Chapter Text
Ron began pestering Harry about his family two weeks into term. It was obvious he was doing so due to the fact that Harry had been trying his hardest to escape talking about his family. He often turned the conversation back to Ron, exaggerating his interest in the magical world norms. Well, he wasn’t exactly lying about the eagerness, but Ron wasn’t dense, and he was pushing Harry more intentionally.
“What are your Aunt and Uncle like?” he asked over lunch, stuffing his face with a ham sandwich. Harry grimaced, both at the question and the crumbs flinging out of Ron’s mouth.
“They aren’t very interesting.”
“Well,” Ron spoke with food still in his mouth, making Hermione scoff from a couple feet beside Harry, “I keep thinking my stories are boring, but you always seem fairly entertained by them anyway. What makes you think I’ll find your life so boring?”
He shrugged again, “I’ve just lived a pretty lame life is all, I haven’t got much to tell you about. Unless you want to hear about Mrs. Figg and her cats.”
Ron nodded, “Go on.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, “Alright, well, Mrs. Figg is my babysitter, I suppose.” He felt his cheeks flame up, embarrassed at the admission that he was handled like an infant that couldn’t take care of himself. On the contrary, he could care for himself rather well.
Ron’s eyebrows furrowed, “Just you? I thought you had a cousin.”
Harry saw danger, “I do.”
“Why do you go to separate sitters?” he laughed a little to himself as Harry quickly lost his appetite. “Seems bloody mad to go through all of that.”
“Well,” Harry tried not to think of the disappointed look Ron would give him once he learned that Harry Potter had to be watched because he couldn’t control his feelings out in public, or that he wasn’t really all that special, because even his own family didn’t like him. “It’s mostly just for me. Dudley is allowed to go to zoos and restaurants, I always make out-of-ordinary things happen.”
The smile faded from Ron’s face, melting like wax the more Harry spoke.
“Of course you’d make those kinds of things happen, Harry, you’re a wizard.” He gestured around them, “Plus, I mean, this isn’t some ordinary place. Is it?”
“No,” Harry couldn’t help but laugh, remembering his uncle and cousin’s faces towards Hagrid’s umbrella. “Hogwarts is definitely not Smelting's, that’s for sure.” At Ron’s confused expression, he quickly explained. “Smelting's Academy is the school my uncle went to. It’s for ordinary, normal boys.”
Ron stared for a silent moment and then cackled loudly at the expense of Dudley Dursley. “He sounds like a load of dragon dung, that cousin of yours. In fact, I bet he doesn’t even know that dragons exist.”
Harry laughed again behind his hands, “I'll be sure to tell him.”
Ron smiled over at him and then leaned in with his sandwich, “And your Aunt and Uncle.” On a high of amusement, Harry didn’t think much about what he said.
He looked over at the great table, where Hagrid was in a boastful conversation with Professor Flitwick, “Well, Hagrid had to explain most of everything to me when he came to get me.”
“Yeah,” Ron interrupted, “Why is it that Hagrid had to do that?”
“Oh, they hate magic. My Aunt wasn’t even speaking to my parents before they died, she considered them dead to her already, I suppose. It was just their luck that I happened to be on their doorstep one morning. They kept it a secret from me.” Harry explained how his Aunt and Uncle had kept stealing his letters, and how Uncle Vernon had gone on his rampage around the country trying to escape them.
“A CAR CRASH?”
Harry quickly shushed him and tugged his arm enough to make him sit back down, avoiding the stares.
“They lied about a lot.”
“I’ll say,” Ron huffed, clearly bothered. “Have you ever had a good birthday?” he asked.
He thought about it, desperate to ease the anger Ron was expressing.
“There was one year that my Uncle gave me a bike?” What he didn’t share was that it had been missing one of the training wheels, because it had been Dudley’s at age four, and it had been a week after his actual birthday. But it made Ron back down.
“You’re a bloody saint, mate, to end up as decent as you are after dealing with that lot all your life.”
With pride in his heart, Harry grinned, “I haven’t lived all of it yet.”
-
Harry dragged Ron down the dungeons, searching corners from the troll on their way to the girl’s bathroom.
“This is mental, Harry,” Ron complained, “What if she’s already back up in the common room with everyone else. She could be warming up by the fire, surrounded by friends, far, far away from-”
Ron’s whining was interrupted by the shrill noise of a scream. A girl’s scream. They looked at each other and broke into a sprint towards the sound.
