Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Six:

Spoons, Feathers, and Pie

"Are you ready for Halloween?"

Ron looked up at Percy as his brother plopped down in the seat next to him in the Great Hall. It wasn't that he didn't like his brother, but it was rather unexpected to have him approach him like this. It was quite alarming, to tell the truth. Sensing something was about to happen that they could make light of, Fred and George flocked over to their brothers and sat across from them. Ron looked at Harry confusedly, but his friend just shrugged unhelpfully.

"Yeah, I guess?" Ron replied. "What's so important about it?"

"What's so important about it?" an indignant voice asked from behind them. Turning in his seat, Ron saw Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, drifting imperially between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Dread filled Ron; the last time he'd spoken with Nick, he'd somehow managed to insult the man. It was hard for Ron to be sensitive to him. After all, before Nick, Ron had never met a ghost before. "Why, it's only one of the most celebrated traditions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! It's a day to honor the dead, including us ghosts."

"Cool," Ron said politely, even though he didn't care.

"We get out of classes early that day," Fred supplied to Ron. George nodded, but Ron was skeptical. After all, this was Fred and George. Percy confirmed it, though, with a nod.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because the teachers and Prefects have to decorate the Great Hall for the feast," Percy said, puffing his chest out importantly. Fred and George smirked, and Harry (who was quickly getting used to the Weasleys) choked on his kippers.

"So, wait...we're having a feast to honor the dead?" Ron asked, confused. "That doesn't make sense...I mean, it's not like you guys can enjoy it, is it?" he asked Nick. The ghost squared his shoulders and glared at the boy that he clearly thought was ungrateful and rude.

"Well, I suppose it's the thought that counts," Nick said dryly. Then, floating off, he mumbled, "Insensitive little brat." Harry hid a laugh from behind his cup of pumpkin juice and the twins flashed him a huge grin. Clearly they approved of Harry's inability to keep a straight face when Ron was uncomfortable.

"Yes, well...we do it, because we want to respect the dead. They put on a great show for us, too," Percy said while looking at Ron disapprovingly.

"What kind of decorations will you guys be putting up?" Harry asked.

"It's a surprise...only the teachers and we Prefects are allowed to know.

"Oh, please!" exclaimed George. "It's the same thing every year!"

"Well, they haven't seen it yet," Percy replied.

"Oh yes, let's not ruin the well protected secret of the Halloween decorations," Fred said mockingly.

"We don't have to dress up, do we?" Ron asked with his nose crinkled. He felt he had rather surpassed dressing up for Halloween now that he was a proper student.

"Oh, didn't you know?" George asked, a concerned look on his face. "There's a contest and everything, Ronnie. AND they don't let you in without a costume."

"Don't listen to him, Ron, he's lying," Percy said.

Ron, who had felt rather horrified about what George had been saying (he didn't have a costume, and besides that, he didn't have the money to get one on such short notice. Why had no one told him?), now felt embarrassed enough to bestow an incredulous look on Percy. "I know that! I'm not stupid enough to believe everything he tells me!" Fred and George gave each other significant looks, clearly not buying Ron's apparent skepticism.

As they left the Hall, Ron saw Harry look around them, as though making sure someone wasn't near them. Then he said in a hushed voice, "For a minute there I thought George was serious. I thought they would have surely told us about needing costumes in the list they sent with our acceptance letter."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Harry had been just as gullible as he had. Still, he didn't want to admit that his brother had fooled him, so he shrugged Harry off as if the thought of costumes at a Halloween feast was ludicrous. "George lies all the time. Besides, can you imagine old Snape dressed up for Halloween?"

"He wouldn't need to dress up," Harry quipped. "He's scary enough already."

That afternoon in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall announced to the class about the feast later on in the week. Most of the students began talking excitedly, having never heard of the tradition. Harry and Ron simply looked at one another with similar smiles. Apparently Percy was being completely sincere, which really wasn't a surprise to Ron. He was incapable of making a joke like Fred and George.

"So, this means that on Thursday, you will not need to report to your third or fourth classes of the day. After lunch, everyone is free for the afternoon. The staff and Prefects, you see, must decorate for the feast," Professor McGonagall explained. "I must ask that you steer clear of the Great Hall and that on Thursday you show the House ghosts the respect they deserve. This will be, after all, a day about them. They quite enjoy the attention, and I won't have any of you making them feel bad about their...ah...predicament."

Ron felt a little queasy at the thought. Making a mental note to apologize to Nick sometime before Thursday, Ron tried not to feel too guilty. After all, how was he supposed to know that Halloween was to honor the dead? Sure, he'd known it was a creepy day, but most of his childhood had been spent expecting nothing more than homemade candy from his mum and Muggle sweets from obliging households in Ottery St. Catchpole (he always amused them, because every year he dressed up as a wizard. One of them once asked if he wanted to be one and he had blurted out, "I am a wizard!" His mother had laughed as if she were embarrassed, but the Muggle woman had thought the answer was so adorable that she gave him even more chocolate dipped pretzels. That was the night that Ron had learned that being cute had its benefits).

"Now, because we don't have class on Thursday, I'm planning something a little different for this week," Professor McGonagall said with a stern voice that somehow managed to make Ron feel doomed. "This week, I have a project for you all due on Wednesday. I will split you up into pairs, and today, tomorrow, and Wednesday during class you are to work on it. All projects will be due at the end of class on Wednesday. Now, let's see..." She began to work her way through the room, coming to different students in turn and placing them with someone she didn't normally see them around. Ron knew he wouldn't be with Harry, of course. The two were inseparable, and Professor McGonagall, though oddly kind sometimes, wasn't that nice.

"Mr. Boot," Professor McGonagall said looking down at the small Ravenclaw. Her eyes scanned the classroom, and Ron felt them drift over him without really seeing him. They came to a stop on Harry. "Why don't you pair up with Mr. Potter?"

"Alright!" Terry Boot said excitedly. He got up from his chair and gathered his things, making his way to the back of the class where Harry and Ron were seated.

"Sorry, mate," Harry said in a hushed voice in Ron's direction.

"I knew she wouldn't put us together. It's not a problem." Ron shrugged.

"Ah, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, coming to Hermione. "Who shall I choose for you?" She once again looked about the classroom. Ron felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. He was, once again, rather conflicted about Hermione. He knew he didn't like her all that well in class, where she was prone to bossing people around and letting off a general aura of know-it-allness. But outside of class, she was mainly pleasant, especially when she smiled. Of course, there were the times when she stuck her nose in their business and told them off for breaking rules, but she had stopped doing that so much lately.

Still, this was a class assignment, which meant that Ron wouldn't be seeing the friendly Hermione. Instead, he'd be seeing that snobby Hermione who thought she was better than everybody. Silently Ron begged God to have mercy on him. "How about you partner up with...Mr. Weasley?" There was an undeniable look of cruelty on Professor McGonagall's face as she said it. Damn it!! he thought angrily. WHY?!

