯t legally sold to foreigners without permits. The hotel owner kept her entertained with light reading material, but you could see the frustration simmering.


    The market had all sorts of treasures. One that caught my eye was a universal translator artifact. Wear it constantly while reading dictionaries or talking to foreigners, and you¡¯d pick up the language effortlessly. But it drained magical energy and could mess with your temperament¡ªleaving you either jittery or apathetic, depending on your nature. Hermione was livid she couldn¡¯t afford it¡ª300 Galleons¡ªand wasn¡¯t old enough to use it safely anyway. I kept an eye on her to make sure she didn¡¯t try to buy anything dangerous, though our guide was equally vigilant.


    They had Invisibility Cloaks¡ªnot like Harry¡¯s but decent enough¡ªcommunication mirrors, and stealth artifacts that masked a wizard¡¯s aura and heat signature, perfect for dragon tracking. Unfortunately, we weren¡¯t allowed to buy much. I left with a couple of harmless potions, a self-inking quill, a wand holster for my forearm, and a few other bits and bobs. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was still a brilliant day.


    At least Harry and I managed to get ourselves some proper clothes. Enchanted ones are miles better than Muggle stuff. They never pinch, always keep you warm, don¡¯t get soaked, and clean themselves ¡ª not to mention you can transfigure them to look Muggle, and they¡¯ll be none the worse for wear. Every time I think of Ron¡¯s frilly old dress robes, I shudder. That disaster still haunts me. For some reason, a line from one of Ron¡¯s letters to Harry popped into my head: something about the whole family going to Egypt and how his parents promised to buy him a wand, even though the trip cost a fortune ¡ª talk about priorities, eh? Anyway, as long as I can sort myself out, I¡¯ll keep doing so.


    That evening, Charlie turned up and gave me a look that screamed, you know what¡¯s coming. He looked the same as always, though, so I relaxed ¡ª everything must be going according to plan.


    He told us he¡¯d arranged for a visit to a local shaman¡¯s village. We¡¯d be staying there for a week if we liked it; if not, we¡¯d come back. He went on about natural magic, peculiar animals, and shamanic rituals. Everyone went to bed buzzing with anticipation, but I stayed back to have a word with Charlie.


    ¡°I¡¯ve found a specialist,¡± he said tiredly, sinking into a chair and shutting his eyes. ¡°Took some convincing, though. Hadji doesn¡¯t deal with outsiders. If it weren¡¯t for the life debt his son owes me, he¡¯d have turned me down flat. Normally, necromancers handle this sort of thing, but there aren¡¯t any left in Britain. Even if there were, they don¡¯t work for money. It¡¯s a right headache dealing with them. There¡¯s always the option of Africa, but that¡¯s a last resort. The local magic there¡¯s so unpredictable, it¡¯s better not to poke that nest. Still, if worse comes to worst, we¡¯ll have to risk it ¡ª I can call in a favour through Kingsley.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Charlie,¡± I sighed. ¡°What about Black? Could we get him exonerated if we handed Pettigrew over to the authorities? Black¡¯d be a big help back in England ¡ª you¡¯re not exactly going to be around to help.¡±


    Charlie frowned, his eyes snapping open as he sat up straighter. ¡°No chance. I¡¯ve thought about it. Black wouldn¡¯t survive to see a trial ¡ª they¡¯d see to that. Here¡¯s the thing, Ron: the Ministry has no interest in admitting they cocked up. The public backlash would be massive. Just think about it: the heir of an ancient family rotting in Azkaban for years, all while being innocent. Heads would roll, and not just at the Ministry ¡ª other families with relatives in Azkaban would start demanding retrials.


    ¡°And you¡¯re right, Fudge and Dumbledore are in cahoots. Dumbledore was head of the Wizengamot during Black¡¯s trial. If Fudge wanted to oust Dumbledore, he might use this to stir up trouble, but right now, it¡¯s not worth his while. Fudge didn¡¯t lock Black up, but he¡¯d still be the one taking the heat for it. Easier for him to have Black quietly silenced ¡ª maybe a Dementor¡¯s Kiss on the spot or a dose of something nasty. Ever heard of someone being ¡®allergic¡¯ to Veritaserum? Same idea. No loose ends.¡±


    ¡°Damn shame,¡± I muttered, not bothering to hide my disappointment. ¡°I could really use someone reliable to count on. What do you reckon, Charlie?¡± I asked suddenly, sitting up straighter. ¡°Maybe I should just tell Dad the whole truth? He wouldn¡¯t risk his kids, would he?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it, Ron,¡± Charlie sighed. ¡°Dad owes Dumbledore too much. During the first war, he sheltered our parents. We lived in his cottage in Godric¡¯s Hollow ¡ª the only reason our family wasn¡¯t wiped out. And all of us Weasleys attend Hogwarts under a special program for families in need. Education¡¯s not free, mate. The Board of Governors and the Ministry¡¯s Education Department cover the costs. Grants are only given to Muggle-borns since they¡¯re the ones required to attend school. Pure-bloods either homeschool their kids to keep them away from ¡®undesirable influences¡¯ or pay for it themselves, saving up from the day they¡¯re born.


    ¡°Blood traitors or not, we¡¯re still pure-bloods. Used to be that wealthy families sponsored poorer ones, but these days, the Ministry grants two slots per year for those affected by the War. And the Headmaster decides who gets them, quietly. Sometimes even someone from Knockturn Alley gets lucky. I know for a fact your classmate Longbottom¡¯s on one of those grants ¡ª his parents suffered during the war. Seven Weasley kids at Hogwarts? You get the picture. Dumbledore can ask for anything from our family, and Dad won¡¯t say no.¡±


    ¡°Figures. Charlie, what¡¯s a ¡®blood traitor¡¯ anyway?¡± I asked. ¡°And don¡¯t give me that rubbish about loving Muggles. Why¡¯s our family branded as traitors?¡±


    Charlie snorted but quickly sobered. ¡°It goes back to our grandfather, from father¡¯s side. He had three sons. Dad was the youngest and wasn¡¯t meant to inherit the family line. But the eldest passed on the title, and then the second did the same. In the end, there was no one left but Dad.¡±


    ¡°How do you even pass on an inheritance like that?¡± I asked, floored.


    ¡°Simple enough,¡± Charlie said with a sigh. ¡°There¡¯s a ritual and a formal renunciation. Families do it when the eldest heir¡¯s a weak wizard or sickly. They¡¯re kept under the family¡¯s care but can¡¯t inherit. We were branded as traitors not too long ago, back in the late 1930s, when the Sacred Twenty-Eight list was already a thing. Dad¡¯s brothers gave up their inheritance and married ¡®unsuitable¡¯ women ¡ª one married a Muggle, and the other married a Muggle-born witch. Grandad refused to disown them or cut ties, so our family was struck off the list and declared blood traitors.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the point, though?¡± I asked, baffled. ¡°Why¡¯s everyone so against marrying Muggle-borns? They¡¯re witches and wizards too, aren¡¯t they? Why cut someone off for that?¡±


    ¡°Muggles don¡¯t have magic, Ron,¡± Charlie explained. ¡°They¡¯re of no use to magical families. Worse, their bloodlines might carry illnesses or genetic quirks that could resurface in future generations. Same goes for half-bloods and Muggle-borns. They don¡¯t know their ancestry or what¡¯s hidden in their blood. They don¡¯t keep meticulous records of everything. Say, a great-grandparent got scratched by a werewolf but didn¡¯t turn, only developed a craving for rare steak. That trait could crop up in a descendant as partial lycanthropy. So for them, why risk it?


    ¡°Then there are magical creatures, Ron. In Britain, Veelas, they aren¡¯t beings, they are creatures (1) but in other countries, they can legally marry wizards. Veela traits usually fade after three or four generations, but you might suddenly get a child with their abilities years down the line.


    ¡°Another example: during the Goblin Wars, some families even ransomed daughters to goblins to save their lands from raids. Who knows what happened to those women? Their children might¡¯ve passed for a human, but generations later, you get someone like Flitwick ¡ª a great wizard but goblin-blooded.


    ¡°Pure-bloods don¡¯t take risks with their lines. They carefully pick which families to marry into. The desire to be perfect and normal is their obsession and they don¡¯t take it lightly¡­ Anyway, enough with heavy topics before bed, if you are interested I¡¯ll tell you more tomorrow.¡±


    We said our goodbyes, and I headed to my room, but I couldn¡¯t fall asleep for half the night. I hadn¡¯t realised how deeply rooted the prejudice against Muggle-borns really was. At least now I understood why they¡¯re called Mudbloods. It still didn¡¯t sit right with me, but¡­ Whatever.


    I still had a few more questions buzzing in my head, I¡¯ll ask them next time.


    <hr>


    AN: The author does not profess racism, but writes about purebloods and their beliefs and traditions.


    TN:


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Wiki says that Veelas are classified as beings in Britain. It seems to be a mistake from the author.</li>


    </ol>

 Chapter 38

    After breakfast, the portal transported us to the settlement. I was curious to see how other wizards lived and to meet an actual shaman.


    To be honest, I had no idea what to expect. The only time I''d seen anything close to a shaman was in a past life, when a round-faced Yakut or Buryat in traditional furs performed a dance at a cultural festival I attended during a class trip.


    This community, though, reminded me more of a Romani camp. Dark-eyed, dark-haired, always smiling, with mischievous glances and quick movements. The only thing missing was the bright, colourful clothing you¡¯d associate with Romani¡¯s. The men had just one flashy item¡ªa red silk scarf with fringe tied around their waists¡ªwhile the women wore full skirts in bold colours and white blouses with embroidered sleeves.


    They lived in fabric tents about the size of yurts, with the most beautiful one¡ªa white tent adorned with floral patterns¡ªbelonging to the leader. It was set a bit apart from the others, and that¡¯s where we headed.


    We weren¡¯t allowed inside. Instead, the leader came out to meet us. He was a striking old man with a pipe clenched between his teeth and a piercing gaze, dressed in fancy red leather boots¡ªyes, boots, in that heat!


    The shaman wasn¡¯t much of a talker. He nodded, scanned our group, and silently puffed on his pipe, his sharp eyes moving from one of us to the next as if he were reading us. Then, just as wordlessly, he gestured towards the settlement and went back inside.


    The others¡ªwho had been waiting behind us, watching in silence¡ªsuddenly broke into excited chatter. Smiling, they led us off to find our lodgings.


    Living among the tribe turned out to be unbelievably fascinating. It was like stepping into the pages of an old book about a forgotten civilisation. Everything here felt different, even time itself seemed to flow at its own pace. Their magic was unique too. They didn¡¯t use wands¡ªinstead, they worked magic without them.


    Out of curiosity, I visualised the Path, and everything around me burst into colour. The whole camp seemed to sit within some kind of magical vortex, with energy streams swirling and intertwining in vibrant patterns. It was stunning and entirely unlike anything I¡¯d seen before¡ªthough far too chaotic for me to navigate. There were simply too many currents to latch onto anything specific.


    Charlie explained that while wizards channel magic through their wands to cast spells of any strength, nature mages worked differently. They ¡°drew¡± magic directly from external flows, harnessing it for specific tasks instead of channelling it through themselves as we do. Their method might not allow for the complex and powerful spells we¡¯re used to, but it made simple charms effortless¡ªand wand-free.


    They didn¡¯t use incantations, either. Instead, they manipulated raw magical energy. For more advanced magic, they relied on a dozen or so symbols, similar to runes. These however weren¡¯t like the runes we study at Hogwarts; they looked more like primitive, stylised drawings carved into small stones¡ªthings like a drop of water, the sun, or a snowflake. They¡¯d combine these runes in different ways to suit their needs.


    With these symbols, they could control the elements: a fire that never went out or needed wood would ignite by placing a fire rune in the hearth and activating it with magic. A combination of fire and air runes heated their homes, while water runes kept reservoirs full. The stones were embedded into the walls, ensuring the water level stayed constant. If they didn¡¯t need it anymore, they¡¯d just remove the rune, and the water would evaporate.


    Air, fire, and water runes could also boil or heat water¡ªplace the stones into an empty cauldron, activate them, and it would fill with water and heat up or boil, depending on the magic used. Even their lights worked this way. Essentially, their entire way of life revolved around elemental magic.


    While their methods weren¡¯t particularly useful to us¡ªwe couldn¡¯t replicate them¡ªit was fascinating to see how other magical folk lived.


    And their horses? They blew my mind. They were actually a visible breed of Thestrals. But when I first saw them, I nearly wet myself. They almost looked like vicious dinosaurs with hooves, somehow resembling the horses.


    Harry spent his days galloping through the forest on one with the local boys, and even Hermione had a go, though she opted for a cart ride instead. As for me, I kept my distance all week, but just before we left, I finally worked up the nerve to ride one around the settlement. Can¡¯t say I was thrilled¡ªHarry and Hermione hadn¡¯t grown up watching dinosaur films with modern special effects. Basilisks and dragons might¡¯ve been frightening, but this? These beasts, with their tiny, cold, shark-like eyes and three rows of razor-sharp teeth, were next-level terrifying.


    We also went fishing. The locals attached their magic stones to fishing lines and pulled out one fish after another. They even had nets with these stones, and fish would leap straight into them the moment they dipped the net into the water. Of course, we gave them a hand with Accio. It was a laugh.


    Hermione was housed in the women¡¯s tent, while the three of us lads were crammed into one together.


    On our first evening, we were invited to the leader¡¯s tent¡ªthough not Hermione. As I gathered, the women had their own kind of magic and their own shamaness, Hansa, so they didn¡¯t meddle in men¡¯s business, and vice versa. Hermione was a bit miffed about being left out and sulked for a couple of days, but then she got her fill of ¡°mysterious knowledge¡± from her new friends. She walked around with a proud look and a twinkle in her eye after that. Apparently, the shamaness had told her she was a strong witch, which absolutely made her day¡ªas if she didn¡¯t already know that.


    In her free time, she busied herself making protective charms under the shamaness¡¯s guidance, humming along to some kind of chant, and looking very pleased with herself.


    This time, we were allowed inside the tent. I¡¯d been expecting something like an old film¡ªstifling heat, smoke, and people in a drugged trance¡ªbut it was more like a game.


    We all sat down, and the shaman handed Charlie a large drum made of stretched hide, with a deep, hollow sound. He asked Charlie to tap on it with his knuckles in rhythm. Behind the tent, someone started playing the beat, and Charlie did his best to match it while the shaman shook his smaller drum¡ªthis one had rattles, making a strange, unpleasant sound, like a rattlesnake shaking its tail.


    Charlie passed the drum to me, and I gave it a go, tapping out my own rhythm. The music and beat were the same, but somehow, each of us played differently.


    At first, I didn¡¯t feel anything¡ªjust focused on keeping time. But then, all of a sudden, I realised I was swaying and nodding along without even noticing, my head feeling oddly fuzzy. That snapped me out of it. I cleared my head and caught the shaman¡¯s sharp, approving look. Charlie didn¡¯t seem too affected, though he was tapping his foot a bit. But Harry? By the time the drum was passed to him, he was completely zoned out¡ªswaying, eyes closed, nodding his head to the rhythm.


    Suddenly, the old man leaned toward Harry and gave him a light tap on the forehead with his drum. The lad collapsed onto the rug like a puppet with its strings cut, and the music outside the tent came to an abrupt halt.


    Me and Charlie instantly reached out for him, but the shaman¡¯s voice, calm and steady, cut through the tension:


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him,¡± he instructed. ¡°The boy is merely asleep.¡±


    He began moving his hands over Harry, murmuring barely audible phrases, occasionally shouting out words in a low, guttural tone while shaking his drum every now and then. Time seemed to drag on endlessly. My bum had gone numb, and my legs were stiff as boards. Yet when the ritual finally ended and we stepped outside, leaving Harry to rest in the tent, it wasn¡¯t even nightfall yet.


    We sat around the campfire, and the shaman, silent as ever, lit his pipe, staring thoughtfully into the flames.


    ¡°There¡¯s a shard of foreign Achek-kargo in the boy,¡± he finally said, breaking the silence. ¡°It can no longer be removed¡ªthe scar has healed, and partial integration has already occurred. But I can help the boy absorb it fully. In the end, he¡¯ll dissolve it himself, though it¡¯ll take longer and be far more painful.¡±


    ¡°Will it harm Harry?¡± Charlie asked, his face tight with worry. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s the soul of a monster in a child¡¯s body¡­¡±


    The shaman gave him a look like he¡¯d just sprouted an extra head.


    ¡°Soul?¡± he squinted, his voice laced with disbelief. ¡°What nonsense are you babbling, Ahouat?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Charlie glanced at me, flustered. Back in Britain, barely anyone knew about Horcruxes. What Charlie did know, he¡¯d gotten from me, and even that was secondhand at best.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t Horcruxes... part of a soul, split through murder and stored in an object to ensure survival after death?¡± I ventured, though not without some hesitation. The old man looked like he was stifling a laugh, but instead, he just sighed, shook his head, and fixed me with a serious stare.


    ¡°Do you even know what a soul is, boy?¡± he asked. ¡°The soul is the spark of Vihar¡ªthe Creator. He is so vast and unknowable that He perceives Himself through the divine spark in each of His creations. As a fragment of the divine, the soul is impassive and whole; it cannot be broken. If I were to ask you, ¡®Who are you?¡¯ what would you say?¡±


    I froze. Philosophical discussions had never been my strong suit. Who am I, really? Sure, I could¡¯ve said, ¡°I¡¯m Ron, a boy, a Hogwarts student, a son, a brother, a friend¡­¡± but he clearly wasn¡¯t after something that simple. Luna had asked similar questions before, and her answers always seemed to float somewhere far beyond the obvious. How on earth was I supposed to figure this one out?


    ¡°All that you think you are now,¡± he continued, seeing my silence, ¡°is but your mind and body, animated by the divine spark. But who you truly are is Achek¡ªspirit.¡± He gave a nod, as if my lack of an answer had proven his point. ¡°The soul is a mirror, reflecting the Creator¡¯s light into the world. The spirit connects the soul to the mind. If you live by the laws of good, your soul reflects more divine light, shining upon others, warming them, drawing them toward the Creator. But if you commit evil, the mirror darkens and clouds, distorting the light. When you break the law, the mirror cracks, ceasing to reflect the Creator¡¯s light properly. It grows dark and eventually loses its connection to Him, losing its capacity for redemption. The farther from light you go, the closer to darkness¡ªand there is no in-between.


    ¡°Murder is a crime against the body. Horcruxes, as you call them, are crimes against the very soul¡ªa repugnant abomination. The madman who creates one not only destroys his own soul but also lays claim to another¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that even possible?¡± Charlie finally blurted, shooting me a bewildered look.


    ¡°When a Horcrux falls into the hands of its victim,¡± the shaman explained, ¡°it first influences their mind, subjugating it until it aligns with the Horcrux¡¯s Achek. Once it has taken complete control, it absorbs the victim¡¯s Achek to make itself whole, eventually seizing not just their body but also corrupting their soul, which belongs to the Creator. It becomes Achek-kargo¡ªa cursed, wandering spirit.¡±


    He fell silent, puffing on his pipe as he stared into the fire. I couldn¡¯t help but think there was a strange sort of logic to his words. I didn¡¯t fully understand it, and I didn¡¯t entirely agree, but it made some sense. Horcruxes did have a way of messing with people¡¯s heads¡ªplaying on strong emotions like Harry¡¯s hatred, Ginny¡¯s trust, Dumbledore¡¯s guilt, or even Ron¡¯s jealousy and resentment. They fed off those emotions, then completely took over, destroying the person¡¯s mind in the process.


    ¡°So, if we dissolve the Horcrux now, what¡¯ll that do for Harry?¡± I asked. ¡°Would it mean he won¡¯t have to fight Voldemort and die at his hand to come back?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you, Achehar,¡± the shaman said, frowning.


    Charlie gave me a pleading look and started explaining the prophecy, but the shaman cut him off.


    ¡°Let the boy show me himself,¡± he suggested, standing up and approaching me.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Ron,¡± Charlie said hesitantly, ¡°he¡¯s asking permission to use Legilimency on you. Will you let him?¡± There was worry in his voice, and it was making me nervous.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid, Achehar,¡± the shaman said, his voice lowering. ¡°Your secrets are safe with me.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I agreed reluctantly. ¡°It won¡¯t hurt, will it?¡±


    ¡°Not if you don¡¯t resist,¡± he replied evenly.


    He sat down beside me, taking my face in his hands and forcing me to look into his eyes while murmuring strange words that didn¡¯t register with the translator.


    It didn¡¯t hurt, but it was... strange. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then I realised I was reliving my memories, as if I¡¯d closed my eyes and hit replay. It started slow but quickly sped up, everything blurring past like a rapid-fire slideshow¡ªbooks I¡¯d read, conversations I¡¯d had, people I¡¯d met. It felt like I was reading every book again and watching every moment from a distance, like I was in some kind of Pensieve, but in my own head.


    Then it got worse. My memories accelerated, spinning faster and faster until I felt like I was drowning in them. It was like I¡¯d downed way too much Firewhisky¡ªeverything was swirling, and I couldn¡¯t get a grip.


    And then reality snapped back. Pain ripped through me, and I clutched my head with a groan. My skull throbbed, my stomach churned¡ªit was like the worst hangover I¡¯d ever had.


    "Here, drink this," my brother said, rushing over and thrusting a mug into my hands. The shaman had added a few drops from a vial. "How¡¯re you feeling, Ron?"


    "Rubbish," I croaked, taking a sip. To my surprise, I felt a bit better straightaway, and by the time I¡¯d finished the whole thing, all the nasty symptoms were gone.


    "I¡¯ll give you my answer tomorrow," the shaman said calmly, "but for now, rest."


    He disappeared into his tent, leaving us alone. I thought we should fetch Harry, but the idea of going back into that tent didn¡¯t sit right with me. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t trust Hadzi¡ªit¡¯s just not wise to trust a stranger too much, especially a magical one. Leaving Harry alone with him seemed daft.


    Charlie made the decision for me. Once he¡¯d made sure I was alright, he carried Harry out himself and brought him to our tent. Harry was still fast asleep and didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d be waking anytime soon.


    "Charlie," I said once we¡¯d settled in, "I reckon it wouldn¡¯t hurt if you taught us the Patronus Charm."


    "I thought the same," Charlie sighed. "Even if you can¡¯t manage a full Patronus, a shield of light, no matter how faint, will keep the Dementors at bay. We¡¯ll start practicing tomorrow. Have you decided what to do about Black?"


    "I¡¯ll hand him the rat as soon as he shows up," I said with a shrug, though Charlie couldn¡¯t see me in the dark. "As long as he kills it before it can scarper, that¡¯s all I care about."


    "I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve decided not to do it yourself," Charlie said, rolling over. "Goodnight, Ron."


    "Night, Charlie," I yawned, wrapping myself in the blanket. Sleep didn¡¯t come easily, though. My mind was churning with thoughts about the third book. After the Legilimency session, I remembered it all vividly¡ªeven the bits I¡¯d forgotten before. It felt like I¡¯d reread the entire series. I knew the effect wouldn¡¯t last, so I tried to make sense of everything while it was still fresh in my head.


    The shaman worried me too. He knew who I was now¡ªwhat if he told someone?


    Morning came too soon. Charlie looked knackered¡ªhe must¡¯ve had a rough night as well. I was bleary-eyed, but Harry, well-rested, was practically bouncing with energy. After breakfast, Charlie kept his promise and began teaching us the Patronus Charm. His Patronus turned out to be a large owl¡ªan eagle owl, made of that odd, translucent, blueish light. It even spoke in his voice. Handy little spell. We immediately wanted one of our own and practiced every spare moment, trying to guess what forms ours would take.


    Unfortunately, the charm wasn¡¯t easy. All we managed at first were a few sparks and a faint wisp of something like smoke. Skipping ahead a bit, I¡¯ll say we didn¡¯t manage to produce proper Patronuses until just before we left. Even then, they were only steady shields of light¡ªnot fully formed animals. But Charlie was chuffed all the same. He said we¡¯d gotten the hang of the basics, so we could practice on our own. The key, apparently, was finding the right memory and feeling it, not just recalling it.


    That evening, the villagers lit a massive bonfire in the centre of the camp, though only the men and boys who¡¯d come of age¡ªfifteen by their standards¡ªwere allowed to sit around it. To become a man, they had to kill a bear or a lynx.


    A large jug of some sweet-tasting drink was passed around. It went straight to my head, so when the younger blokes jumped up and, to the rhythm of some lively music, started turning into wolves and darting around the fire, yapping and barking, I thought it must¡¯ve been the drink playing tricks on me. When I realised it was real, a cold dread crept over me. For a moment, I thought we¡¯d transform too and end up prancing around the clearing. Luckily, nothing of the sort happened.


    "Don¡¯t fret, Achehar," the shaman said with a smirk. Turns out, he¡¯d been watching me the whole time. "It¡¯s not the drink that does it."


    "You¡¯re werewolves?" I asked, watching as Harry, encouraged by a nod from the shaman, chased after the wolves. They playfully nudged him with their paws, trying to knock him over.


    "We¡¯re shapeshifters," he said cryptically. "Like werewolves, but not bound to the moon. More like Animagi, but born with the ability."


    "Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, clearly eavesdropping. "Can you teach us to become Animagi? I want to be a wolf too!"


    "I can," the shaman said nonchalantly, puffing on his pipe, "but I wouldn¡¯t recommend it. Wolves are part of who we are. Animagi, despite their merits, adopt traits of their animal form into their minds. It doesn¡¯t elevate the Achek¡ªyour spirit¡ªbut drags it down to the level of an animal with a human mind. And even if an Animagus resists indulging in their animal¡¯s urges, they¡¯ll still feel them."


    "What d¡¯you mean?" Harry asked, drawing our collective curiosity.


    "Would you put a dead mouse in your mouth?" the shaman asked. "Lose your wits over the smell of catnip, meowing and rubbing against people¡¯s legs? Lick your own paws or sniff someone¡¯s tail as a dog? Would you give in to the urge to kill or mate with a she-wolf as a wolf?"


    "Ugh, no!" Harry said, looking horrified. I shuddered at the thought myself.


    "But I thought Animagi just transform into animals," I said, confused, "not actually become them."


    "They do," he said, "but echoes of their animal form will always remain, even in their human shape, after the first transformation. Those instincts can be controlled, but they¡¯ll always be there. Animal forms aren¡¯t meant for humans. Still, each of us carries an inner beast we haven¡¯t recognised yet. That¡¯s the form we take upon transforming. But your beast could be courageous to the point of recklessness¡ªor cowardly to the point of betrayal. It¡¯s best not to awaken what¡¯s dormant," he concluded, leaving us with an uneasy silence. I couldn¡¯t help but think he was right. No wonder the Marauders had forms that suited them so well.


    Later, when everyone had dispersed, Charlie and I were summoned to the shaman.


    "I¡¯m ready to help the boy dissolve the Horcrux," he said. "In exchange, I¡¯ll take a piece of the Serpent King¡¯s skin. But you, Achehar, must know that the responsibility will fall on you. Are you ready for the consequences?"

 Chapter 39

    The conversation with the shaman lingered in my mind for a long time, making me question the choices I¡¯d made.


    ¡°What do you mean? I don¡¯t understand you,¡± I asked, bewildered. ¡°What consequences?¡±


    ¡°Do you know what true wisdom is, Achehar?¡± he countered instead of answering. ¡°It¡¯s carrying the weight of your decisions alone. Accept it¡ªand you¡¯ll no longer have the right to blame others. Every life and death will rest on your hands and be your responsibility. Wichasha¡ªyour white-bearded sage¡ªdesigned everything to save the many, but you aim to save the few. It¡¯s not for me to judge which is right, for there is nothing dearer than one¡¯s own skin and nothing closer than one¡¯s own blood.¡±


    ¡°So, you think Dumbledore¡¯s path is the right one?¡± I asked hesitantly. ¡°That nothing should be changed?¡±


    ¡°Why would I think that?¡± the shaman replied with a hint of surprise. ¡°There¡¯s always more than one way to a goal. It all depends on the Guide. Wichasha knew from the start that the boy carried a piece of another Achek within him, but he could neither remove it himself nor dared to. What¡¯s more, he saw it as a sign of the Prophecy, not realising it spoke of the spirit, not the body. The boy could never have¡ªneither in soul nor in skill¡ªkilled the body of the Cursed One. His fate was always a battle of spirit against spirit. He fights the foreign Achek within him and wins. His mother¡¯s sacrifice gave him protection; her blood stands between him and her killer, just as it shields G?dji¡ªthe black raven. Only these two can resist the foreign Achek-kargo and keep it from taking them over.¡± The shaman paused to take a drag from his pipe, giving me time to think.


    By ¡°raven,¡± he clearly meant Snape. Amazing, really¡ªdespite all his dark magic and bloodstained hands, he was the only Death Eater who had a Patronus. Turns out the memory of Lily protected him as well, preventing the darkness from fully claiming him. Who¡¯d have thought?


    ¡°Do you reckon Dumbledore avoids confronting the Dark Lord head-on because he lacks protection?¡± I asked, drifting slightly off-topic as the thought struck me.


