Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Five:
Study Buddies

Dear Ron,
Sorry it took me forever to get this letter to you. Dad and I were out at the hardware store in Ottery St. Catchpole when Hermes arrived with yours and Percy's letters. By the time I got back, she was gone and Errol was really sick. I had to wait for him to get better (don't send him back with your reply, by the way...Mum says he needs to rest).
I'm so excited for you! I knew you'd make it in Gryffindor, of course. You're a Weasley, Ron. We all make it in there. That's weird what you heard during your Sorting, though. So, what, did it say you were the perfect Gryffindor? How often does that happen? Are all of us Weasleys perfect Gryffindors, or what? Is it just you? I'm terribly confused about this, Ron. I wanted to ask Mum and Dad about it, but then they showed me the letter you wrote for them and I realized you hadn't mentioned it, which made me think that you didn't want them to know. Why don't you want them to know, Ron? Are you ashamed? What's wrong with you?!
That last part is a joke, by the way. I don't think there's anything wrong with you. Actually, I think it's really cool.
I do have a question. What do you mean by "the thing that Sorts us?" What is the Sorting like? I've been dying to know...you're not going to tell me that it's none of my business like Percy does, are you? And please don't lie to me like Fred and George. I just want to know. I think it's my right, really, since I've had to watch all of my brothers go off to school one by one. It sucks being the youngest.
And finally...HARRY POTTER IS YOUR FRIEND?!?!?! How did that happen? Did you search for him the minute you got on the train or something? Or did Fred and George introduce you? What's he like? Is he funny? Is he smart? What color are his eyes? I bet he's really sweet...There aren't any girls that have crushes on him at Hogwarts, is there? Do you think he'd like me? Like a friend, of course...not like a girlfriend or anything. Has he said anything about me? Does he remember me from the platform?
Anyway, tell me about your classes! What are the professors like? Are you doing well?
Sorry for all the questions. I'm bored here by myself.
Love,
Ginny

Ron read the letter in open-mouthed wonder. His letter that he had sent to Ginny on the first day of term had definitely been short in comparison. What amazed him more than anything were all the questions, particularly those pertaining to Harry. She really was obsessed, wasn't she?

Feeling embarrassed over his sister's lack of tact, Ron hastened to fold the letter up and stuff it into his bag. Though he was one of only four Gryffindors who were currently at the table in the Great Hall, he really didn't fancy how the others would react if they saw that he was practically carrying a love note from his sister to his best friend. I'd never be able to live that one down, he thought.

Ron had woken up very early that Friday after his terrible night of sleep. Not wanting to wake Harry, he had tiptoed out of their dormitory, down the steps, and into the common room. There, he had stared into the fire for a while, thinking of everything that he had been through in the last day. Then, realizing it was almost breakfast, he crept upstairs again, got dressed, grabbed his books, and headed for the Great Hall, all the while continuing to think things through. The most important issues that kept resurfacing were those surrounding the object at Gringotts and Harry's fascination with it and those surrounding Hermione.

Though he wanted to feel curious about the break-in and Hagrid's awkward attitude about it, Ron felt more inclined to think on the fight with Malfoy and Hermione touching his arm. He couldn't quite figure out why it had affected him so much. One minute he had been angrier than he had ever been before, and the next he had been calm, simply because she grabbed his arm and begged him to be. What was most troubling, though, was that up until that moment, he had been so sure that he hated her, but now he didn't know. Even after the events of last night, when she had insisted that they not go out and meet Draco for their duel and then followed them (which had really infuriated Ron), he still wasn't sure about how he felt. Part of him wanted to keep hating her; it was easy enough, considering how often she insisted on showing off and butting in. But another part was rather insistent on him throwing aside his dislike of her and offering friendship. It was an odd sort of thought, one that actually surprised him as he came to it.

Ron had never really liked people like Hermione...or at least he never thought he would. Really, he had only ever really been around his family. A person like Hermione (smart, rule-abiding, strict) had always seemed like the type of person he'd want to stay away from. In truth, she really was like Percy. But still...the way she had made him feel when she touched his arm - calm, relaxed, and oddly distracted from his anger - made him reconsider it all. Should he try to be nicer to her?

Ron stared toward the doors to the Great Hall, not really seeing them, lost in thought. Absently, he stroked Errol's feathers (the poor owl had collapsed onto the table, and Ron had gently pulled him into his lap to comfort him), and thought over it all. Today, if he could, he would try to be a better person to Hermione. After all, he owed her. If she hadn't have stopped him from hitting Malfoy, he may have been the one with a detention.

Students began to file into the Hall in greater droves. The more students who crowded in, the more Ron's thoughts were interrupted. By the time he saw Harry emerging from behind a group of third year Ravenclaw girls, Ron had abandoned trying to focus on the Hermione situation. He watched as Harry crossed the room, a relieved sort of smile spreading across his friend's cheeks.

"There you are!" Harry said with a sigh, collapsing in the seat across from Ron. "I was worried about you." Whispering, Harry added, "I thought maybe you got curious and went back to the third-floor corridor to check it out."

"Why on earth would I do that?!" Ron asked incredulously.

"I don't know...I was tempted," Harry said, shrugging as he reached for a plate.

"Yeah, well, you're insane." Ron offered Harry a friendly smile which Harry returned.

"What's that?" Harry asked, nodding toward the unconscious owl in Ron's lap.

"Oh...this is Errol. He's my parents' owl. He's really ill right now...my sister probably shouldn't have sent me a letter."

"Your sister?" Harry squinted, as though trying to peer into the past to see if he could remember just who Ron's sister was.

"Yeah...you met her on the platform. Ginny. She says hi, by the way," Ron stated.