Shoulders slumped, Ron began to gather his own stuff to vacate his desk for Terry Boot and head over to Hermione's. "Bad luck," Harry said under his breath to Ron.

"Yep," Ron muttered back. Hermione didn't turn back as Ron approached her desk and sat down in Neville's empty seat (he was paired up with Parvati Patil, who seemed just as dismayed in her partner as Ron felt about his). Instead, she kept her eyes resolutely forward. Briefly, he wondered if she was mad at him, but then he thought it was a ridiculous notion. He hadn't done anything to make her mad, had he? No...their conversation in the library last Thursday had ended well. And although he hadn't talked to her since then, it wasn't as though he was strictly avoiding her or anything. When she finally did look in his direction, Ron made sure to flash her an encouraging sort of grin. He definitely didn't fancy starting out their assignment on bad terms.

When they were all paired up, Professor McGonagall began a brief explanation on their project. "Phase one of the assignment will involve studying the properties of silverware, specifically spoons."

"What's there to study?" Seamus Finnigan blurted out. "They're made of silver and are used to scoop things." Dean laughed at his friend's cheek, and Ron couldn't help but crack a grin. It was funny, after all. Hermione, however, simply looked disapproving.

"Very good, Mr. Finnigan, but I believe it's a little more complex than that," Professor McGonagall said coldly. "You should have that done by the end of class today. For homework, I want you to work with your partner on what the properties of a fork are."

"But, Professor, what if our partner is in a different House?" Ron heard Terry Boot ask.

"That's what the library is for, Mr. Boot."

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall, but I'm on the Quidditch team and we have practice until nine tonight," Harry spoke up.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a nod. "Sorry, but sometimes I forget. I'm still not used to having a first year on the team. Well...in that case, why don't you both work on it and then collaborate at the beginning of class tomorrow? I daresay, you won't be far behind everyone else." Ron turned back to look at their reactions. Harry looked placated at the idea of working on part of the project alone, but Terry looked distinctly put out. Well, forgive us for being Gryffindors...lousy git, Ron thought.

"Anyway, tomorrow phase two begins, in which you will practice an incantation to turn spoons into forks. You will continue the work on Wednesday, and by the end of class, I want everyone to be able to do it. That means that if you can't get it tomorrow, then you will have to practice outside of class. Also due by the end of class Wednesday is a brief explanation of the properties of both spoons and forks, an explanation of the spell, and a statement of why it could be useful.

"Are there any questions?" Professor McGonagall looked about the room, expecting at least one student to be unsure of what they were supposed to do. When nobody raised their hands, she continued. "Right then. You may begin."

Turning to Hermione, Ron saw that she was already flipping frantically through her Transfiguration text. Mimicking her, he slowly flicked through the pages, trying to figure out just where in the book she was turning to. He finally decided that she was in the middle of chapter five, so he went there himself. The chapter, he saw with a snort, was called, "Simple Dinner Transfigurations." Well, he thought, there's our answer for why it's useful. Of course, it didn't really take a genius to see why someone may want to turn their spoon into a fork.

"Okay," Hermione said, taking his attention away from the ridiculousness of the assignment. "I think I should probably write about the different elemental properties a spoon could potentially have and you should write about different shapes."

Ron stared blankly at her. "What do you mean by, 'the different elemental properties?' Aren't they all just made of silver?"

Hermione sighed as though she were thoroughly annoyed with him. Ron's grip on his book tightened at the sound of the breath of air rushing from her lungs. Was she really going to do this to them? After all they discussed last Thursday? He would have thought that she would have at least learned from the conversation that he didn't like it when she made him feel stupid. But apparently not. Smart as Hermione Granger was, she apparently couldn't learn from her previous mistakes.

"They're not always made of silver. Sometimes people use gold-plated silverware. I mean, think of the Start of Term feast. We had golden everything there; plates, goblets, and silverware. They could also be plastic, steel, and any other number of products. In order to properly transfigure things, you have to know what you're working with. That means knowing what your starting object is and visualizing properly what you want the end product to look like and consist of."

Now it was Ron's turn to sigh. Not only had he not wanted that much information spilled out to him, but he also didn't really care for the tone of which she delivered it. She talked to him like he was a small, ignorant child. Not like an equal. Seething, Ron decided to just get his second question out of the way. "Well, then why do I have to look up the shape? Isn't there only one type?"

"No...there are teaspoons, tablespoons, measuring spoons, ladles, soup spoons, egg spoons-"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Ron growled angrily at her. She looked at him, rather taken aback and seemingly unknowing of what she had just been doing to him. His ears turning red, Ron pulled a sheaf of parchment, his bottle of bright orange ink (if he was going to have to work with Hermione, he might as well be able to write in a color that made him happy), and his raven feather quill. Hermione looked at him apprehensively. "What?"

"Orange?" she asked.

"Well, yes...you want me to write a list of spoons, don't you?"

"Erm...yes, but I also need you to describe their shape and when I compile all the notes on one sheet of paper, it's going to be rather hard for me to read the orange ink," she said tentatively.

"Why don't you do a Color-Changing Charm?" Ron said cheekily. She had, after all, been the best in the class at the spell.

"Well, I'm not sure it'll work on ink. From what I've read, it really only works on tangible objects, and I'm not sure dried ink is all that tangible."

Ron aggressively dropped the orange ink into his bag and pulled out a bottle of black. "Better?" he asked. Hermione nodded and turned to her book.

The next hour and fifteen minutes was spent in silence. Ron exhausted his brain on all the types of spoons he knew about. Really, he couldn't think of anything beyond what Hermione had supplied him with. There was such a thing as a coffee spoon, but he couldn't quite remember what the actual name was for it.

"What about the spork?" Ron asked after a while. Hermione looked up at him blankly, but then frowned.

"Hmm...I don't know if that's really considered a spoon."

"It's a mix of the two...like a Muggle's attempt at Transfiguration. I wonder if there's a spell to turn things into sporks?" he asked blearily. All of the thinking about spoons had made him both hungry and very loopy. Hermione, who had written five pages worth of notes about different properties spoons could be made of, seemed to be in the same sort of state. It rather surprised Ron to see her chuckle a bit at his train of thought. The dimples showed again, and Ron found himself grinning stupidly. He liked making her laugh, even if she infuriated him beyond reason.

* * *

"Now, the incantation is Argenti Forkus," Hermione reminded him as they stood over their spoons, which sat innocently on the desk.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I know...McGonagall just told us. I'm not so dim that I forgot in the three seconds since then." It was hard not to snap at her. She had made last night rather unbearable for him. While Harry was at practice, they had resolutely sat together in the Gryffindor common room in her usual corner and worked on the part of the lesson about forks. It had been infuriatingly dull work, and every now and then, she had insisted on going over his list to make sure he wasn't forgetting something. Sure enough, she always came up with something like "lobster fork" or "pitchfork." Sometimes, he had found it impossible to describe what the particular fork looked like, since he really wasn't a walking dictionary on silverware. This had frustrated her even more, and by the time Harry came back, she told him to just leave so she could finish all the work.

