All Those Weird Ron Quotes

Following the Butterflies

"Follow the spiders. Why couldn't it be follow the butterflies?"

~Ron Weasley, Chamber of Secrets Movie

~

Harry, Fang, and I walk out of Hagrid's hut that night, Harry looking excited since he is on the trail of a new clue. Or that might be Fang, sniffing where he can mark his spot and lifting his leg against a tree. Harry looks grim and I can tell he's in his "let's get this over with," kind of attitude; or it might be his "let's save Hermione who I'm going to marry one day," kind of attitude. Or maybe it's "let's find out what's happening so I can save everyone and be the hero of the school once more," attitude. I could never really tell the difference.

Meanwhile, I'm glum - no, more than glum - grim, depressed, nervous, scared, um . . . what's a word for all of those? Oh, yeah, I'm petrified! I am going to die in that forest, I know it! Hagrid has told us to follow the spiders - Hagrid! If it was Dumbledore . . . OK, maybe not Dumbledore, he's a bit crazy, but Hermione or someone who told us to follow the spiders, I'd understand why. But Hagrid, the man who kept a three-headed dog in the school and named it Fluffy, who illegally got a Norwegian Ridgeback, named it Norbert, and dumped the responsibility of getting rid of it on us! Or that might be my grudge from getting an infected hand talking, not my mind.

Hagrid's a really good friend, but still . . . follow the spiders. Those creepy, crawly spiders with their eight legs and big eyes and sticky webs. Ugh, I shudder at the thought!

"Maybe they're not going into the forest," I venture.

"No, they are. Look," Harry says, pointing his lit wand at the trail of spiders crawling with those creepy eight legs of theirs (why did God create creatures with eight legs, why?) into the dark, even creepier, Forbidden Forest. Damn you, Harry! Why did you have to be so right?!

"Follow the spiders. Why couldn't it be follow the butterflies," I whine as we walk toward the forest.

"Just come on. We have to figure this out," Harry urges.

I immediately get a mental picture of Hermione lying motionless in the hospital wing and I nod, deciding to press onward. However, just then I see a bright-colored flash pass me and I look toward it, but it's gone the next moment. Gulping, I steel myself to walk into the darkness of the forest, but then there's that bright color again. Looking at the spot where I saw the cascade of bright colors . . . I see nothing. I sigh, my mind must be playing tricks on me again.

"What is it?" Harry asks.

"I thought I just saw . . . never mind," I say. I sigh again, that sounds like something Hermione would say. As I take the first step into the darkness of the forest, I see that bright-colored glint yet again. There must be something there! However, as I look it's gone again, but I'm not giving up that easily.

I gaze raptly at the spot where the color disappeared, ignoring Harry's impatient words of, "Ron, come on!" and "Come on, mate!". I continue to gaze at the spot, and, from the dark a bright-colored wing seems to materialize, belonging to a monarch butterfly.

My mouth falls open and Harry gasps as well as the two of us see a parade of butterflies fly past us, their wings fluttering in the nearly nonexistent breeze. I know that butterflies are more of a girl thing, but never have I been so happy to see the pastel colors of their veil-like wings. They have saved me from heading into that horrid Forest, for now I see that they're skirting the Forest and heading for a part of the Hogwarts grounds that I have never visited before. I make to follow them, but Harry stops me with stern words. "Ron, wait. We can't just go off like this, we have to figure this out." Goddamn you, Harry!

"You can go figure it out, Harry," I say. "I can't go in there, I have a serious fear of spiders, you know that. Come on, they're right here, I'll follow them, who knows, maybe I'll figure out something with these butterflies and you'll figure out something with those. . . ." Here, I shudder. ". . . .spiders," I finish.

Harry stares at me for a moment then says, "Fine. I'll go with Fang and you follow the butterflies." I nod, only too glad to, but as Harry leaves, I can distinctly hear him murmuring words under his breath such as, "Wuss," and "Coward." I'll show him, I decide, I might actually figure something out by following these butterflies and then who will be the better of the two of us? Then, Hermione might actually notice me . . . why the hell am I thinking like this? All I want to do is get Hagrid out of Azkaban and help get back at that thing that hurt my dear, beautiful H- . . . um . . . hippopotamus . . . not Hermione, of course not. She's just a friend, a good friend. . . .

My thoughts trail off as I follow the butterflies, guided by the light cast by their nearly luminous wings, seeming to create an ethereal glow in the darkness. Under these bright lights of sorts, I feel as if I can fly as high as a bird or a broomstick or those weird flying machines that Muggles come up with - pairlanes, I think they're called. Or, I think, forget the pairlanes (or is it airplanes?), and I'll just fly as high as a butterfly, I decide. In this trance-like state, I follow the butterflies through a clump of bushes and what I see astounds me.

In this enchanted glade that I seem to have landed myself in, there are butterflies of every shape and size, some as large as Fang and they're all fluttering around, stopping to seem to talk to another of the creatures, then flying down to take nectar from one of the numerous, brightly-colored flowers in the glade. I wouldn't be surprised if fairies started flying around, sprinkling fairy dust on all of the occupants (including me).