    ¡°He believes in the Prophecy and knows his own weakness,¡± the shaman replied. ¡°In his hands is the Elder Wand, thirsty for death, and buried in his heart is a long-suppressed desire for power and greatness. He¡¯s fought that desire for years. Deep down, he wants the same things as Achek-kargo, and he knows his vulnerability to it. That¡¯s why he won¡¯t raise the wand to kill. All he can do is fight himself and remember the dead¡ªthose who¡¯ve gone and those yet to die.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s bleak,¡± Charlie muttered, finally breaking his silence after merely listening.


    ¡°Your sage allows the boy and the Cursed One to meet face-to-face, teaching him to resist, to fight back; showing him that loved ones are worth protecting. He prepares the boy to walk willingly to his death¡ªand die,¡± the shaman continued as I glanced sharply at him.


    ¡°Die? But he came back to life, didn¡¯t he?¡± I asked, confused.


    ¡°He was meant to die,¡± the shaman insisted firmly. ¡°By then, his connection to the Cursed One was stronger than ever, thanks in no small part to G?dji.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying Snape was teaching Harry not to shield his mind, but to open it?¡± I asked, disbelief creeping into my voice.


    ¡°Of course. Otherwise, how would the Cursed One destroy himself within Harry? It¡¯s a living vessel, not an inanimate object; you can¡¯t just sink your fangs into it. Your Avada severs the ties between consciousness, spirit, and body¡ªthat¡¯s why it¡¯s considered unforgivable. The Cursed One would have merely severed the connection, killing Harry but leaving his own Achek intact to take over the empty vessel.


    Harry¡¯s entire life has been a battle between his Achek and the foreign one. Each time, he prevailed, absorbing bits of the other¡¯s spirit. Remember when the foreign spirit nearly took him over after the hearing? Even the sage avoided his gaze, suspecting as much. And later, when he injured another boy, it was the foreign spirit guiding him. The same happened when the Cursed One possessed him in the Ministry. Yet Harry overcame it each time, just as the Prophecy foretold. But the sage couldn¡¯t risk even the smallest chance of the Cursed One¡¯s revival within Harry, so his path ensured both the boy¡¯s and the Cursed One¡¯s deaths. He even allowed the boy to share his secret with friends, so they could finish his work if he perished, ensuring the Cursed One¡¯s return would be impossible. Still, he hoped the spirits hadn¡¯t merged entirely¡ªthat the Cursed One would destroy himself and Harry, protected by sacrifice, would survive.


    He banked on the blood protection the Cursed One used for his resurrection. But the sage miscalculated. It was precisely because of that shared blood that the Cursed One couldn¡¯t kill himself within Harry¡ªthey were both protected. And when Harry returned, he¡¯d fully dissolved the foreign spirit, severing the bond and triumphing because he chose to sacrifice himself for everyone else, destroying all the darkness within him and surviving.¡±


    ¡°So, what happens if we destroy the Horcrux now?¡± I asked, still reeling from what I¡¯d heard.


    ¡°The Cursed One won¡¯t be able to influence the boy anymore¡ªhe won¡¯t possess him or send him visions. But the boy will lose his protection, and the Achek-kargo could kill him with ease. On top of that, Harry will inherit certain traits of the foreign spirit¡ªor rather, traits already similar to it will grow stronger, like his temper or distrust. Fighting a foreign foe within yourself is always easier than battling yourself. Still, he wouldn¡¯t have to face the Cursed One or die by his hand. So, what¡¯s your choice?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know now,¡± I admitted truthfully.


    ¡°Then tell me, Achehar, what was your plan?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was planning to rope Snape in¡ªswear him to secrecy and tell him Dumbledore¡¯s set Harry up to die while making him think he¡¯s saving his life. I doubt the Headmaster tells his spy everything; it¡¯s not his style. I reckon Snape might agree¡ªespecially since Harry wouldn¡¯t have the Horcrux anymore, so he wouldn¡¯t have to die, and anyone could take out the Dark Lord.


    ¡°After that, once Black deals with the rat, Snape and I could handle the ring. He knows enough dark magic to deal with its protections. For the cup, I thought Bill might help¡ªhe works with goblins, so he might find a loophole, especially since he¡¯ll be back at the British bank by then. If not, we could offer the goblins basilisk venom or the Resurrection Stone to drip venom on the cup¡ªno theft involved.


    ¡°Worst case, we¡¯d buy a hair from Bellatrix at Azkaban, Imperius a goblin, and do it like in the book. As for the Dark Lord, we could track him down in Albania and finish him while he¡¯s weak. And if we can¡¯t deal with the cup, we could put the Dark Lord¡¯s remains in stasis or dose them with Draught of Living Death¡ªjob done. Without an heir for the Lestrange vault, the Horcrux could sit there for centuries undisturbed. Or we could get the Ministry to pressure the goblins. The main thing is avoiding war,¡± I finished with a sigh.


    "Sounds reasonable," the shaman approved.


    "Only if nothing goes wrong," my brother muttered, frowning.


    "In any case, we need to ask Harry himself," I said firmly. "It''s his choice. But regardless, I''ll stick to my plan and won''t let Dumbledore harm my family."


    "You''re going to tell Harry yourself?" Charlie shot me a wary glance, tinged with pity.


    "Yeah, first thing tomorrow morning. He¡¯ll need time to think it over," I replied. The shaman gave an impassive nod, approving my decision, and my brother and I headed back to our tent.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Do you blame Dumbledore?" Charlie asked as we walked.


    "No," I admitted honestly. "He doesn''t have any other choice... If the Horcrux could be removed, he''d have done it already. Since it can''t, there''s always the risk of Voldemort coming back if Harry falters or gives in. So, yeah, the stakes are too high. It''s just... in his plan, Harry¡¯s the centerpiece, and I think it''s wrong to just sit back and hope one kid can sort it all out just because he¡¯s got a bit of Voldemort in his head. Honestly, I¡¯ve been thinking a lot about Ginny lately... Do you reckon Voldemort could¡¯ve been reborn in her if he hadn¡¯t switched to Harry when he did? She didn¡¯t have any protection, and he almost drained her completely."


    "That¡¯s a bloody horrifying thought," Charlie muttered. We fell silent after that, neither of us in the mood to continue the conversation. Without discussing it, we turned in for the night. Harry had been fast asleep for hours.


    Morning came far too quickly. Harry, as usual, was buzzing with excitement¡ªafter breakfast, we were heading into the forest for a planned outing. The locals could summon any creature with magic, and they¡¯d become so docile you could pet them and even play with them. Hermione was thrilled, and Harry seemed to love the idea too.


    "Oi, Ron, why the long face?" Harry asked cheerfully, plopping onto the bench next to me with a bowl of porridge in hand. "Didn¡¯t get enough sleep?"


    "Eat up, Harry, don¡¯t get distracted," I grunted, throwing a quick glance at Hermione and stirring my own bowl listlessly. "We¡¯ll talk later."


    "My Patronus almost took shape yesterday!" Hermione announced proudly.


    "Brilliant! What is it?" Harry asked, his interest piqued.


    "I¡¯m not sure yet, but it¡¯s something small," she said, frowning thoughtfully.


    "Well, my Patronus is already a proper shield," Harry teased her, grinning. The two had been competing to see who could master the charm first.


    "Alright, boys, I¡¯m off. See you in half an hour," Hermione chirped, practically skipping off. We cleared our plates and moved over to a fallen tree nearby.


    "So, it¡¯s really that serious?" Harry asked anxiously, his tone tense as he watched me with wide eyes.


    "Listen, Harry," I began cautiously, "there¡¯s something I need to tell you."


    "Someone¡¯s died, haven¡¯t they?" he blurted out, his face pale as he clung to the tree bark. "Who is it?"


    "No one¡¯s died; everyone¡¯s fine," I snapped, irritated. "Now sit down and just listen."


    He relaxed a little and stared at me, his gaze intent.


    "Right," I said, deciding to rip off the bandage. "The shaman found part of Voldemort in you. When he came to your house and was destroyed, a piece of him ended up inside you."


    Harry gaped at me, his jaw slack, and when I finished, his hand shot up to his scar.


    "That¡¯s not possible," he whispered, swallowing hard. "What does that mean for me?"


    "Do you believe me?" I asked, surprised at his calmness.


    "Of course. You¡¯ve never lied to me," he said firmly. "Is there a way to get rid of it?"


    "It can¡¯t be removed, only dissolved," I said. "You have to decide¡ªdo you want to deal with it now, or let your own spirit absorb it over time?"


    "I need to think about it," he muttered, bolting away from me.


    Harry didn¡¯t return until lunchtime, looking disheartened, his scar red and irritated as though he¡¯d been rubbing at it all morning. When I shot him a questioning look, he gave me a terse nod, as if to say he was fine, and sat down silently. I¡¯d already warned Hermione not to prod him with questions, so she filled the silence with a running commentary about the creatures she¡¯d seen and stroked that morning. I was grateful for her chatter¡ªit saved me from having to speak. My mood was grim at best.


    After dinner, we walked Hermione back, then made our way wordlessly to the shaman.


    "I¡¯ve been expecting you," the old man said, settling by the fire and gesturing for us to sit. "So, what have you decided, Harry?"


    "I want it gone," Harry said firmly. "I hate the idea of a piece of that monster inside me¡ªthe one who killed my parents. I can¡¯t stop thinking about it. But... what happens if we remove it?"


    "In one body, there should be only one soul," the shaman said thoughtfully. "Right now, you¡¯re in control, but that piece can still influence you. It cannot feel anything good. Where you might be upset or angry, it will push you towards rage, hatred, even violence. But this struggle is what strengthens your spirit¡ªovercoming it will make you more resilient against darkness. With time, you¡¯ll dissolve that fragment completely, and it will lose all power over you. I can remove it now, but you¡¯ll miss out on that growth. Without the strength gained from fighting it, your spirit will be vulnerable, and the emotions it releases will overwhelm you. You¡¯ll feel its influence more keenly, and it will be harder to control yourself."


    "Even so, I want it gone," Harry said decisively. "I¡¯ll do my best to manage, sir."


    ¡°Alright,¡± the shaman sighed, rising to his feet. ¡°Into the tent with you.¡±


    ¡°What, right now?¡± Harry blurted, looking a bit panicked as he nervously licked his lips.


    ¡°Why wait?¡± the shaman replied in his usual unbothered tone, setting his pipe aside. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, young man, it won¡¯t hurt,¡± he added unexpectedly, a faint smile softening his face as he placed a reassuring hand on Harry¡¯s shoulder. Harry managed a weak smile in return before trudging towards the tent, throwing me a guilty glance over his shoulder.


    ¡°You wait here,¡± the old man said, stopping me with a nod as I moved to follow Harry. ¡°Your support, Achehar, will be needed later.¡±


    ¡°Why do you keep calling me Achahar?¡± I snapped irritably. ¡°What does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°What else would you be,¡± he said, squinting at me slyly, ¡°if not a spirit that¡¯s travelled through time? Achehar fits, doesn¡¯t it?¡± He chuckled softly and disappeared into the tent, leaving me utterly baffled. So, he¡¯d known who I was all along¡ªeven before viewing my memories?


    Harry was gone for a good three hours. By the time the shaman emerged, night had fallen. He looked tired but content.


    ¡°He managed,¡± the shaman said with a smile as I leapt to my feet and rushed toward him. ¡°It all went well. The boy¡¯s strong; he endured the pain.¡±


    ¡°Pain?¡± I shot back, aghast. ¡°You said it wouldn¡¯t hurt!¡±


    ¡°His spirit hurt, Achehar, not his body,¡± the shaman corrected calmly, his gaze steady. ¡°The Horcrux tormented him with visions¡ªhis mother¡¯s death, the indifference and cruelty of his adoptive family, anger towards you, jealousy of those more loved. It lied to him, twisted the truth, and fed those feelings to make them stronger. The boy went through hell.¡±


    ¡°But I thought you were just going to dissolve the Horcrux!¡± I protested, my voice rising. ¡°Why did Harry have to go through all that?¡±


    ¡°I am merely a guide, not a god,¡± the shaman replied serenely, settling by the fire and lighting his pipe again. ¡°It¡¯s not my place to decide for someone else¡¯s soul. I provided support¡ªit¡¯s always easier to fight when you know someone¡¯s there. Now it¡¯s your turn to be there for him, Achehar. That child¡¯s deepest fear is being unwanted.¡±


    I hesitated before sitting beside him, then asked, ¡°Tell me, am I like Voldemort? A wandering spirit that¡¯s taken over someone else¡¯s body?¡±


    ¡°You foolish boy,¡± he said with a warm chuckle. ¡°A spirit has no name or gender; it lives many lives, gaining experience. You simply remembered one of your other lives. In truth, when your spirit was thrown from Ron¡¯s body by the shock, you had time to be born and live another life before your body here healed enough to pull you back. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t recall dying¡ªit happened abruptly, and part of your consciousness returned, bringing those memories with it.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t remember being Ron,¡± I argued.


    ¡°Well, you were born into a new body and lived far longer in that life than in your old one. You rejected Ron¡¯s consciousness and suppressed it. But you¡¯ve accepted yourself now, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I have,¡± I admitted with a firm nod, feeling a strange sense of relief. ¡°But why doesn¡¯t the spirit keep its past life¡¯s memories when it¡¯s reborn? Wouldn¡¯t that make things easier¡ªavoiding the same mistakes, knowing where you went wrong?¡±


    ¡°Because of fear,¡± he explained. ¡°Fear holds us back. If you feared heights in a past life, you¡¯d fear them again in this one. You¡¯d cling to the same likes, dislikes, habits. If you were lazy, you¡¯d stay that way; if you avoided people, you¡¯d remain a recluse. Your life would stagnate, and where there¡¯s no movement, there¡¯s death. Without challenges and self-discovery, a spirit cannot grow. It thrives on experience, and the memories of its past body aren¡¯t needed,¡± he added, standing up. ¡°Now, let¡¯s go. I¡¯ll carry the boy. We all need some rest.¡±

 Chapter 40

    Morning came, as it always does, no matter how late I¡¯d gone to bed. I woke early anyway, unable to shake my restless thoughts¡ªwondering if I¡¯d done the right thing by starting all this... But what was done was done.


    Before breakfast, I brought the promised Basilisk skin to the shaman and had a chat with Charlie. He suggested that after selling the venom, we should arrange Portkeys for everyone, as a fallback. That¡¯s what I liked about him¡ªhe was genuinely decent. He insisted war was an adult matter, and sending half-trained teenagers into battle was out of order, no matter how noble the cause. He even mentioned it might be best if Hermione and Harry left Britain after fifth year. Back home, people would brand him a coward for saying that, but in my book, he was one of the most sensible wizards I¡¯d ever met. And I was relieved to have him in my corner.


    Harry woke up half an hour before breakfast but skipped it altogether, hurrying straight to the shaman. He got a few potions to ease the aftermath of the dissolution, and no doubt the old man gave him some sage-like pep talk. Even so, Harry still looked miserable.


    ¡°How¡¯re you holding up?¡± I asked after dinner. He¡¯d barely touched his meal and then wandered off to the lake, leaving me to calm a worried Hermione before dashing after him¡ªon the shaman¡¯s advice, I wasn¡¯t about to let him brood alone.


    ¡°Not great, Ron,¡± he muttered, refusing to meet my eye, tearing at the grass under his fingers. ¡°I can¡¯t get past what happened yesterday.¡±


    ¡°If you want to talk,¡± I offered, ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried you won¡¯t want anything to do with me if you realise who I really am,¡± he said, shooting me a pained glance. ¡°I¡¯m a monster¡­ I saw it¡­¡±


    ¡°A monster, are you?¡± I joked. ¡°Then you¡¯ve obviously never met the twins.¡±


    ¡°Ron, be serious,¡± he snapped, clearly upset.


    ¡°Alright, if you insist,¡± I replied, softening my tone. ¡°You¡¯re not going to tell me anything so awful no one¡¯s ever done it before. Believe me, everything in the world¡ªgood or bad¡ªhas already happened a hundred times over. You¡¯re not that special,¡± I added with a faint grin. ¡°So what¡¯d you see that scared you so badly? Did you torture a cat, or refuse to help an old lady cross the street?¡±


    ¡°I saw my childhood, stuff I¡¯d forgotten,¡± he whispered. ¡°It started off like the Mirror of Erised, and I was looking at myself. Then this other kid showed up¡ªhe said we were alike¡ªand showed me the Dursleys and me, only younger. I remembered hating that they loved Dudley, not me. Back then, I didn¡¯t know I wasn¡¯t theirs, so I was jealous of my ¡®brother.¡¯ I actually wanted Dudley gone or dead, just so they¡¯d love me instead. A bookcase nearly fell on him once¡ªit was sheer luck he only got some bruises.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it wasn¡¯t you,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°It was me!¡± he said angrily, jumping up and pacing. Then he sank back down with a defeated sigh, voice spilling out in a sudden rush:


    ¡°I thought it was some ¡®fairy of justice,¡¯ like they told us in primary school, punishing rotten people if you complained. You¡¯ve no clue how I despised the Dursleys, wanted them all to hurt. Whenever their stuff broke or got ruined, I was secretly pleased. My aunt reckoned I was just making hair change colour or floating objects around¡ª¡®freaky tricks,¡¯ as she¡¯d say¡ªbut she never guessed it was me causing all those other accidents: the shorted wires, Dudley crashing his shiny new bike, Uncle Vernon breaking his leg after stumbling over nothing¡­


    ¡°I just stood there, enjoying it. That¡¯s why they tossed me in the cupboard and ignored me. I used to nick Dudley¡¯s new toys too¡ªbury them in the yard or chuck them in the pond¡ªbecause I was jealous he got presents and I didn¡¯t. And whenever I fried bacon for them, I¡¯d wish they¡¯d choke on it. But after I found out I wasn¡¯t actually their son, I just felt relief. My hate fizzled out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I asked, brows raised.


    ¡°Then the boy said if I joined him, I could take revenge on those pathetic Muggles. All I had to do was agree, and nobody¡¯d ever hurt me again¡ªI¡¯d never be alone again, and that was what we both needed.


    ¡°But then the mirror showed all these people¡­ probably my ancestors, and the boy vanished. Dad turned up next¡ªVoldemort killed him right in front of me¡ªthen Mum. She was screaming, ¡®Not Harry¡­ kill me instead,¡¯ shielding me with her body. He laughed and hit her with green light. The voice kept whispering, ¡®They were brave but foolish. If you don¡¯t obey, the same will happen to you.¡¯ He murdered more and more people, and the blood, the screaming¡ªthen it was all of you lying dead, covered in blood. He said it was my fault because I wouldn¡¯t give in, and he¡¯d kill everyone I cared about¡­ I hated him, wanted him dead¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough,¡± I cut him off, resting a hand on his shoulder. ¡°They were just visions. Simply tricks.¡±


    His eyes were wet when he looked up, though he might not even realise it.


    ¡°He¡¯s brilliant, that Dark Lord,¡± I said with grim admiration.


    ¡°What?¡± Harry asked, blinking and wiping his glasses.


    ¡°The shaman reckons the Horcrux can only merge with you through nasty emotions¡ªrage, fear, hatred. First it tried stoking your anger at the Dursleys. When that failed, it tried frightening you, then turning that fear on yourself, then turning it against him. But you managed to resist, and that¡¯s what matters.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just as much a monster as he is,¡± Harry said despondently, covering his face with his hands.


    ¡°Rubbish,¡± I countered firmly. ¡°You¡¯re just human, Harry, like the rest of us. Think only saintly folk never have nasty thoughts? Doesn¡¯t work that way. They just don¡¯t act on them. Half the population sometimes wants to knock the head off someone for hardly any reason, but only a tiny fraction actually does it. Lucky for us, they all end up in prison. The rest of us would rather fight our demons and beat them.¡±


    ¡°Do you really think so?¡± Harry lifted his head.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said with a small grin. ¡°When I was seven, the twins nearly did me in with one of their new inventions. You¡¯ve no idea how I wanted to finish them off. I even gave them a solid beating once. Now I think they¡¯re great guys. And sometimes I resent my parents for having so little money, because I¡¯m tired of wearing everyone else¡¯s hand-me-downs. Why do they have to save pennies specifically on me? But still, I¡¯m glad Mum had me. Life¡¯s worth living, Harry. So it¡¯s not as if you¡¯re the only one who struggles with dark feelings. The important thing is you know they¡¯re dark, and you fight against them.¡±


    ¡°But Voldemort said we¡¯re alike. I can¡¯t ignore that,¡± Harry pressed, though he seemed calmer now.


    ¡°Alike how?¡± I asked. ¡°You were wanted by your parents¡ªhe was raised in an orphanage. And if you¡¯re talking about your aunt not loving you, well, she didn¡¯t have to. At least she gave you a place to stay. You had every right to be upset with her too. But there¡¯s nothing else you have in common with the Dark Lord¡ªunless you count speaking Parseltongue, which came from him only because he decided to show up at your house.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°So I¡¯m not the Heir of Slytherin now?¡± Harry asked out of nowhere.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you. You might share ancestry through the Peverells, but an heir? Doubt it. And to be honest, he wasn¡¯t one, either. He¡¯s half-blood, and Slytherin would¡¯ve recognised only pureblood descendants. So, yeah, chatting to the basilisk¡­ but do you really want all that fanfare that comes with the title?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Harry said, shaking his head. ¡°Just curious whether Zara¡¯ll still listen to me now.¡±


    ¡°As if she¡¯s got a choice,¡± I sighed. ¡°Far as I know, you¡¯re the only Parselmouth left in Britain. Let¡¯s get something to eat; I¡¯m famished.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Harry perked up a bit. It¡¯s quite something how his mood swings.


    ¡°Ron,¡± he stopped me, grabbing my arm. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°No worries,¡± I said, a bit sheepish. ¡°Just don¡¯t go hiding things again, Harry, or you¡¯ll end up hatching another stupid idea.¡±


    The rest of the holidays were a good laugh. Admittedly, for the first couple of days Harry¡¯s mood was all over the place¡ªhe¡¯d run off for a cry, or get angry, or stare at nothing for ages. But I got Hermione on board, and she wouldn¡¯t let him mope.


    The shaman said he¡¯d be fine in a month or two. He even came to see us off in brand-new boots before we headed back, one day before the train home. That evening, Charlie turned up with a bag of money for me, and I just gawked. An ounce of basilisk venom fetched a thousand Galleons¡ªfive thousand a flask.


    ¡°Charlie, how much to hire someone to neutralise the ring?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Five hundred Galleons,¡± he said, ¡°but that¡¯s a non-starter, Ron. Anyone coming into Britain has to register. When I sent lads to you for that dragon egg, I went through smugglers in Knockturn. But this business with a Horcrux¡ªno one can know about that. Maybe talk to Snape first; if that fails, we¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°Charlie, you never did explain this ¡®blood traitor¡¯ business to me. Look at Potter¡ªwhy isn¡¯t he a traitor, since his dad married a Muggle-born? Or Black, who ran off from home. Or his cousin, who also married a Muggle-born and nothing came of it. Then there¡¯s Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, both half-bloods, and Snape¡¯s mum married a Muggle, though her surname Prince is in ¡®Ancient Houses of Britain.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Wait, slow down,¡± my brother cut me off. ¡°One thing at a time, Ron. First of all, women never inherit the family line, so if a daughter marries someone ¡®unsuitable,¡¯ she¡¯s considered to have left that House. And any question of ¡®traitors¡¯ never comes up. Usually they¡¯d just disown her so her kids wouldn¡¯t inherit. Had a daughter¡ªno daughter, basically. And no one chucked Black out¡ªWalburga wasn¡¯t daft enough to ditch her own flesh and blood, which is all that family cares about. Most likely he just gave up his birthright to Regulus and they let him bugger off with a bit of pocket money, leaving him to his shenanigans. But if he¡¯d married a Muggle-born, that¡¯d be different. This way he didn¡¯t actually break anything or taint the bloodline. As for the Dark Lord, I¡¯ve no clue. If his dad¡¯s side never claimed him, he¡¯s just a bastard, not an heir. Who else did you bring up? Potter and Dumbledore?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I nodded, ¡°neither of them is called blood traitors.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know about Dumbledore¡ªhis family¡¯s not that old, never made the official ¡®sacred¡¯ list, so they may not have banned Muggle-born matches. Potter''s different. His line¡¯s massive, branched out in the twelfth century and doesn¡¯t share inheritance. The main branch¡¯s heir was Henry, but he got killed in the first war along with his folks. His parents, Carlus and Dorea, were dead set on staying pure¡ªprouder than the Blacks, those folk. Dorea was a Black, actually. Meanwhile our Harry is descended from Fleamont and Euphemia, heirs to another branch. They lived in Godric¡¯s Hollow, not the family seat, and built up their wealth on their own.


    ¡°Harry Potter¡¯s great-grandad¡ªthe one he¡¯s named after¡ªwas a direct descendant of Hardwin and Iolanthe Potter. He caused uproar, publicly shaming the sitting Minister for banning wizards from helping Muggles in the First World War. Everyone saw it as Muggle sympathies, so they booted him from the ¡®Sacred Twenty-Eight¡¯ as ¡®unfit conduct for a pureblood wizard.¡¯ So the Potters of the main line don¡¯t inherit from him anyway, and what they do in their own House is their business. Not all pureblood Houses cling to blood quite so fiercely as the Blacks. Or did you think Britain only had twenty-eight pureblood families?¡± he scoffed. ¡°They¡¯re just the ones who¡¯ve never bred with Muggles¡ªat least, so the records show. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°What about us, then?¡± I ventured.


    ¡°Prewetts¡ªon mum¡¯s side¡ªwere completely wiped out in the first war. Only our mother and aunt survived. The more extreme purebloods couldn¡¯t forgive the fact that our grandfather let his daughter marry a blood traitor and didn¡¯t disown her¡ªsaw it as squandering pure blood. Besides, Uncle Ignatius and Grandad both refused to join the Dark Lord. They were both killed along with their families, and our closest relations, the Bulstrodes and Flints, were supposedly involved. But that sort of thing happened a lot back then¡ªplenty of pureblood lines died out completely. Mum and Dad were still at Hogwarts, had to ask the Order of the Phoenix for help. I still remember the time we lived in Dumbledore¡¯s cottage in Godric¡¯s Hollow, staying hidden. Then, once the uncles avenged the murders, we moved to the Burrow. But Mum¡¯s brothers ended up losing their lives in a fight with the Death Eaters soon after.¡±


    ¡°And what about the Weasleys?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to get that story from Dad,¡± he deflected, clearly not keen on the topic. ¡°And trust me, it¡¯s even nastier.¡±


    ¡°Hard to imagine worse,¡± I muttered, deciding I¡¯d push a bit more¡ªonly for Harry and Hermione to stroll back from a final souvenir run, forcing me to drop it.


    The very next day, after breakfast, we left for Britain. None of us really wanted to go back yet, but we all thanked Charlie no end.


    ¡°That was just brilliant,¡± Hermione gushed over and over when we dropped her off at home, turning her back over to her parents. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it to be so amazing. Learned so much. Thanks, Ron! Your brother¡¯s fantastic!¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind going again next year,¡± Harry agreed. ¡°I really warmed to Charlie¡ªand those dragons! I¡¯m almost set on working in a reserve someday.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to get in line,¡± I teased. ¡°I¡¯m planning it first. Right then, Hermione, see you soon. We¡¯ll write¡­¡±


    ¡°¡¯Bye, Hermione,¡± Harry added, ¡°had a great holiday together.¡±


    ¡°Bye, boys¡­ Mr Weasley, thanks for your hospitality,¡± she said as Dad, waiting in the open car window, nodded at her. Then we drove off to Privet Drive. Dumbledore had already warned Harry he¡¯d need to come back here after the trip.


    Harry was thoroughly upset about it¡ªhe¡¯d hoped they¡¯d let him stay on, and I felt terrible for him, after all he¡¯d been through. It was like chucking a kitten out in the rain after sheltering it. But when Mum and Dad and Dumbledore are all in agreement, there¡¯s not much you can do, never mind that I¡¯d sworn I¡¯d find some way to spare him a miserable summer.


    At least he wrote me, the same evening. He was relieved his uncle allowed him to keep his trunk in his room, so he could read magical books. Three days later, right in the middle of our lunch, an owl delivered a letter saying we¡¯d won some grand prize. Mayhem broke loose in the house.


    At first, everyone pitched in their bright ideas for spending that heap of money¡ªseven hundred Galleons in total. Once we¡¯d talked ourselves hoarse, Dad suggested we all take a trip to Egypt¡ªhave ourselves a holiday and visit Bill as well. Oddly enough, everyone jumped at it, but I found myself unexpectedly hacked off and stomped outside before I lost my cool. Dad eventually found me out there.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Ron?¡± he asked calmly, settling next to me on a battered old bench. ¡°You¡¯re not on board with everyone else¡¯s decision?¡±


    ¡°You know, Dad,¡± I started, ¡°sometimes it feels like I¡¯m not the same as all of you. I just can¡¯t get my head around blowing that much money on a vacation when, only a couple of years back, we could hardly scrape together enough to buy Percy a wand. I look around here¡ªthese shabby benches, the endless mending of clothes. And at school I can¡¯t help but notice everyone else. It drives me mad that people call me a blood traitor from a huge, penniless family. I love you all, but I can¡¯t stand being poor. It¡¯s not fair. Where does all our money go anyway? My brothers have moved out, yet I¡¯m still stuck wearing Percy¡¯s hand-me-downs,¡± I burst out, glaring up at him in frustration.