"I didn't say you were," she snapped at him.

"You implied it."

"I did not!"

"Did too."

"No I didn't!"

"Yes...you did."

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall called from across the room. Ron and Hermione looked up, both feeling suddenly embarrassed. Had the whole room heard them bickering? "I understand that it's quite fun to argue, but now I'd really rather you work on the task at hand, lest you'd rather lose House Points?"

"No, Professor," they said in unison. Looking back at Harry, Ron saw his best mate smirk. Clearly Ron's struggle was something of a joke to his friend. Easy for him to judge, Ron thought viciously, casting a glare at the unknowing Terry Boot. He and Terry get along perfectly. Ron couldn't stop the stab of jealousy that he felt toward the tiny Ravenclaw boy. Harry and he were laughing about something. What if the prat stole Harry away from him? What if Harry decided that Boot was a better friend than he was?

"Ron?" Hermione said with a sigh. "I really think we should work before Professor McGonagall singles us out again. I don't want to lose House Points." Ron rolled his eyes. Bloody House Points...he was sick of them. Everything hinged on stupid House Points in this school. If you gained them, everyone loved you. If you lost them, they hated you. The House Point system was just a stupid instigator for popularity contests.

Still, it was clearly important to Hermione that they keep moving on, and he really didn't fancy having yet another row with her over this dumb project. "Right," he said. Lifting his wand up, he tried to imagine his heavy silver spoon (for it had been silver, though Hermione's had been stainless steel) turning into a heavy four-pronged silver fork. He pictured it in his head, imagined even eating a piece of blueberry pie with it. Man, that sounded good right now.

Thinking more of pie than he was of his fork now, Ron said, "Argenti Forkus!" To his disdain, rather than turning into a fork, his spoon bent backward into a perfect circle. Hermione's eyes went wide at the sight of it.

"Why did it go all round like that?" she asked, perplexed.

Ron's ears turned red, but he knew he couldn't lie to her. "I was thinking about pie."

"Pie?" Hermione said. "Why?"

"I was imagining eating it with the fork I was trying to make." At that precise moment, his stomach gave an enormous growl, and Ron looked down at it annoyed. It was as if his body wanted to make him feel ridiculous in front of this girl. Hermione, unable to contain herself, burst out into giggles. Ron glared at her, feeling hurt and annoyed. Why did she think this was so funny?

"Sorry...sorry!" she managed to say in between peals of laughter. "It's just...the timing...was so perfect!" She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide the obvious mirth and enjoyment. Ron suddenly found it hard not to smile; the timing had been perfect, hadn't it? Besides, it felt good to see Hermione not looking stern at him for once.

"Well, why don't you try?" he asked. It took her a few moments to calm herself, but then Hermione held up her wand and pointed it at her soup spoon.

"Argenti Forkus!" she said. It didn't work, though the outcome wasn't as catastrophic as Ron's. Instead of turning into a fork, her spoon just gained a sharp point on the end.

"It looks like a spade," Ron said with a smile. It made him feel good to know that Hermione wasn't perfect.

"Whoops," she said, then began to giggle again. "I suppose you could skewer stuff on this?" Now Ron laughed. The idea of eating blueberry pie with the pathetic spoon was laughable. Now they were bursting out together, giggling uncontrollably. The rest of the class swiveled their eyes toward the pair of them, but neither of them realized until Professor McGonagall came tearing across the room.

"What is so funny about this assignment?" she asked, clearly affronted. Hermione instantly stopped giggling and looked guilty, though Ron didn't quite know why. The mystery of it was enough to sober him slightly, but he couldn't stop the smile. "Mr. Weasley! What happened to your spoon?" Professor McGonagall picked up the circle of bent silver and held it up as if examining it closely to ascertain if it would ever be useable again.

"Pie," was all Ron managed to get out, as he snickered at the look on McGonagall's face. Hermione brought her hand to her mouth, but was quickly able to regain her composure.

"And you, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking down at the spade-spoon.

"Erm...I don't know," she said.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand and the spoons went back to normal. "Back to work then...and no more funny business!"

"Right," Ron said, though he didn't really mean it. He had discovered a new side to Hermione Granger, and he wasn't about to let it disappear anytime soon.

But she was determined that they get back on track. Anytime Ron messed up and laughed about it, Hermione's lips would twitch, but she would shake her head disapprovingly. By the end of the class, she had managed to successfully change her soup spoon into a beef fork, but Ron's spoon only achieved a split down the middle, retaining the spoon-like shape. And even though he wanted to laugh about it, she was so unobliging that Ron's sour mood had returned.

"Well, you're getting better," she commented. Ron grunted back at her in acknowledgement. "You'll just have to practice tonight. I can help if you want me to." And even though he didn't want her to, even though he was now annoyed with her for letting Professor McGonagall ruin all of the fun, Ron nodded in acquiescence. Maybe in the comfort of the common room she would open up and be fun again?

* * *

"No, no, no!" Hermione said, clearly annoyed. "You're still not visualizing the fork right!" They had spent all night working on what Ron had termed the "Spork Spell" but their progress had been very minimal. Now they were both sitting in Transfiguration, tired and annoyed with one another. Ron had managed to create prongs, but there was still a very bowl-like shape to the object that Ron had long since declared to be a fork. Hermione, however, was not satisfied.

Even though he had blindly hoped that she would relax and be fun last night, she never relented. Instead, she had become determined to be snobby, bookish, and increasingly irritated with him after each failed attempt. Ron gritted his teeth, fighting to hold back the tirade of insults that were threatening to spill out at her. He really felt nothing but hatred now for her. How could he have ever thought she was fun or that she had a pretty smile? How could he have ever hoped that she would be anything but haughty and obnoxious? He should have known...she had said it herself. I can't change who I am, Ron.

Somehow he managed to keep himself in check. Turning to his spoon, he tried to remember every bit of advice she had given him when she had attempted to be kind and helpful last night. Imagine the property, imagine the shape ENTIRELY, and picture what the transformation will look like. Lifting up his wand, Ron uttered, "Argenti Forkus!" Once again, he watched as the spoon gained prongs and grew longer. But it was still cupped in like a spoon.

"Ugh! Come on, Ron! You're not picturing it clear enough!" she said loudly, nearly shouting at him.

"I'm doing the best I can!" he shouted back. "Maybe if I didn't have you breathing down my neck, I might be able to do it!" Hermione's brows furrowed, and for the first time since the night that they had seen the three-headed dog, she gave him a glare that clearly said that she did not like him. Ron didn't care.

"Fine! I won't watch then! It won't make a difference," Hermione said, turning around. Ron fought off the urge to do a rude hand gesture behind her back.

Reversing his spell, Ron looked down at the spoon and imagined. A long silver fork, four prongs, longer than a spoon, not shaped like a spoon...no unnecessary bends. A fork...a very fork-like fork. Not a spoon. Lifting up the battered old wand, Ron said, "Argenti Forkus!" Nervously he watched it transform into...a fork.

