Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter One:

The Letter and the Rejection

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your reply by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The red haired, freckled boy looked down at the thick parchment with a copious amount of emotions coursing through him. Among the feelings were excitement for the adventure that he knew was in store for him; eagerness to prove that he was, as the letter proclaimed, a wizard (and a talented one at that); and smugness at finally having proof that he did, at least in some form, fit in with his wizarding family. Chiefly, though, Ronald Weasley felt apprehension. Now that he had his acceptance letter, Ron officially felt the desire to not only become a great wizard, but to prove his uniqueness to the rest of his family.

It was rather hard, you see, for the youngest boy of six (and the next to the last of seven total children) to stand out. Sure, it had been easy enough for his older brothers to do. Bill Weasley had proven to everyone that he was smart, brave, and rule-abiding. He'd actually ended up being a Prefect, and then Head Boy in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and now he was working with Gringotts, the wizarding bank, as a Curse Breaker (which, as Ron understood it, was a very dangerous line of work). Charlie, the second eldest, had been the best Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in all the years that Professor McGonagall had been Head of House (or so he liked to brag). He had also been a Prefect, too, because he was incredibly smart. His bravery was daily being put to the test now, because he had a job working with dragons in Romania. Then there was Percy, currently Ron's oldest brother at Hogwarts. Percy had proven himself the brainiest of the Weasleys so far and also followed the rules far more strictly than even Bill (who, Ron credited, was now going through a bit of a rebellious phase, now that he was on his own). It would be no surprise to anyone in the family if Percy received confirmation of being a Prefect today. Fred and George Weasley were next in line, and had managed to accomplish spurning their academic duties, but standing out by being professional pranksters. They were both smart, though, even if they didn't do much to gain the best marks. Finally, Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger and only sister, had managed to stand out by being a girl, being very sweet, but also by being the most stubborn person anyone had ever met. Even Bill and Charlie, who were both a whole generation older than Ginny, feared her wrath and tried their best not to upset her (her magical abilities flared when she was angry, so everyone would always attempt to placate her before anyone else).

Then there was Ron. Boring, insignificant Ron. Or at least, that's how he felt about himself. What could there be said about him that couldn't be said about everyone else? He was a decent flyer, but so were Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George. He had a good sense of humor, but so did Bill, Fred, George, and Ginny. He was ambitious, but so were Bill, Charlie, and Percy. About the only thing Ron felt he had going for him were his skills at playing Wizard Chess, but where would that get him? People didn't care about someone else's ability to come up with strategies in games, did they?

He even looked like everyone else. Red hair, freckles, blue eyes, and tall for his age, Ron blended in when surrounded by the rest of them. The only feature that was uniquely his was his long nose, but it wasn't one he was particularly proud of; he certainly didn't want to be remembered as the Weasley who had a long nose.

Looking up from the letter, Ron scrutinized the rolling hills visible through his window. Knowing that he was going to Hogwarts was refreshing and all, but the boy really did want to be different for once. Being a first year, he wouldn't be able to play on the Quidditch team, so achieving similar success to Charlie's (which is what he really wanted) was out of the question for now. Of course, when he did get on the Quidditch team, Ron wouldn't want to be a Seeker. He'd be a Keeper, protecting the goal hoops and keeping the Chasers from scoring with the Quaffle.

It was too early to tell if he would be a Prefect like Bill, Charlie, and, most likely Percy, too. Ron really didn't know what school was like. He had been taught by his mother up until now about simple things like math and literature and basic knowledge of the wizarding world, but learning actual spells and potions would be a new experience altogether. How was he to know if he was smart and hard-working? He'd never had homework in his life!

Perhaps, thought Ron, I can get an award or something for special services to the school. Ron had known that, when people did something extraordinary for Hogwarts, they would get a plaque and notoriety. But Ron didn't think there was anything he could do. It wasn't like he could donate cash; his parents were poor and he didn't make an allowance, anyway, so he couldn't save up. No, that was out of the question. Ron would certainly have to do something dangerous to get that kind of recognition.