    Dad heard me out without interrupting or showing any sign of anger. When I¡¯d finished, he stood up and held out a hand.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never done Side-Along before, have you?¡± he asked. ¡°Brace yourself, Ron¡ªit¡¯s a bit unpleasant.¡±


    He pulled me close, and I felt the yank of Apparition.

 Chapter 41

    When we landed and Dad stepped aside, I doubled over. I was gulping down the damp sea air, leaning on my knee, while Dad patiently waited for me to feel better.


    ¡°You all right, Ron?¡± he asked, bending over me with concern. ¡°Feeling okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, straightening up. ¡°That¡­ that felt pretty rough.¡±


    He gave a short laugh, and I looked around in surprise. We were standing on an ocean shore, with miles of empty land all around. About half a mile off in the other direction, near some cliffs, stood a large three-story structure. A sandy path of grey stone slabs led towards it. This place felt quite desolate. Right now, in summer sunshine, it was actually quite pleasant¡ªlike a beach. But I dreaded to think what it might be like come autumn, with cold drizzle and sharp winds blowing in from the sea.


    ¡°Here, Ron, look,¡± Dad said, nodding toward the house and slipping an arm round my shoulders. ¡°This is the ancestral home of the Weasley family. Let me show you.¡±


    I followed him, still a bit stunned, while he beamed proudly. He didn¡¯t hide how chuffed he was, pointing out details and talking about the surroundings.


    ¡°Tinworth is about three miles beyond those cliffs,¡± he explained, ¡°Our house, as you can see, is a bit out of the way."


    ¡°Tinworth¡­ that¡¯s in Cornwall, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked, digging in my memory.


    ¡°Exactly!¡± he said, smiling brightly and giving my shoulder a friendly pat.


    There wasn¡¯t a gate or fence around the house, but as we got closer, I felt something shift¡ªa sort of ripple, like stepping through an invisible wall.


    ¡°You felt it?¡± he said eagerly. ¡°Yes, no one can enter unless they¡¯re a Weasley or escorted by one. And I¡¯d rather you not mention this place to anyone¡ªbrothers included.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°Does Mum know?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he answered, heading inside and beckoning me to follow, ¡°It was her idea as much as mine."


    The house itself? Well, it was a house. Spacious, sure, but not a mansion. Bright and airy. The entire ground floor was an open plan with a kitchen, dining room, and sitting room¡ªclearly designed with a big family in mind.


    Dad showed me around all three floors. The rooms were small but practical. No windows yet¡ªjust shimmering magical films over the frames, like force fields. No decoration, either; the grey, processed stone walls felt a bit oppressive. But if I closed my eyes, the house¡¯s magic was undeniable¡ªsteady and calming. The place had a strong, even magical aura that felt like a warm embrace.


    After the tour, we stepped outside and sat on a driftwood log that had been washed ashore. The bark was weathered, crusted with salt. We sat there for ages, Dad gazing dreamily at the ocean while I just listened to the waves and let my thoughts drift.


    "So, you bought this place, Dad?" I finally ventured, breaking the silence.


    "Didn¡¯t buy it¡ªbuilt it," he said, smiling softly but with a tinge of sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°I owe a lot to all of you, Ron,¡± he confessed. ¡°I know I can¡¯t give you more than the basics. But I¡¯ve no other choice. My responsibility is to restore our family line, and I need to manage it while I¡¯m still here. I lost everything when I was in my final year at Hogwarts. Family, relations, our house¡­ I was left with nothing overnight¡ªtwenty Galleons in my pocket, a school trunk, and a thousand gold in the bank. And your mum had little more. I¡¯m very grateful she didn¡¯t call off the engagement and still married me.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked softly, watching his expression. ¡°I heard all our relatives were killed, but¡­ why? Why are we ¡®blood traitors¡¯? Was it You-Know-Who?¡±


    ¡°It started way before him, Ron,¡± Dad sighed. ¡°Ever since the Statute of Secrecy, our worlds¡ªwizards and Muggles¡ªwere fully cut off from each other. Those from the magical world were fine, but those coming in¡ªMuggle-borns and half-bloods¡ªarrived with nothing and left with nothing. The old pureblood families were split in two camps. One side believed total isolation from Muggles, shutting out new magical blood and ideas, would lead to decline; the other side refused to share power and centuries of knowledge with outsiders. One side felt any wizard is a wizard, regardless of blood; the other insisted Muggle-borns ¡®steal¡¯ magic from ancient families and didn¡¯t want them in what they saw as their rightful domain.¡±


    ¡°But you can¡¯t just ¡®steal¡¯ magic,¡± I said in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s absurd.¡±


    "Of course it is," Dad replied evenly. "But no one knows where magic comes from. The radical pure-bloods argued that magic was a finite resource, passed down through bloodlines. They claim wizards are a completely separate, ¡®higher¡¯ race, while Muggle-borns are simply the offspring of old families¡¯ Squibs. So they say a family¡¯s magic is being diverted elsewhere. They used to kill Squibs in infancy before¡ªwell, the more radical lines did. Later, once attitudes changed, that was condemned, and Squibs were quietly sent off to live among Muggles.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrifying,¡± I gasped.


    ¡°A measure they deemed essential for ¡®survival¡¯,¡± Dad said flatly, almost emotionless. ¡°Whatever didn¡¯t meet their ¡®standards¡¯ was pitilessly wiped out to keep future generations ¡®pure and healthy.¡¯ Weak wizards, children born with deformities¡ªgone. Even a big birthmark was reason enough, so it wouldn¡¯t get passed on, ¡®spoiling¡¯ the line.¡±


    "And our family?" I asked bitterly.


    ¡°I never asked, Ron,¡± Dad said gravely, ¡°but it¡¯s obvious¡ªsince we¡¯re an ancient line. And I don¡¯t want to know things I can¡¯t accept. I¡¯d never do it myself and that¡¯s enough for me. Like my father before me, I¡¯d never turn my back on my own child, no matter what.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Dad,¡± I muttered, leaning into his shoulder. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to upset you.¡±


    He offered a faint smile, ruffling my hair. ¡°I understand, son¡ªI felt the same when I learned all this, once upon a time. But we can¡¯t be blamed for the choices of others.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°So¡­ what happened next?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Dad said, snapping out of his thoughts. ¡°Over time, the disputes in our society only grew worse. Pureblood heirs started marrying newcomers. The Wizengamot voted against a ban on marriages to Muggles. Old lines felt threatened. They retreated further, refusing to let their blood mingle. Eventually, in the thirties, a list of families who¡¯d remained ¡®pure¡¯ was compiled.¡±


    ¡°The Sacred Twenty-Eight, right?¡± I said.


    ¡°In those days, it was fifty-seven families,¡± Dad said with a wry smile.


    ¡°So where¡¯d the others go?¡± I asked.


    ¡°They were killed,¡± Dad answered curtly, eyes lowered. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t or couldn¡¯t preserve the ¡®purity¡¯ of their lines. Not everyone was so radical. Yet when the best solution was murder¡­ well, you can guess. Many old lines vanished completely. We survived by a fluke. My own relatives died, so did your mum¡¯s, once her father refused to break our engagement.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like some twisted sort of wizard fascism,¡± I snapped, standing up and pacing. Anger boiled inside me.


    ¡°They did the same in many countries at the time,¡± Dad said calmly. ¡°Grindelwald had a hand in purging old lines for ¡®true¡¯ purity. It was a grim era,¡± he added, sadness flickering in his eyes, but it seemed he¡¯d long made peace with it. ¡°Anyway, the upshot is both Mum and I were left alone. Both families gone. I was on my final year at Hogwarts. We had nowhere to turn except Dumbledore, so we hid in his cottage in Godric¡¯s Hollow until it was safe. Then, when Charlie turned three, I found a ministry post, we left Dumbledore¡¯s place, and that was that.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s all this got to do with the house, though?¡± I asked after calming a bit and sitting down. ¡°We still have the Burrow.¡±


    ¡°The Burrow?¡± Dad wrinkled his nose. ¡°I hate that place, Ron. Molly¡¯s warmth and effort made it a home, but it was once just a house, an ordinary wizard cottage. My brother lived there, the one who married a Muggle-born. That¡¯s where they were killed and their bodies burned¡ªscattered everywhere. I never even found remains to bury. I avoided it for so long, but when you lot came along, I had to settle. I put it back together from the ground floor¡¯s remains. Walls were stone, so they endured. We couldn¡¯t sponge off Dumbledore forever. I feel indebted to him, but I couldn¡¯t go and fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fully, not with a wife and kids to look after.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just build a new place on the Burrow¡¯s land? Demolish the old structure?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Dad sighed as though it was obvious. ¡°You can¡¯t just set up an ancestral house anywhere. You need a newborn source of magic for that, so house-elves might appear once it¡¯s bonded. Sure, you could try to conquer someone else¡¯s source and tear their wards down, but it would take a century for the aura to fade, and even then, it might stay cursed. A real family seat wouldn¡¯t work. And if the line¡¯s truly ancient, secured by blood wards, you¡¯d be dealing with a cursed patch. Malfoy once made that mistake and regretted it,¡± he said with a slight grin.


    ¡°Malfoy?¡± I asked. ¡°Draco?¡±


    ¡°No, not the boy¡ªhis granddad,¡± Dad explained. ¡°Our murders were initiated by the Blacks. My mother was a Black, and they loathed that her husband¡¯s line was deemed ¡®traitors.¡¯ They tried to pressure my Father, didn¡¯t manage, so they wiped them out. I suspect the Bulstrodes and Flints helped, too, being our near relations. They wanted the land but couldn¡¯t break the wards. So they torched everything with Fiendfyre¡ªno evidence, no sign. Everything was gone, including the family crypt.¡±


    ¡°And how do the Malfoys fit in?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Their ancestors arrived with William the Conqueror in 1066, while our line was here centuries before that. They took some land in Wiltshire¡ªborders ours¡ªand have always had an eye on ours. For several generations, they tried to fit into local society. They may have been pure-blooded, but to our traditionalists, they were outsiders, upstarts. Of course, over hundreds of years of proper marriages, they became one of us, but the most ancient families never considered them equals. After all, our murders let them tie the knot with the Blacks, uniting their lines: Lucius married Narcissa. I assume it was all part of a deal to get rid of ¡®traitors¡¯ once and for all. Then the Malfoys put in a claim with the Wizengamot to buy all the local land, including ours. A wizard can¡¯t just privately own an open magical patch. It has to be tied to an existing house. No house? Then it¡¯s ¡®nobody¡¯s land,¡¯ the Ministry eventually auctions it off.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Because wards are so secret, you can¡¯t see them¡ªancestral places aren¡¯t on any maps. People might know you live in this or that county, but not precisely where. You can¡¯t prove right of ownership otherwise. Malfoy assumed my father¡¯s wards would vanish once they killed everyone, but Dad¡¯s blood magic remained. When he died, the source effectively died with him, cursing the place for centuries. So Malfoy¡¯s out of luck, stuck with worthless acreage, can¡¯t do anything with it and has to maintain the boundaries. That¡¯s what you call poetic justice.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why they despise us?¡± I asked.


    ¡°As we do them, Ron¡­ as we do them,¡± Dad echoed pensively.


    ¡°So this new house is unbelievably costly, I bet?¡± I said, reining Dad¡¯s thoughts back.


    ¡°It¡¯s ten thousand for the source,¡± he said, brightening. ¡°And that¡¯s only thanks to my connections. The official auctions run far higher. The house itself is seven thousand, plus three to bind the source if it¡¯s finished. Then add a couple thousand more for all the finishing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot,¡± I said, astounded.


    ¡°Sure is,¡± he said with a proud smile, ¡°about a thousand gold each year. Not many wizards can manage that, which is why few have a truly ancestral place.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you could spend the prize money on the house?¡± I ventured.


    ¡°Ron,¡± Dad sighed, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t make a dent. I¡¯ll keep chipping away on my own. We could blow it on new things, refurbish the Burrow, but that changes nothing. Sooner or later, we¡¯d be back to square one. And I want us, for once, to go on holiday, all of us¡ªjust like normal folk. We could never save up enough for that before, but these winnings came out of the blue. Easy come, easy go. If you¡¯d been older, you¡¯d know I¡¯ve slogged my guts out for years, seldom seeing your Mum or you kids outside mealtimes. Now that you¡¯re mostly at Hogwarts, we can breathe. Your mother deserves a break¡ªshe¡¯s never had a proper holiday, and she¡¯s raised all of you, practically singlehanded. Let her enjoy some time with the family before everyone grows up and moves out. And one day, I¡¯ll finish our real family home.¡±


    We fell silent again, the ocean¡¯s hush broken only by the rush of waves.


    ¡°So?¡± Dad asked at length, glancing at me with a half-smile. ¡°We good?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Dad, I understand. But I¡¯m not coming. I don¡¯t want to go to Egypt. Don¡¯t get me wrong I understand everything, and if you¡¯d planned to visit Charlie, then maybe¡­ but not this.¡±


    ¡°What nonsense is this, Ron?¡± he said, frowning. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear a word?¡±


    ¡°I heard. I respect your choice, so respect mine. I don¡¯t want to go.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t leave you at the Burrow on your own,¡± he said, obviously torn. ¡°You get that, right?¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± I countered. ¡°Harry invited me to stay with him.¡±


    ¡°Live with Muggles?¡± Dad said, looking startled.


    ¡°So what? I get on all right with his uncle.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re that determined,¡± he said at last, ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll allow it, but only if I see in writing that his family agrees.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow I¡¯ll head over by the Knight Bus and ask for their permission,¡± I promised.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he nodded, extending a hand to help me up. ¡°Though I¡¯d be glad if you changed your mind, Ron.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t, Dad. But you¡¯re the best father in the world.¡±


    He gave a proud grunt and a warm smile¡ªso much fatherly love shone in his eyes, it nearly bowled me over. Then Apparition snatched us again, that final image of grey stone and incomplete walls lingering in my mind. And in spite of everything I¡¯d learned, a strange contentment settled over me.

 Chapter 42

    The next morning, I woke up early but stayed in bed for a long while, thinking things over.


    Of course, Harry hadn¡¯t actually invited me to stay¡ªhe barely had a place at the Dursleys¡¯ himself. Two wizards in one house might be pushing things for them. But I decided to take the risk anyway. I had something to offer him, after all.


    Right after breakfast, I sent Harry a note in our notebook, asking him to get his uncle¡¯s work phone number. He swiped a business card from Vernon¡¯s office, and within an hour, I was at the village post office making the call.


    The conversation with Vernon didn¡¯t go smoothly, at least at first. When he answered, he thought I was a potential customer and sounded almost pleasant. The moment I introduced myself, though, he started yelling and was about to hang up. But I managed to squeeze in, ¡°I¡¯ve had another dream. Take it or leave it.¡±


    ¡°Come over,¡± he grunted, cutting the call short.


    I summoned the Knight Bus, and less than thirty minutes later, I was walking down the corridor to his office on the second floor.


    I didn¡¯t expect Dursley to have such a serious-looking company. Say what you want about the man, but he clearly knows his trade. The place was all polished and professional, like a posh lawyer¡¯s office. Even his secretary¡ªa sharp-looking woman in her forties¡ªseemed chosen to avoid distractions.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got five minutes,¡± Vernon hissed as he shoved me into his office, glanced around suspiciously, and slammed the door shut.


    ¡°In early August, a prisoner will escape from one of our wizarding jails,¡± I began. ¡°He¡¯s Harry¡¯s godfather, and you¡¯ll see him on your Muggle news. He¡¯ll want to see Harry. Based on what I¡¯ve seen, he won¡¯t cause trouble or harm you, but I doubt you¡¯d enjoy dealing with him. My parents are going on holiday, and I can¡¯t leave Harry alone at a time like this.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you want?¡± Vernon growled. His face had gone through about ten different expressions while I talked, and now he was gripping the arms of his expensive chair like he wanted to strangle something.


    ¡°I want you to invite me to stay at your house,¡± I said simply. ¡°It¡¯s just for appearances¡ªso my parents think I¡¯ll be there all summer. But in mid-August, Harry and I will leave, and Black won¡¯t show up at all. It won¡¯t be for free¡ªI¡¯ll pay you ¡ê100, and we won¡¯t be underfoot. Also,¡± I added, rummaging in my bag and sliding a small vial across his desk, ¡°this.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked, recoiling as if I¡¯d handed him a snake.


    ¡°A very effective potion that could help your business.¡±


    ¡°Elaborate,¡± he said warily, narrowing his eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfectly legal,¡± I said smoothly. ¡°Our medics use it to help children trust them during appointments, to get them to open up. It¡¯s like a mix of trust serum, confidence tonic, and truth potion. I was going to give it to Harry to help him work up the nerve to ask a girl to Hogsmeade. If your feelings are genuine, the person you¡¯re talking to will trust you, feel positively toward you, and overlook small mistakes in conversation.¡±


    ¡°And how would I use it?¡± Vernon said gruffly, but I could see he was intrigued.


    ¡°If you¡¯re honest about wanting to sell your product, it¡¯ll help you make a better impression, so potential clients are more likely to choose you over competitors. But it won¡¯t make someone buy drills if they don¡¯t need them, nor will it work if you lie about price or quality. Just use it like cologne¡ªspray it on, and off you go to close deals. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°And it won¡¯t cause any harm? What if it doesn¡¯t work?¡± he asked, suspicion still etched on his face.


    ¡°Oh, it works,¡± I said with a smirk, leaning back in the chair. ¡°It¡¯s working now, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re still listening to me and haven¡¯t tossed me out.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re trying to influence me!¡± Vernon bellowed, leaping to his feet.


    ¡°Well, I had to show you how it works,¡± I replied coolly, shrugging. ¡°You wanted to understand it, didn¡¯t you? Or did I misunderstand?¡±


    Vernon sank back into his chair, staring at me in shock. Then, after a moment, he pulled out a pen and a blank sheet of paper and began writing quickly.


    ¡°When should we expect you¡­ Ron?¡± he asked, glancing up.


    ¡°In two days, sir,¡± I said with a polite smile. I had no doubt he¡¯d take the bait.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said, handing me the note he¡¯d scribbled, complete with a date.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ll arrive on my own, around four. I¡¯ll bring an inflatable mattress and share Harry¡¯s room if you don¡¯t mind. See you Friday, sir.¡± Vernon glared at me but said nothing as I got up, note in hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him swipe the vial into his desk drawer.


    My parents weren¡¯t too upset when I told them I wasn¡¯t joining them on the trip. Percy, though, was less than thrilled when I handed him responsibility for Scabbers.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do with a rat in someone else¡¯s house?¡± I argued. ¡°Harry¡¯s aunt hates animals, and anyway, Scabbers was yours first.¡±


    Reluctantly, Percy agreed. He was too busy basking in the glow of his prefect badge and top marks to argue much. Mum was practically beaming with pride, while Fred and George teased him twice as much. The house was a circus.


    As for my own results, I was satisfied: all ¡°Outstanding¡± except for three ¡°Exceeds Expectations¡± in Transfiguration, Potions, and History of Magic. I wasn¡¯t disappointed¡ªI¡¯d seen it coming. I¡¯d already chosen my electives: Runes, Muggle Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures¡ªall useful for my future career, hopefully.


    Harry, meanwhile, had been scribbling furiously in our notebook, barely able to believe I was coming. He couldn¡¯t wait. I¡¯d almost forgotten how much more emotional he¡¯d been since the ritual.


    Finally, I packed my bag, said my goodbyes, and called the Knight Bus. My family was leaving for Egypt the next day.


    Those three weeks had gone pretty well, all things considered. We couldn¡¯t use magic, of course, but we had a lot of fun anyway. Harry was thrilled, saying it had been the best birthday he¡¯d ever had.


    The Dursleys greeted me with their usual suspicion, but Harry and I gave them no reason to worry¡ªnot that we saw much of them. After breakfast, we¡¯d leave for London on a regular bus and return just in time for dinner. The day after Harry¡¯s birthday, when Sirius Black¡¯s picture appeared on the news, you should¡¯ve seen Vernon¡¯s face. The very next morning, he unexpectedly offered to drive us to London on his way to work. We still had to find our own way back, but I suspect he was trying to avoid any chance encounters with Harry¡¯s "dangerous" godfather. As for Petunia, she seemed blissfully unaware of the whole thing.


    Dudley didn¡¯t bother us, which was a nice surprise¡ªeither he was scared, or his father had a word with him. We mostly crossed paths with the family during meals, and even then, it was quiet. Once, I casually complimented Vernon¡¯s new car, and we ended up chatting about different makes and models. Well, Vernon talked, and I nodded or added a word here and there. We even touched on boxing when he bragged about Dudley¡¯s progress, which put Petunia in a good mood. It made things a bit less tense, though honestly, I didn¡¯t care much about their comfort¡ªI¡¯d paid my share for staying there.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    When Hermione found out I was staying with Harry, she joined us on our outings. Her family had planned a trip to France, but after our Romania visit, they stayed home, and she was happy to spend time with us.


    The Grangers lived much closer to London than the Dursleys, so Hermione often met us in the city and played tour guide. She showed us all the sights¡ªpalaces, cathedrals, galleries. By the second day, I was a bit tired of it all, to be honest. It was beautiful and educational, sure, but it wasn¡¯t exactly my scene. Most of our time was spent at Chessington World of Adventures, grabbing snacks at a nearby cafe. I dipped into Dad¡¯s emergency stash of Muggle money to cover my share¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t miss a few ¡ê50 notes. By five, we¡¯d walk Hermione home before heading back, and in the evenings, we tackled our summer homework.


    On Harry¡¯s birthday night, owls arrived with presents, and one brought a letter for me from Charlie. He said he regretted not seeing me but understood my decision and praised me for being a good friend to Harry. He obviously assumed I¡¯d stayed because of Harry. Honestly, I hadn¡¯t realized Charlie would be in Egypt; not that it mattered¡ªI wouldn¡¯t have gone anyway even if Harry was absolutely alright.


    I know what a "family holiday" with Mum is like. It¡¯s one big guided tour under her watchful eye, with all of us trudging through the heat and sand. I¡¯ve seen enough pyramids in my previous life to last me a lifetime. And no way would Mum let me go scuba diving with Muggles. Shopping at noisy markets with pushy sellers is not my idea of fun, and I wouldn¡¯t have been allowed to buy anything interesting anyway. The whole thing would¡¯ve been topped off by endless bragging from Bill about his glamorous job. No thanks. Maybe I¡¯ll visit Egypt someday, but definitely not with my family.


    Hagrid sent Harry a copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which we managed to calm down by stroking its spine. It was filled with terrifying creatures, one more gruesome than the next. It got me wondering how Hogwarts professors plan their lessons¡ªdo they have an official curriculum, or do they just wing it? How do exams work? Care of Magical Creatures is an important subject for me, so I decided to ask about it next time I was at the bookstore.


    Mum sent Harry a huge box of sweets for his birthday. Hermione and I chipped in for a broomstick servicing kit, and Harry was over the moon.


    I don¡¯t know how Harry survives with the Dursleys as long as he does. I found the lack of a magical atmosphere unsettling, and my fingers itched to cast spells. By August 12th, we¡¯d had enough. After breakfast, we thanked the Dursleys for their "hospitality," summoned the Knight Bus, and left. Harry made sure to grab the signed Hogsmeade permission slip from his uncle before we left¡ªjust in time to dodge Vernon¡¯s sister, who was due to visit.


    Hermione begged her parents to let her join us when she heard we¡¯d left, but they said no. She openly admitted she was jealous that we could use magic while she couldn¡¯t. Knowing her, she¡¯ll probably find a way to join us soon anyway.


    Harry and I checked into the Leaky Cauldron, where we rented room on the second floor for the rest of the summer. The next morning, while we were having breakfast, we had an unexpected visitor.


    The door burst open without so much as a knock, and in walked a stout man with a self-important air, followed by a tall, thin man in a suit who quickly shut the door behind him.


    The visitor removed his bowler hat, glanced around the room, and focused on Harry, who froze mid-bite, a slice of toast in one hand and a teacup in the other.


    "Ah, Harry, at last I¡¯ve found you!" the man exclaimed, striding over to the table and seating himself across from us without invitation. He placed his hat on the chair beside him. "I¡¯m Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. I must say, Harry, leaving your relatives¡¯ house without informing anyone was quite reckless. Not a wise decision, given the current situation."


    "What situation, sir?" Harry asked, placing his toast back on the plate and setting down his cup. "And who should I have informed? I told my uncle, and he didn¡¯t mind¡ªhe even offered to drive us. His sister¡¯s arriving tomorrow, and we don¡¯t get along."


    "And what, exactly, is the issue, Minister?" I asked, setting down my own cup. "Has something happened?"


    "Ah, and you must be Ron Weasley," the Minister turned his benevolent gaze on me. "No, no, nothing¡¯s happened, my boy. But given the situation¡ªtwo teenagers living on their own..."


    "What happened?" Harry shot up, his voice tense. "Are you hiding something? Did something happen to the Dursleys?"


    "Merlin, Harry, calm down," Fudge said, startled. "Your relatives are fine. It¡¯s just... have you read yesterday¡¯s Prophet?" He pulled a folded newspaper from his robes and handed it to Harry. I leaned in as well, and we both stared at the page. Sirius Black¡¯s face grinned menacingly from the front.


    "Oh, that bloke was on the telly," Harry said, his curiosity piqued as he glanced up at Fudge.


    "You see, Harry," Fudge began, his hands fiddling nervously with the silver clasps on his robes, "Black was a Death Eater and a convicted murderer, sentenced to life in Azkaban. And given your history... well, he was spotted last night in Little Whinging. Several Muggles called the hotline about it. It was decided that you should be moved somewhere safe where Black can¡¯t find you. I intended to escort you personally, but you were already gone. Although, staying here is actually better. So, remain in Diagon Alley, but do not wander into Muggle areas¡ªit''s too dangerous. Stick to the Alley, and as soon as it starts getting dark, head straight back here. Tom will keep an eye on you."


    Fudge forced a crooked smile as he stood abruptly. "Now, if everything¡¯s sorted, I must be off¡ªduty calls, you understand."


    "Wait, Minister!" I jumped up. "Can I ask a favor?"


    "Go on, then," he chuckled, clearly relieved the difficult conversation was over.


    "Harry grew up with Muggles and never had the chance to visit the Ministry of Magic, but he¡¯s always wanted to see how it works. His birthday was just recently, and, well, my dad doesn¡¯t have the clearance to take us..."


    "Is that true, Harry?" Fudge asked, his attention shifting to Harry, who looked utterly baffled.


    "Er... yes! It¡¯s been my dream ever since I learned about the Ministry of Magic," Harry said, throwing me a quick glance before nodding emphatically.


    "Oh, splendid! In that case, I¡¯ll arrange a pass for you and assign a guide," Fudge said, his smile widening. "After all, we are wizards¡ªmiracles are our business. The pass will be waiting for you tomorrow at three, with the gatekeeper. I¡¯ll let Tom know about the Floo connection."


    "Wait, sir," Harry piped up, rising to his feet. "Could you make it a pass for three? Our friend Hermione wants to come too."


    "A girl, eh?" Fudge laughed, giving Harry a sly wink. "Of course, can¡¯t disappoint a young lady."


    With that, he nodded, adjusted his bowler hat, and made for the door. Harry opened his mouth¡ªprobably to explain Hermione wasn¡¯t his girlfriend¡ªbut I tugged on his sleeve, and he wisely stayed quiet. Fudge¡¯s assistant silently closed the door behind them as they left.


    Harry and I exchanged looks, then sat back down at the table.


    "What was that about?" Harry asked, still puzzled. "Since when have I been dreaming of visiting the Ministry?"


    "Look, Harry," I began, choosing my words carefully, "I really need us to get into the Ministry¡ªspecifically the Department of Mysteries. But we need a pass to get in."


    "Why?" Harry asked, his curiosity fully piqued.


    "I¡¯ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else," I said seriously.


    "I swear," Harry said earnestly, practically bouncing in his chair with anticipation. "You know you can trust me."


    "I¡¯ve found out why the Dark Lord came after your family that night," I said quietly.


    "Really?" Harry froze, then sank back into his seat, his hands clenching nervously. "Why? He said Mum didn¡¯t need to die, that he was there for me."


    "He wasn¡¯t lying," I said. "There was a prophecy. During the war, he was close to winning, but then this prophecy surfaced. It said someone born at the end of July would have the power to defeat him. So, he came to kill you."


    "So... I¡¯m supposed to fight him when he comes back?" Harry¡¯s face went pale, his eyes wide with fear.


    "Don¡¯t be ridiculous," I shot back. "You¡¯ve already beaten him¡ªwhen you got rid of that piece of him inside you. That¡¯s what the prophecy meant, not that you¡¯d go at him with a sword or something. He just misunderstood it."


    "Then why the Ministry?" Harry asked, still uneasy but a little calmer now.


