Ronald Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Nine:

Missions and Favors

Ron,

Why haven't you written me back?! I've been waiting since September to hear from you, and all I know about you is what I've heard from Mum and Dad! Don't you care about me anymore? Or are you too busy with your new friends that you don't think it's necessary to write to me?

I want to know about the troll. Mum was furious and Dad was proud, but other than that, I know nothing. I want to know about how on earth you became friends with that Hermione girl when you told me she's the most annoying person on the planet? That Hagrid bloke wrote Mum a letter saying you'd made friends with her! How?! And PLEASE tell me how Harry is! Has he said anything about me?

And I WANT to know what does the bloody Sorting!!

If I don't hear back from you in a week, I'm sending the present I got for Christmas for you to either Fred or George.

Ginny.

Ron grimaced as he snuck a glance at the mean-spirited note he had received that morning at breakfast. When he first read the letter, he had actually groaned out loud at how angry Ginny seemed. But not wanting either Hermione or Harry to know that his sister was now infuriated with him, because he had broken his promise to her, Ron had quickly shoved it into his bag and headed out of the Hall and upstairs for Charms.

It had been nearly two weeks since that fateful Quidditch match, where Hermione decided that Snape really was after whatever Dumbledore was hiding for Nicolas Flamel. Ever since, there had really only been one thing on the trio's minds: Find out who Flamel was. It was the key to the entire mystery. It would clue them into what sort of thing Hagrid took out of the vault in Diagon Alley, and just why Snape wanted it. The only problem was trying to figure out a way to discover the secret.

There were only two ways to really figure anything out at Hogwarts. Either ask a teacher or go to the library. They really couldn't ask any professors, since they weren't supposed to know about the three-headed dog or the package to begin with (and something told Ron that if an adult were to hear the words, "Nicolas Flamel," they would get suspicious). The only adult they could rely on had become cautiously quiet with them ever since that Saturday when they'd wheedled out of him who Dumbledore was helping. He stuck to only talking about the weather or asking them how their classes were going or how their families were doing. Anything that came close to the taboo subject was strictly ignored.

So, the library it was. The only problem with looking in the library was that it was seemingly endless, or so Ron had originally thought when they had embarked on this plan of theirs. One by one, they took the books out of their spots, checked the indexes or skimmed through them, and came to the conclusion that Nicolas Flamel was not in them. It was a never ending process and it was beginning to drive Ron insane. Today alone, he had looked in twelve different volumes and found nothing.

When Harry and Hermione both scampered off to find more books (Hermione had actually started keeping a list of books she had checked and books that could potentially mention Flamel), Ron had used it as a chance to go over his sister's letter once again. She sounded really mad at him, and to be honest he didn't blame her. He hadn't written a single word to her since his second letter. Looking around to make sure that neither Harry nor Hermione were around, Ron pulled out a roll of parchment and hastily began writing down a letter for her.

Dear Ginny,

I'm SO sorry. I've just been so busy with everything. I know that's a lame excuse, but you'll see once you get here. Once you really start making friends and getting comfortable, it gets harder and harder to have any free time.

So, the troll...I'll tell you the whole story, since I don't think you'll hate me for it. I ended up hurting Hermione's feelings in class on Halloween. She corrected me and I snapped at her. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I did. I told Harry afterward that I hated her and I guess she heard it. We didn't see her anywhere the rest of the day and I was starting to feel really guilty when I heard someone say that she was in the girls' bathroom. She had been there the whole day crying. I decided that the next day, I would apologize, but for now I wanted to eat at the feast. Then Professor Quirrell (who teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts) came running in screaming about a troll in the dungeon. We all started panicking, but Dumbledore told us to calm down and go back to our common rooms. We were on our way back, when suddenly Harry and I remembered that Hermione was in the bathroom. So we ran after her and saw the troll going into a room. We decided that we could lock it in, but once we did, we heard a scream. We had locked it in with Hermione, Ginny! So after a few minutes, we both ran in and began trying to distract the troll and get Hermione out. But she couldn't move. It was about to attack me and finish me off, when Harry jumped on its back and rammed his wand up its nose. Then I levitated its club and knocked it out. Hermione ended up lying for us when the teachers came in. She told them that she had decided to go after the troll herself and that we were heroes. That's what started our friendship, I guess.

I feel really bad for hating her now, Ginny. She's really nice and ALWAYS helps me with my homework. She's not as stubborn or strict as I thought either. I kind of feel stupid about the way I had hated her so much. Of course, we still fight and stuff, but it's all fun.

No, Harry has not mentioned you. I told him about you guys going to Romania, though. He thought that was cool.

Part of the reason I haven't written back is because I'm pretty certain that the code won't work. It always has when I know I'm not sending it to you, but even if I think that I'll write it down for myself and then just send it to you it either doesn't work or it goes missing. I'll try though:

This was the part Ron was dreading. He had been getting very frustrated with the process. A couple of times, he could have sworn that the scraps of parchment that he had written the code on had vanished in his very own hand, but he couldn't be sure. He had always tried checking around the place where he was working, but was never successful. Ron was beginning to think that there really was no way around this. Ginny would just have to find out about the Sorting Hat next year.

