Carve Me A Grave With My Name On It

The moving staircase spiraled up the hidden tower to what was situated above― Dumbledore´s office. Ron hadn´t any choice; he followed the Headmaster. Stepping onto the tread ―Or is it a rung? he questioned himself-- that was in motion, they ascended. Ron still hung his head, thoroughly ashamed that he would have to confront Dumbledore with his petty problems. He stared at the hems of Dumbledore´s long robes. Perhaps he could say as little as possible, and act as though there´s not much of a problem. Dumbledore would suspect something else and Ron could go along with it. This would leave Ron to do away with himself in peace. Lie, that´s what I can do... Simple white lies, he grinned inwardly.

After a myriad of steps later, the duo met a platform where the office was located. Ron watched as Dumbledore took out a ring of keys from a pocket and fumbled trying to find the proper one. He let his eyes linger on the keys. There were so many on the ring. Possibly there´s one for each chamber and room in the castle, he thought. A frown met his face as he realized that not even a large room would have enough space to fit all the keys if each room one. The keys were glistening, in all different shapes and sizes. Some seemed older than others, and some looked ancient. The sight of then brought back memories of happier days. Or at least days when he was of use.

Harry, Hermione and he were on the trail of Snape, who they thought was after the Sorcerer´s Stone. This stone could be used to create the Elixir of Life, and could change anything to gold. And the trio had thought Snape was planning to help the Dark Lord rise to power with use of it. Pity we were such fools, Ron sighed. He remembered the Chamber of Keys. They had to find the right key in order to get a step closer to the Stone and Snape. It was he, Ron, who suggested the key type. Yes, he had helped with that. And onward they went. But what he remembered best was McGonagall´s transfigured chess set. That was his moment to shine, as he led them to victory. He remembered how he had sacrificed himself, and how Hermione had begged him not to. I wasn´t afraid of the pain. I just wanted to help in stopping Snape and You-Know-Who.

And in the end, they had succeeded. Well, Harry had succeeded, almost killing himself in the process. It had been Quirrell who wanted the Stone and not Snape, after all. But he remembered how Harry told them about the fight and how Quirrell had been burning from the touch of his skin. It had amazed Ron at the moment. The guy was bloody courageous he had to admit. But somehow, over the years, the courage and confidence had mutated into arrogance. As much as Ron hated to see him like that, Harry was his friend. Or at least he thought. Once Hermione reentered his mind, a surge of hatred flooded his mind, temporarily blinding him. He could feel hot tears forming in his eyes and he hadn´t bothered to wipe them.

It was only until a tap on the shoulder had pulled Ron back to reality that he noticed the door was open and Dumbledore was waiting for him to enter the room. Hastily, he wiped the moisture from his eyes, and entered the circular room filled with the same interesting gadgets as always. Looking up and around the room, he noticed that the pictures of the previous Headmasters of Hogwarts stared at him, appearing as though they´d laugh at the boy any second for his sudden outburst of emotion. Bugger off, he tried to tell the pictures telepathically. His eyes soon rested upon Dumbledore, who clearly was ready to begin their discussion, as he motioned for Ron to have a seat. With no hesitation or looking back at the disdainful portraits, he ventured over and sat down.

After a moment of silence for Dumbledore to look over Ron, who had not wanted to be gazed at and was looking out the tower window, the old man finally decided to speak with a grimace.

"Mr. Weasley, I fear deeply that there is something troubling you."

Way to state the obvious, you´re loosing your touch, old man, was what Ron wanted to say. Instead he looked at his Headmaster for a second then looked down at his hands resting in his lap.

"I don´t understand why you´d think that, sir."

Still under Dumbledore´s penetrating stare, he noticed a change of expression, a deeper frown.

"Ron, I´ve noticed your change in habits. I´ve read the signs on your face. I´ve seen the expression in your eyes, or lack of. I do believe there is a difference between the Ronald Weasley I had known as a young boy and the one that I now know as the young man seated in front of me. And I know that it is something that doesn´t involve the Dark Lord. Please, if there was not anything troubling you, then I wouldn´t be so concerned, but seeing as there must be, I am here to help you."

He doesn´t know what he´s talking about. Ron looked up directly at the old man´s face.

"Really, professor, I am fine. Whatever changes you´ve seen in me were probably the result of puberty." Whoa, where did that come from?

For a moment, Dumbledore´s expression lightened as he seemed to chuckle. Yes, man, I still have a sense of humor, if that´s what your wondering. The next second, the headmaster´s concerned appearance had returned.