    "The Dark Lord only heard part of the prophecy. That¡¯s why he came for you. When he comes back, he¡¯ll want to hear the rest to figure out why he couldn¡¯t kill you. The prophecy is kept in the Department of Mysteries, but only the people it¡¯s about can take it. We need to get there first and destroy it."


    "You think we can do it?" Harry asked, not doubting me for a second.


    "We have to," I said firmly. "We can¡¯t let him get his hands on it. While Hermione and I distract the guide, you¡¯ll find the prophecy and smash it. We¡¯ll go over the plan later, but for now, let¡¯s send Hermione a letter."


    "Start writing," Harry said, springing to his feet. "I¡¯ll wake Hedwig."

 Chapter 43

    Hedwig woke us up early, hooting loudly and pecking insistently at the glass until Harry finally let her in and fed her. She flew up to the wardrobe and settled there, silent at last. The clock showed it was barely nine.


    The racket they made made it impossible for me to fall back asleep, so grumbling at the feathery menace, we got dressed and headed downstairs. To our surprise, we found Hermione already there at a far table, sipping tea, reading the Daily Prophet, and surrounded by books with multicolored bookmarks sticking out of them. Typical Hermione¡ªshe''d managed to arrive even before the owl post could deliver her reply.


    It was clear she was buzzing with excitement about our upcoming trip to the Ministry. While we ate breakfast, she nervously flipped through her books and started bombarding us with facts we didn¡¯t ask for.


    ¡°Our visit to the Ministry is going to be amazing!¡± she said, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. ¡°There are so many departments! I can¡¯t wait to see the atrium, the courtrooms, the Floo Network, and learn how everything¡¯s organized.¡± She rustled some pages and slid a book toward us, pointing to a picture of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. ¡°Did you know the Ministry employs thousands of people?¡±


    ¡°What does it say about Black?¡± Harry muttered, completely ignoring her. He was spreading butter on his third piece of toast, layering it with three slices of cheese, and then topping it off with a piece of ham for good measure.


    ¡°Nothing new,¡± Hermione replied, frowning as she hastily moved her book out of the way of Harry¡¯s crumbs. She glared at him, clearly ready to lecture him about his indifference, but I cut her off.


    ¡°How are your parents, Hermione?¡± I asked, pouring more tea into her cup. ¡°Did they agree to let you stay with us at the inn until the end of summer?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she sighed, her expression falling. ¡°I even showed them my textbook. Look, here.¡±


    She flipped through A History of Magic and found the page she wanted, holding it out for me to read.


    ¡°When the International Statute of Secrecy was established, the Leaky Cauldron was granted special permission to remain as a refuge and sanctuary for wizards in the heart of the city,¡± she quoted, her voice full of importance. ¡°That means the Cauldron is completely safe¡ªprotected by Ministry-monitored wards. It¡¯s a haven for everyone¡ªcriminals, non-humans, even underage wizards.¡±


    ¡°Like a neutral zone?¡± Harry cut in unexpectedly. ¡°Kind of like Hogwarts, where anyone can get help if they ask? Or Gringotts, where they don¡¯t care who you are as long as you have an account?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Hermione nodded. ¡°But my parents only agreed to let me come here during the day as long as I¡¯m back home by six. It¡¯s a half-hour by bus from my house to Charing Cross Road. It¡¯s even quicker by the Tube, but the bus stop is closer.¡± She grinned. ¡°And now I can practice spells too! Hurry up and finish eating¡ªwe¡¯ve still got time to do some magic before lunch.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, exchanging a glance with Harry before lowering my voice and leaning closer to her. ¡°But first, we need to tell you something. It¡¯s a bit of a secret, and we thought you might want to be part of it.¡±


    Hermione¡¯s eyes narrowed with interest. She studied our faces, as if trying to confirm we weren¡¯t joking, and the way she started bouncing slightly on her stool made it clear she was eager to hear more. We quickly finished breakfast and headed upstairs, where we explained everything.


    Unlike Harry, Hermione immediately started analyzing the situation and, of course, found an inconsistency.


    ¡°How do you know all this, Ron?¡± she asked, her sharp gaze darting between us.


    ¡°I can¡¯t explain that just yet,¡± I replied, ¡°but I promise I¡¯ll tell you everything later.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough,¡± she said firmly. ¡°We¡¯re friends, Ron, and friends trust each other. What you¡¯re suggesting isn¡¯t just breaking school rules¡ªit¡¯s breaking the law. I¡¯m willing to help, but I need to know the full story.¡±


    ¡°Shall we tell her, Ron?¡± Harry asked, pleadingly. ¡°She¡¯s right.¡±


    I sighed and shrugged. Fine. He probably just wanted to use this as an excuse to learn more himself. But I couldn¡¯t tell them the truth¡ªonly a version of it.


    ¡°¡­And that¡¯s how the shaman helped me defeat the piece of Voldemort¡¯s soul,¡± Harry finished, glancing between a stunned Hermione and me.


    ¡°In Romania, when I was in the shaman¡¯s tent, I went into a kind of trance,¡± I added smoothly, lying without hesitation. ¡°After that, I started having dreams about the future. Charlie said it can happen¡ªlike a heightened intuition, an inner voice warning me about trouble.¡± I hurried on, cutting off Hermione, who was snapping out of her shock and clearly gearing up to ask a million questions.


    ¡°That¡¯s so unfair!¡± she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. ¡°You two always get the most exciting adventures!¡± She might¡¯ve kept ranting, but Harry nudged her shoulder and hissed for her to keep quiet, his eyes turning to me.


    ¡°So, what exactly did you see?¡± Harry asked, his curiosity evident.


    ¡°Just bits and pieces so far,¡± I said. ¡°The fragment of Voldemort in you, the Hall of Prophecies¡­ My dad might end up guarding the prophecy, and he could get hurt. I want to stop that from happening.¡±


    ¡°You mean you can see what¡¯s going to happen to us?¡± Hermione gasped.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I said carefully. ¡°The visions are more about me and my family.¡±


    ¡°But Harry¡ª¡±


    ¡°Harry¡¯s practically part of my family,¡± I interrupted, ¡°just like you. But not every vision involves you both.¡±


    ¡°Then why not just tell your dad?¡± Hermione suggested. ¡°He could take care of it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± I said firmly. ¡°No one¡¯s going to believe a thirteen-year-old boy about some vague premonitions. Adults always think they know better. Plus, I don¡¯t want to get Charlie in trouble. My parents would never let me visit him again if they thought the shaman did something to me. People fear prophets, Hermione, and I don¡¯t want to become some kind of outcast. Or worse, be controlled and used for some ¡®greater good.¡¯¡±


    "Alright," Harry suddenly interrupted. "Let¡¯s talk about the plan. What do you remember from your vision? Spill it all."


    ¡°Well, from the door, you go right. Ninety-seventh shelf, all the way at the end. There is the glass orb with your name on it,¡± I answered, silently thanking the shaman for the clarity of those memories. I¡¯d never have remembered such details on my own.


    We dove into planning, and Hermione, as usual, came up with a brilliant addition when we decided not just to take the prophecy but to leave behind a fake to avoid suspicion.


    ¡°We need a small item to transfigure into a glass orb,¡± Harry suggested. ¡°If we put enough power into the spell, it should hold for a long time. By the time it vanishes, no one will connect it to us.¡±


    ¡°What if we use a snowball for the transfiguration?¡± Hermione proposed. ¡°When it melts, the water will evaporate without leaving a trace, so there¡¯ll be no evidence. But none of us can manage double transfiguration on our own¡ªwe¡¯ll need to work together.¡±


    We all agreed enthusiastically and spent the rest of the time divvying up roles and practicing the necessary spells: creating snow, shaping snowballs, and casting muffling charms. I decided that if things went sideways, I¡¯d involve Dad¡ªfeeding him the same story I¡¯d told my friends but leaving Harry out of it.


    When the time came, Tom opened up the Floo connection to the Ministry for us.


    We stepped out onto a gleaming parquet floor in a vast, bustling hall and froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the sights. People rushed around, dodging us as they hurried by. The fireplaces on one side constantly emitted new arrivals, while others on the opposite wall swallowed people into green flames.


    The polished floor was so shiny it looked like a mirror, and the deep blue ceiling shimmered with gold symbols that moved about, pausing momentarily as though displaying some magical version of advertisements. Massive golden gates loomed at either end of the atrium.


    ¡°Um... I think we need to find an administrator and check in,¡± Hermione said, snapping out of her awe and switching to her efficient tone. ¡°But let¡¯s move over by the fountain first¡ªwe¡¯re in the way.¡±


    We followed her lead and stepped aside. However, before we could start looking for anyone, a man began walking purposefully toward us. I recognized him as the same assistant who¡¯d accompanied Fudge during his visit to the inn. When he saw we¡¯d noticed him, he stopped near the fountain and beckoned us over.


    ¡°My name is Patrick Smith,¡± he announced grandly when we reached him. ¡°I¡¯m the Minister¡¯s personal assistant. We¡¯ll need to register your visit and confirm your passes. Follow me.¡± He led us to the far end of the atrium, where a lone desk labeled "Security" stood near the ornate golden gates.


    ¡°Goldman, these young visitors are guests of the Minister,¡± Patrick said imperiously to the older man in a blue robe who had stood politely upon our approach. ¡°They¡¯re here for a tour¡ªhere are their passes. I¡¯m leaving them with you; Jones will be along shortly.¡±


    Patrick nodded curtly and disappeared into the crowd, leaving us with the security wizard, who quickly retrieved a long golden rod from beneath the desk.


    ¡°Nothing to worry about,¡± the man said briskly, waving the rod over Harry like a magical metal detector. ¡°Just a routine check for dark artifacts or extra wands.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± I asked, gesturing vaguely at the rod.


    ¡°Standard screening,¡± he explained as he moved on to Hermione and then me. I felt a faint buzz of magic, like the hum of electricity under high-voltage power lines, but it wasn¡¯t unpleasant.


    Once done, he returned to his desk and began inspecting our wands, placing each one on a platform attached to a device that produced narrow strips of parchment with our information. He pinned these onto a spindle and handed our wands back along with silver badges that read Guest - Tour, complete with our names.


    At that moment, our assigned guide arrived. He looked young¡ªprobably fresh out of Hogwarts.


    ¡°I¡¯m the Minister¡¯s secretary,¡± he introduced himself with a touch of self-importance, though his grin gave it away. ¡°But you can call me Theo. I¡¯ll be showing you around. Let¡¯s get started.¡± With that, he led us through the golden gates and toward the elevators.


    To be honest, after an hour, I felt like I¡¯d run a marathon. They took us through every level. The Ministry was like a massive ant colony. Heads of departments worked out of dingy offices barely the size of broom cupboards, and some had to share. Everything looked worn, dusty, and tired¡ªa stark contrast to the flashy atrium with its gaudy golden decor and the over-the-top fountain statue.


    Finally, we finished in the archives and returned to the atrium, only to head through a different set of golden doors and into another elevator.


    ¡°Next, we¡¯ll visit the courtrooms, the Wizengamot chambers, and the Department of Mysteries,¡± Theo announced.


    ¡°Oh, that sounds fascinating,¡± Hermione said eagerly. ¡°I¡¯ve read about the Department of Mysteries, but there isn¡¯t much written on it.¡±


    ¡°No surprise there,¡± Theo replied with a knowing smile, lowering his voice. ¡°It¡¯s so classified that even the Minister doesn¡¯t have access to certain areas. The staff are hired in secret, and no one knows exactly what they do there. But we¡¯re allowed to see the Hall of Prophecies and the Time Room. They¡¯re not exactly thrilling, though¡ªnot much to look at.¡±


    ¡°Still, just being in such a secretive place will be exciting,¡± Hermione insisted, while Harry and I exchanged triumphant glances.


    We descended into what could only be described as a dungeon. The air grew damp and heavy, and the walls felt like they were pressing in on us. It was as if we¡¯d been buried alive¡ªthe weight of earth above seemed tangible. Even Theo seemed unnerved, his earlier confidence giving way to a strained smile.


    ¡°These are the interrogation and trial chambers,¡± he explained as we passed a series of doors. ¡°Numbers one through ten. I think we¡¯ll skip the rest and head this way.¡±


    He darted into one of the rooms, and as we stepped inside, torches flared to life in their brackets, casting light over a circular chamber lined with tiered seating, much like an old arena. In the center of the "stage" stood a single chair bound with chains that slithered ominously across the floor, clinking faintly at our arrival.


    ¡°You may take a seat,¡± Theo murmured, but unsurprisingly, no one volunteered.


    The Wizengamot courtroom was not unlike the regular Ministry courtrooms, save for its larger size and slightly brighter lighting.


    Finally, we made our way up to a single black door.


    ¡°The Department of Mysteries,¡± Theo whispered, pushing it open.


    We entered a circular room with numerous identical doors, two of which were marked by glowing red lights.


    ¡°This way,¡± our guide said brightly, holding his pass to a symbol on the nearest door¡¯s handle.


    The Time Room only seemed to impress Hermione. For me and Harry, it was just a space crammed with clocks and dials of every kind, their relentless ticking gnawing at the edges of our nerves. The only thing of real interest was a bird trapped in a shimmering sphere. Within seconds, it cycled from a swirling mass of glowing silver dust to an egg, a hatchling, then a fully grown hummingbird, before collapsing with a mournful cry back into the dust. The cycle began anew¡ªa mesmerizing but eerie spectacle.


    ¡°A time loop,¡± came an unexpected voice from behind, making us jump.


    A middle-aged man appeared beside us, his face strangely distorted, as though enchanted to blur his features. Not that he was invisible¡ªwe could see him perfectly¡ªbut it was impossible to commit his appearance to memory. Clever magic. The only thing I managed to retain was that he might have been blond.


    ¡°Let¡¯s step out,¡± he suggested, his tone kind but firm. ¡°The ticking can be unnerving.¡±


    He led us into a smaller, brighter room that looked like a staff break area. After pouring us each a glass of juice, he introduced himself as Bob. Hermione, naturally, seized the opportunity to bombard him with questions.


    ¡°All Time-Turners were confiscated by the Ministry back in the 19th century,¡± Bob explained, his voice calm and measured, ¡°after a particularly devastating accident. They¡¯re classified as highly dangerous artifacts. Every member of the old wizarding families was sworn to a magical oath prohibiting them and their descendants from using, creating, or studying Time-Turners anywhere outside the Department of Mysteries. The risk was deemed too great.¡±


    ¡°Are they really that dangerous?¡± Hermione asked, her tone a mix of fascination and doubt.


    ¡°Extremely,¡± Bob replied, his expression grave. ¡°You saw that bird, didn¡¯t you? Under the wrong circumstances, the same could happen to anyone attempting to use a Time-Turner. They¡¯re powerful, but they¡¯re not flawless. A malfunction could cause catastrophic consequences.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯ve read that they¡¯re supposed to only take you a short way back in time and, apart from a bit of strain on the body, they¡¯re relatively safe,¡± Hermione countered, her curiosity unabated.


    ¡°Aging isn¡¯t the main issue,¡± Bob corrected her. ¡°Time-Turners don¡¯t just act on the user. They affect everything around them. The magic they require forces the user¡¯s body to stretch beyond its natural limits, aging them in bursts that can be harmful. But the energy for the actual temporal shift comes from the surrounding environment.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Harry said, looking lost while Hermione froze, her hand over her mouth as though she¡¯d just worked something out.


    Bob sighed, glancing at Harry with a hint of pity.


    ¡°Let me simplify,¡± he said. ¡°Say you had a Time-Turner, Harry, and wanted to go back an hour. The rules advise doing so in isolation, away from others, especially yourself or anyone you interacted with during that time. Even so, your presence would still influence the timeline in ways you might not realize.¡±


    ¡°Always?¡± I asked. ¡°Even if you just sat quietly in a room?¡±


    ¡°Always,¡± Bob confirmed. ¡°Let¡¯s say Harry stepped on a tiny bug without noticing. To him, nothing¡¯s changed. But in the original timeline, he didn¡¯t step on it. Maybe that bug would¡¯ve crawled into someone¡¯s trousers and caused a moment of distraction¡ªenough for them to fall down a staircase, break a leg, and miss an important meeting. Whether the resulting changes are good or bad, the future Harry knew has been altered, even if he¡¯s unaware of it. The timeline he lived has been erased from that point onward.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why everyone handed over their Time-Turners willingly?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Bob said with a nod. ¡°The magical community agreed to surrender them to the Department of Mysteries, and the Wizengamot enacted strict penalties for anyone caught breaking the laws regarding their use. Controlling your own reality is one thing, but allowing someone else to alter it? That¡¯s a nightmare. Here in the Department, we conduct controlled experiments that don¡¯t affect the outside world, sacrificing years of our own lives¡ªor the lives of test creatures¡ªfor the sake of research.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Hermione said, her voice soft as she offered a hesitant smile. She seemed too caught up in thought to even defend the poor test creatures, which was saying something. ¡°That was a fascinating and very enlightening lecture. How do you recruit people to work here?¡±


    ¡°Same as most places,¡± Bob replied with a smile. ¡°We review applications and select the best candidates. But not everyone makes it. You need a particular mindset and dedication for this kind of work. The research takes up all your time, leaving almost nothing for personal pursuits. Not everyone can live for their job. But it¡¯s worth it,¡± he added with a wink as he opened the door for us. ¡°Good luck, future scholars.¡±


    We stepped out, still reeling from what we¡¯d seen, and Theo opened the next door for us. Honestly, I was so drained I could barely muster the enthusiasm to fetch the prophecy anymore.


    We entered a massive, dimly lit room. For a moment, it felt like we¡¯d walked into a deserted Gothic cathedral. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched around the perimeter, each lined with identical glowing orbs, all coated in a thick layer of dust.


    ¡°This is appalling,¡± Hermione grimaced, wrinkling her nose. ¡°Looks like no one¡¯s cleaned in here for a hundred years.¡±


    ¡°Not a hundred, miss¡ªmuch longer,¡± croaked a raspy voice. An ancient-looking man emerged from the shadows, making Hermione startle and retreat behind me.


    ¡°No magic allowed in this room,¡± he rasped, ¡°and you can¡¯t touch the prophecy orbs, or you¡¯ll lose your mind. That¡¯s why it¡¯s so dusty.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t know,¡± Hermione mumbled, visibly flustered. ¡°Can we look around, though?¡±


    ¡°You may, just don¡¯t touch anything,¡± he said with a curt nod, before settling into a rickety chair by a lone desk near the door.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± I said as I approached him. ¡°Where¡¯s the restroom? Our tour¡¯s been going on a while, and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Down the aisle to the right, all the way to the end, then left along the wall. You¡¯ll see the door,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± I said, smiling to hide my relief. It was pure luck the restroom was exactly where we needed it to be.


    ¡°I¡¯m going first,¡± Hermione said quickly, shooting me a meaningful look before disappearing through an inconspicuous door.


    ¡°Harry, you coming?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll look around with Theo for now,¡± he replied, wandering off with our guide down one of the aisles.


    Once Hermione came back, I ducked into the small restroom. On the counter near the mirror, I found the snowball waiting for me. Quickly, I transfigured it into a glass orb and pocketed it. Thankfully, magic worked here in the restroom¡ªeverything from the sink to the toilet functioned with basic spells. If magic had been restricted, our plan would¡¯ve fallen apart.


    While Hermione made her way to the ninety-seventh shelf, I caught up with Harry and Theo. Discreetly, I rolled the orb along the floor under the shelves until Hermione retrieved it. As she moved closer to the end of the aisle, I let a bag of marbles tumble from my pocket. They clattered noisily across the stone floor, drawing the attention of Harry and Theo.


    ¡°Sorry!¡± I exclaimed, adopting a sheepish look as I crouched to pick them up. Harry and Theo joined me, helping gather the scattered marbles.


    ¡°I told you not to bring those to the Ministry, Ron,¡± Harry muttered as he collected some marbles near the edge of the aisle.


    ¡°I forgot about them, alright? Didn¡¯t have time to drop them off before we left,¡± I replied, subtly tossing the collected marbles further down the aisle to keep Theo moving.


    ¡°Harry!¡± Hermione called from a distance, sounding exasperated. ¡°Can you help me? My sandal strap broke, and I can¡¯t use magic in here.¡±


    ¡°Be right there!¡± Harry shouted before heading off in her direction. Our distractions were unnecessary, really. No one was paying us much attention¡ªthere wasn¡¯t much to steal without getting caught, and magic was prohibited. The only real damage you could do here was knocking over an entire shelf, and even that wasn¡¯t easy.


    By the time we picked up the last marble, Hermione and Harry had returned, moving so briskly I didn¡¯t even have time to feel nervous.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head back,¡± Hermione suggested with a touch of feigned irritation. ¡°This place isn¡¯t as creepy as the dungeons, but it¡¯s dreadfully boring. Besides, isn¡¯t there a cafe in the Ministry? I¡¯m starving.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Theo said, clearly relieved. ¡°The pastries there are excellent.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I must try them!¡± Hermione said theatrically as she started toward the entrance. ¡°The ones the Minister eats every day, right? They sound divine.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± Harry said politely when we reached the main aisle, ¡°but could I visit the restroom as well?¡±


    Theo nodded solemnly, and we waited while Hermione peppered him with questions. Harry returned quickly and gave us a subtle wink, easing the tension. We left the dusty archives with lighter hearts, thanking the grumpy old caretaker on our way out.


    The cafe, as it turned out, was quite decent. We spent about twenty minutes there, sampling the famous pastries Theo had mentioned. They gave us them for free, which made them even better. Not long after, Fudge¡¯s pompous assistant reappeared and escorted us to the Floo network, setting up a connection back to the Leaky Cauldron.


    Once we were back at the inn, we ordered lunch from Tom and locked ourselves in our room, brimming with anticipation to learn the details of the ¡°operation¡±.

 Chapter 44

    We were sitting on the rug by the fireplace, interrupting each other as we discussed our operation, occasionally sipping from mugs of butterbeer¡ªa fizzy drink with a mild, fleeting effect that mimicked tipsiness. Kind of like soda, but not as sweet and with a buttery toffee flavor. They say it¡¯s served hot with spices in winter.


    ¡°That was incredible, Ron,¡± Harry said, still breathless with excitement. ¡°And Hermione, you were brilliant. Collecting that dust from the neighboring shelf and sprinkling it on our decoy was genius. It looked completely authentic.¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop it, Harry,¡± Hermione protested, her face turning pink even as she basked in the praise. ¡°You were the one who remembered to stick that scrap of parchment with the date and initials onto the fake.¡±


    ¡°And me? I didn¡¯t do anything at all, apparently,¡± I said, pretending to sulk and taking a long sip from my mug.


    Of course, they started reassuring me otherwise until the adrenaline wore off, and we all began to calm down.


    ¡°You know,¡± Hermione admitted, ¡°I really liked how well we worked together.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Harry agreed, grinning. ¡°It was such a brilliant adventure¡ªand so dangerous!¡±


    ¡°Yes, but let¡¯s hope we don¡¯t have to break the law again,¡± Hermione said, trying to sound serious before breaking into a contented smile.


    Later, I walked Hermione to the bus stop. Harry wanted to come along, but we both insisted he stay behind; there was no point risking it. It wasn¡¯t far¡ªjust to the end of the street. I made sure she got on the bus safely and then headed back to our room. It was still early, but I was too drained to bother with spellwork, so Harry and I wandered through the shops instead. We picked up the last of our school supplies, gawked at the ¡°Firebolt¡± in the window, and, under the weary gaze of the shopkeeper, I bought Hagrid¡¯s biting textbook, a couple of old Care of Magical Creatures books from previous years, and a fresh set of textbooks for my other subjects. We restocked potion ingredients at the apothecary too.


    Dad had given me twenty Galleons before he left, the most I¡¯d ever gotten from him in one go. Luckily, we¡¯d already bought most of the big-ticket items in Romania.


    ¡°Wait, Ron,¡± Harry said, suddenly looking puzzled as we sat at a table in Fortescue¡¯s with our bags piled on the spare chairs. ¡°Didn¡¯t you take Divination?¡±


    ¡°Why would I?¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°If you don¡¯t have a knack for it, it¡¯s a complete waste of time. You¡¯re not going to see anything in that crystal ball except fog, same as with tea leaves. Why bother suffering through it, especially with exams at the end? Besides,¡± I added, ¡°I¡¯ve already picked my career. Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies will be useful for that. Divination¡¯s just fluff. Don¡¯t worry, though¡ªHermione¡¯s taking Divination. You could¡¯ve picked Runes and Muggle Studies too, you know,¡± I said, teasing him. ¡°Then we¡¯d have been in the same classes.¡±


    ¡°No chance,¡± Harry said, wrinkling his nose. ¡°Muggle Studies is boring, and Runes are too complicated¡ªeven if they¡¯re useful. That¡¯s Hermione stuff, really.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve not seen Arithmancy yet¡ªthat¡¯s the real headache,¡± I quipped, marking two types of ice cream and a cherry shake on the floating menu. It flapped its cover like wings and zoomed off toward the kitchen. Harry sighed and made his choices too.


    The next morning, Hermione stormed into our room to wake us up. Ignoring our groggy protests, she launched into a lecture about our lack of discipline and tried to yank the blankets off us. Harry clung to his like a lifeline but fled to the bathroom once she turned her attention to me. Left with no other defense, I let go, stretched luxuriously in my boxers, and smirked.


    Hermione flushed bright red, dropped the blanket, and stormed out, slamming the door and calling me an idiot on her way.


    By the time we went downstairs, she was still sulking. But after we took her shopping, had breakfast at a cafe, and returned to our room, she seemed to have forgotten¡ªor at least pretended to. I did promise to set an alarm for the next morning, though.


    Later, once we¡¯d layered the room with every silencing charm we knew like seasoned conspirators, I frowned and admitted, ¡°I had another vision last night. Dementors will be on the train.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awful,¡± Hermione murmured, her face pale. I could see she wouldn¡¯t let it go until we¡¯d mastered the Patronus Charm.


    We spent the rest of the summer practicing. It was grueling. The spell demanded a perfect balance of focus, intention, and raw magical strength.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what memory to use,¡± Harry lamented one evening, looking utterly drained. ¡°None of them feel right.¡±


    ¡°Same here,¡± Hermione said, her eyes wet with frustration. We could produce solid shields of silver light, but neither of us could conjure a proper Patronus.


    That¡¯s when it hit me. ¡°I think we¡¯ve misunderstood the point,¡± I said, sitting up straighter. ¡°It¡¯s not just about memories. It¡¯s about the feelings behind them¡ªthe light they bring. You have to feel it in your heart, not just think about it. Try imagining the freedom and joy of flying on your broom,¡± I suggested to Harry. ¡°And Hermione, think about the magic itself¡ªnot the spell, but the connection to your magic. You can feel that, right?¡±


    Harry succeeded almost instantly. Hermione managed on her third try.


    Harry¡¯s Patronus was a magnificent stag, just as I¡¯d expected¡ªgraceful and proud, with sprawling antlers. Hermione surprised us, though. Her Patronus wasn¡¯t a mammal but a bird¡ªa wise, majestic owl. As for me, my Patronus remained a shimmering, protective shield¡ªstronger than ever, though it still didn¡¯t take shape.


    ¡°Ron, why didn¡¯t yours form?¡± Hermione asked hesitantly, as if embarrassed by her success.


    ¡°I asked Charlie about it,¡± I admitted. ¡°Sometimes, when someone¡¯s focused on protecting others rather than themselves, their Patronus stays like this. It¡¯s supposed to turn into a sphere of light that spreads out to protect everyone around you. I just don¡¯t have enough magical strength yet to pull it off. Someday, though, I¡¯ll get there¡ªand it¡¯ll be something real, like yours.¡±


    Harry and Hermione kept themselves entertained by sending messages through their Patronuses to each other¡ªand me. Hermione¡¯s serious-looking owl delivering messages in her voice was absolutely priceless. Later, when I gave them a detailed account of what I¡¯d seen in my vision, we came up with a proper plan to protect the first-years on the train.


    We also decided to share spells we¡¯d learned. I taught them some cleaning charms and a few basic healing ones I¡¯d picked up from Mum¡¯s books before Hogwarts. I¡¯d only ever used them on Snape and tidying up my room, but still, useful stuff. Honestly, Tom¡¯s room had never sparkled so much.


    About a week before my family was due back, I popped over to the Burrow to grab my broomstick.


    ¡°Oh, and these books,¡± I said casually when I returned, handing a stack to Harry and Hermione. ¡°They¡¯re brilliant for clearing your mind and might even help with Dementors. Harry, they¡¯ll also help you get a handle on your emotions when they¡¯re running wild.¡± I then explained a bit about mental magic and Legilimency. Hermione copied the pamphlets using a duplication charm and taught us the spell while she was at it.


    She dove into the material with her usual enthusiasm. Harry, on the other hand, struggled through a couple of exercises, fell asleep during one, and declared it all too much work. He was a good bloke, but let¡¯s be honest¡ªhe only liked things that came to him easily. Hermione, though? She¡¯d keep at it until she cracked it.


    Three days before summer break ended, Hermione dragged us to the pet shop.


    ¡°I¡¯ve saved ten Galleons,¡± she announced, ¡°and I¡¯m going to buy myself an owl for my birthday.¡± It made sense¡ªbeing as independent as she was, she hated borrowing Hedwig from Harry whenever she needed to send something.