Still, he had to try. The way the code was set up was that twenty-six numbers ran backward down the alphabet (A was number 26, Z was number one). It really wasn't that complicated, and Ron rather thought it was far too simple to outwit the magic of the hat. He would try to get around it, though. If all went according to plan (which it wouldn't), Ron knew that the code should read: 8-12-9-7-18-13-20 / 19-26-7. Pressing his quill down onto the parchment, Ron tried. But his hand wouldn't move. He just kept pressing down harder and harder until finally the quill tip broke off.

"Damn it," he muttered, reaching into his bag for a replacement. Before going back to work on his letter, Ron checked to see if the coast was still clear. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but Hermione was clearly visible in Periodicals. Chances were, she'd be back soon. Ron hastened to finish his letter.

I'm sorry, Gin, but I just can't do it. It won't let me. You'll have to come up with something cleverer. Or you'll just have to give up and find out next year.

I have to go. Lots of work to do. I'll write back sooner next time, I promise.

Lots of love,

Ron

Ron looked down at the rather long letter and sighed in relief. Tomorrow morning he'd send it out. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione marching toward the table with a tottering pile of newspapers. Part of him wanted to jump up and help her, but another part was too afraid to be caught doing something other than his homework or looking up the elusive Nicolas Flamel. Rather clumsily, he opened the book he had been going over earlier, and pretended to be deeply absorbed in it.

"Oof!!" Hermione exclaimed, plopping the heavy stack on the table before him. Panting she sarcastically said, "Thanks for the help."

"Mmm..." Ron replied, still faking his interest in the book.

"Are you still on that one? I would have thought you would have moved on by now!" Hermione rebuked him impatiently.

"Well, forgive me for wanting to check it thoroughly," he dryly replied.

Hermione snorted. "You? Check a book thoroughly? Never!" Ron pretended to be outraged, but Hermione just smirked at him. Apparently she wasn't buying it. As if to illustrate this, she added, "So what were you writing, Mr. Meticulous?"

Oh. So she had seen him. Ron was hoping that she hadn't noticed. He really didn't want to be seen as the friend who didn't care about the problem they were facing. He really did care, of course he did! It was just that he had family too, and they needed his attention as well. "A letter to my sister," he said sheepishly.

"Really?" Hermione asked skeptically. One of her eyebrows rose as if to say she very much doubted Ron's sincerity. Now he was genuinely mad at her. Why couldn't she trust him?

"Yes, really. I've forgotten to write to her since September and I got an angry letter from her this morning!" Ron snapped. People all around them shushed, but Ron didn't care.

"You haven't written to her since September?!" Hermione whispered furiously at him. "Why?"

"I was busy, wasn't I?" Ron argued back. "I wrote to her now while I had a free moment. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Why? I can't stop you from writing home, Ron."

"I know, it's just...we've been so busy with this Flamel thing that I didn't want either of you thinking that I didn't care or that I was slacking. I do care and stuff. It's just, I need to write home every now and then."

"I know that!" Hermione said, looking hurt. "Don't you think I know that? I write home every chance I can get."

"Yeah, well, you're better at managing your time than I am," Ron replied. It was amazing to him how much Hermione could get done in any given day. She would always have to write in her diary, always attend class (everyone did, so that part wasn't so special, he supposed), always do her homework, always go to the library, and apparently always write home to her parents. How on earth she ever accomplished even half of it, Ron didn't know.

"I know," Hermione said again, giving him a cheeky sort of smirk. Ron rolled his eyes, and looked back to the book in his lap. Hermione began to flip through the newspapers, scanning them far more thoroughly than Ron ever would have dared (indeed, the words in the book that he was scanning over quickly were beginning to become blurry, to the point that he didn't recognize anything, let alone the name Nicolas Flamel). Within five minutes, Ron has unceremoniously plopped the book down on the table and moved on to the next. Hermione glared at him. She hated it when he mishandled books, which was part of the reason why he did it; aggravating her was far too fun.

Harry eventually joined them hidden behind a large stack of books on Healing. "I'm starting to think he doesn't even really exist," Harry said while taking off his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly.

"You think?" Ron asked apprehensively. What if that was true? What if Hagrid had said a false name to throw them off the trail?

"Don't be daft!" Hermione exclaimed in a whisper. "Of course he exists! We've all heard his name before, we just don't remember where." Ron knew she was right, of course. Ron had indeed read the name somewhere, but it was impossible for him to recall just what it was in. Something told him that he'd even heard of the name before his Hogwarts days. If that were the case, then he probably wouldn't find out until the summer, since he would have seen Flamel's name in one of his parents' books.

"Maybe I should ask Ginny to check Mum and Dad's books?" Ron mused out loud. Harry's eyes darted from the book he was reading on herbal remedies for cuts, scrapes, and bruises, a curious expression on his face. Hermione put her newspaper down and turned her skeptical eyes to him.

"I don't think we should be telling many people about this, Ron," she said gingerly. "I mean, what if she tells your parents? We'll be in trouble for sure."

"I could ask her not to tell Mum and Dad. I'm sure she'd be willing to help out. And I don't even have to tell her what it's for. Just say that Hagrid mentioned him and we're trying to figure it out." Hermione continued to frown worriedly, but Harry looked suddenly hopeful.

