Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

That feeling of blissful happiness that had blanketed him the previous night and that had led to a restful night's sleep didn't completely wane (after all, he was a wizard and was finally attending the school after years of watching his brothers do it), yet it was definitely tarnished a bit. The next day had not only acquainted Ron Weasley with how it felt to go to school and have assignments thrown at him, but it also introduced a new stress: Trying to navigate the school.

He had always heard from his brothers just how difficult it was to learn the way around the place. While the school's structure as far as which floors certain classes were on never changed, the staircases did. They would only lead to certain places at specific hours of the day, would vanish altogether depending on the weather, or would decide to move positions on a whim. It made getting to breakfast that Monday morning confusing, which was cause for alarm for both Ron and Harry.

"If we can't even find the way to breakfast, how are we supposed to get to class on time?" Ron had questioned angrily. Breakfast had begun at nine o'clock, and it was now 9:15. How much time did they have to eat?

"I'm keeping a log of which staircases change and when they do it," Hermione butted in. Ron couldn't help but give her an unfriendly glare. "If you want, I can make copies for you guys."

"Yeah, alright," Harry quickly agreed. It seemed to Ron that Harry just wanted to keep things friendly between the two Gryffindors. However, Ron felt that it would have been unnatural to not feel some annoyance at Hermione. She had not only interrupted their conversation, but had interrupted to tell them something highly annoying. Who in their right mind would make the effort to document all the staircases in Hogwarts? Nobody but Hermione bloody Granger, that's who, Ron thought savagely as he watched her nibble her toast.

Around 9:25, Professor McGonagall (who, Ron had found out with some dismay, was the Head of Gryffindor) came down the table and passed out schedules to every student. Skewering a sausage link on his fork, Ron silently perused his, ignoring Harry's worried expression, Neville Longbottom's groans of anxiety, and Hermione's excited squeals.

Gryffindor First Year Schedule

Monday
9:00-9:30: Breakfast
9:30-9:45: Break
9:45-10:45: Charms - Ravenclaw - Fourth Floor
10:45-11:00: Break
11:00-12:00: History of Magic - Hufflepuff - Greenhouse One
12:00-1:00: Lunch
1:00-1:15: Break
1:15-2:15: Transfiguration - Ravenclaw - Seventh Floor
2:15-2:30: Break
2:30-3:30: Defense Against the Dark Arts - Hufflepuff - Second Floor
3:30-6:00: Break
6:00-8:00: Dinner

Tuesday
9:00-9:30: Breakfast
9:30-9:45: Break
9:45-10:45: Charms - Ravenclaw - Fourth Floor
10:45-11:00: Break
11:00-12:00: Herbology- Hufflepuff - Sixth Floor
12:00-1:00: Lunch
1:00-1:15: Break
1:15-2:15: Transfiguration - Ravenclaw - Seventh Floor
2:15-2:30: Break
2:30-3:30: Defense Against the Dark Arts - Hufflepuff - Second Floor
3:30-6:00: Break
6:00-8:00: Dinner

Wednesday
9:00-9:30: Breakfast
9:30-9:45: Break
9:45-10:45: Charms - Ravenclaw - Fourth Floor
10:45-11:00: Break
11:00-12:00: Herbology - Hufflepuff - Greenhouse One
12:00-1:00: Lunch
1:00-1:15: Break
1:15-2:15: Transfiguration - Ravenclaw - Seventh Floor
2:15-2:30: Break
2:30-3:30: Defense Against the Dark Arts - Hufflepuff - Second Floor
3:30-6:00: Break
6:00-8:00: Dinner
12:00-1:00 am: Astronomy - Hufflepuff - Astronomy Tower

Thursday
9:00-9:30: Breakfast
9:30-9:45: Break
9:45-10:45: Charms - Ravenclaw - Fourth Floor
10:45-11:00: Break
11:00-12:00: Herbology - Hufflepuff - Sixth Floor
12:00-1:00: Lunch
1:00-1:15: Break
1:15-2:15: Transfiguration - Ravenclaw - Seventh Floor
2:15-2:30: Break
2:30-3:30: Defense Against the Dark Arts - Hufflepuff - Second Floor
3:30-6:00: Break
6:00-8:00: Dinner

Friday
9:00-9:30: Breakfast
9:30-9:45: Break
9:45-12:00: Potions (Double block) - Slytherin - Dungeons
12-1:00: Lunch
1:00-6:00: Free Block
6:00-8:00: Dinner

Please bear in mind that curfew for first years is set for 9:00 every night except for Astronomy class days (in which curfew will be 10:15).