"Ugh...I hate coming in here now. Too...much...orange!" a small voice said behind him, effectively breaking Ron's concentration. With a lopsided grin, Ron turned around and saw his little sister Ginny squinting toward him as though his brightly painted walls were giving her a headache. The look on her face was enough to make Ron grin in earnest. The orange walls around him were a relatively new addition to his room, as were the posters of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, whose main color was orange. Ron simply loved his new décor. Ginny, however, did not, and it amused probably more than it should have.

"Oh, too bad. I just painted your room the same color," Ron teased. Ginny, who had probably just come from her room, stuck her tongue out at her brother. Then, rather unceremoniously, she crossed the room and flopped down on his bed.

"What's that in your hand?" she inquired, staring at the folded piece of parchment with interest.

Ron grinned. "It's my acceptance letter." Ginny squealed and leapt from her spot on his mattress, rushing him in a tight hug.

"Oh, Ron, I knew it, I knew it!" she exclaimed.

"Calm down, Gin, it's only a letter." He could feel himself going red in the face as Ginny's reaction overwhelmed him. He would have never thought she would have been this happy.

"Have you told Mum yet? She'll be getting you something new, you know." It was customary with the Weasley family for everyone to get their supplies second-hand. Everyone, that was, but first years and newly appointed Prefects, who both got one new item each. Ron, of course, had been eagerly awaiting his opportunity to get something new since Easter. He knew, though, that the thing he truly wanted would probably be out of the question.

"I don't know if she will, though. At least, she won't get me the thing I want most," Ron said, frowning.

"Why not? It can't be too expensive, can it?"

"Well...I want an owl," he said. Ginny frowned and looked down. One thing that Molly and Arthur Weasley couldn't manage was hiding their poverty from their children, and even their two youngest knew when something was out of their parents' financial grasp. In some ways, it was a blessing. The Weasley children never tried to ask for things that they knew their parents couldn't get. In other ways, though, it was most certainly a curse. Anytime they went to Diagon Alley, Ron and Ginny had witnessed other, richer children getting what they wanted from their parents simply by asking (or sometimes demanding) it. It made the kids feel small and useless, as though there was no way they could possibly make life easier for their family, at least monetarily.

As though she were thinking the same thing, Ginny said, "Yeah, I don't know about that one, Ron. You heard Mum and Dad the other night. She was really angry with Dad for getting that telyvissin thing that Muggles use to watch plays and stuff. She said we barely have enough money to feed us, let alone enough to spend on things like that."

"I know," Ron said, recalling his mum's beet red face as she screeched at his Dad for his lack of self-control.

Seeing Ron slump his shoulders, defeated, Ginny hastened to add, "But you never know! I heard her tell Percy the other day that if he were made Prefect, she'd get him an owl. Maybe she'll do the same with you!" This was enough to make Ron straighten up from his leaned position against his dresser and lunge for the door. He could hear Ginny laughing at his sudden inability to contain himself.

Ginny, Ron figured, was probably right about this. Since when had their Mum denied their kids of the thing they wanted most in their first year? Never! As his feet flew down the rickety steps, a plan formulated in his mind over how he should ask her. If she said no, he would agree to do anything in order to get his own owl. He could wear Fred, George, or Bill's old robes, use their old books, or use Charlie's old wand that he had abandoned after graduating from Hogwarts. Yes, there were probably tons of things they could do to make sure that both Percy and Ron got their owls.

As he reached the bottom level, his ears were greeted by an excited squeal from the very person he was looking for. His mother, a short, chubby woman who also had the talent of being rather intimidating, was, at the moment, very elated. She eagerly wrapped both of her arms around her youngest son, and for a moment, Ron thought she was going to squeeze the life out of him. "Oh, Ronnie, darling!" she exclaimed. "You got your letter! Oh, my little boy is going to Hogwarts!" Then, quite abruptly, she snatched the letter from Ron's grasp and read it.