"That could work!" he said brightly. Chances were that Harry was just as fed up with their frequent trips to the library as he was. "The only thing is can she be trusted?"

Ron felt annoyed. "Of course she can be trusted! She's my sister, isn't she?"

"That's not what I meant," Harry quickly said, hoping to avoid a row with Ron. "I mean, what if she finds out who Flamel is and he's a really dangerous bloke? Will she still tell us or will she run to your parents? Being your sister, she'll probably want to protect you if she can."

Ron sighed in understanding. Though Harry had never had a loving family, he was beginning to understand just how one functioned. Knowing Ron and his brothers, he had quickly adjusted to seeing the protective attitudes they displayed for each other, even if they didn't always show it. Being a Weasley, how could Ginny not defend her brother if she perceived him to be in trouble? "Don't worry about that, Harry. Before I met you and Hermione, she was my best friend in the world. Still is in many ways...you can't replace a sister." He shrugged and both of his companions grinned at Ron's loyal affection for his sibling. "If I ask her not to say anything, she won't. Besides, I think it would make her feel good to be involved in something that I'm in right now. She's there alone with my parents. It's got to be boring."

"Then I think it's a good idea," Harry said happily. Ron turned to Hermione, hoping for her approval. She still looked terribly skeptical.

"Well, alright then," she finally managed to say, but she didn't look happy.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Ron said in exasperation. "We can trust her, believe me." He looked directly into her eyes, hoping to convey to her just how true his words were. Hermione looked back, and for the first time, he was aware of just how dark her eyes were. They were golden brown like her hair, but the irises made them look slightly darker. They were worried currently, glossed over in a sheet of hazy liquid. Ron tried to make his own as earnest as possible. Then, acceptance and understanding shone in Hermione's eyes. She nodded her consent, and actually meant it. Ron grinned; he hadn't known he could communicate with people like that, though something told him that he'd only be able to talk to Hermione in this way. After all, it would be a little weird if he were to stare deeply into Harry's eyes, wouldn't it?

Pulling out his note that he had written earlier to Ginny, Ron hastily added a post-script:

P.S. Can you do me a favor? Hagrid mentioned something a couple of weeks ago about a guy named Nicolas Flamel. Harry, Hermione, and I are trying to figure out who he is. I have a feeling that I've read his name before, and I was wondering if maybe you can check Mum and Dad's books for me. Also, could you not tell them about it? It's a secret. Thanks Gin.

* * *

Two more weeks passed before he finally heard back from Ginny. November was nearly over, and they had almost gone through the entire library in search of Nicolas Flamel and had come up with nothing. Ron had eagerly read her letter that morning and had chosen to reply in History of Magic, not only because he was bored out of his mind, but also because it was the one place that Harry and Hermione couldn't read over his shoulder. He really wanted to keep his reply to his sister a secret, since he was planning on going behind their back and telling Ginny everything he knew so far.

Before he wrote her, though, he decided to read once more over her rather short letter.

Dear Ron,

Thanks for the reply. I was thinking that you didn't love me anymore or something.

It's a shame about the Sorting thing. I'm trying to think of a better code, but I'm kind of on the verge of giving up. I figure if you say it's not so bad, then maybe it really isn't.

Also, I'll do what you asked, but I need to know why. What's so special about this guy? So far I haven't found anything, but can you please share more? If not, I won't help anymore.

Love,

Ginny.

Ron sighed, feeling terrible about what he was about to do. Betrayal was simply not something he wanted to become accustomed to. Still, Ginny was his sister, and he trusted her just as much as he trusted Harry and Hermione. He had to do this, otherwise, they might never find out who Nicolas Flamel was! Lifting his quill, he pretended to be working on his Herbology homework that was due the next day, by propping the book open on his desk and glancing at it interestedly. If he finished the letter before the end of class, perhaps he would actually do his homework? He began to scrawl on his parchment, pretending to be deep in thought, but really knowing exactly what he wanted to write.

Dear Ginny,

Don't ever accuse me of not loving you. You're my sister and one of my best friends. You mean the world to me.

Alright, I'll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell either Harry or Hermione once you meet them, because I promised I wouldn't write a word to you about it. Someone broke into Gringotts at the end of the summer on the same day Harry went there with Hagrid and robbed a vault that was emptied that very day. Hagrid had apparently emptied a vault that day, and when Harry mentioned it to him, he acted very weird, as though he was trying to hide something. Then, one night, Harry, Hermione, this kid named Neville, and I were wandering the castle trying to escape the Caretaker, since we were out of bed when we weren't supposed to be, when we ran into the third-floor corridor. We're not supposed to go down there, because it's forbidden. We found out why. There's a three-headed dog guarding a trap door in there! It's huge! We nearly missed being eaten by it. We thought maybe it was hiding the package that Hagrid had taken out, but we weren't sure. Then, on Halloween, the troll got in and shortly after, we noticed the Potions professor (Snape) walking around with a limp. Harry saw that his leg was bleeding badly and we thought that he must be trying to get to whatever the dog is guarding. Then, he tried to kill Harry during Harry's first Quidditch match by bewitching his broom. Hermione caught his robes on fire, so luckily he didn't succeed, but if he had, Harry surely would have died. We figure he did it, because he knew we're on to him. When we mentioned it to Hagrid, he said Snape wouldn't try to kill Harry or get past the dog, because he's a Hogwarts teacher. Then he let slip that what the dog is guarding is between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.