Ron stared at it for a moment, trying to memorize it as best as he could. Mondays through Thursdays were practically identical, except for Herbology and History of Magic, which alternated back and forth. Fridays, of course, were most intriguing to him, though. Only one class? Sure, the class may be a double block, but the fact that they were not required to go to any class after lunch was very appealing. Ron figured that Friday would probably be the easiest, best day of the week.

Still, there was something about his schedule that didn't quite make sense. Turning to Harry, he wondered aloud, "Why does it give us fifteen minute breaks after breakfast and lunch? Wouldn't it make more sense to just give us longer to eat?"

"It's probably because they want to give us time to get to the class," Hermione interrupted again.

"I wasn't talking to you," he spat back at her.

"Sorry," she said with a shrug that clearly indicated that she wasn't actually. "I just thought I'd be helpful." Then, sticking her nose in the air, she stood up, shouldered her bag (which looked like it was already full of books) and made to leave. Then, turning back, she said, "You two better hurry up. I see you didn't bring your books with you, and we've only got seventeen minutes until class starts."

"Yeah, and I've still got two minutes to eat," Ron said to her retreating back. "Nosy little nutter."

"Yeah..." Harry mumbled looking at his schedule with increasing worry in his eyes. "I don't know...maybe she's right. We should probably head back up to Gryffindor Tower to get our stuff. I don't really fancy being late for my first class, do you?"

Staring at the rest of his breakfast longingly (he really was hungry), Ron said, "Yeah, okay." Together they got up and headed out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase.

It took them ten minutes to find the Common Room and ten more minutes to find their Charms class. Professor Flitwick, a very short man who probably had some goblin or elf in him in Ron's opinion, didn't seem too put out at their lateness. Instead, he merely trotted over to them (which took some time, due to shortness of leg and the fact that he had to climb stairs in order to get to Ron and Harry's seats at the back of the class) and handed them copies of the class syllabus. He had only just got back to the front of the class, when Neville arrived and took a seat by the door. And so the process repeated itself.

Charms set the precedent for the rest of the day. Not only were they both late to all of their classes, but it seemed that Neville always showed up after they did. None of the first years who were late were penalized, thankfully (it seemed to Ron that most everyone was late), but Professor McGonagall had made point to address the situation at the end of their first lesson.

"Now, before I dismiss you, and since I know all of you are here right now, I just want to make something clear. After Wednesday of this week, tardiness will no longer be considered acceptable. Starting on Thursday, if you are late you will have three House Points taken away. I think that's more than enough time to learn the layout of the school."

"But surely you wouldn't take points from your own House!" Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor boy whom Ron knew was half-blood, blurted out.

"Yes I would, Mr. Finnigan," McGonagall replied. "I'm not in the habit of being biased." Ron rather thought he hated that about Professor McGonagall.

Not only did Charms set the standard for how early they would arrive to class that day, but it also was the indication for how all classes were run on their first day. In Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, they discussed the syllabus, how homework was graded, and basic theory. It had become rather disappointing to them all that by the end of the day, their most heard phrase was, "Now, we won't be practicing any incantations today..."

History of Magic, it became clear, would end up being Ron's least favorite class. That Monday morning, Professor Binns had started the class not by the usual method with a syllabus and expectations, but with a brief explanation that everything in the world, magical or non-magical, had a history to it. Then, he launched right in, talking about the earliest example of recorded magic by a tribe in Africa that had carved figures with wands that appeared to be shooting flames out of them into the side a cliff face. It probably would have been fun to hear about, had it not been for the teacher. Binns, Ron quickly discovered, talked on and on in a very monotonous voice. He didn't pause for breath (he didn't really need to, since he was a ghost), which only made the time seem to go by slower and slower.

In Charms, they copied notes about the ten types of wand movements and how one of them would always be applied to every Charm they ever learned. They got to practice the movements with their wands at the end of the class, but they were not allowed to put any spell to them ("Sometimes, when you put the wrong movement to a given spell, the consequences are disastrous," squeaked Professor Flitwick). Professor McGonagall had them read a section in their text about changing similarly shaped and propertied objects. Then she had them copy notes from the blackboard, which (to Ron's frustration) said the same thing as the book. They got to actually practice a bit in that class, attempting to turn matches into needles. It was disappointingly dull work. Finally, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Quirrel had spent most of the time stuttering about the syllabus, and dedicated the last ten minutes to trying to discuss the situations in which Defensive magic might be used. Ron had barely gleaned anything from this class, as most of what Quirrel said was rather unintelligible.

Another thing that Ron noticed about his classes was that no matter what they were talking about, Hermione always seemed to have an answer. He got so sick of hearing the words, "Very good, Miss Granger! Three points to Gryffindor!" that by the end of the day, he rather felt like hitting the girl. He knew why Hermione's intelligence bothered him so much, of course. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach; the same sense of dread and frustration that he had felt for years about his own brothers. Ron was jealous of Hermione's intellect. He wished he could answer the questions like she could, wished it was he that earned House Points, and wished that he could write to his parents about how well he was doing at school.