    At some point, I casually mentioned I knew about her Time-Turner. She admitted that, after our Ministry tour, she¡¯d written to McGonagall saying she¡¯d decided against using it. She¡¯d also decided to drop Divination. Honestly, Hermione was ridiculously ambitious, always aiming to outdo herself. But after trying (and failing) to interpret tea leaves in our cups, she¡¯d declared Divination nothing but a sham for bored old spinsters. Said it¡¯d never be useful in real life.


    Dropping the subject left her with a more flexible schedule, though McGonagall hadn¡¯t been thrilled about her ¡°flighty¡± student, and Hermione was still a bit stressed over it.


    In the pet shop, Hermione spent ages inspecting potential owls and even settled on a small grey tawny owl¡ªuntil, completely out of the blue, she walked out with a cat.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t leave him there,¡± she explained sheepishly, though her grin said otherwise. ¡°The shopkeeper said Crookshanks has been here his whole life. No one ever wanted him, but he¡¯s so clever, aren¡¯t you, Crooksy?¡± she cooed, scratching his ginger fur as we carried his carrier and some food. ¡°You don¡¯t mind me leaving him with you for now, do you?¡± she added as she settled him into a chair. ¡°I need to introduce him to my other cat¡ªor he¡¯ll eat him.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The cat was hideous, no point denying it. Looked like a Persian, only the size of a small dog. Definitely not all Kneazle, though he had the build. Still, I liked him¡ªespecially since, when Hermione wasn¡¯t around, he always came to me. He¡¯d jump on my lap, purr like a ruddy tractor, and occasionally knead my legs with his claws. Those things were massive. I had to keep a blanket handy, or my trousers would¡¯ve been shredded. Harry thought the whole thing was hilarious¡ªginger Ron and his ginger cat. Comedy gold, apparently.


    As for me, I didn¡¯t get anything at the pet shop. I didn¡¯t need an owl, and my rat¡¯s cage was already enchanted by Charlie in Romania. No way Wormtail could escape, and no way Crookshanks¡ªor Black¡ªcould snatch him. As for the owl Hermione had wanted, Harry and I chipped in five Galleons each to buy it for her birthday. We even arranged for it to be delivered to her right on the day. A nice surprise.


    The day before the holidays ended, Hermione arrived at the inn, and so did my family. Mum and Dad looked fantastic¡ªtan and glowing. The twins were mercilessly teasing Percy, who kept pretending to be too mature for their antics.


    Ginny, meanwhile, was practically glued to my side. Her excitement and obvious affection were, well, really nice. Her and Percy gave both me and Harry Sneakoscopes as a gift. She also gifted me a silver bracelet to hang my dragon fang and claw pendants I got as souvenirs from Romania. In return, I gave her some fancy hairpins and another diary. She¡¯s a sweetheart, really. In a few years, I¡¯ll probably have to start fending off suitors with my broomstick.


    Mum was her usual self, fussing over how much taller I¡¯d grown and piling food onto Harry¡¯s plate while ordering patty cakes and treacle tart from the kitchen. She¡¯d even brush my shoulder as she passed, quietly tearing up when she thought I wasn¡¯t looking.


    Dad gave me a bit of a scolding for moving into the Leaky Cauldron without telling them, but he didn¡¯t push too hard. He knew the Minister had planned to bring us there anyway. Still, he seemed tense, though he tried to hide it.


    Later, Harry overheard Mum and Dad talking.


    ¡°They think Black¡¯s gone mad and wants me dead,¡± he told me quietly. ¡°Do you reckon it¡¯s true?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet,¡± I replied. ¡°But they¡¯re not wrong. You¡¯ll be safe at school¡ªDumbledore¡¯s there. Though I doubt they¡¯ll let you visit Hogsmeade. Honestly, I¡¯m more worried about the Dementors. They really mess with your head. Even without Black, this year¡¯s going to be rough.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t tell him the truth about Black yet. If he knew about Wormtail, he¡¯d go looking for Black and ruin everything. Harry¡¯s too soft-hearted and impulsive. He¡¯d never let me deal with Wormtail properly, and that rat needed to be gone before he could run back to his master. Better to keep quiet¡ªfor now.


    <hr>


    The next morning was the usual chaos. We quietly ordered sandwiches from Tom for the journey, filled a thermos with tea, grabbed some butterbeer and juice, and headed for the station.


    We got to the station via Floo powder. I¡¯d read in the books that they took cars to the platform, but apparently not this time. Instead, someone enlarged the fireplace with a spell, and we all went through at once.


    We couldn¡¯t find an empty compartment, just like in the books, so we ended up settling with Lupin. He was out cold, like he¡¯d taken a sleeping draught. I didn¡¯t like him from the get-go. No clue why¡ªjust a gut feeling. Maybe it was how overly shabby he looked. Compared to him, I could¡¯ve passed for Malfoy in a fashion show. And that suitcase of his, tied up with knotted string¡­


    Sure, wizards aren¡¯t all-powerful, but it¡¯s not hard to fix up magical clothes unless they¡¯re falling apart completely. And even then, you could conjure a rope instead of tying it up with actual string. It reminded me of the time Mum handed me a scruffy old robe, though even then she¡¯d at least tried to patch it up first. Yeah, we wear hand-me-downs, but they¡¯re never falling to bits. Except for trousers, I outgrow them so fast they¡¯re always a bit short, even when I buy them new from Muggles. Anyway, Lupin seemed dodgy.


    Hermione¡¯s cat didn¡¯t trust him either. Maybe it was because he¡¯s a werewolf, or maybe the cat just didn¡¯t like him. Crookshanks plopped himself onto my lap and stared at Lupin with those unblinking yellow eyes. Hermione didn¡¯t mind¡ªCrookshanks was far too heavy for her lap, anyway. She sat beside me, chatting while scratching his ears. All I could think about was how, if Lupin woke up and Crookshanks pounced, my new trousers would end up in tatters, and I¡¯d spend the evening in the hospital wing getting claw marks patched up.


    Crookshanks kept an eye on Scabbers too, who, to be fair, looked even more mangy and thin than usual. I figured the cat must¡¯ve sensed he was an Animagus. But with the magical wards on the cage, there was no way he could get to him. I wasn¡¯t giving Scabbers any more of that rat tonic, either¡ªjust a calming draught. No point in torturing the poor thing; at least this way, he¡¯d stay quiet.


    We didn¡¯t talk about anything important, not with Lupin there. Mostly just debated where we¡¯d go on Hogsmeade weekends.


    The snack trolley came by at one point, and Hermione wanted to wake Lupin, but he stayed committed to his role as Sleeping Beauty.


    A couple of hours later, we got some unwelcome visitors.


    ¡°Well, look who it is,¡± Malfoy drawled lazily, stepping into the compartment. ¡°The rejects of magical society. A half-blood, a blood-traitor, and a Muggle-born upstart.¡± Crabbe and Goyle chuckled like clockwork behind him. ¡°I heard your dad finally stumbled across some gold for once,¡± Malfoy continued, smirking at me. ¡°What, did your mum die of joy?¡±


    Strangely, he didn¡¯t make me angry the way he usually did. Maybe it was the way Dad had talked about him¡ªit left me feeling more annoyed than anything. Not enough to knock his teeth in, but enough to give him a proper verbal slap. And the git must¡¯ve picked up on it because he hesitated.


    ¡°Well, heir of Malfoy,¡± I said smoothly, matching his tone and grinning in a way that wasn¡¯t quite friendly. ¡°What joy is there in a handful of Galleons for a poor, overburdened family? Us Weasleys, we couldn¡¯t possibly die in peace without raising a ceremonial toast to the demise of the Malfoy line, could we?¡±


    Malfoy stepped back, going pale for a second, but then his expression twisted back into a sneer.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of this hovel,¡± he muttered, turning on his heel and strolling off. His cronies followed, casting confused glances over their shoulders as the door slammed shut behind them.


    ¡°What was that, Ron?¡± Hermione asked, her voice full of concern as she met my gaze.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I replied with a smile. ¡°Just the usual spat with the Prince of Slytherin. Don¡¯t worry about it, Hermione. What time is it? Should I head to Percy yet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± she said, though she still looked uneasy. ¡°Maybe we should have some tea first.¡±


    She busied herself setting the table. I wasn¡¯t really thirsty, but I drank to ease her nerves. Oddly enough, it helped. Maybe the Dementors really were nearby.


    ¡°You both understand, right?¡± I asked before leaving. They nodded in unison, and I headed off to find Percy.


    I tracked him down in the prefects¡¯ compartment. The windows outside had darkened, and my unease was only growing.


    ¡°What¡¯s up, Ron?¡± Percy asked nervously. He must¡¯ve felt it too¡ªor maybe I just looked as off as I felt. ¡°Something happened?¡±


    ¡°Got something to tell you,¡± I said tersely, sitting across from him. He watched me with worried eyes, and for a moment, I thought how lonely he must be, even in our family. Apart from Mum, no one seemed to care about his successes. We sat in silence for a bit before I stood to leave.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± he asked, grabbing my arm. ¡°What did you want?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± I said casually, pretending to hesitate. ¡°Probably just me being stupid¡­¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he insisted, pulling me back into my seat.


    ¡°Well,¡± I began, ¡°Harry overheard Mum and Dad yesterday. They were talking about how Black escaped Azkaban and how Dementors are going to guard the school. I read somewhere that those things love feeding on happy thoughts, and I couldn¡¯t stop wondering¡ªwhat if they decide to attack the train? Sure, they probably wouldn¡¯t actually suck the soul out of anyone, but they could still scare the first-years senseless. I¡¯m heading to Ginny and Luna¡¯s compartment now. Harry and Hermione are staying behind¡ªwe¡¯ve been practicing the Patronus charm all summer with Charlie. But what about the others? Honestly, I don¡¯t know much about Dementors at all. We started learning the Patronus charm as a way to send messages and only found out later it works against Dementors too.¡±


    Percy considered my words seriously, much to my surprise.


    ¡°I think we should seal the compartments with charms,¡± he suggested, practically echoing my own thoughts. I¡¯d been about to suggest it myself but hadn¡¯t figured out how to bring it up. ¡°Dementors can¡¯t get through physical barriers, so the students will be safe. I¡¯ll handle it. Nothing will happen to anyone in the next half hour before we arrive.¡±


    ¡°And you just trust me, just like that?¡± I asked, surprised.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Percy replied with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re a natural strategist, Ron. You beat McGonagall at chess and helped save Harry and Hermione. Besides, better safe than sorry.¡±


    ¡°Right, then,¡± I said quickly, opening the door. The feeling of being watched made me shiver. ¡°I¡¯m off to Ginny.¡±


    ¡°Percy,¡± I called as he followed me, ¡°can you cast a Patronus?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°They teach it in sixth year, but it¡¯s not on the exams since not everyone can manage a corporeal form. Most of the time, it¡¯s just a shapeless mist, but even that works as protection.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s yours, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    ¡°A raccoon,¡± he said with a small grin. ¡°But don¡¯t tell the twins, or I¡¯ll never hear the end of it.¡±


    He started systematically checking each compartment with first to third years, informing them that the doors would be sealed until we arrived. He then cast some unfamiliar spell, leaving the doors covered in what looked like a glowing, translucent film.


    I found the compartment with Luna, Ginny, and their little summer fan club. I¡¯d asked Ginny earlier to sit with Luna so I wouldn¡¯t have to run around gathering everyone up later.


    ¡°Ladies, got any tea for a weary traveler?¡± I joked as I locked the door behind me and plopped down beside Luna. I couldn¡¯t put into words how much I¡¯d missed her¡ªit had been so long since I¡¯d seen her. She seemed just as pleased, setting aside her magazine and leaning lightly against me. Her magic brushed against mine, quiet and comforting. We didn¡¯t talk much, though¡ªit felt awkward with the others there, so we left proper catching up for later.


    They fed me and filled me in on their summer gossip. The mugs from the shop were selling like hotcakes, though mostly with generic inscriptions like ¡°To Mum with Love¡±. I listened, nodded along, but the unease in my chest only grew. My hand tightened nervously around my wand, though I tried not to let it show.


    Then, without warning, the lights went out. The train jerked violently a few times before coming to a halt, and frost crept across the windows. The girls grabbed onto me in the darkness, jumping to their feet. No one had time to truly panic, though. The train gave another jolt, there was a loud commotion in the corridor, and a dazzling light shone through the gap under the door. A moment later, the lights flickered back on, and the train resumed its journey as if nothing had happened.


    Five minutes of frantic chatter later¡ªWhat just happened?!¡ªthe door slid open to reveal a very satisfied-looking Percy.


    ¡°I¡¯d recommend getting changed,¡± he said officiously. ¡°We¡¯ll be arriving in ten minutes. Oh, and take these¡ªyou need to eat them now.¡± He handed each of us a small piece of chocolate, even me. That meant Hermione must¡¯ve already slipped him the little bag we¡¯d prepared. Good girl. Everything had gone exactly to plan.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll head back to my compartment,¡± I said with a relieved smile. I threw Luna a warm glance before stepping out and shutting the door behind me.

 Chapter 45

    When I returned, Lupin was gone, but the compartment was packed with Harry, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Their loud, animated chatter echoed down the corridor, and I could hear them before I even got close.


    The moment I slid the door open, their voices cut off¡ªthey must¡¯ve thought Lupin was back. Then, realising it was me, they yanked me inside, plonked me on the edge of the bench, and resumed their noisy retelling, all speaking over one another. It was cramped, chaotic, and deafening.


    ¡°The lights went out,¡± Seamus began, his tone full of drama.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Dean chimed in eagerly, ¡°and it got freezing, and Neville stomped on my foot!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± Neville stammered, his cheeks flushing.


    ¡°Anyway, they came into our compartment,¡± Harry added, grinning.


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Dean nodded. ¡°We wanted to see what was going on, but it was terrifying wandering the corridors in the dark. And there was something out there¡ªsomething awful¡­¡±


    ¡°So we ducked into the first compartment we found¡­¡±


    ¡°And then something came up to the door¡­¡±


    ¡°I nearly wet myself, mate!¡±


    ¡°Same here, honestly!¡±


    ¡°And that bloke, the one who was here, lit up his wand¡­¡±


    ¡°The door opened, and there it was¡­¡±


    ¡°A monster, I swear!¡±


    ¡°It was like Death itself had come for us¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it was like everything inside me froze over¡­¡±


    ¡°Exactly! Me too¡­¡±


    ¡°It tried to get in, but Hermione did something, and it felt a bit better¡­¡±


    ¡°Then Harry said something, and this stag showed up¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, this massive, brilliant stag¡­ Harry, you¡¯ve got to teach us!¡±


    ¡°I want one too!¡±


    ¡°It charged at the monster, and it just vanished! And then a massive glowing raccoon ran down the corridor. But when we ran out to look, it was gone.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was just sitting with my sister and didn¡¯t see a thing,¡± I admitted, which earned a round of laughter from Harry.


    The story was repeated endlessly, each version growing more exaggerated until Hermione finally returned.


    ¡°Hermione, where on earth have you been?¡± I asked, pouncing on her the moment she stepped in.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been with Percy, handing out chocolate,¡± she replied, practically glowing with excitement. ¡°Oh, Ron, it was amazing¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, the door opened again. Lupin stepped in, paused at the sight of the packed compartment, and hesitated at the threshold.


    ¡°You should head back to your compartments and get changed,¡± he said with a kind smile. ¡°We¡¯ll be arriving soon. Here¡ªtake this.¡± He handed Neville a large chocolate bar. ¡°Share it with everyone.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Neville mumbled, blushing furiously. ¡°But Hermione already gave us some.¡±


    ¡°Did she now?¡± Lupin raised an eyebrow in surprise and stepped aside to let the others file out. ¡°Well, all right then.¡±


    He moved further into the compartment, set the chocolate bar on the table, and said, ¡°I suppose a little extra chocolate never hurts. Take it¡ªbetter to have more than less.¡± His gaze swept over us, warm and approving. ¡°You¡¯ve all done well. And you, Harry¡ªa Patronus at your age? That¡¯s remarkable.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing special,¡± Harry muttered, though he couldn¡¯t hide the pleased look on his face. ¡°Ron and Hermione can do it too.¡±


    Lupin¡¯s eyes widened in astonishment as he turned to us, clearly intrigued.


    ¡°Well then¡­ impressive. I¡¯ll leave you to it¡ªdon¡¯t forget to change,¡± he said before stepping out.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve lucked out with this Defence teacher,¡± Hermione said, shrugging on her robe.


    ¡°Yeah, seems like the most normal one we¡¯ve had,¡± Harry agreed, pulling on his own robes and slumping back into his seat. ¡°Shame he won¡¯t last past the year.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Hermione gave him a sharp look.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Hermione. The curse on the job hasn¡¯t gone anywhere,¡± Harry shot back with a smirk.


    ¡°You lot were brilliant,¡± I said interrupting, settling next to Hermione and gently pushing her cat off my lap. The furball stubbornly climbed back up until I relented. ¡°Everything went like clockwork.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Harry was great, but I¡­¡± Hermione trailed off, looking thoroughly dejected. ¡°I couldn¡¯t cast a full Patronus. I was so scared it just came out as a wisp¡ªand not even a strong one.¡±


    ¡°But it helped me get mine out,¡± Harry interjected. ¡°The moment you cast it, I felt better, and that¡¯s when my stag appeared.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Hermione brightened visibly.


    ¡°Absolutely! You saw how frozen we all were,¡± Harry said emphatically.


    She blushed slightly and changed the subject. ¡°Ron, your brother is amazing,¡± she said, turning to me. ¡°His Patronus cleared out Dementors in two other carriages. A raccoon¡ªcan you believe it? So adorable. Then we handed out chocolate to everyone. It felt so good to be helpful and know what to do. I think¡­ I think I want to become a Healer. Well, maybe. There¡¯s so much to learn in magic, and I want to try everything!¡± She was talking a mile a minute, her excitement spilling over. But I could tell she was still shaken¡ªkeeping busy was probably her way of holding it together after the Dementors.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be brilliant at anything you choose, Hermione,¡± I said softly, slinging an arm around her shoulders and giving her a light squeeze. ¡°With your brains and determination? Piece of cake.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Ron,¡± she said, her eyes shining with gratitude.


    By the time we got off the train, whispers had already spread. The tale of the Dementors being driven off the train had taken on a life of its own. Not that I should¡¯ve been surprised¡ªDean and Neville couldn¡¯t keep a secret to save their lives. Percy was nowhere to be seen¡ªprobably already reporting to Dumbledore¡ªand Harry was left to fend off the stares of admiration and curiosity, even from the older students.


    Before the feast began, Dumbledore introduced two new professors. The hall broke into applause, and students immediately started whispering among themselves, speculating about the new arrivals. Snape, for his part, shot Lupin a look of pure disgust, though with all the excitement, I doubt anyone else noticed.


    Dumbledore¡¯s tone grew serious as he launched into a speech about security measures and Dementors. Percy was practically glowing, beaming like a shiny new Galleon, especially when Dumbledore singled him out for praise and asked him to step forward. Now the school had two heroes¡ªhere¡¯s hoping Hogwarts could survive the pair of them.


    Back in the dormitory, Harry gave another demonstration of his Patronus for our lot after endless pestering. The lads wouldn¡¯t let up until he promised to teach them how to cast one.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    We shared sweets, swapped summer stories, and exchanged gifts. No dragons this year¡ªunfortunately¡ªbut Harry and I had brought back fangs and claws on chains as keepsakes. The boys loved them. In return, we got lucky charms. Seamus handed over a "chicken god" (1) charm, saying it warded off nightmares. We hung it on the headboards of our beds.


    Neville, blushing furiously, gave each of us a dried sprig with colourful berries. He called it something unpronounceable and said it was a magical plant that repelled evil spirits. That went on the headboards too¡ªcouldn¡¯t hurt, especially with Dementors lurking about.


    Seamus had nicked a two-litre keg of ale from home, so we saw to that and then crashed for the night.


    At breakfast, Harry¡¯s new-found fame caught up with him. The chatter quieted when he walked in, and even Malfoy turned up his nose dramatically. As we made our way to the Gryffindor table, a tall, grumpy-looking seventh-year girl stepped in front of us.


    ¡°Potter,¡± she said firmly, ignoring the rest of us. ¡°Is it true you can cast a Patronus?¡±


    ¡°So what if I can?¡± Harry shot back, frowning. We¡¯d stayed up late, and he was in no mood for this.


    ¡°Show me,¡± she demanded. Harry looked like he was about to argue, but I noticed how many people were watching. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.


    ¡°Oh, just show her, Harry,¡± I sighed, before he could start a row. ¡°Might as well get it over with, or they¡¯ll be at you all day. And can we eat already?¡±


    Harry, seeing us settle down with our breakfast, raised his wand. A silvery stag leapt from the tip, bounding around the hall to admiring gasps before vanishing.


    ¡°That enough for you, or do you need more proof?¡± Harry grumbled, clearly irritated.


    ¡°Brilliant!¡± the girl said, her scowl melting into a grin. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect that from a kid.¡± She turned and sauntered back to the Hufflepuff table, leaving Harry muttering under his breath.


    Not much else happened after that, though Hagrid did stop by, holding a dead ferret. He looked a bit dazed and confided that he¡¯d always dreamed of teaching but was nervous about messing it up. Of course, we encouraged him, though we all breathed easier once he left. Swinging a dead ferret near our breakfast wasn¡¯t exactly appetising.


    After breakfast, the others went off to Divination while Hermione and I headed to Muggle Studies. It was fascinating hearing about Muggles from a wizard¡¯s perspective. There were only five of us in the class, and Professor Charity Burbage, a pleasant but tired-looking blonde in her forties, led the lesson.


    She explained how wizards use spells to preserve the Statute of Secrecy. To my surprise, spells like Confundus, Obliviate, and Muggle-Repelling Charms were all fair game, and they¡¯re taught in fifth year. Every student has to pass these specific exams separately to graduate¡ªno exceptions. Wizards don¡¯t have Muggle paperwork, and they rarely venture into the Muggle world, so in emergencies, they simply use these spells. If the wizard messes up and the Ministry¡¯s Obliviator Squad has to step in, the wizard is fined heavily, especially if they work for the Ministry. Even casting Obliviate on another wizard doesn¡¯t get you in trouble; it¡¯s assumed that any wizard worth their wand can protect themselves. If not, well, tough luck.


    Afterward, we joined the others outside the Transfiguration classroom. Harry looked irritated and downcast.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, taking a spot beside him.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he muttered, brushing me off. ¡°Bloody Divination¡­¡±


    Before I could press further, the door opened, and we all filed inside. McGonagall started her lecture, but the class was unusually subdued. Not even her transformation into a cat drew the usual gasps of amazement.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with all of you today?¡± she asked curtly, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. Every head turned towards Harry, and Lavender raised her hand hesitantly.


    ¡°Well, Professor,¡± she began, ¡°we had Divination first period, and¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± McGonagall interrupted with a grimace. ¡°Who got the death prediction this time? You?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lavender said quickly, shaking her head for emphasis. ¡°It was Harry¡­¡±


    McGonagall turned to him, her expression softening, and gave him a reassuring speech that seemed to lift his spirits. The lesson carried on as usual after that.


    At the end of class, Harry stayed behind to ask McGonagall if he could switch from Divination to Muggle Studies. Unfortunately, she explained he¡¯d need to stick with Divination until year-end exams. He could only switch subjects if he passed the other class¡¯s test or had signed up for three electives initially. Frustrated, we told him not to let the old fraud get to him. Privately, I was considering sneaking a laxative into Trelawney¡¯s sherry if she kept winding him up.


    After lunch, we trudged off to Hagrid¡¯s lesson. The weather was perfect¡ªclear and warm, though still a bit damp from the previous day¡¯s rain. The crisp morning frost had given way to sunshine that made the air feel summery. It was the kind of day where you just wanted to flop onto the grass, soak up the sun, and listen to your friends bicker in the background.


    Hagrid¡¯s lesson didn¡¯t get off to a great start. He led us to a large paddock and, amid Malfoy¡¯s snide remarks, tried to explain the day¡¯s topic. Poor bloke was so flustered he kept losing his train of thought.


    Eventually, he gave up, muttered something under his breath, and disappeared into the forest, leaving the Slytherins plenty of time to sharpen their wit. Naturally, our lot couldn¡¯t let their jabs slide, and things were about to get physical when Hagrid returned, leading a group of creatures that made everyone freeze in their tracks.


    The hippogriffs burst into view, held back only by the chains in Hagrid¡¯s hands. Whatever squabbles we¡¯d had evaporated as we all instinctively stepped away from the paddock, eyeing the creatures warily.


    For ten minutes, Hagrid gushed about how ¡°lovely¡± these creatures were. Then, for another twenty, he tried to coax someone into stepping into the paddock to ¡°get up close and personal.¡±


    ¡°Well? Any volunteers?¡± Hagrid asked, looking from one pale face to another. ¡°Harry? Ron?¡± His hopeful eyes landed on us, and Harry, to my horror, looked like he might actually say yes.


    ¡°Not a chance, Hagrid,¡± I cut in quickly. ¡°Why don¡¯t you show us how it¡¯s done? You¡¯re the professional, after all. You¡¯ll handle them way better than we could, and, well¡­ we wouldn¡¯t want to mess up and get someone hurt, right?¡±


    Even the Slytherins didn¡¯t have a snarky comeback for that. Everyone stayed silent, clearly unwilling to get anywhere near those unpredictable creatures.


    ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d have a go at riding them,¡± Hagrid admitted, sounding disappointed. The very idea made the entire group flinch in unison.


    ¡°Probably not the best idea,¡± Hermione interjected, pulling out a notebook. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell us more about them instead? We¡¯ll take notes.¡± Her suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement, as everyone hurriedly fished out parchment and quills, giving Hagrid their full, undivided attention.


    Hagrid hesitated but eventually launched into a surprisingly informative lecture about hippogriffs. By the end, we¡¯d all heaved sighs of relief and made a beeline for the castle.


    ¡°He¡¯s off his rocker,¡± Malfoy ranted as he and his cronies passed us. ¡°Bringing those monsters to a lesson. I¡¯m writing to my father¡­¡±


    Hagrid, meanwhile, looked crestfallen. ¡°I just wanted it to be exciting,¡± he muttered. ¡°Thought you¡¯d like it¡­¡±


    ¡°Hagrid, it was a brilliant lecture,¡± Hermione said kindly, handing him a few pages of her meticulously neat notes and a sketch that vaguely resembled a hippogriff. Hagrid¡¯s face lit up.


    ¡°Blimey, is that all from what I said?¡± he asked, sounding genuinely impressed.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Hermione replied, nodding earnestly. ¡°You¡¯re a natural teacher. A real professional. Maybe just stick to creatures we can pet for now?¡±


    ¡°But hippogriffs¡ª¡± Hagrid started, only for me to jump in.


    ¡°No way, Hagrid,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re stunning, sure, but we¡¯re not ready for them. How about unicorns, nifflers, jarveys, pixies, or phoenixes? Something cute and fluffy. You¡¯re strong and brilliant with animals, but for us, your ¡®puppy¡¯ might as well be a cerberus. You wouldn¡¯t want anyone to get hurt, right? Imagine if Malfoy wrote to his dad and the governors got involved. They¡¯d sack you as a professor, and then where would we be?¡±


    ¡°Ron and Hermione are right,¡± Harry added. ¡°No point risking it. Maybe in sixth year, I¡¯d feel ready for something like that.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Hagrid sighed, finally relenting. ¡°Unicorns it is.¡±


    ¡°You nearly derailed the whole lesson, Ron,¡± Harry muttered as we walked back to the castle. ¡°I could¡¯ve handled it. That hippogriff seemed calm enough.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I shot back with a grin. ¡°And what if you slipped off and broke your neck? Hagrid doesn¡¯t even have a wand¡ªwhat would he do? You¡¯d be a pile of bones, and Hagrid¡¯d be sent straight back to Azkaban.¡±


    ¡°Ron¡¯s right,¡± Hermione chimed in. ¡°What if it had hurt someone? Did you see those claws? And there were over a dozen of them in the paddock. Hagrid couldn¡¯t have stopped them all if they¡¯d gone berserk.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Harry grumbled. ¡°But I¡¯d still like to meet one properly someday.¡±


    ¡°Then ask Hagrid for a private session,¡± I teased. ¡°He¡¯d love that.¡±


    Hermione let out a little snort, and we all laughed. Personally, I was just relieved I didn¡¯t have to rescue Malfoy¡ªor a hippogriff¡ªfor once.


    <hr>


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">https://slovene.online/beliefs-of-slavs/what-is-chicken-god/</li>


    </ol>


    ¡°Chicken God¡± ¨C this is how a small stone with a natural hole in it is called in Russia. People believed that it protected poultry and livestock from curses and evil spirits, stimulated their fertility, and kept them within their yard.

 Chapter 46

    On Thursday, Potions was our first lesson of the day.


    To be honest, I didn¡¯t expect anything good from Snape this year. With Dementors hanging about, everyone in the castle was on edge¡ªirritable, short-tempered, and prone to snapping over the smallest things. Arguments that might¡¯ve blown over in minutes were now ending in full-blown brawls. By the end of the first week, half the upperclassmen had already been through the Hospital Wing for scrapes and bruises. And if regular people were this bad, what could you expect from Snape, who didn¡¯t need Dementors to be a total git?