So we're basically trying to figure out who this Flamel bloke is so that we can figure out what it is and why Snape wants it. We want to protect it. But we're breaking a lot of school rules, which is why I need you to keep it a secret. I haven't told anyone else in the family and I don't intend to. You're the only one I trust. So PLEASE, don't tell Mum and Dad, and don't tell Harry and Hermione.

Better go. I'm actually in class right now.

Ron

Ron looked down at his note, then all around him. Harry was doodling on his parchment that he was supposed to be taking notes with. From this angle, Ron could see a broomstick, a Golden Snitch, and the words "Harry Potter" in spiky letters. Clearly he was bored. Looking toward Hermione (who thankfully sat in front of him), Ron saw that she was sitting straight up in her seat, totally engrossed in whatever it was that Professor Binns was teaching. Ron honestly had no clue where they were in this class right now. He remembered a couple of weeks ago, they discussed how part of the reason that Neanderthals disappeared from existence was because of magical people and goblins teaming together to rid the world of them (since they feasted on goblins). That had been the one interesting class they had had, Ron felt. He tried to listen in, but decided that he didn't care.

Finally he took a genuine interest in his Herbology book. He might as well do it here and now. Hermione had been absolutely irate with him on Saturday when he refused to do it with her (he had been astounded that she had waited that long to get started on it and wondered if maybe Harry and he were influencing her to lighten up a little), but he had been having too much fun playing Exploding Snap with Seamus and Harry (Dean had had to serve detention for sighing insolently at Professor Snape after the teacher yelled at him for melting his cauldron) that he hadn't cared. Now, though, he felt like a fool. Chances were that Hermione wouldn't be up to checking his work for him tonight. She would probably actually complain about the time he chose to do his work and how he should be more responsible. Hermione really was becoming predictable.

Ron read up on the use of sunlight and shadow when taking care of Smoke Lilies. Their project on Abbot Cabbage had been completed last week, and this week, they were supposed to read a chapter about their next project and summarize. It was dull work, but it was far more interesting than listening to Binns drone on and on about Merlin only knew what. By the end of class, he had somehow managed to have half of the summary written.

"That was a great lesson, don't you think?" Hermione asked the two boys excitedly as they exited the room.

Harry hastily stored his parchment full of drawings into his bag. "Oh yes," he said with mock eagerness. "Riveting." Hermione smiled back at him, and then turned to Ron with uncertain eyes.

"Absolutely!" he agreed, perhaps a bit too zealously. "Very productive." Hermione's eyes narrowed at his words, and he bestowed her with his most lopsided, innocent smile. Finally, she somehow decided that Ron must be telling the truth, and happily bounced down the marble staircase toward the Great Hall for lunch.

Behind her back, Harry and Ron gave each other knowing glances and fought hard to keep their faces straight. Neither of them had heard a word of Professor Binns' lecture, but Hermione never had to find that out. They should just let her believe that they were just as enthusiastic as she was.

* * *

Humoring Hermione had ended up being a huge mistake. Sunday night, Ron and Harry had been preparing themselves to make yet another fruitless trip to the library, but Hermione had stopped them before they could as so much as pile up all the books they needed to bring back.

"We can't go today!" she said incredulously.

"Why not?" they had asked in unison. It was strange to see Hermione trying to stop anyone from perusing the sacred library, yet here she was, her arms crossed over her chest, looking them both in the eyes as if they were insane.

"Surely you listened to that last bit that Professor Binns said in class last Monday?" Her eyes flashed between both of their guilty faces, and when they didn't answer, she sighed in frustration and said, "We have an exam tomorrow about the first unit of the book!"

"We do?!" Ron exclaimed. They had never had a test in History of Magic, so he had always just assumed that it was just one of those classes where they just listened and then took an exam at the end of the year.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed in amazement. "I would have thought you would have heard, especially since you both seemed to enjoy the lesson so much!" And then it dawned on her. Hermione's jaw dropped and she eyed her two friends with a strange sort of hurtful malice. "You were lying, weren't you? You didn't pay attention at all!" Harry and Ron both looked down at their feet, pretending to feel ashamed.

Truthfully, Ron didn't think that their lying to her should have hurt her feelings. After all, it wasn't as if they had done it to intentionally hurt her. "We only did it, because you were so happy and we didn't want to ruin that," Ron spoke up in a small sort of voice. He didn't really feel as bad as he sounded, but when he looked up, he saw Hermione's eyes soften at the tone of his voice. Ron fought the urge to smile; he didn't want to look like he was trying to trick her into feeling sorry for them, even if part of him wanted her to feel that way so that she would help them.

"Oh, alright," she said with a sigh. Clearly Ron's shame was enough to make her forgive them. Then, as though she couldn't stop herself, Hermione asked, "Just what were you guys doing in class, then?"

"Doodling," Harry replied, turning pink. Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend, but didn't say anything else. Then, she turned her eyes to Ron.