"This is really not a matter to joke with, Mr. Weasley. I may not know exactly what the issues you grapple with are, but I do know what you are up to."

Ron almost let his face settle with an air of dread. Again and again he convinced himself mentally that he did not know anything.

"Most certainly you don´t, sir, with all due respect. But there are no issues, and no problems. If it is that my appearance and behavior is quite irregular, well, it´s due to sleep, or lack there of."

"Then may I ask simply, why you have been so late to class?"

"I overslept," was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

"Quite curious. I do believe I saw you at breakfast. You haven´t been using Hermione´s Time Turner, have you?"

"But she doesn´t... Oh. Um. I just forgot..." Ron started to panic now, and this time it was quite clearly written on his face. Hermione hasn´t had her Time Turner since the third year, and Dumbledore could tell he was lying to him. "Professor, it´s great that you worry about me and care, I mean it´s quite a great facet to your personality to care about your students as you are the Headmaster... But I promise I´m fine. There´s nothing wrong with me, I´m not up to anything. I just need some sleep. Really that´s all the problem is, if there ever was one," Ron ended his rambling as he got up to leave.

Dumbledore must have sensed Ron´s eagerness to go, as the man also rose from his throne-like chair. There was a frown on his face as he went over to the door and stood by it. With his wide sleeves and long arms draping the only exit the old man guarded it. Ron just stopped where he was and had his face transfixed on him. What was the man doing? Holding Ron hostage? Dumbledore knew Ron was confused; after all, he seemed to know everything else about Ron. Well, there is always that window over there...

"Mr. Weasley, I cannot let you leave this room until we have this sorted out," he almost shouted as he held out a piece of parchment with writing on it. As Ron focused on it, he noticed that it was a letter. Then he noticed the untidy scrawl written on it.

"My letter!" Ron yelled. If he read it! Anger was rising in the hot-tempered redhead. "Please tell me you haven´t read it?" he yelled, forgetting all about respect. What nerve of the man to read someone´s private writings!

"Mr. Weasley, do remember that I am faculty at this school. But yes, I have read it. I do understand that it was private, but what is written on this sheet holds enough information to concern me of your health and safety, as well as others who would most certainly be hit hardest by such acts that are hinted on this parchment!"

Ron would´ve fell to the floor if his chair weren´t directly under him. His eyes were wide, mouth open in astonishment of what the headmaster had just said. How dare he try to nose into my personal life and decisions! What did he know about people who would be hit by his actions? Thinking quick, he tried to come up with some kind of reasoning behind a suicide note that didn´t involve suicide. Suddenly, it was as though lights were flickering on in his mind, and the darkness was flourishing for the moment.

"Professor Dumbledore, see... I´m kind of ashamed to say this, but I´ve always been a little jealous of Harry," he began. Heh, understatement of the year, that had been. He hung his head to show the humiliation. "He´s always been so heroic, and risked his life just to save our saves."--Which was very much true, Ron reminded himself--"And well, I was just thinking that if I ever had to risk my life, I´d want my family to know that´d be alright. So I just thought, since You-Know-Who is still rising and everything, and Harry needed to save the world, like last year, I´d want to be there to help him out and all. I figured it´d be best if I just had it written before hand to send out, if I ever needed to in case of a life-threatening situation. It´s not as bad as it seems!" he almost pleaded the end. He lifted his head back up to see if Dumbledore was buying it. The man was finally retreating to his desk. The man had probably thought that Ron would not leave anymore.

As he sat down across from Ron, the Headmaster stared at him, bright blue eyes peering out through his half-moon spectacles. No, it was a glare. It was as though he disapproved of Ron´s explanation and possibly thought he was lying to him again. Well, Ron was lying, though he couldn´t help but admit to his conscience that he was indeed a bit jealous of Harry. He had fame, the Invisibility Cloak, endless piles of money, a place on the Quidditch team since the first year, the Firebolt, the Triwizard Tournament, a definite future in fighting Dark Arts, and now, Hermione. What about Ginny? Forgot about her did you? his mind growled. Yes, he felt silly for envying his best friend, and letting a hatred burn in his heart as well, but all is fair in love and war is it not?

Ron heard Dumbledore sigh, as he rubbed his temple. "Is this true?"

For a moment, he battled the side of him demanding him to tell the old guy the truth. But that would give away his plans to end all his misery. No, he would do whatever it took to follow through, even if it meant getting tangled in a web of lies. It was Ron´s turn to sigh.

