Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Living Up to the Family Name

It was amazing how quickly Ron and Harry hit it off. All he had to do was sit across from The Boy Who Lived and get past the awkward introduction (for it was truly awkward. Ron found it was hard to contain his eagerness at learning whether the small boy actually was Harry and had kind of shouted the question out at him), and then it felt completely natural. Ron didn't know why, but there seemed to be a sort of utter honesty about Harry that made him feel comfortable in a way that he had never felt around anyone else in his life. Yes, it was safe for Ron to say to himself that he could see becoming close, if not best, friends with Harry Potter.

First and foremost, they discussed Harry's near brush with death as an infant. Ron had stared at him, his face rapt with interest, while listening to what Harry could remember of the experience. Of course, Ron wasn't sure what exactly happened when someone killed you with magic; he'd never experienced it. But still, the fact that Harry could remember green light had to mean something, didn't it? And to think, he was the only wizard in the history of magic to be able to remember having a Death Curse thrown on him. It was amazing to Ron that he was sitting here across from someone who had been so powerful at birth that they could take out the most evil and powerful wizard of his age. Harry seemed so humble about it.

Ron was a little surprised at how fast the subject changed, though. He had a million questions that he was dying to ask, but somehow, the conversation had been flipped on itself, and Ron had found himself discussing his family. He told Harry of all his fears concerning his brothers. How they were all brilliant and he was just Ron, how he had to use all of their old school things and he got nothing new for himself. Unfortunately, he ended up sharing a little more than he had originally intended to.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up," Ron had said, pulling the fat rodent from his pocket whilst trying to illustrate the fact that he got everyone's hand-me-downs, even in the animal department. "Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead." There was a brief moment when he had been sure Harry would ask about his parents' money situation or would look down on him with disdain. Ron could feel his ears turning red with the embarrassment of his own statement, and had to start looking out the window so that he could avoid eye contact. Surely Harry Potter would think Ron was inferior, now that he knew that he didn't have much money.

"Oh, that's alright," Harry said, his voice kind and encouraging. "Up until a month ago, I wasn't allowed to have anything. I had to watch my cousin get thirty-seven birthday presents while everyone forgot about mine." Ron looked up in astonishment, his mouth gaping open, outraged. Harry, however, simply shrugged as if it were no big deal. "That's why I wear these ugly clothes, actually. They're Dudley's."

"No way!" Ron exclaimed. He simply couldn't believe that someone would treat any kid that way, let alone one as famous and revered as Harry. "Why on earth...who do they think they are?!"

A small, grateful sort of smile lit on Harry's features. He shrugged again and said, "Well, they never wanted me, did they? I'm just a burden to them."

"But...but...you're Harry bloody Potter! How could they do that to you?"

"I'm not important to them. I've never been treated special. I've always just been a freak to the Dursleys. What happened to me when I was little doesn't matter to them. Actually, they lied to me about all of that. I only just found out I'm a wizard a month ago."

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had gotten the impression, of course, that Harry didn't know much about the magical world by how confused he'd been at King's Cross, but he had assumed that that was a side effect of being raised by Muggles. He had no idea that Harry hadn't even known about his being a wizard. Did that mean that he didn't know about other things, like Harry's parents being murdered or the fact that he had been very powerful at least in some way? Surely he must have realized that much; all magical kids were capable of doing extraordinary things, and they were very hard to overlook. Yet, Ron supposed, if Harry's family noticed their nephew being different, they would probably chalk it up to Harry being weird.

"So...they lied to you about everything and treated you like you were scum? Sounds like a pleasant family," Ron bit out sarcastically.

"Yeah, well...they're mine." Harry gloomily replied. "For some reason, they didn't understand that there were several things that I would have very much liked to know. And even if they did, they didn't care enough to mention it. I've never been treated right, and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know about being a wizard or my parents or Voldemort-"

Ron cut Harry off with a gasp. He'd only heard Voldemort's name said by one person, and that was with great hesitation. Mr. Weasley hadn't really wanted to tell Ron about the dark wizard, but Bill had been too scared to tell Ron his name and, being curious, Ron had asked. His father had had to whisper the words, "Lord Voldemort" to him, all the while looking panicked. It was enough to impress upon Ron that it was a name to be feared. That fear was solidified when he had come to realize when people said, "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" they meant Lord Voldemort. Everyone was terrified of just the mere mention of him, that it was quite a great shock to hear Harry drop the name so casually.