It was only now that she had disentangled herself from him that Ron noticed that he wasn't alone. Fred and George stood in the doorway to the kitchen smirking at the display of affection their mum had shown toward Ron. Percy was near them, standing tall and proud, his new red and gold Prefect badge already buttoned to his jumper. Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Ooooh!! This is such good news! Percy's a Prefect, Ron's a first year, and Fred and George..." Their mum stopped short and looked at the twins with an appraising eye. The two boys both stood taller, as though stealing themselves against what they thought was going to be a barrage of insults. "Well...you're probably both going to be on the Quidditch team again." Ron thought it was a rather nice save. Fred and George had, last year, managed to become the two youngest Weasleys to ever get on the House Quidditch team. Mrs. Weasley had been thrilled, though not quite as excited as she had been when they had gotten their letter.

"Thanks Mum," said Fred in a rather sarcastic voice.

"Yeah, we'd forgotten all about it," said George.

"Now, dears, I didn't mean that it wasn't exciting, it's just that you being on the Quidditch team is-"

"Old news?" the twins questioned. Their mum frowned at the two of them, but they managed two kind sort of smiles for her. Though it was clear to Ron that their mother's lack of enthusiasm hurt Fred and George, he was pretty certain they still feared her wrath even more, so offering a grin was a good way to stay in her good graces.

However, Ron was bored with this conversation. He wanted to talk about his present, and Fred and George's feelings hardly mattered to him. They would, undoubtedly, get over it. So, rather hastily, Ron jumped right into his request. "Mum, I was thinking that maybe for my present, I could get an owl. Not an expensive one, of course! Just...one, you know?" As he spoke, Mrs. Weasley's face seemed to get longer and more worried.

"Ah...Ronnie, dear...yes, well...You see the thing is I already promised Percy I would get him an owl for being made a Prefect..."

"So?" Ron was getting the impression that his promise wasn't going to be granted as he planned. A sound from behind him on the stairs told him that Ginny had come down to see how Ron was faring.

"So," said Percy suddenly, in that pompous voice he adopted whenever he spoke of himself. "Being made a Prefect is a once in a lifetime occurrence."

"Being a first year only happens once in a lifetime, too, Perce." Ron could feel himself turning red with the indignation of it all.

"Yes, but we've all been first years. It's not as if you had to work for it."

Ron glared daggers at his older brother. How dare he say such a thing?! Being selected to attend Hogwarts was an honor! That was why their mum and dad always got them children presents for it! "Yeah, and you know what?" Ron snapped out hotly. "You all got what you asked for when you were first years! Mum, please...I'll use Bill's old robes and Fred and George's used books...I'll use Charlie's old wand and cauldron! I'll even get a used owl rather than a young one! Please!"

Mrs. Weasley looked down at her shoes, as though trying to decide whether Ron was telling the truth about this newfound thriftiness. Fred and George exchanged glances with one another, both wearing rather grim frowns on their faces that Ron couldn't quite decipher. Did they think he was going to be denied? Percy was glaring at him, clearly stung that he was been snapped at by his younger brother. Ron didn't care. Percy was, as usual, being a massive git. He deserved what he got.

"Look, Ron," his mum said, her voice rather soft. This didn't sound good. "I understand why you want one, but we barely have enough money to live on. I'm very sorry dear, but I don't know if we'll be able to get something big at all. I'm thinking we can maybe afford some new brass scales, but that will have to do." She gave Ron a tentative glance, as though gauging his body language. Ron, however, did not know how to respond. He felt as though he had been slapped in the face. Not only was he denied, but he was also the first Weasley child to ever not be able to get what they wanted. This reaffirmed his earlier thoughts; he was a nobody in a sea of somebodies.

"Well, that settles it!" said Percy, satisfied.

"Shut it, Perce," Fred said, glaring.

"Yeah, seriously. For a self-proclaimed genius, you really have no tact," George commented. Usually, Ron would have felt excited for Fred and George defending him. He was usually the person they picked on most. Yet, having them on his side momentarily did not help as he wanted it to. It didn't reverse their mother's decision.