"Oh...really? Erm...tell her I said hi back." Harry turned down to his plate and began to load it up with toast and bacon, looking positively bewildered. Ron felt like laughing; if only Harry knew exactly why Ginny wanted to say hi to him. He was quite positive that it would surprise Harry to hear that his story had been told much like a fairytale in the Weasley household and that because of this, Ginny had gotten a huge crush on him.

A few minutes later, Ron's eyes were shifted over to the door again, as he watched Hermione enter. He felt compelled to jump up and offer her a seat near them, but his body wouldn't obey the command. Seeing his eyes on her, Hermione glared at him, stuck her nose in the air, and moved as close as possible to the head of the table, near the front of the Hall and as far from them as she could. Ron felt his stomach sink dreadfully, but also felt relief sweep over him.

"I hate that we have Potions today, but at least we don't have to put up with Hermione," Harry said with a smirk. Ron smiled back, though he didn't necessarily feel like it. He wanted to be nice to her, not encourage her being angry with him! At the same time, though, he didn't know if he could put up with Hermione long-term. Feeling unsure, Ron decided to let Harry's reaction be his guide. Since Harry was happy that Hermione was angry and staying away from them, Ron would be.

"So, what do you think about the dog?" Harry asked in a low voice.

"I dunno..." Ron said, confused. "I can't help but wonder how you get them to have three heads, I guess..."

"No! Do you think it's guarding that package?"

"Oh!" Ron said, relief sweeping over his face. For a second there, he had thought that Harry was considering getting a three-headed dog of his own. "Well, I don't know, Harry. To be honest, we still don't even know if that package was the one that the person was trying to steal at Diagon Alley."

"Listen, Ron," Harry said seriously, leaning closer so as not to speak too loudly. "I know you're not sure. But let's just look at the facts. When I first met Hagrid, he told me that the safest place in the world to keep something is at Hogwarts. That day, he took a package from Gringotts. He wouldn't tell me what was in the package. The vault didn't even have a key - it had to be opened with magic! We ended up emptying the vault on the very same day as the break-in. Hagrid acted all weird when I mentioned the break-in, and there's a three-headed dog in the castle standing guard over a trapdoor. Doesn't all of this seem...odd to you?"

"I guess..." Ron said. Truthfully, when all of the evidence was presented to him as Harry just said it, Ron couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement in his gut. Harry was right; something weird was going on at Hogwarts. But what? "I mean, yes, you're right. It's all very strange. It's just...how can we prove that the two are related?"

"I think we should talk to Hagrid more," Harry suggested.

"Yeah...I mean, I like Hagrid, but he seems like the easiest to get answers from of anyone here." Ron tried not to imply what he was really thinking. Hagrid was sweet, but also a bit dim, in his opinion. He would probably be easy to convince into letting information that he wasn't supposed to tell slip.

It was weird, but for all of Ron's skepticism, he suddenly felt really excited about this mystery Harry was inviting him in on. He doubted any of his brothers had ever discovered a three-headed dog in the school. What was more, he knew that none of them had ever been involved in anything more than school work, Quidditch, and playing pranks. He, Ron, was the first to ever go on a proper adventure while at Hogwarts. It made him feel amazing.

Digging into a plate of eggs, Ron began to think about this unknown package of Harry's. "If they are hiding it in the school, it's either really valuable or really dangerous."

"Or both," Harry replied darkly. Ron nodded, feeling slightly nervous at the prospect of what he was getting into. Still, the excitement far outweighed the trepidation, and it was with a bit of a smile that he looked up toward the ceiling in time to watch the rest of the owls (Errol had been there pretty early considering how sick he was) stream through the large top window in the hall.

"Bloody hell, what's that?!" Ron exclaimed, his eye following the progress of a large flock of owls. They were all clutching one very big parcel, circling the four tables in a wide arc, roughly knocking into several unlucky owls who got in their way.

"I dunno," said Harry. Glancing down for the briefest of moments, Ron saw he was watching their progression with a sort of bemused fascination. Everyone else in the Hall were pointing, staring, and preparing themselves, just in case it was actually a present from their parents. Remarkably, though, the parcel was dropped right in front of Harry, whose plate of bacon was knocked to the floor. "This is for me?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Open it!" Ron encouraged. He was dying to know just what it was that Harry had received.

With trembling fingers, Harry detached an envelope that had come with the parcel. While he read the letter, Ron tried to guess what it would be. It had to be Quidditch-related, considering that only yesterday Harry had been invited on the team. But then, it had to be a broom. Seeker equipment was typically small; fingerless gloves, knee and elbow pads, and a tiny Golden Snitch were all that Seekers used. What kind of broom would it be then? Ron considered; surely the school would, at the most, pay for a Comet Two-Sixty. Or, it could have been a Cleansweep...Ron had read that there was a rumor in the Quidditch world that the company was planning on making an eighth model.

Looking from the note and up to Harry, Ron wasn't wholly surprised to see his friend beaming. "Read it," Harry said, passing the note to Ron. Ron had to squint to make out the smooth handwriting of Professor McGonagall (he was too used to his own untidy scrawl), but didn't have to read very far down the parchment. As soon as he saw the words, "Nimbus Two Thousand," Ron's jaw dropped. Not only had Harry gotten a new broom...he had gotten the number one broom in the world.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron said in an awestruck whisper. "I've never even touched one!"

"Let's go up to the dormitory so we can open it," Harry whispered. Ron nodded, and together they headed out of the Hall.

They were held up for a moment, because Draco Malfoy wanted to make sure Harry remembered that brooms weren't allowed at the school. Thankfully, the encounter didn't last long, because Professor Flitwick approached to not only stop an impending fight (Malfoy had, once again, made fun of Ron's family's poverty), but to congratulate Harry on his "special circumstances."

"What model is it?" Professor Flitwick inquired.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir. And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," Harry had said, with a mean sort of grin playing at his lips. Malfoy looked livid. Ron fought hard to fight back laughing as they both trotted merrily away from their Charms professor and their sworn enemy. He managed only until they had fully mounted the marble staircase, and then, unable to keep it in, he burst into unrepressed chuckles. Harry laughed along.