"AHA!!" he said excitedly. Hermione wheeled around and looked at his handiwork. He lifted it up and shoved it into her face. "Do you see that?! It's a fork! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"Very good, Ron! I knew you could do it!" she said in obvious relief.

"Yeah, well, no thanks to you," Ron said aggressively. Hermione frowned, but Ron didn't care. He had turned his spoon into a fork. Now he could get this stupid project over with and never have to work with Hermione Granger ever again...hopefully.

"We still have to write the paper. I can write the last bit if you want me to," Hermione offered.

"Yeah, whatever," Ron said, not really caring. The paper was inconsequential to him. Just the fact that he had finally done it was enough satisfaction. The rest of the class was spent reversing the spell and doing it all over again. Hermione sat at her desk, frantically writing the last three pages of report for McGonagall. When she finished, she had Ron sign his name at the top and turned it in to their teacher. They were dismissed five minutes early, and together they made their way down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They didn't speak at all. Ron had rather had enough of Hermione to last him the rest of the year.

* * *

"Today we'll be dividing up into pairs to practice the Levitation Charm!" Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly. Ron groaned. Hearing those words made him think of the dreaded Transfiguration lessons of earlier this week. Thankfully they didn't have that class today, as it was Halloween. He doubted very much that he'd be forced to work with Hermione Granger twice in one week, but still, he'd rather be able to choose his own partner.

"Alright, Mr. Potter...why don't you come down here next to Mr. Finnigan?" Flitwick suggested. Harry vacated his seat, giving Ron the same sort of apologetic look he had given him earlier in the week when his partner had been Terry Boot. Ron shrugged once again, but found himself feeling wary. Flitwick was now looking up at him, clearly deep in thought. "And Mr. Weasley...why not work with...Miss Granger?"

Ron's jaw dropped. Not again! Surely there were better people he could work with! He'd even happily work with Neville! But Flitwick had already moved on. Scowling, Ron picked up his stuff and moved down next to Hermione. At least in working with her, he'd get to sit next to Harry, whose partner was four seats down from her.

"Hello, again," she said with a sigh. Her brow was furrowed with annoyance at this latest development, and Ron almost wanted to point out that he was probably more frustrated with this than she was. After all, he was the one who had to deal with an insufferable know-it-all. All she had to deal with was a normal person, which was obviously too much for her handle.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick reminded them after pairing the entire class up. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest!" Ron rolled his eyes; all of their teachers who taught spells had told them that ridiculous story. It really was rather getting annoying.

When he turned them to it, Ron instantly took possession of their feather. He really didn't fancy seeing Hermione doing it right on the first attempt and then having to spend the rest of the class huffing in his ear about how stupid he was. It would be best to get the huffing out of the way first.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron said, swishing and flicking Charlie's old wand. Nothing happened. So, he tried again. He did it over and over again, but it just lay there, motionless. He rather liked Hermione's tactic of not saying anything to him about his failures. It seemed that this week had taught her something after all.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he tried again after about thirty minutes of shouting it in different ways. Hermione winced, pursed her lips and looked elsewhere.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he said, stressing the second word more than the first. Her hand that was resting on the desk balled into a fist. Ron ignored it.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he repeated swishing and flicking grandly. Hermione snapped.

"No! You're saying it wrong!" she said bossily. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long." The last part wasn't a request, but a command. Ron gaped at her indignantly.

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," he spat back at her. Hermione glared, but didn't hesitate in pulling back her sleeves and waving her wand ostentatiously.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she said grandly. And, sure enough, the feather rose steadily in the air, drifting gracefully above the class.

Professor Flitwick was full of praise. All he could do was tell Hermione how brilliant she was and how she was good enough to be a Ravenclaw like him. Ron scowled as she offered him a smug, triumphant look.

The rest of class, Ron didn't touch his wand or the feather. He was sick of all of this. He didn't want to be here anymore, not with the likes of Hermione Granger around. She was always so perfect. No one compared to her, and she knew it. He hated that about her...he hated everything about her, from her stupid bushy hair, to her ridiculously large front teeth, to the entire holier-than-thou attitude. He just wanted to be away from her, to never have to see her stupid face again.

When class was finally dismissed, Ron made a beeline for the door, Harry followed quickly, and as soon as they were out in the corridor, Ron didn't hesitate to complain.

"I hate her," he said, his nostrils flaring with rage. "She's been doing that to me all bloody week. It's no wonder nobody can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly."

Suddenly, someone went streaking in front of them, knocking Harry roughly into Ron. They both watched her; the bushy hair bouncing wildly with the speed at which she was walking, her head lowered.

"I think she heard you," Harry said sadly, his eyes following Hermione's swiftly disappearing back.

"So? She must have realized she's got no friends," Ron said aggressively. Deep down in his stomach he felt a twist of discomfort. As much as he hated her, he didn't want to be held responsible for making her cry or something. Girls were already awkward enough without having to deal with them in tears.

It was shocking to realize fifteen minutes into Herbology that Hermione wasn't going to show up. They set to working on their Abbot Cabbage pots without her, and Ron felt that each minute was an eternity. Where could she be? Had she actually heard what he said? Despite being angry with her, he hoped she hadn't. He wasn't so callous as to not care if he hurt someone's feelings, even if they had been undeniably rude to him earlier.

"Where do you suppose she is?" Ron asked Harry and Neville, who were the closest to him.

"I don't know," Harry said darkly. "But her Cabbage isn't going to take care of itself."

"It's not like Hermione, is it?" Neville asked. "I mean, she gets migraines all the time, but always forces herself to go to class. I hope she's not too sick."

"Wait...she does?" Ron asked, feeling a tinge of guilt. Maybe that was why she had been so mean to him today and yesterday? What if she had been struggling with a headache, and he'd been snapping at her the whole time. Ron could feel his own head ache with worry.

"Yeah...all the time, actually," Neville said with a shrug. "She's one of the hardest working people I know." Ron groaned. She really did take all of this school stuff seriously.

After class, Ron hung around, pretending that he needed to ask Professor Sprout a question about his Cabbage. Harry hurried off to lunch without him, which made Ron feel better about what he was about to do. He really didn't want Harry to know the sort of compassion he'd been feeling for Hermione ever since learning about her migraines.

"Professor?" Ron asked.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" she addressed him, cleaning dirt from underneath her finger nails.

"Erm...Hermione wasn't in class today, obviously, and I think it might have been because of me," he said as quickly as he could.

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Well...I was kind of mean to her in Charms because she corrected me and I didn't like it. I thought...you know, since I'm at fault...maybe I should look after her Cabbage? Just, you know, repot it like we did in class. I don't want her to get behind on work because I was being a prat."

Professor Sprout's eyes widened now to large round disks. "That's very big of you," she said. "Normally, I would say that it is her own fault that she chose not to come to class, but...well...I think you should take on this responsibility. Maybe it will teach you a lesson in sensitivity?"