Percy seemed to finally notice just how hurt Ron was. He gave Ron a would-be reassuring look (it looked somewhat like a grimace), and said, "There, there, Ron. Don't lose heart! You can have my rat Scabbers, if you like!"

"I don't want your stupid rat," Ron managed to say. Mrs. Weasley frowned and moved forward to lay a hand on her youngest son's shoulder, but Ron dodged it. "Just...leave me alone." Turning on his heel, Ron bounded up the stairs, past Ginny, climbing up and up until he reached his newly orange room, and slammed the door.

* * *

Dinner was a tad awkward that evening. Ron's mum was clearly feeling bad about having to deny her youngest son of the present he wanted. Percy kept looking down his snobby nose at his younger brother, Fred and George kept whispering and risking glances over at him, and Ginny continually tried to engage Ron in conversation. Ron didn't feel like talking, though. Instead, he sat in his chair, his head bowed low over his food as he pushed his roast beef and potatoes around on his plate.

Mr. Weasley was the only person who didn't know what happened. He was too excited about a purchase he'd made that day in Muggle London ("They call it a torch, Molly! It's like doing Lumos, but with batterings!"), that for quite some time he didn't notice Ron's somber mood or Percy's inflated haughtiness. Midway through the meal, though, Percy seemed unable to contain his excitement any longer and announced that he was a Prefect.

"Oh, that's great, Percy!" their dad beamed, but unlike their mum, he didn't leap for joy or screech in anyone's ear. He was the level-headed parent of the two, by far, though his love of all things Muggle sometimes got him a little too passionate. "So, does that mean you got your letter, Ron?"

It took Ron a moment to register that his father said anything to him. "Oh...yeah," he said, looking up and trying to smile at his dad. Mr. Weasley was not stupid, however, and he looked around at everyone's faces with curiosity written on his own features.

"What's wrong, Ron?" he finally asked.

"Nothing," Ron lied.

"We'll talk about it later, dear." Mrs. Weasley looked over at her son sadly and back at her husband with a glance that clearly said, "We need to do something with that boy soon. He's getting out of hand."

Ron couldn't stay in the kitchen much longer after that. Excusing himself before dessert (which was very rare), he trudged up the rickety stairs of their rather crooked house, climbing up all the way to the top. The Ghoul in the attic was jumping up and down onto the door to the upper portion of the house. Rolling his eyes, Ron took a mop that was sitting on the landing and banged it noisily on the trapdoor.

"Oi! Stop it!" The Ghoul moaned, but didn't pound on the door anymore. Apparently it could even tell he was in a foul mood. Slumping into his room, Ron sank down onto his bed feeling rather depressed. This was supposed to be a happy time. He had just found out that he was going to Hogwarts today! But instead, he was so focused on how unhappy he was over the owl situation that the whole matter seemed tainted.

If he had found out that neither he nor Percy could have an owl, because of the Weasleys' financial situation, Ron supposed he would have been fine with it. It would have been fair. But having found out that he couldn't have an owl and Percy could was a rather big slap in the face. It showed what his mum really thought of him; he wasn't worth it. Ron would never be worth much, he just knew it.

He didn't know how long he laid there, thinking about the injustice of it all before the light rapping on the door pulled him out of his reverie. All he knew was that one moment, the sky had been a light pink, and the next (when he moved to answer the door), there were stars strewn across a blackened sky. Wrenching the door open, Ron was rather surprised to see his dad standing on the other end. Mr. Weasley rarely made visits to his children's rooms. Now, though, he was breaking the norm and standing there, looking grim at his youngest son.

"Mind if I pop in?" he asked in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Sure." Ron moved over to his bed in the dark room and dropped back onto it. His father flicked his wand rather casually, and the candles in their brackets suddenly flickered with new flames on their wicks. Then he joined Ron, sitting on the orange bedspread.

"We're planning on going to Diagon Alley this Saturday. You know, to get your school things."

"Great." Ron couldn't help but sound a little bitter.