    My gut feeling was spot on. Snape was an absolute nightmare. He deducted points left, right, and centre, nitpicking over the tiniest things. He didn¡¯t resort to personal insults, but he regarded everyone with irritation and threw scathing looks of undisguised disgust at Potter. Poor Neville, though, got the brunt of it. He was sensitive at the best of times, and the tense atmosphere in the classroom had him so rattled he kept making mistakes.


    ¡°Orange, Longbottom!¡± Snape¡¯s voice rang out from behind me as I added rat spleen to my cauldron. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless. Wipe your eyes and look at the board. Two drops of leech juice! One spleen! When will you start paying attention in my class? You¡¯d think we were brewing Alchemical Mastery-level elixirs instead of the simplest potion with four ingredients. Troll for the lesson, Longbottom, unless you start over. And just to motivate you, I¡¯ll test your finished potion on your toad. Perhaps when it dies, you¡¯ll finally learn some responsibility. Take your cauldron to the back and start again. And if I hear a single word from Miss Granger¡ªour resident know-it-all¡ªI¡¯ll dock fifty points from Gryffindor. The clock¡¯s ticking.¡±


    With a flick of his wand, Snape emptied Neville¡¯s cauldron, then swept over to the Slytherin side, robes billowing behind him. Neville, bright red and trembling, dragged his cauldron to the back table, while the Slytherins snickered. I caught a glimpse of Hermione weighing out fresh ingredients and swapping trays with Neville as he passed her. Hopefully, he¡¯d manage not to muck it up this time.


    <hr>


    ¡°Now,¡± Snape said, pacing back to the front, ¡°your potions should have settled by now. Bottle your results and bring them to my desk.¡±


    He made a beeline for Neville, stopping dramatically beside his cauldron to draw everyone¡¯s attention. Neville¡¯s potion had turned blue instead of green¡ªnot great, but at least it wasn¡¯t orange. Still, it didn¡¯t look promising for Trevor.


    ¡°Gather round,¡± Snape sneered. ¡°We¡¯ll test Longbottom¡¯s latest masterpiece on his toad.¡±


    Neville froze, clutching Trevor to his chest like a lifeline. Snape held out a hand, his expression cold and expectant. ¡°Your toad. Now.¡±


    Neville looked ready to burst into tears. The Slytherins were howling with laughter, and even some of the Gryffindors avoided meeting his eyes. No one wanted to step in¡ªnot against Snape.


    I didn¡¯t want to either, to be honest. But then Neville¡¯s panicked gaze locked on me and Harry, pleading silently, and I cracked. I moved faster than Harry¡ªthank Merlin¡ªbefore he could lose his temper and earn himself a month of detentions. He wasn¡¯t handling the Dementors well, and even Malfoy had been steering clear of him for fear of a punch.


    ¡°Excuse me, Professor,¡± I said, stepping forward and silently cursing my sense of duty. I positioned myself between Snape and Neville, subtly nudging the poor bloke back towards our group. ¡°But, with all due respect, Trevor is Neville¡¯s personal property. And as far as I know, there¡¯s nothing in the school rules allowing teachers to damage students¡¯ belongings, even for the sake of a demonstration.¡±


    The Slytherins fell silent, staring at me like I¡¯d just grown another head. Then, slowly, their faces twisted into gleeful smirks, clearly anticipating Snape¡¯s retaliation. Behind me, the Gryffindors rallied, forming a protective wall around Neville. When he reappeared in their midst, Trevor was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°There is, however, a rule allowing me to punish insolent students at my discretion,¡± Snape said icily, his eyes glittering with malice. ¡°It¡¯s a shame corporal punishment has been abolished.¡±


    I braced myself. ¡°Detention with me tonight at eight, Weasley. And every night until next Saturday. Thirty points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class, and another ten from Longbottom for botching his potion. And you, Longbottom, will report to Filch for detention on Saturday. Dismissed.¡±


    With a dramatic swirl of his robes, Snape disappeared into his storeroom. We all exhaled in relief, hurriedly packed up our things, and escaped the classroom under the jeers of the Slytherins.


    By the time we reached the Great Hall, my housemates had rallied around me. Lavender gave me a wink, Kelly thumped me on the back of the head with a grin, and Hermione fussed over my plate, making sure I got the best cuts of meat. Only Neville got on my nerves, endlessly thanking me and whining about Trevor. Honestly, why did he bring that toad to class anyway?


    I didn¡¯t mind the detentions, not really. But outside, the sky was darkening, and the creeping cold from the Dementors was starting to get to me. It was going to be a long week, especially with Defense Against the Dark Arts and that boggart coming up next.


    We filed into the Defense classroom, waiting quietly as Professor Lupin entered. His clothes were just as shabby as the first time we¡¯d met, which only deepened my unease. Looking at him, I couldn¡¯t help seeing a version of myself I hated¡ªthe scruffy, directionless Ron who let life kick him around. Even Snape, for all his faults, commanded respect. But Lupin? I couldn¡¯t bring myself to trust him.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Lupin greeted us warmly. ¡°Put your books away. Today¡¯s lesson is practical. All you¡¯ll need are your wands. Ready? Follow me.¡±


    We marched down the corridor as a group, following Lupin. On the way, he had a run-in with Peeves and sent him packing with hardly any effort. By the time we reached our destination, Lupin had already become a bit of a hero.


    He opened the door to the staff room and ushered us inside. Sitting in one of the chairs was Snape, engrossed in a book. At the sight of him, we froze, while he curled his lip in distaste.


    "Well, I think I''ll take my leave," he drawled, standing. "What follows promises to be most unpleasant."


    He made his way to the door, and I nearly sighed in relief when he paused and turned back.


    "I should warn you, Lupin," he said icily. "Among your students is one Neville Longbottom. I strongly suggest you avoid giving him any task requiring even the most basic competence. His inadequacy puts everyone around him at risk." With a cold smile, Snape swept out, not waiting for a response.


    "Strange," Lupin said thoughtfully, turning to Neville with a kind smile. "I was just about to ask you to help me with a demonstration. I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll do brilliantly."


    Neville turned beet red and gripped his wand tightly. At the far end of the room, a large wardrobe began to tremble, making us all freeze.


    "Oh, don¡¯t worry," Lupin said soothingly. "That¡¯s just a Boggart¡ªa shape-shifting spirit that takes the form of your worst fear."


    That didn¡¯t exactly put anyone at ease. But Lupin carried on, explaining the nature of Boggarts and asking questions as he went. He had a way of making the topic genuinely interesting. Still, I barely listened¡ªI¡¯d read up on Boggarts with Hermione before class. Instead, I found myself wondering what mine would look like.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I mean, I¡¯m not fearless, but I¡¯m not exactly a coward either. Snakes are unpleasant, sure, but after the basilisk? Not so much. Spiders? Only if they¡¯re bigger than me. Mummies and whatever else¡ªmeh.


    Whales, though¡ªthey¡¯ve always given me the creeps. Once, in the Bay of Biscay, this massive one surfaced right next to our little boat, sending water everywhere. Scared the life out of us. But to actually fear one? Not really. Where would I even run into a whale on land?


    Honestly, I kept picturing the alien from Alien. Not because I¡¯m still scared of it, but as a kid, it was the scariest thing I¡¯d ever seen.


    I doubted it¡¯d be Voldemort¡ªI¡¯d never even met him. Dementors, maybe? If I¡¯d experienced them the way Harry did. But I hadn¡¯t¡ªnot properly.


    "Now, Neville," Lupin¡¯s voice interrupted my thoughts, "imagine Professor Snape in your grandmother¡¯s clothes."


    I snorted, earning a round of stares.


    "Something funny, Weasley?" Lupin asked, though he didn¡¯t seem offended.


    "Just the thought of someone being afraid of Professor McGonagall," I said, grinning. "Picture her in men¡¯s boxers, a stretched-out T-shirt, and a pint of beer in hand. And Snape, finding out about the dress¡ªhe¡¯d hex poor Neville into next week. Then there¡¯s Neville¡¯s gran, furious he borrowed her clothes for a bloke¡­"


    Laughter rippled through the room, starting with stifled chuckles before bursting into full-on belly laughs. Even Lupin joined in, while Neville went from pale to crimson.


    "Professor," I said when the laughter died down, "couldn¡¯t we do this one-on-one? You never know what someone¡¯s fear might be. I¡¯m not sure my eyes are ready for some of the sights."


    "Fair point," Lupin said with a chuckle. "Perhaps we¡¯ll wait on Neville. But the rest of you¡ªwe¡¯ll proceed. I¡¯m here if anything goes wrong. Line up, everyone. Remember the spell?"


    "Riddikulus!" we all shouted in unison.


    What followed was chaos¡ªbut the good kind. A mummy morphed into a banshee, then a snake, then a skeletal figure. Kids¡¯ imaginations are wild. No wonder Freud had a field day with stuff like this.


    Finally, it was my turn. I shook off my grin and focused, picturing the skeleton turning into the alien from Alien. I could already see the laughs when I slapped it with Christmas lights and skates. But things didn¡¯t go as planned.


    The skeleton vanished in a swirl of grey mist. Then, sharply, the figure of my mum appeared¡ªcollapsing sideways, her lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, a thin trickle of blood running down her chin.


    I froze. My brain knew it wasn¡¯t real, but my body didn¡¯t get the memo.


    The vision held for a moment, then shifted. Fred, broken like he¡¯d fallen from a great height. George, lying in a pool of blood. My dad, his chest ripped open, wearing the kind of naive expression that somehow made it worse. A charred, unrecognizable heap of flesh that I knew was Charlie. Ginny¡ªoh God, Ginny¡ªcovered in blood, her face twisted in a terror I¡¯d never seen on her before.


    The images flickered faster, each one more vivid, more horrifying. I didn¡¯t need to see the details¡ªmy mind filled in the gaps all on its own.


    Then came Luna. She looked like she was sleeping on snow. No visible injuries, no blood¡ªjust her empty, lifeless stare. And the pain hit like a curse, draining me completely.


    "What¡¯s going on here?" Snape¡¯s sharp voice cut through the nightmare.


    The familiar irritation snapped me back to reality. Snape swept past me, heading for the Boggart. Before he could reach it, I let out a low growl, raised my wand, and focused on one thought: I had to protect her. And I felt the Path, clearer than ever before.


    And I felt the magic surge through me, raw and unrelenting.


    Snape¡¯s voice cut through the haze. ¡°What the devil is going on here?¡± He jerked back, startled, as the girl¡¯s body he had been about to check for a pulse shimmered and began to shift.


    From my wand, in response to my will, burst a silver cloud of light. As it neared the Boggart, it shaped itself into a bird¡ªa luminous, graceful thing that hurtled forward and collided with the now amorphous Boggart. Together, they vanished into the wardrobe with a resounding slam. The door quivered, light seeped through the cracks, and then¡­ silence.


    Everyone stood frozen, as though hit with a Full Body-Bind. The silence felt tangible, heavy enough to slice with a knife.


    ¡°Weasley, are you alright?¡± Snape¡¯s voice broke through the fog in my head. He shook my shoulder lightly, and I blinked up at him. He looked... worried. Behind him, the clock showed less than five minutes had passed, though to me it had felt like hours.


    "You didn¡¯t seem in much of a hurry to step in, sir," I croaked, my voice rough as if I¡¯d been yelling at a stadium, lifting a weary gaze to Lupin. Words caught in my throat, choking me, unable to fully express the storm within.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Lupin stammered, his shock apparent as he glanced down at the wand clutched in his hand, as if seeing it for the first time.


    ¡°Come with me, Mr. Weasley,¡± Snape commanded, his grip firm on my shoulder as he steered me toward the exit. The other students parted for us like I carried the plague, their wide eyes fixed on me.


    That¡¯s it, I thought bitterly, catching the horrified looks on their faces. I¡¯m the school¡¯s new pariah. Who¡¯d want to be friends with a paranoid freak seeing blood and guts where none exist?


    Passing Hermione, I caught the mix of fear and pity in her expression. Harry didn¡¯t look much better, and something inside me snapped. Anger bubbled up, sharp and hot.


    ¡°Leave me alone,¡± I snarled, shrugging off Snape¡¯s grip. ¡°All of you, just¡ªleave me the hell alone!¡±


    Ignoring their shouts, I ran, panic driving me through the halls with no clear destination. All I could see were the lifeless faces of Ginny and Luna, replaying over and over in my mind. I had to know they were alright.


    My feet carried me to the Charms classroom. Bursting in, I scanned the room, locking onto Ginny seated on the third tier of the lecture hall.


    ¡°Mr. Weasley,¡± Flitwick began in his measured tone, unfazed by my sudden appearance. ¡°Is there something you need?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I said, my voice distant as I climbed the steps toward Ginny. ¡°I need Ginny. Just for a moment.¡±


    ¡°Ron, what¡¯s going on?¡± she whispered urgently, throwing embarrassed glances at the other students.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said, managing a faint smile as I reached her. ¡°Just¡­ felt like I needed a hug.¡±


    Before she could respond, I pulled her into an embrace, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. For a moment, I buried my face in her hair, hiding the turmoil etched across my features. Then, straightening, I turned to go.


    ¡°Professor, mind if I borrow Luna too?¡± I asked as I noticed Luna calmly packing her things, while Flitwick read a note that had floated in from the side.


    ¡°Not at all, Mr. Weasley,¡± Flitwick replied serenely. ¡°She¡¯s already completed her test. But do see that you both make it to dinner¡ªregular meals are important, especially at your age.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± I replied. Luna joined me without a word, slipping her hand into mine as we left.


    Once outside, I broke into a run, pulling her along. Two flights down, we ducked behind a dusty curtain into a small alcove with a window. It wasn¡¯t exactly hidden, but it would do. I helped Luna up onto the windowsill, laying my robe beneath her, and leaned my forehead against the cool stone frame, clutching her hand like a lifeline.


    ¡°You¡¯re not yourself, Ron,¡± Luna said softly, her fingers threading through my hair. ¡°It seems I¡¯ll need to craft something stronger than my usual charms against Nargles. My amulet hasn¡¯t helped much. Look.¡±


    She freed her hand and tugged the cord around my neck, pulling out her homemade charm. The radishes on it had shriveled, blackened like dried husks. Oddly, the sight didn¡¯t surprise me.


    Luna untied the cord, her gentle fingers brushing against my neck. The steady, deliberate motions soothed the storm inside me.


    ¡°What happened, Ron?¡± she asked, her hands cupping my face and drawing my gaze to hers.


    ¡°We faced a Boggart today,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Ah, I see.¡± She pulled back slightly, her eyes distant. ¡°We had one in the house once¡ªlived in a wardrobe. I always saw my mum. I didn¡¯t tell Dad; if he got rid of it, I wouldn¡¯t be able to see her anymore. What did you see?¡±


    ¡°All of you,¡± I said hoarsely. ¡°Ginny, you¡­ everyone. Dead.¡±


    ¡°Then we fear the same thing,¡± she said, her lips curving into a sad smile. ¡°Losing those we love.¡±


    ¡°No, Luna,¡± I groaned, burying my face in my hands. ¡°I¡¯m terrified I made a mistake¡­ and that your blood will be on my hands.¡±

 Chapter 47

    Luna gently pulled my hands away from my face, her touch firm but soothing. I let out a weary breath and leaned my forehead against her shoulder. She didn¡¯t hesitate, just wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± she said, not asking but demanding. And so I did¡ªrushed, stumbling over my words like a fevered confession, spilling everything about the Boggart¡­


    ¡°¡­That was when I realized¡ªthere¡¯s no excuse anymore,¡± I muttered, words tumbling out in a messy stream. ¡°I could¡¯ve kept quiet, let things run their course, but no¡ªI had to be arrogant enough to think I could handle it. I did something, made a choice. And now, if it all goes wrong, there¡¯s no one else to blame.¡± I swallowed hard, my voice shaking. ¡°All those deaths, flashing by like a twisted kaleidoscope¡­ Dumbledore, Harry, Ginny, Lupin, you, Snape, Hermione¡­ Faces I know, faces I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m terrified I¡¯ll lose control and let it all happen. But I¡¯ve no idea what I¡¯ll do if my plan fails.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re torturing yourself for no reason, Ron,¡± Luna said with that quiet, unwavering certainty of hers, her fingers combing gently through my hair. ¡°There¡¯s always a way to solve a problem¡ªyou just have to find it. And you will, Ron, I know you will. You¡¯re not the kind of person to take on responsibility unless you¡¯re sure you can bear it.


    "You can¡¯t control the storm at sea, but you can steer your ship. And you can bring it to safety, along with everyone who chooses to sail with you. There¡¯s no need to worry about the passengers¡ªyou¡¯re on that ship too, after all. Either you all sink, or you all make it. Maybe not everyone, but those who are meant to. So why blame yourself for deciding to captain your own ship instead of boarding someone else¡¯s? If your companions don¡¯t like the journey, they can always switch to another boat.


    "Don¡¯t let fear of what might be stop you from seeing clearly. It¡¯s blocking your view of the path ahead. Trust me¡ªit will be alright. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a wonder, Luna,¡± I murmured against her hair, a real, tired smile finally breaking through. ¡°You know that?¡±


    ¡°I have my suspicions,¡± she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. ¡°Ron, show me your Patronus?¡±


    Reluctantly, I pulled away. The night outside the window was too dark to make out more than Luna¡¯s faint silhouette. I looked at her, at the way she simply existed in the moment, and it struck me again how lucky I was to have her. My mind, oddly, leapt to Shrek of all things¡ªhow he told Fiona he¡¯d always thought he was rescuing her from the dragon, only to realize it was the other way around.


    Had I thought, back when I pulled Luna out of that freezing puddle, that she¡¯d come to mean this much to me? That she¡¯d do so much for me without even trying?


    The comparison to an ogre made me chuckle, and I realized with surprise that the anxiety had loosened its grip on my chest.


    Raising my wand, I cast the spell. The Patronus burst forth¡ªits silvery form twisting through the air before settling on the windowsill beside Luna. It was a bird.


    ¡°A hawk, I think,¡± I guessed, feeling oddly pleased it wasn¡¯t something ridiculous like a rat or a beetle.


    ¡°No,¡± Luna corrected with quiet confidence. ¡°It¡¯s a falcon. I¡¯m sure of it¡ªI have an album at home, I¡¯ll show you¡­ I wonder what mine will be? You¡¯ll teach me, won¡¯t you, Ron?¡±


    The soft glow of the falcon lit up Luna¡¯s face, catching the pale gleam of her eyes and giving her an almost ethereal look. My Patronus flapped its wings once and then faded, plunging us back into darkness.


    I let out a disappointed sigh before instinctively pulling Luna back into my arms. She nestled against me without hesitation, her cold nose pressing into the crook of my neck.


    ¡°You¡¯re freezing,¡± I said, alarmed, shifting back¡ªbut she wouldn¡¯t let go.


    ¡°Stay like this a little longer,¡± she murmured. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nice.¡±


    We stood there, still and silent, wrapped in the moment.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°Well, well,¡± came a voice from behind me, smooth and cutting. ¡°While the professors are running themselves ragged searching for a runaway, it seems Mr. Weasley is tucked away in an alcove, groping some girl who isn¡¯t exactly burdened with a sense of propriety.¡±


    I jerked back from Luna, spinning on my heel, heart hammering with rage. How dare Snape say that about her¡ª!


    But as the dim light from his wand fell across Luna¡¯s face, something unexpected happened. Snape hesitated. His gaze flicked from her to my furious expression, and, rather than double down, he actually¡­ backtracked?


    ¡°My apologies, Miss Lovegood,¡± he said, his voice still sharp but lacking its usual venom. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it was you. Nevertheless, I suggest you hurry along¡ªdinner begins in seven minutes, and your Head of House will expect you there.¡±


    Luna didn¡¯t react beyond a small nod, but I could tell she¡¯d already moved past the insult. I, however, was still fuming.


    Wordlessly, I helped her down from the windowsill. Whatever warmth the moment had held was gone. If Snape had been sent to track me down, things were bad. Dumbledore was bound to get involved now. Not that I had much right to complain¡ªI had caused quite the scene.


    ¡°See you later, Ron,¡± Luna said breezily, tugging on my tie until I bent down. She kissed my cheek, swift and sure, and left me standing there dumbfounded as she picked up her school bag and strolled toward the exit. ¡°Goodbye, Professor Snape,¡± she added as she passed him, not waiting for a reply.


    For a moment, Snape simply stood there, studying me in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, his face in shadow. Then, without warning, he extinguished his wand, plunging us into total darkness.


    ¡°Come, Weasley,¡± he ordered curtly, turning on his heel and striding off without looking back.


    I followed, expecting to be marched straight to Dumbledore¡¯s office, but as we climbed higher instead of lower, realization dawned.


    We were heading to the Hospital Wing.


    And when we arrived Madam Pomfrey was already waiting for me.


    She wasted no time, casting diagnostic spells with practiced efficiency before pulling a privacy screen around a bed and summoning a set of hospital pajamas.


    ¡°Change into these and get in bed, Weasley,¡± she instructed, waving her wand toward the wardrobe as the garments floated out.


    Snape, meanwhile, stood with arms folded, watching me like I might bolt at any second. The moment I so much as reached for the pajamas, though, he turned on his heel and stepped behind the curtain.


    I wasn¡¯t given any answers. Instead, Madam Pomfrey fed me a meal, forced down a series of potions, and before I could argue, the world went black.


    I woke up early to hushed voices.


    ¡°¡­He¡¯ll be fine,¡± Pomfrey was saying, her voice firm but gentle. ¡°When I got the report, I feared he might tear the place apart¡ªbut by the time Severus found him and brought him in, the magical disturbance was gone.¡±


    ¡°But it was there,¡± Snape¡¯s voice cut in, edged with something that sounded almost like unease. ¡°The boy fed so much fear into that Boggart, it nearly transformed into something beyond a mere specter.¡±


    ¡°But how?¡± Mum¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°My boy¡­¡±


    ¡°Could Ron really be that magically powerful?¡± Dad asked, and I could hear the mix of doubt and barely concealed worry in his tone.


    "Of course not, Arthur," Dumbledore interjected gently. "No wizard, no matter how powerful, can manifest a malevolent spirit into physical form¡ªlet alone a child his age."


    "But I¡¯m telling you," Snape countered sharply, "the girl was solid. I personally checked for a pulse, Albus. And yet your Lupin just stood there like a statue, not even attempting to take control of the situation. I¡¯ve voiced my concerns about his appointment more than once," he added, with a touch of smug satisfaction.


    "You¡¯re mistaken, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly, the faint rustle of fabric suggesting he was settling more comfortably into his chair. "Remus is an excellent teacher. He simply didn¡¯t expect such overwhelming fears from a student and was caught off guard when he saw all of us¡ªincluding himself¡ªlying dead. By then, it was too late. The Boggart had gained too much power, feeding on the collective fear in the room. Lupin, like everyone else, was paralyzed by its influence. It was sheer luck that you returned for your book when you did¡ªwho knows how it might have ended otherwise?


    "Boggarts are far from harmless creatures, which is why we introduce them in third year¡ªbefore children reach an age where their fears become¡­ more dangerous. Conducting the lesson with multiple students also mitigates the risk, as their individual fears dilute the Boggart¡¯s power. But once they all saw themselves dead, their fears aligned into a single overwhelming terror. That¡¯s what strengthened the Boggart enough to ensnare the entire room, feeding on their fear.


    "Fear shared by many is always stronger¡ªit breeds panic, which is precisely what we saw with young Mr. Weasley when he broke free. But what concerns me most is the boy himself. These aren¡¯t the usual fears for someone his age."


    "This is our fault," my father¡¯s voice came next, thick with regret. My mother¡¯s quiet sobs followed.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "When Ron was seven, he had a near-death experience and spent a month in St. Mungo¡¯s recovering. It took him months to fully come back from it. We thought he¡¯d put it behind him¡­"


    "My poor boy," Mum choked out, her voice breaking.


    "It makes sense," Madam Pomfrey interjected with the certainty of someone who had just solved a puzzle. "After going through something like that, he must have developed a deep fear of death¡ªhis own, at first. But as he grew older and became more aware of how fragile life is, he transferred that fear onto others as well. He¡¯s no longer just afraid of dying¡ªhe¡¯s afraid of anyone he loves dying. That¡¯s why his Boggart took such a severe form."


    I nearly choked. What? That¡¯s what they thought?


    "It does seem plausible," Dumbledore mused, the room growing tense with his thoughtful pause. "The Dementors came too close to the castle last night¡ªthey must have intensified those fears, pushing him into panic. What puzzles me, however, is why there was no magical outburst afterward. Severus, you said you felt a strong magical surge. The boy was on the brink of losing control. But you, Poppy, claim he was completely fine when he arrived."


    "He found an anchor," Snape said simply.


    "A what?" Mum asked, still sniffling.


    "She stabilized him," Snape clarified. "His magic settled, and the residual energy dissipated."


    "She?" Mum echoed warily.


    "Miss Lovegood," Snape confirmed. "She was the last vision he saw¡ªher lifeless body. That was when he lost control and conjured a nonverbal Patronus, driven purely by instinct. And I knew he would run to her, to make sure she was alive. I sent Flitwick a note, so he could assess the situation himself. He determined that Weasley posed no danger to her and let them go. She was his anchor. She brought him back to himself."


    "You handled that remarkably well, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with approval, though Snape only scoffed in response. "Keep an eye on Mr. Weasley. He and Remus may have some tension between them after this. We don¡¯t want any further incidents¡ªhis magical instability combined with his sensitivity to the Dementors is a dangerous combination.


    "Speaking of which, how is Remus?" he asked Pomfrey.


    "He¡¯ll be fine," she assured him. "But he should take some calming draughts¡ªhe was shaken more than the boy. Lupin has suffered real losses, seen real death. His fears aren¡¯t imagined, they¡¯re lived. The shock hit him harder than Weasley."


    I frowned at that.


    Lupin, being a werewolf, had likely spent years fearing the day he¡¯d lose control and tear his friends apart. He must have pictured it over and over¡ªwaking up to find their mangled bodies, knowing it was his fault.


    And in a way¡­ I wasn¡¯t so different. I¡¯d stared at those dead faces, feeling responsible. The more bodies I saw, the heavier my guilt became.


    The realization made my stomach churn. I didn¡¯t want to have anything in common with him. I didn¡¯t want to be weak.


    "You can go, Severus," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "I¡¯ll check on the boy later. Poppy, see if he¡¯s awake. Molly, enough tears¡ªlet¡¯s not distress the child further. He¡¯s already been through enough. And Arthur¡ªcongratulations. Your son is a remarkable young wizard. A Patronus at his age¡­ It¡¯s extraordinary.


    "Frankly, the children in his year are shaping up to be exceptionally talented. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if half of them master the Patronus Charm by Christmas." He sighed, the warmth of a smile evident in his tone. "Good evening to you all."


    The voices faded as people began to leave.


    Then, the curtain around my bed rustled, and my mother peeked in.


    I never thought I¡¯d be so relieved to see her.


    "Ronnie, sweetheart, you¡¯re awake?" she fussed, immediately sitting beside me. "Did we wake you? You look so pale¡ªso thin, my poor boy, nothing but eyes now¡ª" She sniffled, smoothing the sheets over my chest with frantic energy. "I brought you something from home¡­ Oh, my love¡­"


    Some things never change.


    <hr>


    They let me go after dinner.


    I figured they did it so I wouldn¡¯t have to walk into the Great Hall under everyone¡¯s stares. Better to face my dorm first¡ªdeal with my classmates in private before the inevitable rumors spread.


    Not gonna lie, I was dreading it. The last thing I wanted was people treating me like some nutter.


    That said¡­ the pile of sweets stacked neatly on my bedside table was encouraging.


    Apparently, Pomfrey had turned visitors away, but the fact that people had come at all gave me hope.


    Turned out, I didn¡¯t need to worry.


    Percy intercepted me halfway up the stairs, out of breath and clearly flustered. He fussed over me like a mother hen, patting me down as if to check I was still in one piece, then pulled me into a firm hug. For the rest of the way up, he bombarded me with well-meaning platitudes about family, friendship, and how "everything would be alright in the end"¡ªthe kind of comforting nonsense he probably picked up from one of Mum¡¯s howlers.


    Then the twins found us just before we reached the Fat Lady¡¯s portrait. They practically tackled me, clapping me on the back and ruffling my hair. Fred cheerfully suggested setting off enchanted fireworks in the girls¡¯ dormitory¡ªcomplete with white mice¡ªjust to lighten the mood.


    But before I could even attempt a response, Ginny appeared in the passageway. Looked like the Fat Lady had tipped off Lady Camille from the common room portraits, and my little sister had come running to meet us.


    The moment she saw me, she threw herself at me, clinging to my neck and sobbing. The lads went uncomfortably silent, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, unsure of what to do with themselves.


    I won¡¯t lie¡ªit all got to me. But I was relieved when Ginny finally started calming down. I could never handle seeing girls cry, let alone my little sister. The twins took charge, suggesting she take a few laps on her broomstick to clear her head. She flat-out refused to step back into the common room looking like a blotchy mess, and honestly, I couldn¡¯t blame her. Percy, looking sheepish, adjusted his glasses and muttered something about prefect duties before scurrying off, and with the Fat Lady sniffling melodramatically behind me, I finally stepped inside.