Ron nodded, though he very much doubted it. He just wanted to feel slightly less guilty for his behavior. Working as quickly as he could, he removed her Cabbage, put it into a different pot, threw in the dark soil that was specifically made for cabbages of all sorts, and covered it so that only the small, red leaves were visible. Then, because Professor Sprout's back was turned, Ron took the bottle of rum from the shelf and poured some over the plant. "Sorry I can't sing to you," he whispered to it. It wiggled in what Ron hoped was contentment.

"All done, Professor!" he announced. Then, he gathered up his bag and headed inside.

The general gossip at lunch amongst the first year Gryffindors was the sudden disappearance of Hermione after first period. Neville swore that it had to be a headache, but Lavender Brown was certain that Ron had to have said something stupid and mean to her. Ron stared down at his food miserably; he really wished he'd been able to control his temper that morning.

They were all shooed out of the Great Hall at 1:00 that afternoon, and Harry and Ron decided to go play with his Nimbus 2000 a little bit. It really did Ron some good. He had mounted the broom feeling dreadful, but once in the air, he forgot all about potentially making Hermione sneak off to Merlin knew where. All that mattered was that he was up in the sky flying one of the premier racing brooms, looking down on the grounds of Hogwarts with a feeling of freedom burgeoning in his chest. Harry was nothing but a tiny speck on the ground below. After some daring moves (one of which included diving shallowly at Harry and pulling out of it before colliding with his friend. Harry had remained in his spot on the grass, clearly not afraid that Ron's skills were lack-luster and that he'd crash into him. Of course he wouldn't; Ron had shown Harry in Flying Class how superb he was on a broom), Ron zoomed back to the earth, his feet touching down on the grass lightly.

"I love this broom," he said with a grin, handing it back to Harry.

"So do I," his friend said, taking his broom and turning back toward the school.

It wasn't until they reached the common room that Ron remembered that Hermione had disappeared. Now everyone was talking about it, not just the first years. Everyone believed that it had to be Ron's fault, since he had been working with her in Charms that morning. Feeling empowered by the gossip, Fred and George approached Harry and Ron the moment they saw them enter the room. Ron immediately wished they hadn't returned to the common room, but there was no turning back.

"So, what's all this about the fight between you and your girlfriend?" Fred asked.

"You didn't break up, did you?" George inquired, looking concerned.

"What?" Harry looked between the three brothers, clearly confused. Ron had to fight the urge to groan.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said through gritted teeth. In the corner of the room Dean and Seamus tried to avoid his gaze.

"You keep telling yourself that," Fred said.

"Just leave me alone," Ron grumbled, pushing his way into the common room. Thankfully, Fred and George stepped back to allow him through, and he moved over as quickly as he could to his and Harry's usual spot. "Sorry about that. They've been teasing me about her for a while now."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because apparently Dean and Seamus told them that they reckoned that I fancied her," Ron said scowling.

"Do you?" Harry wondered aloud.

"No! Don't be thick!" Ron exclaimed. "I mean, there have been times where I felt sorry for her, but that doesn't mean I fancy her. We're not even friends! Don't you have to be friends first before you like them?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I've never fancied anyone before."

"Neither have I," Ron quickly said.

When six o'clock rolled around, all of the students began to head down to the Great Hall. They were made, for whatever reason, to walk in order of their year down from Gryffindor Tower, and as they moved slowly throughout the school, Ron scanned the crowd for her. Surely Hermione wouldn't allow something stupid he said to make her miss the Halloween feast! But she was nowhere in sight.

"Lavender!" Parvati Patil said behind him. Ron tried not to listen; why should he? His name wasn't Lavender. "I found Hermione!" Ron perked up at the news and looked to his right, where Harry was walking next to him, looking just as interested.

"Oh really? Where is she?" Lavender asked rather too casually. Ron scowled.

"She's in the girls' bathroom on the first floor. I found her there before heading up to the common room and asked if she needed to talk, but she said she didn't want to be bothered. It was rather rude, to be honest," Parvati replied.

"Yes, well...Hermione doesn't have the best manners, but you can't really blame her. After all, she did have a worthless twit for a partner in Charms today."

Ron's fist balled and he had half a mind to turn around and tell Lavender Brown what he truly thought of her. How dare she say that about him? If she knew what he had been through this week with Hermione, she would be feeling sorry for him, not her! Ron's face and ears went scarlet, but before he could react, Harry whispered urgently in his ear, "Just leave it, Ron. She doesn't know you."

And Ron cooled down. That was right. Lavender didn't know him and he didn't know her. She was just making assumptions about him that were ridiculous. Besides, while it would have been nice to give her a piece of his mind, he really didn't fancy making yet another girl cry today. It was bad enough that Hermione was cloistered away in the first floor girls' bathroom. At least I know where she is now, Ron thought.

Thoughts of her briefly left his mind as they descended the marble staircase and entered the Great Hall. The decorations were truly spectacular; jack-o-lanterns were suspended in midair, the ghosts were pirouetting smoothly through the air, live bats fluttered to and fro in the rafters. It was hauntingly beautiful, and Ron's jaw dropped at the sight of it all. "Wow, Percy wasn't lying," Harry mumbled. "This is pretty amazing."

As they sat down in their seats, Ron was reminded miserably of Hermione, due to the glint of his silverware twinkling in the candlelight. They had worked hard together on the Spork Spell this week, and even if they had fought a few times in the process, it made him sad to think that he had hurt her so bad today. She really wasn't that bad, was she? She had proven to him a couple of times that she was capable of having fun. What if those had just been really bad days for her?

Smiling, Ron thought of his pie spoon. It had been ridiculously funny at the time, but now it was a bittersweet memory. Would Hermione ever laugh at anything he did again? He hoped so. She had a beautiful sounding laugh and it made him good to think that he was the cause of it. Looking down at the spoon, he imagined it was a fork, but then thought of pie. "Argenti Forkus!" he said, and grinned stupidly at the backward bent formation it took.

"Still having trouble with that one, are you?" Harry asked, looking amused.

"No...I was just thinking of Hermione," he said. "I did this accidentally in class...made the spoon go round. It made her laugh." Harry nodded, but looked bemused all the same. "I think I might apologize to her in the morning, you know?" Ron tried to say it as casually as possible. He really didn't want Harry to see just how guilty he was feeling.

"I think that's a good idea," his friend replied.

Food magically appeared on their plates, and Ron was just about to cast Finite Incantatum on his spoon in order to eat some potatoes, when Professor Quirrell, his turban askew, rushed into the Hall. "Troll - in the dungeon - thought you ought to know," he said, leaning against the staff table weakly. Then, he passed out roughly on the stone floor.

Everyone screamed as panic ensued. Food was dropped, goblets were knocked over, benches were scooted back, and people were pushed. Ron reached down and grabbed Harry roughly by the back of the robes; he had seemed unable to move. He was on the verge of sprinting toward the door to the Hall, when a loud bang resounded in the vast room. People all around him (including himself) flinched at the noise, but it had the desired effect. Everyone was silenced, and all of their eyes moved patiently to Professor Dumbledore, who was the one who demanded their attention.

