Follow the Butterflies

Chapter 6: Happy Thoughts

By kazooband

"Are you alright?"

"No!" Ron exclaimed incredulously. How could anyone expect him to be alright after being threatened by Malfoy? Then he caught himself. "I mean, yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask? How are you?"

Ron turned around to see Harry and Hermione's confused faces, stealthily stuffing the scrap of paper in his pocket. Apparently he wasn't quite stealthy enough, Harry seemed to miss it, but Hermione's eyes followed the progress of his hand.

"What was that?" she asked suspiciously.

"What was what?" Ron asked innocently, unable to meet his friends' eyes and examining the portrait behind them instead. The subject noticed and stared back. Ron blinked first.

"That paper you just put in your pocket, Ronald," Hermione replied.

Ron winced. He hated it when she called him by his full name. It made it sound like he was in trouble.

"Oh, that," Ron started, astounding himself with his own acting ability. "It...um...it occurred to me what I might be doing wrong with this patronus business. I...decided to write it down so I wouldn't forget."

"What was this great insight?" Hermione pressed.

Damn, what did it take to fool this girl?

"Right," Ron said, trying to buy himself some thinking time. "I don't think I'm...erm...thinking happy enough thoughts."

Harry and Hermione stared. Ron, once again, blinked first.

"I see," Hermione said.

Ron heaved a huge sigh of relief, but his elation was short lived.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," Harry said. "I see what's going on."

Ron felt as though he'd just swallowed an icicle, a very sharp icicle.

"You do? I mean...nothing's going on," Ron stammered.

"Yes there is," Harry replied, eying Ron, an impish smile growing on his face. "You have a girlfriend, don't you?"

"N-no I don't," Ron replied.

"Yes you do, but you didn't want us to find out about it," Harry continued. "How else can you explain your behavior over the past few days?"

"It...I...um...well..." Ron stuttered, chancing a glance at Hermione. Her eyes had swelled to cartoonish proportions. He didn't want to do it, but he'd been offered such a perfect way out that he didn't dare pass it up. "You caught me."

"Well, what's her name, mate?" Harry pressed.

"Keplilyeth...Shmeirheimer," Ron improvised dismally. It occurred to him a moment later that there was no chance he'd be able to remember that name for longer than a minute.

"Oh," Harry replied, his nose slightly wrinkled. "What house is she in?"

"Gryfflepuff," Ron replied, a bit too quickly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Ravenclaw," Ron said, finally making up his mind. "Sixth year."

"I see," Harry said, looking confused. "You should point her out to us sometime."

"Sure," Ron replied reluctantly, realizing another flaw in his plan. "She's...kind of shy about it, though." Harry looked like he wanted to continue his interrogation, but Ron decided that a change of subject was in order. "I think I'll get in some more patronus practice before I head back to the common room."

"Do you want some help?" Harry offered. "We could go back to the Room of Requirement. Maybe we can figure out what's been giving you trouble."

"No!" Ron exclaimed, a bit more forcefully than he intended. "I mean, I don't want to keep you up. I reckon I've nearly got it."

"If you're sure," Harry replied uncertainly.

"I'm sure," Ron said, urging them past. As soon as they Harry and Hermione had turned the corner, Ron rushed to the nearest wall, pulled out the scrap of parchment Malfoy's torture was written on, and scribbled the name of his "girlfriend" at the end of it.

Afterwards he simply stared at the words, wondering how things had gotten so bloody messed up so quickly.

***************

Ron woke up the next morning feeling absolutely horrible, although it took him a few minutes to remember exactly why. When he sat up, Harry glanced at him, then at his socks, then back again.

"You look terrible, how late were you out last night?"

Ron mumbled something incoherent. It sounded a lot like "midnight," but he was fairly certain that he meant to say "three."

"Do you have your patronus figured out, then?" Harry asked.

"N-nearly," Ron replied, artfully using a yawn to justify his nervous stutter.

"Oh," Harry sighed, looking dejected. Then he brightened up. "Oh! You weren't actually practicing at all, were you?"