However, it was clear to Ron after his second day that school was far more difficult than he had dreamed it would be. They had tried out a spell called the Arrangement Charm, in which they would stack a pile of parchment neatly. This was supposed to be done with the simplest wand movement, a carefree sort of wave, and saying the incantation, "Charta Disponere," but it had taken Ron eighteen attempts to get it right. Harry had managed to make his pile of parchment stack itself neatly on the ninth try, while Hermione did it with one wave. The only person who did worse than Ron was Neville, who still hadn't managed it when the bell rang for class to end, and who had been assigned extra practice.

Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, made them take notes on how to spot differences between magical and non-magical plants, then showed them a tuft of magical clovers and a tuft of non-magical clovers, to which they had to write down the similarities and contrasts. Just like Monday, they had to first discuss the syllabus and go through class rules. By the end of it, Ron thought that Herbology was nearly as boring as History of Magic, though he wondered if maybe it might get better as the days progressed. After all, didn't his mother like learning about magical plants? She had always made it look like fun. Perhaps the dullness of the first class did not reflect how the rest of them would go?

Wednesday night brought their first Astronomy class, which Ron hadn't been too keen to try out. However, when they got to the top of the Astronomy Tower (on time for once, since all the Gryffindors went together), Ron found their lesson quite fun. Professor Sinistra explained about the importance of Astronomy (a subject also learned by Muggles) to magic. About how certain potions could only be brewed when the planets or stars were aligned a certain way, how some magical plants would bloom based on lunar cycles, the use it served in Divination, and how specific creatures and their actions were guided by the stars. She gave them a rudimentary star chart, and had them spend the rest of the class mapping the solar system by spotting their positions with their telescopes. What they didn't complete, she told them, they would finish at the beginning of next lesson. When they were dismissed, Ron smiled down at his chart; he only had Neptune and Pluto (which Sinistra told them to map, even though she thought it shouldn't really be considered a planet) left.

When Friday dawned, Ron rather felt ready to be done for the weekend. While classes were most certainly instructive, he felt like he needed to give his mind a break for a while. Today, of course, brought a lot that he was excited about. Firstly, it was the day where all Gryffindor first years had the afternoon off. That meant no sitting in boring classes, no trying to do spell work (unless he wanted to do), and most especially, no hearing Hermione Granger spouting out facts about certain spells or answering questions or correcting those who couldn't quite get the incantations or wand movement right. Instead, he'd only have to put up with Hermione for two hours and fifteen minutes.

On the downside, Ron and Harry both were not looking forward to having to take Potions with the Slytherins. They had lucked out by having every class up until Friday without their rival House. Now, though, they had to face the truth: The school wasn't only made of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. Slytherins were more than just those unpleasant people who showed up at mealtimes and glared at the other tables with contempt and superiority in their features. They were their classmates.

"I hope Professor Snape is nice to me," Harry said darkly at breakfast, after sending along a letter to Hagrid agreeing that they would visit. Ron glanced over to see the greasy-haired Potions Master glaring at Harry again. Ever since the feast on the first day, the man had seemed to have taken a liking to looking Harry over with an expression not unlike the one that Draco Malfoy wore when he saw Harry.

"Fred and George complain about him all the time," Ron replied. "They complain about most teachers, though. But I have heard that Professor Snape really does prefer his House to everyone else."

From down the table, Ron heard a disbelieving scoff. Turning in the direction of the noise, he saw Hermione sitting there, looking at him with distaste. She had finally caught on to Ron's dislike of her, and was now treating him in the same way as he treated her.

"What?" he asked.

"I can't believe you. Spreading rumors about teachers...it's disgusting."

"I'm not spreading rumors!" Ron argued. "I'm just telling Harry what I know about him. My brothers say he's a git."

"Yes, well, your brothers lie about lots of things," Hermione replied hotly. Ron felt like his blood was boiling from anger. Though he knew what she said was true, nobody was allowed to talk bad about his brothers. Nobody, that was, except for him.

"I bet if perfect Percy said it you'd believe him," Ron shot at her. Harry sighed. He knew that his friend was beginning to grow tired of Ron and Hermione snapping at each other, but really, it couldn't be helped. Hermione Granger simply did not know when to keep herself out of a conversation. And besides that, Ron had tried to make it perfectly clear that he didn't want to be friends with her. Why couldn't she completely pick up on that hint and stay away from him?