"Herbology homework," Ron said. Hermione nodded, her lips pursed.

"I shouldn't have looked it over. I told you to do it last Saturday, but would you listen?"

"I found a better time to work on it," Ron quickly countered with a shrug. Hermione glared daggers at him for it.

"Yes, and now you have an exam to prepare for and you don't even know what we were discussing!"

"Yeah, but you can help us, Hermione!"

"Alright, both of you!" Harry interrupted. He looked tired and frustrated, and Ron instantly felt genuinely ashamed. While it was fun to fight with Hermione sometimes, putting Harry in the middle of it was never fun. He never seemed able to handle them well, and would end up leaving for the sanctity of his dormitory in order to escape him. Ron didn't want to be a person that Harry fled from. He wanted to be his best friend. "Look, we're sorry, Hermione," Harry continued. "We'll try to pay better attention in the future." You probably shouldn't make promises you know neither of us can keep, mate, Ron thought. "Just, please, help us tonight."

Hermione frowned and said, "Yes, fine. I was going to help anyway, once Ron and I got done." It was said so casually that Ron let out a snort. Both of them had gotten so used to arguing with one another that it seemed like an everyday occurrence - a normal part of life at Hogwarts, actually. Hearing his laugh, Hermione looked up at him and offered him a small smile, as if to clarify that she was amused by what she said too.

They spent hours going over what they had covered in class so far. Ron hastily made notes over what Hermione read to them from her own notes. She was pacing in front of them, looking down at her neat handwriting and dictating to them months worth of unheard lessons. Once she finished reading to them, Ron looked over all he had gleaned from her reading to them.

- At the beginning of the time, there were no magical humans. After a brief time, they began to appear.

- They lived in harmony with Muggles for a very long time, until migration began (30,000 years ago or so).

- Africans remained understanding of magic, but they were revered in other cultures to the point of God status.

- Europeans especially looked up to witches and wizards because they rid the world of Neanderthals (25,000 years ago).

- The Chinese gave witches and wizards high distinction (10,000 BC).

- The Egyptians used them to tell the future (Divination - being able to divine the future through different symbolic means...don't know what Hermione means by this and I'm not going to ask) (8,000 BC)

- Australian aboriginees (did I spell that right? Who cares?) formed their entire tribal society around magic. Those who were born magical were leaders whereas those who were born Muggles or Squibs were just normal citizens (9,000 BC).

It was far shorter than her meticulous notes in comparison, but Ron rather thought they were very good. For a long time, he read over them. He couldn't believe that this had been all they had talked about in the class so far. Although it took Hermione forever to read everything off to them, Ron had felt that a lot of the details were unnecessary. The things that they truly needed to know was the basic timeline.

After his fifth time reading through his own personal notes, Ron began to get bored. At first, this boredom manifested itself in small sighs and shifty movements. Then his leg began to bounce nervously, and finally his head plopped back on the back of the couch, his neck aching from staring at the parchment for so long.

"Will you stop?!" Hermione snapped at him. Harry, who hadn't seemed to be aware of Ron's unrest, looked up from his own notes, startled.

"What?" Ron asked as innocently as possible.

"You know what! You won't stop moving around and sighing. You're making it very hard to concentrate!"

"I can't do this anymore!" Ron said. He hadn't meant it to sound like he was mad at Hermione or anything. He was just frustrated with the whole ordeal. He felt prepared, yet they were all sitting here doing nothing but continuing to prepare themselves. It was an utterly ridiculous way to spend a Sunday night!

Hermione sighed, rubbed her face with her hands, pausing to push on her forehead with the tips of her fingers. Then she said in a weary voice, "You have to, Ron."

Ron wanted to argue that no, he didn't have to, but her behavior bothered her more than her statement. "Do you have a headache?" he asked nervously. Harry glanced over at Hermione, suddenly alarmed. Though their other friend had never really said anything about Hermione's migraines, they both knew that he had to worry about them too. How could he not? Especially considering how many times Hermione had had to leave the library with her books, because she couldn't sit in the uncomfortable chairs anymore. They made her neck hurt, which in turn made the pain in her head worse.

"Yes," Hermione said in a strained voice.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked Ron. He looked between the two of them, seemingly amazed by Ron's ability to spot Hermione's pain. To an untrained witness, Ron supposed it would be difficult to see it. Hermione had been reading to them only an hour ago with such fervor, you would have thought nothing was wrong. But Ron had worried about this problem with Hermione for ages now, and he'd understood for a long time just what her symptoms were.

"She always rubs her face like that when she has a headache," Ron explained. Hermione nodded weakly. "Perhaps you should go to bed?"

"No, I need to pass this test."

"You will, though!" Ron argued gently, making sure to keep his voice down. That was another thing he'd learned about this headache problem of hers. Fighting wasn't out of the question, but it had to be done in soothing types of tones. It was a little silly and oxymoronic, but it was just the way this friendship worked. "You just recited your notes to us nearly perfectly without having to consult the parchment!"

"Nearly perfectly, Ron," Hermione said. "That's not good enough." Out of nowhere, Harry snatched her notes from her limp fingers. "Harry!" she said, reaching a hand up to touch her forehead again. "Give that back!"