"Prefects - lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" he commanded. Ron turned toward Percy, putting all of his faith in his older brother.

"Right, then," Percy said, taking charge of the situation. His face was white and he looked terrified, but Ron had to admit, he didn't seem to be losing his cool. "No pushing! Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!" It was hard not to respect him. Even Fred and George, who would have normally found such language from Percy as a cause for mockery, followed him obediently.

They filtered out into the entrance hall, moving single file up the marble staircase to allow room for the Ravenclaws, who also headed upstairs. Ron briefly wondered where the Slytherins were going to go, since their common room was, without a doubt, in the dungeons. Would they take them outside? That seemed like the logical answer to him. There probably weren't any trolls out on the grounds.

They were just about to climb up another staircase, when Harry suddenly grabbed his arm. "I've just thought - Hermione!"

"What about her?" Ron asked, confused. He had forgotten all about his fight with her after hearing about the troll. Why on earth was Harry thinking of all that when their lives were in mortal danger?!

"She doesn't know about the troll!" Harry exclaimed worriedly. Ron's stomach twisted in knots. That was right...Hermione was in the bathroom on this floor. She could have no idea that she was in danger. Biting his lip, Ron nodded.

"Oh, alright," he agreed. Looking up at Percy, he worried what his brother's reaction would be if he saw him sneaking away. He didn't care about losing House Points, but he did care about his brother forcing him to keep heading up to the Tower. What if Hermione ran into the troll and he wasn't able to save her because of his stupid Prefect brother? "But Percy better not see us."

Somehow they were able to manage getting away from him undetected. Silently they moved down the corridor, trying desperately to avoid getting caught. They had to pause briefly, because Professor Snape crossed their path. Thankfully, he didn't notice them. Still, Harry seemed to think he was up to something, so they followed him a bit, seeing him head up a staircase that they both knew lead up to the forbidden corridor.

"He's heading for the third floor!" Harry exclaimed. Ron was about to wonder aloud about it as well, but then something hit him. It smelled an awful lot like his mother's compost heap at home. The stench of rotting meat and vegetables that have sat out in the sun for far too long reached his nose, and he grimaced.

"Can you smell something?" he asked Harry, gagging slightly on the odor. Harry nodded weakly, his nose crinkled. Then they heard the low thumping of footsteps and an ominous sort of dragging sound.

"Quick," Ron whispered, pulling on Harry's sleeve of his robes. "Over here." They crouched down behind a suit of armor and watched in horror as a massive, stinky body moved past them. Its head was small, its body was huge, and its legs looked an awful lot like mossy green tree stumps. Behind it, it dragged a large, poorly whittled piece of wood that Ron assumed was a club. Ron fought to remain as still and as calm as possible, but it was rather difficult. That thing could easily squash him like a bug and not even give the act a second thought.

It peered into an open doorway, considered and slipped inside. Ron wondered if they could make a break for it, but Harry whispered urgently, "The key's in the lock. We could lock it in." Yes, he could see it now. A shiny golden key was jutting from the lock of the door. Maybe if they snuck up on it, the troll wouldn't realize?

"Good idea," he whispered back. Leaving the safety of the nook behind the suit of armor, Ron and Harry crept as quietly as possible up to the door, and slammed it shut, twisting the key roughly in its lock.

"Yes!" they exclaimed in unison. They began to take off up the corridor, proud of themselves and their victory, but then they heard it. A high-pitched, terrified scream. Ron had never heard anything so awful in his life, and it immediately dawned on him why they were hearing it.

They were in the first floor for a reason. That door was opened for a reason. It was there in case any girls wanted to use the restroom. Hermione had been in the restroom.

"Oh no," Ron said weakly. She screamed again and it ripped through his very soul. She was going to die. They had to help her.

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry shouted together. Simultaneously, they tore back up the corridor, ripping the door open as hard as they could once they got it unlocked. It was a dreadful sight, one that Ron was certain would give him nightmares for a long time to come. The bathroom was a shambles; sinks had been smashed, stalls had been ripped up, and toilets had been knocked over. Hermione was shrinking hopelessly against a wall, her face white and scared.

"Confuse it!" Harry ordered Ron. He wasn't quite sure how he could do that. What was there to confuse it with? He didn't know any spells for confusing things. But Harry demonstrated for him, and Ron watched blankly as his friend picked up a tap that had been knocked from its sink by the massive club and threw it against the wall. The troll halted in its tracks, stopping mere feet from the terrified Hermione. For a moment, it seemed too confused to do much of anything, but then it turned and looked right at Harry, setting its slow progression for him.

Ron desperately hoped for a split-second that Harry could come up with another clever plan to get the troll to stop marching toward him, purposefully pounding its club around the small room. But Harry was backing up, looking terrified, and Hermione was completely useless right now. Turning back, Ron saw she was curled in a ball, crying and shaking. It was then that he came to the conclusion; it was his turn. If the troll came after him, it was better. He couldn't let Harry die, nor could he let Hermione. He was going to make it his goal to have the troll focused on him at all times.

"Oi, pea-brain!" Ron shouted loudly, whilst picking up a pipe from the floor and flinging it straight at the troll. It didn't seem to notice the metal rod hitting it hard in the shoulder, but it did turn its head toward him; evidently it had at least heard the insult. Wildly wondering for a moment if it knew what the words "pea-brain" meant, Ron backed up ever so slightly as the troll lumbered toward him instead.

Harry sprinted as fast as he could toward Hermione, futilely trying to get Hermione to vacate the bathroom. But she wouldn't move, and they were making so much noise that Ron knew he had to keep distracting the troll. Backing up until he hit solid wall, Ron picked up bits of wood, porcelain, and metal and hurled them at the massive body that was lumbering straight for him. Every time Harry shouted for Hermione to move, it remained focused on Ron, growling indignantly as the wood splintered in its skin and the metal hit its eyes.

Well, I'm going to die, Ron thought as the troll crept nearer. He was a mere foot away from being wacked with the club. This was it...he was going to be bludgeoned to death and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He hoped that this final act would at least prove to Hermione that he really didn't hate her and that he was sorry. He hoped she and Harry got out and found some teachers. Then they could get rid of the troll and call his parents. He really didn't mind the thought of dying; at least it was a noble death.

But Harry wouldn't think of it. Leaping from his spot next to Hermione, he somehow managed to get all the way up on the troll's shoulders, jamming his wand straight up its nose. It howled in pain, and swung around wildly stumbling back a few feet, toward the prone girl on the floor. Harry was being jerked around wildly, and he was screaming. The troll was going to end up squashing Hermione and shaking Ron's best mate to death. What could Ron do?