"Well, it's true," Harry commented happily. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came a snobby voice that they both immediately recognized. Though he had been conflicted about her earlier, Ron felt that familiar stab of annoyance and dislike. Turning to face her, he couldn't help but sneer.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" Harry asked her in a voice that was very uncharacteristically Harry. It sounded as if Hermione had finally gotten on his last nerve too. Ron didn't blame him; why did she insist on lecturing people all of the time? Why couldn't she just learn to loosen up and live a little? Or at least let other people live and stop being so nosy and bossy all the time.

"Yes, don't stop now," Ron added. Though only twenty minutes ago, he had been more than willing to offer to be her friend, he no longer felt that. He was actually infuriated with her, as he remembered her frantically grabbing onto the tail of his broom to keep him from helping Harry. "It's doing us so much good."

Hermione looked slightly hurt, as though she had not expected such mean remarks from the two people she had actively shunned this morning. Sticking her nose in the air (something she was getting very good at doing), she turned and vaulted down the stairs. Ron, surprisingly, felt very little remorse.

Thank Merlin.

* * *

It was a boring sort of night. Harry was out learning how to play Quidditch with Oliver Wood (the Gryffindor Quidditch captain), and Ron had spent the first half an hour of it trying to figure out what to do. At first, he considered spending time with his dorm-mates Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, but they were too busy talking about how pretty Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were, and it made him feel uncomfortable. He considered calling Neville over and asking if he wanted to work on Herbology homework with him, but then he figured that would end up being disastrous. Finally, he decided to take another look at his sister's letter and then write back, answering most of her questions (the majority of those pertaining to Harry would remain unanswered, since he really didn't fancy asking around to see if any girls liked him or staring deeply into his best mate's eyes to figure out their color).

He had been writing for fifteen minutes, when he finally decided to read over what he had.

Dear Ginny,
I tried writing to you what did the Sorting, but my hand wouldn't let me. I know that might sound strange, but I think there's some sort of spell put around the words to keep people who have been Sorted from telling people who haven't how it works. It would certainly explain a lot, wouldn't it?
I haven't gotten a chance to talk to anyone about what it said to me. The thing is though, I've been thinking that maybe I AM unique. I mean, school has been hard and I'm not doing as well as I wanted to, but I am different in other ways. Harry and I have already had a few adventures. Harry's now on the Quidditch team because he stood up to Draco Malfoy in Flying class and impressed our Head of House. I'm surprisingly not jealous. I don't fancy playing Seeker, you know? I also got in a fight with Draco Malfoy, but I didn't get anything special. Malfoy just ended up with a detention for being mean to me. I won't tell you what he said...it would just make you angry.

Ron stared at what he had written, his brows furrowed in concentration as he considered what to write next. Part of him wanted to tell Ginny about Hermione Granger, to complain about her nosiness and talk about being genuinely jealous of her, but he wasn't sure. Should he admit that to Ginny? He had always been honest with his sister, but now that he was here and he finally had a proper best friend, he wondered whether it should be her that he confided in. Would she be as understanding as she used to be of Ron's jealousy of his siblings?

As though they suddenly picked up on his thoughts, Fred and George materialized out of nowhere, plopping down on either side of him.

"What's that?" Fred asked, pointing to the letter.

"Note to Ginny," Ron quickly replied, picking the letter up and folding it. The last thing he wanted was for Fred and George to see what he had written. What would they say about his feeling of uniqueness? They'd probably accuse him of being like Percy.

"Are you sure?" George asked, giving him a look that clearly said he didn't believe Ron.

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"I think it's a love note to that Hermione girl," Fred said.

"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed loudly. People turned to look at the three of them including Hermione, who was sitting in a corner all alone as usual. She gave him a hateful look, no doubt angry that his outburst had interrupted her fervent studying. When most of the other Gryffindors turned back to their tasks or conversations, Ron asked in a low hiss, "Why would you think that? I hate her!"

"Oh really?" Fred smirked. "That's not what I heard from little Seamus and Dean." Ron's jaw dropped and he bestowed his dorm-mates (who were sitting a rather large distance away playing a game of exploding snap) with a mutinous look. They both looked confused and uncomfortable back at him.

"What do you mean? What have they been saying?" he asked.

"Well, only that you stood up for her in Flying," George said with a harmless shrug.

"So? Malfoy was picking on her! That doesn't mean I fancy her or anything."

"Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie..." Fred said, shaking his head melodramatically. "You're so naïve. We've seen the way you look at her."

"Yeah...like I hate her," Ron said.

"No, no, Ronniekins," George said sadly. Ron glared; he hated that nickname. "You're obsessed."

"No I'm not! I don't like her, trust me. I stuck up for her, because Malfoy and his stupid friends were threatening to hurt her. Anybody else would have done it!"

"Aw, Ronnie-Poopsy-Doodle!" Fred exclaimed rather loudly. People turned to look again, and Ron felt his ears get hot. He hoped Hermione wasn't listening in on all of this. "How very...chivalrous of you! Like a knight in standard Hogwarts robes!"

Ron felt his stomach tighten up slightly at the sound of the word. Chivalrous? Hadn't the Sorting Hat called him that? Was that what he had been yesterday? If so, he really hadn't put any thought into it. He had just done what needed to be done on principle; Hermione was a comparatively weaker person than Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle. There was no way she could have defended herself if they attacked her physically. Ron had just put a stop to it, that was all. He wasn't trying to be noble or anything.

"Chivalrous?" George asked. "I think it's downright romantic! Saving the poor damsel in distress..."