Harry, however, seemed just as bewildered by Ron's reaction as Ron was of his lack of fear. "What?" He asked, looking at Ron with a bemused expression.

"You said You-Know-Who's name! I would have thought you of all people-"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name. I just never knew you shouldn't." Harry said with another shrug. "See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. I bet...I bet I'm the worst in the class." Ron watched as Harry's shoulders slumped, seemingly being weighed down by all the worry he apparently felt. He couldn't believe it though; surely Harry knew that just because he had grown up with Muggles, it didn't mean that he would be behind everyone else. He didn't seem to be aware of this, though, as he broke eye contact with Ron and looked at the floor.

"You won't be," Ron said in a reassuring voice. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough." Harry looked back up at Ron, but he could tell that he was still feeling nervous. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I don't know anything either. Really, I don't! I mean, I know about how to use our currency and I've heard about different spells, but I haven't really tried them. I was just taught basic stuff, like reading, writing, and math when I was little. I didn't get to play with a wand or anything. So, really you're not behind at all. I bet most kids who grew up in wizarding families didn't learn any magic before now."

"Really?" Harry asked, as though not believing his ears.

"Really. And besides all that, you're bound to be brilliant. You're Harry Potter," Ron said with a shrug, trying to convey to Harry just how daft he was being by thinking he would be the worst in the class. Harry's cheeks turned a shade of pink at Ron's words, though he didn't quite know why. Perhaps he just wasn't used to all of the compliments and attention?

The food trolley came around midday, and Ron had had to watch Harry buy one of everything. For a moment, he felt rather jealous of his new friend; he wished he could afford every sweet available on the cart. Instead, he had to eat corned beef sandwiches that his mum had made early that morning; if there was one thing he hated more than any other food in the world, it was corned beef. However, Harry seemed to take pity on him, and Ron's jealousy turned to gratitude, as Harry traded a pumpkin pasty (and, eventually several other bits of candy) with Ron for the dry, disgusting sandwiches.

They spent the greater part of the rest of the afternoon going through the candy. Ron explained everything, from Chocolate Frogs ("Chocolate Frogs have cards inside of them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards") to Pepper Imps ("They burn terribly...I think you wasted your money there. Sorry, mate"), and then to Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans ("You want to be careful with those. When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor"). Harry, of course, had been rather amazed about every new thing he tried. It didn't surprise Ron at all; Harry had had to grow up on Muggle candy which was, in Ron's opinion, rather dull. Ron could tell that Harry was most astounded by the Chocolate Frog card he got (Dumbledore, which was rather unfortunate, since he was a common occurrence for the cards; Ron had really hoped that Harry would get Agrippa or Ptolemy so that Ron could complete his collection). Perhaps they could start trading them together? It was rare to find someone who cared for the cards as much as he did, and Harry had seemed absolutely enthralled about it.

A boy ended up popping his head into their compartment around three in the afternoon, asking if they had seen a toad. Ron thought he recognized the kid - had he seen him around Diagon Alley sometime? - but decided to not mention it and be proactive. Looking around their section of train knowing full well that there couldn't possibly be a toad in there (their door had been closed ever since the start of the journey), Ron looked up at the boy with a kind of sympathetic shake of his head.

"I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!" the boy said quite mournfully. Though Ron felt sorry for him, he couldn't help but also feel a little surprised. Toads were ugly, annoying sorts of pets. Did this kid actually feel that attached to his toad? If he did, Ron thought it was rather ridiculous.

As he left, Ron turned to Harry and muttered, "Don't know why he's so bothered. If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." Ron once again bestowed a look of utter revulsion upon his pet, who was fast asleep in his lap. He forgot what great roommates they'd made this summer, and was suddenly back to hating the rat's existence. Now that he was here with Harry (who had the most beautifully impressive owl in the world), he felt embarrassment over his predicament. Still, the best way he could deal with his annoyance at having this animal would be to do what Ron did best: Complain. It was easy to do, as Scabbers was ridiculous. "He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

Ron pulled out Charlie's old wand (which was now his), and made an embarrassed little remark over the state of it. It was a rather ugly wand now that he looked at it in the proper light of day. Its glossy finish was rubbing off, it was dented, and a bit of unicorn hair was even poking out the end. Ron couldn't help but wonder what exactly Charlie had done with his wand in his time at Hogwarts; Bill's and Percy's wands weren't this ill used. Had he brought it with him when he played Quidditch or something? Or was the wand's bad state a result of his love of magical creatures? Certainly he had spent more time amongst dangerous animals than most Hogwarts students. Perhaps that was it?