"Yes, sir."

"Have you told Harry how you´ve felt?"

That almost killed him. Of course he hadn´t. They were starting to get to the topic of Harry, just as he had suspected.

"No. I don´t want him to think that because I´m willing to help him through this period of Darkness he has to also look after me in the process."

"Excuse me, I mean, have you told the boy that you feel it´s necessary for you to almost predict your death in order to help him?"

"I´m not predicting my death, sir, I´m merely informing my family that I put my life at risk and that if it happens that I die, they´d understand. That´s all, Professor."

Ron watched as Dumbledore again arose from his throne-like chair. With his robes dragging along the ground, he seemed to be walking towards a cabinet in the corner of the room. Growing in suspicion, Ron watched as the older man brought out a large stone basin. With numerous runes carved into the sides, the bowl looked quite interesting. Something Hermione might like to see, no doubt. Dumbledore carried the large object back to the desk. After placing it ever so gently onto the desk, careful not to spill the contents, he sat down again.

At this time, Ron took the time to look into the basin. The contents were like liquid silver, and seemed to match with his Headmaster´s long white hair and beard. It was then that Ron realized what it was. It was the Pensieve that Harry had described to him during their fourth year. As he looked into the bowl, he noticed that his face was not reflected in the substance, instead it showed some interesting images of people who looked familiar to him, but he couldn´t recognize.

"Yes, my Pensieve," was all he said. He took his wand out, and placed the tip just at the edge of his hair. Lifting, Ron saw what looked like hair still on the tip. No, no, Ron, remember what Harry had said? It´s his thought. Suddenly, he was confused. What would Dumbledore need to remember this moment for? Ron looked expectantly at the man in front of him.

"Why may I―" he started, but was interrupted.

"I have a lot on my mind. I just had a meeting with Professor Lupin, and now I have added more. As I fear I may forget to touch upon this subject on future dates, I feel the need to save this memory," he stated matter-of-factly, as he dropped the thought strand into the Pensieve.

Ron peered into it, trying to see it change as Harry had described it doing to in detail before. The pool of thoughts began to swirl around, giving off a little reflected light, giving the impression of illumination. Once it finally settled, he looked in to see that he was gazing at the top of his head and Dumbledore´s. And eagle-eye view, the Muggles would call it, of the room from the ceiling. With this sight, he nodded at his memory. Harry was right. He looked back into the basin one last time, but saw nothing. Cool, he thought. Dumbledore then picked it up, and placed it back into his cabinet, locking it magically with a charm.

"Well, Mr. Weasley. Seeing as this was only our first discussion, and in which we haven´t been able to speak of much, let it be known that I will call upon you on later dates. I will be keeping an eye on you, as well as Harry," he said as he receded to his chair. "Also, do remember to hold that tongue of yours. Especially in the presence of Snape. It would do no good to see Gryffindor lose the House Cup. But I don´t play favorites in this school..."

Very funny. What about golden boy Potter? Wow, did I almost think like Malfoy. I´m stooping to new lows, I am. Next thing you´ll know, I´ll be the Dark Lord´s leading servant. The thoughts ricocheted off the corners of his mind. Maybe I should get one of those Pensieve things.

"Yes, sir."

Ron lifted himself out of the chair he was seated in. With a glance of the old grandfather clock in the corner, he was aware that Potions was over and it was time for Herbology in the green houses.

"Um, professor?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Should I tell Professor Sprout that I´ve been excused by you?"

"Oh, yes, yes, that´d be fine."

"Alright. Bye now.

"Do try to have a good day, Ron."

"Yes, sir."

And with a last look at the room he had been alone in for the first time, and a wave to Fawkes, he exited the chamber. Making his way down the moving staircase, he grimaced. Maybe it´s not such a good idea to kill myself... he contemplated, no, no, I made it this far, and I´m not afraid of death, and remember that this is going to help everyone. Dumbledore doesn´t know everything, and if he thinks he´s going to see me later, he´s kidding himself.

Reaching the bottom, his plan still fresh in his mind, Ron continued his arduous trek to the main corridors of the castle. Out of breath, and hungry, he reached the Entrance Hall, and stopped. Trying to get some air, he paused and, oddly, started gasping as though he had just ran five miles at top speed with no break. His head began to throb like hammers banging with force on a stubborn nail. His gasping was getting worse, and soon he couldn´t breathe all together. Being a panicking git, he tried walking further to find someone who could help him. And with one step, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.