"Go away," Ron snapped, feeling another swooping sensation in his abdomen. The hat had called him romantic, too, but Ron definitely didn't think that anything he'd done yesterday had been because he liked Hermione. In fact, he had been terribly annoyed with her when it had happened. He hated her...didn't he? Ron felt he knew that was the truth. Nobody irritated him like Hermione Granger (except, of course, for when she touched his arm).

Sensing that their work was done (they'd fully unhinged Ron now, who was too flustered to say more than two words at once), Fred and George leapt from their spots beside their brother and strolled over to their friend Lee Jordan. Within minutes they were laughing with each other, and Ron wondered weakly if it was at his expense. He hoped rumors wouldn't start going around about him and Hermione now. Sneaking a furtive glance, he checked to see if she had been listening. Thankfully, she was buried behind her Defense Against the Dark Arts book.

After a while, Ron turned back to his letter. He wanted to finish it tonight so it could be sent out tomorrow. He now knew that he desperately needed to confide in Ginny about Hermione, that he needed some sort of response. Picking up his quill, he began to write again.

A weird thing just happened. Fred and George came over to make fun of me because of this girl who is in my year in Gryffindor. Her name is

Ron stared at the words. How did you spell "Hermione?" Looking around wildly, Ron tried to find the least likely person to be judgmental about asking. He certainly couldn't turn to Hermione; if he approached her, Fred and George would definitely see this as a sign that their little brother was smitten. Plus there was the fact that he didn't want her know that he was writing to his sister about her. Glancing around, he finally decided that Neville Longbottom would be his best choice. He was the closest of all the first years to Hermione, and therefore the most likely to know how to spell her name. And it helped that he was sitting close enough that Ron didn't have to leave his seat to address him.

"Psst! Hey Neville!" Ron said. Neville positively jumped at the sound of his own name coming from someone in the room. Usually he was ignored like Hermione.

"Who, me?" he asked, finally spotting Ron looking at him.

"Yeah, you! I don't think there are any other Nevilles in Gryffindor," Ron replied, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh, right," Neville mumbled, going pink.

"How do you spell Hermione's name?"

"Why?" Neville said, eyeing Ron's letter suspiciously.

"Erm...I'm writing home to my sister Ginny," Ron said. "Why? What did you think I was doing?"

"Oh...I thought maybe you were writing to Professor Dumbledore to tell on us for going to the third floor corridor."

"Why would I do that? Harry and I were there, too." Ron couldn't stop from making an annoyed and incredulous expression at Neville. Seriously, how thick could you get?

"I know. I thought maybe you were going to lie, because you don't like us," Neville muttered even quieter. Ron felt his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"What makes you think I don't like you?" Ron said, feeling oddly ashamed considering he'd never once thought that he didn't like Neville Longbottom.

"Just the way you acted last night after we saw the three-headed dog."

"Well, that's not true. I like you a lot, Neville," Ron lied. While he didn't particularly wish Neville harm, to say he liked the boy a lot was stretching it a bit. After all, he was very clumsy and had a tendency to lose Gryffindor points. "In fact, I think you're really cool. That's actually what I'm writing to my sister about...you know...all the cool people I've met."

"Really?!" Neville sounded so thrilled that Ron didn't regret the lie.

"Absolutely!" Ron grinned.

"Oh...okay, then. I think she spells it, H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E." He glanced upward as he spelled the name, and Ron scribbled it as fast as he could. "That's what it said on her school trunk, I think. And I spell my name, N-E-V-I-L-L-E."

Ron could feel himself donning a bemused expression, but then replaced it with an understanding one. He copied Neville's name (which he had already known how to spell) onto a scrap bit of parchment. "I'm going to write a different paragraph about you," he explained, now actually feeling guilty for fibbing. "Thanks, Nev." Neville grinned at the adoption of a shortened version of his name and made to return to his Herbology homework.

"You're welcome, Ron," he replied, looking distinctly proud of himself. Feeling the tiniest tinge of regret, Ron went back to his letter.

Her name is Hermione and she's the most annoying person I've ever met. I suppose I'm a bit jealous of her, because she's really smart and always gets attention for it. She drives me nuts, though, because she's really nosy and always tells everyone else what to do. Fred and George basically said I fancy her, because I stuck up for her to Malfoy yesterday (part of the reason we fought, actually). He was threatening to hit and then use magic against her...I had to help! Anyway, they said that what I did was chivalrous and it got me thinking. The thing that Sorted me told me that I was chivalrous. Do you think that was what I was being? I mean, nobody else was standing up for her. They agreed to help me when I asked them to, but other than that, nobody said a word. Do you think that's one of those unique perfect Gryffindor qualities that I have? Or am I just reading too much into this?
Anyway, sorry about the Sorting issue. I wish I could tell you more. Maybe we need to come up with a secret code or something? I'll let you work on that since you don't have things like school to worry about.
Oh, and Harry says hi, though I'm not sure he remembers you too well. I don't know what the color of his eyes are, I don't care if girls fancy him (and I'm not going to ask them), and he is smart and funny. And very humble, to be honest. He doesn't think his experience when he was a baby is that big of a deal. He's just a normal kid, Ginny. Don't expect too much from him when you meet him.
Love,
Ron
P.S. Classes are far more boring than I thought they would be. I'm trying to enjoy them, though.

* * *

"I was very pleased with this class's homework," Professor Sprout announced as she passed back the essay she set for them about Anise, a plant that, when used properly, would stop nightmares and produce happy dreams. Ron relaxed at hearing the words. He was certain that there were several things that he had gotten mixed up in his essay. Maybe since the class had done well, that meant that she was a less strict grader than professors like McGonagall or Snape?

"There were some of you, though, that I'd like to see improvement from," she added, passing Ron's essay down to him with a quirk of the eyebrow. Ron glanced at the top of the paper and felt very dreadful. Three out of five points: A sixty percent.

Beside him Harry sighed, seeing his own marks. "What did you get?" Ron asked tentatively.