The troll had already destroyed most of the bathroom when they arrived, the stalls in splinters and one of the sinks in pieces. Hermione had a hand over her mouth while she stared in paralyzed fear, as the troll looked around for her.
Ron walked out from behind Harry, waving his arms, “Hey! Ugly! Over here!” He gained the attention of the troll, and Harry took the momentary confusion of the creature to gesture Hermione out.
She ran fast, screaming as the troll missed her by a hair as she passed the rest of the sinks. Meanwhile, Harry ran and grabbed onto the club as it went to attempt another hit.
“Harry!” Ron called out. He distantly heard his friend curse, but he was too focused on hanging onto the troll’s head to respond. It tried to shake him off, but he held onto its ears.
“Help him, Ron!” Hermione ordered, helplessly glancing at her wand underneath one of the broken stalls.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Ron yelled.
The club that had been in the troll's hand, suddenly stuck in the air, the troll halting its attempts at getting Harry off, to stare up at it. Ron looked more surprised than Hermione or the troll did, as he pointed his wand at the floating weapon.
While it was distracted, he took the opportunity to slide down its bumpy back and run behind Ron. It heard Harry’s footsteps and turned back around. But, it barely began to take a step before its own weapon was falling on its head.
Hermione gasped as its eyes fell closed, “Uh-oh,” she grabbed Ron and Harry’s robes, pulling them back as it fell in front of them, shaking the room with its heftiness. Harry made his way towards it, careful as he got closer to be quiet. But it didn’t move.
Ron hesitantly followed him, “Be careful,” he whispered.
Harry nodded, reaching forwards and grasping his wand that had somehow gotten caught in the troll’s nose when he’d been on top of it. He yanked it out, gagging at the disgusting snot that covered it. He wiped it on his robes and pocketed it as they suddenly heard footsteps approaching.
Professor McGonagall appeared through the doorway first, gasping as she took in the scene. Her eyes stuck on the troll as Snape and Quirrell filed in after her. Snape’s eyes nearly widened as he quirked an eyebrow at the three students.
Professor McGonagall leveled them all with a stern scowl, “Follow me,” she ordered, turning and leaving Snape and Quirrell to deal with the unconscious troll. She led them through the corridors, straight to her office. The paintings, upon seeing their dusty clothes and hunched shoulders, began their gossip.
“Sit,” she commanded, standing before them on the other side of her desk as they obeyed. “What, did you think you were doing?” Before either of them could respond, she continued. “I mean, a mountain troll? You could have been killed! Do you three understand the danger you put yourselves in?” In a final strike, she declared, “You could have caused much more disaster. I have it in mind to take points from Gryffindor!”
Ron went bright red, “Points?”
She turned on Ron, “Each, Mister Weasley!” Ron’s head was in his hands, Hermione hung her head.
“It was my fault, Professor,” she said meekly.
Professor McGonagall turned to look at Hermione, shock purely evident on her face, “Miss. Granger?” When Hermione seemed to shrink under the professor’s gaze, Professor McGonagall sat down. “I am disappointed, my dear,” she shook her head, “I would have thought a bright student, like yourself, would have known better than to compromise your own safety. Explain yourself.”
“I thought I might be able to stop the troll myself,” she lied, “I’ve read loads about them. But, if it weren’t for Harry and Ron, I’d be dead.” Ron’s jaw was as far down as it could go, and Harry felt a million times worse than he had when they’d first heard the real reason Hermione had been in the girl’s bathroom.
“Well,” Professor McGonagall tutted, “I’d suggest the two of you,” she glanced at the two boys, “Get yourselves to your dormitories. Do not speak of your risky behavior,” she warned. Turning back to Hermione, who looked devastated to be under the scrutiny of their teacher and continued to stare at her shoes. “Miss. Granger, I must insist on taking you to the infirmary to make sure that you were not hurt further beyond that scratch on your forehead. Then, I will escort you to your common room.” She looked between the three of them, waiting for any disagreement, but they all hopped up and went to the door.
Harry and Ron waved goodbye, watching sympathetically as Professor McGonagall gently guided Hermione towards the Hospital Wing. She gave them each a delicate smile, and a nod goodnight.