Not even really thinking about it, Ron whipped his chipped up old wand out of his pocket, aimed it at the troll's club, swished and flicked, then shouted in a strangely commanding voice, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

He watched, wide-eyed, as the club escaped the troll's hand, floating up toward the ceiling, turning over pathetically. I hope it falls on its head... Ron thought hatefully. Obeying his mental command, the club dropped as if released from a hook on which it was hanging, hitting the troll's dome of a head with an awful crack that resounded in the bathroom. It made a noise - a mix between a gasp and a grunt - then collapsed forward, right at Ron's feet.

All he could do was to stand there gaping at what he had done. He didn't even put his wand down; he just maintained his posture, paralyzed in shock. Harry pulled his legs from underneath the troll and managed to stand shakily, while Hermione stayed put, apparently too scared and tired to move.

Harry and Hermione were talking, but Ron couldn't quite process it. He saw Hermione ask a question, saw Harry answer, and then watched as his friend removed his bogie covered wand from the troll's nose. Still, Ron couldn't move or speak. He was just stuck and amazed. It was astounding that he had somehow managed to do a spell that he hadn't been able to do properly in class perfectly with one try. Had it been the intensity of the moment that had caused it? Or had Hermione's tutoring in class stuck in his brain? Also, he hadn't known that you could guide a levitated object with your mind! How had that happened? It had just done what he wished it to do, with the most astonishing result.

Most amazing, though, was that he, Ron Weasley, had knocked out the troll. It had always been his assumption that if anyone did anything brave and daring, it would have been Harry. And yes, his jumping on the troll's back had been brave, but Ron had been the one to defeat it. Ron hadn't even given the use of his wand a second thought. It had just been as natural as using his hand, really.

A bang resounded from outside, and for a moment Ron thought that another troll must have been lose in the castle. Wheeling around to face the door, his wand still raised, he saw Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell rush into the room, all with their own wands held aloft. Quirrell nearly passed out at the sight of the monster and Snape rushed forward to examine it, giving Harry and Ron an odd sort of glance; hateful, yet impressed. McGonagall looked beyond angry.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she demanded, bestowing her accusing glare on Harry and Ron, but somehow managing to ignore Hermione. That was fine with Ron, of course. It wasn't as though Hermione had known about the troll. "You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Harry looked at Ron pleadingly, as if begging his friend to come up with an excuse. Ron, who was still holding his wand up stupidly, didn't know what to say. But someone else spoke out before his mind even began to formulate any sort of lie.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me," Hermione said weakly. She had finally found the courage to leave her spot on the floor, wearily walking over to stand next to the bewildered Ron.

"Miss Granger!" their teacher exclaimed.

"I went looking for the troll, because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read about them," Hermione lied. Now Ron's jaw dropped in earnest, and so did his wand. He stared at her, unable to fathom what had just come from her mouth. He hadn't thought it was possible for her to break any school rules, especially those pertaining to telling teachers the truth. "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was just about to finish me off when they arrived." Hermione looked solemnly down at her feet, a clear look of guilt about her. Ron wondered if this was part of her act, or genuine remorse at having to lie to Professor McGonagall.

Their teacher went to look them over and Ron's jaw snapped shut. He tried to look as humble as possible, as though it really was no big deal that he had just saved Hermione from her own stupidity, even if the second part wasn't really true. She glanced at them skeptically, but then, an odd sort of smile graced her face as she viewed them. She's proud of us! Ron thought.

Of course she was. Two of her newest Gryffindors had proven themselves tonight. Three, actually, if you were to buy the lie that Hermione had ventured after the troll herself. It was an odd sort of feeling, the first time Ron had ever felt that he lived up to beyond the family name. He had defended a girl tonight, had saved her life. How many other Weasleys could claim that they'd rescued someone from the edge of death before? Not very many.

* * *

They were marching down the corridors together. Hermione had been sent up to the dormitories before them, having only had five House Points removed from Gryffindor. Ron and Harry had earned five each. Of course, Ron had rather thought that they deserved more than that. After all, they had been the only Gryffindors to go after Hermione even though many of them knew she was missing (and a couple even knew she was in the bathroom) and they had managed to capture the beast that had interrupted the Halloween dinner.

But Ron wasn't going to complain. He didn't even want to think about that, really. What was on the forefront of his mind was Hermione's lie. She had gone the entire year so far, presenting herself as this girl who never did anything against the rules. Yet she had blatantly lied to not only a professor, but the Head of Gryffindor! As they moved down the halls and up stairwells, Ron tried to figure it out. Why was she suddenly so willing to break the rules for them? Was she actually willing to change? Or was this a one-time deal?

Harry kept glancing nervously over at him, and Ron knew they needed to talk. They needed to discuss repaying Hermione for the lie, how they treated her, and why it had been that way. Ron could no longer accept being hateful and mean toward her. They may have saved her life, but she had saved them from punishment, which was against everything she stood for.

Not knowing how to initiate the conversation, Ron blurted out, "We should have gotten more than ten points."

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's," Harry replied.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron said in a voice that bordered on cheerfulness. "Mind you, we did save her." He didn't know why he said the second part, but it turned out to be for the better.

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry scolded him. Now Ron knew what to say.

"Yeah, and we definitely wouldn't have needed to save her if I wouldn't have been a prat to her today," Ron replied. Harry didn't look over at his best friend, but nodded in agreement. Ron continued, "I don't want to snap at her like that anymore. She's a better person than I thought." Again, Harry didn't reply, but only because they'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"There's a troll in the castle, you know," she said disapprovingly.

"Never mind that," Ron uttered. "Pig snout."

Stepping into the common room, they saw all of the Gryffindor students packed in, eating the rest of their feast, which had been sent up. The only person not eating was Hermione, who was leaning against a wall looking nervous and awkward. People were throwing glances at her, and Ron knew why; not only had she been missing all day, but she was positively covered with debris from the bathroom. Looking down at his own robes, Ron saw he was dusty as well. Predictably, eyes zoomed over to Ron and Harry as they both approached the girl.

Up close, Ron found he couldn't look at her. It was difficult, trying to express that he'd spent the last two months being entirely wrong about her. He wondered briefly if she was experiencing similar emotions. She had always thought that Ron and Harry broke the rules just to do it. Now, he hoped, she saw that they only broke them when they had to.

Still, he was grateful for what she had done tonight, and he knew she deserved to have that shown to her. "Thanks," he said, and was surprised to hear two separate voices say it at the same time as him. The three of them all looked up, staring into each other's eyes for the briefest of moments, before hurrying off to get food of their own.

"Where are we sitting?" Harry asked after they loaded up their plates.

"With Hermione, of course," Ron said with a shrug. He turned back and wasn't too surprised to see Harry smiling widely at him.

"Oh, yes, of course," Harry said. Ron didn't reply to the cheeky comment; he rather thought it should be obvious that they should sit with her. After all, they'd just been through a lot together. Moving slowly through the packed room, they managed to eventually join Hermione in her corner. When she saw them approach, she smiled warmly at them, scooting over to allow them room on the small sofa she usually occupied.

"A salad?" Ron asked as he sat next to her. Harry plopped down on his other side and looked at Hermione's plate. "That's all you're going to eat?"