    To my surprise, the common room wasn¡¯t crowded. Only my year mates had gathered there. Dean and Seamus immediately flanked me, steering me towards a sofa like I was some sort of fragile relic. They didn¡¯t even let me veer off towards Harry and Hermione, who were sitting in armchairs by the far end of the room. But we caught each other¡¯s eyes, exchanging a look that said later.


    The girls immediately started chirping away with reassuring nonsense, stuffing chocolate into my hands, while the lads kept up a steady flow of chatter, trying to keep the mood light. I had not expected this kind of reception. And when I finally registered that it was Lavender warbling away next to me, I was completely thrown.


    "Of course, I was so scared at first," she was saying breathlessly, "but then I thought about it, and honestly, it¡¯s so sweet¡ª"


    "You think it¡¯s sweet that I imagined you with your throat torn open?" I interrupted, utterly baffled.


    "Obviously not, you dolt," she huffed, playfully swatting at my arm. "But the fact that I was in your vision means you care, doesn¡¯t it? I had no idea you were so thoughtful, Ronald." She batted her eyelashes at me and slipped a Chocolate Frog into my hand like some sort of peace offering.


    When the chatter finally died down, everyone just looked at me, clearly expecting an explanation. So, I launched into the same story I¡¯d overheard from Dumbledore and the professors¡ªthe tragic tale of my childhood near-death experience and my deep-seated fear of losing people I cared about. It had satisfied the staff, so I reckoned it would do for my dorm mates as well.


    The girls got misty-eyed, and everyone solemnly swore that the whole thing would never leave the Gryffindor common room. Oddly enough, the incident didn¡¯t cause as much of a stir as I¡¯d feared. If anything, most of the school was still too busy talking about me legging it through the castle with Ginny and Luna, assuming it was just some sort of dramatic teenage rebellion. To my shock, the girls actually liked that idea.


    And, honestly? Everyone had their own stuff going on. I¡¯d worked myself up for nothing.


    Hermione fussed over me more than anyone¡ªshe even offered to check my homework so I could get more rest. Harry, meanwhile, got it in a way no one else could. Ever since he¡¯d learned about the prophecy and started having those eerie mind-link moments with You-Know-Who, he¡¯d been terrified of the same thing. That Voldemort would come back and take everyone he cared about. That he¡¯d see all their deaths in his nightmares first, only to watch them happen for real.


    Time passed, and everything gradually went back to normal. And honestly? I don¡¯t dwell on things. I¡¯d scared myself more than anyone else, that was all.


    <hr>


    Two days later, I got summoned to Dumbledore¡¯s office for what turned out to be a completely pointless chat. He offered his sympathy, advised me not to hold a grudge against Lupin, and rambled on in his usual grandiose way.


    "So that¡¯s why you let me overhear your conversation in the hospital wing?" I asked bluntly. "So I¡¯d understand him better? So I wouldn¡¯t think he was a rubbish teacher?"


    Dumbledore studied me for a moment, then got straight to the point. He expected me to keep my issues with Lupin out of the classroom. No sabotaging lessons. No open hostility.


    "Professor Lupin has suffered many losses, Ron," he said. "He has endured things no one should have to face. Like all of us, he has his weaknesses. But I would ask you, my boy, not to be so harsh as to hold them against him."


    That was that.


    From then on, Lupin and I mutually ignored each other. I turned in my essays on time. He graded them and never called on me in class. Simple.


    When Snape substituted for him, I finally got to redo my Boggart test. This time, I stuck to my original plan¡ªAlien from the Muggle films. Passed with no trouble.


    The detentions, by the way? They were scrapped. Apparently, "severe psychological distress" was punishment enough.


    Neville, for some reason, insisted on doing his test privately with Lupin. What he saw remained a mystery.


    But somehow, word reached Snape that Lupin had planned to put him in a dress in front of the whole class. Considering that it was the only part of the lesson that our lot still found hilarious¡ªsomething they openly cackled about in hallways, often when Snape was conveniently within earshot¡ªit was bound to get back to him eventually.


    Snape did not take it well. Now, when he looked at Lupin, it wasn¡¯t just with his usual sneering disdain¡ªthere was a new glint in his eyes. Something vengeful.


    Ancient Runes turned out to be interesting. It was considered a more "primitive" form of magic, mostly used by craftsmen¡ªenchanting objects, tents, household items, even creating magical portals. But most wizards preferred wandwork¡ªit was quicker, less room for error. Still, runes were reliable. You could trust them to work. Unlike spells, which could misfire if you were distracted or exhausted, runes were steady. Predictable. Hermione and I both took a liking to them.


    Hagrid¡¯s lessons had improved dramatically. We spent two weeks studying unicorns, then moved on to these dog-like creatures¡ªlooked a bit like Jack Russells, but with two tails. Crups, they were called. Absolute chaos. They tore around their enclosure, yapping and chasing each other, and within minutes, half the class wanted one as a pet.


    Nifflers were a hit too.


    Knarles¡ªessentially magical hedgehogs¡ªwere decisively not. Might¡¯ve been the whole "getting yanked out of hibernation" thing, but they were not pleased to see us.


    Still, Hagrid was turning out to be a solid teacher. Probably thanks to Hermione keeping him in check.


    Divination, meanwhile, was driving Harry up the wall. Every lesson, Trelawney would clutch her heart, get all weepy, and dramatically predict his death. It was infuriating.


    I mean, really¡ªwho does that to an orphan?


    Not to mention it was her bloody prophecy that got his parents killed, and now she had the nerve to mess with his head?


    Eventually, Harry snapped. He just stopped going.


    We figured a "Troll" in Divination wasn¡¯t exactly going to ruin his life.


    McGonagall tried talking sense into him. Even dragged him to Dumbledore. But we backed him all the way. Hell, we even got Percy to send a formal petition to the Headmaster, signed by half of Gryffindor.


    In the end? Harry got an exception. He switched to Muggle Studies with us.


    Life went back to normal. And I couldn¡¯t have been happier.

 Chapter 48

    October rolled in, and Wood doubled the number of Quidditch practices in preparation for their first match against Slytherin. The team would come back knackered but buzzing with excitement, convinced they¡¯d wipe the floor with them. Meanwhile, I was just counting down the days until the year was over, so I could finally try out for the team myself. I wasn¡¯t Quidditch-mad like Harry, but I enjoyed it well enough. And come March, I¡¯d be turning fourteen¡ªprime time to start making a name for myself at Hogwarts. Not that I had any illusions of outshining my brothers, but at least I could try and even the score a bit. It wasn¡¯t that important to me, obviously¡­ but still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt my ego.


    At the end of the month, they pinned up the notice for Hogsmeade weekends, and we all handed in our permission slips to McGonagall. Well, almost all of us¡ªHarry got outright banned from leaving the castle.


    By Friday evening, he came storming back into the common room from McGonagall¡¯s office, looking like he was about to bite someone¡¯s head off.


    ¡°She won¡¯t let me go with you,¡± he fumed. ¡°Says it¡¯s too dangerous while Black is still out there. So now I get to sit here like an idiot on my own.¡±


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s got a point, Harry,¡± Hermione said hesitantly. ¡°It is dangerous. The Daily Prophet said just yesterday that Black was spotted in Hogsmeade¡ªnot far from the castle. It¡¯s not worth risking your life over a bag of sweets.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, of course,¡± Harry muttered, scowling. ¡°Much better to rot here alone¡­¡±


    ¡°I can stay with you, if you want?¡± Hermione offered, giving him a guilty look and reaching for his hand.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t bother,¡± Harry snapped, yanking his hand back. ¡°Whatever. I get it. Just¡­ it¡¯s always something, isn¡¯t it? First Quirrell, now Black. When am I actually gonna get to live my own life?¡±


    ¡°Oh, like you don¡¯t know?¡± I scoffed, tossing a stack of magazines onto the table beside him. ¡°Come on, mate, don¡¯t be such a wet blanket. The Dementors¡¯ll catch him soon enough, and then we can all go together. For now, just mark what you want in the catalogues, and I¡¯ll pick it up for you.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Harry grumbled, rifling through the pages.


    The next morning after breakfast, he walked us down to the gates, looking thoroughly miserable.


    Hermione and I spent the day wandering through the shops, stopping for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. It was nice enough, but Hermione stayed tense the whole time, constantly glancing at the castle like she was expecting it to explode. She was clearly worrying about Harry.


    Turns out, she needn¡¯t have bothered.


    He met us back at the entrance to the common room looking way too lively for someone who was supposed to be sulking. Without so much as a hello, he dragged us both into an empty classroom.


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t look like you¡¯ve been moping,¡± I noted as he practically vibrated with excitement.


    ¡°How was it, Harry?¡± Hermione asked, perching on a desk. ¡°Was it awful being stuck here alone?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t have time to be,¡± Harry said, waving her off. He was practically bouncing on his feet.


    ¡°And what exactly did you do?¡± I asked, dropping his purchases onto the desk.


    ¡°Had tea with Lupin. Oh, and I passed my Boggart test.¡±


    ¡°Nice one,¡± Hermione beamed. ¡°It took me three tries. Mine turned into McGonagall telling me I¡¯d failed all my exams and was being expelled¡­¡±


    ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t put her in men¡¯s clothes,¡± Harry snorted, biting off a frog¡¯s leg from his chocolate.


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Hermione huffed. ¡°Professor Lupin said Riddikulus only works on childish fears. For more serious ones¡ªlike mine¡ªthere¡¯s a Vanishing Charm. It¡¯s basically Evanesco. They don¡¯t teach it ¡®til fifth year.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Harry nodded. ¡°Lupin taught me too. It¡¯s just that for kids¡¯ fears, you don¡¯t really need it¡ªRiddikulus does the trick. But for proper nightmares, you can¡¯t just joke them away. The charm disperses them entirely. My Boggart was like yours, Ron. Only Lupin barely stopped himself from hexing it when Voldemort stepped out of the wardrobe, looking just like he did on Quirrell¡¯s head. Smirked at me and said, ¡®I warned you, Harry.¡¯ Then all the dead bodies appeared. Took me three goes to get rid of it. Oh, and Lupin¡¯s Boggart? The moon.¡±


    ¡°Merlin,¡± Hermione whispered, covering her mouth.


    ¡°Nice to know my best mates are off learning new spells without me,¡± I grumbled. ¡°I thought we agreed to share anything new we picked up?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Ron!¡± Hermione said, looking properly guilty. ¡°So much was happening¡ªI completely forgot! I¡¯ll teach you tonight.¡±


    ¡°I only learned a couple of hours ago myself,¡± Harry muttered, finishing his chocolate frog. ¡°Don¡¯t get stroppy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and I nearly forgot¡ªwhile we were talking, Snape showed up,¡± he added, wrinkling his nose. ¡°Brought Lupin some potion and watched him drink the whole thing, every last drop. You should¡¯ve seen Lupin¡¯s face¡ªhe looked like he was swallowing poison. I tried to warn him, told him Snape¡¯s obsessed with Dark Magic, but he didn¡¯t take me seriously.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re still on about Snape trying to kill people? If the man lost a hair every time you accused him of something, he¡¯d be balder than Filch by now.¡±


    Hermione cut in before Harry could argue. ¡°Let¡¯s drop it for now¡ªif we don¡¯t get moving, we¡¯ll miss the feast.¡±


    Honestly, I¡¯d thought this Halloween would be uneventful for once. Scabbers was locked in his cage, Crookshanks seemed to have finally lost interest, even if he did insist on shedding all over my bed. The lads were having a good laugh about my ¡®seasonal molting,¡¯ but I ignored them, or just laughed along. Black had disappeared. People spotted him near Hogwarts every now and then, but he wasn¡¯t making any moves toward the castle.


    Turns out, I was dead wrong.


    After dinner, I met up with Luna and gave her some sweets from Honeydukes. We chatted for a bit before I walked her up to the fifth floor. That¡¯s where the Prefects found us and escorted us to the Great Hall.


    Because, apparently, Sirius Black had attacked the Fat Lady¡¯s portrait.


    Slashed it to pieces when she refused to let him in. She managed to escape, bolting up to the fifth floor and abandoning what was left of her ruined painting.


    As soon as Dumbledore arrived, he ordered all of us back to the Great Hall. Twenty minutes later, the rest of the students were herded in, looking completely bewildered. They split us into boys and girls, conjured up sleeping bags, and told us to settle in for the night¡ªno chance to wash up or even change.


    I¡¯m not exactly the camping type, so I spent ages tossing and turning. The floor was freezing, the sleeping bag was lumpy, and trying to get comfortable was pointless. We weren¡¯t even allowed to whisper about what had just happened¡ªevery time we started, a prefect would appear out of nowhere, hovering like a hawk. So we just exchanged silent glances in the dark while the professors combed through the castle.


    In the morning, we were told there¡¯d be no lessons that day and were sent back to our dorms, strictly forbidden from leaving the castle. Dementors had been pulled in even closer to Hogwarts, and it looked like the professors were searching the grounds. The only thing anyone could talk about was Black and his attack.


    Our common room now had a new guardian portrait¡ªSir Cadogan, sitting proudly atop a grey pony. He reminded me of that miserable knight from that old animated Alice Through the Looking Glass (1) film. Embarrassing to admit, but I still watched cartoons now and then, even as a teenager. Not exactly manly, maybe, but whatever.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    On top of all that, McGonagall called Harry into her office and told him outright that Black was hunting him. He just managed to talk her into letting him keep up with evening Quidditch practice, though now one of the professors had to be present at every session.


    The day before the match, we walked into Defence Against the Dark Arts to find Snape looking more sour than usual. Harry nearly got himself detention for demanding to know where Lupin was. And after class, he actually ran to the Hospital Wing to check that Snape hadn¡¯t poisoned him. Madam Pomfrey didn¡¯t let him in, though. That got me wondering¡ªif Lupin was holed up in the shack, then where was Black hiding these days?


    So, in Snape¡¯s lesson, we found ourselves furiously scribbling down notes on the differences between a werewolf and a regular wolf.


    ¡°I think Professor Snape really hates Professor Lupin,¡± Hermione observed, oddly insightful for once, as we made our way to lunch.


    ¡°No kidding,¡± Harry snorted. ¡°He spent the whole lesson tearing him apart.¡±


    ¡°Oh, drop it about Snape already,¡± I cut in, irritated. ¡°We¡¯ve got bigger problems¡ªhad another dream. It¡¯s gonna pour tomorrow, and the Dementors are going to get really close to the pitch. Harry, you need to use the Patronus the second you feel them. Got it? Don¡¯t wait until they drag out your worst memories, or you¡¯ll be out like a light.¡±


    ¡°Relax, Ron,¡± Harry said, far too casually. ¡°I managed fine on the train, didn¡¯t I? I¡¯ll be alright. Anyway, Lupin told me I overreacted back then¡ªthe Dementors were just doing a Ministry-approved sweep. They weren¡¯t actually trying to attack anyone, just checking compartments for Black. But still¡­ they¡¯re vile things.¡±


    Turned out, my ¡®dream¡¯ was dead on.


    The weather was awful. Heavy storm clouds blanketed the sky, making it feel like twilight in the middle of the day. Rain hammered down in sheets, and the wind was so brutal it nearly knocked people off the stands. You could barely see a thing in the sky. Honestly, why couldn¡¯t they just reschedule?


    At least it didn¡¯t last long. Ten minutes in, Wood called for a time-out. The game resumed soon after.


    About five minutes later, everything dropped¡ªthe temperature, the atmosphere. Something was wrong.


    Then a flash of lightning revealed them¡ªhooded figures floating high above the pitch. And there were loads of them.


    Then, suddenly, the sky exploded with silver light. Harry¡¯s stag galloped across the sky, cutting through the darkness. A moment later, Dumbledore¡¯s phoenix swooped in, circling the stands, sending the Dementors scattering.


    And then¡ªHarry caught the Snitch.


    No one realised it at first. Dumbledore had to use magic to announce the match was over¡ªGryffindor had won. It went down in history¡ªnot just because of the victory, but because Harry Potter had fought off a swarm of Dementors in the middle of the game. At dinner, the Headmaster personally thanked him. Harry looked over the moon, practically glowing with pride. And, miraculously, neither he nor his broom had come to any harm.


    After that, everyone wanted to learn the Patronus Charm. Every day, for an hour, we holed up in an empty classroom, practising.


    Skipping ahead a bit, most of us got the basics down, even if not everyone¡¯s took on a solid form. Some people just managed a protective shield or mist. But Lavender summoned a fluffy cat, Kellah got a panther, Dean had a doberman, and Seamus, of all things, produced a fox. So yeah, I¡¯d call it a success.


    Next Defence lesson, Lupin was back¡ªbut he looked like death warmed up. As for me, after Black¡¯s attack, I liked him even less than before. Harry, on the other hand, started hanging around him more¡ªchatting, venting about Snape, all that.


    Meanwhile, my detention with Snape led to a very interesting conversation.


    "Mr. Weasley, you remember our talk in your first year?" Snape asked as I scrubbed out cauldrons. "Watch over Potter. Make sure he doesn¡¯t leave the castle. And keep him away from Lupin."


    I looked up. "Because he¡¯s a werewolf?"


    Snape tilted his head slightly. "Ah. So, you do know how to put two and two together, Mr. Weasley. A rare trait in your family."


    "Your clues were blatantly obvious, sir," I shot back. "Same ¡®illness¡¯ every full moon, every single month."


    Snape sneered. "And yet, to my great disappointment, not everyone is so observant."


    "I reckon Hermione¡¯s figured it out too," I muttered, moving to the next cauldron, feeling his eyes boring into my back.


    There was a pause before Snape spoke again. "I¡¯d prefer it if, should the worst come to pass, students were at least prepared to defend themselves."


    Then, out of nowhere, he changed the subject.


    "Tell me, Mr. Weasley¡ªwhat do you think of Lupin?"


    I didn¡¯t hesitate. "I can¡¯t stand him, sir," I said, turning to face him. "And not because of his¡­ condition."


    Snape¡¯s eyebrows twitched upward, just slightly.


    "Oh?" he said smoothly. "Then why?"


    "I have my reasons, sir," I replied evenly. "But I''d rather not say. I won¡¯t lie to you, but I¡¯m not telling you the truth either."


    Snape let out a dry chuckle and drummed his fingers against the armrest, his expression unreadable. "Is that so?" He paused for a moment, then said, "You¡¯re dismissed, Weasley. And don¡¯t forget my request."


    "Of course, sir," I agreed easily. For once, we were on the same page.


    Two weeks before the Christmas holidays, the twins handed over the Marauder¡¯s Map to Harry before heading home.


    Bill had promised to stop by the Burrow for Christmas¡ªhe was in England on work business, something about transferring between the Egyptian branch and Gringotts¡¯ main office. Ginny and the twins were going home to celebrate with Mum and Dad, but Percy and I were staying at Hogwarts. Which suited me just fine¡ªI had my own reasons for wanting to keep an eye on Black.


    So there we were, me and Hermione, sitting in The Three Broomsticks, when something yanked on my leg. Nearly screamed, but then I heard Harry¡¯s voice.


    The git had snuck out under his invisibility cloak and was now hiding on the other side of the table, right by the big Christmas tree. Hermione spent the next ten minutes whispering furiously into her mug, scolding him for being so reckless, while I just ordered him a butterbeer and some nuts.


    We sat there chatting in hushed voices, thinking about heading back soon, but the blizzard outside didn¡¯t seem to be letting up. So we waited a bit longer.


    That¡¯s when the door burst open and in stumbled several figures, covered in snow from head to toe.


    McGonagall and Flitwick were among them, followed by Hagrid and none other than Cornelius Fudge. The four of them were deep in conversation, shaking snow from their cloaks as they took a seat¡ªright at the table behind ours. Only the Christmas tree separated us.


    Madam Rosmerta joined them, immediately launching into a complaint about the Dementors. And that¡¯s how we overheard a rather fascinating conversation about Black and poor old Peter.


    What really rattled me, though, was learning that Dumbledore had always known there was a traitor among the Potters¡¯ friends. He had even offered to be their Secret Keeper. That bit left me with an uneasy feeling.


    The walk back to Hogwarts was silent. Tense. Harry looked frozen¡ªnot from the cold, but in that Snape-like way, all blank-faced and unreadable. Swear to Merlin, if Black had appeared in front of him right then, he¡¯d have killed him on the spot. Personally, I¡¯d have preferred it if he was at least yelling about it.


    Dinner was a miserable affair. Harry barely touched his food, just listlessly prodded at his plate. Watching him put me off my appetite too.


    Once we got back to our dorm¡ªcompletely empty now, since most people had gone home for the holidays¡ªHarry finally snapped.


    "I¡¯M GOING TO KILL HIM!" he roared, smashing his fists into his pillow. "I¡¯ll find him and kill him! Black betrayed my parents¡ªhe gave them to Voldemort!"


    "You don¡¯t actually mean that, do you?" Hermione¡¯s voice wobbled as she spoke. She looked like she didn¡¯t know whether to comfort him or start panicking.


    "Why go looking for someone who wants you dead, Harry?" I said calmly. "Just wait. He¡¯ll come to you eventually. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯s guilty."


    Harry looked like he was about to explode, but I kept going. "Think about it¡ªif he really wanted you dead, he could¡¯ve killed Hagrid and taken you all those years ago. Just offed him right there and then. Why take you on a motorbike, just to drop you into the sea, when a Killing Curse would¡¯ve been quicker and easier? And why sit in Azkaban for years, doing nothing, if he could break out this easily? What was he waiting for all this time? Nah, something about this whole thing stinks."


    "You really believe that, Ron?" Hermione asked hesitantly, before Harry could argue.


    "You¡¯re wrong, Ron," Harry cut in anyway, voice tight. "Everyone knows he¡¯s a murderer. You heard what they said."


    I let out a low chuckle. "Oh, yeah? And everyone also knows that you, as a baby, defeated Voldemort. Are we meant to believe that¡¯s the whole truth too? Every witch and wizard in Britain will tell you they know exactly what happened that night¡ªdown to the finest detail. As if there were hundreds of witnesses just standing around. People believe all sorts of nonsense, Harry. If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t be so quick to trust every rumour about Black."


    Harry¡¯s jaw clenched, and he stood stiffly. "But you¡¯re not me, Ron," he said coldly before storming out, slamming the door behind him.


    Later, of course, we made up. Harry apologised for snapping, and he spent the rest of the holidays obsessively watching the map, hoping to find Black. He never did. Eventually, he gave up on it altogether.


    I asked if I could borrow the map, and he agreed.


    Days passed, nothing happened, and soon enough, Harry seemed to forget about Black entirely.


    <hr>


    (1) Alice in the Land in the Other Side of the Mirror (orig. §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §Ó §©§Ñ§Ù§Ö§â§Ü§Ñ§Ý§î§Ö) is the official title of a 1982 Soviet cartoon based on Lewis Caroll¡¯s book.

 Chapter 49

    On Christmas morning, I was jolted awake by an excited, almost giddy Harry.


    "Ron! Ron, wake up!" He shook my shoulder enthusiastically. "Look what I got!"


    I groggily turned over and immediately sat up straight. On his bed, unwrapped and gleaming, lay a brand-new broomstick.


    The Firebolt was a masterpiece¡ªbuilt purely for speed.


    "Harry, if you don¡¯t want them to take it apart twig by twig, tell everyone you bought it yourself," I advised, running a hand over the sleek bristles in genuine admiration.


    "Why?" Harry frowned, still stroking the stirrups like they were the most precious thing in the world.


    "Because it was Sirius Black who sent it to you," I said, throwing up a silencing charm so certain creatures wouldn¡¯t overhear.


    Harry¡¯s face twisted in a mix of disbelief and disappointment. He really didn¡¯t want to give up the broom, but accepting a gift from an alleged mass murderer? That was another thing entirely.


    "How do you know?" he asked cautiously.


    "Same way I always do," I said meaningfully. "My vision was a bit unclear, but I saw you living in his house, getting on like a dream. He definitely didn¡¯t betray your parents. You wouldn¡¯t be living with him if he had."


    Harry hesitated, clearly mulling it over. I was half-expecting him to dig his heels in, but before he could say anything, Hermione burst into the room, probably coming to wake us up.


    "Oh, wow, Harry! Where did you get that broom?" she gasped, flicking her wand to dispel my silencing charm.


    "Erm¡­ bought it," Harry blurted out hastily. "Ordered it from a catalogue¡ªcouldn¡¯t resist. I¡¯ve been drooling over it since the end of summer."


    "But that must have cost a fortune!" Hermione frowned at him disapprovingly. "That¡¯s hardly responsible spending, Harry. You¡¯ve still got years of school ahead of you!"


    "I¡¯ve got plenty of money, Hermione," Harry shot back smoothly. "My parents made sure I was provided for. Yeah, the broom¡¯s expensive, but I spent years at the Dursleys¡¯, wearing Dudley¡¯s hand-me-downs and never getting a single present. Not for Christmas, not for birthdays, nothing."


    Hermione immediately deflated, her cheeks going pink with guilt. "Sorry, Harry," she murmured. "I shouldn¡¯t have stuck my nose in. Of course, you deserve whatever gifts you want. And¡ªthank you again. Both of you. For Stella."


    She was still a bit self-conscious about the birthday present we¡¯d given her, but she¡¯d had no choice but to accept it.


    At breakfast, of course, Harry¡¯s new broom became the hot topic. Thankfully, most students were still away for the holidays, but even McGonagall asked where he¡¯d got it. He fed her the same story he¡¯d given Hermione.


    Hopefully, Dumbledore wouldn¡¯t start poking around, verifying things with Gringotts. Not that he¡¯d technically have the authority to do that. At worst, he¡¯d probably just scold Harry for spending so much.


    The rest of the day was brilliant. We took turns flying the Firebolt until we were completely knackered.


    At dinner, Dumbledore was in rare form. He passed out Christmas crackers to everyone. Snape, after pulling his with extreme reluctance, found himself suddenly wearing a woman¡¯s hat¡ªcomplete with a stuffed vulture on top. He grimaced, yanked it off, and shoved it at Dumbledore, who plopped it onto his own head and wore it for the entire feast like it was part of his usual ensemble.


    Later, Trelawney joined in, exchanged snide remarks with McGonagall, and, in completely expected fashion, predicted that Lupin wouldn¡¯t be staying at Hogwarts much longer.


    And just like that, the holidays were over. The students returned to the castle.


    Wood nearly keeled over in ecstasy when he saw the Firebolt. He was even more thrilled when he found out that Harry had lent his old broom to Angelina¡ªnot permanently, just for flying practice. Alicia got her hands on a brand-new Cleansweep, courtesy of Ginny and her lot, who had pooled their money to buy their first broom. That pretty much made them heroes in Gryffindor¡¯s eyes.


    All in all, life was good¡ªlike a brief moment of peace before the next round of chaos.


    Hagrid¡¯s lessons had become surprisingly fun¡ªthanks to Hermione keeping him in check. He set up massive bonfires in the clearing and let us toss in fire salamanders, which danced through the flames. We spent the lessons warming our hands and chucking in sticks while the salamanders scampered about.


    Lupin, meanwhile, looked worse than ever after his latest disappearance.


    "I wonder what¡¯s wrong with him?" Harry mused as we walked to Hagrid¡¯s class. "He looks awful. Maybe Madam Pomfrey¡¯s treatment isn¡¯t doing much."


    Hermione let out a very pointed snort.


    "What¡¯s that supposed to mean?" Harry shot her an irritated look. "I¡¯m seriously worried about him, Hermione! And you¡¯re sitting there snorting?"


    "Oh, come on, Harry," she huffed, practically radiating smugness.


    "Lupin¡¯s a werewolf," I cut in before they could start properly arguing, and was instantly rewarded with Harry¡¯s look of utter shock and Hermione¡¯s indignant glare.


    "You knew?" she snapped.


    "You thought you were the only one who figured it out?" I smirked.


    "And why didn¡¯t I know?" Harry demanded.


    "You do now," I said, shrugging.


    "So that¡¯s why you don¡¯t like him," Harry said slowly as we made our way back up the castle. "Because he¡¯s a werewolf?"


    "That¡¯s one reason," I replied.


    "Ron, how could you?" Hermione bristled. "Professor Lupin isn¡¯t to blame for being turned! It¡¯s an illness! He¡¯s not a monster! You¡¯re such a bigot! I knew you had an intolerant streak¡ª"


    "Right, well," I cut her off coldly, "you¡¯re entitled to your opinion, Hermione, and I¡¯m entitled to mine. I don¡¯t force mine on you, so don¡¯t force yours on me. Yeah, I think Lupin¡¯s a dark creature, and all your self-righteous lectures aren¡¯t going to change that."


    "You¡ª!" Hermione gasped, beyond outraged.


    "Blimey, Ron," Harry interjected before she could explode. "You could¡¯ve at least said it a bit nicer. Lupin¡¯s a good bloke, you know. He knew my dad. And he¡¯s a brilliant teacher. You don¡¯t have to call him a dark creature like he¡¯s some kind of monster."