It didn't matter, though. Harry was watching him with wide, interested eyes, and Ron was suddenly reminded that he was going to try the spell his brothers had shown him again. Bringing up the wand, he tried to mean what he was about to cast, as Fred had instructed him. He was on the verge of speaking the incantation, when the compartment door slid open again and a rather loud, bossy, and girly voice interrupted him.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Ron looked up at the owner of the voice, annoyed. A small girl with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth stood in the doorway, the boy named Neville standing by her side in apprehension. His initial frustration wasn't with her, but with the boy, who certainly knew that they hadn't seen the bloody toad, as they had told him only a few minutes ago that they hadn't and he'd even seen them look for it.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron said. He perhaps said it a little too harshly, for Harry gave him a look that told Ron he needed to be kinder. Still, the girl didn't seem to be bothered by it. Incredibly, she was looking at Ron with a sort of fanatical interest. It was quite scary, if Ron was to be honest with himself.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then," she said, marching into the compartment and sitting across from him, as though preparing herself for an extended visit. Ron was completely bewildered. He had never met a person this forward before, not to mention someone who could suddenly make him feel this intimidated. There was just something about the way she looked from him to his wand and back again that made him feel like she was judging him. If he couldn't perform the Charm, she was going to think he was utter rubbish and not worthy of a Hogwarts education. Yes, she had to be one of those types of people. He could see it in her eyes.

Still, he couldn't just change his mind, especially now that he'd practically promised Harry to show him. Ron cleared his throat, said, "Er - all right," and lifted his wand. Every eye in the room was on him now. Even Neville seemed entranced by what Ron was about to try; Ron really wished the kid would just leave to look for his blasted toad again. It was bad enough that Harry and the unknown judgmental girl were here. He didn't need to have someone that he was pretty sure knew a great deal about magic here too (now that he'd looked at him for a longer period of time, Ron was absolutely sure he'd seen him in Flourish and Blotts on the day he'd gotten his school things).

Clearing his throat again, he swished his wand down and said rather shakily, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" Nothing happened. Ron looked up at Harry who clearly was saying with his eyes, "Better luck next time." Neville looked down at the rat, as though trying to see if there was something he missed. It was the girl who first said anything, and when she did, it was exactly what Ron expected.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She said this all very fast, and it took Ron a while to sort it all out.

So, this Hermione Granger girl didn't think Ron's Color-Changing Charm was real. Well...maybe it wasn't? After all, it had been given to him by Fred and George. Now he supremely felt like an idiot, but he tried his best not to show it. Instead of looking affronted at her hint of an accusation, he said, "I'm Ron Weasley."

While Harry introduced himself and Hermione began to go on and on about all that she had read about him (Ron had a feeling that this was going to get annoying very fast), he went over everything that she told him. Unfortunately for him, she seemed incredibly smart. Not only had she been able to succeed with all the spells she practiced, but she also had learned all of their textbooks by heart. How was that even possible? Ron had no clue; their books were all very thick. How could anyone have the dedication to actually read and memorize all of them before the term started?

As he sat there, watching and listening to her drone on and on about all she knew, Ron suddenly came to the realization that he was not going to be best in their class. It wasn't as if he had been really hoping for this sort of distinction, but it would have made him feel better about himself; his mother always gushed over the smart ones. Would she act the same way about his grades as she had about Fred and George's? He didn't think he could bear it if she did.

Hermione asked what Houses they supposed they'd be in, but before he could say "Gryffindor" she declared that she wanted to be in it. Oh God, no! He thought, looking her up and down. Ron could only imagine what it would be like to have to live in such close vicinity to her. It would, actually, be quite a bit like having a younger, more female version of Percy around. Since Percy already belonged to Gryffindor, Ron figured that they certainly didn't need another one.

"You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon," Hermione said bossily as she waltzed her way out of their compartment, her nose held up in the air and her curls bouncing. Ron couldn't help but scowl after her. He really didn't like being told what to do, but he set to the task of opening his trunk for his robes.