"Well, after everything that happened tonight, I'm really not that hungry," she replied.

"Really? I'm starving!" Ron said loudly, looking down at his two plates of food (one full of meat and potatoes, the other loaded up with dessert). Hermione crinkled her nose.

"I can see that," she said distastefully.

An idea formed in his head, something that he hoped would prove that he was over all the unpleasantness of the two projects they worked on this week. Sitting his plates down on the low table in front of him, he scooted the dessert plate a little toward Hermione and said, "At least have a little pie."

The effect was instantaneous. Hermione's smile brightened, the dimples appearing out of nowhere. She giggled slightly, her cheeks turning pink and said, "I'd love some pie."

"Good," Ron said grinning widely. "Glad that's settled." Turning to Harry, he saw his friend's utterly bemused expression and laughed loudly. They had a great deal of fun demonstrating to Harry how, if you thought about pie while doing the Spork Spell, it would turn the spoon backward on itself.

"Oh!" Harry laughed. "That's what had you two in hysterics the other day!"

"What was even funnier was his response to Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, now positively red in the face from all the laughing. "'Mr. Wealey,'" she said in a surprisingly good impression of their Transfiguration professor. "'What happened to your spoon?!'"

"Pie," Ron responded, and they burst out laughing all over again. It was as though they'd never been mad at each other, as though they never fought. People were looking at them like they were crazy, but Ron didn't care. Hermione was fun to be around, and he was glad that he could finally admit it to himself and everyone else.

"Sorry to break up the merriment," George suddenly asked, approaching the trio with Fred at his heels. "But we were wondering why the three of you are all covered in dirt?"

They all looked down at themselves, having forgotten their dirty wardrobes. "Troll," they all answered simultaneously. Fred and George's jaws dropped.

"You saw the troll?" Fred asked. "I'm surprised you managed to get away from Percy!"

"It's not that hard," Ron said with a shrug. From across the room, Ron could see Percy scowling at him; apparently it was offensive that Ron and Harry had managed to slip away from his watch.

"So, how did you manage to get away from the troll?" George asked.

"Probably some teachers," Fred replied. "You know ickle Ronniekins can't save himself, George. He can barely stand up to us." The twins both laughed, and Ron knew what they were thinking about : The time they had held him down and dropped spiders on his head. Ron felt his ears go red at the thought of it, embarrassed and angered. He had hated his brothers for a long time after that one.

"Actually," Hermione suddenly spoke up. "Ron was the one that knocked it out." She gave them a mean sort of look. The kind that said they better leave her friend alone or she'd make them pay. Fred and George didn't seem to notice, though. Their jaws dropped again as they looked at Ron with an astonished sort of admiration.

"No you didn't!" George said, disbelieving. "Did you?"

"Yeah, actually he did," Harry said. "With its own club." Their eyes bulged at the information.

"How did you manage that?" Fred asked.

"Levitation Charm," Hermione said with a shrug.

For the first time, Ron really did feel modest about it. He had been proud with himself at first, but seeing how the twins were reacting made him feel sheepish and undeserving of the attention. "Well, Harry stuck his wand up its nose," Ron mumbled meekly.

"In that order?" George asked, looking between them. "Troll bogies may be fascinating, Harry, but I don't think it's right to pick their nose when they're unconscious."

Harry snorted and said, "Well, I was curious." Everyone laughed, even Fred and George. They then asked to be filled in on everything, and listened raptly as the three of them took turns telling their portion of the story. By the time they finished, a whole crowd had formed around them, hanging on to their every word.

"And then, the club just fell," Ron finished. "McGonagall, Quirrell, and Snape came in and gave us House Points." He made sure to leave out the fact that Hermione had lost House Points and that she only did, because she lied; he wasn't sure if she wanted to share that with anyone. And besides, if the wrong person found out that Hermione had lied, she could be in a lot of trouble.

"Snape gave you House Points?" Seamus asked incredulously.

"Well, no," Harry said, "He just came in and looked at the troll to make sure it was really out."

"You didn't kill it, did you?" Neville weakly said. Their story made him look rather ill. Ron figured he was trying to imagine himself in the same situation.

"No, it's just knocked out," he said kindly.

"You do realize, Ron, that I'm going to have to write to Mum and Dad about this?" Percy asked with an irritated glare. Ron got the vague impression that he was jealous of his little brother.

"Go ahead," he challenged. "I think they'd be proud of me."

Percy stood up taller. "Well, you broke the rules, so perhaps not."

"And you know what? If these two hadn't broken the rules, I probably would have died!" Hermione said hotly, standing up suddenly to glare Percy in the eye. It was oddly impressive to see her jump up and stare someone down like that, even if she was only a little first year. Percy looked pathetic in comparison.

"Well, I'm glad you survived," he said in what sounded like a reasonable tone. "But Ron and Harry should have waited until they got back to the common room and then brought the situation to me."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Fred cut her off. "What? So you could have been the hero of the hour?"

"No! I-"

"Sit down, Perce, before your overinflated head carries you away," George said loudly. Percy's nostrils flared in contempt.

"No! I will not sit down! I'm going to go upstairs and write a letter to our parents!" Percy said angrily. Launching across the room, his long legs carried him to the stairs in two bounds. He disappeared up them, and their ears were all greeted to the sound of a slamming door as he entered his dormitory.

"Lousy git," Ron said.

"No matter," Hermione shrugged sitting herself down and grabbing her barely eaten plate of salad. "He'll get over it, Ron. He's just jealous."

Ron nodded. He knew how his brother felt, because he'd felt that way for eleven years now. It hurt to be overshadowed by your siblings. Even though Percy had been a massive jerk about the situation, he still managed to sympathize with him. For years he'd watched his brothers do extraordinary things and get all this attention. Now, Percy was finding it hard to cope with the fact that his youngest brother had done something that Percy had never gotten to do.

Somberly, Ron picked up his plate and shoveled potatoes in his mouth. The group around them seemed to take this as a sign that they weren't going to hear anymore stories or explanations. Slowly they dispersed until Ron, Harry, and Hermione were completely alone again.

Hermione kept throwing Ron worried glances. It had to be hard, watching your new friend fight with his brother. But it happened quite a lot between Percy and, well...every other Weasley. It really wasn't that big of a deal. Still, Ron knew that he would have to talk to Percy about it. After all, he'd felt inadequate loads of times before.

"I wonder," Harry suddenly said, staring down at the table in front of him. Ron and Hermione both looked over curiously. Perhaps he had some good insight into how Ron should approach this new trouble with Percy? "What happens to the spoon when you think of cake?"

It was the perfect tension breaker. The rest of the evening was spent laughing and enjoying each other's company.

That night in bed, Ron didn't think much about Percy, even though it would have been the chief concern of his had they never gone back to laughing. Instead, he thought of his new friend and how brilliantly wonderful she was. He only wished he'd realized that sooner. Perhaps then he'd never have had to face a troll.