When they were gone, Ron sighed, “How are we supposed to say thank you for that?”
Harry pulled Ron’s arm to get them moving, “Well, you’ll have to apologize first. You were a bit mean to her.”
Ron frowned, ashamed, “I know, I just hope I can make it up to her. I never meant to hurt her feelings. I guess I just got embarrassed when she started to show off. She’s brilliant, that one.”
Harry agreed, “On the bright side, it's better Professor McGonagall, than Snape finding us.”
Ron shivered, “Thank Merlin for that. Plus, everyone knows that she prefers Hermione. Maybe it’ll help us when we grovel.”
-
Ron was sporting a bloody nose by the time Harry reunited with his friends after his first Quidditch match.
“What happened?” he asked, running to him and Hermione, eyes stuck to the bloody, polka dotted handkerchief that was obviously one of Hagrid’s.
“Malfoy was being a proper git, so I turned around and gave him some repercussions,” Ron stated, with a puffed-out chest.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “They were busy brawling, so I stopped Snape from nearly killing you.”
“Thank you for that,” he responded, intentionally not putting a name to the statement, grinning ear to ear when they both nodded back to him individually. Then, he realized what Hermione had said exactly, “Wait- Snape?”
Ron huffed, “Are you really surprised? He’s been just as bad as Malfoy in my opinion.”
Hermione scoffed at him, “What, are you going to go off fighting with professors now too?”
Ron had enough self-preservation in mind to bow his head in some shame, “No,” he mumbled.
Hermione nodded, serious as ever, “Exactly,” she faced Harry, “Let’s go celebrate for now, while we have the chance.” She started towards the castle, leaving the two boys behind.
Ron picked his head back up and grinned, “Socked him right in the eye, mate. Wait ‘till you see him!”
Harry wrapped an arm around his best friend and got them going to catch up with their savior, Hermione Granger.
-
It was after learning about the Mirror or Erised, that Harry began having his first recurring nightmare. But, what made it scary, was that it wasn’t scary at all. Because, after seeing his family for the first time through a mirror, the ‘nightmare’ was really just a reminder that he was an orphan. Which, being eleven years old, Harry thought was a bit unfair.
At first, he’d thought that it was a blessing, for once. The rare chance to see the dead. It was a spectacle, and it had made him happy. But now, he was as happy as a harpy.
It began when he was a baby, with black hair and green eyes like jades. His mother, always a few steps away, constantly checking his cradle, or holding him in her arms. His father, gone with a kiss to the forehead in the morning, and back by suppertime with a big smile on his face. In what must have been coincidence, they always kissed him where his current scar was marked into his skin.
Later on, he was a toddler, waddling around a small, cozy home. A home of magic and wonderment. His father, always producing some new spell to amaze Harry’s eyes. A bright blue stag that stood taller than even James Potter; red sparks, floating toys, and dolls that would act out plays on their own.
His mother was like a foreshadowing force, though. Her reluctance to join them in on any fun was noticeable. She was always near a window, anxiously glancing out, she dropped plates and cups to run to one if there was a noise too loud. She kept Harry by her side closer and closer, and the only time she would allow him out of her sight, was when his father returned.
It all ended when she gave him one last kiss on the forehead, and screamed in a blinding green light.
Ron woke him up, gently calling his name as Harry began uncurling himself out of the ball he’d squeezed himself into.
“I’m worried about you,” Ron sat on his bed and closed the drapes. “That mirror has done something to you.”
Harry shook his head, “No. It’s…It’s reminded me of things from before my parents died.” Ron squinted at him through the darkness. He smiled as he remembered his mum’s hugs, and his dad’s delight at using magic for joy. But, reality settled in as he realized it was all a dream. Half of it could have been real, just as much as none of it could have.
“Did it make you remember something from that night?” Ron asked, voice a hushed whisper, like he didn’t think he should be saying it.
“No,” Harry thought hard, raking through what had happened in his dream, “It was all…good. It was all happy memories, if that’s what they were.”
Ron looked glad for a moment, and then as if that was horrible news.
“It didn’t end well, did it?”
Harry frowned as well, turning his head away, “No. No, it didn't.”
“I’m sorry, Harry.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Ron finally looked back up at him. “D’you want a hug? My mom always hugs us after a nightmare.”