"Yes, because Percy's a creditable source. Fred and George are-"

"Come on, Ron," Harry suddenly said loudly. "Let's go so we can get down to the dungeon early for Potions." Without another word, Ron stood up and followed Harry out of the Great Hall, happy that Hermione didn't try to follow.

"Sorry about that, mate," Ron apologized to Harry as they both made their way down the dungeon steps. "She just makes me so mad sometimes."

"I noticed," Harry said with a smirk. "Why is that?"

Ron didn't want to admit to Harry exactly why it was that Hermione frustrated him. Surely Harry wouldn't understand. He was already a great wizard, one that had no need to feel jealous about anyone. If Ron told him about the more than envious thoughts he'd been having about Hermione's intelligence, Harry would no doubt decide that he needed a better friend.

So, he lied...sort of. "She reminds me so much of Percy. And, you know...it's bad enough having him around. It wouldn't be so bad if she'd just stop following us around."

Harry nodded and said, "Yeah, I know what you mean. She's nice and everything, but she's there constantly."

"Exactly!" Ron quickly agreed. He didn't necessarily agree with Harry's description of Hermione being a nice person, but he did approve of the fact that Harry had finally chosen to complain about her. Up until this point, Ron had been sure that Harry thought he was being an idiot about the girl. Now he could see that she had at least been somewhat of a pest to his best friend. Now I know I'm not that crazy, Ron thought.

Potions ended up being a rather humbling experience. Severus Snape was unlike every other professor they had encountered so far. He seemed to get a thrill out of intimidating his students and was quick to tell them what he really thought of them. Within the first twenty minutes of the class, he made it perfectly clear that he thought Harry was the dumbest person alive. He snapped at Hermione for volunteering (quite emphatically) to answer every question that Harry got wrong. When he set them to working on what he called a "simple potion to cure boils" (but what Hermione said under her breath was a "ridiculously difficult" one), he made it a point to show off the talented Draco Malfoy to everyone and criticize only the Gryffindors' work.

By the end of class, Neville had long-since gone to the Hospital Wing because he had melted Seamus' cauldron and gotten their solution all over him, Harry had lost Gryffindor two House Points, and Hermione's jaw was set in a way that clearly said how much she disliked their professor. Ron had a headache.

They visited Hagrid afterwards, though, and as they slipped into easy conversation (after a brief introduction between Ron and Hagrid in which the latter explained about all the times he had to chase Fred and George from the Forbidden Forest), Ron felt the headache slowly ease up.

"So, you two...how were yer classes terday?" Hagrid had asked, wiping a tear from his eye after having a good laugh with the two friends about Filch and Mrs. Norris.

"We just had one today," Ron explained, since Harry's mouth was too full of rock cake (which Ron had discovered with dismay was hard to chew). "Potions. It was...terrible."

"Ah...lots o' people have trouble with Potions startin' out. Yeh'll get better."

"I don't know about that," Harry said, having finally swallowed the bit of rock cake. "Snape kind of made it a point to make us Gryffindors feel uncomfortable. He wouldn't stop picking on me."

"Meh..." Hagrid said with a wave of one of his massive hands. "I reckon he on'y did tha' because he wants ta make the class a challenge."

"No, Hagrid, you don't get it," Ron corrected. "He was really picking on Harry. He wouldn't stop asking him all these hard things that no first year should know."

"He was just introducin' it. Ev'ry good professor does tha'."

"But he seems to really hate me!" Harry insisted. Still, Hagrid seemed determined to brush it off.

"Rubbish! Why should he?" Ron noticed Hagrid look down at his bucket-sized cup thoughtfully as he said it. Briefly, he wondered if Snape really did have a reason to hate Harry. Though what that reason was, Ron couldn't quite pinpoint. It didn't really make sense, seeing as how Harry had only just entered the magical world. "Hey, Ron! How's yer brother Charlie? I liked him a lot - great with animals."

Ron hadn't been expecting a direct question from Hagrid. It was weird to have someone talking to him about one of his brothers. Everyone in the school seemed to only know about Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. Feeling somewhat comforted that someone actually wanted to talk to him about something other than classes, Ron replied, "He's doing well, I expect. He's working in Romania at a reservation for dragons."

"Is he really?!" Hagrid asked excitedly. "Dragons? I always wanted a dragon meself. What breeds does he work with? Does he have any specialties?"

"All sorts, actually. They don't discriminate against any breed, which he says makes the reserve unique. A lot of reserves don't allow Hungarian Horntails or Peruvian Pit-Dwellers-"

"Hagrid!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, cutting Ron off, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

"Erm...perhaps...I dunno," Hagrid began to mumble. Ron looked confused from Hagrid to Harry and back again. What was going on? "Have more rock cakes."