"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," he said, tossing his wand down on the seat next to the unconscious Scabbers. Harry smiled at Ron, but Ron had the notion that Harry wasn't as bothered by that Hermione Granger girl as he was. Perhaps it was because she was clearly smarter than he was, and he'd been involved in magic ever since birth, or it was her bossy, Percy-like attitude. Whatever it was, Ron knew that he officially did not like that girl.

* * *

"You never answered my question, you know," said that annoying voice that Ron Weasley had associated with that bushy-haired girl on the train. Sure enough, as Ron turned around to investigate the sound as he strode down the path behind Harry and Hagrid, he saw the vague shape of Hermione Granger. He had thought he had escaped her after the whole Draco Malfoy experience on the train (Ron had come to appreciate Scabbers again, because he had bit Malfoy's friend's finger after Malfoy had insulted Ron's entire family). Hermione had thought it was important for her to discover exactly what had happened. Thankfully, Ron had got up the courage to be rude to her and she had left.

Now, though, it seemed like she had forgotten her annoyance with him. At a moment when it was most inconvenient for her to bother him, she suddenly wanted to have a chat. It really was ill-timed; everyone was walking down a long path from where the train station was situated. Ron assumed that the path would lead them to Hogwarts, but he couldn't be sure. Needless to say, the anticipation of it all was killing him, and Hermione's question was like an irritating fly at the moment. Pretending he didn't hear her, Ron quickened his pace in order to keep up with his friend and the massive Hagrid.

Just as he sped up, though, so did she. One of her fingers suddenly jabbed him in the lower back, and he heard her sigh with an audible sort of huff as he tried to ignore her again. Finally realizing that this tactic was getting him nowhere (and that he'd have to full-out sprint in order to escape her), Ron slowed slightly and turned his head so that he was still looking forward, but also paying attention to her.

"What question?!" he hissed at her.

"What House you'd prefer to be in," she said excitedly. "From what I heard about your family on the train, I think you'd be perfect for Gryffindor. I mean, your brothers have all been in it-"

"Who the bloody hell have you been talking to?" Ron asked, feeling a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. Why did she want to know so much about him? Was it because she liked to learn and was nosy, or was it because she was just plain creepy? Ron had the very distinct impression that he already had a stalker at Hogwarts. It was strange, because he would have expected Harry to have one before him. Well, he thought. That just shows how much I know.

"I met your brother Percy on the train," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "He was impressed about a simple Repairing Charm I performed. Anyway, when he told me his last name was Weasley, I asked about you."

"Why?"

"Because I was curious."

"Well, stop being curious," Ron said, feeling even more put-off now that he knew that she had spoken to Percy. Had he told her about the owl situation?

"I can't help it, that's just how I am," she whispered. "So what House?"

Ron sighed. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? Why couldn't she bother Harry, Neville, or, best of all, Draco Malfoy? Surely they weren't being bothered enough! With a feeling of envy, Ron spied Harry trotting a few paces ahead of him, seemingly unaware of his friend's predicament.

"I don't know...Gryffindor, I guess," Ron spat out.

"I hope it's Gryffindor, because if I get in Gryffindor, too, then you and I will be in the same House!" Hermione said quickly. "You know, Gryffindor is named after one of the founders of the school, Godric Gryffindor. He's remembered for his bravery and calm attitude in the face of danger. I just think that's so admirable, don't you?"

"Yep," Ron replied, in a weary and defeated voice. He had a feeling there was no stopping her now.

"He also chose the lion to symbolize Gryffindor House, because it was an animal that signified nobility. It was also an animal that he could transform into at will. It was his favorite creature in the world. I think part of the reason is because of his last name. A griffin is a creature that is half-eagle, half-lion. He loved the lion aspect of his name."

After a while, Ron stopped listening, not even bothering to feign interest. Instead, he looked excitedly up ahead at a curve in the path. Something told him that once the road turned, they would actually get a glimpse of their destination. He could now smell something that resembled the scent of his Auntie Muriel's trout pond. Were they near a lake or something? The scent of water, weeds, and fish permeated the air, and excitement rushed through him. They had to be close...he could feel it in his bones.