"A four out of five. I knew there was something wrong with it. I think I forgot to mention that if you put it into a potion, it only helps you fall asleep. What about you?"

Ron really didn't feel like showing Harry his work. Harry's essay appeared to be a full six inches longer than his own. Still, Harry had been brave enough to show Ron his grades. Nervously, he flashed the top of his paper at Harry and quickly dragged it from view.

"Ah, well...that's not so bad, is it?" Harry whispered. "I mean, I'm sure you probably did better than other people. Look at Neville...he's not good at anything."

"A six out of five?" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, looking over Neville's shoulder in open-mouthed shock. "That's...that's better than I got!"

Neville turned pink. "Well...I did work on it hard." Ron groaned and put his head down on the dirty table he was sitting behind. Perhaps he should have worked on this homework last week with Neville rather than write a letter to his sister?

"Congratulations, Neville!" Hermione said kindly. Ron felt, for the millionth time, fury at her. If he had done so well, she'd probably accuse him of cheating.

When class was dismissed, Professor Sprout asked for Ron to stay behind for a moment. Harry gave him a look of concern and agreed to be waiting for him outside. When the last Hufflepuff cleared out, the Herbology teacher offered him a kindly smile.

"I just want you to know, Mr. Weasley, that you're not doing terribly."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, pulling her wand out and clearing up the mess they'd made that day in class with a smooth sweep, "I saw the way you reacted to your grade today and it made me worry that you were going to lose heart. Don't. Yours was not the worst grade. And besides that, I've had plenty of students who struggled a bit at first with the subject, but then ended up doing spectacularly. Like your mother. She ended up getting an O on her N.E.W.T. in Herbology, but on her first homework she got one out of five."

Ron felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. His mother always acted as though nothing was more important than education, and yet she had struggled when she was young? Even more surprising was the idea of her being that excellent at Herbology; she couldn't even keep gnomes out of the garden! Sure, she had always talked like she appreciated the subject and was always reading up on plants, but Ron had never thought she had been good at it when she was at Hogwarts. Up until now, Ron had just thought it was a hobby.

"So, don't despair, Mr. Weasley!" she added with a kind smile. "Just work harder and it'll come more naturally. I have faith in you. And so do your other teachers, you'll find." Ron nodded in agreement, though he didn't quite believe the last bit. He couldn't buy the thought of Snape suddenly feeling as though he could rely on Ron's improvement with age. Still, Ron wasn't about to argue, and with a relieved sort of smile, he left the greenhouse to find Harry and hurry to lunch.

* * *

"Why, may I ask, did you fail to turn your homework in yesterday?" Professor McGonagall questioned, her face livid. Behind him, Ron could hear Harry uncomfortably shuffling around.

"Because I...hadn't found...enough information on the subject." Ron had lied.

Professor McGonagall scoffed. "I don't buy that, Mr. Weasley. It's an essay about turning matches into needles. Surely you've done it enough by now to get the gist."

"Sorry, Professor," Ron mumbled, bestowing on his teacher a look of utter shame and remorse. Perhaps if he did the sad puppy face, she'd take pity on him like his mother would?

"Yes, well, sorry doesn't cut it!" she said coldly. Apparently the puppy look wasn't going to work. "I demand promptness from my students, Mr. Weasley. I do not appreciate people who feel they can just do the required work whenever they want to."

"I don't feel that way, Professor."

"Clearly you do, or you would have done your homework on time like the rest of your classmates!"

"It's just," Ron began, searching for the right thing to say. He was beginning to feel that he couldn't talk his way out of this one. "I've been really busy-"

"Busy?!" she asked with a raised voice. "You've been busy? Really? Potter here has been going to Quidditch practice every night of the week, but he managed to do his homework on time. Are you telling me you're busier than Potter?" Harry shuffled again from somewhere near the door, obviously feeling guilty at Ron's predicament. Ron, however, wasn't angry with him.

"No, ma'am," Ron said with downcast eyes. He supposed the only option he had now was to take whatever punishment came to him.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, I must say I'm disappointed in you. Two points from Gryffindor. And since you've lied to me twice, I cannot accept your homework."

"What?!" Ron asked loudly. He felt like a weight had been dropped on him. He had worked really hard on that essay last night! She couldn't just throw away all that time and effort!

"Oh, yes, Mr. Weasley. Instead, I'm giving you an alternate assignment, to be handed in tomorrow before class. I want you to title this essay, 'Why Students Should Complete Their Homework On Time.'"

Ron stared blankly at her. "You're joking?" he asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

"Oh no I'm not. Despite appearances, I don't have much of a comedic side. Now, I suggest you hurry to your next class, lest you want more House Points taken away!" She glowered at him as he turned on his heel and left the room, not even bothering to pick his essay up off of her desk as he stormed out.

"I hate school," Ron lamented.

"It's not so bad," Harry tried to add reasonably.

"Oh yeah? Well, that's easy for you to say. You're on the Quidditch team, everybody likes you, and you always manage to get your homework done," Ron grumbled. Harry looked uncomfortably guilty as they walked together toward their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which made Ron feel terrible. It wasn't Harry's fault that he was doing poorly. It was his own, really. He didn't try hard enough. Most of the time, he wanted to sit around and talk about Quidditch, Chocolate Frog cards, or Wizard Chess. He was really too lazy for all of this school stuff.

"Sorry," he mumbled as they neared their classroom. "It's not your fault. I really do just need to try harder. After this essay for McGonagall, I'm going to really start working on my study habits."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "I know you're stressed. I would be too if this was my first time at school. The only reason I can keep up with it now is because I used to attend Muggle classes."

Ron nodded with a grim sort of smile. Despite the confrontation with McGonagall, he was beginning to cheer up. Harry always knew what to say to make him feel better.