That night, as Ron and Harry trekked back up to the castle, dropping bits of rock cake on the way for animals to eat, Harry explained a little about his theory.

"When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, we went to Gringotts and he emptied a vault. On the same day, someone broke into Gringotts and tried to steal something, but the vault had been emptied on the very same day. What do you think the chances are that the person was breaking into Hagrid's vault?" Harry had quickly asked.

"I don't know," Ron had replied with a frown. "About one in seven million. There are tons of vaults at Gringotts and they serve thousands of customers a day. My brother Bill works there, you know, and he told me it's virtually impossible to break in."

"I know, but The Daily Prophet said it happened. Someone broke in and tried to steal something. I just think it's a little odd that Hagrid just so happened to empty his vault on the same day that someone tried to break into an emptied vault."

Ron didn't know what to think. There had to be countless empty vaults at Gringotts, let alone vaults that had been emptied that day. It seemed to him that Harry was really reaching for some significance when there was little evidence. He wanted to tell his friend that he should let the subject go, yet at the same time, he didn't want to alienate him. What if he told Harry the truth and it made him mad at Ron? He didn't want to lose his friend. So, instead he merely shrugged, neither denying the possibility nor accepting it.

"I'm just glad Hagrid moved it before the break-in," Harry concluded as they entered the castle.

Ron simply nodded.

* * *

After a very short weekend (or so it seemed), school resumed for the students on Monday. With the new week, though, came an announcement. Starting on Thursday, the Gryffindors and Slytherins would start taking Flying Lessons together on the lawn of the school at 3:30 in the afternoon. Ron had eagerly penciled at the bottom of his schedule:

Thursday, 3:30: Making the Slytherins Look Bad

Harry was just as excited as Ron, and together, they spent the entire week daydreaming about being the best in the Flying class. Though there was some anxiety on Harry's part (he had never ridden a broom), Ron's enthusiasm for flying and Quidditch seemed to ease his mind on the subject slightly. Other people were not so lucky. Hermione Granger checked out every book about flying from the Library. Dean Thomas, a Muggle-born boy who had a love for football that perplexed Ron, kept wondering aloud if it hurt to fall off a broom. Neville stopped eating at meals altogether.

When Thursday finally came, nobody could focus in their other classes. Professor Flitwick, realizing how futile it would be to try to force them to learn new spells, had them busy themselves with answering questions from the end of the first chapter in the text. Professor Binns remained unaware of his students and their excitement, and didn't even notice that most of them were either staring out the window longingly (or nervously) or were passing notes amongst themselves about Quidditch. Professor McGonagall banned all talk of flying for the entire class, saying that if she heard one word about it, she would take ten points from Gryffindor and give them extra homework. Professor Quirrel ended up canceling class due to the fact that everyone insisted on talking about flying strategies, and he couldn't get a word in.

Finally, the time came to head to the Grounds, and the Gryffindors excitedly queued up by the front doors, pushing their way outside happily. The Slytherins were already assembled on the field, and Madam Hooch, the Head of Sports and their Flying professor, arrived shortly after them.

"Good afternoon, class!" she had barked out in a rather commanding voice. "This is Flying, of course...otherwise we wouldn't have all of these brooms out here. I am your instructor, Madam Hooch. You are obliged to take these classes every Thursday from now until the end of the term. After your first year, you will no longer have this class, because it really doesn't take that long to master the art of broomstick flying. In fact, by May I want you all able to do laps around the Quidditch field without wavering.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!"

Ron had found the rest of the class to be rather boring. The school had really old broomsticks that you could only ride if you commanded them to jump into your hand. Though Ron had grown up in a poor house, he had never had to ask his broomstick to get off of the ground. He reckoned these brooms had to be over twenty-five years old.

They were just about to try to fly, when Neville had, in a fit of excitement and overworked nerves, taken off too hard before everyone else. He soared up and up, until losing his balance and falling with a very loud and earth-shattering thud. Ron grimaced at the howl of pain Neville let out, and then at the sound of Madam Hooch commenting on Neville's now broken wrist.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing!" she announced to the students. Ron gave Neville the most sympathetic face he could muster. Though he thought the boy was really rather thick, clumsy, and pathetic, he still didn't want to see him get hurt. "You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say, 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Ron watched Madam Hooch and Neville's progress back to the castle, completely focused on them. This was the second time in a week that poor Neville had to go to the Hospital Wing. Ron couldn't help but wonder how many more times in the course of the year Neville would be repeating this process.

"Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him," Malfoy's voice drawled out, pulling Ron out of his thought process.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harry said in a bitterly quiet voice. Ron looked at his best friend and then at Malfoy, who appeared to be positively affronted. Was Harry serious? Was he going to stand up to Malfoy? Well, if he was, Ron would help. Standing up tall, Ron prepared himself to jump in the fray, should it come to it.