"Ravenclaw, however, has the symbol of an eagle. It's not clear why Rowena Ravenclaw chose an eagle rather than a raven as her House's symbol, but I think it was because she felt that eagles were more intelligent, though it's been proven that ravens are actually smart birds in general," Hermione was whispering excitedly behind him. It seemed the closer they got to the bend in the road, the quicker she spoke. Ron didn't mind too much; he wasn't really listening, so it didn't matter to him one way or another how fast she was speaking. He couldn't help wondering, though, how she had jumped from Gryffindor to Ravenclaw like that. Maybe she had said all she knew about Gryffindor and just wanted to keep talking? Something in him doubted this, though. Hermione Granger seemed like the type of girl who knew everything about everything.

She talked on and on until they finally turned and got their first view of their school - a great castle set into a mountain overlooking (Ron saw with satisfaction) a lake. The entire group of first years who had been marching the path now gave a collective gasp. The castle combined with the surrounding landscape really did paint an impressive picture. It was so impressive, in fact, that Hermione Granger was thankfully struck dumb by the very sight of it. Ron thanked God, Merlin, and the great founders of Hogwarts for having created something that could effectively shut the girl up.

"No more'n four ter a boat!" Hagrid called to the students. It was only now that Ron realized that there were boats waiting by the lake's edge to take them to the castle. He hastened after Harry, eager to get away from Hermione as fast as he could. To his dismay, she and Neville followed them into their boat.

Hagrid called out a command, and suddenly, the boats were being propelled forward by an unknown, invisible force. The sight of the castle and the wilderness around them still had that silencing effect on everyone. It was as though they all feared that speaking would wake them from this wonderful dream world that they were each entering.

Surprisingly, the occupants of the boats remained quite silent for the whole of their journey across the lake. Even Hermione refrained from speaking, as the boats cut smooth ripples in the glass-like surface of the water. Hogwarts' towers came closer, the lights seemed to grow, and before Ron knew it, they were having to duck to keep from bumping their heads on the roof of a low-hanging cave that led them all to an embankment situated beneath the school.

As they climbed the steep stone steps up the rock face, Ron was suddenly struck with a realization. He really had made it here. He was climbing up toward his school, a place beyond the Burrow that he could call his home. For the first time, Ron felt like he truly belonged to the wizarding world.

* * *

That sense of belonging didn't last as long as Ron wished it would. He found himself following Harry once again, Hermione trailing close behind repeating to herself all the useful spells she knew, into what Professor McGonagall called the Great Hall. Within this hall, they would be Sorted into their Houses. Ron felt anxiety course through every fiber of his body. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting all day for. Would he be in Gryffindor, like every other Weasley in known history? Or would he be the exception, the person they didn't mention out of shame, because he'd failed to fill the role they wanted him to play?

Surprisingly, most of all, Ron wanted to know why on earth the administration at the school allowed a ceremony that involved people losing lots of blood to occur right in their Great Hall, in front of the entire student body? As they passed through the doors, Ron saw Fred and George sitting at the farthest table, against the wall. They gave him two thumbs up, and he felt like he was going to be sick. Had they bled much? Did they have to have their blood replenished?

He had fought off the fear of an unknown task where he lost a lot of blood all day by telling himself that Fred and George were experts at lying. They made giving Ron false information a sport. So, he naturally had thought it wasn't true. Now that he was here, marching between what appeared to be the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables with Hermione frantically whispering Defensive spells, he wasn't so sure. After all, didn't Hermione Granger know everything? She seemed like she did. What if she had heard the same thing? What if she had a spell for replenishing blood? Oh, how he wished he'd memorized his textbooks!

They got to the front of the room too quickly. Ron stood next to Harry, staring at Professor McGonagall (who was intimidating enough without the prospect of a potentially deadly Sorting in the near future) much as a prisoner stares at his judge. His eyes were downcast, his posture slumped. If anything, he certainly didn't feel like a Gryffindor in this moment.

A stool was produced from somewhere (Ron was too focused on trying to not get sick that he didn't see where it came from), followed quickly by an old, tattered hat. Ron stared at it, confused. Why did they do that? Was the hat supposed to symbolize something? Maybe it was for the person or creature they were supposed to fight? Glancing around the hall, Ron saw that all eyes, save for a few confused first years, were on the hat. His own were just about to swivel slowly back to it, when the hat suddenly bellowed out.

At first, Ron didn't know what was going on. He was so bewildered by the fact that the hat was talking to them that he didn't catch its words. At the sound of the word, "Gryffindor," though, Ron's attention was captured.

