Half a Man

Relying on Luna Lovegood was a bit like jumping of a diving board, Ron decided. You took a deep breath, held your nose closed and prayed to Merlin that you wouldn't land flat on your stomach. There's nothing more to it. The water is always there to cushion your fall, and Luna is always willing to believe any strange story you tell her.

For the first time in weeks Ron wasn't feeling miserable as he did his exercises with John Walters. Sitting on a bike that did the movements for him wasn't as awkward as it had been. The bike had actually started to grow on him. All right, his good spirits might have had something to do with the fact that Ron didn't have to worry about Harry and Hermione's relationship. Ginny and his best friend's incredibly public and mushy goodbye kiss on Platform Nine and three-quarters had made sure that everyone in the wizarding world knew about them being together.

Now the only thing Ron had to worry about was Hermione. He hadn't heard from her since their big fight two weeks ago. About twenty times a day, Ron was tempted to sent her a letter. But he always found an excuse write one. Writing just to say that he had been a stupid git wasn't enough. He had to show her that she was wrong. Ron had to prove to her that he was more than a spineless cry-baby, wallowing in self-pity. If he ever wanted a chance with her, he had to show her that he was a man. Ron gave the pedal an extra push. If it took trusting Luna with the essential part of his plans, than that was what he had to do.

"John, stop the pedals", Ron suddenly shouted at his fysiotherapeut. Confused Walters quickly waved his wand and stopped the movements. "What's the problem? Do you have a cramp?" he asked.

Ron ignored the question. Instead he focused all his body strength and all his will power into his legs. Everything in Ron's mind was concentrating on his right foot. He pushed with all his might. Nothing happened.

"Don't worry about it," said John. "I'm sure something will happen soon."

Ron didn't listen to Walters' standard pep talk. There was only one thing he thought about : moving his feet. Still nothing happened. Suddenly an image of Hermione flashed through his mind. The way she had looked when she told him she was certain he'd walk again. How the sun had shone on her face and how she had smiled at him.

"You did it, Ron that's fantastic," Walters shouted. Ron looked down at his feet. His right foot now was in the downward position. He tried again with his left foot and indeed, he felt it move. It was slow, it was unsteady, but it was there. His legs worked again.

Wriggling the big toe on his left foot was an enormous task, but it was a task Ron loved doing. His fysiotherapeut had left for the day, and now Ron was alone in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, his feet were on the floor. All he did was move his toe, up and down, up and down. He couldn't remember ever seeing anything remotely this exciting. Not the first Quidditch match he ever saw, not even his first glance of Hogwarts.

Ron decided to be reckless and move all the toes of his left foot. They all did what he wanted, like little soldiers following their commanders' demands. He hummed a song by Mean Muggles Mansion that he had heard on the wireless earlier that week as he watched his moving toes.

Ron knew that he should have told his family instantly, and that Harry would love to hear his news. But he wasn't ready to, not yet. It was going to be his secret for a while.

A ray of sunlight fell through his window onto his legs. For some reason, the weather had cleared up the moment the holidays were over. Ron didn't mind. Maybe he could play a bit of Quidditch with Harry before the November rains started. Walters had told him that if he kept practising like this, he could be taking his first steps again in a few weeks. Ron was hoping that he could stand up again before the third of October.

In the meanwhile, he would take a look at those anatomy books Hermione had given to him earlier. That revalidation thing seemed to worked, and Ron wondered how that could be. He had some questions about that for John too.

"What are you smiling about?" Harry asked when Ron flew into his room.

"Nothing special, mate. Can't a lad be happy for a change?" Ron picked up a cushion from Harry's bed and tossed it at his friend, who was standing in front of the window.

Since Mrs. Weasley always wanted the best for her guests, Harry stayed in the twins old room. Ron thought it figured that it was Harry, not him, who now had the biggest room in the house. Not that he really minded, though. Ron's own room was charmed against any sort of prank the twins had ever tried. The first time Harry had opened a cupboard to stuff his clothes in, he had been hit with a twins specialty. For more than an hour, the poor boy had sung 'Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves' in a shrill falsetto voice.

"You got an owl from Hermione, didn't you?" Harry waved his wand and redirected the pillow at Ron. It slammed, quite hard, into his face.

"Ow, no. And don't you start, too. Dating Ginny didn't turn you into some kind of love expert, thank you very much. Came to ask if you're up for a bit of chess. You may have defeated you-know--Voldemort, but you've never beaten me."

"Only because I got distracted by that whole saving-the-world-thingy. From now on, I'm making it my life's work to beat you. You just wait." Having said that Harry followed Ron to the living room.

An hour later, Ron's knight was falling of the board, laughing. Instead of taking chess seriously, Ron and Harry had been goofing around all afternoon. They had decided not to play by the rules for once.

They had ordered their to take each other out, one way or the other. Harry's queen, for instance, tickled every piece she met till they rolled off of the board. Ron's bishop was opting for a stare-down game. And their rooks each used such cruel wrestling techniques that their opponents gave up in seconds. Ron was wondering if his rook could wrestle down Harry's when he heard two telltale pops behind him.

"Oooooh, there he is." Fred squealed like a little girl. "My hero."

"Can I please have your autograph, sir?" George said as he waved a newspaper in front of Ron's face. Ron looked up at his brothers, who were wearing identical t-shirts with 'Ron's Our King' slogans on them.

He grabbed the paper from George's hand. It was the latest edition of The Quibbler. Ron hadn't seen it yet, because his parents didn't have a subscription. His mother always said that there was 'already to much nonsense in our home'.

On the front page was a big picture of Ron flying on his broom during a Hogwart's Quidditch match. The header above it changed colour every ten seconds and read:

Weasley Will Walk --Forgotten Hogsmeade Hero Tells All.

In stories about the defeat of Lord Thingy he usually plays a small part. He doesn't mind though, says Ron Weasley (18) in an exclusive interview with the Quibbler. What he does mind is people thinking he will never use his legs again. "I'll be walking in no time," Ron stated. "I'm working hard enough for it."

Ron, however, denies that he's taking an essence of Stuiters. Rumours say that his brother Charlie, dragontamer in Romania, provides him with this illegal potion. "I've never heard of these creatures before. And if they existed Charlie wouldn't hurt them. He couldn't even tickle a dragon if it was standing on him. The only potions I take are the ones Professor Snape makes."

Read more on Ron's part in the final battle on page four.