Draco's face changed from shock to one of gleeful malice. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?" Before any of them could protest, Draco Malfoy was on his broom and in the air, holding Neville's Remembrall up in the air like a Seeker who had just caught the Golden Snitch.

And, just as quickly, Harry was mounting his own broom. Ron was too stunned for speech. Harry couldn't fly! He'd never ridden a broom in his life! Was he really thinking about following Malfoy to get Neville's Remembrall back? It was a ludicrous idea, yet he couldn't find the words to stop him.

Hermione could. "No! Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all in trouble." Harry didn't listen, though. Ron watched, helpless, as his best friend kicked off of the ground and zoomed into the sky.

It immediately struck Ron how brilliantly graceful Harry was on a broom. He looked like he had been flying for years, actually. Ron could not see Draco's face from this angle, but he imagined that the Slytherin was just as surprised as Ron was. Then, suddenly remembering the promise he had made himself about helping Harry stand up to Malfoy, Ron decided that he didn't have time to waste on being shocked at Harry's skill. He made a move for his own broom, commanding it up into his hand. He was just about to mount it when he felt a hand jerking on his tail twigs.

"Not you too!" Hermione was crying desperately. "Please, Ron, don't! You'll only make things worse!" Ron glared at her. How did she know that? Did she think he was bound to mess this up? Just because he wasn't the best at Charms or Transfiguration didn't mean that he was a complete failure!

"For once in your life, Granger, butt out!" he shouted at her. Hermione's mouth opened in shock. "I want to help out my friend!"

A gasp from the crowd around them drew their attention before Hermione could retort, and Ron saw the Remembrall streaking through the air, Harry following closely behind. He felt terror rise up through him as he noticed the Remembral begin its arc downward, speeding toward the ground at an alarming rate. He began to foresee what would happen; Harry wouldn't be able to control his dive and would crash...he would be in worse shape than Neville. And, if Madam Hooch's threat was real, there was a very good chance he would be kicked out of Hogwarts.

"HARRY LOOK OUT!!!" Hermione screeched from beside Ron. Harry didn't seem to hear. He was twenty feet from the ground...ten feet...five feet...

Somehow, he managed to catch it, brushing his fingers against the tips of the grass and pulling out of the dive miraculously. Ron let out a whoop of excitement. Harry had saved it! What was more, Harry had managed to show Malfoy and his cronies what great flying really was. Crabbe and Goyal both looked alarmingly impressed. Malfoy looked indignant.

"Alright, Harry!" Ron cheered as his friend touched ground and ran to him. Before he could give him a congratulatory hug, however, another voice cut across the landscape. A terrifyingly irate voice.

"HARRY POTTER!" Professor McGonagall called. At once, everyone was silenced. The Slytherins all smirked triumphantly. "Never - in all my time at Hogwarts - How dare you - might have broken your neck!"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor-" began a Gryffindor girl named Parvati Patil.

"Be quiet, Miss Patil-"

"But Malfoy-" Ron started indignantly. Unfortunately, he was cut off by Professor McGonagall as well.

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now." Ron watched helplessly as Harry was led off by Professor McGonagall. He wished he could go with them. If ever Harry needed Ron by his side, now was the time.

"I told him," Hermione said bitterly. "I knew he'd get himself in trouble."

"Shut it, Hermione," Ron snapped at her.

"What?!" she suddenly shouted. It was rather unexpected. Usually Hermione seemed calm; at least calm enough to argue without raising her voice. "You're not going to tell me that you think he didn't deserve to get in trouble? We were warned and he deliberately broke the rules!"

"No he doesn't deserve to be in trouble! Malfoy's the one that got on a broom first! Harry was just trying to defend Neville! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Ron exclaimed. Everyone was looking at them now, watching as Ron glared Hermione down, and as she crossed her arms defensively.

"Yes, I know about Malfoy! If you think I'd stand here and let Harry get in trouble because of something Malfoy started, you're an idiot!"

"So, what, are you going to tell on me?" Draco interrupted. Looking over at the boy, Ron glared. Even though he disliked Hermione with a passion, his hatred for Malfoy ran deeper.

Hermione drew herself up to her full height. "So what if I do?" she asked, looking haughty and, if Ron wasn't mistaken, distinctly uncomfortable. Malfoy crossed the crowd of people to stand at an intimidating distance. He was actually so close to the girl, that for a moment Ron wondered wildly if Malfoy wanted to kiss her or something.