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. Ron glared at him, hoping that Harry had a good excuse for acting like this. After all, it was one thing to argue with Hermione about studying, but another thing altogether to torment her by stealing her notes when she had a migraine. "I'm going to test you on this stuff, and if you get it all right you have to go to bed. If not, we'll keep going."

Ron and Hermione both stared at Harry, who was smiling placidly up at them, as though he knew this was the right solution. At first, Ron wanted to protest, but Hermione eventually nodded. "That sounds fair," she said. "Ron, you answer questions too."

"If I answer, you'll never go to bed," Ron said. "Harry said that if you answer them all right, you should go to bed. I'm not involved." He put his hands up as if to signify his lack of commitment to this endeavor, but Hermione opened her mouth to quietly argue back.

"How about, if I know it for sure, I'll nod at you, and you give it a go? If you can't get it, I'll give you the answer, but you have to write it down. Deal?"

Ron sighed. He hated this game. "Deal, I suppose."

It only took a half an hour for Harry to ask over all the notes. There wasn't a single question that Hermione couldn't answer out of the twenty-seven that Harry asked. Ron could only answer nine. When Hermione finally retreated up to her dormitory, Harry smiled triumphantly, and Ron looked down at his now completely covered parchment.

"Well, I feel good," Harry said. "Too bad I didn't take notes."

"You can look at mine," Ron quickly said. "I need to write a letter to my Mum."

"What about?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

"Christmas," was all Ron answered. Harry looked confused and concerned, so he decided to add, "I need her to get presents for you guys from me. You know, since we can't go into Hogsmeade or anything." Harry nodded in understanding, and Ron suddenly knew why he had looked so apprehensive. Harry had probably thought that Ron was going to ask to go with his family to Romania! "Oh, no Harry!" Ron suddenly said. "No, I'm still staying here, of course. I just figure she should get started on shopping for you guys, since she'll be going away soon."

Now Harry smiled in earnest. "I've never gotten proper Christmas presents before," he said matter-of-factly. Ron frowned, hating for the billionth time the Muggles Harry had been forced to put up with his entire life.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron said. This year, I'll make sure you have a wonderful Christmas. Ron added the last part in his mind, because he didn't want to spoil the surprise. He would tell his Mum exactly what she should get Harry, that way he truly felt like a part of the Weasley family.

* * *

Dearest Ronald,

I was so excited to get a letter from you! It's felt like ages since I've last seen your handwriting! I'm so glad you're having fun at Hogwarts and making all sorts of friends. Harry sounds like a dear boy and Hermione seems like such a wonderful girl.

Now, I've thought a lot about the type of thing you want to give Harry for Christmas. I know you wanted me to get him a chess set, but the truth is I can't afford that right now. Instead, I'm going to give him what I give all my children. Don't worry my dear, I know just the right thing and I've already started to work on it.

As for Hermione, I don't think I can send you that recipe for my Headache Solution. I know you want her to be able to help herself and everything, dear, but I believe that it's a bit advanced for first years to be brewing (not to mention it's something I invented and it's not certified by the Ministry of Magic, so it can get you in loads of trouble). Instead, I'll send a bottle to you. How does that sound? I'll have it whipped up in a couple of weeks' time. I need to save up the money for the ingredients. You should have it before the holidays start. I promise.

Love,

Mum

P.S. I'm so proud of you, Ron. Did you know that?

Sitting atop his duvet on his bed, Ron smiled. This was the first time in what felt like ages that his mother had complimented him. Maybe he was just as good as the rest of his family after all?

* * *

"So, what do you think? Hermione said she thought it would make us look suspicious, but I reckon if there are only a few students around, we won't be noticed as easily."

"I think it's a great idea," Harry replied to Ron. It was during the free period after Potions on the final Friday before break. Tomorrow, Hermione would be leaving along with most of the students in the school to spend time with her parents. This would mean that no one would be around to witness them watching the third-floor corridor. Indeed, Ron had been keeping an eye on it ever since he had started to suspect Snape, even if Hermione had disagreed. "I mean, nothing has happened since the Quidditch match, and it's really starting to make me worry."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's like it's too quiet around...here...ACHOO!!!" Ron quickly brought up a hand to shield the sneeze from splattering the dormitory. Harry grimaced and Ron groaned. "Not again..."

"Maybe you should see Madame Pomfrey? You sound really sick."

"I'm not sick!" Ron insisted.

"Ron...you skipped Potions today," Harry said as if this truly proved something.

"Not because I'm sick...it's because I hate Snape," Ron replied, only partially lying. Hating their professor had definitely been an incentive to staying in bed today. The other reason was because his head felt like an overinflated balloon, and he could barely breathe out of his left nostril. His ears and eyes were aching, and he was beginning to wish that he could open up Hermione's present from his mum in order to get some relief from the pressure (though he was unsure if it would even help him).

"Why don't you want to see the Nurse?" Harry asked.

"Because she'll give me Pepperup Potion, and I hate that stuff!" Ron insisted. Harry opened his mouth to insist that Ron go, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Both boys looked over at it, confused. No one ever knocked on the door!

"Come in?" Harry said, sounding completely unsure of himself.