"Look, Ron...I know you're upset. I don't really blame you. I've tried making it fair. I had a bit of a chat with Percy tonight, but he keeps saying that your mum promised him. You know if we say no to him, we'll never hear the end of it."

"Yeah, but still, Dad!" Ron spat out angrily. "Why is it that when he complains he gets everything he wants, but I never get anything, no matter how much I make a fuss about it?"

"I don't know, Ron," Mr. Weasley said looking genuinely saddened. "It's really not fair. He's offered to give you Scabbers. He's a good little rat." He tried to sound optimistic at this, even going so far as to pull the fat lump from his pocket. Scabbers looked like he had slipped into a coma. He didn't stir as he was removed from the tight space of Mr. Weasley's waistcoat. Ron eyed him with disgust.

"I don't want the bloody rat!" he said vehemently. "It doesn't even say we can have rats in the letter. It says either and owl, cat, or toad! And I want an owl!" He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but Ron couldn't stop himself.

"I'm sorry, Ron. We can get you an owl eventually, but for now, we just can't afford it."

"Eventually," Ron muttered, continuing to look at Scabbers with hatred. "When is eventually going to be? When I'm a seventh year? We can't afford anything!"

"Ron, that's enough," Mr. Weasley said in a dangerously low voice. Ron's dad never showed his temper, at least not in the way his mother was accustomed to. The Weasley children would know they were in serious trouble if their dad spoke to them like he currently did now. Ron had the good sense to look ashamed. "Look, I know I haven't done the best job of providing for this family, but I will not be mocked by my children. Do you understand?"

"Yes...sorry..." Ron couldn't look up at his father now. He didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"It's alright."

"It's just...sometimes..." He didn't know why he felt suddenly compelled to share this, but maybe if he did, someone might finally understand. "...I feel like I'm overlooked. I'm not as cool as Bill, as smart as Charlie, as funny as Fred or George, or as sweet as Ginny. I'm forgettable."

"Oh, Ron, that's not true!" Mr. Weasley reached over, putting a hand under his son's chin so that he could look him in his face. "You're very unique and most certainly memorable. You have no idea how happy and proud your mother and I are of you."

"Why? There's nothing special about me."

"Sure there is! You've got everything your brothers have and more! I've never seen anyone who has so much going for them! You're funny, kind, smart, cool, and passionate. You have a passion for things that none of your brothers or your sister has. I've never met a person who could beat me at chess! And I bet you anything, you have the most extensive Chocolate Frog card collection in Britain! And look at this room!" Mr. Weasley chuckled, throwing his arms outward, indicating the orange walls. "You're so unique, Ron, and you don't even know it!"

Despite himself and all his worries, Ron couldn't help but smile. He supposed, now that he thought of it, he really was different. He was passionate, and though his brothers did have their loves (Charlie loved dragons, Fred and George both loved playing pranks, Percy loved being a git), they specialized in just those. Ron was passionate about many things.

Mr. Weasley smiled back at him, clearly relieved that his words had made an impact. "So what do you say about taking poor old Scabbers here? Just for a little while, of course. We'll start saving for an owl for you."

Ron regarded the rat for a moment, shrugged, then said, "Yeah, sure." He took the rodent from his father, opened his topmost drawer (where he kept the duplicates of Chocolate Frog cards that he got) and dropped him inside. "He'll probably be comfortable enough in there. He seems to be able to sleep anywhere." His dad chuckled again, ruffled his youngest son's hair and got up to leave.

"Good night, son," he said.

Ron grinned up at his dad feeling better than he had all day. But then, it really shouldn't have surprised him. He and his dad got along incredibly well.

"Good night, Dad...love you!" Ron called to his father's retreating back.

"I love you too, son."

A/N: If anyone would like to be my beta (I'm American, and don't quite know all of the British colloquialisms), please let me know. Also, it might take me a while to update this story, as I'm currently in college. All characters and the main story (that of Harry, Ron, and Hermione protecting the Philosopher's Stone) belong to J.K. Rowling. They are her work of genius, and I'm just a huge fan.