"If you so much as think of telling on me, I'll make your life a living hell, Granger," he said darkly. Ron glanced nervously over Malfoy and his lackeys. Crabbe and Goyle were cracking their knuckles ominously, both of them smiling sadistically. Malfoy maintained his cool and calm demeanor, but Ron was sure that inside he felt a squirm of excitement to see Hermione's posture slump ever so slightly under the pressure of terrorization he was putting on her. In fact, looking at her closely, Ron could see fear growing in her eyes. Malfoy really was scaring her.

Ron hadn't planned to do what he did. He actually just did it without thinking. If he would have put thought into it, he probably wouldn't have done it; after all, he and Hermione had just been fighting only moments before. Still, with no consideration whatsoever, Ron stepped forward, pushed Malfoy's chest so that he inched backward slightly, and placed himself between the Slytherins and Hermione.

"And if you, Malfoy, so much as lay a finger on Hermione, we Gryffindors will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life." There was a general murmur of assent amongst the Gryffindors, which made Ron stand up taller than before. He looked down on Malfoy with distaste.

"Who said we were going to touch her?" Malfoy asked, pulling his wand out of the pockets of his robes.

"Go ahead," Ron commented casually, pulling out his own wand. "Try it."

"Oh yeah, Weasley? Going to protect your girlfriend, are you?" The Slytherins laughed and Ron felt his ears go red with embarrassment. If there was one thing that Hermione wasn't, it was Ron's girlfriend.

"Shut up, Malfoy," was all Ron managed to say in his embarrassment. Only a moment before, he had felt confident, bolstered by the support of his fellow Gryffindors. Now he felt weakened by the Slytherin jeering. Behind him, Hermione was eerily silent, which only made him feel more uncomfortable. Hermione had always seemed good at defending herself against Ron. He kind of wished she would help him out a little now and stick up for herself to Malfoy.

"Oh, good one, Weasley. Really clever! Of course, I wouldn't expect much else from you. Your parents probably couldn't afford to teach you anything other than how to beg. Isn't that right?" Ron felt his ears turn a brighter shade of red. All around him, his Gryffindor companions looked distinctly uncomfortable. Without thinking, Ron raised a fist, preparing himself to aim it right at Malfoy's snobby little face, when a hand flew out of nowhere and grabbed his arm by the wrist.

"Just leave it, Ron," Hermione whispered to him. He looked down at her hand on his arm, his ears (for whatever reason) burning hotter than before. Looking into Hermione's eyes, he saw that they were pleading with him, silently. He suddenly felt strangely numb. All the anger seeped out of him into the air, and all that mattered was that Hermione was begging him to stop and think before he acted. He had never liked Hermione, but in this moment, she was his voice of reason, and he quickly realized that he was going to listen to it. Dropping his hand weakly, he turned on his heel and began to stride away from the group, hoping to sit down on the grass nearby until Madam Hooch or Harry came back. But then...

"Yeah, that's right, Weasley. Walk away! You know I'm right! I heard you're so poor that your mother shops for your clothes at the bottom of dustbins!"

It was hard to explain...no matter how hard he tried to walk away from it, he couldn't. The dam that had been momentarily constructed within him when Hermione begged him to back off burst, and every hateful feeling toward Malfoy came pouring out at once. Ron's rage returned bright and hot. Nothing Hermione Granger would do could stop him, and before he knew it, he was tearing across the grass, charging at the boy who had attacked his family one too many times. Crabbe and Goyle moved to block his path and protect their comparatively scrawny friend, but Ron didn't care. He'd beat his way through the great lumps if he had to. It didn't matter to him. But before he could reach the trio, a voice cut through the air interrupting his progress.

"MR. MALFOY!!" Madam Hooch exclaimed as she strode up from the front doors. Ron skidded to a halt and watched, his expression livid, but his mind attempting to calm his body. "Ten points from Slytherin and a detention on Saturday! If I EVER hear you insult another student like that again, it'll be fifty points and a whole month of detentions!" The Gryffindors all looked to one another, giving each other half-hearted smiles. Ron merely looked down, grateful that Malfoy was in trouble, but disappointed that he didn't get to hit him at least once. "Alright, everyone, class dismissed!"

Ron walked back to the castle alone. Everyone from his House seemed to want to give him a wide berth, afraid that at any moment, he'd explode from all the mean things that Malfoy had said. Ron, however, tried to focus his mind on other things. Harry needed him right now. It wouldn't do to share with his friend about Malfoy's degrading abuse and the fact that Ron had been on the receiving end of the insults. He also didn't want to mention to Harry about the fact that it had all started because Ron was sticking up for Hermione. But most of all, he didn't want to explain to him how he had been strangely affected by Hermione's touch on his arm.

* * *

They were sprinting, their hearts pounding against their ribcages, their lungs threatening to burst with the exertion, and their minds all focused on one thing: To get away from the three-headed dog in the third floor corridor.