"Where dwell the brave at heart, their daring nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart." Ron felt the pressure in his stomach increase as butterflies seemed to flap intensely in the pit of it. Brave, daring, chivalry...did Ron possess those qualities? Do my brothers? Well, no...not that Ron knew. Sure, they had their moments of bravery, but it seemed to him that they were just...normal. Like Ron, really. What if the Weasley boys were only being placed into Gryffindor because they had a history of being in that house? What if personality really didn't have much to do with it? Then chances are good that I will be a Gryffindor! thought Ron excitedly.

"So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) for I'm a Thinking Cap!" The crowd burst into applause as the hat became quite still. Most of the first years were too nervous to clap; Harry hit his hands together once, but Ron didn't clap at all. So, that was really all they had to do? Put on a ripped up hat? Ron turned as covertly as he could to glare at Fred and George. They offered him mischievous grins. Prats.

They were Sorted alphabetically. The first person to approach the hat, Hannah Abbot, was placed into Hufflepuff. Ron was a little surprised at the proud round of applause that rang through the hall from the table for the girl; he would have thought this would be more of a formal process.

As the Sorting continued, Ron noticed that some people seemed to sit for a while with the hat on their head, and others not long at all. One of the people who seemed to take a while was Hermione Granger. Ron peered curiously up at her, happy that he couldn't see her face since the hat had slipped down over her eyes. Every now and then, the hat would say, "Hmmm," but beyond that, nobody could tell what was happening. Then--

"GRYFFINDOR!!" the hat shouted. Hermione jumped up, took the hat off, and beamed at the room. Ron groaned loudly and watched her walk toward the table. She sat down next to Percy happily. It made him feel sick; now there were two of them in his life.

Draco Malfoy, however, was one of those people that it took no time at all to Sort. The hat barely brushed the tips of his slicked back hair when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" The table closest to the door gave the haughty boy a standing ovation, and as he passed by, Draco gave Ron a look of disgust.

"Good luck getting Sorted that easily, Weasley," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Before Ron could retort, however, he was all the way over to the Slytherin table. Feeling angry, Ron wondered what Malfoy could possibly mean by it. Did he know something Ron didn't know? Or was he just aware of exactly how scared Ron felt of the Sorting?

Harry went shortly after Malfoy. The hat seemed to either want to take its time with Harry, or genuinely confused over where Harry would be best placed. Ron crossed his fingers; if Harry ended up somewhere other than Gryffindor, what would he do? Hang out with Hermione and that Neville Longbottom guy (who had also been made a Gryffindor)? No, Ron couldn't put up with them alone. Now that he knew him, had spent a fun and wonderful day with him, Ron knew that he needed Harry to be in the same House with him. After a while, Ron noticed Harry murmuring to himself, his lips being barely discernible from underneath the hat. What was he saying? Could you really talk to the Sorting Hat? If so, could Ron ask to be put in a specific house?

"GRYFFINDOR!!" the hat called, making Ron jump. Relief swept through him, as he watched his friend hastily remove the hat and head over to the table that Ron hoped to head to soon. Like the Slytherins had done with Malfoy, the Gryffindors were all standing up and cheering excitedly for Harry. At least he deserves it, Ron thought with a smile.

It took forever for the hat to get through the rest of the first years to him. For the first time in his life, Ron really hated his last name. He wished with all his heart that his name began with an earlier letter so he could just get this test over with. Finally, though, his patience (or lack thereof) was rewarded, as Professor McGonagall called, "Weasley, Ronald!"

Ron stumbled slightly on his way to the stool, and fumbled with the hat as he tried to find the right way to put it on. Finally, he managed to both sit and jam it on his head, feeling it slip uncomfortably down over his eyes, blocking the mass of people in the hall from view.

"Oh, a Weasley," the voice of the hat whispered in his ear. "How original."

Ron felt himself get annoyed with the hat's sarcastic tone. Just Sort me, he thought back at it.

"Hmm...You're an interesting one. I always put Weasleys in Gryffindor, because they are very brave, but you..." Ron felt his stomach clench uncomfortably as he waited for the verdict from the hat. He just knew it was going to say something he didn't like; more than likely, it would tell him he was a Hufflepuff. "...You are the first one in a long time that really embodies all of the qualities of a Gryffindor. Brave, bold, chivalrous, romantic, kind yet quick to defend or fight if you need to. Actually, you're the type of student Godric Gryffindor would die to have in his house...well, then, it'll definitely have to be...GRYFFINDOR!!" The last part was shouted to the room at large, and Ron's shaky hand quickly darted to his head to pull the hat off. He couldn't help but grin widely as he bounded for his table; he was a Gryffindor.