"I can't!" Hermione's voice answered him. "I'm carrying something and it's kind of hard to turn the knob." Harry jumped up to answer the door, but Ron hastily began to pull his duvet up over his head. He couldn't let Hermione see him like this! He looked terrible.

He could hear her feet quietly pad across the room. "Ron?" Hermione said tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," Ron lied. He fought back the urge to cough so that Hermione didn't know that he was actually feeling miserable. The back of his throat itched rebelliously.

The thickness of the duvet covering him drowned out the sound of Hermione sighing, but he did manage to hear her say, "I got you some lunch." Ron pulled back the covers just enough so that he could glimpse out. Sitting on his dresser was a steaming cup of something and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Chicken noodle soup and pumpkin juice," Hermione said. "My Mum always makes it for me when I'm ill. Except for the pumpkin juice. Muggles don't drink it...we prefer orange juice when we're sick. I've read, though, that pumpkin juice can be just as beneficial."

Ron nodded and his aching stomach dictated for him to sit up. When he finally pulled the covers down to his hips and got into a seated position, Hermione frowned at him sympathetically. He hated it. He didn't want everyone worrying about him and taking care of him. He would be just fine. It was only a cold. Reaching out toward his soup, his scratchy throat and aching lungs got the best of him. His body was wracked with coughs and he weakly collapsed back into bed.

"Ugh," was all he could say.

"Ron won't see Madame Pomfrey," Harry informed Hermione. Ron glared at him.

"You really should, Ron. It'll be a two-second fix." Ron went to argue with her, but Harry cut him off.

"He doesn't like Pepperup Potion."

"Do you want a cough drop?" Hermione asked. Ron gave her a quizzical look. "They're like candy, except they make your throat feel better. Muggles use them." Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled one out. Ron eyed the wrapper skeptically. He wasn't sure if they could be trusted. He had always been under the impression that Muggles couldn't really think of remedies quite like wizards could. "It won't heal you," Hermione quickly added. "It'll just make your cough better and your throat stop aching so much."

"Alright," Ron said with a sniffle. It ended up tasting terrible. Ron pulled a face as the bitter, burning candy touched his tough. "Ugh!" he said again.

"Don't chew it," Hermione warned. "You have to let it melt."

"Why would people like this?" Ron asked, wishing he could spit it out. Still, Hermione seemed to think that they helped, so he wasn't going to argue with her.

"They don't," Harry answered. "It just helps calm down the cough and makes your throat feel better. You wouldn't have to have it if you'd just go to Madame Pomfrey." Ron glared at Harry once again. He knew that his friend only cared about him, but he honestly would rather have the cough drop than he would the Pepperup Potion. It burned way more and he always felt he looked ridiculous when he took it.

Sensing an impending blow up from Ron, Hermione quickly said, "So, what are you two going to do while I'm on break?"

"Keep searching the library," Harry said dully. Hermione nodded.

"I will ask my parents like you suggested, Ron, but I very much doubt they know anything," Hermione told him. "They're obviously not magical."

"Yeah, but maybe Nicolas Flamel is a Muggle? I mean, Dumbledore likes Muggles," Ron suggested with a shrug. Hermione smiled sympathetically at him, and the gesture felt oddly condescending. "It's worth a try, at least!"

"Yes, it is." There was that patronizing tone again. Ron heaved a heavy sigh.

"Well, while you're off on holiday with your parents, Harry and I are going to also keep an eye on the corridor."

"Firstly, I'm not going to be off on holiday," Hermione corrected. "I'm going to be at home with my parents back in Hertfordshire."

"Well, it feels like you'll be off on holiday," Ron mumbled.

"Right...secondly, I don't know if that's a good idea. There won't be many students here, which means Filch will have less to do. Dumbledore might ask him to watch the corridor even more over the holidays."

"Or," Harry began, "we'll be less noticeable, since there won't be any students wandering around that would tell on us. Except for Percy, of course." Harry nodded over at Ron as if to apologize for Ron having an annoying git for a brother. Ron simply shrugged and reached again for his soup. He had eventually given up on sucking on the lozenge and chewed it while Hermione was talking.

"True," Hermione agreed. "Just be careful, okay? I don't want to come back to find out you two have detention or something."

"Oh no!" Ron said sarcastically, his mouth full of noodles. "Whatever will you do if we end up in detention?!" Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry smirked.

* * *

Ron had intentionally set his alarm for six-thirty in the morning the next day. Though he still wasn't feeling well, and he really would like to stay in bed, he had more important things to do. Slipping from under the warmth and comfort of his duvet (which he had not left at all the previous day, except to use the bathroom), Ron tiptoed to the foot of his bed, opened his trunk, and extracted the neatly wrapped gift that his mother had sent him two days prior. She had told him in her letter that came with the package that she had put instructions within and there was no need for him to worry. Everything was taken care of.

Wrapping his robe securely around his body, Ron snuck out of his dormitory. He knew she'd be downstairs. She always woke up early to write in her diary. No doubt she would be worried for him when she saw him out of bed, but he didn't care. All that mattered to him was that she got her present now. He was positively dying to see her face when he explained it to her.

