Follow the Butterflies

Chapter 2: What Happens After You Swallow Something You Usually Shouldn't Swallow

By kazooband

Ron slipped out of the Room of Requirement as unobtrusively as he could, considering his sudden state of hurry. He could feel the curious stares on his back, but had no time to worry about them. Hopefully he'd be able to concoct a suitable excuse before the meeting let out and he was subjected to the questions of his fellows. In fact, Ron realized as his stomach gave a funny sort of twinge, such an excuse seemed ready made. Butterflies in the stomach indeed, he felt liable to throw up at any second.

There were several magical candies designed to keep moving even after they had been eaten and Ron was familiar with most of them, but nothing could have prepared him for the sensation of an angry butterfly setting his insides churning.

Even as Ron closed his eyes and leaned up against the nearest wall, hoping to stabilize his stomach, it occurred to him that throwing up might be exactly the sort of solution the situation called for, gruesome as it was. What had he been thinking, anyway, swallowing it? How long would he have to stay this way? As if Fred and George needed any more ammunition.

Suddenly, the butterfly perpetrated a flurry of activity. Ron was certain that he was going to be sick right there, all over the floor, but then it all stopped. The butterfly had finally dissipated. Pleasantly surprised, Ron heaved a huge sigh of relief, followed by a loud belch which left a faint silver mist in front of him that slowly disappeared into the air.

Sure, now it goes away.

However, now that one crisis had been abated, Ron had a new set of troubles to contend with. How could a butterfly possibly be a helpful patronus? Ron could almost see it: alone in a dark clearing at the mercy of a hundred merciless Dementors, he calls a patronus to his aid. The butterfly charges at the nearest Dementor, only to be snatched rudely out of the air, thrown to the ground, and trampled. A second patronus meets the same fate. A sickening chorus of laughter erupts from the Dementors as one steps forward, throwing back its hood while the butterflies lie broken and twitching on the ground...

Ron gulped and shook his head at the horror of it all, Dementors don't even have feet. But still, that wouldn't do at all. Harry was right; this war against Voldemort was only going to get worse. How could he expect to help if he couldn't even produce a useful patronus? There was only one thing to do then, Ron would have to practice in private, and maybe, just maybe, he'd figure out a way to use this patronus to his advantage and still not let anyone find out about it.

With that decided, Ron set out for the nearest empty classroom he could find and locked himself inside.

"Expect Patronum!" Ron yelled, imagining something large and powerful, like a bear, coming out of his wand. Much to his chagrin, when the silver mist solidified it was once again a butterfly.

Ron glared at in as it fluttered cheekily around his head and blew in its direction whenever it passed in front of his face, but the insect was not to be dissuaded from its course.

Ron tried to swat the patronus away as he raised his wand for another attempt at the charm, but the stupid creature went and landed on his hand instead. He tried to shake it off, but it clung on doggedly, like a piece of tape or a stubborn bit of lint. No matter how Ron shook his hand, the bug simply refused to take a hint.

It was strange that the butterfly could hold on while being subjected to such an onslaught. Its spindly legs hardly looked strong enough, but when its wings were arranged just right it seemed that the butterfly could use the air to hold itself on rather than allow itself to be pulled off. But the wings were so thin, almost like paper, how could they possibly support its weight in flight. Ron wasn't sure if he'd ever seen so many shades of silver before. Whenever the butterfly moved its wings they caught the light in different ways and reflected rainbows on the walls. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Ron had seen in his life, but as he gazed at it and it stared right back, its antennae waving curiously, Ron determined that there was only one way to describe the butterfly, it was mischievous, a perfectly respectable trait. Maybe this patronus wasn't so bad after all...

"Weasley! What are you doing here?"

Ron whirled around, closing his hand around the butterfly.

"I could ask you the same question, Malfoy," Ron spat. "I'm a prefect too, remember." Inwardly, he was cringing. Of all the people to come along! Hadn't he locked the door?

"Touchy," Malfoy replied patronizingly, crossing his arms and leaning up against the doorframe. "Sounds like something's been bugging you."

Ron quailed. Just how long had Malfoy been standing there? Had he seen the butterfly? It sure sounded like he had. However, as it transpired, even if Malfoy hadn't seen the butterfly before, he was going to find out about it. The butterfly chose that moment to flutter out from behind its creator and settled in his hair just above his ear, resembling nothing so much as a flower. Horrified, Ron opened his hand and found that it had been clenched around nothing but air. He had never caught the butterfly in the first place.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was in stitches. He had to grab hold of the nearest desk to keep from falling over.

"Wait...until...everyone...hears...your...patronus...is...a...butterfly!" Malfoy gasped, dissolving into another fit of laughter as soon as he finished speaking.

All Ron would have asked for at that point was to leave with whatever dignity he had left, but Malfoy did not even allow him that.

Click.

Ron looked up to see his tormentor returning a camera to his pocket then watched, too embarrassed to act, as the Slytherin left. His laughter could be heard all down the hallway. Finally, the butterfly dissolved.

"Sure, now you go away," Ron muttered angrily.