* * *

Why Students Should Complete Their Homework On Time
By Ronald Weasley

Being new to school, I've discovered lots of things. The most important thing, though, is that professors really like it when you complete your work on time. They're not as patient as your parents are when they home school you. They demand perfection all of the time. I think this is probably either because they want to teach their students the importance of being punctual and responsible or because they like to feel powerful.
If I were a professor, I know I would probably want people to turn their work in on time. It would not only show that they understood the importance of deadlines, but it would also show that they respect and fear me. Because that's what professors are - people to be feared.
Truthfully, though, they shouldn't be. The professors at Hogwarts exist to teach me how to hone my magical skills and be the best wizard I can be. It's important to do the homework to show that I understand what we've learned in class and show that I'm improving out of class. From now on, I am setting a goal for myself - to do my homework on time (or else, face the wrath of Professor McGonagall).

She finished reading, eyeing Ron with a curious sort of glance. Professor McGonagall wasn't pursing her lips as she usually did when she was angry. Instead, she was giving Ron a calculated sort of look, as though trying to figure out whom exactly was standing in front of her.

The truth was, Ron had forgotten all about this assignment until that morning in Charms. Frantically (and knowing that it would be impossible to work on in Herbology), Ron had scribbled down the essay, pretending to take notes on Color-Change charms. The only reason he remembered was because Hermione Granger had turned their homework (which was due the following week) in already. Professor Flitwick had given her five points for, "Not only turning her homework in on time, but turning it in early!" Ron supposed he should thank her, but then he remembered that he and Harry were happy that she was angry with them, so he didn't.

After class, Professor McGonagall had asked Ron to stay behind while she went over his paper to make sure that he fully understood what she wanted. He had waited nervously, watching her eyes dart down the three short paragraphs. Was it not enough? Had he not been as serious as she would have liked him to? It had been hard to really care for the assignment since it annoyed him that he had to do it to begin with. But then, he knew she always expected students to do their best. Reflecting on his paper, Ron was sure she was going to be disappointed in him. He had certainly not done his best.

Now McGonagall was looking him up and down, still at a loss for words. "Did you like it?" Ron finally asked.

"It was very cheeky," she said with a small frown.

"So...you didn't like it?"

"Mr. Weasley, do you remember me telling the class that I didn't approve of funny business at the beginning of term?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Well...normally, I don't appreciate things like this. But you said it all very well and managed to make me chuckle in the process." Ron didn't remember Professor McGonagall chuckling while reading his essay, but he wasn't going to point that out, especially since she seemed to suddenly like his effort.

"Thank you," he said.

"Now, I will give you your two points that I took away yesterday, and will give you a grade on your paper you tried to hand in yesterday."

"You...you're going to grade it?!" Ron said excitedly.

"Well, of course! You left it on my desk yesterday. I read it last night and it was marvelous. I wouldn't deny a paper as good as yours a grade...I'm not heartless!" And she did something Ron would have never expected: She smiled. Ron had thought it was impossible for her, but here she was, her strict face contorted into a kindly sort of small grin. It made him feel amazing.

"Thank you, Professor," he said with a smile. "You don't know what this means to me."

"Oh, but I do," she said, her face suddenly going back to its strict mask. "You do know that you're a very smart boy, right? You just need to try hard. And please, from now on, do your work on time. I'd hate to ask you to waste your time with another essay like this, even if it's funny. I'd also hate for you to fail Charms, because of essays set by me." Ron gaped at her; how did she know he'd done his homework in Charms that morning? Professor McGonagall didn't look angry, but was lightly grinning again. Apparently she somehow still approved of him, despite her desire for everyone to do their best.

Ron left the classroom feeling oddly light and happy. Harry had opted to stand outside this time, worried that McGonagall would choose to illustrate just how much better he was than Ron again.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked.

"I nailed it," Ron replied. With a bounce in his step, he strutted down the corridor. Not only had he managed to do a paper at the last minute, but he was also going to have his homework from yesterday graded. And, even better, Professor McGonagall had called him smart.

Take that, Hermione Granger.

* * *

All of Harry's practices that he had to attend meant that Ron spent a lot of time on his own. It was both a relief and depressing at the same time. While he liked having Harry around, Ron did need his own personal time to do things only he liked to do. Yet there wasn't enough that he could do on his own that effectively filled the entire time Harry was away. He would always end up sitting in the common room, staring blankly out the window, wondering when he'd see the Gryffindor team head up from the Quidditch pitch. It was, in his opinion, pretty pathetic.

Today, Ron had weighed his options carefully. He had taken to working with Neville on Herbology homework (his grades had improved in that class exponentially - Neville was surprisingly good at the subject), but since tomorrow was Friday, neither of the boys really wanted to get started on it. He didn't want to spend time with Seamus or Dean, who begged him to teach them Wizard Chess strategies, because he was still mad at them for telling Fred and George that he fancied Hermione. He could write to Ginny again, he supposed (she had written back with a code for him to tell her about the Sorting Hat). But he really wasn't relishing the idea of the code failing, which was something he was sure would happen.

The only thing left, then, was to work on homework on his own. There was a Potions essay due tomorrow that he had only barely started on - the effects of powdered unicorn horn in Basic Bite Remedies (used to help cure cuts and sores produced from the bites of magical creatures) - and he knew that it was imperative that he finish it on time. Professor McGonagall may have suddenly turned lenient, but Professor Snape was absolutely immovable. Ron shuddered as he remembered last week's class, where he had forgotten to add bowtruckle legs to his Basic Bite Remedy (he made sure, at least, to add powdered unicorn horn...Snape had made it very clear that it was important). Snape had sneered sinisterly and called him, "the biggest failure from the Weasley family." Ron had left the class feeling absolutely miserable and vowing to himself to show Snape with his homework that he wasn't a failure.