And that's why I decide to leave, for if someone came across me now and saw I, Ron Weasley, standing in the middle of this glade with butterflies (which I've said already are a girly thing) and flowers, then I'd be the laughingstock of the school (I already kind of am, besides Neville, I think). Plus, Fred and George would never let me here the end of it, calling me gay and all that. I decide to go and find Harry, and, although that would be facing my worst fear - spiders - at least it would be more 'manly,' and I could be a hero instead of being a wuss and a coward (as Harry called me) by waiting for my best friend to finish with the brave work while standing by myself with butterflies. I sigh and turn to leave, there's no sense in staying any longer, who knows who might come along and see me (even if it is this late at night, centaurs and werewolves - after they've transformed back to humans - can still talk).

However, as I leave, something catches my eye in the darkest corner of the glade (which is still pretty light, anyway), which makes me freeze in my tracks and nearly piss myself. There, in the darkest corner of the glade is a huge spider. And when I say huge, I don't mean the spider that seems huge when you're lying in your dormitory and it crawls up your bedpost and you scream and turn on the light to the dismay of the four guys you're sharing the room with. Then, without saying anything, you smash the spider to pieces with your coveted copy of Flying With the Cannons and realize that the 'huge spider' turned out to be only the size of your fingernail. Not only that, but your dormitory mates tease you about it until Christmas break . . . why is it that that only seems to apply to me?

But never mind, this is a HUGE spider, humongous huge, bigger than Hagrid's hut huge, its legs thicker than a tree trunk huge (and for a spider it does have nice legs. . . .). Why the bloody hell am I thinking like that? The spider is HUGE!!! I am stuck where I'm standing as if someone's put a Full Body-Bind on me and am only able to give a frightened squeak as I feel the sweat trickling down me in gallons. I am going to dry up from sweating so much, I decide, either that or slip in my own sweat as I try to run away, that is, if I could run, have I mentioned seeming to be in a Full Body-Bind yet?

However, the spider doesn't seem to realize my fear. "Who are you, human?" it asks. Without asking myself how the bloody hell a spider can talk, I realize that its voice is strangely feminine. It seems that 'it,' is a 'she.'

I decide that by speaking, I may gain myself some time in my quest against death, either by being eaten by the spider or drying up by sweating so much. "R-Ron W-Weasley," I manage to stutter, my voice barely a sound at all.

The spider nods its (her) head. "Ah, and you go to Hogwarts, R-Ron W-Weasley?"

I nod, my mouth so dry that I can't speak.

"I see," it (she) says. "Hello, R-Ron. I am Mosag. It is a great pleasure to meet a student from Hogwarts. My husband was bred by one of your kind and I have always had the highest respect for students for what one of your kind did for dear Aragog." I guess that she means Hagrid, I don't know who else would take up care for a giant spider.

"A-Aragog?" I ask. "You mean there are more of you?" I feel like fainting then and there, but perhaps it's the Body-Bind that keeps me on my feet, that or the thought of being torn apart once I show weakness to this giant creature.

"Oh, yes. A whole colony of us," Mosag answers. "My husband lives in the Forest, though I visit here sometimes for tasty snacks."

At these last two words, I nearly faint. "T-tasty. . . ." I manage to start before falling against a nearby tree trunk.

"I meant the butterflies," she says with a laugh, at least that's what it sounds like, there is something high-pitched and giggly between the clacking of her pincers.

"Oh," I breathe and I realize that the supposed Body-Bind seems to have worn off.

"Here, let me show you," she says, as she sees a particularly large (and I guess juicy-looking to her), butterfly flies into a silky web set in the darkest corner.

"No," I say quickly. I am naturally very squeamish and don't think I could bear to see an innocent creature such as a butterfly torn up by a spider's sharp pincers, even if this spider does happen to have some kindnesses toward humans.

Mosag looks somewhat disappointed as if she is missing out on a real treat by having me here. However, she sighs and waves a giant (and well-shaped, ah, stop it!) foreleg nevertheless. "Go on, then," she says. "You will come and visit again, won't you?"

I don't have anything to say to this, so I simply say, "Um . . . I'll try," and walk briskly (OK, I run), out of that glade. At least it wasn't as bad as it could have been, I thought, like if I'd followed Harry into the Forbidden Forest and probably met that Aragog that Mosag was talking about.

I look up and notice that more butterflies are still filing into the glade, a few of them to meet their unknowing doom by Mosag. However, there is no reason not to enjoy them now (and I try not to picture them being ripped apart piece by piece by the giant spider) and I watch the parade of beautiful colors file past me. As I walk, I'm not watching my step and I trip over a tree root that I didn't see in the dark. . . .

I awake with a start in the Gryffindor common room that night and see Harry sitting across from me. Have I gotten back already, then? Great! I get up and am about to go up to the dormitory when Harry also awakens, yawning spectacularly and getting up, looking at me in a strange way as if waiting for something. Well, Harry's always been strange that way, maybe something with Aragog and all those other spiders traumatized him . . . that's what he gets for not following the butterflies with me. I shrug and head toward the boys' dormitory when he says, "Ron, come on! We have to get down to the Forest." I see that he is already digging his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag.

"What do you mean?" I ask, unpleasantly surprised. "I thought we just got back."

"What are you, mad?" he asks, looking at me quizzically. "We just woke up because we dozed off while waiting for the common room to empty, remember?"

I groan. "Not tonight, Harry."

"Yes, tonight. We need to figure this out. Come on, Ron," he says, throwing the cloak over his back and holding some of it open for me to climb into. I sigh and go over to him, hoping with all my heart that there will be more butterflies.