It had all started that evening at dinner, when Malfoy, who gave an evil glare at Ron, challenged Harry to a wizard's duel after hearing that instead of being in trouble, Harry had been invited onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron had instantly agreed to it; if there was one thing in the world he had wanted at that moment, it was to watch Malfoy get beaten twice in one day by Harry. So, they agreed to meet that night in the Trophy Room at twelve o'clock.

There were a couple of little snags, though. The first came in the form of Hermione Granger. She had tried to talk them out of going by following them waspishly out of the Common Room. When she turned around to reenter the tower, though, she had found that the Fat Lady (who guarded Gryffindor Tower and was the only means of getting into it) was gone. Next there was the matter of Neville, who had been sleeping in the corridor, waiting for someone to open the portrait and let him in. Both he and Hermione had been forced to join them, out of fear that Mr. Filch, the Caretaker, would discover them dallying about in the seventh floor corridor.

Together the quartet had journeyed to the third floor and waited for Malfoy to show. But he hadn't. Instead, after a considerable amount of time, they heard the voice of Argus Filch drift through the darkness. Malfoy had tipped him off.

Out of desperation, they slipped from the Trophy Room, and stumbled through the dark as silently as possible...at least until Neville tripped stupidly, grabbed Ron by the waist, and together they toppled into a suit of armor that clanged noisily into the silent corridor. They fled as fast as possible from the scene, all of them praying and hoping that Mr. Filch's arthritis would slow him down and that Mrs. Norris wouldn't know which way they went. Unfortunately, shortly after they came across Peeves the Poltergeist, a goofy little spirit who liked to cause as much mayhem as possible. With much delight, he screamed at the top of his lungs that there were students out of bed. The four of them dashed away, forcing their way into a locked corridor that none of them had been down - for good reason. There they had seen the very large and scary three-headed dog.

And now they were running. Ron kept throwing glances over his shoulder, terrified that the dog was on their heels. It was truly monstrous. It had to be at least ten feet at the shoulder, with each of its heads dripping saliva from its three inch long fangs.

They finally reached the portrait that led to the Common Room. The Fat Lady looked at them indignantly, as though their lateness was offensive to her. Harry panted out the password ("Pig snout,") and she swung open obligingly enough. Then, as one, the group made their way in and collapsed on the chairs by the fire.

It took a long time for them all to catch their breath. While he was waiting, Ron spent his time thinking. Why was that dog in the school? Did Professor Dumbledore know about this? Well, surely he did...that was why he had warned them all at the beginning of the year not to go into the blocked off third floor corridor. Was this part of one of his crazy experiments? Or was the dog here for another reason?

Finally realizing that these questions needed to be voiced, he looked between Harry, Hermione, and Neville and said, "What do you think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school? If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione sighed, annoyed. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry guessed in an exasperated voice. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

Again, Hermione sighed. "No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." She stood up, offering Ron and Harry both a cold and menacing look. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could have all been killed - or worse, expelled. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Wow, thought Ron, she really does need to sort out her priorities. Instead he said, "No, we don't mind." Then, turning to Harry, he added, "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

Harry, however, looked contemplative, as though something had just dawned on him. He didn't tell Ron what he was thinking as they all climbed up the stairs for bed. As Ron listened to Harry's bedsprings creak and Neville's sniffles from nearby (clearly tonight's encounters were quite traumatizing to the poor boy), Ron thought he knew what was on his friend's mind. Harry was thinking of whatever Hagrid and he had pulled out of the vault on that day to Gringotts. He was thinking that if the guard was hiding something, that had to be it.

Ron was skeptical. While it seemed a little fishy that Hagrid had indeed pulled something out of the vault on the day that a recently emptied vault had been broken into, and it was certainly weird that there was a three-headed dog standing guard over something in the school, Ron wasn't sure if the things were connected or not. The dog could be standing watch over something else, though Ron couldn't quite think of what it was.

It was hard to sleep that night. Too many things had happened. Ron was awoken twice by nightmares. The first time, he dreamed that he and Neville had been trapped in the Trophy Room with the three-headed dog. Standing above them was Malfoy, who had them attached to strings like they were his marionettes or something.

The second nightmare wouldn't have been so if it hadn't have been so confusing for him. He and Hermione were trying to learn how to fly. Ron nearly fell off in an attempt to catch Harry, who had been flying through the air, trapped inside the Remembrall. But he disappeared, and Hermione, trying to comfort Ron, had placed a hand on his wrist and whispered, "Just leave it, Ron." And everything was alright.

Except it wasn't, for when he woke up, he had been more confused than he had ever been in his life. And it terrified him.