But he had forgotten about it over the weekend and throughout the week. Honestly, Potions was hated above all other classes, and it had been easy to just overlook that work needed to be done for it. Now, he was at the very last minute and hoping beyond everything that he had it in him to write more than the required foot for the paper.

Having realized that there wasn't enough substantial information in their Potions text Magical Draughts and Potions, Ron had come to a difficult decision: To go to the library for the first time. He hadn't wanted to go there alone, but he really didn't fancy telling any of the other first years that he hadn't yet started his homework. It was with a heavy resolve that at 7:30 that evening, Ron climbed out of the portrait hole and wandered through the corridors, down to the library.

He had been dreading going for one main reason: Hermione Granger. Ever since last Friday, when Snape had insulted him, she had gone from acting snobby and annoyed to bestowing looks of pity on him whenever she could. Ron hadn't really known how to take it; he had rather gotten used to disliking her again and had forgotten the way he had felt when she had touched his arm. Now that she wasn't acting as cold or hateful, he remembered the conflicted feeling he had felt a month ago at the start of term, and it made him feel all the more uncomfortable.

When he got there, though, she was nowhere to be seen, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. Putting his bag onto the last empty table remaining, he moved down the rows of books in search of some unknown tome that might help him write over a foot of essay. In a section marked, "Magical Creatures," he found a book about unicorns and thought maybe it would be instructive. Then, in another part of the library called, "Healing," he found a book called Basic Cuts and Infections. Feeling that he had more than enough information, he moved back to his table and set to work.

A few minutes of flipping through the pages of the books taught him one thing: Never judge a book by its title. Ron couldn't find anything about the properties of unicorn horns in the Magical Creatures book. Instead, it only gave instructions for how to take care of them. In Basic Cuts and Infections, there was nothing about making potions. It was just a simple guide for proper bandaging and what kind of potions to use. Ron sighed, annoyed with himself. Where in this library was he going to find something that talked about the Basic Bite Remedy and why the unicorn horn was so important to it? He hadn't seen a "Potions" section.

Just as he was feeling most frustrated with himself, she entered. Her bushy hair bounced as she walked, her brown eyes scanning the room. Quickly, Ron pulled Basic Cuts and Infections in front of him, praying that she wouldn't see him behind it. He didn't want to feel like he was being pitied by her. All he wanted was to figure out how to get this essay done before Harry came back from practice so that they could spend time together.

Thankfully she wandered somewhere else, for when Ron next glanced over the top of his book, she was no longer in sight. Feeling better, he decided to begin on his essay. Maybe if he just started on what he knew from class and their textbook, he could add the other stuff in later when he found the proper book?

The Effects of Powdered Unicorn Horn in Basic Bite Remedies
By Ron Weasley
When someone is bitten by a non-magical creature, their wounds are easy to take care of. Just a few drops of a general healing potion and a bandage will do the trick in repairing such cuts. When you've been bitten by a magical creature you need something a bit stronger - A Basic Bite Remedy.
Perhaps the most important ingredient in a Basic Bite Remedy is the powdered unicorn horn. Unicorns have healing properties, and this is found in their horn. It also takes away the pain by -

"Excuse me?" a rather timid sounding voice whispered from nearby. Ron felt his hand grip his quill tighter. He hadn't been safe, it seemed. Hermione had sought him out and was now doing the unthinkable: Interrupting his study time.

"Yes?" he asked as politely as he could. He didn't know why, but he felt rather annoyed with her for intruding.

"Erm...sorry, but...I was wondering...can I sit with you?" Ron looked up now, not at her directly, but all around them. There were plenty of tables in the library that had extra seats. Why couldn't Hermione find another first year to sit with? As though she read his mind, she added, "All the other seats are taken."

That was a lie. Ron could see several vacated seats in the room. But then, as he looked them over, he noticed something else. While there were other tables with only one person at them, many of the people had moved their bags and school things in front of the empty chairs. A good deal of the students in the room were now glaring at Hermione's back, dislike written all over their features.

And now Ron understood. It wasn't that there was a lack of room at the tables for Hermione, it was that no one wanted to sit with her. Apparently the general consensus about Hermione in the student body was that she was obnoxious and disliked. A wave of guilt and compassion swept over him. While he personally struggled with kind feelings toward her, he didn't think she deserved to have everyone treat her like he had. Finally looking to her, Ron realized that she had her eyes on the floor, as though ashamed with her very existence and the fact that she had to stand here and beg for a place to sit. How could he possibly say no to her? Nodding, Ron said in a hushed voice, "Yeah, sure."

It was weird, but the relief on Hermione's face as he said yes made Ron feel good. She suddenly had the courage to look up at him as she placed her bag (which, Ron could see, was loaded with books) on the table and readied herself to voyage into the bookshelves. Ron noticed her glance at the titles of his books and had to fight off the urge to cringe; no doubt she probably thought he was stupid. "Do you want me to get you anything?" she asked politely.

"Er...no, I think I'm good," Ron lied. Truthfully, he knew he needed to look through the books again, but he didn't want Hermione to help him. It was bad enough that she felt sorry for him for what Snape had said to him a week ago. He really didn't need her to think he was incompetent too.

Silently, she slipped off and Ron turned back to his essay.

It also takes away the pain by infusing the element of water to the wound, flushing it out easily.
What are the properties of the unicorn horn? And how do each of them help cure magical bites?
Fifty percent of the unicorn's horn is made of calcium-

"Here you go," Hermione suddenly said. Ron looked up, startled at the sudden noise. Standing in front of him, Hermione was holding out a rather thick book entitled, Important Properties of General Potions Ingredients. Ron's jaw dropped.

"Where did you find that?"

"Potions section. Over there." Hermione pointed toward the direction of the Restricted Section. Ron, of course, hadn't checked there. "I used it when I wrote my Potions essay. It has everything you need, really."