But as he sat down and waited for the rest of the students to be Sorted, Ron couldn't help but wonder if what the hat had said was right. Was he really a true Gryffindor, through and through? Or did it always compliment the person who was wearing it? Briefly he wondered about asking Harry about his experience with the hat, but Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of the school, was now addressing the students. As food magically appeared on the plates in front of them, Ron's stomach gave an almighty rumble, and he decided that his question would just have to wait.

* * *

Dear Mum and Dad,
I'm in Gryffindor! I was so excited when it happened that I nearly tripped in front of the whole school! This has been, by far one of the best days of my life. Not only did I make it into Gryffindor, but now I'm friends with Harry Potter! Fred and George were right - that WAS him on the train. We spent the whole ride up to Hogwarts together. He's a really cool person, Mum. And you'd think he's great too, Dad. He knows all about Muggle stuff, because he was raised by them (though from what he told me, the ones he lived with are like Muggle-Slytherins. They only like Muggles and hate wizards. Harry didn't know that he was a wizard until this summer!). Anyway, it's really late and I should try to sleep. It's kind of hard, because I'm so excited.
Love,
Ron.

Ron stared at the note he penned to his parents in the light of the fire. All the other Gryffindors were tucked safe in their beds right now. Ron, however, was too wound up to sleep. Too many good things had happened today; in fact, all the good now officially outweighed the bad (meeting both Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy was now out of his mind, ancient memories, it seemed). Having finally given sleeping up as impossible, Ron had quietly grabbed a quill, ink bottle, and parchment, and set to work on his letters in the Common Room. After perusing the first letter, he turned to the second.

Dear Ginny,
You know that squealing that you hear right now? You know, the excited one that is, no doubt, coming from Mum? Yeah, she's doing that because I'm a Gryffindor! Fred and George lied about the Sorting. It's not painful and you definitely don't lose blood. Something weird did happen during mine. The thing that Sorts us told me that I'm like a true Gryffindor...that the founder of the House would have died to have me in it. I was really shocked, because I'm just Ron. I'm not special! I wonder if it said the same thing to Harry Potter too? I mean, he's far more special than me. He's probably braver than I am too. I'm scared of spiders! I doubt Harry is...

Which reminds me...guess who's my friend? Harry Potter! He's SO cool, Gin! You'd love him (more than you already do, that is). I think when you come here and get Sorted into Gryffindor (which you will), you should hang out with Harry and me. By then we'll know everything about the school. Plus, you'd be really awesome, because you'd have Harry Potter as a friend.

Well, I should try to sleep now. Classes start early apparently. I'm nervous about them. I've never taken a class in my life! Hopefully I'll do well and make Mum and Dad proud.
Lots of love,
Ron

He knew it wasn't the most eloquent letter in the world (toward the end of it he got a little scatterbrained), but he thought it would do. He wished that he could write exactly what it was that had placed him into Gryffindor, but when he went to write the words, "Sorting Hat" he had found that it was impossible. His hand wouldn't form the letters. When he tried on a separate, scrap bit of parchment (the remnants to a bad version of the letter to his parents), he found he could write them, but when he tried to say it to Ginny, he had been unable to. Ron figured the only explanation for this was some sort of binding magical contract; those who were Sorted couldn't tell a non-Sorted student exactly what the Sorting was like. After all, it would take all the fun out of it.

Stretching, Ron stood up and folded the letters. It was probably one or two in the morning now. Ron knew from the constant nagging of Percy that classes began at ten; if Ron went to bed now, he could wake up at nine and have seven full hours of sleep, at least. Yes, Ron knew now was the perfect time for bed.

Heading over to the door that he now knew led to the boy's dormitories, Ron smiled. Upstairs was a nice, comfortable bed waiting just for him. There was no doubt in his mind that it would be easy to pass out in now; it felt like it was made for him, not too firm, not too soft. And besides that, he officially felt that he had written all of the excitement out of him. Right now, nothing sounded better to him than bed.

His grin widened as he snuck back into the first year boy's room and slipped under the warm, comforting covers. This place felt like home already.