That was actually a huge reason for his not sending it to her on Christmas day like custom dictated. He really wanted to see Hermione's reaction. Chances were she wouldn't expect it. Even though he had certainly shown a concern for her headaches, she would definitely never suspect that he had a magical solution for her. Aspirin, he had witnessed, worked sometimes, but definitely not as well as it should have. It was time Hermione had a good solution to her migraines.

As predicted, she was sitting by the fire when he opened the door to the common room. She looked up as the hinges creaked, and Ron hastily stowed the gift behind his back.

"Oh, hello Ron," Hermione said cheerfully. Instead of going back to writing like she had the one other time they had met early in the morning like this, she snapped her book shut immediately. "What are you doing out of bed? Are you feeling better?"

"Loads," he lied again to her. He knew that once she left today he would probably go back up to the dorm. Harry would end up spending the whole day up there, and Ron would work to show him chess strategies. They had actually planned it the night before, but Ron had yet to reveal to Harry that he was pretending to be better for Hermione's sake.

"Good!" she said. "That means you'll be able to look in the library today!"

"Oh yeah, definitely," Ron said in a falsely excited voice. Hermione eyed him suspiciously, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"What's that behind your back?" Hermione chose to ask rather than chide him for his sarcasm.

"A present," Ron explained. He pulled it out from behind his back and made his way into the room, sitting down in the same seat he had taken the day after Halloween when they had spoken like this.

"Who is it for?"

"You." Hermione's eyes bulged and suddenly little pink patches appeared on her cheeks.

"You know you could have sent it, right?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yes, but that would have defeated the fun in watching you opening it," Ron answered easily. "I like watching people be happy over gifts I give them. It's my favorite part of Christmas, actually." It was totally true. Though he had always acted around his family as though getting presents was his favorite part, Ron had surreptitiously enjoyed watching everyone else's faces when he gave them gifts. Sure, everything he always gave tended to be homemade or food, but his family appreciated it just the same (probably because the majority of Weasley presents were homemade anyway). Of course, he had never shared this with them, because he didn't want them to know just how sentimental he could be. He wouldn't tell Harry either. This was just something Hermione would know about him. It was alright, because she was a girl and was sentimental herself. She would totally understand.

"That's really sweet," Hermione responded with a small smile. "Do you want me to open it now?"

"Obviously," Ron said, rolling his eyes as he passed it to her. Hermione reciprocated the eye-roll, but didn't argue with him. Instead, she peeled back the paper, opened up the box the bottle was in, and looked down at it.

"It's a potion," she said in a bemused voice, pulling the rather large bottle of royal blue liquid from the box. Ron didn't say anything, as Hermione looked back into the container and noticed the slip of parchment within. Putting her potion on the table in front of her, she reached her hand into the box and read the paper to herself. Her jaw dropped in astonishment. Quickly she looked up at Ron and said in a very stunned voice, "A Headache Solution?"

"Yeah," Ron said slightly awkwardly. "My Mum invented it for herself. When I found out you got headaches, I thought I could write to Mum asking for instructions on how to make it. She said it's too complicated for first years, but she'd send a bottle for you."

"Wow, Ron," Hermione said, looking back down at the instructions. Her voice sounded oddly strained, as though she were about to cry. "I...I don't know what to say." And then she began to sob in earnest. Ron stared at her, alarmed. What had he done?! Surely he disappointed her somehow! But how?!

"Are...are you alright?" he asked, stricken. He found that he didn't quite know what to do with himself and she cried in front of him. Should he sit next to her and try to comfort her? Should he put a hand on her shoulder like his mum did when he was upset? Or should he just sit here? "Do...do you not like it? I'm sorry; I thought it was nice and that it would help you. If you don't like it, I can send it back."

"No, Ron!" Hermione said, laughing through her tears. "It's definitely not that! It's just...this is so wonderful! I've never gotten such a thoughtful present before. You don't know what this means to me!" Ron's ears went red at her words. Yes, he had known that his present had been considerate, but he had never imagined that it had been so kind as to make her cry.

"Well, I just hated seeing you suffering," Ron mumbled, trying to extinguish the awkward heat rising up on his face.

"It's been horrible," she said with a sniffle. "I...I have a hard time concentrating sometimes and I get so irritable. Aspirin helps but this...this is perfect, Ron. Your mum wrote, 'It always works, so don't fear having to put up with headaches for long.' Oh Ron, this is just the sort of solution I've been looking for all year!"

Then, without any warning whatsoever, Hermione set the paper and the box onto the table before her, and walked over to him. "Stand up," she ordered. Ron didn't argue, but did as she said. She launched herself on him, hugging him tightly around the middle. He could feel the wetness of the tears of joy that had slid down her cheek on his neck. And although the hug quite frightened him at first (especially the way she commanded him to do it), he quickly found that he was wrapping his arms around her as well.

"Thank you so much, Ron," she whispered to him while stepping out of the hug. Ron nodded silently, unable to say anything in return. Hermione's golden eyes were still filled with tears, but for the first time, Ron rather liked that. He had made her cry not because he was being a prat, but because he had made her happy. This was definitely something he could get used to. "It's honestly the best present I've ever received."

And although he didn't say it, Ron felt that the compliment, hug, and her smile were the best presents he had ever received.