Ron didn't know what to say. He hadn't told her to get him anything, yet she had. And the weird part of it all was that she didn't look mean or judgmental...she just looked nice about it, as if she were helping an old friend. "Thanks," Ron finally mumbled, taking the book from her hands. Flipping open the book to the Table of Contents, he wasn't altogether surprised to find that there was a chapter titled, "Unicorn Horn: Powdered and Whole."

Hermione took her seat across from him, but didn't say anymore. They just sat in silence together. It was, Ron had to admit, kind of nice. Hermione, he could see, was working on her Herbology essay, reading all about Abbot Cabbage (a little, grass-like plant that liked to be fed ale and be sung to). He, meanwhile, ended up getting a full eleven inches done on his essay in no time.

It was nearly 8:30 by the time Hermione spoke to him again. She shut her book, looking up thoughtfully. Ron glanced over out of the corner of his eye. Was she alright? "You know," she finally remarked, "I never really got to thank you for standing up to Draco Malfoy for me."

Oh. Ron now looked up at her fully. She still appeared to be deep in thought, though what she could be thinking about, Ron had no idea. "It's not a problem," he said. "I just did what anybody would have done, really."

"No. Not anyone," Hermione said with a frown. Then rather abruptly she added, "I don't think people like me much here."

Ron's stomach swooped guiltily. "That's not true!" he insisted, though he knew full well that it was a lie.

"It is...I thought maybe coming here would be different. I thought that since everyone was magic that I would fit in. I was always weird and hated at Muggle school. But it's just the same at Hogwarts." She was no longer looking at him, but down at her books. Ron felt hopeless. This was just like the awkward Neville conversation all over again, but infinitely worse. Hermione was speaking truths that everyone knew, but no one wanted to say, least of all to her.

"Well...it's not that people don't like you," he tried to say reasonably. "It's just...you're different. Everyone is, really. You're really smart and you like your books."

"Is that why you don't like me?" Hermione asked boldly.

"Who said I didn't like you?" Ron's ears were beginning to burn, and he looked down at his own hands. The truth was, for all his complaining, being near Hermione reminded him of the comforting touch on the arm. If only he could explain how nice it had felt to her without sounding like he fancied her. He really didn't want her to get the wrong idea.

"I can tell, Ron. You and Harry hate me."

"We do not!" Ron said defensively. Well, he didn't know about Harry...perhaps he really did hate Hermione? But Ron didn't. He just constantly felt annoyed by her presence...that was all.

"Then why are you always so mean to me?"

"We don't try to be. You can be...a little intimidating sometimes."

"Like how?"

"I don't know!" Ron said loudly. Several people shushed him and Ron looked around, making sure that they went back to their work before talking again. "I guess, maybe it's because you're so smart. You make us feel stupid. And because you act like all we ever want to do is break the rules. We're not out to destroy Hogwarts, believe it or not. We want to learn, too. It's just all these weird things keep happening and we can't help but break the rules." Ron didn't quite know where the rant came from. It was as if he'd been wanting to tell Hermione these things for ages, and now they were finally pouring from him.

"Oh..." she said. "Anything else?"

"Yes, now that you mention it. You always want to know what we're up to. We never get any privacy from you. It's not that we dislike you, it's just that we want to have some peace and quiet sometimes. You make our business yours."

"Well, of course I do!" Hermione whispered frantically. "You break the rules!"

"See?" Ron said, pointing at her. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes bulged with the shock of realization. Ron couldn't help but smile smugly.

"Yes," she said. "Sorry."

"It's alright. You can't help it," Ron commented.

"No, I really can't. I can't change who I am, Ron. I want to fit in, but I love studying and rules are made to be followed. I'm not going to stop caring for those things." Hermione frowned and bit her lip, seemingly deep in thought again.

"You don't have to," Ron explained. "You just need to be a tad less intense about things. Try not to overwhelm people."

"Yeah, you're right," she mumbled. They fell into silence again, and Ron turned back to his paper feeling uncomfortable. He was working feverishly, but Hermione Granger, the model scholar, was just sitting across from him, staring blankly into space and biting her lip. As he finished off the essay (fourteen inches), he vaguely wondered when she'd start to break the skin.

"Well, I'm done," Ron announced. He picked up the book, planning on checking it out and lending it to Harry (who Ron wasn't sure had finished his essay). "Thanks for all your help." The weird thing was, he genuinely meant it.

Hermione nodded absently, and Ron, seeing this as his cue to depart, began to walk away. "Ron, wait!" he heard her whisper behind his back.

"What?" he asked, turning around.

"That thing that Malfoy said about your family...you know, all that garbage about you being poor?"

Ron could feel his ears once again burn as he remembered it. He hated Malfoy, and he wasn't too happy that Hermione was bringing it up again. "Yeah? What about it?" he asked with a growing rage in his chest.

"It's not worth being angry about. You're a great person, Ron. It doesn't matter if you have money or not. All that matters is that you do the right things and treat people the right way. Malfoy is nothing compared to you."

Ron nodded, completely at a loss for words. Then, quite out of nowhere, Hermione (who usually wore a disapproving look much like Professor McGonagall) smiled at him. Though her front teeth were overlarge and the bottom ones were slightly crooked, the effect was surprisingly wonderful. She had dimples on her cheeks that showed when she smiled, and her eyes shone brightly. Why didn't she do it more often? Ron grinned back, feeling peculiarly blissful and glad. Then without another word, he marched to the front desk, checked out the book, left the library, and headed up to Gryffindor Tower.

That night, as Harry frantically worked on his Potions essay using the book Hermione had suggested, Ron couldn't stop smiling. For some, unknown reason, Ron was highly optimistic. He could do anything he set his mind to, could be anything he wanted to. Not only did he have confirmation that he was a better person than Draco Malfoy, but he had also seen a Hermione Granger smile. And it tied his stomach in knots to think about.