    "Harry, do you know what separates a human from an animal?" I asked, ignoring Hermione¡¯s furious expression. When he nodded, I carried on.


    "Animals are controlled by instincts. They don¡¯t have the choice to resist them. Ever seen a cat during mating season? Or dogs that don¡¯t care who they mate with? Packs of strays attacking children or the elderly¡ªjust because they can? Humans have instincts too, but we control them. Whether it¡¯s for moral reasons, religious reasons, or just because the law says so. And the ones who don¡¯t control themselves? Those are the ones we call monsters¡ªmurderers, rapists, serial killers."


    "Why the hell are we talking about this?" Hermione nearly shrieked, her face turning bright red.


    "Once a month, Lupin loses control. Completely. He could tear apart anyone¡ªhis wife, a friend, his own child or someone else''s. He can¡¯t fight his instincts. He becomes a beast. And he knows it. That¡¯s why he¡¯s a dark creature, and there¡¯s no changing that."


    "But it¡¯s not his fault," Hermione shot back heatedly, though with less fire than before.


    "Of course, it¡¯s not," I agreed. "But that doesn¡¯t make him less dangerous, does it? Personally, I think letting a werewolf teach in a school is outright reckless."


    "But¡ª"


    "But what, Hermione?" I snapped. "You think you¡¯re the only one who figured it out? Good for you. But what about everyone else? Why weren¡¯t they given a choice? Or do you reckon the other students don¡¯t deserve to know there¡¯s something dangerous lurking around their kids?"


    "Let¡¯s not fight about this," Harry cut in. "Look, you¡¯re both entitled to your own opinions. I don¡¯t see the problem with Lupin teaching when he can teach, as long as he¡¯s locked up properly on full moons. Hermione¡¯s got a right to her views, just like you do, Ron. You¡¯re just overly cautious and dead responsible. And you, Hermione, well¡­ you¡¯re a bit reckless with your whole ¡®must protect everyone¡¯ mindset. Now, can we please get moving before we freeze to death out here?"


    We didn¡¯t bring the subject up again after that. Well, Hermione tried, but I shut her down straight away¡ªtold her she could believe whatever she wanted, but she wasn¡¯t going to force it on me. After that, she finally backed off.


    February arrived, and the team was training non-stop for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw.


    "You have to catch the Snitch, Harry," Percy pleaded, practically vibrating with anxiety. "I made a bet with Penelope, and I don¡¯t have ten Galleons to spare. I¡¯m counting on you."


    "You must catch that Snitch," Wood echoed dramatically. "I need to leave this school with the Cup, Harry."


    Even though Cho was batting her lashes at him throughout the match, Harry still managed to snag the Snitch¡ªseven minutes in.


    And that same night, all hell broke loose in Gryffindor Tower.


    We woke up to shouts and wailing alarms¡ªthe ones we¡¯d set up around our dorms just in case Black decided to pay us a visit.


    We all scrambled out of bed and rushed downstairs, only to find out that¡ªsurprise, surprise¡ªSirius Black had tried to break in.


    McGonagall turned up soon after. We explained the charms, and she questioned the portrait. Funny how the professors hadn¡¯t thought to set up something similar.


    "Sir Cadogan, did you let anyone into the tower after curfew?" she asked sternly.


    "But of course, dear lady!" the knight declared proudly. "A gentleman!"


    "You let someone in?" McGonagall¡¯s voice shot up. "And the password?!"


    "Why, he told it to me!" Sir Cadogan announced, puffing out his chest.


    Absolute chaos broke out. They locked us in the tower and searched the castle all night, but¡ªonce again¡ªBlack managed to slip through their fingers.


    Lessons were cancelled the next day, and while the others caught up on sleep after breakfast, I pulled Crookshanks aside in the empty common room.


    "Crookshanks, you know Black, don¡¯t you?" I asked slowly, staring straight into the cat¡¯s eyes, hoping he¡¯d pick up on my thoughts if he didn¡¯t fully understand the words. "Tell him to set a time and place¡ªI¡¯ll bring the rat. Take him this feather and parchment." I handed over a small bundle, tied neatly with string.


    To my surprise, the furball actually understood me. He snatched up the package and bolted out of the common room. Now, all I could do was wait.


    Strange thing was, I never saw Black on the Map. I checked it constantly, hoping to catch him and set up a meeting, but nothing. Leaving a note in the Shrieking Shack wasn¡¯t an option¡ªLupin lurked around there too often.


    <hr>


    "Harry, don¡¯t you think we should hand the Map over to the teachers?" Hermione suggested one day. "It¡¯d make tracking down Black so much easier. Not to mention, it shows all the secret passages into the castle! What if the professors don¡¯t know all of them?"


    "I¡¯d really rather not," Harry admitted. "If I give it to them, I¡¯ll never get it back. They¡¯d use it to keep tabs on me. Do you fancy living under constant surveillance?"


    "But Harry! Ron, say something!" Hermione turned to me for support.


    I didn¡¯t back her up.


    "They¡¯ll catch him soon enough, Hermione," Harry said confidently.


    And that was the end of that argument.


    That evening, on his way back from practice, Harry ran into Trelawney. She very dramatically predicted that the Dark Lord¡¯s servant would soon return to his master.


    And here I thought I was actually changing things.


    I needed to move fast before that prophecy came true.


    Harry, of course, laughed it off completely. Hermione rolled her eyes and called Trelawney a fraud. Business as usual.


    Two days later, Black sent me a note via Crookshanks.


    "Meet me on Saturday at three o¡¯clock."


    The scrawled writing was jagged and uneven.


    I had to be creative to sneak away from Hermione in Hogsmeade¡ªfortunately, she got lost in a bookshop.


    Harry was off having tea with Lupin, not too fussed about missing the trip, but just to be safe, I took the Map with me so no one would spot me and Black together.


    Crookshanks led me past the lake, to a hidden cave on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.


    Inside, a massive black dog was waiting.


    The poor thing was so scrawny that any decent animal rights activist would¡¯ve had a full-on meltdown.


    The beast bared its yellowed teeth. The stench coming off it was vile¡ªmade my eyes water.


    "Mister Black?" I asked cautiously.


    The dog transformed¡ªinto a filthy, half-starved man dressed in nothing but tattered rags.


    "Where¡¯s the rat?" he croaked, voice rasping like he hadn¡¯t spoken in years.


    "Not so fast, Mister Black," I said evenly, keeping my wand raised. He might not have betrayed the Potters, but he looked utterly unhinged¡ªhis eyes gleamed with madness, his movements were erratic. "It¡¯s locked in an enchanted cage in my dorm. And I¡¯m the only one who can get it out."


    Black let out a hoarse, bitter chuckle that sounded halfway between laughter and a cough.


    "And what do you want?" he rasped.


    "I want an oath that no one will ever find out about this deal. That you¡¯ll stick to the version of events I tell you. And I want guarantees¡ªI need to know the rat is definitely going to die."


    "Why do you care?" Black asked seriously. He swayed slightly, like he was drunk or couldn''t stay still¡ªlike he was either restless or being eaten alive by fleas.


    "Trelawney made a prophecy," I said flatly. "She said the Dark Lord¡¯s servant would return to his master. And I¡¯d really rather that not happen."


    "Fine, but we¡¯ll need a third for an Unbreakable Vow," Black sneered.


    "Don¡¯t need an Unbreakable Vow," I smirked. "A magical oath will do just fine."


    "Alright," he agreed, pulling up his ragged sleeve and revealing his arm. Nothing there but filth and skin stretched over bone.


    "I swear on the blood in my veins," Black muttered after I¡¯d read out the terms. "May it boil and turn to sand if I ever break our bargain. I won¡¯t betray what¡¯s been said¡ªnot by deed, not by word, not even by thought. Now, enough of this¡ªwhen are you bringing me the rat?"


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "Next Sunday, when I go to Hogsmeade again," I promised. "But you better stay quiet¡ªkeep out of the castle until we lose Hogsmeade privileges or Hogwarts goes on lockdown."


    "Alright," he grumbled. "But tell me, kid¡ªhow¡¯d you figure out about the rat?"


    "Worked it out myself," I shrugged. "We overheard Fudge in the Three Broomsticks¡ªhe said you bolted after reading The Prophet. But there was nothing in that issue about Harry, only about my family. Didn¡¯t seem like anything that¡¯d interest you. Then, when the twins gave Harry the Map, I saw Peter Pettigrew on it¡ªright next to my bed, like we were sitting together. Only thing there at the time was my rat, in his cage. And since you were supposed to have killed him ages ago¡­ well, it all added up. If it wasn¡¯t you, then it had to be Peter."


    "Right. I¡¯ll be waiting," Black muttered.


    <hr>


    The days flew by. Gryffindor smashed Slytherin, and now the House Cup was basically ours. Wood nearly cried from joy. Some scout from Puddlemere United came to watch, and apparently, Wood might be getting into their reserve team. Nothing confirmed yet, but still.


    Sunday morning, I dosed Wormtail with a sleeping potion. Then I hit him with a Stunning Spell¡ªjust to be extra sure.


    To be honest, I almost felt sorry for him. What kind of life had he even had? First, the Marauders bullied him. Then he spent half his life hiding as a rat, shaking with fear. And after he ended up with me, he was stuck in a cage, never seeing the outside world¡ªbasically a prison cell. At least I fed him well. At least he got to visit Egypt¡ªprobably the first and last time he¡¯d ever see anywhere interesting. Would¡¯ve been smarter for him to run away, hide somewhere warm¡ªlive as a man during the day, steal food and gold as a rat at night. Find some abandoned house, settle in. Safe, warm, well-fed. But no¡ªwizards are weird.


    After dinner, I snuck out of the castle with the rat in tow and made my way to the Shrieking Shack through the passage under the Whomping Willow.


    Black was already waiting, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.


    "You got it? Hand it over," he growled, stretching out a trembling hand.


    "Not so fast," I said sharply. "I need to make sure it¡¯s actually a person first."


    "I know it¡¯s him," Black snapped.


    "Well, I don¡¯t," I shot back coldly. "And we haven¡¯t learned the spell to force Animagi back into their human form yet."


    Black gritted his teeth but relented.


    "Fine. Hold out your wand hand."


    Before I knew what was happening, he yanked my arm, twisting my wrist in his iron grip while muttering an incantation.


    The sleeping rat on the table shuddered¡ªand morphed into a scrawny, sickly-looking man. His sagging skin clung to his bones like an old, grey rag. His robes were just as tattered as Black¡¯s, and peeking through a torn sleeve was a faded Dark Mark.


    Black¡¯s grip on my wrist tightened painfully.


    "Convinced?" he rasped, his foul breath hitting my face.


    And just as suddenly, he twisted my wrist again¡ªand Pettigrew was a rat once more.


    "That¡¯s it. He¡¯s mine," Black murmured, licking his lips like a starving wolf, before lunging at the table.


    I thought he¡¯d just use a Killing Curse, maybe throw in a Cruciatus for good measure. I was already worrying about how that might mess with my wand.


    But no.


    Black shifted mid-leap, his gaunt human form twisting into the hulking black dog, and he¡ªhe bit off the rat¡¯s head.


    A sickening crunch filled the air.


    Then, pinning the lifeless body under his paw, he tore off another few chunks and swallowed them whole.


    I watched, frozen in horror, as he slurped up the long, naked tail like a strand of spaghetti.


    I nearly threw up.


    "I¡¯ll tell Harry the truth¡ªthat you didn¡¯t betray his parents, Mr. Black," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "But you need a home if you want him to live with you in the summer. And stop skulking around the castle¡ªyou¡¯ll get caught and executed."


    I didn¡¯t wait for an answer.


    I turned and left.


    I barely made it past the Whomping Willow before I spotted them¡ªHarry and Hermione, sprinting towards me like I¡¯d just come back from the dead. Behind them, charging across the field, was Lupin.


    "Ron!" Hermione gasped. "You¡¯re alive!"


    "Mate, are you alright?" Harry asked, hands gripping my shoulders like he was checking for broken bones.


    "Yeah, I¡¯m fine," I grumbled. "What¡¯s all this about?"


    "We thought¡ª" Hermione started, but then¡ª


    "Where¡¯s Black, Weasley?" Lupin cut in sharply, almost shaking me.


    I blinked up at him, face blank.


    "Black, sir?" I repeated, playing dumb. "Hermione¡¯s cat¡ªCrookshanks¡ªscared my rat when I took him outside for a bit of fresh air. The little sod bolted straight for the Whomping Willow, and I had to chase after him. Ended up in some weird tunnel under the tree, and at the end of it¡ªthere was this room. And inside was this huge black dog, gnawing on my rat. I panicked, hit it with a Stinging Hex, and legged it before it could go for me too¡ªwhat if it was rabid? Anyway, there was nothing I could do for Scabbers. He was old and sick, and¡ªwell, that¡¯s that."


    Lupin didn¡¯t stick around to listen.


    He bolted straight for the passage.


    "What the bloody hell is going on?" I asked, playing dumb.


    Chapter 50


    Hermione and Harry exchanged a quick glance.


    "I got back to the common room and you weren¡¯t there," Harry started. "So I checked the Map."


    Bloody hell. The Map! I mentally kicked myself. I''d completely forgotten about it. This is how big plans fall apart¡ªlittle things slip through the cracks. At least I made it in time...


    "And I saw Black near the Whomping Willow. But you... you were near the gates. And with you was Peter Pettigrew¡ªthe one the Minister was talking about. The one Black was supposed to have killed years ago. That¡¯s when I realized you were right¡ªBlack wasn¡¯t the traitor. Pettigrew must¡¯ve killed all those people. Otherwise, why fake his own death? So we ran to tell the Headmaster, to warn him¡ªto save you and Black. Who knows what a murderer like Pettigrew might do? He could¡¯ve killed you both."


    "But the gargoyle wouldn¡¯t let us in¡ªwe didn¡¯t know the password," Hermione rattled off anxiously. "And we didn¡¯t want to cause a scene, not when Black¡¯s still a wanted criminal. So Harry suggested we go straight to Professor Lupin."


    "And the moment we explained and showed him the Map, he went white as a sheet and bolted¡ªdidn¡¯t say a word to us, just ran," Harry added. "By then, you, Black, and Pettigrew were all showing up on the Map. Black was near the tree, but then he disappeared. And you were heading straight for him¡ªpractically dragging Pettigrew along."


    "But when we caught up with Professor Lupin, Peeves slowed him down," Hermione said, wringing her hands. "Vanished a staircase right out from under him¡ªwell, not really vanished, it was a spell, a very advanced one, I read about it in¡ª"


    "Hermione!"


    "Right. Anyway, we managed to get past it and kept running. He caught up with us later. And¡­ well, that¡¯s it."


    At that moment, a noise echoed from the passage. We stiffened.


    "I think we should check it out," Harry said, determined. Without hesitating, he ducked into the tunnel, and we followed right behind him. As we crept forward, the dim light grew brighter, and the voices became clearer.


    "You¡¯re mad, Padfoot!" Lupin¡¯s voice rang out, sharp as steel. I¡¯d never heard him sound like that before. "How could you eat him? Wormtail was the only one who could clear your name! How are you going to explain yourself now? Who¡¯s going to believe you?"


    "Explain myself?" Black¡¯s laugh was rough and ragged, almost a bark. "Don¡¯t be thick, Moony. Who¡¯s going to listen? Who cares about my side of the story? There¡¯s a hundred Dementors outside just waiting for me to speak up, just so they can pounce on me with their ¡®Kisses.¡¯"


    "But you ate someone, Sirius," Lupin groaned.


    "Someone?! SOMEONE?!" Black¡¯s voice rose to a near-screech, like a dog whose tail had been stepped on. "Where in that pile of filth did you see a someone, Moony? I killed and ate a rat! A rotten, festering, stinking rat! A cowardly, filthy rat! And now he¡¯s exactly what he¡¯s always been¡ªa pile of steaming shit!"


    "Enough, Sirius! That¡¯s disgusting¡­ You¡¯ll regret this. You should have kept him alive¡ªto prove your innocence."


    "Enough?" Black growled, low and dangerous. "What do you know, Moony? I dreamed about this for years, locked up in that cell. The only thing that kept me sane was the thought of finding that traitor, tearing into his throat, ripping him to pieces¡ªLily and James¡­ they were with me the whole time. Watching me. Blaming me. You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like¡ªto feel their cold, accusing stares, to drown in guilt, to slam yourself against the walls just to make it stop. James¡­ Lily¡­ Harry¡­ They wanted justice. And if this is the only thing I ever do in my miserable life¡ªat least I got my revenge. I got it! And now, even if I die¡ªI can die in peace."


    Black sucked in a sharp breath and let out a laugh¡ªwild, broken, cut off with a strangled gasp.


    In the dark, we exchanged looks. Harry gave us a quick nod toward the door.


    "You¡¯ve lost your mind, Sirius," Lupin said, exhausted. And that was the moment we stepped into the room.


    The two men froze, staring at us in shock. Then Black flinched and lunged.


    "Harry¡­ Harry," Black croaked, taking an unsteady step toward him.


    Harry jerked back, grip tightening around his wand. Black stopped short, raising both hands in surrender, like he was admitting defeat.


    "I won¡¯t come any closer, Harry," Black said, flashing a grin that was more feral than friendly, exposing ragged gums and broken, blackened teeth.


    "I¡¯m not scared," Harry shot back, swallowing hard. His body tensed, like he was forcing himself not to back away again.


    I shifted slightly, angling myself more in front of Hermione¡ªwho, judging by her pale face, was one breath away from a full-blown panic attack.


    "Bloody hell¡ªyou look just like James," Black muttered, his voice distant, eyes locked onto Harry like he was seeing a ghost. "Look, Moony, look¡­ Prongs is back with us¡­ life goes on¡­"


    "Erm¡­ Harry," Lupin finally found his voice, his tone gentle, but cautious. "By now, I imagine you¡¯ve figured out¡­ it was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed your parents. Not Sirius. He¡¯s innocent."


    "You sound like mates," Harry said sharply. "Professor, you never mentioned that you and Black were friends. And what does a rat have to do with this? And a dog?"


    "We were friends, Harry," Lupin said softly. "That Map you brought me¡­ we made it. James, Sirius, Peter, and I. And the dog¡­"


    "We¡¯re Animagi, Harry," Black cut in, suddenly animated. "James was a stag. I¡¯m a dog. And Wormtail¡ª"


    "Pettigrew was a rat," Lupin finished quickly, as if hoping we¡¯d forget to turn the conversation back to him.


    "And you the werewolf, Professor?" Hermione blurted out, completely wrecking his plan.


    Lupin flinched but quickly recovered. Not that it mattered¡ªBlack had launched into another manic ramble.


    "Oh, yes," he barked a laugh, pacing the room. "Those were the days¡­ We¡¯d sneak out through the secret tunnels. Unlock Moony¡¯s door. Shift into our animal forms and run wild all night long. It was our secret," he went on, his voice rushed and almost delirious, as if he were completely lost in his memories.


    "Sirius, that''s enough," said Lupin, "We were talking about Peter."


    "Yeah, that rat who betrayed us all," Black growled, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "But don¡¯t worry, Harry, I got justice for your dad¡ªfor all of us..."


    "Just to clarify, Professor Lupin," I cut in, my voice calm but pointed. "So you also thought Black was a traitor up until now?"


    "Yes," Lupin admitted, bowing his head slightly, looking almost relieved by the change in subject. "But when I saw Pettigrew on the Map, I knew Sirius was innocent. The Map never lies."


    "Brilliant," I laughed dryly. "That just makes things even more interesting. Let me get this straight, sir," I continued, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice. "You knew Black was a convicted criminal. You knew he was an Animagus. And yet, you never thought to mention it to the Headmaster? Never thought to tell anyone how he might be sneaking into the school?"


    "Ron, it doesn¡¯t matter anymore," Hermione interrupted, squeezing my hand in what I assumed was meant to be a reassuring gesture. "Mister Black is innocent."


    "Oh, is he?" I scoffed, shaking her off. Was she really that naive, or just playing dumb? "So, your favourite professor spent the entire year watching the teachers turn the castle inside out searching for Black, all while drinking tea with Harry, reminiscing about his parents, and sleeping soundly at night¡ªknowing full well that Black was out there, desperate to get to Harry, and wouldn¡¯t stop until he did."


    "Mr. Weasley," Lupin tried to cut in, his voice strained. "I would appreciate¡ª"


    "See, Hermione," I cut across him sharply, "turns out being a dark creature scum isn¡¯t just about full moons. It¡¯s a whole way of life."


    "Is that true, sir?" Harry asked, his voice quiet, but firm. Black, meanwhile, was glancing between all of us, muttering under his breath like he wasn¡¯t fully in the room.


    "But why?" Harry pressed.


    "Harry¡­" Lupin murmured, looking thoroughly miserable as he averted his gaze.


    "Oh, come on, Harry, it¡¯s obvious," I said flatly. "Dumbledore trusted Lupin¡ªfirst as a student, then as a teacher. And what did we just learn? Back in school, instead of staying safely locked up, he ran wild with his Animagus mates, scaring the hell out of the locals. If he admitted to anyone that he¡¯d kept Black¡¯s secret, he¡¯d have been finished. So what did he do? He waited¡ªwaited for Black to get caught or killed so he could take the truth with him to the grave. Between protecting his own reputation and protecting you, Harry, he chose himself. Lovely, isn¡¯t it?"


    "Harry!" Black suddenly jolted forward, his eyes flickering back to reality. "Harry, I¡¯m your godfather," he rasped, as though that settled everything. "James¡­ James is gone¡­ it¡¯s my fault¡­ but I avenged him," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.


    "Why are you being like this, Ron?" Hermione whispered, shooting a wounded glance at Lupin.


    "By the way, Hermione," I said casually, ignoring her. "It isn¡¯t a full moon tonight, is it?"


    I wanted to humiliate him, grind him into the dirt until he had nothing left to hide behind. He was no better than Pettigrew¡ªboth cowards, both selfish, both willing to let others suffer to save their own skin.


    "Mr. Weasley," Lupin finally found his voice, looking up at me with an icy glare. "You¡ª"


    "Ron!" Hermione¡¯s panicked screech cut through the air as she clutched my arm. "Ron¡ªit is a full moon!"


    "Professor," Harry¡¯s voice was suddenly sharp with urgency. "Did you take your potion tonight?"


    Lupin didn''t answer. At first, he just froze. Then his face drained of colour, red blotches creeping up his neck. His hand shot to his throat.


    For a split second, I thought he was about to transform right there¡ªand if he did, we were dead.


    "Harry," I hissed. "Hermione!"


    Our wands were up before he could make another move. Every spell Snape had ever taught us came flying.


    "Accio, Lupin¡¯s wand!" Harry shouted.


    "Incarcerous!" I cast, and the momentarily stunned Lupin was yanked off his feet, bound in thick ropes.


    "Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione finished the job, her voice shaky. A second later, Lupin crashed face-first onto the dirty floor, completely immobilized.


    "What do we do now?!" Hermione yelped, her hands flying to her face. "We just attacked a professor!"


    "Before he attacked us, Hermione," I shot back. "Harry¡ª"


    "Harry?" Black had finally caught up, stepping forward hesitantly. "What¡¯s going on? What just happened? Why is Moony on the floor?"


    Harry was quick on the uptake.


    "Mr. Black," he rushed, as Hermione¡ªtrembling, but ever the moral one¡ªused magic to flip Lupin onto his back without actually touching him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. People like her¡ªso bloody righteous until the danger¡¯s right in their face. "We need to go¡ªnow. If he transforms, those ropes won¡¯t hold him."


    "Why run?" Black asked, trotting after us as we sprinted toward the exit. "Just seal the tunnel. That¡¯ll do it."


    It was the most sensible thing he¡¯d said all night.


    "Harry, you¡¯ve got the Map, yeah?" I asked, a bad feeling creeping in.


    Harry froze. I crashed into his back.


    "No," he whispered, horrified. "Lupin ran out so fast, we followed without thinking¡ªI left it behind."


    "If Snape comes to bring him the potion, he¡¯ll see us on the Map. And he¡¯ll see Black. The second we step outside, we¡¯re screwed."


    "Mr. Black," Harry spun to him. "Take Professor Lupin¡¯s wand and run."


    "But what about¡ª"


    "Send it back with an owl," Harry cut him off. "He won¡¯t be needing it for a while."


    "Alright," Black agreed, accepting the wand like it was the best gift he¡¯d ever received. "Let¡¯s move."


    We emerged into thick darkness. The clouds parted just enough for the moon to break through.


    Black turned and flicked his wand at the entrance, sealing it with several layers of magic. He did it so quickly, so confidently, that I knew he¡¯d done this before.


    When we had put some distance between us and the tree, Black pointed his wand at the Whomping Willow. With a soft pulse of magic, the great branches sprang to life, thrashing wildly like giant, furious tentacles, ready to strike at anything that came near.


    Snape was nowhere to be seen, and Black had pulled Harry aside, crouching down and murmuring something sentimental. Harry nodded along, a bit awkward, with a small, embarrassed smile. Though, for all I knew, his eyes were watering from the sheer stench of the man.


    Hermione and I kept a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude on their little family reunion. Not that we could properly appreciate the moment¡ªbetween the biting cold and the leftover tension, it wasn¡¯t exactly cosy. Hermione¡¯s hand, which had been gripping onto me like a vice, was trembling and ice-cold. Her gaze was distant, like she was a thousand miles away. I cast a quick Warming Charm on her, but I doubted she even noticed.


    "Harry, if the Dementors get even a whiff of Black, they¡¯ll be all over us in seconds," I cut in, breaking the soppy atmosphere. "Can¡¯t say I¡¯m keen on another run-in with them, and I doubt Mr. Black would be particularly thrilled either."


    "Yeah, Sirius," Harry agreed quickly, snapping back to reality. "You should transform and run for it¡ªhead straight for the edge of Hogwarts grounds and Apparate from there. Come on, we¡¯ll see each other again."


    "Alright, Harry," Black said, nodding, but he still didn¡¯t let go of Harry¡¯s shoulder, like he couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to part yet. And honestly, I got it¡ªafter years locked away in Azkaban, the bloke had probably forgotten what human contact even felt like.


    "Ron, yeah? And Hermione," Black turned his hollow gaze on us, his voice rough but surprisingly sincere. "Thank you. Really. And Harry¡ªI¡¯d like you to come stay with me in the summer."


    He hesitated for just a second before shifting. The moment he landed on all fours, he let out a sharp, excited bark, wagged his tail, and licked Harry¡¯s hands like some overgrown stray. Then, grabbing a wand from the ground between his teeth, he bolted into the darkness, glancing back at us twice before vanishing into the night.


    "Brilliant, that all worked out," Harry chattered brightly as we hurried towards the castle. "I¡¯ve got a godfather! And maybe I won¡¯t have to go back to the Dursleys for the summer!"


    "Let¡¯s pick up the pace," Hermione snapped, ignoring him completely. "Curfew¡¯s soon."


    "Oh, come on, Hermione! We did it!" Harry grinned, reaching out to drape an arm over her shoulders in an excited half-hug. She immediately shrugged him off.


    "I just¡­ I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s going to happen now," she exhaled sharply, rubbing her arms. "We attacked a professor. We helped Sirius Black escape, and it doesn¡¯t matter that he¡¯s innocent¡ªthere¡¯s no proof. Do you realise what that means? We could be expelled."


    "We¡¯ll tell Dumbledore everything," Harry said stubbornly. "They won¡¯t expel us, Hermione. Don¡¯t worry."


    "Let¡¯s talk about it tomorrow," she waved him off, voice tight. "I can¡¯t even think straight right now. I just need to sleep."


    "You were amazing tonight," Harry told her, flashing an encouraging smile.


    "Absolutely," I agreed, grinning. "And, you know, we did work like a well-oiled machine again. Bet even Snape would be impressed¡ªthat was a solid ''Outstanding''."


    Turns out, we still had some time before curfew. Harry even managed to dash up to the dorms to grab his Invisibility Cloak and check Lupin¡¯s office for the Map. No luck, though. Meanwhile, I made a beeline for the showers¡ªafter standing near Black, I felt like I¡¯d been rolling around in a rubbish bin for two days straight. Took me ages to scrub off that feeling.


    And, of course, as soon as I stepped out, freshly dressed, I ran straight into Percy.


    "Ron," he started, peering at me like I¡¯d just escaped from Azkaban myself. "The Headmaster wants to see you."


    "What, now?" I asked, frowning. "Curfew¡¯s in, like, ten minutes."


    "Now," Percy confirmed, lips pressed into a thin line. "Potter and Granger are already there."


    Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.


    "Ron¡­ you haven¡¯t done anything, have you?" he asked hesitantly, watching me closely.


    "What, me?" I smirked, tugging on my jumper. "Come on, Perce, you know I¡¯m an absolute angel."


    "Do you want me to walk you there?" he offered, frowning.


    "I¡¯ll manage," I said, waving him off as I started towards the exit.


    "Alright¡­ good luck, then," he called after me. "The password¡¯s ¡®fizzing whizzbees¡¯."


    "Fizzing whizzbees, got it," I muttered under my breath as I jogged up the stairs towards Dumbledore¡¯s office.


    Merlin, what was waiting for us now? I just really hoped we weren¡¯t about to get kicked out.