"Where else would I have been?" Ron asked.

Harry gave Ron a strange look.

"Oh!" Ron yelped, realization dawning on him. "You think I was with...with..." Damn, he couldn't remember the name. "...with my girlfriend," Ron continued jauntily. "Well I wasn't."

"Alright," Harry replied. "If you don't want to talk about it that's fine. We need to get to breakfast before Potions class anyway."

Ron's smug expression melted into despair. On top of everything else, now he had Potions class.

***************

Ron had never been great at Potions, he'd never been good at Potions, he'd never even been decent at Potions, but he usually managed to avoid being absolutely, horribly, terrible at it. Not today.

"Tell me, Weasley, what potion are we making?" Snape sneered.

Ron's eyes flicked from the Professor to the blackboard and back. "The strengthening solution, sir?"

"If someone were to look in your cauldron, what do you guess that person would suppose you were making?" Snape continued.

"Pond scum, sir?" Ron ventured after chancing a glance into the cauldron.

"I would have guessed sewage," Snape replied slowly. "What is the first ingredient in the strengthening solution?"

Ron tried to read the blackboard for help, but Snape had stepped in the way. He looked to his potion for inspiration, willing the answer to separate itself from the mixture and show itself. No such luck.

"Lacewing flies, sir?" Ron guessed hopefully.

"Congratulations, Mr. Weasley," Snape sneered. "You have just inducted yourself into the dunderhead hall of fame."

Brilliant, Ron thought. Just the spot for me.

"Read out the order of ingredients," Snape commanded, stepping aside.

"Knotgrass, salamander blood, billywig stings, and pomegranate juice," Ron read, squinting slightly.

"Are there any lacewing flies called for?" Snape asked.

"No, sir," Ron replied, looking downcast. He was sure he heard several chuckles throughout the room.

"I suppose that explains the lamentable state of your potion," Snape hissed. "Explain the effect adding lacewing flies would have on the strengthening solution."

"Well, um," Ron stammered, supposing that the response 'it turns your potion into pond scum' would have landed him in detention. "Lacewing flies and salamander blood are never meant to be combined because...because..."

"Pitiful," Snape interrupted. "Lacewing flies and salamander blood are only combined in the most powerful poisons. Lacewing and knotgrass render each other completely unreactive, but since you obviously added more lacewing flies than knotgrass, anyone who drank this potion would almost certainly die."

Ron simply gazed back at the Professor, hoping he was done, but this hadn't been Ron's day for small favors.

"Ever since you first stepped into this classroom I knew that you would never be a suitable potion maker, but I never thought anyone could be so utterly foolish."

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

"You remain as inept as a first year."

Happy thoughts.

"This would not be such a travesty if I didn't hear similar reports from your other teachers."

Happy thoughts!

"You should know that I will be the first to recommend your expulsion from this school should your marks fail to improve."

If Snape's tirade continued, Ron didn't hear it, for at that moment, a silver butterfly emerged over Snape's shoulder. The patronus was far larger than any version Ron had conjured previously. There was certainly no chance of hiding it in his hand this time, but, then again, it seemed that the damage had already been done. Confused whispered were coming from all over the classroom, along with a bit of cooing from the girls. Snape followed Ron's horrified gaze, jerking his head back suddenly when his eyes finally fell on the strange insect.

However, the butterfly wasn't finished causing trouble yet, not even close. It floated lazily through the air then dove into Ron's potion, which it set spinning, inspiring Ron's neighbors to jump away in fear. The butterfly then freed itself of the potion and took to darting, pixie like, around the room. It toppled chairs, cauldrons, and people, and most of those who hadn't taken cover while they had the chance now sported at least one limb with visibly bulging muscles.

The class now in utter disarray, the butterfly strayed unwisely close to Professor Snape, who plucked it neatly out of the air and shook it roughly, demanding, "Whose butterfly is this?"

Even after the patronus dissipated into a wisp of smoke, it was all Ron could do to keep from running out of the classroom to go live in the forbidden forest. After all, that would have given away the fact that the patronus was his.