Harry, shocked similarly to when he made the glass disappear for a snake, found himself nodding.
Ron leaned forward, hugging him tightly. Like, the more he squeezed, the more sadness would be pushed out, like a tube of toothpaste. And, he found, it worked.
-
Malfoy was scared before they’d even entered the Forbidden Forest, and it was worse when they did.
“That oaf,” he muttered, “Who thought it was a good idea to punish us with him in charge.”
Harry scowled, “Well, Malfoy, think about it. You’re lucky you’re with me. If something happens, at least you know Hagrid likes me,” he sneered.
He heard Malfoy gasp at the insinuation, and kept on walking. The forest was dense and dark, and it was only by the limited light of their lantern that they could avoid tripping on overgrown weeds and tree roots.
Fang had stopped, staring forward with frightened expressions, and his ears twitched every other second.
“What is it?” he asked the dog, squinting to try and see ahead, but there was only a faint stream of moonlight from the opening ahead. He couldn’t hear what Fang did, so he traveled through with nearly silent footsteps. Malfoy, on the other hand, had suddenly decided to be as loud as possible with his inability to calmly wave off bugs.
“I hate this forest,” he complained, spitting his feelings all over the back of Harry’s neck.
He would have turned around and told his companion to shut it. If he hadn’t caught sight of the unicorn they’d been searching for. Plus, the culprit of the crime that was still feeding on its blood.
Harry didn’t have time to warn Malfoy, before the boy was screaming and running back the way they came from.
“I really wish Ron were here,” he watched as his only source of light disappeared with his only backup. He looked back to the scene, gasping when he caught the cloaked figure looking back at him, its mouth dripping silvery blood. He began to walk backwards as it drifted towards him, growing faster as Harry slipped on tree roots, and eventually fell in his hastiness.
“Harry?” he heard Hermione yell. Malfoy must have made it back in record time, Harry thought he ought to have been grateful, if only we weren't about to end up deceased like the unicorn.
“Harry,” Hagrid’s voice was closer than Hermione’s had been, “Send up ‘yer sparks!” He did as he was told, the red fireworks distracting the figure gaining speed.
Then, a centaur showed up, sending the monster away.
-
With Dumbledore gone, Harry was much more frantic than he’d been before.
“Mate, who’s to say that Snape’s going to try tonight? So, Dumbledore’s gone, there’s gotta be loads of protection spells surrounding the stone. Just because he can get past Fluffy, doesn’t mean he'd be good enough to get through everything,” Ron was beside him in front of the fire, Hermione in her chair as she worked on essays. She didn't look as convinced as Ron seemed to be, about Professor McGonagall’s warning to forget about their knowledge of the stone entirely.
“He’s had all year to figure everything out,” Harry reminded them, “For all we know, he’s already making his way through as we speak.”
“Harry’s right,” Hermione set down her parchment, “We need to do something, especially if no one takes extra measures with our warning.” She glanced around, checking that they were mostly alone. “We’ll sneak over in the cloak at midnight. Then, we’ll just make sure that no one’s been through.”
Ron looked slightly frightened, “If the professors are so sure that the tests are fool proof, how are we supposed to believe that we will make it through?”
Harry watched as Hermione thumbed through another book, “We just have to.” He tried to offer Ron a consoling glance, “I don’t think we have a choice to fail.”
-
On the train ride back to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Ron was on a roll.
“First, you slip your Aunt and Uncle some sleeping drought. And then, I’ll get the twins to drive to Surrey, where we’ll get you and take you back home,” he said this all rather proudly, Harry wasn’t sure how to explain-
“Where on Earth would Harry find sleeping drought? He lives with muggles. Besides, that’s completely inhumane, Ron. I mean, drugging people, really?”
Ron frowned at her, “Says the witch that paralyzed Neville.”
She gasped, “How dare you-”
Harry interrupted them before Hermione paralyzed Ron without her wand, “-As rewarding a plan like that would be, Hermione is right on both counts. Unfortunately, Ron.” He shrugged, “Plus, none of them use sleeping medication anyway.”
“I’ll keep brainstorming,” Ron sighed, already deep in thought.
Hermione hit them both with one of her textbooks. They both were left clutching different limbs when she was done.
It wasn’t until it was announced that they were five minutes from the station that Harry realized what Ron had said.
“Hold on, did you say the twins drive?”